Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 24

  A rapping came at his door, rousing him from his sleep. “Urgh,” he groaned, climbing out of bed. He was staying in a small apartment in the Tower District, just one of the many safehouses Elias had leased.

  He slowly opened the door, to see a young man standing there. He was a boy, really, barely fifteen or so. He carried a large bag and wore the emblem of the House of Words, a messenger service. The House of Words were perhaps the most efficient messenger company in all of Glimmer, trusted for their discretion and lightning quick ability to find people. Their services grew tenfold once magic was gone.

  “Sir!” the boy said, unrolling a scroll. “Mistress Sali has requested your presence at the site of the orphanage, and you are to arrive with much haste, as problems are developing.” He handed the scroll to Samuel and jutted his other hand out.

  “Thanks,” Samuel said, dropping a silver piece into the boy’s hand. The messenger’s eyes grew wide at the sight, but he kept his composure.

  “Shall I reply?”

  “Nah, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Samuel said. He reached over to grab his coat. He had been so tired when he got home that he passed out in his clothes, even his boots were still on. The boy nodded and scampered off, leaving Samuel to lock up and make his way through the empty Tower District.

  Most of the buildings were long gone and the few that remained were abandoned by their owners. There had been talks about the Tower District being renamed or even incorporated into the neighboring Market District, but those where just rumors. For now, it was mostly empty, save for the increasing homeless population.

  Samuel took the bridge leading into the Mermaid District. From the top of the bridge, he could see that a crowd was gathered in front of the construction site. That wasn’t a good sign. He rushed down to the site to find a line of big, strong men armed with steel pipes and clubs standing in front of the construction area. They were tightly formed together, preventing any of the construction workers from gaining access to the rubble.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Samuel asked as he approached the foreman. He noticed that Sali was standing to next to the man and was discussing something. As soon as she took notice of him, she rushed up to him.

  “So, the cleaning crew showed up early, to get the site prepped and ready for working on the new building,” Sali explained. “But…these guys were here waiting for them. Beat the crap out of the workers and told them to buzz off.”

  Samuel glanced at the ruffians. They wore thick chainmail shirts and looked ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. There were fifteen of them. This couldn’t possibly be the work of Patrick Yirn, could it? A shiver ran down his spine. The last thing Samuel needed was for this orphanage business to escalate.

  “Let me talk to them,” Samuel said.

  “Be careful, they put two of our guys in the hospital already,” Sali warned.

  Samuel approached the crew of thugs. One of them, a tall, ugly fellow with a big nose and a sneer on his face pointed at him with a club. “Back the hell off. This site is closed.”

  “Excuse me,” Samuel said, digging into his coat and producing a document. “But I have a signed and sealed decree of construction. We have a legal right to build here.”

  The leader snickered at that. “And I’ve got a legal right to swing my club wherever I like,” he said. “I suggest you take your crew and go home before it gets worse for you.”

  Samuel instinctively put his left hand in his coat, next to the strength Cimirite. It hadn’t been a full 24 hours since using it, meaning the crystal would shatter if he tried again. But it would still imbue him with power enough to take on these miscreants.

  “Look at his eyes,” one of the men said. “He’s thinking of actually fighting us.”

  With that, before Samuel could react, the leader swung his club and cracked him in the jaw hard, knocking Samuel to the floor.

  “Grhhhgnn,” Samuel mumbled. He was trying to speak words, but his jaw had been seriously wounded and he could barely open his mouth. The pain was unbelievable. He lay on the ground, clutching his bleeding face.

  “Damn it!” Sali shouted as she rushed over, brandishing a knife. “Leave him alone!”

  The rest of the thugs all laughed at that, pointing at her. She stood in front of Samuel, standing as tall as she could, defiant of them.

  “Ma’am, we have orders to protect this property,” the leader said. “And that is what we’re going to do. Now, you can try to fight us with a knife and die horribly, or you can take this fellow to the hospital before he bleeds to death. Either way, this construction site is shut down.”

  “Come on,” Sali said, bending down and grabbing Samuel by the arm. To his surprise, she was quite capable of lifting him up, over her shoulder and carrying him away from the thugs. His legs were dropping against the ground, dragging a little, but she didn’t seem to strain to carry him. He was quite impressed.

  “Arghhal,” he mumbled as she placed him on a picnic bench by one of the little lakes. The foreman and the rest of his crew dispersed, leaving them alone.

  “Stop trying to talk,” she said. She examined his jaw. “Broken alright.”

  Samuel reached into his pocket and touched the healing crystal. A surge of energy shocked through his body and his mouth quickly popped right back into place. It hurt like hell.

  “Ah!” he said, leaning up. “Holy crap that hurts.”

  Sali frowned. “Healing crystals really work that well?”

  “Yeah, apparently,” he said. This was the first time he used healing to repair major damage. He rubbed his jaw a little, checking for any signs of bruising or pain, but as far as he knew, he was completely healed.

  “You’re selling minor miracles,” Sali said, shaking her head. “I honestly don’t believe it.”

