The kings mage starian c.., p.24
The King's Mage: Starian Cycle #5, page 24
“What?” Marius staggered forward. He was a pretty man, like most nobles, pampered and well cared-for, though his clothes were filthy and his brown hair was disheveled and just a little too long over his eyes. He squinted at the lantern, and just like the moths that flung themselves at the glass, he raised a hand to touch it.
Ranger jostled the branch, and Marius jumped as the lantern bobbed wildly on its chain. The movement also dislodged the lever Ranger had rigged when he hung the lantern, and Marius yelped as the net hidden under his feet snapped up around him, lifting him into the air. Dead leaves and bits of bracken went flying everywhere, and Marius cursed as he went swinging in the net, one foot sticking out of one of the holes and his hair covered in dirt.
“Hello, beautiful,” Ranger said.
Marius stared at him like a deer caught in a trap, spinning slowly in the net. Ranger knew what he must have looked like; He was taller than most Starians, with the olive skin of his Katoikos mother and his father’s dark red hair, a combination that didn’t show up often in that part of the country. He wasn’t dressed for the weather like Marius, either--he liked the cold, and his tendency to wear the Thalassan style open sashes and tunics meant that the string of colorful beads looping over his right arm was clear to see in the false moonlight.
“You’re a Misthotos,” Marius said. Ranger held up his arm and gave the beads a shake. “Oh, fuck me.”
“No thanks, sweetheart, I don’t fuck my contracts.” Ranger leaned down to haul up the lantern as the net continued to spin. Marius wriggled, trying to get a better look at him--or escape, it was hard to tell. “You’re Marius Chastain, right? I have to ask, just in case.”
Marius’ boot fell off as he tried to yank his foot back in the net, and he stared down at it with the forlorn look of a kid who dropped their shaved ice on the boardwalk. “What if I said I wasn’t?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.” Ranger blew out the lantern, leaving them in the dark. “You can give me a false name if it makes you feel better, but it won’t do anything.”
Marius sighed heavily. “No. There’s no point in it, is there?” He tried to smile as the net spun round again, but it was a little dampened by the fact that he was, at that moment, upside down. “I could pay you more than whatever your client is paying you, you know.”
It was unlikely, even if Ranger hadn’t heard some variation of that line a dozen times before. People always started bargaining when they realized they were caught, and it never did any good. For one, Marius was a traitor to the crown--whatever funds he used to have were probably someone else’s problem, now. For another, the second a Misthotos took a bribe, their bracelet was cut and they were banned from taking another contract. There was a wall of names in Naimi, the city where the Misthotos kept their beads and contracts, and Ranger wasn’t eager to add his own to the list.
“I’ll settle for you not making a fuss when I cut you down,” Ranger said, and wrapped the chain of the lantern around his wrist. He reached for the rope keeping Marius aloft, and cocked his head. “Ready?”
“What? No. No, I’m not.”
“Rhetorical question,” Ranger said, and untied the rope.
Marius yowled like a wildcat as he dropped half a foot, shedding leaves, and several night birds took off in the trees around them. Ranger winced and held onto the rope as he dropped off the branch, and Marius yelped softly as he jerked another inch. He started spinning again, faster this time, and Ranger rolled his eyes as he slowly started lowering Marius to the forest floor.
“You’d think you never stepped into a trick rope before,” he said.
“Why on earth would you think I would?” Marius cried.
“Yours was a deprived childhood, I can see that already.” Ranger’s father was a fisherman, the kind who went out on a board early in the morning and speared fish that would have much preferred to spear him, and Ranger had grown up hauling nets and setting traps. He doubted someone like Marius Chastain had actually hunted or trapped anything in his life.
“I feel as though I should warn you,” Marius said, as he was jerked and bumped towards the ground.
“That you have friends with power? I’ve heard that one, too.” Ranger let him down another foot. “Or is it that you’ll be agreeable and charming until I give you the chance to escape? That won’t happen, either. Most of the people I hunt don’t stay agreeable when they find out I’m not interested. The last one tried to bite me, can you imagine?”
