Two of Knaves [Deckbuilder] Chapter 36 - The Tip of the Tongue

Chapter 36 - The Tip of the Tongue

I let myself into Kridick’s old office and closed the door behind . To my annoyance, the person who’d co to et was sitting in my chair behind my desk, and the papers on top showed every indication of having been gone through. In fact, the elf had a missive in his hand as he tapped a finger against his cheek. He was wrapped in the fanciest rags this side of Dragonmaw, and the fact they weren’t torn up from getting mugged multiple tis on his way through the middle city told , in no uncertain terms, that he was not to be fucked with.

“It seems you were detained, Mr…”

“Stitcher,” I said. “Darcent Stitcher.” I didn’t have a last na to speak of, so my mother's profession seed as good as any. Never knew my father, so he could keep his na to himself, wherever he was.

The elf quirked a blonde eyebrow. He had a trace of the gold in him, which made the fact he was sitting in an orc’s chair quite ironic. There’s a bit of history between the two, as I’ve ntioned. Not that I thought a glow-steel sword bearer was going to march in here and turn my office into a fifth unsheathing. I moved past him and eased out of my robe, wincing where I’d taken most of the fall when the rat blasted .

“Well, Mr. Stitches, in that case you may call Mr. Threadripper. You can think of as an interdiary between yourself and a certain individual with vested interests in the downs and the docks.”

I huffed in amusent. No doubt he thought his little jest at my mistake to be quite clever, mistaking my moniker for a statent of bravado, rather than simply drawn from my ho and my mother’s profession as a seamstresses. A threadripper is a small, two-pronged device for tearing stitches out of a garnt. But little more than a single-purpose tool.

He continued, “May I assu you know of whom I speak?”

“Yes,” I replied.

The elf continued. “So key interests have been upset by the loss of certain important individuals.” He leaned forward. “Do you know the whereabouts of the woman called Lenise?”

“No,” I said honestly. I’d never asked Mithra where she’d stashed the woman.

“And what of the criminal, Kridick?”

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I turned around. “We passing judgent on crooks, here?” I asked.

“Just answer the question.”

“No,” I said. “But if you find him, let know. I have a few things I’d like to say to him myself.”

“I’m sure.” Threadripper leaned back, smiling. “Just a formality, really. We already know he’s hiding in one of the unsheathing. We don’t know precisely where, but we know he can’t do so forever. Either he cos out, or we hire rcenaries to go in. In the an ti, my superior would like assurances that this district will continue to run smoothly so as not to upset his designs.”

“Speaking of your superior. When am I expected to et Daggertongue?”

Threadripper’s oil-slick smile spread across his face, dark and cruel. He had the prominent front teeth of a golden elf that gave him a natural arrogance. “That certainly depends. When shall I tell him you expect to be worth eting?”

Except by his errand boys, apparently. I moved over to rat-bed and dropped the rest of my belongings. (yes, I’d brought the thing over from the money-changers because I couldn’t afford a new bed). “You know,” I said. “If Daggertongue wants this place running smooth, he could do sothing about Mother Mayaz breathing down my neck all the ti.”

Threadripper grinned, a predatory hawkish thing. “Mr. Stitcher, what makes you think we haven’t already? If you can’t settle petty gang disputes on your own, why should he think you worth the additional expenditure of resources? The rewards co only after you’ve proved you and your devilborn partner can stand on your own two feet. Kridick didn’t run because he was scared of you. He ran because he lost sothing quite precious to Daggertongue, sothing he was charged to vouchsafe. Once you do more than fall back into an unearned chair emptied by another’s hasty departure? Perhaps we can revisit.” he folded his hands. “Besides, my intelligence tells the Mayazians are greatly diminished in reach after the events of the last weeks.”

I grunted, not wanting to contest the point, but I wasn’t sure what he’d done that would constitute help. This just drove ho how alone we were against our enemies that even diminished sharks could sll blood in the water. And if we didn’t want to count Daggertongue and his minions among our enemies, we’d better make so serious strides in securing the downs. If the shadowy gangster, who was almost certainly a lord, as well, saw fit to replace us? We weren’t strong enough to oppose the kind of pressure he could leverage. “Fine.” I said, making my best effort not to grind my teeth. Even with all my troubles at the academy, things had never been this complicated. “Anything else?”

Threadripper dropped the paper he held and picked up another, scanning it. “You should consider establishing the use of a cipher—once you have secrets worth keeping, of course. Not these droll matters.”

The knaves in my deck buzzed with agreent, and I snapped my will at them to chide them for agreeing with the elf currently usurping my office. Don’t help! I added.

Threadripper stood and stretched, making a show of dusting his fine trousers off where they’d touched my chair. “Good luck, tonight, Mr. Stitcher,” he said, donning his cap and cape. “Hopefully this fight won’t result in additional structure fires.”

Yeah, yeah. Get gone already. I smiled, opening the door for the elf. “I make no promises that I can’t keep, Mr. Threadripper.”