The Sword of Wisimir

Chapter 4: Dead End (Part 2)

"Where's the money!"

Jarno drove his fist hard into a fat stomach. Grett, the man on the receiving end, doubled over and sagged forwards. Jarno pushed him off, and the man collapsed onto the wooden floor.

They were in a backroom of a small warehouse on the Southside. Through the thin walls, loud cheers and shouts echoed from the room next door. A dog fight was being played out and dock workers bet their meagre pay on a bloodied survivor.

Half a crown had bought Jarno the time and space he needed, enough to ensure no questions would be asked. The room had a table, two chairs and thin walls with no windows. Perfect.

"I don't know," Grett blubbered, tears streaming down his face. "I really don't!"

For a moment, Jarno felt sorry for him, then he remembered, Grett was a moneylender.

"You have to know. Any lowlifes suddenly close their tallies?"

"No! I swear it, Gods, please!"

Jarno considered hitting him again, but decided it wouldn't do any good. Instead, he pulled up a chair reversed it and sat, looking down at Grett.

"Lynchpin tells me you're the biggest lender on the Southside now."

"I guess I—"

"And quite a little workhouse you got going for the people who can't pay."

"It's a legitimate business!"

"Until we say otherwise and shut you down."

Grett looked up at him and smiled through bloodied teeth. "You can't do that!"

Jarno leaned closer. "You bloodsuckers need to get with the game. If some dock monkey found the Governor's taxes, you've either lost a customer or you'll be hiding a rival."

Grett looked him square in the eye. "I swear to you Watchman, that kind of money hasn't hit these streets."

"Then where is it?"

Grett swallowed and tried to look dignified. "I told you, I don't know."

Frustrated, Jarno tried another tack. "What about if a racket like yours got hold of a few hundred crowns, what would they do with it? What would you do with it?"

"But I haven't got—"

"I didn't say you had, just give me an idea."

Grett wiped his face with his shirt. "If they didn't have to use it, they'd sit on it. Trickle the money down."

"And what would happen to the finder?"

"Big reward or dead, I reckon."

Jarno nodded and stood up. "That's what I thought too. Thank you and sorry for taking up your afternoon."

"What? That's it?"

"No need to waste anymore time, unless you got something else to tell me?" Jarno headed for the door. "I'd take a minute before you head out though. I doubt you'll want your customers out there to know you've been crying."

He made his way out of the backroom, the dog baiting crowd fell silent as he passed, noting the badge and black. He met every stare with a hostile one of his own until he reached the entrance and then backed out into the street. As he walked away he could feel eyes boring into his back. Let them stare.

He turned a corner and two men were standing in the middle of the road, both carrying heavy wooden cudgels and heading right for him. The rest of the street was deserted.