Shadows Over Kaighal

Chapter 3-1

3

Night was Mizena’s friend. Not only did it conceal her from prying eyes, but it also provided opportunities. Under the veil of darkness, all ne’er-do-wells of Kaighal conducted all sorts of shady activities, from smuggling to murder, and a spy who knew what kind of information traded well could earn a week’s or even a month’s worth of coin in just one evening. And Mizena needed coin. Giving up spying for the archmage, or rather for the people he employed to deal with spies, meant giving up the generous payments he offered for knowledge hidden in the city’s dark alleys. She had enough to get by, but none of her other patrons could match the archmage.

Mizena chewed on a piece of a dried meat as she waited near one of Gildya’s lesser-known stockpiles. Some gossip she’d picked up in passing suggested that it was worth a closer look, but after almost an entire night spent in an uncomfortable position, squatting between barrels and crates by a merchant’s store, she still had nothing. It seemed her famed luck that allowed her to always get the best information before anyone else was waning.

The night was already receding, giving way to the first sun’s rays, and even if the bowels of Kaighal still remained awash in shadows and darkness, the closer to morning, the more passersby. No one in their right mind would do any underhanded business so close to daylight.

Careful not to cause any noise, Mizena stretched her body limb by limb. Perhaps she’d try again the next evening.

A muffled rumble in the street adjacent to the stockpile put her on alert. Her clothes were a bit too good to be those of a beggar, so if someone saw her hiding spot, questions would follow, and Mizena liked questions as little as she liked any other trouble. Time to go.

She remained in her spot when a hushed but heated conversation reached her. An argument among workers wasn’t anything unusual, but no one in the middle of a disagreement would bother to keep quiet… unless they had something to hide.

Mizena peeked out.

Two men stopped a small hand-drawn cart by the stockpile’s side door. Slight jitters in their behavior made it clear they weren’t Gildya’s workers. They were still arguing, and the few words she caught suggested it was about a delay caused by one of them. The angrier one knocked on the door, and it opened immediately.

Mizena couldn’t quite make out the face of the man who appeared, but his voice left no doubt about his emotions.

“’Ere now, what took s’long?” he asked the others with clear ire. “Waited all night, and on the double they almost found me!” He waved his hand when another one started to speak. “Never mind! I ain’t wantin’ to hear it. Get the goods, and get to movin’.”

One of the two rushed inside, while the other kept a worried eye out. Mizena huffed, displeased at the sight of the man’s weariness that would only alert him to someone who approached openly, if even that much. These men were not skilled… Likely hired thugs, the cheap kind, and that could mean that whoever had planned the theft wanted to remain unknown. Her curiosity surged. It seemed that her luck had not run out after all.

The crates they carried were small but heavy, judging from the huffs and strained walk. Other than that, nothing betrayed their contents. She’d have to follow the men to wherever they intended to bring the stolen goods, and doing so at the break of day would be difficult. Shadows would already be receding, and there wouldn’t be enough people to blend in with the crowd. Yet, if she wanted to learn more—to learn something that would bring coin—she had no choice.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” a woman called out.

Mizena flinched, but a glance around reassured her that she wasn’t the one drawing attention.

The three men by the stockpile tensed as a pair of city guards, a man and a woman, approached. Their lantern swayed to the rhythm of their steps, sweeping shadows to and fro, even though the sky above was already brightening.

If the thieves could come up with even a moderately convincing story, they had a decent chance of getting away, especially since Gildya didn’t like the city guards meddling in their affairs. Even on the spot, Mizena could come up with several excuses, including that they weren’t taking out Gildya’s possessions, but delivering the goods. As the guard asked them what they were doing, Mizena strained to hear the response. Good lies could always be reused, and she could also learn something useful from their explanation, if they mentioned the person who’d hired them.

She definitely didn’t expect one of the men to lunge at the guard. Before anyone reacted, he dug a knife deep into the guard’s chest.

The female guard dropped the lantern. “Over here!” she shouted, as she used the butt of her sword to knock the attacker down.

In the distance, more voices rose as the nearby guards responded to the woman’s call.

One of the two remaining men forced the crate open and fished an item out of it. Mizena caught the glow of an imbued stone on it as he threw it at the remaining guard. Then a fiery explosion lit up the night, consuming the guard, her dead companion, and the unconscious thief. Her scream, if there even was one amongst the roaring of flames, died quickly.

The men didn’t wait for the fire to burn out. They took off. One of them passed by Mizena’s hiding place, and she got a clear glimpse of his face. Cranwy?! What is that fool doing here? Without hesitation, she jumped out and dashed after him. Behind her, at a distance too close for comfort, guards called out to each other.

Cranwy ran through the narrow alleys, knocking down anything in his way and jumping over piles of garbage. He was a burly man, and not trained at all, so Mizena had no trouble following him, but at the same time, it meant that neither would the guards. He was smart enough to take turns rather than running along the same alley, but his chaotic route suggested no specific destination. If he kept at it, he could well run straight into another group of guards.

