Part 7: Into the Underworld

Chapter 71: Regret and Confessions

Razia snuggled backwards into Quentin, pulling his arms tight around her. She was awake, more or less, but she didn’t want to be. Being awake would mean dealing with the previous night. It would also mean moving from her spot when all she wanted to do was soak in how nice it felt to be curled up against him, how natural. Sometime during the night Razia had shoved the pillow away and used his arm instead. Before she got up, she wanted to memorize the moment, hold onto it as long as she could.

“I know you’re awake,” Quentin whispered in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “You’re only relaxed when you’re asleep. Awake, you fidget.”

She stretched, looking over her shoulder. “You’re one to talk. You’re the tensest man I’ve ever met. Until you’re out, then you’re snoring and dead to the world. How long have you been up?”

Quentin smiled, looking down. “Long enough to enjoy it, but not so long that my need to get up beats everything else. This is…I didn’t think it would ever be real.”

Oh, the answers she could give to that. She settled on playful for a start. “It’s real, but it’s going to become more real. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting? A girl has needs.” Razia rolled over and smiled sweetly at him.

At first, he had the familiar look of surprise and eagerness. Then his face hardened and he pulled away from her, sitting up. “Before we even think about anything more, we need to talk about last night.”

There was the other reason Razia didn’t want to be awake. Every minute she could put between her and having to face the aftermath of the attack was more time she had to try to process things herself. She sat up as well, swinging her legs over the side. Her feet dangled several inches above the ground. “Yeah, I was expecting that. How are you doing, Quentin?”

He took a long, deep breath, looking away from her. “I’m not sure. I lost my best friend. It hurts. It hurts and I don’t know what to do about it other than just wallowing for a while. But I can’t afford to do that, can I? I’ve got to worry about the next attack. And the one after that. Your past keeps coming back for us.”

There it was. Razia nodded, hugging her sides. “Yes. Yes it does. And it’s not fair to you or to anyone else. I’m so sorry, Quentin. Demetrius was…That’s my fault.”

“Yes,” he said, turning to face her with a haunted expression. “It really was. We got careless and the bastards after you found a crack and slipped in and nearly got you. It’s going to cost the girls, it’s going to cost the business, and it’s already cost me the only friend I had before I met you. Who else is going to suffer because of what you did? Gods, I don’t think I even know the extent of what you’ve done.”

Hearing him acknowledge it hurt, but it was a hurt she had coming. The longer she worked with him, the more all of her past antics seemed so foolish, so risky. They had been, and that was the point. It was one thing for her to have to pay for her actions, but having others get it instead of her…If she was a worse person, she might’ve felt invincible. Sitting next to Quentin, she definitely didn’t feel that.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” she said quietly.

“I want to know everything that happened between you and Piro and why he’s after you,” said Quentin. “I need to know everything that might come up after us again if I’m going to keep us safe.”

He may not have known it, but this was about as good a punishment as he could’ve given her. Several months now she’d run from Piro and made a new life for herself up in the northern half of the city. In that time, she thought about it as little as possible. Thinking about it meant realizing how fragile her safety was, and it made her remember the things she did. Where would she even start?

“It’s a bit of a long one,” she said. “I’ll tell you what happened from the start, but you might want the broad strokes at first.”

Quentin nodded at her, crossing his arms over his chest and watching her silently. His hawkish face was as fierce as it ever got, and it felt weird being on the receiving end of it after all this time.

“When I first got to Orchrisus, it was to try to claim sanctuary in the Temple and become a priestess. You know this already. I did it to try to escape my father, and an arranged marriage. I was to become the trophy wife of a rival trade prince. His third wife, which my bastard father thought was appropriate. My own mother is his third wife,” she added at Quentin’s questioning look.

“Any spouse past the second is considered for entertainment and producing more loyal family members to build up a healthy crew. I was trained from…No,” Razia shook her head. “That can come later. Point is, I came here for sanctuary. When I didn’t find it, I took my two handmaidens and sent them off on different ships with a good portion of the money we had for the trip. My father’s men went after them, leaving me to live in Orchrisus now. Down in the south side.

“I’m under no illusions that I’m a good person, Quentin,” she said, feeling a bit of a sting. Mostly, she knew she had to be truthful, now more than ever. “What I was trained for was to butter people up and get information out of them. To be a pretty face who was obedient to my father and anyone I was working for at the time. When I was here in Orchrisus and out from my father’s control? I may have misbehaved a bit. First taste of true freedom and all.”

Quentin almost smiled, but grimaced. “You’re going to call it misbehaving when there is a trail of bodies because of this?”

Razia flinched. “That’s…That’s all it felt like at the time. I had a bit of money, and I used it to drink and have fun and doll myself up so I could get into whatever party or event I wanted. I used my skills, my charms, everything I had to just have fun with someone else paying the bills while I took my own private tour of Orchrisus and fell in love with the city. I was selfish, reckless, and cruel. I didn’t care who got hurt so long as I was having fun and could just…keep that up. And then I met Piro.”

