Chapter 118: Favored Frenemies

  Quentin waited until the next day to gather everyone together in the war room. As relaxing and suited for entertainment as the Atrium was, he needed everyone to take this seriously and focus. He, Razia, Isa, Jonas, and Kit the former gladiator took seats in a circle. A table with fruit and a pitcher of water rested between them, and they waited for him to speak with varying degrees of patience and curiosity.

  Isa, of course, already knew what this was about, but he hadn’t told the others. In Razia’s case, it was partially to torment her with the unknown, and even now she tried not to squirm in her seat or egg Quentin on to speak. Jonas and Kit were engaged in a quiet conversation that had slowed rather than stopped when Quentin entered.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and began to speak. “We’re being contracted for a high profile assassination. I’ve already agreed to it, so anyone who doesn’t want anything to do with murder for hire rather than an honest fight can walk away, with no resentment.”

  Kit and Jonas looked at each other before laughing. “A little late to care about that, mate,” said Kit, scratching at his chin. “I kind of make a living fighting for you now.” He was a wolfish looking man, lean and hungry, with dyed dark blue hair and a short, curly beard. Out of all the gladiators who survived the street war, he was one of the fiercest and most committed to their new lifestyle.

  “I know, but there should always be a choice,” Quentin insisted. “You are my most trusted friends, and this could very well end with us killed or imprisoned if something goes wrong. And if we’re imprisoned, then we’re likely to be executed, either in the Colosseum or by someone coming to our cells and strangling us.”

  Silence.

  “Well,” said Razia, “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t needlessly risk death to get my thrills. I’m listening.” Her eyes twinkled with interest and mischief.

  “You already know I want the son of a bitch dead, so obviously I’m in.” Isa smirked.

  Jonas shrugged with a half-hearted smile. “I’m always up for a challenge. Who are we murdering, Quentin?”

  He took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, and gratitude towards having friends. It would never, ever get old. “Senator Lukas Zervas, to prevent him from turning the city on the Ramali population. We’re going to kill him and his wife, and burn his villa to the ground.”

  It was Isa who broke first. “I can’t wait.” She bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Not that I’m complaining, but why are we sparing the children?”

  Quentin’s heart clenched painfully. “Aside from my lack of wanting to hurt a child if they were that age, his children are grown and moved out. They’re off limits unless they try to retaliate later.” Or if they happened to be there that night, but he really didn’t want any more deaths on his hand than necessary. “We’ll also be freeing his slaves. Part of the reason we’re burning as much as we can is because we need to destroy his records as well.”

  Kit cleared his throat. “Does that mean an opportunity to loot the premises?” He tried not to sound too hopeful, and failed.

  “Waste not, want not. You and the men can have as much as you can carry away.” Quentin took a drink of water and relaxed a little. He’d worried about their reactions for nothing. Maybe it was only him who still retained a sliver of guilt over killing bad people. But at least, if the Darkstar hadn’t been lying, he wouldn’t become a shade. That had to mean something.

  “Other than that, I have nothing specific planned, and none of the intelligence we’ve had for the raids we did against the Warlords.” Quentin shrugged and gestured to the group. “The floor is open to any thoughts or ideas you might have. Who’d like to start?”

  To his surprise, Kit raised two fingers and cleared his throat. “Are we expected to be given a layout of the place and knowledge of his security, or do we get it ourselves? I’m not sure any of our boys on their own could do it without sticking out like a sore thumb, but if we get a good girl or two to pair with us and have ‘business in the area’, then…”

  Razia snapped her fingers. “You beat me to it. I know we said we wouldn’t use the girls to directly spy on our clients, but this is different, isn’t it?”

  Isa, naturally, had something to say about that. “Only because you want it to be different. The entire goal of this place was to minimize the danger we put our people in.” She was as restrained as possible and still sounded irritated at the idea.

  “About that…” Jonas started. He looked anywhere but at Isa. He’d never been afraid of her before, but Quentin thought he knew what this was about. “Me and some of the other Shades have been teaching the girls how to defend themselves. Some are getting really good with knives and holds.”

