Something in the man’s tone turned Gemma’s stomach.
“Well, she’ll have to take a break at some point,” Elam said, and pushed the door open.
As the door swung closed behind him, Gemma could hear the sounds of dishes breaking and men swearing. Things inside the tavern were getting out of hand, or perhaps they had already been out of hand for a while.
Every hair on the back of Gemma’s neck was standing on end before the screaming started.
Gemma signaled to Devery, who flowed out of the shadows like a wraith. She followed behind him and the sailors on the steps fell away like water. As they burst through the door, they almost crashed into Elam. Three sailors blocked his path.
“That’s none of your concern, Brother,” the toothless man in the middle grunted. “Just sit back down and have a drink.”
Dev was swinging even before he reached the men. They cried out and fumbled for their weapons. Elam picked up a mug and threw it at a sailor’s head. Chaos broke out around them as Elam brandished his dagger in the direction of a Balklander, then pivoted and smashed his truncheon atop another man’s hand.
“What the bleeding prick?” Gemma shouted. “Where’s Riguin?”
“Go, Gem,” Devery grunted. “Through the doors. Riquin must be in there.”
Elam’s opponent disappeared in a spray of blood and Devery stood grinning where the Balklander had just been. “Just like old times, eh?” Dev said, as he put his back to Elam’s and they spun around. They were now in the middle of a circle of red-faced drunken pirates, who were armed to the extreme and screaming for blood.
And Devery was laughing.
Gemma sent up a silent prayer for their safety and flung herself through the swinging kitchen doors. Her heart was pounding but nothing prepared her for what she saw in the Belly Up’s kitchen. A woman was stretched out across the butcher block naked and unconscious, her back a mass of raised welts and cuts. A man was chained to the bread oven, his flesh sizzling while Riquin pricked him from behind. The man’s screams had obviously been enough to cover the sounds of the fighting outside, because Riquin turned to her in surprise.
“Aegos, Hawkbeard,” she said. “I’ve seen tits that didn’t sag that low on a dead milk cow.”
He reached for his sword, which rested beside the unconscious woman, and Gemma let a dagger fly. It stabbed his hand and pinned it to the butcher block. To Riquin’s credit, he didn’t cry out—even when he pulled the blade from his hand and dropped it to the floor. “I heard you were dead,” he said.
“Funny, but I’d heard you were dead,” she replied. “I’m afraid that only one of us is correct.” Her gaze flicked to the man who was still painfully close to the oven, but he shook his head.
“Gut him, my queen,” he croaked.
Riquin laughed. “This prettied-up street rat is nobody’s queen. She was born a rat, and she’s going to die like one, too.”
“Perhaps next time you decide to rape someone in my Under, you should keep your pants around your ankles, Hawkbeard. It really is quite pitiful to have to kill you in this state.” She glanced down, raising a disdainful eyebrow in the direction of his cock. “Of course, I don’t see next time being much of a concern.”
He lunged toward her, and she dodged to the side, swiping her blade down at his shoulder. She felt resistance as her blade bit into muscle.
Riquin grabbed at his wounded arm. “I’m going to enjoy cutting you, bitch.” He drove toward her, drunk and old and slow as prick.
She dropped low and brought her blade across his hamstring. His leg gave out beneath him, his sword skidded away from him, and she put her foot across the blade.
He spat at her. “You’ve no right! You’re just a …”
She picked up his sword and held it to his cock. The words died on his tongue.
“Crawl, you sadistic shit.”
It was a law of nature, so far as Gemma could tell, that if you threatened a man’s cock, he would do what he was told. And it appeared that Riquin Hawkbeard was no exception. He left a trail of blood across the kitchen floor, but each time Gemma nudged him with the tip of his sword, he moved. His whimpering was pathetic and beautiful to her ears.
At the door, Gemma looked back at the man who was still chained to the ovens. “Help will be here soon.”
He nodded, snot and tears streaming down his ash-stained face, as he said, “It’s already here.”
When she kicked Riquin through the door, the tavern floor was strewn with groaning, bleeding men. Elam was breathing hard as Devery wiped his blade off on an unconscious man’s sleeve. “Hey, beautiful,” Devery said, grinning broadly.
She winked at him, then gestured at Riquin. “I don’t suppose you’d lend me a hand, Dev. Master Hawkbeard has an appointment.”
Devery bowed, the smile never leaving his face. “Regency, I would like nothing more in all the world.”
The whimper that Riquin let escape, added to the puddle of piss he left on the floor, was almost satisfaction enough. Almost.
Gemma scanned the room, making sure that all the threats were eliminated, then patted Elam on the back. “You all right?” she asked.
He nodded, still panting. “Yeah, just—a little out of practice.”
“I’ve got to get out there and deal with—” She waved vaguely in the direction that Devery had gone. “But there are two people in there who need help.” She thrust her head toward the kitchen. “It’s ugly, Elam. If you’d rather, I’ll send Lian in.”
Elam shook his head, though his color went a bit gray. “I’ll see to them,” he said softly.
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” she said. “I don’t tell my people that enough.”
Riquin Hawkbeard was strung up, arms and legs spread wide, between two dock posts. His infantile bird-shaped beard trembled as did his flaccid manhood. Blood was caked down his left leg and across his right shoulder, but somehow, the man held his head straight.
Tollan watched as Gemma approached him from the Belly Up. She looked out over the crowd, which had grown to fill the street. She didn’t raise her voice, but as she started to speak, a hush fell over the group. Tollan scanned the unfamiliar faces for Elam, as a small coil of fear unraveled in his stomach. He had to force himself to listen to Gemma.
“It’s been a dark few days in Yigris, friends, and I must apologize for my absence. But I’m so proud of the way my people—my family—came together to protect our own.” She glanced over her shoulder at the pirate, then said, “But sometimes, even the healthiest of houses can be struck by a plague, a cancer or the clap …”
A few people in the audience chuckled.
“One week ago, when I ascended to the throne of Under, I stood before Guildhall and offered myself to anyone who chose to challenge me. Many of you were in that hall, and you saw that no opponents came forward.” She turned and spat in Riquin’s face. “Riquin Hawkbeard was in Guildhall that night. But too craven to challenge me there, he ran like a whipped dog to gather his followers.”
A low grumble rolled over the crowd.
Gemma held her hand up for silence. “The slate is wiped clean for all those but the ringleader.” She paused, and Tollan wondered how he would forgive those around him if they had betrayed him and mutinied against him. He was surprised to see that Gemma was more forgiving than he would be.
“But, unfortunately, mutiny and revolt are not his worst crimes.” Gemma gestured at the Belly Up. “Within our own walls, Riquin Hawkbeard raped, tortured and imprisoned two of our own.”