Chapter 6
The Rat King
Axios, Upper Midgard
13 Ianuarius 652
The one nice thing about a dirty part of town like this was that there were a lot of places to duck out of view. That being said, when the children managed to catch sight of the men carrying off Zofiya, she caught sight of them, too. She did not say anything, but she motioned for them to stay away. When they did not, she gave them an angry look that let them know they were in for a good talking-to if they succeeded in rescuing her.
The men went to the back side of what looked like some sort of warehouse. There was a big door where things were probably loaded and unloaded that was left wide open. If anyone took notice of the children, no one said or did anything about it.
They slipped inside and fortunately there were plenty of boxes and such to conceal them as they looked for Zofiya. They found her being lined up with several other women and girls, the youngest not being much older than Zsuzsanna.
There was a rickety stairwell leading up to a room on the second floor. The door open and two men emerged to descend down the stairs. One looked much like the men who took Zofiya, but the other was quite different. He was a skinny man with a long nose and sunken cheeks. He was dressed ridiculously, like Pawel was in that one picture from when he, Mama Zosia and Mama Junka went to Munich for Oktoberfest. What were those silly-looking shorts with the suspenders called again?
As the goon led the skinny man toward the line of women and girls, the skinny man said, "Let's take a look at the new merchandise, shall we?"
He would go from one to the next, looking closely at their faces, checking inside their mouths, touching their breasts and their hips, all while making comments such as, "With teeth like that, send her to Fleaman's Den," or "Too young yet, but there's promise to her. Put her to work attending to 113 over at Heaven's Grove."
Zofiya would occasionally steal glances over to where the children were hiding and seemed more annoyed than anything as the skinny man began to inspect her.
The skinny man, who had not seemed to be in that good of a mood, brightened a little as he said, "Here's a fine one." However, as he was holding Zofiya's breasts, his tone took on a more concerned edge. "A little too... fine."
He pulled down the collar of Zofiya's tunic and stared at the little mole between her breasts before looking back up at her.
"Zofiya?" he asked. "Zofiya, is that you?"
"Hello," Zofiya replied with a sigh.
"Where is Pawel?"
"On his way, I imagine."
The skinny man's shoulders sank and he bowed his head.
"Oh, hell..."
He then straightened himself up with a start and turned to his goons, shouting, "Where did you get this one!?"
"We grabbed 'er off the street," the man who kicked Arjun said. "She was runnin' from the City Guard."
The skinny man turned back to Zofiya and asked her, "Why didn't you fight back, Zofiya?"
"What was I going to do, heal them to death?"
"You know the basic attack spells."
Zofiya's eyes went to the children and then she looked away, saying, "I couldn't kill a man in front of the children."
The skinny man cocked his head.
"Children? What children?"
However, without Zofiya saying anything, he seemed to know what she was talking about.
"Oh, right. The children..."
He went back to his goons and said, "Get as many of the boys together as you can. Search the whole quarter for man named Pawel. Twenty... what?"
"Twenty-five," Zofiya said.
"Twenty-five. Brown hair, grey eyes."
"Green eyes."
"Green eyes. Is he in starter equipment like you?"
"Unless he's gotten new clothes."
"Dressed in starter gear like her. Be careful how you approach him. He's a bit of a hothead. Tell him the Don has his woman, that she's safe—emphasize that she's safe—and that we want a nice, peaceable exchange. Got it?"
"Yes, boss," the goons replied.
"Now hurry. The longer it takes, the angrier he's going to be."
Most of the goons left, except for the one who was with the skinny man when he came down the stairs. Arjun was trying to decide what to do. If the goons were going to get Pawel, maybe the best thing for them to do was wait. However, when he turned to tell the others, he saw Fedor had nocked an arrow and was drawing back his bow.
"What are you doing?" Arjun asked in a harsh whisper.
"There's just two of 'em," Fedor said. "We can do it."
"No, wait!"
