meant everything.
“I could replace you in a heartbeat.”
“But they’ll never follow you,” Garrick said, gesturing toward the door. “Them out there…they’re savages. They’re pigs. If they thought the only thing standing between them and ruling this guild was…was a woman, they’d strip you naked and take turns owning you.”
“They’d die if they tried,” Veliana said. She knew Garrick thought himself worth far more than he really was, but this was the most brazen he’d ever been. Something had changed, given him confidence…but what?
“Some, yes,” said Garrick, and a gleam shone in his drug-maddened eyes. “But not all. You need me, Vel. They listen to me. They trust me. I kept this guild together after James’s death. I kept our dealings going. I kept our coffers from emptying and our territory from becoming nothing more than a single penniless street.”
“That was me,” Veliana shouted, not caring if others might hear from behind the door. “I’m the one who bloodied her hands. I’m the one who gave them stability.”
“But do they know that?” he asked. He stepped closer to her, a smile growing on his face. It was the drugs, she thought. It had to be the drugs. Ignoring the daggers, he gently ran a hand along the wicked scar across her beautiful face, cutting from forehead to chin, discoloring her right eye from a dazzling violet to a red orb of blood.
“They won’t follow you,” he said again. “You’re damaged beauty. You’re dangerous, and they respect that, but they won’t submit to it. They listen now only because the specter of my authority hangs over you. Just like it did with James. You need me, just as I need you. More, even. Never forget that.”
She bit her tongue and fought down a thousand fantasies of plunging her daggers deep into his throat. Garrick walked back to his cushion, retrieved his pipe, and began the laborious process of filling it anew.
“I don’t care how powerful that freak is,” he said, meaning Deathmask. “I want him killed by tomorrow night, no matter how you do it. He’s clearly trouble, and in someone’s pocket. Cut his throat before he can accomplish whatever task he was sent here for. Deathmask? What a stupid name.”
“If you say so,” she said, nodding her head. “I’ll be in my quarters. I trust you’ll handle the matter of the Hawk Guild in an appropriate manner?”
Garrick smiled as she headed for the door.
“Dear Veliana, there are a thousand promises and lies between us all. You aren’t aware of half of them. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
She left without giving him the dignity of a response.
3
Haern slept beside the shop of a baker he’d befriended. Besides gaining an occasional scrap of bread, it let him take in the warm smells while he slept. He kept himself wrapped in blankets, never bothering to hide his face. His blond hair was matted to the sides of his head, much of his skin covered with dirt. He’d always been a clean, meticulous child. More than anything since his self-imposed exile from the Spider Guild, that bothered him the most. He knew there were ways he could wash up, obtain cleaner clothes, but it’d never work. What homeless, coinless man lived on the side of the street, yet kept a clean face and hands?
He had a small bowl before him, not expecting any alms but feeling his heart warm when he received them. It was mainly there for looks. Every guild in the city of Veldaren wanted him dead, and he wouldn’t draw needless attention to himself by neglecting the minor details.
Just before nightfall, he stirred. The baker had gone home for the day, so he picked the familiar lock and slipped inside. He stole two slices of bread, dumped his bowl’s coins across the counter to pay for the meal, and then left. He ate as he walked south along the main road, turning off after half a mile and heading directly into the territory of the Serpent Guild. He added a limp and ran through his persona for dealing with the Serpents. He let his lower jaw hang a little, and muttered a few random words, practicing his lisp. His name was Berg. He was often drunk. Like all his personae, he worked odd jobs, whatever paid him coin, and that gave him excuse to know things he shouldn’t know.
Like how the Watcher had intercepted a shipment of gold from the Serpent Guild bearing the Gemcroft sigil.
His contact was a one-eyed ruffian originally