The Hammer and the Blade

CHAPTER FOUR

Eating knives had scored the polished wood of the Tunnel's bar over the years, the lines like obscure runes, glyphs written by wastrels in the language of drunks. Nix and Egil sat there for hours, tended to by a taciturn Gadd, watching patrons enter the Tunnel sober and stagger out drunk, or weave up the stairs with an arm around one of Tesha's men or women.

They drank Gadd's ale under the gaze of Lord Mayor Hyram Mung, whose portrait hung from the wall behind the bar, next to the dram writ that authorized the Tunnel's existence. After a time, the Lord Mayor's beady eyes, doughy flesh, and double chins became too much to bear.

"Gadd, I want that portrait taken down," Nix said. "Get something more suitable."

Kiir stood beside him, sipping an apple wine. "He is ugly."

She'd come and gone several times during the night, and each time Nix felt her absence as his imagination tortured him with what she might be doing while gone.

"And fat," said Lis, sitting beside Egil and facing the common room. "I hear his adjunct is handsome, though."

Kiir giggled.

"Gadd," Nix said. "Did you hear?"

Gadd, arranging his tankards and mugs behind the bar with the same care an alchemist might show to his alembics and beakers, looked a question at him.

Nix pointed at the portrait behind the bar. "Down. I want that down."

"Drink?" Gadd said, his eastern accent as thick as his eel stew. "Ale?"

"No, no, not a drink. I have one. The painting." Nix made an expression like that of the Lord Mayor in the portrait — eliciting another giggle from Kiir — and pointed at it. He made a downward gesture. "Down. I want it down. It irks."

Gadd pointed a thumb at the portrait, eyebrows raised in a question.

"Yes, yes, the portrait," Nix said. "Down."

"Mayor," Gadd said, and mimed the Lord Mayor's expression himself. "Nice picture."

Nix cursed while Egil and the women laughed aloud.

"This seems funny to you?" Nix asked. "Our tapkeep can't speak Realm Common."

"He seems to manage well enough," Egil said. "Besides, his ale is the best thing here. This place is a shithole. That hiresword had the right of that, at least."

Nix sighed. "Aye. But as you said, it's our shithole."

"Hey!" Kiir said.

"Take no offense, love. You and Lis brighten it immeasurably." Nix snapped his fingers. "Egil, maybe we could convert it to a temple of Ebenor? Get the Momentary God some worshippers who aren't angry whoresons?"

Egil's expression darkened under his thick eyebrows.

Nix had meant his words as jest, but they'd gotten ahead of his sense.

"That was in poor taste. Apologies, my friend."

"But…" Lis began, and trailed off. She bit her lip, fidgeting with a question unasked.

Egil sighed. "Ask," he said.

"No, no," Lis said, obviously embarrassed. She fidgeted more. "I don't-"

"I can see you have a question." Egil sipped from his tankard, put it down. "Ask so it's out of your head. I'll not have you fidgeting with it all night."

Still she hesitated.

"He's not as mean as he looks," Nix said to her. "He won't bite… at least not more than once."

Lis smiled, turned toward Egil, and dove in. "Your tattoo?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't understand. Why Ebenor? Why not Aster? Or Borkan? I thought Ebenor was… dead? And he was a god for only a heartbeat, wasn't he?"

"He was a god for only a moment," Egil said, staring straight ahead. "But then, we're all gods for only a moment."

"I don't… What?"

Egil said, "Why do you wear the harp of Lyyra, Lis?"

Lis looked down at the cheap charm that hung between the pale mounds of her breasts: a harp, the symbol of Lyyra, Goddess of Sensuality and Pleasure.

"Oh, I don't know. It was a gift from a regular. I'm not really religious…" She colored. "I'm just trying to make this life bearable, I suppose."

"Me, too," Egil said, and frowned. He thumped his tankard on the bar. "Discussion of this kind rarely helps in that regard. Gadd, a refill if you please."

