Page 14 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
All kinds of visiting dignitaries and lords arrived, wanting to be part of the upcoming event, which meant juicy gossip for the shopkeepers with the right wares to lure the nobles in. Eyeing the selection in the store I fake-managed, I grimaced. Definitely nothing that might entice any visiting hordes from the west, or aristocratic snobs from the empire.
“I’m going out for a bit to see if I can locate some interesting pieces to sell in the shop,” I said.
“I take it you found the Canal Market?”
“You know about the underground?”
He rolled his eyes in reply.
“You could have told me about it,” I accused.
“Didn’t expect it to take you so long to find out.”
Good point. I should have done a little more reconnoitering rather than sulking behind the counter in the store. Apparently I’d been too mopey to realize Jrijori had provided us a great advantage, with our central location serving the upper echelon who liked to spend money and wag their tongues.
The streets leading to the nearest station were clean and wide. The middle of the city was well maintained. The locked gate over the stairs going down to the underground river only served as a precaution, as it didn’t actually stop anyone. I descended two levels to a large open area referred to as the platform. More than thirty paces wide and at least twice as long, it was bordered on the far edge by a canal of water. Braziers set within the walls provided flickering illumination, enough to see a few stalls set up along with some tents serving as homes. At the edge of the platform, a few flat-bottomed boats bobbed, their helmsmen clutching long poles. It cost only a coin to jump in and have the skiff maneuver the various twists and turns to the Canal Market. Only one ominous swell made me wonder if the rumors of monsters down here were true.
The Nineteenth Station was busy, with the docks jostling with boats, people trying to get on and off. Lots of them were tourists here for the special occasion, their eyes wide with wonder. Most would return to their homes or the inns they were staying at with lighter pockets and less jewelry. If they returned at all. Then again, killing tourists was bad for business.
I hopped out of the boat with the other passengers, being sure to stay away from the edge. The murky water worried me more than the press of bodies. I shoved my way forward, using subtle and not-so-subtle nudges and jabs to navigate the dock until it widened into a platform. A few times the size of the one I’d left one, this massive underground dome had canals that branched off in several directions. A nexus point, I’d been told.
I passed the board of tasks and the corpulent attendant. Farther on, I ignored a cook and his strange skewers of meat, which he bragged he’d caught in those dirty waters. It took a bravery I didn’t have to want to eat anything from there.
My feet led me to the curio tent rather than the arms dealer with his subpar wares. For what I planned, I required something out of the ordinary.
The curio tent proved light inside. The flameless orbs suspended from the tent peaks illuminated the contents. So much stuff piled on top of each other in stacks, some quite precarious. Much of it was junk, but treasures hid for the savvy browser.
A few days ago, a strange tug in my gut had led me to a small dagger with a chunk of elekium set uselessly in the hilt. That sold for a pretty sum. The tug had returned, and this time it yanked me through the towering stacks to a spot across from a dark corner where a tower of dishes and random carvings balanced impossibly. I dropped to a knee and eyed the crusted hilt sticking out from the bottom of the pile.
As I reached for it, a male timbre interrupted. “I wouldn’t pull that.”
I paused and glanced over my shoulder to see a large man, very wide and tall, fine looking with his hair and beard trimmed tight on a rugged face. Square shoulders stretched the dark linen of his plain shirt, and leather breeches molded thick thighs. A sword rested by his hip. A mercenary most likely, which meant I knew his type. All brawn, no brains, who liked to think women were nothing but a hole to stick their dicks in.
“It will be fine.”
He eyed the stack. “It will fall.”
“Not if I pull it fast enough.” I was rather confidant. A sword had a thin blade. It would barely shift the pile when yanked free.
“Said every man who ever got a woman pregnant.”
My mouth rounded. I almost laughed because it was damned funny. “Can you go be annoying somewhere else? I’m trying to do something.”
“Go ahead. This should be entertaining.” Amusement colored the handsome giant’s words.
It led to me being ornery because he might have a point. The stack could very well fall. If it did, I’d just make sure I wasn’t under it.
I gripped the hilt of the grungy sword tightly. The tingle let me know this was an elekium weapon, the only ones to ever give me a jolt. When I asked Jrijori about it, he claimed that only a rare few felt it. Given the rarity, I wanted this weapon. I just had to be quick.
I blew out a breath, and then as I sucked in, I pulled.
Nothing happened. Not even a fraction of the blade moved.
“Maybe fate is trying to tell you something,” muttered the annoying giant.
“I just need a better angle,” I grumbled. I shifted my grip. Breath in. Breath out.
Yank.