Page 19 of Poison Nights & Twilight Alchemy

“Ruttish, plume-plucked, measly wagtail puttocks,” Reed muttered.

A beam cracked like a sinking ship’s wails overhead and tumbled to the cell floor with a crash, igniting the straw along it. Reed lifted the cup next to the water spigot and banged the metal against the bars.

“Fire!” he yelled. “Somebody, help! Even Gallows’ prisoners have the right to humane execution! You paunchy bunch of full-gorged ratsbane maggots!Fire!”

The roof fell in at an alarming rate now, smoke descending like fog, choking him, the cell a fountain of sparks and flame as beams continued to rain down.

Reed soaked his scarf in water and wrapped the sodden wool around his face, protected from the worst of it by the time the guards’ lumbering steps pounded onthe stairs, one holding the keys to his cell. Hiding under the cover of smoke, he waited for the lock to disengage, and, when the man slid the bars back, Reed hurled himself forward and smashed the metal cup into the guard’s face. Snatching the keys from his limp fingers, Reed spun to elbow the second guard in the throat as the sound of fire bells rang outside the gaping roof.

Surprised by his attack, the first guard held his broken nose and stumbled forward into the cell, a falling beam narrowly missing his head. Reed kicked his choking companion forward to join him, pulling the bars back into place and locking the cell once again.

“Oye!” the first guard screamed in rage. “You won’t get away with this, you roguish lout! I’ll have your head, you graverobbing scum! There’s nowhere you can hide, do you hear me?Nowhere!”

Reed did hear him of course, but he paid no attention, focused instead on the metal box in front of him.One problem at a time, he told himself.Get free of the Pikeman’s debt, then get free of the law.

“You’ll hang before the next sunset, that’s a promise!”

That was quite the threat when Reed was no longer the one locked behind bars.

The other guard regained the use of his voice, and croaked, “Where’s the second maggot trash gone off to?”

“Maybe he burned,” Broken Nose offered.

“Nah, the smell isn’t right.”

Reed ignored them and at last managed to get the box open, prying apart its hinges with an iron crowbar left in plain sight beneath a window next to a broom. Inside, he found a red velvet pouch, the Duke’s own crest embroidered across it in golden thread. Untangling itsdelicate cord, Reed discovered a treasure that was quite something to behold.

Every conceivable coin in the land—presumably confiscated by corrupt enforcers from drunks and gamblers—as well as jeweled knives, silver spoons, and even a golden engraved baby rattle. Dulce’s pearls and ring stood out amongst the rest, their luster far exceeding the worn rabble surrounding them.

The harsh crackle of flames signaled he needed to leave soon.

Reed stood, letting the box fall shut. Scanning the room, he discovered what he wanted immediately. The paperwork-conscious enforcer had left his hat and coat in his haste to raise the alarm. Reed spared a few seconds to trade his cloak for these, hoping their oversized dimensions would go unnoticed as he tucked his white hair beneath the cap.

He was running out of time to meet the Pikeman.

Tying the velvet sack and stuffing it securely beneath his jacket, Reed pocketed the ring. He couldn’t say why, exactly, since he didn’t mean to ever sell it. Perhaps it was because Dulce had mentioned how her beloved mother had left it to her upon her death. Maybe even then the idea of seeing the heiress once more was forming in some shadowy part of his mind.

Slipping into the alleyway behind the jail, Reed walked at a leisurely pace until he reached the guard stables. The animals were alone, seemingly every groom and stable boy having run off to help put out the fire, and only one mangy dog announced Reed’s presence.

Not bothering with a saddle, Reed placed a simple bridle over the nearest horse—a bay gelding—and led thecreature out through the hay delivery doors.

Not a soul noticed him.

Two blocks from the jailhouse, Reed mounted the horse from the crumbling steps of a cloth merchant’s shop and raced into town, praying the Pikeman still waited at the inn.

He did, much to Reed’s relief. Being in the Pikeman’s debt was a fate almost worse than death, if one believed the gossip. Something Reed was inclined to do, after everything he’d just witnessed.

“I told you he’d come.” The Pikeman laughed, his hand out for payment to three of his men. They grumbled, their faces hidden in the shadows of their dark cloaks, as they paid the bet they’d lost against Reed’s escape. Reed grinned at them as he dismounted, the velvet sack swinging cheerfully while he sauntered toward the Pikeman.

Reed was a wanted man now, but that didn’t mean they should feel any kind of sympathy for him. Sympathy meant weakness, and weakness would only get one killed in the company of animals such as these.

The Pikeman stood before a nondescript trader’s carriage, two plain and scarred horses, perfectly ready to disappear back into the Glen, where no man, woman, or child would ever dare to give up his location.

Reed threw the sack of treasure to him, and the pawnbroker caught it neatly. Looking inside, his eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

“Good boy,” he said. “Our business is concluded.”

Reed bowed his head a fraction. The Pikeman had gotten at least three times the coin he’d given Reed—of course the weedy-snouted bastard was satisfied.

---