Chapter 22: Butcher’s Boy

“I am already here.”

-??R, date unknown.

Stephan was running out of time.

Immediately after receiving his new lead, he’d sent out Aegur to do some reconnaissance. Anything connected to Yuli Sakaarn. It was now the morning after, and Stephan was following up on what the cat had found. The Butcher’s men had started snooping around the bar. Keeping their distance, for the time being, but they didn’t have a reputation for being terribly patient. Aegur and Amaline were holding down the fort at the bar. He’d told the latter to keep her pistol close.

Stephan’s search led him to the outskirts of the city. Just west of the Proving Yard, obscured by some hills. Out of sight from the prying eyes of the home guard. All the walking had him sweating buckets. He’d taken off the suit jacket, carrying it folded over one arm. Glasses activated, he scanned the shrubby hillside.

According to Aegur, he’d gleaned from some vagrants that there was a crazy man living in the hills outside the city. That he would come out sometimes to stalk through the streets. That wasn’t too odd in itself—or rather, no more odd than Tumba usually was—but this crazy man’s description matched the Butcher’s son almost exactly. Stephan’s gut told him there was something behind it. Besides, he didn’t have time to sit and wait for more leads. This was the best he would get.

His quick once-over revealed nothing. This was the location he’d narrowed down, but there was no hut or cave a crazy person might choose to make their home. No discernable auras, either, aside from those of a few birds in a nearby bush.

Where do I go from here? It’s not like I can search every hill in the area. That would take days, and that’s time I don’t have. Not to mention I’m a bit too out of shape for that sort of thing.

“Let’s think about this,” Stephan muttered. “If I were the son of a dangerous crime lord, and I wanted to hide, where would I go?”

The answer was clear. He would leave Tumba. But with the Concord blocking most air traffic out of the archipelago, that would be difficult. So Yuli was probably still close by, which meant he’d need a place to hide out in the meantime.

Stephan looked straight down.

And there it was. Faint, but visible. An aura, flickering beneath the earth. Moving. Human-sized.

Got you.

Yuli had his own underground hideout. Now, he just needed to find the entrance. That didn’t prove too difficult. A minute of searching revealed a loose bush, which, when displaced, revealed a trapdoor. Stephan crouched before it, drew his gun, and knocked.

“Mr. Sakaarn?” Stephan called. “I’m here to talk!”

The aura beneath the earth shuddered. Jerked. Went cold, indicating fear. Then red-hot.

Stephan dove out of the way.

A shotgun blast tore through the trapdoor, sending wooden chunks flying. He hit the dirt, rolled into a kneeling position, and fixed his aim on the aura. There was too much material between him and his target, but he didn’t want to kill Yuli either way. The man was far more valuable alive.

“I won’t fault you for taking safety precautions!” Stephan continued. “But I will ask you to put your gun down. I’m only here to talk. Your father didn’t send me. I’m an independent.”

“Don’t lie to me, shitbag!” a shrill voice echoed through the ruined trapdoor.

“I’m not. My name is Stephan Lordling.”

“Never heard of you.”

“You might know me by another name. The Gentleman.”

It was quiet for a while.

“You’re that guy?” Yuli called. “I thought you were just some kinda bartending psychopath. What have you got to do with me?” Another few seconds of contemplative silence. “Wait. Dark Mother… You’re not here to kill me, are you?”

“Nothing like that,” Stephan said. “I’m in the business of helping people out. I happen to know that you’re trying to get away from the Butcher. That blockade must be giving you trouble.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Only a handful ships that’ll leave the archipelago these days, and my dad owns half of them. The other half belong to madmen looking to get shot out of the sky.”

“Sounds like you timed your exit from the family poorly.”

“It’s not like I had much choice.”

“Well, listen. How about you let me come down there, we’ll talk about this, and I’ll see if I can help.”

“Promise you won’t try to shoot me?”

What kind of gangster is this guy? Stephan thought. No wonder he wanted to get away from all this.

“Promise!” he said.

Stephan inched over to the trapdoor and kicked the ruined wooden scraps out of the way. He stuck his pistol through the opening, finger off the trigger, and showed himself placing it in its holster. After that, he descended into the narrow dirt tunnel, a band of dusty magelights lighting a set of rickety wooden stairs. Yuli, a lanky Ashlandic man with grey skin and a map of black hair stood at the bottom, still thumbing his shotgun. He looked young, no older than twenty.

Stephan got to the bottom, entering a low chamber filled with bare necessities such as food, a bed, and some jars to piss in. Yuli reluctantly lowered his gun.

“You said you could help me,” he said. “Well? Let’s hear it. O-Or I’ll put some holes in you!”

It didn’t sound very convincing, even to Stephan. “I’ve got contacts. Pirates that are just crazy enough to fly through the Concordian blockade, and just skilled enough to make it.”

“And what do you want in return?”

Stephan looked around the chamber. He spotted a padlocked metal box sitting by the bed and nodded towards it. “I heard you made off with a big chunk of your father’s cash. You give me half, I’ll get you out of this place alive.”

Stephan had no intention of doing anything of the sort, of course. He needed Yuli exactly where he was. But the crime lord’s son needed to hear a believable story, and this was as close as he could make it.

“Half?” Yuli exclaimed. “Are you crazy? I need that money!”

“If you want to keep living in a hole, that’s fine. But if you want help, I’ll take half. How much have you got in there, exactly?”

“Hundred thousand standards.”

A lie—the flicker in Yuli’s aura said as much—but Stephan brushed past it. Let the man feel clever.

“Very well. I’ll take fifty. Do we have a deal?” He reached out his hand.

“Forty,” Yuli said.

Stephan shook his head. “I won’t haggle. It’s fifty or nothing.”

Yuli sighed. “Fine.” He shook Stephan’s hand.

There we are.

*****

Stephan hurried back to the bar. The masked enforcers still lingered around the street. Milling about, trying to make themselves part of the scenery. They weren’t doing a good job.

Once inside, he was immediately greeted by Amaline. She clutched her pistol in both hands.

“Did you find him?” she asked, worried lines on her usually smooth face.

“I sure did,” Stephan said with a quick grin. “I’ve got him right where I need him.”

“That’s great! I have some information of my own, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Apparently, the Outlaw Clan managed to take down a Concordian warship. It crashed off the east coast, and the clan are busy stripping it for parts. I hear it’s supposed to be worth a lot.”

Stephan frowned. “How did you come by this information?”

“Not importaaant.”

“Amaline, I told you to stay put. Did you leave the bar?”

Amaline shrugged and batted her eyelashes. “Oh, I dunno…” When Stephan didn’t let up, she dropped the pretense. “Okay. Fine. I left Aegur in charge for a bit while I went out. I put the charm on one of the outlaw guys, and it paid off!”

“What you did was very dangerous. You know the Masks are already keeping an eye on us. They could have done any number of things to you.”

“But they didn’t, ‘cause I’m smart. I did a good job, boss! Tell me I did a good job.”

Stephan sighed. “Fine. You did a good job. This is useful intel. Still reckless, though. Maybe you and Yin are more alike than I thought.”

“I’m taking that as a big compliment. Anyway, what’s next?”

“Now I’m going to meet the Butcher.”