Lis looked over at Nix and Kiir as if for help or advice, but Nix had none to give. He knew why Egil had turned to the worship of Ebenor, and he never spoke of it. Lis looked back at Egil.

"Forgive my question," she said softly. "Your beliefs are none of my concern. I shouldn't have asked. I didn't mean to… pain you."

Gadd put another tankard before Egil. Still the priest did not look at Lis, nor at any of them. He stared straight ahead, his mind in the past, on tragedy.

"Life is made up of moments, Lis," he said, his normally gruff voice turned soft. "Some good, some… bad. In these days I'm just trying to have more of the good ones. Apologies for speaking harshly just now."

Lis must have heard the hurt in Egil's voice. She stared at him, sympathy in her eyes, then put her hand on his hairy arm. He seemed startled by her touch, but did not move his arm away. He looked down at her hand, tiny and pale on his massive, tanned forearm. After a time, he put his other hand over hers.

Nix felt as if he were seeing something private, sacred, and he found himself hoping that someone, sometime in his life, would touch him with the same sense of unabashed compassion Lis had just shown Egil.

"Yes, well," Nix said, treading lightly. "As we were discussing. Right. Well. So, do you think we should hire someone to run this place for us?"

Egil patted Lis's hand once before removing his own. "Like who?"

Nix turned around on his stool, studied the raggedy handful of men who still remained, as if one of them might be a candidate. He caught the four watchmen eyeing him as they talked softly among themselves. They hadn't touched their ales. Nix smiled falsely at them, turned back to the bar.

"I don't know."

"What about Tesha?" Kiir asked.

"She already mostly runs the place," Lis added.

Egil and Nix shared a look. Egil shrugged. The idea seemed reasonable to Nix, too.

"She is competent," Egil said.

"More than competent, from what I've seen. And she runs the… workers, so she's already halfway there. We could give her free room and board, halve the price of rent and board for her workers, and for that she runs the whole place for us. We just take the profits."

Kiir squealed, embraced Nix, her rapid motion filling the air with the scent of her perfume. "We'll go tell her."

"Wait, we're just…" Nix said, but too late. They were off.

"… talking," he finished.

"Looks like done is done," Egil said, and chewed his mustache. "Could work. Tesha, I mean. She'll need some muscle, though, else how can she deal with bungholes like that hiresword?"

"She's got her own ideas about that," Nix said, thinking of the dressing-down Tesha had given him. "Besides, we'll be here often enough, and when we're not, our names still carry weight. And if it came to it, we could hire someone."

Egil waved a hand in the air to disperse the aromatic smoke from Gadd's pipe. Nix slid the ash tray down the bar, away from them.

"It's a marvel the man can understand any Realm Common at all, inhaling all that stink."

Egil said, "I thought you wanted to be a landed gentleman, maybe get a seat on the Merchants' Council. Respectability, you said."

"Oh, I do. And we'll still be respectable. Or at least more than we are now. But… being respectable seems like a lot of work, doesn't it? Am I wrong?"

Egil laughed, raised his tankard in a toast. "You're not. It does seem like work."

"You know, maybe we should change the name from the Slick Tunnel to the Shithole? Embrace the truth, as it were. Some might find it amusing. What do you think?"

"I think my ale cup is empty again."

"That it is." Nix gestured to the tapkeep. "Ales around, Gadd."

That, Gadd understood, and they were soon staring at full tankards, listening to the sound of the common room behind them.

"Those four slubbers still watching us?" Nix asked.

"I believe they are," Egil said. "Been watching us the whole time. I guess they are here for us. What do you suppose they want?"

"The fun's in finding out, yeah?"

Egil drained his cup as he stood. "Yeah."

"Try not to throw anyone else bodily from the premises," Nix said, loosening his falchion in its scabbard. "Tesha frowns on it."

"Well enough."

They stalked across the common room. The four men saw them coming, nudged each other. Expressions tightened, and hands went low, near hilts. The men slid their chairs back from the table to give them room to stand, pushed back capes to give unfettered access to blades.