It was too late, though. Fedor loosed the arrow and, surprisingly, it actually managed to hit something, sticking the goon in the shoulder. However, he may as well have been hit by a pebble for no more than he reacted.
The skinny man looked at the goon and the arrow in his shoulder, not with anger or surprise but rather exasperation.
"Oh now what fresh hell is this?"
* * *
After leaving the guardhouse, the first place Pawel went was the Guild Hall. If she was able, Zofiya was most likely to go there. She was not there, though, so he had to explore his other options. It was a bit far to try to take sanctuary in the Temple and Pawel was not especially eager to go back there. If the City Guard had picked up her and the children, it surely would have come up when he met with Oscarius. His next choice was to run the length of the bazaar and when that yielded nothing, he returned to the Rats' Nest. There were plenty of places to hide from the law there, but he was not sure Zofiya was all that well-versed in the ins and outs the Nest.
As Pawel passed the stall where he got Fedor his bow for the third time, a voice called out to him.
"Sir Pawel? You Sir Pawel?"
Pawel turned to see a stock Ruffian and would have ignored him if he had not called out to him by name.
"Who wants to know?" Pawel asked.
"Lookin' for a woman?" the Ruffian asked.
The fishmongers were as eager to hawk their wares as any other peddler. It did not explain how the Ruffian knew Pawel's name, though. He was pretty sure he was not that well-known in such circles and at any rate, who would expect him to be back in the World after all these years?
As Pawel had more important things to attend to, he told the Ruffian, "Not interested."
"You sure?" the Ruffian asked. "Wavy brown hair, really knows how to fill out a basic Cloth Tunic, little mole 'tween her teats..."
A surge of anger overcame Pawel and he very nearly drove his fist right through the Ruffian's chest, but just enough of his reason remained intact that he realized he would not get much information from a corpse, so he settled for just seizing the Ruffian by the shirt.
Before Pawel could do anything more, and likely break several of the Ruffian's bones in the process, the Ruffian dropped his tough guy act and sputtered, "Wa-wa-wait! I was sent to take you to her! She's with the Don! He has her!"
"Where!?" Pawel demanded.
"I said I'm s'pposed to take you to her! She's safe! She's not hurt! Alright!?"
Pawel held him for a moment before dropping him and giving him a little push to encourage him on his way.
"Get movin'," he said, "an' be quick about it."
The Ruffian held up his hands submissively, saying, "Alright, alright, alright. Come on. This way."
* * *
The Ruffian brought Pawel to one of the more high-end brothels of the South Quarter, Heaven's Grove. It mostly catered to the gentry who could not afford a personal Courtesan and Adventurers of means. Had Pawel found Zofiya and the children lined up with the merchandise, he would have certainly killed the Don and everyone associated with him. However, he was instead led to the Don's own private lounge.
About the last thing Pawel expected to see was a familiar face dressed like he came out of some Bavarian postcard. Or Zofiya and Zsuzsanna dolled up in China dresses or the boys dressed in the same fashion as said familiar face. Under any other circumstances, he would be amused at the boys trying not to look at the paintings of reclining nude odalisques that adorned the walls—or at least trying not to be seen looking at them.
"Welcome, Pawel, my boy," the familiar face said with open arms as if they were old friends reuniting.
"Crispo?" Pawel asked. "You're the Don?"
Crispo tipped his Feather Cap and replied, "I am indeed."
"What's stopping me from breakin' you neck?"
Crispo motioned to Zofiya and to the children, saying, "I would like to think that the fact that dear Zofiya and your children are safe, unharmed and, might I add, unspoiled would grant me a slightly longer lease on life."
"Zofiya, are you alright? Kids?"
"I'm fine, Pawelek," Zofiya said. "The kids are fine, too."
Pawel was relieved, of course, but he did not want to let it show too much. He was still quite angry and while it might no longer be quite at the level of wholesale slaughter, Crispo was going to have to work very hard to get through this conversation without at least having a few broken bones at the end.
"Alright," Pawel said, "you've bought yourself some time to explain yourself."