  Despite what everyone predicted, Isa didn’t blow up at him. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair, straightening and pulling on it thoughtfully. Her lips pursed and twisted, but no sound came out. After half a minute of quiet, she slumped. “I may take care of the Garden, but I do not own anyone. If they want to risk their lives, it’s their choice. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Quentin reached for her hand, and she reluctantly took it. When she was worked up, it was a coin flip whether touch would help or hurt things. He squeezed, and she nodded in appreciation.

  No one wanted to be the one to draw attention, but Razia spoke up anyway. “I don’t want to risk anyone either. It’s a smart move, and it will be one hundred percent optional, by people who agree to facing the danger.” Her voice was softer than usual, and pensive.

  “Of course,” said Quentin, looking around. “We’ll have the information we need within the next day, and from there I think it’s a good idea to do some scouting of our own. He stood and went to the map of the Boulevard, and reached for a spot just off the map, on the western side. “He lives about here. Security is bound to be at least moderate, but there’s plenty of ways of dealing with that. Any other thoughts?”

  Kit stood. “The closest thing I have to a thought is that it’s pointless to talk about it until we have more information. But I’ll be coming along for this mission, and I’d like to spearhead the scouting efforts. I want to take Kanya and Beth with me, if possible.”

  Isa hesitantly nodded and said, “I’ll find who’s in the area and offer them some steep discounts and offers for special visits for the next week. Any pay we get from those will go towards the girls and their scouts.”

  “Agreed,” said Quentin. “Additionally, I have a thousand aquilos to budget towards everyone helping kill the bastard. Our scouts will be paid well, as will anyone who wants to come along and loot. My only requirement is that we kill him, free his slaves, and destroy his home as a message. I’ve been assured that we’ll have some protection from the Watch, but we can’t guarantee it will be foolproof. This needs to be done flawlessly.

  “But Kit is right. You’re all aware of what we’re doing, and what’s needed, so far. The rest of the day is yours.” Quentin stood, and so did everyone else.

  Kit and Isa left, but Razia and Jonas stayed behind. Quentin turned towards the teenage warrior questioningly. “Everything okay?”

  Jonas rubbed the back of his head. “Are we going to be halting all activity until then, or are we going to continue with some aggressive negotiations, maybe attack a few places off the Boulevard? If we don’t act, some of them might poke us at the wrong time.”

  Quentin and Razia exchanged a look. Her face was naked enthusiasm for the idea, and she motioned with her head to say yes. He smiled and nodded. “I trust you have something in mind?”

  “I do.” Jonas’ handsome face twisted into something ugly and angry for a second. “You’re all for targeting bad men, right? One of the old orphan houses I used to hop between are selling some of the children to slavers. I want to bloody some noses and put pressure on them.”

  Well, so long as they were making political statements about slaves. It would be even more heat when they killed Zervas, but maybe…No, that was too ambitious. Quentin finally nodded and said, “How many men do you want to take?”

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  “An even dozen Shades would be enough to make some noise and not be in danger. There are…” He chuckled with dark humor. “There are a few orphans who ended up in our crew. They’re just as pissed as me.”

  Quentin waved his hand. “Do it. Make it a smash and grab, freeing who you can. Do not linger, and do not attract outside attention. We can’t afford complications.”

  “Understood.” Jonas gave a half-serious salute and retreated, leaving Quentin alone with Razia.

  “How are you doing?” he asked seriously. “Do you think we can afford to go this big, or am I making a mistake?”

  Razia wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest, looking up at him. “I don’t think this is a mistake. This is going to make us or break us, but I think it’s better to try and enact change than to be too scared to act. I know this guy, even if I never directly served him. He’s a bastard even among bastards, and…”

  Her smile turned predatory. “If we do this, and remove an active senator, it’ll make his seat up for grabs. We could put someone more sympathetic to us or our allies. Having a politician in your pocket is a great boon.”

