Chapter 10: A Friend of Ours

Frankie

Getting beaten hurt less when somebody healed you afterward.

It was still humiliating. That part, apparently, required time. I woke up the next morning without a broken rib, split lip, cracked tooth, or any of the other souvenirs Sir Aldric Valehart had handed me in front of half the town. Physically, I felt great.

I hated him for it.

Mara waited by the open door while I buttoned my shirt.

“You’re sulking.”

“I don’t sulk.”

“You have been glaring at your shoes for five minutes.”

“Whole outfit’s going to hell. Even the shoes. Pretty soon I’m gonna wind up dressed like one of you people in a curtain.”

She smiled.

“I might have an idea about that.”

I put on my jacket. Rosella had patched the sleeve, but the cloth still pulled across my shoulder. At this rate she’d be sewing a new suit around the old one.

“Later. I’m in no mood to solve anybody else’s problems right now.”

Even the bruises I could’ve pointed to were gone.

“Where are we going?” Mara asked.

“Town.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m governor.”

“You were governor yesterday.”

“Yeah, and yesterday some asshole in shining armor beat the governor unconscious in the street.”

“You challenged him.”

“I remember.”

“He warned you.”

“I remember that too.”

“He gave you several opportunities to stop.”

I looked at her.

“Mara.”

“Yes?”

“You enjoying this?”

“A little. Humility looks good on you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

We left.

The market was still there. The blacksmith still hammered. Rosella’s chimney still smoked above Frankie’s. Somebody was arguing over the price of turnips. But people watched me with a new interest, checking whether I was still the same guy after discovering I could lose.

I hated that more than pity.

“Christ, you’d think nobody around here ever lost a bar fight.”

“They’re not judging you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“They’re checking whether losing changes you.”

I looked at her. Mara shrugged.

“Azrath’s servants tend to become cruel when they’re embarrassed.”

“I didn’t lose face. I lost a fight. Everybody loses fights. It’s whether you get back up that counts.”

“Most of Azrath’s servants do not see it that way. Their egos tend to be as brittle as the skeletons they command.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t my first loss and it won’t be my last. My pride’ll survive a guy like that.”

I glanced toward the church.

“The man looks like he chews nails for breakfast and hasn’t read a book that wasn’t a prayer book since childhood.”

Mara considered that.

“True. He does look like he was never invited to the harvest festival.”

I stopped.

“Did you just call the paladin a square?”

“What is a square?”

“A guy who gets invited to a party and somehow makes everybody wish he hadn’t.”

Mara’s cheeks colored.

“Then yes.”

I smirked.

“I’m starting to like this lippy Mara.”

She immediately looked somewhere else.

We made it halfway across the market when I heard cheering.

It was the kind of cheering that came with money changing hands. I stopped.

“What’s that?”

Mara kept walking.

“No. Keep walking.”

“I asked what it was.”

“And I answered.”

“You made it sound like a good time.”

“No, Frankie.”

“Yup. That confirms it.”

I turned toward the noise.

“In we go.”

Another roar came from somewhere beneath the buildings. Mara sighed.

“The fighting pits.”

I turned.

“The what?”

“Frankie.”

“You people got fighting pits?”

“You are not buying them.”

“I didn’t say anything about buying them.”

“You made the face.”

“What face?”

“The face I’ve come to associate with your bad decisions.”

I headed toward the alley. She followed, muttering something about men. The stairs led beneath an old grain house. Heat and the stink of sweat and beer rose to meet us. Below us, about two hundred people screamed while two men tried to murder each other inside a circle painted red on the floor. I stopped.

“Well.”

Mara folded her arms.

“Happy?”

“Now this feels more like home.”

“Of course it does.”

The crowd surrounded a sunken pit maybe thirty feet across. Benches rose around it. Men shouted odds. Coins moved faster than fists. I watched one bookmaker take three bets without writing anything down.

“House take?”

Mara stared at me.

“What?”

“How much does the house keep?”

“I don’t know.”

“Huh.”

A bell rang. The bigger fighter smashed the smaller one into the wall. The crowd went crazy.

“No weapons,” Mara said.

“That a rule?”

“Yes.”

“Any magic?”

“No.”

“Deaths?”

“Sometimes.”

“Legal?”

“There is no law against it.”

I looked at her.

“God, I love this country.”

She covered her face. A man in a red vest climbed onto a platform.

“Next!”

