Mountain of Daggers Read Free

cousin,” Kazimir said, returning the pendant beneath his silk shirt. “We joined the Tyenee when we were young men. We moved quickly through the ranks, and within a few years he was sent to Mordakland to maintain our interests. Five years later, he vanished.”
    “And you were sent to Ralkosty?”
    The old man nodded. “I have been in this city for twenty years. Nothing happens here without my knowledge or consent.”
    Ahren couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. Scraps of boot leather and metal tools littered the table. Shoes of every size and style covered the unsanded shelves. The pungent smell of leather and stale dust permeated the small room.
    “I am a cobbler,” Kazimir said calmly. “Every man, no matter how rich, needs shoes. And mine are some of the finest in Rhomanny. Would you prefer I sit in one of the giant houses like the baron; inside my city, yet high above it, away from the day to day life?” He shook his head. “Too visible. Too disassociated from my streets. Too much opportunity for some young upstart to try to take over. No, I rule the city the way I want it, and will live in it to keep it that way.”
    “Why are you telling me all this?” Ahren asked. “You don’t even know me.”
    Kazimir smiled. He poured two glasses of vodka from a bottle near the edge of the table. “Because you can’t tell anyone. Ivan and Motya cannot understand us. They only know the symbol is important. With no one to go to, and no ability to communicate, you will be killed on sight if you leave this house, and the only reason I do not have Ivan cut your throat right now is because I believe your story and I believe I may have use for you.” He set one of the glasses in front of Ahren, and then downed his own.
    Tingles of fear danced up the back of Ahren’s neck. For a moment, he had forgotten how precarious his situation was. “I…I only want out of the city. Nothing more.”
    “I understand that. But taking you outside the walls will require payment, and I think you have the skills to pay that debt. Besides, by the way you limped in here, I imagine it will be several days before you can walk. I will have someone come and look at your injuries. In the meantime, I will find a suitable job for you to repay your debt, and make you more appropriate shoes.” He motioned to the glass Ahren hadn’t even touched. “Now drink.”
    #
    The foul smells and dingy streets were a quenching relief to Ahren. The woos of prostitutes and wailing songs of drunks had never been so welcome. Not even the long journeys aboard ship had been confining like the past four weeks trapped in a small room above the shop.
    He had spent his days listening to customers chattering away in their unknown language. Nights were most often the same. However, visitors instead came in through the back door to the workroom, their hushed voices sometimes escalating into arguments. By listening to their tone and applying his minimal vocabulary, he learned more Rhomanic over the first week than he had after years of sailing into foreign ports.
    Impressed with the speed Ahren adapted, Kazimir cut a small hole in the floor for him to watch and study the customers’ mannerisms. After his ankle and cut healed enough for him to come downstairs, he spent a few quiet nights with his host. Often the conversations were short, interrupted by an errant visitor, forcing him back upstairs into hiding to watch through the tiny spy hole.
    Ahren adjusted his wide-brimmed hat as he approached a pair of soldiers. They seemed more interested in beating a beggar child than they were in him. But there was no need for risk. His hair short and his newly-grown beard trimmed, Ahren doubted anyone but the baron would recognize him.
    The cobblestone streets widened as Ahren entered the noble district. The painted homes and shops grew larger, and further apart. No loud taverns cluttered the lanes. No beggars lurked in the alleyways.
    He stopped in an alley a block from the