Way,” Mere said, her voice cold, her eyes still closed, her face still twisted up with effort. “Used to be an inn called the Squid. I can…see the layout.”
“I know it,” Nix said.
“Who is that?” the man said, trying to look over his shoulder. “Is that the bitch faytor?”
Merelda took another step toward the man. Blood flowed from both her nostrils.
The man shrieked, long and loud, and Nix hoped there were no Watch patrols on the street outside.
“There are many guards there, always. There are two levels under it, a chapel, training rooms, safe rooms, a torture chamber, cells. The sewers near Mandin’s Way and a guarded tunnel in the bank of the Meander give access to the lower levels.”
She took another step closer to the man, who now moaned and writhed on the ground, blood coming from his own nose. Merelda’s nosebleed worsened but she showed no sign of stopping.
Nix put a hand on her arm. “That’s enough.”
She whirled on him, projected,
He tried to kill us!
He winced at the anger in her mental voice. “I know. You’re hurting yourself, though. We have what we need. That’s enough. That’s enough.”
Egil took her by the arm. “It’s all right. You did good.”
She stared at them, blinking, her eyes welling with tears. She looked down at the man, who moaned and muttered in a puddle of snot and blood and spit.
“Fak him,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Aye, that,” Egil said softly, and led her to the cellar door. He closed it behind her and he and Nix shared a look. Nix nodded, went to the guildsman and pulled him up and around. Blood smeared his face below his nose.
“You don’t look half as amused as you did. Huh.”
The guildsman’s eyes twisted into a glare. “Fak you. You don’t know what you done here. Fak you.”
Nix sighed. “You’d think more people would fak me. I do have a certain charm. Alas, the world is unfair.”
The man spit snot and blood. “You keep on with this and it’s gonna get more unfair for you and yours real quick like. You hear? Now let me go.”
Nix looked over to Egil, eyebrows raised. “He’s an arrogant prick, isn’t he? Even bound and bleeding and after what just happened and he still can’t shut his hole. Is this what it’s like to talk to me?”
Egil shrugged and grunted, his hard eyes fixed on the guildsman.
Nix looked back at the guildsman. “Usually I’m on the other end of this, hands bound, bloody, wondering what’s going to happen next. I like this better.”
“You won’t for long,” the guildsman said.
“This really is no time to get all cocky, yeah? Makes me irritable. And I’m not even easily irritated. My friend there, though, the big priest, he
is
easily irritated. He looks downright irritable this very moment. Irked, even. So.” Nix considered, made up his mind, and stood. “He’s going to beat you now.”
The man’s eyes went to Egil’s hulking form, the priest’s ham fists, and his arrogance crumbled. “What’s that now?”
“Parts of you are gonna bleed,” Nix said. “Probably that nose again. Other parts will probably break. But unfair is the world, yeah? Woe and alack.”
“Wait, now. Wait,” the man said, struggling against his bonds as Egil stepped toward him. “That ain’t necessary, is it? We could—”
“Oh, but it is necessary,” Nix said, his voice the soft, cold sound of a blade slipping its scabbard. “And I’m going to tell you why—because you fakkin’
deserve
it for what you did, you slubber prick bunghole.”
“There’s no need for torture, now!”
Nix grabbed the man by his shirt and gave him a shake.
“This isn’t torture, slubber. We already know what we need to know. This is
punishment.
” He stepped aside to make room for Egil, then put his hands on his hips and glared contempt at the guildsman. “Make it hurt bad, Egil.”
“They’ll come for you! Both of you for this! And everyone else in this fakkin’ inn.”
“No, they
“I know it,” Nix said.
“Who is that?” the man said, trying to look over his shoulder. “Is that the bitch faytor?”
Merelda took another step toward the man. Blood flowed from both her nostrils.
The man shrieked, long and loud, and Nix hoped there were no Watch patrols on the street outside.
“There are many guards there, always. There are two levels under it, a chapel, training rooms, safe rooms, a torture chamber, cells. The sewers near Mandin’s Way and a guarded tunnel in the bank of the Meander give access to the lower levels.”
She took another step closer to the man, who now moaned and writhed on the ground, blood coming from his own nose. Merelda’s nosebleed worsened but she showed no sign of stopping.
Nix put a hand on her arm. “That’s enough.”
She whirled on him, projected,
He tried to kill us!
He winced at the anger in her mental voice. “I know. You’re hurting yourself, though. We have what we need. That’s enough. That’s enough.”
Egil took her by the arm. “It’s all right. You did good.”
She stared at them, blinking, her eyes welling with tears. She looked down at the man, who moaned and muttered in a puddle of snot and blood and spit.
“Fak him,” she said, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Aye, that,” Egil said softly, and led her to the cellar door. He closed it behind her and he and Nix shared a look. Nix nodded, went to the guildsman and pulled him up and around. Blood smeared his face below his nose.
“You don’t look half as amused as you did. Huh.”
The guildsman’s eyes twisted into a glare. “Fak you. You don’t know what you done here. Fak you.”
Nix sighed. “You’d think more people would fak me. I do have a certain charm. Alas, the world is unfair.”
The man spit snot and blood. “You keep on with this and it’s gonna get more unfair for you and yours real quick like. You hear? Now let me go.”
Nix looked over to Egil, eyebrows raised. “He’s an arrogant prick, isn’t he? Even bound and bleeding and after what just happened and he still can’t shut his hole. Is this what it’s like to talk to me?”
Egil shrugged and grunted, his hard eyes fixed on the guildsman.
Nix looked back at the guildsman. “Usually I’m on the other end of this, hands bound, bloody, wondering what’s going to happen next. I like this better.”
“You won’t for long,” the guildsman said.
“This really is no time to get all cocky, yeah? Makes me irritable. And I’m not even easily irritated. My friend there, though, the big priest, he
is
easily irritated. He looks downright irritable this very moment. Irked, even. So.” Nix considered, made up his mind, and stood. “He’s going to beat you now.”
The man’s eyes went to Egil’s hulking form, the priest’s ham fists, and his arrogance crumbled. “What’s that now?”
“Parts of you are gonna bleed,” Nix said. “Probably that nose again. Other parts will probably break. But unfair is the world, yeah? Woe and alack.”
“Wait, now. Wait,” the man said, struggling against his bonds as Egil stepped toward him. “That ain’t necessary, is it? We could—”
“Oh, but it is necessary,” Nix said, his voice the soft, cold sound of a blade slipping its scabbard. “And I’m going to tell you why—because you fakkin’
deserve
it for what you did, you slubber prick bunghole.”
“There’s no need for torture, now!”
Nix grabbed the man by his shirt and gave him a shake.
“This isn’t torture, slubber. We already know what we need to know. This is
punishment.
” He stepped aside to make room for Egil, then put his hands on his hips and glared contempt at the guildsman. “Make it hurt bad, Egil.”
“They’ll come for you! Both of you for this! And everyone else in this fakkin’ inn.”
“No, they
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