Crispo gave a deferential nod.
"Thank you. Let me begin by apologizing for my men. Surely you understand the sort of people I have to employ in my line of work. They see a grown woman in starter gear running from the City Guard, they think they've found a poor, unfortunate soul who might be suited to my employment."
"Your boys in the habit of snatchin' kids too?" Pawel growled.
"Not with my sanction, no, but in this case, the children came here on their own. What is this, their first day? And yet they throw themselves at my men to save their 'Mama Zosia'. Touching, really. Once we got them to settle down and explained the situation, we sat down like civilized people and have been waiting for you."
Pawel eyed Zofiya and the children and said, "Takin' the time to play dress-up, I see."
"Consider it a gift from your Uncle Crispo. Would you like a matching set, Pawel?"
Crispo snapped his suspenders to emphasize the point.
"I'll pass," Pawel said. "And what's with that outfit anyway?"
"What do you mean? It's the national costume of my people."
"You're a half-Czech Swiss. That sort of thing's Bavarian if I remember right."
Crispo shrugged.
"We lived around the Alps. Our Trachten aren't so different from the Bavarian style. Come on, Pawel, embrace the lederhosen."
"Once was enough."
Crispo arched his eyebrow.
"Oktoberfest," Zofiya said.
"Oh, really?" Crispo said, sounding interested. "How about you, Zofiya, dear? Did you wear the dirndl? With the..."
He cupped his hands to his chest, prompting Zofiya to sigh and nod.
"Jun too?"
"Yes, Jun too."
Crispo stroked his chin as he was clearly conjuring up the mental image.
"Not as much for the bodice to work with, but I would have liked to see it. Speaking of which, where is dear Jun?"
"The World didn't get her this time," Pawel said.
"Oh? I think I'd like to hear more."
Pawel motioned with his head to the far corner and said, "Zosia, can you take the kids over there? I'd like to talk to 'Uncle' Crispo a bit."
Zofiya got up from her seat and began to shepherd the children away.
"Come on, kids."
Pawel watched Zofiya as she left. Those China dresses certainly hugged every curve quite snugly. His enjoyment was spoiled a little when he saw that Crispo's eyes were following her just as much.
The two of them reached an unspoken agreement to stop staring at Zofiya and Crispo then asked, "Can I get you something to drink, Pawel?"
"I'm fine."
"It really is no trouble."
"I'm fine."
Crispo shrugged at his hospitality being declined and resumed the conversation.
"So tell me what happened. I thought you went back."
"We did," Pawel said, "but then we were brought here again. Fedor just turned ten. I'm thinking that might've been the trigger."
"Convenient for the World that his birthday was on the Ides."
"Yeah, convenient."
Crispo looked over at Zofiya and the children and said, "They really have grown up, haven't they, Pawel?"
"Yeah."
"You've grown up, too, you and Zofiya. Jun as well, I'm sure."
It had been nearly seven years, but suddenly Pawel felt like he had not grown up much at all. He felt like a proper adult would not have gotten himself into half the trouble he had in the short time since he returned.
Crispo continued, "So? What happened that separated you two and led to this little... unfortunate misunderstanding?"
"I'm guessin' I've got you to thank for that," Pawel replied.
"Oh? How so?"
"So Arjun wanders off and this peddler brat tries sellin' him Experience Charms. He says no, then the damn brat starts accusin' him a' bein' a thief, brings the City Guard after him. I intervene and that gets me a lil' visit with the Captain."
Crispo smiled at the thought of said Captain.
"And how did you find our friend Oscar?"
"He's got a stick up his ass so big it'd take all the Giants in Jotunheim to lift it."
Crispo gave a low chuckle and said, "So he's been doing well since I last saw him."
"Would've been fairly recent, I imagine, seein' as how the Dons an' the City Guard have your little arrangement."
"Dear Oscar sends his Vice Captain, a man of greater... understanding to accompany the Lord Mayor's representative."
"So that agreement includes profitin' offa dead kids?"