The crowd quieted. He shouted a name. It was long. Very long. Something about stones, mountains, ancestors, and possibly somebody’s grandmother. I leaned toward Mara.

“What’d he say?”

She repeated it perfectly. I stared at her.

“No.”

The crowd started chanting. A dwarf entered the pit. Christ Almighty. He was built like somebody had taken an orc, compressed him to four feet, and forgotten to reduce the shoulders. He had a black beard, a broken nose, and scars on both arms. One eye was swollen. The other looked bored. His opponent was a young human, six feet tall and quick on his feet. The bell rang. The dwarf nearly took his head off. The human ducked. The dwarf swung twice more and missed both times.

“He’s strong,” Mara said.

“Too strong.”

“What?”

“He’s throwing everything.”

The human figured it out and started circling, making him turn between jabs and kicks. The dwarf kept coming. The human hit him in the mouth. The dwarf smiled. I knew that smile. I’d seen it after a woman left, a brother died, or the bottle stopped doing its job.

They weren’t trying to win.

They were trying to make getting hurt feel useful.

The human hit him again. The dwarf could’ve blocked the blow, but he took it. Then another. Blood ran into his beard. Then he hit the human just above the knee. One short punch. The leg folded sideways. The human caught the rail and stayed upright on the other one, shouting something the crowd enjoyed.

The dwarf could’ve finished him.

Instead he swung high. Missed. The human caught his beard and drove an elbow behind his ear. That finally brought him down. The bell rang. The crowd booed. The dwarf stayed on one knee. The man in the red vest climbed down.

“You useless little bastard.”

The dwarf looked up.

“Pay me.”

The owner laughed.

“Pay you?”

“I fought.”

“You lost.”

“I still fought.”

“You lost me twenty crowns.”

“That sounds like your problem.”

The owner kicked him in the ribs. The dwarf rolled. I started toward the pit. Mara caught my sleeve.

“Frankie.”

“What?”

“That expression.”

“What expression?”

“The Shiiruk expression.”

“I got an expression for Shiiruk?”

“Yes.”

“Gotta change the name. He checked out for good.”

Apparently I had a tell.

I stepped down. The owner saw me coming. His face changed.

“Sir Francesco.”

“Frankie.”

“My apologies.”

He straightened his vest.

“Enjoying the matches?”

“Who’s the dwarf?”

The dwarf spat blood. The owner frowned.

“Him?”

“Unless you got another one under the floor.”

The owner hesitated.

“Khordrumm Barak-Thulden, son of—”

“No.”

The dwarf looked at me. I pointed at the owner.

“What’s he owe you?”

The owner smiled. Now we were speaking his language.

“Forty-three crowns.”

The dwarf struggled upright.

“Thirty-eight.”

“Food.”

“Which I did not eat.”

“Beer.”

“Which was watered.”

“Lodging.”

“The roof leaks.”

The owner spread his hands.

“Forty-three.”

Mara leaned toward me.

“He’s lying.”

“I know.”

The owner looked offended. I handed him forty-three anyway. His offense disappeared.

“Then he is yours.”

“No.”

The dwarf’s head came up. The owner blinked.

“No?”

“He ain’t mine.”

“You paid his debt.”

“Yeah.”

“That means his contract passes to you.”

“Then give it here.”

He handed me the parchment. I looked it over. Couldn’t read a word. Didn’t matter.

I took out my lighter.

The dwarf stared at it. So did the owner. I struck the wheel. Flame jumped.

“Oops.”

I touched it to the parchment. Fire crawled up the edge. The owner’s mouth opened. I dropped the burning contract onto the dirt.

“Looks like there ain’t a contract anymore.”

Nobody said anything.

Good.

I looked at the dwarf. Up close I could see bruises spreading over his ribs. His eyebrow was split and his swollen hands hung open at his sides.

“You any good?”

He stared at me.

“You watched me lose.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Something flickered behind the good eye.

“I was.”

“Was?”

He shrugged.

That answered enough.

“I need an enforcer.”

He laughed.

“You need the man who just lost?”

“I need somebody strong enough that people listen before I gotta shoot them.”

He looked at the pistol under my jacket.

“What would I do?”

“Collections sometimes. Security. Keep trouble outta my tavern. Protect people working for me.”

“Break legs?”

“If necessary.”

That interested him.

“Kill?”

“If necessary.”

His eyes sharpened.

“Women?”

“No.”