“Stop!” a man called out behind her.

Mizena cursed. The last thing she needed was for the guards to think she was involved in the theft. But to stop following Cranwy meant no information, and therefore no coin. She had to take the risk.

She sped up to catch up with him, but in a narrow alley filled with obstacles to avoid, it was hard to get beside Cranwy or in front of him.

“Cranwy! It’s me! Mizena!” she called out in a hushed voice.

As he slowed down and turned, looking over his shoulder, she made it past him, tugging on his sleeve. “This way!”

If he stood his ground, she’d never be able to pull him along, but her promise made him follow without hesitation.

He could barely keep her pace, his broad chest heaving more and more the longer they went.

A woman guard stepped into the alley right in front of them. Mizena dove to the side to make it past him, all too late considering that she wasn’t alone this time. Cranwy rammed into the guard, knocking her down. As soon as she was out of the way, he started running again.

Mizena knew this part of Kaighal well, but with more and more guards closing in, likely drawn to the explosion she’d witnessed, the usually friendly alleys were beginning to feel too much like a maze without a way out. Cranwy was already struggling for breath, so he wouldn’t be able to run much farther anyway.

With no other choice, she led him down another alley, straight to a safe hiding place she’d used several times in the past. To share it with someone else grated on her nature, but it seemed a better way than getting herself caught along with Cranwy.

The small shed, nestled between two buildings, looked as abandoned as the last time Mizena saw it, and without hesitation, she opened the door. Cranwy made his way inside without an invitation, and she followed. In what seemed only a moment later, the heavy boots hit the cobblestones outside. The guards didn’t stop to inspect the shack, and soon the sound of their footsteps and voices faded.

Mizena leaned against the wall, and Cranwy relaxed too. It would be a while before the guards stopped searching for the thieves, so they both remained silent.

The sun was already up when Mizena finally gave Cranwy a sign and they left the shack. From a distance, merchants were already calling out their wares and prices, and a low murmur of conversations carried through the streets.

“I owe you for saving my skin,” Cranwy said.

Mizena nodded. Such a debt was a given, but she appreciated when others acknowledged her efforts, no matter what they were. “What were you doing there, anyway?” she asked, taking the opening. “I didn’t take you for someone who’d get mixed in thievery and murder.”

Cranwy was one of the lowlifes haunting the port district. Burly and strong, he made his coin as a carrier for the ship captains and local merchants. On occasion, he’d intimidate other lowlifes when they owed money to someone willing to pay to get it back. Such a heist, even if a simplistic one, was not Cranwy’s regular work.

“Lacca needed a someone to carry crates, and the pay was good.” Cranwy shrugged. “We were to pick up the goods and bring them to a place Lacca knew about. Said some Gildya woman wanted it moved, that’s all. He said no word of thieving Gildya’s stock and killing. I don’t know who the third man was.”

“You should probably get back to the port district,” Mizena replied, though her mind wasn’t on Cranwy’s wellbeing, especially that he hardly had any useful information. “A Gildya woman” was too little to go on, and there were countless reasons why some adept was stealing from her fellow inventors. Though—Mizena’s stomach twisted when she thought of it—these weren’t some valuable resources. The woman wanted devices that could kill a lot of people, judging by the size of the crates.

They walked onto one of the main streets, mixing with the early-morning crowd. People were already buying goods, selling them, or rushing to other parts of Kaighal, and two more passersby drew no attention.

“I’ll see you there?” Cranwy asked.

“I’ll be around,” she replied absent-mindedly. They were never friends, so she cared little for him or his debt. If she ever needed a favor, she’d seek him out, but until then, Cranwy could just disappear.

As they parted, Mizena checked her surroundings out of habit. After a night of keeping watch and an unexpected chase, her body was demanding some rest, but if a good opportunity waited around a corner, rest could wait a little longer.

Someone shouted in the distance, pointing at the sky, and Mizena looked up. A dark, winged silhouette was gliding above the city.

“A demon!” someone shouted.

A woman screamed, and a few people turned and ran, knocking down a merchant’s basket or two. Others—Mizena among them—were watching, some with curiosity, some with concern. The creature, no matter how fearsome it looked with its black wings and what must be massive claws, seemed uninterested in the people below. Instead, it headed straight for the High Towers.

Mizena couldn’t help the nagging feeling this had something to do with the odd duo she used to spy on, the demonologist and her tribal companion, and a shiver ran down her spine when she realized her own actions might have become part of that plot.

The demon landed on the hill, looking around with caution and curiosity, and for a glimpse Mizena considered that it might be the high mages’ guest. Then, in a rush of magic, a barrier rose around the High Towers, sealing them from the city and making it clear archmages did not consider the creature friendly.

Mizena swallowed, starting to make her way down the street, away from the Towers. She could only hope that any battle that followed would not reach the rest of Kaighal.