Mindful of Tesha's admonition, Nix faked a smile, an expression he'd worn both while seducing women and while putting a span of steel into a man's gut. Egil simply wore his usual surliness. False expressions weren't in the priest, no matter the circumstances. If Egil wanted someone dead, that someone would see it coming well in advance.

Out of habit, Nix and Egil spaced themselves at two paces, wide enough to ply their weapons without getting in each other's way, should it be necessary. Nix hoped it wouldn't, but it paid to be prudent.

"And how do you fare, goodsirs?" Nix asked.

"Uh, fine," said one of the younger men, and the older shot him a glance that said "shut up."

"Is the ale to your satisfaction?" Nix asked.

The three younger men, perhaps puzzled by the mundanity of the question, looked to the older bearded man, whom Nix made as their leader.

"It's quite good," said Beard. "Surprisingly so."

"Excellent," Nix said, and nothing more. He and Egil stood their ground in silence, near enough to the table to make their presence an irritant. Nix kept his smile and Egil his frown, the two of them comfortable with the other men's growing discomfort.

"Something else?" Beard finally asked.

"I don't know," Nix said pointedly. "Is there something else?"

The man seemed to take his point. He pushed his tankard away, looked to his fellows, back to Nix, then put his hands on the table where they could do nothing foolish.

"Right. So, you're Nix Fall and Egil of Ebenor?"

"And you're Dur Follin Watch, yeah? That bit at the Slum Gate-"

The man shook his head. "Isn't my concern. What makes you think we're watch?"

"If not watch then what?" Nix asked.

"Do you answer every question with a question?"

"Do I, Egil?" Nix asked the priest.

"What of it if you do?" Egil answered.

Nix looked at Beard. "Do questions bother you?"

One of the other three men smiled, probably the youngest. Beard did not. He looked from Egil to Nix and shook his head as if to clear it of confusing thoughts.

"No. Look. I mean, listen, we work for someone who's interested in your… services. We've been waiting for the right time to approach you. You were either fighting or surrounded by women 'til now."

"You speak of it as if that's a bad thing," Nix said.

More smiles from the other three.

"And I wanted to take your measure," Beard said.

"Really? And how'd you go about that?" Nix asked.

"And since when's it take four armed and armored men to make a job offer?" Egil growled. He let his hands fall to the hafts of his hammers.

"Does seem less than gentlemanly," Nix observed solemnly.

"Just tell me if you're interested," Beard said, his voice tinged with impatience. "The terms are generous."

"I'm not interested," Nix said. "Egil?"

"No."

"And there you go," Nix said.

"But-"

"See, we don't hire out," Nix said. "Not our approach, powerful patron or no."

"But-"

Egil stepped forward and put his hands on the table, nearly toppling it, staring Beard in the face. "We. Don't. Hire. Out."

To his credit, Beard looked neither frightened nor especially put out by Egil's tone and proximity. Most men would have been.

Military, Nix figured. Had to be. Or damned experienced watch.

"Offer our regrets to your employer," Nix said. "Meanwhile, enjoy the ale and the rest of your evening. Here, if you have half a mind. Elsewhere, if you have a whole."

Beard shook his head. "You're making a mistake here."

"Doubtful," Nix said.

With that, he and Egil turned and started to walk off.

"Final word, then?" Beard called after them. "You're certain?"

Nix did not like the implication dangling in the sentence. He turned around, his eyes hard.

"No, these are my final words: don't get cute with me in my own place. Oh, and stop fakking staring holes into my back, yeah?"

Two of the three younger men leaped to their feet, sending chairs toppling. They had hands on their sword hilts, but Beard halted them with a sharp word and a raised hand. Egil's hammers were already in his hands, a snarl on his lips.

"Barky bunch of curs, ain't they?" Nix said.

Egil grunted. "Need to be brought to heel, maybe."

"Nix!" called Tesha from her station atop the stairs.

Nix winced, and dared not turn to face her.

"We were only asking," Beard said calmly. At his gesture, his two underlings retook their seats and removed hands from hilts. "We intended no offense."

