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Chapter 18

Gwen followed the sounds of drunken laughter to the North Hall suite. She passed more and more guards on the way. A bunch of nameless faces that leered openly at her.

Gwen shuddered, and pulled herself closer in. The looks on their faces reminded her of the men who would pass by Beggar’s Reprieve late at night. Looking for a friend, or better yet, just a companion for the night. They’d always leave with a girl, or a boy depending on their tastes.

Indearie never went. She questioned why everyone who did willingly went down that road. They knew that the men who came to the Reprieve were terrible, hurtful creatures. That all they wanted was a warm body, and the freedom to do whatever their twisted fantasies conjured up. Many came back bruised, weeping, and far more broken than when they had left. All for a few coins that would be gone before morning.

Why do it? Why subjugate yourself to this? They could be trying other things, safer things. Like begging, or running messages. Gods, even thievery seemed more dignified to most. Indearie could never get it.

But Gwen could. Gwen always understood what made the girls get up and walk away again. They endured the beatings, and the humiliation, and risk of death, for two reasons. Reason one was survival. At the end of the day, it was a business transaction. And no matter how small the reward was, in Beggar’s Reprieve it was enough to help get through the day.

That was the first reason. The second one was harder, more painful to admit. It was the simple feeling of being wanted.

No one who lived in Beggar’s Reprieve was wanted. They were pests, vermin. Plagues upon civilized society that were better off drowned and then set ablaze to fumigate the city. Anyone who lived there, deserved to die in that filthy street, alone.

But for just one night, that changed. For one brief shining instant, someone else wanted them. Wanted their lips, their breath upon the face. Wanted to clasp their arms around their back and say sweet nothings in the ear. They wanted you so much that they were willing to pay you for it. They paid you to be in your company. What more could you want?

The need to be wanted ruined many. Gwen understood that they were stupid in that instant. Vain, and self-conscious.

She also knew she was doing the same thing, walking into the suite to speak with Maladie.

More guards, there were always more guards. They were all drunk, laughing as they joined together in a raucous song about lads and lasses dancing around a fire. Beer and other liquors sloshed around the table, staining the chairs.

Gwen winced. She could feel the staff’s eyes on the room. The filth, the mess, it was not what they had signed onto the mortal coil for. But none of them moved into the room. They were far too professional to disturb their guests.

The songs got louder, and more graphic. Gwen wanted to retch, and contented herself with turning on way and then another to keep herself focused. Just take everything in. Don’t think too much about what was being talked about. Don’t even listen to the words.

“Gwen…”

That word she had to respond to. Gwen turned, and looked to the main table.

Maladie peered up from the head of the table. Seated on a velvet throne, he held a bottle of wine in one hand, and a fine pipe in the other. He took a long swig from the bottle, and then puffed on the weed in the pipe.

He hiccuped, and blew smoke into the air. “Please, join us.”

Gwen shook her head. “I, I was hoping to speak with you, baron.”

“Of course,” Maladie slurred. “Come, pull up a chair next to me. We’ll talk for as long as we desire.”

Gwen reddened, and moved closer. She could hear the sounds of music slowly die down. The soldiers looked at her, and then turned away. They stood far enough away for the two to be alone.

Maladie rolled over the side of the arm rest, and smiled. “What can I do for you, my lovely?”

Gwen gulped. “Actually, I was wondering if I could do something for you.”

“Oh?”

There was a loud snort.

“And what would that be?”

“Yeah, baron!” Someone yelled. “Get that girl!”

Maladie frowned, and turned to the soldiers. One gave a small whoop, and the others quickly dragged him away.

“Sorry,” he said. “They get overexcited sometimes.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t drink so much, then,” Gwen muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Maladie hemmed, and took another puff. “So what do you want?”

“I want to help you with dealing with Deveren.”

The baron laughed. “You? The magicless brat? What could you do?”

Magicless? So everyone knew about her. Still, she had to press on, keep making herself useful. “I, I’m a good researcher. A hard worker, I can run any number of errands.”

“That’s what I have men for, girl,” Maladie said.

“Come on, please,” Gwen said. “I need to find some way to help the duke.”

“I’m sorry, but we are handling this well enough without you.”

“You’re just sitting around the house eating up all our food!” Gwen shouted. She gasped, and clamped her hand over her mouth. Damn it, why did she always have to do that?

Maladie stood up, and almost fell over. “Sitting around?” he asked. “Sitting around! Do you have any idea what I can do for this pathetic duchy?”

He turned, and threw the bottle at the wall. It shattered, scattering glass and drink on the floor.

Maladie barked out a command, and snapped his fingers. There was a loud pop, and another bottle was in his grasp again. He uncorked the bottle with his mouth, and grinned.

“I can summon anything or anyone I want here,” he boasted. “Nobody can handle a house like me.”

Maladie took a long swig, and glared at the girl. “So tell me again, why I need a stupid, useless, little speck of a girl like you?”

Gwen’s mind raced. Focus, try and figure it out. What could she do that a spatial magic user couldn’t? not much. He could summon up arms, or more guards. Heck, more spellcasters, anything that he could possibly want.

Anything he wanted.

“Why haven’t you summoned the nobles?”

“Hmmm?” maladie asked with a mouth full of drink.

“The nobles. Why haven’t you simply brought them here?” Gwen asked. “Or, or the king. You could have anyone here in an instant if you have that kind of power.”

“I’m not going to waste it just because Everwynn is laid up thanks to some floozy…” Maladie drawled.

Gwen walked towards him, nodding. “But that’s what we hired you to do. We brought you here to help us. You were getting paid, and paid handsomely, to help us. And with your magic, you could do anything you wanted to bring Deveren low.”

Maladie held out the bottle. “Stay back!”

Gwen snatched the bottle out of the air, frowning. “But that’s the thing I don’t get. We contacted you to help us get rid of your problem. Deveren’s father tried to steal your lands. We’re giving you the opportunity to pay him back tenfold, with a hand delivered charge. You seem more powerful than him on paper. So why are we just waiting around?”

Gwen stopped. “Unless you’ve been with Deveren this whole time.”

“Guar-*!”

Gwen smacked the baron with the bottle. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Nice shot.”

Deveren looked at Gwen from the bedroom, smiling.

“Thanks for taking care of that. He was starting to stink.”

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Dead by the Book

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I didn't ask for a destiny.

Especially one that says that I'm supposed to destroy every god in existence.

It made the name William Creed a curse. Made me turn tail and run from the only home I knew. Left my friend, my favorite ghost, and hoped that the gods would just forget about me.

But now I'm back. Chasing the one good paycheck I've seen in years. Chasing some kid who's in way over his head, searching for a book that could break reality.

I'll have to take on dragons, the undead, a whole cosmos of deities, and my own mother.

Welcome to God Street. Where miracles become realities.

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