  Samuel ignored her comment. He merely looked at the construction site. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled. “I got the decree and scared the hell out of Yirn.”

  “Apparently you didn’t scare him enough,” she replied. She took out her handkerchief and started wiping the blood off of his face. “Hold still.”

  As Samuel pondered the situation, he noticed a few of the city watch walking through the streets. One of them, Lieutenant Grecin, was Markov’s right hand man. He stood and walked briskly to the man.

  “Wait, you’re not cleaned up yet!” Sali shouted after him, yet she did not follow. Rather, she sat and waited for him, perhaps out of the desire to stay away from whatever scheme he was cooking up.

  “Hey!” Samuel said, approaching the four guards. Grecin turned to face Samuel and nodded at him.

  “Sir,” Grecin said. “What can we do for you?”

  Samuel was quick to explain the situation, pointing out the men that had accosted him. He spoke at a length about the authorization he had. Grecin listened patiently and spoke afterward.

  “Sir, this is not something for the Watch to handle,” Grecin replied. “Our job is to stop crimes from happening.”

  “Isn’t assault a crime?” Samuel asked.

  Grecin shrugged. “Sorry, but this looks to be a dispute between you and Patrick Yirn.”

  “How so? I have his permission already,” Samuel said, waving the sheet of paper in front of the lieutenant.

  “Those men are employed by Yirn for security purposes,” Grecin said. “And the last thing I need is for him to summon Markov in front of the courts and chew us all out for getting involved with his business. I suggest you settle it with him.”

  And with that, Grecin and his men walked off, leaving Samuel to think. Patrick had screwed him over. Even though the man had been willing to sign the contract, it appeared that he truly hadn’t been intimidated. His blood began to boil once again. Apparently, he needed to teach Patrick yet another lesson. One that he wouldn’t forget so quickly.

  Samuel could have gone in late at night, like an assassin. He could have snuck into the home and slipped into Patrick’s bedroom, undetected. But that wasn’t the message he intend
ed to send. Samuel didn’t want to be seen as sneaky, rather he wanted to be seen as an unstoppable force. And so, enchanted with multiple crystals, he burst through the reinforced oak door that led to Patrick’s home office in broad daylight.

  Waiting for him was a small army, ten men, armed with swords, shields and covered in the finest of armor. Sitting at his desk was none other than Patrick, his chair turned towards the door as if he had been eagerly awaiting Samuel’s arrival.

  “Ah, so you return,” Patrick said. He narrowed his eyes and laughed a little. “Truly you are a foolish man. You were lucky to escape the first time, but now – “ his words were interrupted as Samuel waved his hand. His bracelet, covered in a special Cimirite charm, glowed purple for a moment, causing a fine mist to spray forth from his hand, causing all ten guards to immediately fall to the ground. They were asleep, of course, and would have the most refreshing rest of their lives. But Patrick didn’t know that.

  “What! A sorcerer? A devil?” Patrick gasped. He clambered out of his seat and backed up against the wall to his office. Samuel grinned and slowly walked forward.

  “You know, I tried to be a nice guy,” he said. “I tried to give you all the chances in the world to do the right thing and you spit in my eye.”

  “Tell me! How?” Patrick asked. “How did you kill them all?”

  “Trade secret,” Samuel said, grabbing Patrick by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “Now then, you know I’m not playing around, don’t you?”

  “Yes, yes,” Patrick grunted. “I know you’re serious.”

  “So, are you going to stand in my way any further?” Samuel asked, squeezing Patrick’s throat, causing him to squirm. The man tried to fight back, to push Samuel off but had no such luck. As he thrashed, his eyes darted past Samuel for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a guard slowly rolling over. The man was still asleep, but was stirring a little, as sleeping individuals often did.

  Patrick began to laugh. His laughter was obstructed and sounded more like coughing, but Samuel could see the levity in his eyes.

  “What’s so funny?” Samuel asked, slamming the man against the wall again.

  “You try to come in here and scare me with your magic,” Patrick wheezed, “but you didn’t have the guts to kill my men. Why should…why should I think you have the guts to kill me?”

  Samuel snarled at that and tightened his grip even harder, choking the life out of Patrick. The man choked and gagged, his face beginning to turn blue, but at the last second Samuel dropped him on the ground. Patrick began to laugh again.

  “You really don’t get it, kid,” he mumbled hoarsely as he rubbed his neck. “You can beat me up, you can hurt my arms or push me around all you like, but if you aren’t willing to kill me, then I have no reason to be afraid.”

  Samuel said nothing. He merely stared down at the man. Patrick was on the ground, crumpled in a ball and gasping for air.

  “Because in the end, I still hold all the power. Doesn’t matter how strong you are, how big you are or even how much magic you can use,” Patrick said. “I run the show. I pay the bills. I issue the orders. With a hundred men under my command, you will never see your precious orphanage built.”

  The smugness had returned to Patrick’s face. Sure, he was clutching his still broken arm and was laying on the ground, seriously injured, but he had won.