  Quentin had briefly thought of the power vacuum, but the idea of taking advantage of the chaos they created was still new to him. It almost annoyed him that he seemed incapable of making the big moves himself, but then, this was a team effort. He smiled and nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. This is a big, bold move.”

  She bit her lip, and he almost took it for a cue to kiss her. When Quentin leaned forward, she ducked it, laughing in a way that could only be described as unhinged. “Oh gods, I just realized something. I know exactly who to use to get more information.”

  “Oh yeah?” he tilted his head.

  “You’re not going to like it,” she warned, still laughing.

  “Who?” Quentin demanded. Then he realized, and groaned.

  Kavan and Delia Swint were delighted for Quentin and Razia to come calling. Kavan may have been a vain, insufferable jackass, but his family was old, and he was good at moving money around. It made him the perfect fair weather friend for those in power, which currently included them.

  They met in a high end restaurant outside Quentin’s territory. They almost denied him entrance entirely, and would have if Delia hadn’t come up and vouched for him. Razia had to hide her laughter as the fleshsculpted woman clung to his arm with her full obsession on display.

  “Mr. Q, I am so sorry about that. We don’t tolerate that kind of disrespect for our friends. Is there anything I can do to make things right?” She took his hand between her breasts, pure hunger in her unnaturally green eyes.

  “Buy us lunch and talk with us about boring subjects and I’ll be mollified,” he said, resisting the urge to demand she not touch him. Their plan hinged on her unhinged lust for him, and the way he kept her wanting more.

  Razia stepped beside them, throwing an arm around Delia’s shoulder on the other side, and walking past several tables full of older men who stared with distaste at the moonkissed and his retinue. “You must tell me who your sculptor is, Delia. You look better each time I see you.”

  She laughed hideously and said, “Ahh, you want to go bigger.” Her eyes dropped to Razia’s tight top, and the small breasts underneath. I don’t blame you, and my guy is very reasonable. All the shape and size you want without losing sensitivity. Hell, he can make you more sensitive.”

  Again, Quentin resisted the urge to grab her by the hair and tell her to watch herself. Maybe later. He put on a fake smile and met Kavan at a table in the back he’d gotten for them. It gave them a great view of the rest of the diners, with the garden on the other side of a marble half-wall. Purple and orange flowers grew in a checkered pattern, giving their corner a pleasant, fruity fragrance.

  “Quentin Quintius, you handsome son of a bitch,” Kavan said with too much enthusiasm. “And the lovely Razia. I must confess to thinking about you nonstop since our party.” His eyes scraped over her like he was shredding her clothes with his mind.

  The second the handshake was over, Quentin wanted to wipe his hand off on the tablecloth. He sat on the far side of the table, with his back to a pillar. He let Razia do the talking at first.

  “Kavan, always lovely to see you!” she gushed with just as much feigned enthusiasm. The difference was that Kavan couldn’t see through it. “I’m sorry for the short notice, but we’ve been thinking about what you’ve said about politics.”

  “Ugh,” Delia chimed in, rolling her eyes. “Definitely boring stuff.”

  Kavan waved her off and leaned closer to Razia. “And what was it I said? I’m afraid my mind was occupied with other things that night.”

  Quentin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He kept his mouth shut, and ears open, idly noting how Delia scooted closer to him every few seconds.

  “It was about how important the elections are, and this one in particular. We’ve been hearing rumors about one of the incumbent senators from the house of nobles, and wanted to hear your thoughts on him.” Razia mimicked Delia and got closer to him, until both she and Quentin were pressed in on either side. “What can you tell us about Lukas Zervas?”

  The scrawny, greasy man made a surprised sound. “I’m surprised, Razia. That hateful old bastard is awful to everyone, but foreigners especially. He hates Carolasi, Islanders, and even Ramali, who he calls invaders too! What about him has your interest?”