"A misunderstanding, then," Nix said, hopefully loud enough for Tesha to hear. "No harm done. As I said, enjoy your evening."

"Elsewhere's probably best though," Egil added.

As Nix and Egil walked back to the bar, Tesha descended the stairway to meet them. She smiled at a patron ascending the stairs with one of her girls, but the smile disappeared the moment the patron was out of eyeshot. Nix tried not to ogle her figure as she moved toward them.

"You can muster a fake smile as well as me," Nix said to her.

"Twice in one night you threaten-"

"Leave it be, woman, "Egil said. "They're watch or kith to watch. We only had words."

" Heated words," she said.

"Words, heated or no, shed no blood."

Nix cut off whatever she intended to say. "Did Kiir and Lis tell you our thinking? About this place?"

For the first time, Tesha's severe expression softened. "They did, but… did you mean it? I thought you were having a jest at their expense."

Nix shook his head. "We're earnest. Free room and board for you. As for your workers, half of what they've been paying for rent and board. Profits come to us, less ten percent as your earnings. No negotiations. That's the offer. Done?"

Her expression vacillated between surprise, hope, and skepticism. "This is business, Nix. Nothing else. You're clear on that?"

"You cut me deeply, milady. If ever I have to buy an entire tavern to procure sex, even from one as lovely as you, Egil has standing instructions to kill me."

Egil chuckled. So did Tesha, and Nix thought the sound musical.

"What about Gadd?" she asked, and looked over her shoulder at the towering tapkeep. He tended his wares, as always, working his sorcery behind the bar. Morra flew by, holding her usual platter of ales.

"He already eats and drinks free," Nix said. "His pay is your concern, but keep it reasonable. Morra's too. If you accept the offer."

She put a hand on her hip, looked around the common room.

"See how she considers?" Egil said. "A wise woman. If we'd done that, we'd never have bought the place."

"Unhelpful, priest," Nix said out of the side of his mouth. "What do you say, Tesha?"

She nodded to herself and stuck out a hand. "Done and done."

Nix shook it, feeling a charge at her touch. Egil shook her hand perfunctorily.

"We're going to drink now," Egil said. "It's your show, Tesha."

"And send Kiir down, if you would," Nix said.

"Kiir?" Tesha asked, and her lips pursed. "Oh… Fine."

As she walked away, Nix elbowed Egil. "You see how she hesitated there? She likes me."

"So you say," Egil said. "And now to the Altar of Gadd."

"For libations. Aye."

Soon thereafter the four watchmen settled their bill and left without a backward glance.

"Not sorry to see those slubbers vacate," Nix said.

"Aye. Doubtful they return."

The crowd thinned as the night got on and the water clock of Ool soon announced the small hours. Nix nursed an ale at the bar, trying to stifle yawns. Despite turning management of the place over to Tesha, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd bound himself to a piece of property, and that it had shrunk his world rather than expanded it.

He stuck his nose under his shirt and winced at the reek. He smelled of sweat, sour beer, and Gadd's pipesmoke. Basically, he smelled like the Slick Tunnel.

To Gadd, he said, "I had no idea owning a business would be so damned boring."

"One day of respectability and that about serves," Egil said.

Gadd made a non-committal grunt. His tattooed hands and arms worried at the tankards and cups. He took out a pouch of something — hops, Nix thought, or maybe some kind of snuff — crushed them in his hands, inhaled deeply.

"You don't understand anything we say, do you?" Nix said.

Gadd looked up, a dust of the snuff across his broad nose. "Drink?"

Nix smiled. "No. Still working on this one. Keep doing what you do, man."

To occupy the time, Nix examined the ivory wand he'd found in the tomb of Abn Thahl. He studied the tiny carvings on its shaft, his mind drifting back to his time in the Conclave as he tried to make sense of the characters.

The scent of perfume presaged Kiir's arrival beside him.

"You have scant idea how pleased I am to see you," he said with a smile.

She smiled shyly, sat, and nodded at the wand. "What's that?"

