Mercy’s for fools, thought Lykos, almost hearing his dead father whisper the words in his ear. ‘This easy life not to your taste?’ he asked.
‘I’d rather be cracking heads and betting on the pits than this,’ Thaan grumbled.
‘Not much I can do about the pits, for now,’ Lykos said. ‘But the head cracking . . .’ Something Fidele had said during their meeting had been bothering him all day, that’s why he had spent the day with a mallet in his hand – it helped him think. They reached their ship, tied off the rowing boat and clambered up the ladder onto the deck. Most of the crew had been sleeping ashore, with strict orders not to spend time in Jerolin’s inns. A few hands were still about though – there was always work that needed doing. Lykos looked about, studying each face. Then he saw who he was looking for.
‘One of you fetch Jace, bring him down to my cabin,’ he said with a nod, then turned and walked below decks without a look back.
It was not long before there was a knock at his cabin door and Deinon entered, Jace behind him. Thaan stayed in the hall and closed the door.
‘Have a drink,’ Lykos said, thrusting a cup of wine at Jace.
Jace took it, his smile all teeth and gums, and drank, though only a little. He had not been aboard long, only a ten-night, having earned his place at the oars at the last pit-fight Lykos had attended. Lykos liked him, liked his style – a focused, contained fury when he fought. He was lean, yet well-muscled. Scars latticed his arms and shoulders. Probably only eighteen years old, maybe nineteen. He looked older, but that was usual for any that made it out of the pits.
‘I wanted to share a drink with you, welcome you aboard. I do it with all the new lads.’
Jace relaxed slightly, just a suggestion in the set of his shoulders, his feet.
‘Sit down,’ Lykos said, more order than request. Jace’s eyes flitted to the door and back. He sat, slowly, legs coiled beneath him. Still wary, then.
‘How’re you finding your new life?’ Lykos asked.
‘It’s good, chief. Better’n the pits, for sure.’
Deinon moved out of Jace’s view, stepping behind him.
‘Aye. Life with the Vin Thalun is not the easiest – some might say the hardest – but the rewards . . .’ He grinned, emptied his own cup of wine and placed it carefully on a table beside Jace. ‘Stay alive long enough and who knows what you’ll earn – silver, your own war-galley, women. Lots of women. Isn’t that right, Deinon, even for someone as ugly as you, eh?’
‘True enough, chief,’ Deinon said with a wide grin.
Lykos stood before Jace, feeling his temper stir, flaring hot.
‘All I ask is loyalty.’
With no warning, Jace erupted from his chair, headbutting Lykos in the gut. Lykos had been expecting it, but still the lad caught him. Gods, but the pits make you fast, he thought, even as he doubled over, fighting to draw a breath.
Jace was trying to step away, reaching for a knife at his belt, when Deinon’s hand clutched his hair, yanked him backwards, the shieldman’s other fist crashing into the boy’s head, just above the ear. Jace staggered, though still managed to stay on his feet. Lykos headbutted him full in the face, felt cartilage break, crunching as blood spurted. Jace collapsed back into the chair, head lolling.
‘Loyalty,’ Lykos snarled, Jace’s blood dripping from his face. ‘I gave you a new life, but that wasn’t good enough for you. Had to run to Fidele. Why?’
‘I didn’t do nothing,’ Jace bubbled through his ruined face. ‘Don’t understand.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Lykos hissed. ‘Deinon.’
The shieldman grabbed one of Jace’s wrists and clamped his hand to the table. In a blur Lykos drew his knife and slammed it into Jace’s palm, pinning it to the wood beneath. Jace screamed, pain and terror mingled, eyes bulging.
‘Why?’ Lykos repeated, bending to stare into Jace’s eyes. ‘Speak the truth and the pain’ll end.’
Jace just stared at him.
‘All right then,’ Lykos said, ‘looks like you need a little more persuasion.’ With a sigh he drew another knife from his boot, this one small, thin and sharp. He held it hovering over Jace’s pinned hand and with a jerk cut one of the man’s fingers off.
Jace screamed, shaking his head wildly. Deinon held him clamped in place.
‘I can keep going like this all night,’ Lykos said. ‘There’s more than fingers I could be cutting.’
‘When I was taken,’ Jace whispered, ‘my family – mother, father, sister – all murdered, by you.’
‘How old were you, boy?’
‘F-fifteen.’
Lykos sighed, tutted. ‘Shame you didn’t learn your lesson.’
‘Wha . . .?’ Jace said, his face contorted with pain.
‘That I control life and death for you.’ Lykos nodded to Deinon, who still had a fist twisted in Jace’s hair. He pulled the lad’s head back and cut his throat.
‘Take him out in the lake and sink him with something heavy,’ Lykos said, stepping away from the blood pooling at his feet. He poured himself a cup of wine.