King of the Seditious

Blue Lark Guild, Dread Country

SAVAGE JAXSON

It’d been two days of utter silence since they returned to the Blue Lark.

She won’t speak to me.

Savage had, had it. I’m done with this silence. I’d prefer her ranting.

Last night, Dimurah had served him at the counter in Winter Haven.

He’d thought perhaps it would force some words from her. Force her to speak something to me.

But she’d said nothing.

Not a word.

Won’t look at me. Won’t talk to me.

He’d left quietly and waited until she was closing up. Returning to see if she’d offer some late-night conversation as she often had in the past.

The Nauvree came and sat next to him. Despite that the barmaids were securing the shutters and turning the inside lock. He knew he and RedBayne were welcome here after closing.

Both Savage and Dimurah had encouraged them to do so as it kept the others from trying to linger in the hopes of catching her alone.

“Hoping for some of her Sleep Duster?” Nauvree turned a cup on the wood table.

The dreadful tea she occasionally made for her favorites. His mouth dried at the thought of the flavor. He knew she gave it to them to help them sleep off the taint of drink, or their recent crimes. Something the others often appreciated after having.

“Does anyone really hope for it?” Savage asked dryly.

“I do.”

Savage sighed.

“Less the tea and more the conversation.” Savage admitted.

He’d hoped to perhaps sit and have a reasonable talk with her. To discuss what’d happened.

But he wasn’t willing to divulge that much to Nauvree. No one is that close to me.

No one but her…

“She said you killed her bodyguards…and the barmaid?” The Nauvree asked tentatively.

Savage was uncertain why he was even asking. He knew the Nauvree was well aware he’d killed Dimurah’s bodyguards before when he’d found that several of them worked for Radix.

Though it was unlikely The Nauvree knew that was why I did it.

Seeing he wouldn’t answer, Nauvree persisted on the course. “So, what were you hoping for?”

To offer her some form of explanation. Though he had no idea what to say yet.

But the opportunity had not arisen anyway.

She’d refused to acknowledge my presence, entirely.

He’d never felt lonely sitting at her counter. Until now.

He respected her wish for silence until tonight. When he could take it no longer. Despite the din of voices and the thunk of tankards he whispered to her over the counter.

“Murah, are you going to talk to me?”

“No.”

“What will it take?”

I’ll offer anything. He just wanted to hear her voice. Or see her face brighten as she looked at him.

“I don’t want your weight hanging over the Haven anymore.” She scrubbed a bit of spilled ale.

My weight? My influence she means.

“What would you have of me?”

“Tell them you no longer rule here.” She jutted her chin toward the assassins filling the booths.

Steering clear of the tension here at the counter. He knew.

He shifted, drawing a long breath through his nose. His dissension was obvious in the way his eyes trailed her. And the pointed way she’s ignoring it.

“You want me to lift my protection from Winter Haven?”

“Yes,” She gave him a dark look. “Your protection…”

He knew his breathing quickened. Could feel the racing of his heart. But a furtive look around the alehouse revealed no one saw.

The thought of removing his protection over the alehouse was disconcerting. It’s a bad idea.

Dangerous…

Seeing he’d nothing further to say on the subject she turned and served someone else.

Dismissing me. Savage gathered his tankard and went to an empty booth. Taking his time nursing it thoughtfully.

REDBAYNE

Tsking drew her attention to the other end of the counter. She saw the wide shoulders of RedBayne sitting there.

“What?” She groaned. Rolling her eyes slightly.

She sees my disapproval.

Good. I wasn’t hiding it.

“Careful what ye ask for.” He cautioned.

“I know what I ask for.”

No, you don’t.

“Do ye?” RedBayne straightened. He sighed. “Ye, Little Dear, are a wee juicy lamb.”

To put it mildly.

“And that,” He pointed to Savage Jack hunkered over his drink in the dimly lit booth. “Is the vicious alpha wolf that stands atween ye and them.” He pointed to where a cluster of unkempt assassins cast her longing looks. “The pack of mangy wolves.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice.”

I care not a whit if you wish to hear it.

“Ye get it nonetheless.” He gestured broadly. “A gift fer me wee friend, the Barter Queen.” He sobered and leaned back on the counter to whisper to her conspiratorially. “Careful askin’ ’im ta move.”

“I want him out of the way! Out of Winter Haven. I can do it on my own!” She ferociously wiped out a tankard.

No, you can’t.

You put yourself in danger, Little One. But you’ll not hear it from me. He realized.

“Jus’ be cautious because this place is held together delicately.” RedBayne rose from the counter. Finishing his tankard. “Ye ask him ta stop standin’ atween ye and them. When ye decide, in yer own good time, ye want him ta move back again, it may be too late. If he gets dethroned trying, ye might find yer place here far less comfortable under the regime of a new King of Assassins.”

“That’s impossible. No one would turn against him like that.”

“Mistake yerself not,” RedBayne lifted a finger. “Any of these men would love a fighting chance to take over the Blue Lark.”

“He built it!” She objected.

And you want to take it from him.

Why he lets you is beyond me. He defers to no one else in the world.

“I know that. And ye know that…But they dunnot care.” He gestured around. “And his kingdom isn’t the only thing they’d like a shot at.” He gave her a pointed look.

“They wouldn’t…”

They absolutely would! Don’t play naïve.

“They would. And they will. Yer a bit of woman they haven’t tasted here…The forbidden fruit…”