“I didn’t tell them nothing,” Nils mumbled as Ilesa lowered him to the top of the sarcophagus and shrank back to her regular size. “Shadrak…” The lad pushed himself up on one elbow. “I tell you, I didn’t say nothing.”
Shadrak nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Ilesa had set a break-neck pace from the Brenitch and Cawdor Bank to the Templeton Graveyard, and she’d not slowed till they entered the crypt. All well and good for her in her giantess form, but Shadrak’s legs were only a third of the size, which meant he’d had to run three times as fast. Cow.
Nils looked a mess: puffy circles of purpling yellow around both eyes, welts on his wrists and neck, and a bluish tinge to his lips.
“You did well, Nils,” Ilesa said, ruffling his hair.
He wrinkled his nose at that, but when she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, he grinned from ear to ear.
Ilesa rolled her eyes and moved away to examine the opening to the tunnel Bekra Cy had taken.
Shadrak became aware of Nils’s eyes on him. The lad clearly needed more than a nod in response to his heroics. Judging by his condition, they’d made a pretty decent start to the torture, but Shadrak knew from past experience, both giving and receiving, that there were levels to these things. Nils had been lucky—lucky to have people stupid enough to give a damn about what happened to him.
“Your dad would have been proud,” Shadrak said.
“Shog off!” Nils jumped down from the top of the sarcophagus.
“Sorry.” Impressing a scut like Buck Fargin was the worst kind of insult. “Ilesa’s proud of you, then.”
“You think?” Nils puffed out his pigeon chest. “And you?”
“Uhm…”
“I’m not proud,” Ilesa said, coming back round the sarcophagus. “Any idiot can keep his mouth shut.”
Nils looked liked she’d slapped him. “Why? Why’d you come for me?”
“Past failures,” she said simply. “Someone I should have protected a long time ago.”
Nils shook his head. This time when he caught Shadrak’s eye, he smiled. “Thanks, Shadrak. Thank you both.”
Shadrak felt a tic start up beneath his eye. “So, who was it, then? Some scut of a senator?”
“Senator? Don’t think so. He asked about you, Shadrak, and the Cohort took notes. All nonsense. Stuff I made up. But he was more interested in the ring.”
“Who’s he?” Ilesa asked. “And how’d he know about the ring?”
“Same way everyone else apparently does,” Shadrak said, giving her a pointed look.
“Didn’t give no name,” Nils said, “and when I asked for it, he gave me this.” He pointed to one of his blackening eyes. “Not with a fist, neither. Magic it was, and it was magic that chafed my wrists and neck.”
“Describe him,” Shadrak said.
Nils shrugged. “Dressed like a banker: grey tunic and britches, shiny shoes. He had them half-moon spectacles, some kind of poncey neck-tie. Slicked back hair—oily. Face looked like it ain’t never seen the sun, and he had this thin smile and eyes the color of piss.”
“Brenitch,” Ilesa said. “One half of Brenitch and Cawdor. I only know what he looks like due to some dodgy dealings one of the Dybbuks had with the bank. Before you ask, no idea what it was about. Poor bastard died within hours of making it back to the theater. Loss of blood, they said, only… no wounds.”
Nils looked like he was about to be sick. “He did this thing to me…” He curled his fingers into a claw and held his hand up. “Made me feel queasy. You think he got my blood?”
“Rumor on the streets is that Cawdor’s worse,” Ilesa said.
“Oh?” Nils said.
“Just a rumor. Don’t worry, you’re not likely to run into him in the city. Silent partner, they say. Prefers a life of anonymity in the provinces, maybe even further afield.”
The important thing for Shadrak was that now there was another party after the ring, one with the resources and reach of the Brenitch and Cawdor Bank, who clearly had some kind of shady connection with the Senate. The sooner this was over and done with, the better.
“Come on,” Ilesa said. “Enough talk. Jeb’s probably outside the city already, waiting for us with horses.”
Nils frowned, but Shadrak chose to ignore the lad’s unspoken question and ask one of his own.
“We got Nils back,” he said to Ilesa, “so what makes you think we’re still working together?”
“You’re a killer, Shadrak,” Ilesa said. “Maybe the best there is. Me, Jeb, and Nils, we couldn’t take Bekra down—”
“I see. So you need me to kill the bitch, then you think you can run off with my ring, is that it? You know what she is? You want to know who’s really after the ring?”
“Besides Master Arecagen?” Nils said. “And the Brenitch and Cawdor Bank. And some nasty Stygian you know from Pellor.”
Shadrak opened his pouch, slid his hand into the never-full bag, and pulled out Magwitch’s book. He opened it to the page with the tattoo designs and passed it to Nils.
“You’re some kind of scholar, ain’t you? Scholarize this. Let me know what you learn.”
Nils grunted as he studied the drawings on the page. “Bekra Cy’s made from sorcery?”
Ilesa pressed in close to him, tried to read over his shoulder. “My Ancient Urddynoorian’s crap. What’s it say?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Shadrak said. “What I wanted you scuts to see is this.” He jabbed a finger at the cuneiform writing in the margins.
“Verusian,” Nils said, all color leaving his face.
Ilesa stepped back from the book, as if she feared she might catch something.
“Blightey,” Shadrak said. “The Lich Lord’s after the ring, and he sent Bekra to get it for him. Still want in on this?”
Ilesa licked her lips. “Shog the ring. If that creep’s after it, you’re welcome to it. But I’m still going with you. Bekra double-crossed me.”
“And you?” Shadrak asked Nils.
The lad looked miserable. “No choice. If I don’t get the ring, Arecagen will kill me.”
Well, at least they had that in common.
“As will I, if you try taking it from me again,” Shadrak said. “But don’t worry: work with me and don’t get in my way, and I’ll take care of Arecagen for you. That’s a promise.”
Nils didn’t look convinced.
“I mean it,” Shadrak said. And he did. Not for Nils’s benefit, but he’d already decided no scutting wizard was going to get away with putting bugs in his guts and threatening to have them eat their way out. Just the thought of it sent his hands to his stomach.
Nils saw and turned his nose up. “Silent but deadly, eh? Shogging disgusting!”