out the rear of the tavern, and then circled around to the front. The two thieves remained on guard, and they sneered at his approach.
“Hey, you got to have money first,” said the one on the right, blocking his way with his arm. Haern glared, then pointed through the door, slurring his words and making sure his hand bobbed up and down in the air.
“That…that guy there’s my brother. He’ll cover for me, really. Ask him, he’s a great guy, married a whore who makes more money on her back than I could…I…that could make in a month.”
Haern made sure he pointed between the tables, and the movement of his arm made it no clearer who he was referring to as his brother. The guard on the left looked inside, as if he could somehow pinpoint him anyway. The one on the right grabbed his arm.
“I said get out,” he said, but Haern moved too fast. He spun out of his grip, slashed open his throat, and then turned to the other. Before he could let out a cry, Haern stabbed his chest with a non-poisoned dagger, ramming his arm over his mouth to hold in the scream. It came out muffled, but not loud enough to attract any attention within. It seemed like the men and women were eager to celebrate their first moment of peace in two days. No doubt they thought they’d beaten the mercenaries, or at least, wanted to think so.
Knowing time was far from an ally, he lumbered into the tavern, resuming his drunken gait. With his head low, he scanned the bar, looking for Kadish Vel. He found him in the far corner, sitting with his back to a wall. At the giant round table, six men sat with him, along with a pretty lady at his side. She seemed bored with the proceedings, and Haern wondered if she stayed with him for coin or for safety. The rest were joking or boasting, their voices loud and slurred. All but Kadish. He seemed mildly amused at best. Haern drifted toward him. He had one chance at this, just one.
“Hey, hey, hey!” shouted one of the men as Haern slid between them, directly opposite Kadish. He put his hands on the table, and he leaned forward as if keeping balance was a struggle.
“Kadisshh?” Haern asked, looking lazily at the guildmaster.
“I’m sorry friend, the bar might be mine, but the drinks still don’t come free,” said Kadish.
Haern never responded. His hands, leaning there on the table, were also within inches of the sabers at his hips. As his cloaks folded away, Kadish saw them, and that was when Haern moved. He drew them both, and in one smooth motion, sliced through the necks of the men beside him. As they collapsed, their blood splattering across the table, Kadish flung himself out of his chair, pressing his back into a corner. The pretty girl looked dazed, as if she didn’t believe what she saw. Two of the men moved closer to defend Kadish, the others drawing daggers and lunging. Haern batted one aside, killed another with a riposte, and then spun, a whirling machine of death. Cries of alarm spread across the tavern as the rest realized what was going on.
Falling to one knee, Haern let go of a saber and yanked the poisoned dagger from his boot. From underneath the table he saw the lower half of Kadish’s body. No armor. No realization of the danger. He flung the dagger, trusting his aim. It plunged into the meat of Kadish’s thigh, and Haern allowed himself a smile.
And then he was moving again, his sabers reveling in the blood of his opponents. The whole tavern was in chaos, half fleeing, wanting no part of whatever might happen. Many others cried out in warning, expecting an ambush. One shouted Thren’s name, as if he must be the one responsible. Haern weaved through them all, deflecting sword strikes and slicing into the arms of those who thrust their daggers. A heavyset man tried to block his way at the door, but Haern rammed into him with his left shoulder. His right hand stabbed repeatedly. The two collapsed through the door, landing beside the bodies of the guards.
Out in the open, Haern took to his feet and ran. Curses followed after him, but he was too fast, the city so familiar that he could weave and turn without pause down the maze of alleys and streets. He wished he could