  “Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Razia said. “I have it on good authority that he’ll be the Vox Primo if he’s re-elected, and that could hurt my business. We have a lot of foreign boys and girls. The clients like variety, you know? Quentin and I were thinking of maybe trying to rally around his opponent. Or maybe even find some dirt on him. And I thought to myself, you know basically everyone. You’ve gotta be able to help us.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” said Kavan with a snort. “He’ll never actually target whores or similar. He’s a rotten, mean old bastard, but he’s a hypocrite like the rest of them. He’s got a soft spot for Ramali women, but uh…” His eyes slid over to Quentin. “He likes to be a bit rough with them. I don’t think you’d enjoy serving him at all, knowing how…particular you two can be.”

  Quentin chuckled darkly. “If they want to be paid badly enough, I know of several Ramali and Mooran girls who would be up for it, assuming he doesn’t do anything permanent to them. That would be a mistake.”

  Delia spoke up. “As far as I know, he just whips them a bunch and…” she cupped her mouth and stage-whispered, “I think he likes to pee on them. You know, to show them how little they matter and how much he hates them.” She didn’t sound disgusted. On the contrary, Quentin feared he may have awoken something in her.

  “You won’t have to worry about that, if you want to try to attract his business, I suppose,” said Kavan. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, with a big smile following. “You’re not trying to get blackmail material, are you? Maybe get someone important to see him with a Ramali whore in his lap?”

  “You caught us,” said Razia with an exaggerated sigh. “We’re hoping to stir up a little trouble, maybe do what we can to ensure someone more sympathetic to some of our friends gets elected. If ever there was a time to strike, it would be now, no? When are the elections again?”

  “When the summer storms are over, right before fall,” Quentin supplied.

  “Thank you. So, we’ve still got another month or so, right?” Razia looked around. “That’s plenty of time to fuck with him and throw support at another candidate. Do you have any you’ve got your eyes on, Kavan?”

  He puffed up with importance. “Well,” he said, drawing the word out, “It’s two weeks until candidates are officially announced. I’ve always fancied running for office myself, but I haven’t so far because of how valuable being an intermediary is. But maybe we could help each other out. My office would be in the commons, and Zervas in the nobles. Who’s to say we can’t make both things happen? You’ll get two friendly votes on your side.”

  Quentin’s gut warned him this sounded too good to be true. He didn’t want to get any more entangled with the Swints than he had to, but… “What exactly would you need from us?” he asked.

  “Oh, I can think of a few things,” Delia said. “A few more parties, a bit of excess, some fundraising help, maybe a bit of muscle to shake up our rivals…”

  Before Quentin could refuse on principle, Razia cleared her throat. “That sounds like a fair trade. Would you mind if I spoke with Quentin privately for a minute?”

  The Swints shared a wicked look. “I think that’s fine,” said Kavan. “Delia, my dear? Do you remember that special spot near the kitchens, just out of view?”

  Delia squealed loud enough for both Quentin and the nearest two tables to wince and jerk away. “I do. I know exactly what’s on your mind, you naughty boy.” She giggled and got up. Kavan followed her, turning his head to wink at Razia once.

  “Well, I can say from experience we don’t have much time,” Razia said dryly. “I think we should agree to it for now. He gave us exactly what we needed.”

  “And what’s that?” Quentin asked, watching them disappear from sight into the garden.

  “We know exactly how to gain entrance, and sneak our men in. He wants a bunch of Ramali whores? We can give him just that, gain entrance, and get the job done. All we really need now is for a bit of help setting it up, and the intelligence from Omar. Think about it, Quentin. It’s all falling right into our lap!”

  That was the problem. It felt too smooth, too easy, and too worthwhile to do. While Quentin allowed himself to enjoy life now, he didn’t care to get overconfident or sloppy. And the idea of helping Kavan get any more smug made him sick to his stomach. On the other hand, this was how the game was played.

  “Fine,” Quentin sighed. Then, he smirked. “Think he’ll be surprised when it turns out we weren’t going for blackmail after all?”

  Razia just grinned.