Free Mountain of Daggers by Seth Skorkowsky Page A

turned to leave the alley, slowly strolling like a gentleman should.
    Tomorrow, he would tell Viveka that it was done. She had told him to report back immediately. And as much as he would love to pay a late night visit, he had more pressing business. Tonight, he would sleep well for the first time in days. Tomorrow, he would collect his reward.
     

Race for the Night Ruby
     
    “You have the hands of a sailor,” the whore whispered as Ahren took the glass from her. She ran her long fingers along his. “Yet delicate.” She released his hand and gazed up at him with vivid green eyes, the only part of her face not hidden by a red silk veil.
    Ahren couldn’t help but smile at the whore’s advances. Fortunately, she couldn’t see her small victory through the gray veil concealing his nose and mouth. The Nadjancian fashion did more than just protect the wearer from the stench of the watery streets, it gave anonymity. Something a wanted man, like Ahren, could always use.
    She dropped a nugget of incense into the brazier, adding to the thin sweet haze filling the room. “We could be good together.” She leaned closer with the catlike grace of a courtesan, pressing her bare breasts against him. “Magical.”
    A short weasel of a man stepped through the curtains, followed by a pair of whores. The youth of their eyes, and small pomegranate breasts, suggested they were no more than fifteen. Tiny golden bells jingled from their thin veils.
    “Ah, Black Raven,” Mashkov said, flopping onto a cushioned chair. “I am glad to meet you.”
    “That name, as is our business, is private,” Ahren said.
    Mashkov scanned the small chamber. “We are alone.”
    Ahren nodded to the girls doting over their master.
    “Ah.” His eyes gleamed with amused understanding. “Leave us!” Silently, the women stood and slipped through the heavy velvet drapes to the hall.
    Ahren surveyed his surroundings. The carved walls, adorned in thick red curtains, left dozens of crevices for a spy hole. He didn’t like it.
    Mashkov poured himself a glass of vodka. “I see you have met Karolina.” He motioned to the doorway. “You like her? You can have her every night during your stay.” He knocked back the glass and set it on the small table between them.
    He was stalling. Ahren could smell it. In his two years since joining the Tyenee he had met many of its reputable members; killers, extortionists, smugglers. Yet Mashkov, the ruler of Nadjancia’s brothels, was one of the most famous. So far, Ahren had yet to be impressed.
    “And how long is my stay?” he asked, removing his gray veil and sipping his drink.
    “Straight to the point. They warned me about that,” Mashkov chuckled. “Not long. Have you ever heard of a dubrald?”
    Ahren nodded. “A night ruby. A magic gem that makes the user invisible. The dream of every thief. I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever heard of actually possessing, or even seeing, one.”
    “Baron Rusukny.” He refilled his and Ahren’s glasses. “Rumor has spread that the baron, through luck and fortune, has somehow acquired a night ruby.” He unrolled a map on the table between them. The artist’s crude drawings didn’t take away from the floor plan’s massive size. “He keeps it here, in his house.” Mashkov pointed a ringed finger to a small room on the fourth floor. “It’s well protected. The baron’s longtime feud with the Grevenik Family has made his home a veritable fortress, complete with armed guards.”
    Ahren leaned closer, running his finger across the inked parchment hallways. A circled X marked where guards were often posted. The city’s canal streets bordered two sides of the house, meeting at the northwest corner. The same corner which held the room he needed to enter. “It’ll take me three weeks.”
    “You have one week.”
    Ahren’s brow rose.
    “Word of an artifact such as this has drawn a lot of attention.” He leaned back in his chair stroking his thin moustache. “My