"'Ware my stink," Nix said. "And this? This is nothing, just one of my gewgaws, as Egil would say. I took it from the tomb of an Afirion wizard-king after defeating the devil that guarded it."

He spoke casually, but his words summoned the response he'd hoped for. Her eyes widened with wonder and she made a circle of her ring finger and thumb, a protective gesture, the symbol of Orella. She leaned in close to him, and he felt the warmth of her through his clothes. Her hair smelled of vanilla and the scent made him more lightheaded than Gadd's smoke.

"A real devil of Hell?" she asked.

"Indeed," Nix said, warming to the tale. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. "He stood twice as tall as Egil, coated in scales as large as my hand and as hard as steel. He had fanged rictuses at the ends of his arms. A terrible foe. Terrible."

"Gods preserve! How did you escape it?"

Beside Nix, Egil harrumphed. "Escape it? We slew it."

Her hand went to her heart-shaped lips. "Slew it? How?"

Nix sipped from his tankard. "Sharp steel and sharp wits, same as always."

She touched his forearm, just a brush of her fingers. "Your life sounds so interesting. It must be exciting to travel around Ellerth as you do."

"It is. We-"

Suspicion dawned. He turned on his stool, studied her face, her smile, the look of wonder. He pulled back.

"Wait. Are you Jonning me?"

Her smile widened, her brown eyes bright.

"You are!" he said. "Playing me like a Jon. Got me talking about myself while you act the innocent. I see what you're doing."

She batted her eyelashes, and damned if she didn't almost have him again.

"None of that now," he said, and she gave a genuine laugh and laid her hand on his arm. The feel of her skin on his felt warm, comforting.

"Don't take it ill," she said. "You seemed to be having fun. Besides, it's habit and hard to break. Men love to jabber on to a pretty girl."

Nix thought of the coinpurses he'd lifted earlier, both done out of habit. "Habit, I understand. And you are pretty. But now I feel a bit of an arse."

"Don't. And if you're not filling my ears with shite, I am interested in hearing about the wand. Is that a real pearl?"

Nix nodded. "A shaft of ivory capped with a pearl."

She leaned in close. "What does it do?"

"I don't know yet. But as I always say, the fun's in finding out."

"You don't know yet?" The surprise in her expression made her look even prettier. "Aren't you afraid to carry it around? What if it… I don't know, it went off and filled your trousers with lightning?"

Nix grinned. "Avoiding the obvious response to a pretty girl's mention of lightning in my trousers, I'll say instead that while I don't know exactly what it does, I have a rough idea."

"And?"

Egil looked over from his somber ruminations. "Yes, and?"

Nix leaned forward, elbows on the bar, holding the wand across his palms. "The wizard-kings of Afirion were known to practice the art of transmutation, changing things into other things, or modifying existing things to make them better. The ivory and pearl construction is consistent with a transmutational device. The substance used to craft the wand suggests a minor transmutation."

"Continue," Kiir said.

Nix's eyebrows rose. "You understood all that?"

"I'm a prostitute, Nix, not a dolt. I know some things."

"Er… right. Well enough, then. So, now we examine the carvings that adorn the wand for some indication of function."

He turned it in the meager light, to show the many grooves and whorls that lined it. Some looked like serpents, some like abstract shapes, others like script.

"And?" Kiir said.

"And this," Nix said, pointing to a tiny image carved into the wand. "It appears right under the pearl, and also on the opposite end. It's the operating glyph."

Kiir squinted at the image. "What is it?"

"It's a bull."

She leaned forward and eyed the wand. "That's a bull?"

"Of course it's a bull." Nix eyed it more closely. "Well, I'm pretty certain it's a bull. An artist's interpretation of a bull. Maybe. What else could it be?"

"A dog." Kiir said. "A rat. A cat."

Egil guffawed.

"Pfft. No, it's a bull. I'm certain."

She leaned back. "So if it's a bull, what does that mean?"

"Not certain of that either."

"That's much uncertainty for one wand," she said.