“How terrible for you,” Marius said, and yelped again as he dropped. “Can’t you just let me down all at once?”
“And have you crack your head? No.”
“Spirits save me, you deserve it. I won’t say a word,” Marius snapped, which was a curious thing to say, up until Ranger heard the crack of branches behind him. He turned, and Marius thumped the rest of the way to the ground as the shadows in the distance started to shift and move.
“Ah,” he said. “You’re being followed.”
“Yes, so let me out of here,” Marius hissed.
“Shh. Be quiet.” Ranger added a touch of dominance to his voice--he didn’t like to, usually, it always felt so at odds with the way he liked to do things, normally--and Marius stopped thrashing in the net. The shadows darkened, and Ranger swung the lantern from its chain as two figures appeared beneath the trees.
“Oh, good,” said one of them. “You caught him for us.” Marius made a soft, whimpering sound, and the man strode forward. He was a Starian, with pale yellow hair and a pink face, and he held out a hand in greeting. Ranger didn’t take it. “Name’s Brent. That’s Rudy. We’ve been tracking this one for about two days, now.”
“Good to know, Brent,” Ranger said. “But I’m the one who caught him.”
“Sure, and we can split three ways,” said Brent, and stopped as his friend yanked him back, whispering frantically. His gaze went to Ranger’s beads, and Ranger yet again raised a hand so they could see. The chain of the lantern was wrapped around his arm, and the lantern bumped softly against his leg.
“Fuck,” Brent said. “A fucking Misthotos.”
“In the flesh.”
“Look, there’s two of us,” Rudy whispered, a little too loudly. “We can take him, kill the noble, and be on a cart to Duciel tomorrow.”
Marius made another choked sound behind him, and Ranger raised his eyebrows.
“You know I can hear you,” he said. He looked back at Marius. “You heard that, right?”
“I would very much like to be kept out of this,” Marius said.
“Two ways it is, then,” Brent said, and there was a silken sound as he pulled a blade from its sheath. Rudy took out a knife, and Ranger looked down at the lantern hanging from his right hand.
“All right,” he said.
Ranger hefted the chain, hauling out at Rudy as he darted close. The lantern dented as it struck Rudy in the jaw, and glass and warm wax went spraying over the grass.
“Fuck!” Rudy went to his knees, holding his face with both hands. Ranger stepped around him, and Marius started thrashing in the net again.
Brent was more careful, eyeing the lantern as Ranger swung it slowly, building momentum. It was hard for even a good blade to strike true with an iron chain wrapped around it, and when Ranger threw the lantern right into Brent’s path, Brent’s sword went clattering with it, a misshapen bundle of iron and steel.
“He broke my fucking jaw,” Rudy howled, as Brent backed up, gaze flicking between Ranger and his friend.
“I’ll leave you with enough money for a healer if you turn around,” Ranger said. “Or you can see what I can do with a knife.”
“Take the money,” Rudy said, and Brent rocked on his heels before he cursed and raised his hands. Ranger dug into the inner pocket sewn in his tunic and tossed a few coins at Brent, who dropped most of them.
“That should be enough,” he said. “Sorry about your face.”
Brent spat at Ranger’s feet, but Rudy was, it seemed, the brains of the operation, because he had already scrambled to gather up the gold and was dragging Brent back into the shadows, whispering in his ear. Ranger watched them go, then slowly backed up, turning to where Marius was tangled in netting on the forest floor.
“Why are you like this,” Marius whispered. He flailed in the net, but stilled when Ranger untied it and grabbed him by the collar of his filthy shirt, dragging him to his feet. Marius’ legs were still twisted up in the rope. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Well, if I did, they’d only get you again,” Ranger said. “But if it helps, it isn’t personal. It’s business, Mister Chastain. Nothing more.”
“It’s Lord--” Marius stopped, closing his eyes. “Never mind.”
“We’ll figure out what to call you later,” Ranger said, patting him on the shoulder. “For now, we should hurry. I give it about ten minutes before those friends of yours change their minds, and I’m all out of lanterns.”
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Iris Foxglove, The King's Mage: Starian Cycle #5