“Children?”

“No.”

“People who cannot pay?”

“We work something out.”

He stared at me.

“Then what am I enforcing?”

“Rules.”

“Different racket,” I told him.

I held out a hand.

“Pays better than this dump.”

He left my hand waiting.

“What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

His brow furrowed.

“You paid forty-three crowns.”

“Yeah.”

“So I owe you forty-three crowns.”

“No. You owed him forty-three crowns. Now you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I need an enforcer.”

“Then I work for you.”

“If you want.”

I lowered my hand.

“Think it over.”

I turned away. Mara followed me upstairs. We got halfway down the alley before she spoke.

“You give people hope,” she said.

“I offered him a job.”

Mara smirked.

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No.”

“As you say, my lord.”

I didn’t like the way she said that.

By midday, Aldric had gathered half the town outside the church.

That was probably an exaggeration. It felt like half. He stood on the church steps in polished armor, sunlight bouncing off him like God had personally arranged the weather.

Show-off.

The damage from the death priests was still visible. Black scorch marks climbed the stone. One window had been boarded. The skull symbols had burned away cleanly. Flowers had appeared beside them instead. I recognized three women from the market. Rosella stood near the back. Benny was beside her. Elias stood right in front. Of course he did. Mara and I stayed near the edge. Aldric saw me. He didn’t acknowledge me. Smart.

“This land does not belong to the dead,” he said.

Good voice. Bastard even knew how to work a crowd.

“It belongs to those who sow it. Those who build upon it. Those who bury their fathers beneath it and raise their children upon it.”

People listened. Really listened.

“Azrath can be defeated.”

That caused movement. Aldric raised one hand.

“I will not lie to you. Men will die.”

The crowd quieted again.

“Perhaps I will die.”

That helped. He wasn’t selling them victory. He was offering the chance.

“I have fought the undead before. I know their weaknesses. I know men and women who will answer if called.”

Elias raised his hand. Aldric paused.

“Yes?”

“Can you kill him?”

Nobody had to ask who. Aldric looked toward the fortress.

“Yes.”

Elias straightened. I felt something unpleasant twist in my gut. Aldric noticed.

Good.

“Can you teach me?”

The kid was fifteen. Still apparently determined to get himself killed before he discovered shaving. Aldric studied him.

“I can teach you.”

Elias smiled.

“But not today.”

The smile vanished.

“You are brave.”

“I’m ready.”

“No.”

I almost smiled. Aldric continued.

“Courage and readiness are not the same thing. Come to the church. Learn. Train. Then we will speak again.”

Well.

Hard to complain about that.

Then I saw the dwarf listening at the back of the crowd. He’d cleaned his face, though the bruises still showed. Mara noticed too. Her eyes moved toward me.

“You could speak to him.”

“No.”

“You paid his debt.”

“Yeah.”

“You offered him work.”

“Yeah.”

“And now he is listening to the man trying to overthrow your employer.”

“Looks that way.”

“He ain’t working for me,” I said.

“And if he chooses Aldric?”

I looked at the dwarf.

“Then he chooses Aldric. His hammer’s his to sell.”

Mara studied me. I pretended not to notice. Aldric finished.

“Those willing to stand against the Undying may come forward.”

Nobody moved. Then Elias did. His father grabbed his shoulder. They whispered. Elias stayed where he was. Another man stepped forward. Then a woman. Five people. Maybe six. Out of hundreds. Aldric looked across the crowd. Nobody else moved. An old farmer near me cleared his throat.

“Sir Aldric.”

Aldric turned.

“My lord?”

“I’m no lord.”

The farmer scratched his beard.

“My cows came back.”

Silence.

“Kilkenny took them. Sir Francesco got them returned.”

A merchant spoke next.

“My shop was closed three years.”

Another.

“My sons eat every night now.”

A woman behind me said, “The collectors stopped taking seed grain.”

Somebody else shouted:

“The north road is safe!”

Then another:

“Brannik sells tools again!”

I wished they’d stop.

Aldric looked at me. He’d heard every word. The crowd drifted back to market stalls, fields, and kitchens. They had things to do now. I watched Aldric watch them leave.

Winning felt pretty good.

For about twelve seconds.

He came to Frankie’s that evening.

Naturally. Rosella fed him.

“You know he beat me unconscious yesterday.”

Rosella set stew in front of Aldric.

“He healed you.”

“That ain’t the point.”