"Well, what do think of when you think of a bull?" Nix asked her.

"Horns."

"No," Nix said. "Size, right? Strength, too. Given that, I think the wand will make its target bigger and stronger, at least for a time."

"Hmm," Kiir said. "If true, that'd be useful."

"Indeed," Nix said.

" If you're right," she added.

"You are possessed of little faith."

"I'm not the priest," she said.

Another guffaw from Egil. He toasted her with his ale.

"How do you make it work?" she asked.

"A word in the Language of Creation awakens the magic. That's true of all enspelled items, including and especially wands. Then… you just aim."

"You know the Mages' Tongue?" she asked, unfeigned surprise in her tone.

"I'm a tomb robber," he said with a wink. "Not a dolt. And, as it happens, my tongue knows many, many things."

She laughed, her lips parting to show perfect teeth. "You're awful."

Egil toasted her again. "The priest agrees entirely."

"I am awful," Nix acknowledged with a nod. He drained his tankard. "I really am. As it happens, I spent most of a year at the Conclave. That's where I learned the bits I know."

She looked even more surprised than when he'd mentioned the Mages' Tongue. "I thought studies there lasted several years."

"He dropped out," Egil said.

" No," Nix said irritably. "I was expelled. That's a much more honorable method to part ways with that place and its so-called instructors."

"Agreed," Egil said, and harrumphed. "Wizards."

"Third best event of my life, that expulsion," Nix said, thinking back on his younger days at the Conclave.

"So, in only a year you learned the Mages' Tongue?"

"Bits of it," Nix said, unwilling to admit that he knew some words but not their meanings. "Enough to do a few things. I wouldn't want to know much more. It's the gods' tongue, used to create Ellerth and the vault of stars. Speaking it too much is said to drive a man mad. Words not meant to be heard by mortals and so forth."

"There's truth in that," Egil said. "From what we've seen."

Now it was Nix's turn to toast his friend. He and Egil had crossed many sorcerers over the years and not one seemed to think with sense.

"They say magic's in the blood, not the tongue," Kiir said. "So I guess you're born of a sorcerer, Nix Fall."

"Ha!" Nix said. "Not likely in this blood."

Nix was born of a prostitute and a Jon and had no idea of his lineage.

"So then," Kiir said, "how'd you get into and out of a wizard-king's tomb with your lives?"

Gadd put an ale before her and she smiled her thanks at the tall easterner.

Nix just shook his head. "Tricks of the trade, love. Some secrets we must keep to ourselves. Suffice to say it was a close thing."

Egil said, "It was. But we rob tombs better than we run taverns, so here we sit."

"Here we sit," Nix said, toasting his friend a second time.

"I'm glad of it," Kiir said.

"And I," Nix said.

Tesha spoiled the moment by calling down from the stairs. "Kiir!"

"Work calls," Kiir said, standing.

Tesha stood at the top of the stairs, a young man beside her. The man eyed Kiir hopefully and Nix liked it not at all. The man shifted on his feet in his eagerness, his smile filling his whole face. He couldn't have been more than twenty winters, just some bird-witted hob with a few terns rattling around in his pocket and a prick hard for a pretty girl.

Nix said, "You know, you don't have to-"

She put a small hand to his lips. "Don't do that, Nix. This is my life. I chose it. Let's not pretend this is more than it is."

He stared into her eyes, nodded. "If it is, though?"

She smiled, patted his arm.

"I must remember never to underestimate you," he said.

"Men always underestimate women, so you're ahead on that score."

He touched her wrist, unwilling to let her go. "Are all the women who work here as sharp as you and Tesha?"

"Every one," she said. She winked and walked away, letting her fingertips drag across Nix's forearm.

After she'd left, Nix looked to Egil. "There's no one naive left in this town."

Egil nodded, staring into his ale cup. "Still in love?"

Nix watched Kiir walk up the staircase, the sway of her hips, the way the bodice of her dress gripped her curves. "Pits, maybe more than ever."

Egil took a slug of Gadd's ale. "I don't blame you."