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Chapter 31. Collateral |
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he four of them had gone but a few blocks when the familiar forms of Mog’s assailants reappeared. There were more of them this time and Mog realized he had not lost them after all, only led them to his friends. A mixture of fury and shame broiled inside of him. How could he have been so stupid? Lemony pressed against him, her body quaking as she counted the dark clad figures. Keisha loosed her blades and clutched them, her knuckles white. Morisedd stood behind them, weak with hunger and impotent. There were seven of them in the alley ahead and five more in the ramshackle gap between a pair of aging tenements. Glancing behind them he saw six more advancing. Keisha swore an oath and Mog turned to follow her gaze, knowing by the tingling of his spine Marga Charu had arrived. Her teeth flashed in the dimness of the alley as her wine red lips formed an expression that could only be called smug. She had them all in one place, outnumbered and trapped. One of them might be able to make a break for it, but he doubted all of them could escape. “My Dear, is that any way to greet your teacher?” Marga simpered, raising a red gloved hand, “Put those away before someone is hurt.” Keisha made a low growling sound but obediently sheathed her daggers. Despite that, her lithe frame was alert and ready to strike. Her dark eyes narrowed with rage. “Your mesmer friend has made me quite cross,” Marga continued, her gaze flicking toward Mog, then falling upon Keisha once more, “Word gets around when people are slain in the line of duty and good help is hard enough to find.” “If anyone lays a finger on me or my friends, I’ll add to the death count,” Keisha snapped. “Bold words for such a little girl,” Marga scoffed, “Fortunately, I know you are smarter than that and you’ll weigh the odds and come peacefully. I have little use for you dead. I may even let your friend live.” Mog’s gut clenched for he sensed the malice emanating from the woman and her hirelings. They were drawing closer step by step. Their overwhelming numbers left little doubt over the outcome. Even if Mog managed to injure a few, there was also Marga to contend with. By now she would have guessed that he was ill-equipped to duel her due to the manner in which he had slain her lackey. His hand rested protectively over Lemony’s shoulder and she clutched it now, as afraid for him as she was for herself. “Your word means nothing,” Keisha said, “You lied to Master Togo when you took the vows of a teacher at the monastery. You used your students and succeeded in getting two of them killed for your own selfish ends. Why should I believe you would let us live? Why not take my chances and kill as many of you as I am able?” “Because I need your help, Keisha Lhan,” Marga replied bitterly, “I have seen which way the wind blows. Think you I have any desire to face judgment for my crimes without some good deeds to balance against them? We have a mutual foe in the Ministry of Air, but only you have been behind the gates of the imperial sanctum. Does slaying Master Tan have no appeal?” Keisha hesitated, clearly taken aback by Marga’s words. For a long time the two women merely stared at one another. “I want him dead,” Keisha replied at last, her voice harsh with anger, “But I want you to let my friends go.” “I’ll let one of them go,” Marga replied, “I must have collateral. I doubt I need to spell out what will happen if you betray me.” “There is no need to use hostages to ensure my compliance,” Keisha protested, “Destroying Master Tan would be motivation and reward enough for me. Endangering my friends would only create a distraction.” “Trust runs both ways,” Marga laughed, “You scorned my offers to mentor and employ you and gave yourself to a corrupt bureaucracy. I ask you a final time to come with me peacefully or against your will. Which will it be?” Keisha glanced at Mog and Lemony apologetically, her pretty face pale and forlorn. They were so close to the city center, one of them might make it there if they were able to break free. “I want yeh t’ run, Lemmy,” he whispered as he lowered his face to kiss her velvety scalp, “Me an’ Keisha will hold them off.” “No,” the little monk replied, nearly sobbing, “They’ll kill you for sure if you resist. I can’t bear that, Mog. Let them take us.” “You should listen to her,” Marga said, turning again to speak to Keisha, “That dirty wreckage of a man that is following you is free to leave. The other two will kneel and place their palms flat on the cobbles to show they surrender.” A knot of dread clenched Mog’s throat as Lemony obediently lowered herself to the ground and waited with bowed head. Marga’s eyes bored into him like pokers, her malice palpable as he remained standing. “Mog, please,” Lemony whispered. Swallowing, he clambered awkwardly to his knees beside the little monk. Within moments Marga’s thugs converged on them and it was all he could do to remain still as they grasped his shoulders and drew his hands behind his back. The burn of cord was on his wrists and a surge of panic twisted through him as a cloth was drawn over his eyes. He felt Lemony’s fear as if it were his own. Losing sight of her was almost more than he could bear. Instinctively he struggled to his feet only to collapse in agony as he was slugged in the solar plexus. Winded, he dropped to his knees, gasping and moaning in pain. “Mog!” Lemony shrieked, “What did you do to him? Let me go, let me help him!” He could hear her fighting uselessly to break free and he feared they would employ similar tactics on her. He struggled through his misery to answer her. “I’m alright,” he wheezed. He had studied combat enough to know it was a fairly harmless if painful means of disabling a foe. If they had meant to kill him, they would not have stopped at winding him. It was the surest sign yet that they wanted him alive. “Don’t hurt him,” Lemony pleaded now, clearly in tears and unable to see how he fared. Her fear only amplified what he was already feeling. “Lemmy, don’ cry, Darlin’, ‘m alright,” he soothed and she sobbed once in response before regaining control of herself. His handlers nudged him to his feet and he staggered once, curling over instinctively to ward his vulnerable belly. His first blind steps were shaky and shuffling, but there was someone at each elbow ready to right him and prevent him from falling. “Please don’ hurt her,” he said to them though he knew it was futile making such a plea. They were all at the mercy of Marga Charu now. |