Crispo's countenance dropped in a blatantly insincere display of sympathy as he said, "Those poor children dying out in the field is a tragedy, of course, but there's no reason what they leave behind can't benefit the ones who come after them."
"And you get whatever percent offa what them peddlers make."
Crispo held up his hands in feigned innocence.
"I don't make the market demands. I just try to meet them. If you can't get what you want out in the light of the sun, all you have to do is step into the shadows and someone's bound to provide. So long as you're here in the South Quarter, that someone is me."
"How'd you get into this?" Pawel asked. "I thought you were with the Green Griffins. Weren't you sentenced to fifteen years?"
"Oh, I was, but I was able to secure an early release. We had an... unfortunate encounter with a certain spooky fellow up North."
"Nightshade was as far as you got?"
Crispo nodded.
"Just as well, too, as I wasn't savoring the prospect of freezing my balls off in Niflheim. Frostwood was bad enough."
"Yeah, but you come out in El-Samak after that. All the sun you could want. If it wasn't for those damn desert nights, you'd forget what cold even was all the way to Nidavellir."
The prospect did not seem to appeal to Crispo in the slightest. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip from his cup.
"Give me the pleasant clime of Costa any day of the week."
"Then why aren't you runnin' your little business outta San Romano?" Pawel asked.
"Because San Romano is a city of thirty-six thousand while the South Quarter has over two hundred thousand and is the main hub of business for Adventurers coming and going through this city. You tell me where the money is."
Perhaps San Romano was in his retirement plans. Pawel kept any smart rejoinder to himself for a change and once Crispo was done taking another drink, he reached into the pouch at his hip and pulled out five bands of orange cloth.
Crispo offered the cloth bands to Pawel, saying, "Look, Pawel, so we can avoid any future misunderstandings, take these. If you wear them here in the Rats' Nest, none of my people will lay a hand on you. I don't advise wearing them in the other Quarters, though. You'd be inviting trouble instead of warding it off."
As tempting as it may have been to stick to stubborn pride, the prospect of having the vast majority of the South Quarter's criminal element leave him and his family alone was too good to pass up. He would have to be damn sure the children took Crispo's warning to heart, though. Them getting caught up in some kind of turf war if they would ever visit the other Quarters was one of the last things he wanted.
"Thanks, I guess," Pawel said, pocketing the bands. "This mean I owe you or something?"
"Not at all," Crispo replied. "If you'd consider the balance even for the little... discourtesy to dear Zofiya, I would be grateful."
It would have made sense to leave it at that everybody go home in peace, but Pawel thought about what had happened earlier in the day and thought he might as well try taking advantage of the resources at his disposal.
"Let me try pushing you a lil' further," he said.
Crispo simply arched an eyebrow.
Pawel then asked, "You have people in the Temple?"
Crispo held his hand to his heart and said, "As a good man of faith, yes, of course."
Pawel hesitated for a moment but then decided to go forward.
"There's a girl among the Thoros Faithful. Name's Anemone. If you'd take care of her for me, I'll consider us square."
Crispo did not inquire any further and simply offered Pawel his hand.
"We have a deal then. Our word will suffice? No need for a Covenant?"
Pawel accepted his hand, saying, "Nah. We're good."
"Then give my love to Zofiya and you all be running along. As fun as this has been, I do have a business to run."
"Yeah, well, watch who you mess with when you're runnin' your business."
Crispo tapped his arm.
"So you aren't counted among those my people... mess with."
"See you 'round, Crispo."
"Goodbye, Pawel, dear."
Crispo waved as Pawel went over to Zofiya and the children.
"Let's get goin'," he said.
"Everything's taken care of?" Zofiya asked.
"Yeah, we're good."
"Do we hafta wear this?" Fedor complained.
"Now, now, don't be complainin' 'bout the gift from your Uncle Crispo," Pawel said. Then in a low voice, "You can change once we're outta the Nest."
And with that, Pawel and his family managed to escape the frying pan without falling into the fire.