Probably the biggest mistake of her life, now that things were piling up. And a hard one to try to explain, if not justify. There was no justifying her behavior or the effects it had on other people. There was no making up for it either, a dark part of her whispered. Maybe she wouldn’t be a shade, but her atonement would be a long one and probably worse than whatever Piro and Christophe planned to do to her before they killed her. Quentin might’ve been the only thing that could stand between her and that fate, but after all of this maybe he wouldn’t want to.

“It was in a tavern that belonged to his gang, the Warlords. I didn’t know it at the time. To me it was just a place to get a drink and dinner before I wandered the streets for the night and found something better to do. He came in with his men and one of them tried to get grabby with me. I pulled a knife on him and shoved it up against his balls.” She smiled, in spite of herself. “He didn’t appreciate that, and none of his friends could make a move without being the reason for losing his bits. Piro came in and offered to swap spots with him. If I was still mad he’d be the one to lose his balls.

“I thought there was no way he’d do it, but he’s…For being an absolute monster, he can be really charming. Eventually he and I were laughing and I put away the knife. We drank and danced and…Well, got together. When we woke the next day, he took me around and showed me his setup. Dozens and dozens of men under his command, striking fear into the hearts of merchants and anyone who looked at them wrong. And he walked around with me on his arm, showing me everything. He knew what I was, but he wanted to keep seeing me. And I agreed.

“At first it was just small parties, meetings where he and Christophe would choose targets and send their men out to make some trouble. Christophe never wanted me there in the first place. He hated me.” That was an understatement. Of all the things she regretted, him escaping justice was probably the biggest. Razia could deal with Piro, knew how he thought. Christophe was a bloodthirsty beast. “He’s…In some ways he’s scarier than Piro. Those men last night were probably hand chosen by Christophe.”

Quentin’s hands twitched, like they wanted to grab something and squeeze them. He nodded to show that he was listening, but otherwise stayed as silent and still as a statue.

“At first I was just there to enjoy the sights and be arm candy. And the parties got wilder. Eventually Piro had the idea of me charming some of his rivals and sending me over as a gift, with the goal of fucking them over. I thought that idea was fantastic, and we went for it. It…It worked.” Razia took a deep breath. “I’m responsible for several of them being killed. They weren’t good people, and I don’t feel bad about them no longer being around. But it was because of me it happened. As far as I’m concerned, I murdered them.”

That made Quentin stir. “It’s not the same,” he said. “Guilt happens regardless, but it’s a much different thing to actually take a life than to just think about it or make it happen. Have you ever killed someone yourself?”

Razia sighed. “Once. As I was leaving him. I’ll get to that. After the third target, I was pretty well accepted among his men, save for Christophe and a few of his most loyal. The community started to know me and reaching out to me to ask things of Piro, or to give gifts so we wouldn’t mess with them. And I started to revel in it.

“I was born into a wealthy family on Nalek, one of the Dell Archipelago’s biggest islands. I had everything I needed and wanted, but it was all based on my father’s wealth and power. None of it was because of me, I was just reaping the benefits of it. Here, in Orchrisus, I had started making something of my own. It was working with a gangster, having fun and living without inhibitions. I felt free. I felt alive. Me and Piro were an unbeatable team, and Christophe hated that.

“The way I understand it, they’ve been best friends since childhood. Christophe is a giant and was raised on the streets and Piro showed signs of being a shaper early on. They were the terror of their neighborhood, and that only got worse when they grew up and Piro came back from a magic school on the other side of the continent. Me entering the picture, I guess it made him feel left out or left behind. He got increasingly belligerent about me and hated how I would give my ideas and opinions on his plans. He badgered Piro until he got what he wanted.

“In the middle of an open party among the different rival gangs to discuss peace terms, Piro turned on me. I gave my opinion like I always did, and he turned around and started yelling at me. Horrible things.” This was the ugly part she re-lived more often than everything else. “About me knowing my place, being only good for my ability to fuck on command, and how he was tired of me trying to act like I was anything other than his whore.”

“That’s when you decided to betray him,” said Quentin. “I remember you telling me some of this, when you first moved in.” Maybe it was just her imagination, but he looked more severe by the minute. This wasn’t going well, but now that she started Razia couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

“Yes. We’d always had an…intense relationship. Big passions meant great times and awful times. And this was the most awful he’d ever been, just to try to look good in front of his best friend. I knew what it was at the time, but he turned me into a laughingstock in front of everyone I’d spent three months impressing. So I decided it was time to move on, but I’d get him first.

“I acted like I was properly put in my place and waited. I let three weeks go by being the perfect obedient whore while I plotted. I decided on my course of action, and when they were going out for a job one night, I stayed in and struck.” She tapped her neck and said, “Piro’s got this talisman he made. He’s not a very powerful shaper, but he’s a good artificer. He enchanted his talisman to be a better focus for his magic, and it hides him from magical spying. Other shapers and speakers can’t track him with it. I took it, a bunch of shards, and information about a job coming up and I left.