  “But let’s talk business,” Patrick said. “Because a man of your talents would be of exceptional use to me. In fact, if you are able to do things like put a whole room of men to sleep at once, I might even be willing to make a trade. You get the orphanage and I get your services. Sound fair?”

  Samuel gritted his teeth. He looked down at the man. There was only one way to get what he wanted. Sure, he could agree to work for Patrick, but the man would never fulfill his end of the bargain. He would use Samuel for whatever shady purposes and then would quickly try to betray him. This was a power struggle. Samuel didn’t have resources, or numbers or wealth. All he had was his smarts, the Cimirite and the determination to do some good in the world.

  “What do you say? Do we have a deal?” Patrick asked, he stretched his good hand upwards, waiting for Samuel to shake it.

  Samuel sighed and reached down to grab the man’s hand.

  “I knew you had it in you,” Patrick said. “You won’t regret – “ his words were interrupted as Samuel wrenched the man upwards. Anger was coursing through his body, he knew that there was only one way to solve this problem for good. It was a crime that men like Patrick got to enjoy their lives, to eat at clean tables and be waited upon by those without, while the rest of the people starved to death. What was the life of one man against the life of eighty children, children who had nothing except for a group of volunteers working to help them survive?

  “Stop! Please!” Patrick shouted as Samuel dragged him over to the window. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he knew. He should have stopped, he should have exercised some self-control, but all he could think about was the damnable grin the man wore. How dare he get to smile up at Samuel while others starved to death in the streets? All this wealth and not a shred of compassion.

  Samuel lifted Patrick up high and took a deep breath. “At the end of it all,” he whispered, “was this worth it?”

  “Please! Please!” Patrick cried, thrashing about. His calm demeanor was gone, and he was panicking. A little voice within Samuel whispered to him, pleading to put the man down. He was scared enough, after all, to have learned his lesson. But Samuel ignored it. If Patrick hadn’t learned the first time, he wouldn’t learn at all. Hopefully the next zoning commissioner would have better sense than him.

  And with that, Samuel threw Patrick through the glass window as hard as he could. The glass shattered, and Patrick cried out in agony as his body crashed into the cobblestone. Thanks to Samuel’s enhanced strength, there were cracks in the ground. Samuel dropped down and landed next to the wounded and gasping Patrick.

  “P…please,” Patrick whispered, trying to reach upwards to Samuel. He was so bloody that he was almost impossible to recognize. Samuel watched as the man gasped one last time before dying from his injuries. A crowd of guards arrived quickly and surrounded him.

  “Don’t move!” one man shouted, raising his halberd high.

  “He’s dead,” Samuel said, pointing to the man. “And I believe he was the one responsible for paying you.”

  The men looked at one another.

  “Now, you can wonder how a single man managed to kill your employer while you fiercely guarded the outside of the home, or you can help yourself to whatever is of value in this house,” Samuel said. “Before the city watch arrives to ask questions.”

  And just as Samuel had suspected, all of the men were quick to turn and rush into the house. Patrick had a lot of money, but apparently the one thing he couldn’t buy was the loyalty of his people.

  Alone, Samuel walked back to his home, knowing that he had done the right thing. He had just killed a man, for the first time in his life. All the feelings that he feared would be there, the guilt, the fear, the pain, they hadn’t arrived yet. Instead, he felt a warm joy, knowing that he had protected the weak and the helpless. He was beginning to understand Cimir’s philosophy. Be kind to your friends and strangers and ruthless to your enemies. And Samuel’s ruthlessness had just given eighty children a new chance at a good life. Perhaps the guilt would come, but for now, all he felt was joy.

  Chapter 26:

  Lady Mira swallowed a little as she walked through the dark alleys of the Kraken District. This part of town was mostly dead during the later evening, with all the workers having gone home or to taverns in other parts of the city. Normally, she was comfortable walking in any part of the city. She had nothing to fear, no reason to worry about the seedier element accosting her. Most knew her as a woman of healing, who brought cures and poultices to all. Few would dare to put their hands on her, knowing that she held the secrets to healing in her head. And th
ose who did seek to do her harm would often find themselves in the clutches of those who owed her much thanks for her tireless work.

  But the source of Mira’s discomfort was not the dangerous elements around her, but rather what she was heading toward. The conversation with her boss had been brief, as all conversations with Francis were. Yet this one had been different.

  He had called for her in the later evening, outside of Saint Jarick’s, where the newly erected statue of Kalimar stood. She had arrived quickly, still covered in blood from a previous operation. The messenger sounded so urgent that she didn’t think to clean herself up. The fountain would clean her, she had misremembered. The healing waters that cured all sickness and filth were long dried up in the fountain of St. Jarick’s. Now all that remained was mud and a few coins that the beggars hadn’t been able to find.

  “Lady Mira,” Doctor Francis had said, looking away from her. He only stared intently at the statue of their supposed new leader. She had little care for politics, but this man was responsible for the deaths of many already.