Deadhouse Landing

Dancer drew breath, only to realize that Wu wasn’t here and that he didn’t know what the damned fool intended. ‘Yeah,’ he managed, swallowing his fury. ‘That’s the plan.’

Both Hawl and Amiss asked, ‘How?’

He made a vague gesture. ‘Got funds hidden away. Listen, keep watch. Find out if there’re any takers. Identify them. Yes?’

The mage’s answering grin was knowing. ‘Right. Can’t have a bidding war, hey?’ She went to the kitchen, no doubt to report to Surly.

Amiss was watching him expectantly. ‘So? Where’s all this coin? In your socks?’

He sat back, his jaws clenching, and ground out, ‘It’s coming…’

*   *   *

By time the evening arrived Dancer was fairly vibrating with frustration and annoyance. Where was the bastard? Didn’t he understand that they had plans in motion? That he couldn’t just take off like this, without talking to anyone?

Cold soup lay before him and he sat alone. The Napan crew seemed to be able to sense his dark mood and occupied other tables.

What were they to do? Kidnap the owner and force him to sign over the papers? Then what? A splash in the harbour, no doubt. But Dancer was no murderer. He was a killer, yes, but not a plain murderer. To his mind the difference was as vast as a chasm.

It was at that moment that the front door creaked open and Wu walked in. He was humming nonchalantly to himself and slapping sand and dust from his sleeves.

Dancer surged from his table. ‘Where have you been?’

Wu froze in mid-stride, mouth open. He brought a hand to his chin. ‘Well … I should think you’d know.’

Dancer waved that aside. ‘Yes, yes. What I mean is, you’ve been gone for ages. Without word. Leaving the rest of us to manage. I had no idea when to expect you, or even if you’d come back at all!’

The lad’s wrinkled old man brows rose. ‘Why, Dancer – I had no idea you cared.’

The fury that this ridiculous fellow was able to raise in Dancer almost choked him. Through clenched teeth he ground out, ‘We’re supposed to be partners…’

From across the bar Grinner called, ‘Could you two take your lovers’ spat upstairs?’

Dancer shot the swordsman a glare, then gestured Wu to the stairs. The mage shrugged and headed up.

Shutting the office door, Dancer turned on him. ‘Don’t you ever—’

Wu shot a finger into the air with a grin that looked rather evil and maniacal on his wizened features, ‘Progress, my friend! Great progress!’

Dancer stared, stunned for a moment. ‘Really? Progress? How so?’

Wu brushed more dust from his dark jacket. He glanced round, spotted a carafe of water on the side table and took a long drink. Swallowing, he gasped, ‘The gate. I think I may have it…’

Dancer eased into a ready stance, his shoulders falling. ‘Really? It’s open?’

The Dal Hon mage raised thumb and forefinger to his eye, a fraction apart. ‘One smidgen from it.’

Dancer leaned back against the door, looked to the ceiling. ‘So … it’s not open.’

‘It will be!’ the mage insisted. He swallowed another mouthful, then waved a hand and started rummaging at the desk. ‘That’s why I came back. To get you. For the last stage.’

‘So I’m supposed to be grateful?’

Wu was studying a handful of his notes and drawings. He peered up, blinking. ‘Well, yes. But not just that. Together we’ve managed to overcome all obstacles to date. Your muscle and my brain!’

Dancer felt the hackles at his neck rising. ‘You mean my muscle and brains and your … insanity.’

The little mage looked offended, and sniffed, ‘I think not.’ He pulled a satchel from beneath the desk and shoved a handful of the papers into it. ‘We’ll need food and water.’

Dancer raised a hand. ‘Whoa. Food and water for what?’

‘For the journey. Who knows what we will find?’

Dancer crossed his arms. ‘No. Not tonight. You need to rest and we both need to prepare. In a few days. Okay?’

Wu hugged the satchel to his chest, his mouth agape in disbelief. ‘What? A few days?’

‘That gate’s been there for what … a millennium? It’s not going anywhere.’

‘But…’

Dancer raised a warning finger. ‘And no sneaking out without me!’ The little mage thumped down into the chair, the satchel still clutched to his chest. ‘Good. Oh, one last thing. Word’s come that the Twisted is up for sale. What do we do? Do we have the funds?’

Wu nodded absently, pouting, his gaze on the cluttered desktop. ‘Yes. I believe so. Arrange a meeting here tomorrow.’

‘Good. I’ll put Surly on it.’

Wu stirred, half-heartedly raising a finger. ‘Be seen ordering her and the others around. It warms the locals’ hearts to see the Napans being bossed about.’

Dancer nodded, thinking, And I wonder how Surly will take that? Maybe she’ll actually see the sense in it. ‘Okay. Tomorrow, then.’ He nodded his goodbye and pulled the door shut behind him. He would have locked it if it had a lock on the outside. Shaking his head, he went to find Surly.

After making the arrangements, he thumped back down at his table. It was long into the night when he finished the last blade.

*   *   *