“He’s a guest.”

Aldric took a spoonful.

“This is excellent.”

Rosella beamed.

Traitor.

Benny poured me a drink. Mara sat in the chair beside mine. I wasn’t sure when that had become her chair. Apparently it had. Aldric looked around the room. The tables were full. People shook dice and called for beer over the noise. A merchant was arguing with Brannik over hinges in the corner. A farmer had brought Rosella a basket of something purple that she planned to turn into sauce. Aldric watched all of it. Then looked at me.

“You’ve made tyranny quite comfortable for them.”

There it was. I put down my glass.

“You say that like starving children would be better.”

“No.”

“Dead farmers?”

“No.”

“Empty shops?”

“No.”

“Then what exactly are we arguing about?”

“That.”

He gestured around.

“You point to every good thing you have done as though it answers the question.”

“Who benefits from it?” he asked.

“Them.”

“Azrath.”

I leaned back.

“He gets paid either way. I’m just making sure they get the chance to survive it.”

“Exactly.”

“Difference is now nobody starves doing it.”

“And therefore nobody rises against him.”

I stared at him.

“You want me to make things worse so people hate the right guy?”

“No.”

“Then make up your mind, Al.”

His jaw tightened.

“My name is Sir Aldric.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t calling you that, Al.”

Mara hid a smile. Aldric leaned forward.

“I am saying your good works do not become meaningless because you serve evil.”

“Glad we agree.”

“But neither does the evil become harmless because you do good.”

That one sat there.

I took a drink. He continued.

“You keep answering whether what you did helped these people.”

“It did.”

“I know.”

That stopped me. Aldric looked around the tavern.

“That is why they chose you today.”

I said nothing.

“But you never answer for the power you leave in Azrath’s hands.”

The door opened. I looked over. The dwarf walked in wearing a clean shirt, his beard badly combed. He saw Aldric. Then me. Aldric stood. The dwarf shook his head.

“He was preaching a lot of light this, holy that.”

Aldric looked offended.

“I did not phrase it that way.”

The dwarf ignored him.

“And I realized I don’t belong there.”

He walked toward my table.

“I know what I am and what I’m not.”

He stopped in front of me.

“And I ain’t no champion of light.”

Aldric opened his mouth. I raised one finger.

“Not now.”

The dwarf looked at me.

“So you still need an enforcer?”

Mara smiled. I pointed at her.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were gonna.”

Her smile widened. I looked back at the dwarf.

“Can you stand?”

His expression darkened.

“I am standing.”

“Good. You’re hired.”

He blinked. That easy. I held out my hand. He took it. Strong grip.

“Name again?”

He told me. Still impossible. I stared at him.

“Hobb.”

His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’m calling you Hobb.”

“That is not my name.”

“Sure it is.”

“Why?”

“I saw you fight.”

He waited.

“You hit guys low. Knees mostly.”

“I struck one man in the knee.”

“He couldn’t walk afterward.”

“Yes.”

“You hobbled him.”

Silence. Benny slid a mug across the bar.

“Welcome, Hobb.”

The dwarf looked at Benny. Then me. Then the mug. He sighed.

“Hobb.”

“See? Growing on you already.”

“It is not.”

“Give it time.”

He drank. I looked around the tavern. Brannik arguing. Rosella cooking. Benny pouring drinks. Mara beside me. Hobb deciding whether he hated his new name enough to quit before his first shift. A week ago I hadn’t known any of them. Funny how that happened. My chair rocked when I reached for the bread. I caught the table before I could land on my ass. Hobb set down his mug.

“Get up.”

“You been employed thirty seconds.”

He pointed at the chair leg. I got up. He folded a scrap of leather beneath the short one and made me sit again.

“Better?”

It was. He took his mug back. Brannik began explaining why a competent man would repair the leg. Hobb told him a competent man was having a drink. Mara laughed beside me. I wished Lou could hear them. He’d have taken Hobb’s side just to make the argument last. Usually when I thought of Lou, I wanted him to come get me.

This time I wanted somebody to pull up another chair.

Aldric stood and set a few coins beside his bowl.

“Think it over.”

The bastard patted me on the shoulder.

“I’m not giving up on your soul yet.”

“Get in line.”

He left. Benny leaned over the bar.

“Friend of yours?”

I looked at Hobb. Then at the room.

“Friend of ours.”

Hobb stopped drinking. Just for a second. Then he finished the mug.