Poison Dance (Midnight Thief #0.5)(4)
“Gerred.” The man’s voice was tinged with panic.
Somehow, James wasn’t surprised. “What did he want?” he asked.
Another hesitation, which disappeared when James moved the knife closer. “I was to look for letters, money. Anything to see if you were gathering folk to you, with Clevon gone.”
James flicked his knife across the man’s throat, just hard enough to draw blood. The man cursed at him, and James dragged him to his feet.
“Let’s go pay Gerred a visit.”
*
To some extent, the bad blood between James and Gerred was Bacchus’s fault. Bacchus had been just as reckless with his insults during his early years as he was now. One day, a few years after Bacchus had joined the Guild, an older assassin named Nathaniel lost his temper and took a swing at him. But there was a reason Bacchus could afford to be so freely offensive. Within moments, the younger assassin had Nathaniel pinned against a table, a manic grin on his face as he tightened his grip on the older man’s throat. Other Guild members broke in between the two fighters before any blood was shed.
It should have ended like that, with bruised pride and nothing else. But a few days later, James overheard Nathaniel making plans to ambush Bacchus. James had watched the first fight without interfering—he’d had no special love for Bacchus back then, thinking him unpredictable and dangerous. But James disliked Nathaniel even more than he disliked Bacchus. The older assassin was part of Gerred’s inner circle and all too willing to abuse his position. It was why Nathaniel had even dared plan the ambush—infighting within the Guild was against Clevon’s rules, but Nathaniel thought himself untouchable.
Nathaniel’s crew was successful in their ambush. They had Bacchus on his knees, spitting blood, when James intervened. As it was, they didn’t see James until two men were already down with their throats slit. James would have preferred not to kill them—it meant more trouble from Clevon later on—but he couldn’t have gone up against four if he’d held back.
When Gerred found out, he demanded that Clevon execute James. Instead, Clevon pardoned him. Gerred and James maintained an uneasy truce after that. With the old guildleader gone though, it seemed that Gerred was taking more direct steps.
The carpenter’s shop had emptied considerably by the time James dragged the bound and gagged spy through the door. The only people left were Gerred, Lord Hamel, and two men that James recognized as Hamel’s bodyguards. Gerred stopped talking when James entered. His gaze went first to James, then to his prisoner, lingering in particular on the cut across the man’s neck.
“Please excuse me,” Gerred said to Lord Hamel.
There was a touch of a smirk on Hamel’s lips as he led his guards past James and his prisoner. James got the impression that the nobleman was amused by the hint of internal trouble. As the door closed behind Hamel, James turned back to Gerred.
“I brought him back this time,” said James. “Next time, I won’t.”
Gerred sat back in his chair, showing no more remorse than if James had accused him of forgetting his birthday. “I needed to know the loyalty of my men, with Clevon gone.”
At least he hadn’t tried to deny it. “Next time you’re wondering about my loyalties, ask me.”
“You know that’s not good enough. If you had nothing to hide, you had nothing to worry about. If you did . . ” Gerred shrugged.
James dumped the spy onto the ground. A small cloud of sawdust rose up off the floor. “I won’t follow a guildleader who thinks he can sift through my quarters on a whim.”
Gerred’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, James. Do you realize what you’re saying?”
James stopped himself. He hadn’t meant to overtly threaten defection. “I’m willing to work under you, Gerred. If you treat me fairly, I won’t cause trouble. But I won’t stand for spies.”
Gerred glanced at the candle on his desk. It hadn’t yet burned half its length. “You were hardly gone an hour. Rather impressive, to finish a job and make it back so soon.”
“I work quickly.” James couldn’t quite dredge up the motivation for a more convincing lie.
“I’ll wager you did,” grunted Gerred, taking one last look at the candle. “You’re a good assassin, James, provided you do as you’re told. Finish the jobs you’re given, follow instructions. You’ve been running jobs with Rand and Bacchus for a while now. I think it’s time you pair up with some others. I wouldn’t want you getting stale, working with the same crew all the time.”
And of course, separating him from Rand and Bacchus would make it harder for them to cause Gerred trouble. The guildleader was watching James carefully now, seeing if he’d provoked a response. Briefly, James entertained the thought of drawing his blade. Gerred was good, but he’d slowed with age. In a fair fight, the odds would be on James’s side, but Hamel and his bodyguards were just outside. Somehow, James suspected that starting a fight was exactly what the guildleader wanted him to do.
He kept his expression carefully neutral. “Very well then. If that’s what you think is best.”
Chapter Three
BACCHUS slammed his mug down on the table. “Now he wants to split us up? He’ll pair us with his lapdogs, mark my words. We won’t be able to do anything without him knowing again.” They were back at the Scorned Maiden, discussing the previous night’s events.