“That’s when I got caught, and killed the man who tried to stop me. I didn’t mean to, but if he stopped me I was as good as dead.” Razia could see and feel it fresh in her mind. The way that the knife had sunk into him, the look of surprise on his face and the way he fell to the ground. She wanted to ask, suddenly, when the guilt for that would go away. When the nightmares would stop. She was afraid of the answer. “I stabbed him and ran north.”

“You gave the talisman and information to Cicero,” Quentin said, understanding what came next. “That’s the deal you made with him, isn’t it? His protection, your overall safety, for an enchanted necklace and information Cicero could use to hurt Piro.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” said Razia, half smiling. “Mr. Cicero listened and agreed, and even hooked me up with the Silk Lounge. I got to know the North for the month before I met you and spent a night or two a week working there while I explored and just…Tried to live without causing too much trouble. Until Otho fucked up. And here we are.” Now that it was all out, it was all on Quentin.

He kept her waiting for a few minutes as he mulled it all over. His hands were on his knees, gripping so tight his hands shook. When he did speak, it was slowly and carefully, like he was trying not to lose control. “What I’m getting out of this,” he said, “is that you came to town, found a dangerous and powerful man to hook up with and hide behind, and then burned him when things got bad. And then you came north, and found a dangerous man to hook up with and hide behind, and also rebuild the reputation you lost. Is that right, Razia? That’s what I was afraid of in the first place.”

She flinched. “It’s not like that with you,” she said.

Quentin snorted. “I bet Piro thought the same thing, didn’t he? I bet everything was great until it wasn’t. What’ll it take for you to do the same to me? If I piss you off or even just disappoint you, are you going to just pack up and leave me to deal with your problems?”

“No Quentin, gods, I --”

He stood up suddenly, making Razia cringe away. There was no way that he would hit her or harm her in any way, but seeing him worked up like that, knowing she was the cause was agony. His face went through a cycle of grimaces and pauses, like he was going to speak but thought better of it. His shoulders slumped and he sighed.

“One of the first things I thought when you first propositioned me was that you pitied me, or wanted something from me. Maybe that wasn’t true at first, but it became true later, didn’t it? Once you knew who I was, and what I was. You even said so when you showed up at my door and asked to stay here. Gods, I must’ve been your easiest mark ever, right?” Quentin buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. “You could lead me around by the cock without ever having to actually touch me.”

“I want to touch you,” she said, eyes burning. This was going all wrong. Her every instinct told her what was coming and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want any of this, but she deserved it. “I want to be with you. That’s not a lie. I’ve been honest with you since I moved in. Gods, Quentin, you’re the only stable and consistent thing in my life.”

“Honest, huh?” Quentin looked at her with such contempt, such anger, it nearly broke her right there. “Then why haven’t you told me about the real deal you made with Cicero?”

Her blood turned to ice. “What?”

“The deal you made with Cicero when you took him into your room. I may be your current dumb muscle, but I’m not stupid, Razia. I knew what you were going to do in there. I told you no, and you don’t like hearing that. Not when you’ve got your mind set on something.”

What else was there to say? “I was going to tell you,” she said, looking down. “Not yet, but I was. I was going to see about us connecting with more of his people, and then once I showed you how helpful it could be I was going to tell you everything.”

Quentin turned away from her and grabbed his boots. He slipped them on and grabbed a fresh tunic and belt. He didn’t care that she was there with him exposed. That more than anything told Razia how badly she fucked up. “Then tell me now. What did you promise him?”

“Names only,” Razia whispered, wringing her hands together. “Names of our clients, occupations, and who they saw and how much they paid. No direct information, nothing overheard or gotten through charms. Just a copy of records we needed anyway. He said he’d have one of his people working here for us for anything else he needed.”

He nodded, as if that was exactly what he was expecting. Without turning around he said, “I can’t be here right now. We’ll…We’ll finish this when I get home.” He walked out the door, leaving her behind on his bed.

When she was taken, fear devoured her and she spent the better part of an hour thinking she was going to die. Now she would’ve preferred that. The worst part of all of it was that Quentin wasn’t wrong. She did all of this, and most of it she’d justified or rationalized after the fact. Razia knew herself and her flaws. She was impulsive, she was reckless, and she hurt everyone around her. When Quentin got back, he was going to kick her out.

It would be so easy to run. Just steal some money, write an apology, and get the fuck out of Orchrisus for good. Start over in a new city, far from any remaining debts or grudges she left behind. It would be so easy, but Razia didn’t want easy. Not anymore. She wanted to fix things, to make them better than they were before. She had people now, people she cared about and wouldn’t screw over. Not willingly. That meant staying and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe with a little luck, Quentin wouldn’t hate her enough to hurt the others.