Chapter 20
The archer didn't hear him approach, too focussed on his targets. He flinched as Hadlaug grabbed him, but the blade went up under his chin before he could react. Hadlaug held on until the fleeing pair were past before letting him fall. Their flight would distract the mercenaries, maybe let him deal with a few more before clearing out.
He ducked through the nearest window, the one the archer had used. Stalking through the building, he only slowed on approaching the front door. It still stood open, and he heard footsteps approaching at a trot, accompanied by harsh mutters. A cautious glance saw a couple of mercenaries – an archer and a swordsman. Trying to catch up to the fight?
Hearing no other sounds nearby, and recalling the escape route back through the building, he stepped out as they passed. He stabbed the swordsman in the neck with his short blade before they could react.
The archer stumbled away, trying to bring his bow to bear. Hadlaug didn't give him the chance, charging in and slicing his throat, cutting through the bow in passing as though it were grass. Cutting through the armour would have been as easy with the glyphs on the blade, but could draw too much attention to a glyphed weapon.
Glancing along the street Hadlaug saw no inconvenient witnesses. Or any more mercenaries. Leaving the dead or dying men, he strode away.
He'd already left a few bodies out of sight, and the rest would be focussed on their prey. This was likely the last couple he'd have the opportunity to take so easily. In groups small enough to be easily dispatched.
The local guards would be along soon. He'd deal with the rest another time. Making his way along a couple of alleys, he stopped at a small door, pulling it carefully open. The bodies still lay on the handcart, bound and unconscious.
Tossing a sheet over them, he took up the handcart.
He stuck to alleys and quiet streets until he reached the Grey Docks district, watching for guards or mercenaries. Not the worst slum he'd seen, at least it was quiet this time of day. And those about exhibited practiced ignorance when it came to a pair of bodies in a cart.
The building he'd hired was sufficiently isolated for his purposes, and its cellar thick enough. He tipped the bodies down the chute leading to the cellar. Taking the steps down, he hoped – vaguely – that both still lived.
They did, and had been roused by the fall. They spotted him enter, and their struggles against the bindings increased. He didn't rush. They were firmly bound.
After fastening heavy blankets over the chute to muffle the sound, he hauled each up in turn and fastened them to the chairs, placed so they looked at the knives arrayed on the table. Smaller than he'd normally use, these blades would serve their purpose. He set a casual pace, ignoring their futile struggles.
With both men seated and secured, he approached the table. Selecting a small blade, he rejoined them with disinterest.
The first he slashed down the right side of his face, passing over his eye without cutting it. The man writhed, screaming into the gag.
The second tried backing away. Hadlaug took a firm hold of his hair and the man went rigid as the blade approached, not wanting his struggles to make the damage worse. A slice to his ear lobe left it hanging loose, and he joined the muffled screaming.
Flicking blood off the blade, Hadlaug returned it to the table. He turned and waited for the screaming to stop. It took a minute.
'That's so there's no illusions. This isn't genteel questioning. One of you sons of bastards killed my brother. I doubt I'll ever really know who it was, so I'll just have to kill you all. But I need information, so you get a choice. One of you dies bad, the other quick. Who wants to talk first?'
He waited through the inevitable struggles, as they tested their bonds for any hint of slackness. Scarface was on the verge of panic, glancing around for a way to escape, and finding none. Loose-Ear glared at Hadlaug, with the occasional glance at the knives. His eyes betrayed what he saw of his future.
It took a minute for them to run through their options. Scarface took longer to realise the hopelessness of their predicament, and didn't fully discard his delusions. They went quiet enough for him to start, so he did.
Walking behind them, he untied the gags. Strolling back to the table, he picked another knife.
'You closed off a mine down south,' said Hadlaug. 'Killed some of the miners. My brother was among them.'
'I didn't kill anyone,' said Loose-Ear.
Hadlaug strolled towards him, took him by the chin, and flicked the sliced ear. The man gasped, and Hadlaug shoved his jaw up to hold his mouth closed before he could cry out. When the tension drained away he let the man's chin flop, gasping for air.
Hadlaug turned to Scarface.
'I didn't see anyone killed,' said Scarface, blinking blood from his eye. 'We were just running them off.'
'That sounds more like it,' said Hadlaug. 'You didn't see anyone killed. Do you think any of your friends might have killed them?'
Scarface seemed uncertain how to respond.
'You know how it goes,' said Loose-Ear. 'If someone resisted it could have gotten bad.'
'Yes,' said Hadlaug. 'I know how it goes. It's the cost of doing business. I understand that. To tell you the truth I never really cared for him, but he was my brother. I can't let that kind of thing go, can I? I understand you're just the weapons. The one I want is your employer.'
'Please don't do this,' said Scarface. 'My name's Aendi and I'm...'
'My brother's name was Gudrolf,' said Hadlaug. 'Would it have mattered?'
Scarface fumbled for an answer. He was on the verge of panic. He was weak, and could break. But Loose-Ear was more calculating, and seemed to have accepted their predicament. He'd be more likely to go for the quick death if Hadlaug played this right.
'We don't know who hired us,' said Scarface. 'We just went where we were told. The boss might have known...'
'No, he wouldn't,' said Loose-Ear, in a resigned tone. 'They were intermediaries. The one who dealt with our broker wouldn't have known who he worked for. He’s probably dead anyway, the way this is going.'
Hadlaug nodded. He'd expected as much, but had to try. He doubted the broker would be easy to find, if alive. That might be the next step if nothing came of the mercenaries. He'd at least kill as many of the responsible parties as he could find.
'That's all we know,' said Scarface. 'Honest.'
'Not enough,' said Hadlaug. He grabbed Scarface by the jaw and held his mouth shut as he carved down his throat and chest, taking it slow to extend the agony.
'They paid us in glyphs,' said Loose-Ear.
The knife stopped. Hadlaug waited for Scarface to move beyond screaming before releasing him and turning to Loose-Ear.
'Go on.'
'They're expensive glyphs, more than we could afford. Arkar said they were Alliance work. We got them direct, at reduced prices, so the client must be high enough in the Alliance to arrange it. That's all I know.'
Hadlaug considered it. The Alliance had run a few operations near the mountains, so someone there could have been in a position to learn of useful mines. If the arms had been discounted as much as they claimed – and Loose-Ear seemed sincere – it sounded reasonable.
The ones they'd just ambushed were Alliance. How were they involved? It couldn't be a coincidence.
This information might not get him far. He couldn't afford to go up against the Alliance alone. If he could find out the individual responsible he could deal with them, but this information offered little hope of that. Still, it made sense.
'Okay,' said Hadlaug. 'I believe you.'
Replacing the gags, he kept his word.