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The Drunken Dog is not my kind of dive. My usual hang out is the The Black Swan, which is a little shabbier but a lot more friendly once the locals accept you. A little shabbier but a lot cleaner. Pride and the Drunken Dog were not words that went together.

Gorst was here because despite being a despicable, skinflint cheating bastard he still needed to do business and his usual clientele wasn't going to be found in respectable dwarven establishments, not that they liked to have him their either. He was at his usual table with his back to the wall and two men in bad need of a degreasing as muscle. The third was a big mountain man from the other side of Fereldan whose beard didn't hide the axe scar that mutilated one cheek. He was wearing mail and carried a pair of axes which made him by far the most heavily armed guy in a dive where everyone carried steel.

"Gorst, you slimy father fucker," I called out by way of greeting. He scowled at me. Gorst had red-blond hair and beard, with the latter being tied in three braids. He wore a greasy tunic with fancy embroidery and silver thread at the neck and cuffs. "You owe us money."

One of his dogs took out a fourteen inch dagger and pretended to clean his nails with it. He gave me a smile that was missing a few teeth. The other didn't move. The mountain man's hands went to his axes. "Is that so Daneth?" Gorst asked with a smile. "That's not the way I remember it."

"I don't mind that you're a cheat," replied, "it's that you're stupid enough to think you can get away with cheating me."

Vari snorted out a laugh. "That's a good one. And true. Pay up Gorst or you'll be speaking to your ancestors real quick."

"You're going to kill me in front of all these witnesses?" asked Gorst. "I don't think so."

"What witnesses?" Vari asked. "I don't see any fucking witnesses." She raised her crossbow. "Now tell your pet Avvari to stop fondling himself or he's going to get another massive wound in the face, one he won't live through." Vari doesn't really care that much about money, well at least as much as another might think, but for a thief she's awfully prickly about her honour. Of course she carries a massive, rapid firing, engineer designed crossbow around so most people tend to indulge her.

Gorst was right though. There were too many witnesses for violence and the odds were too long. “This really the way you want to play it?” I asked. “Do you really want to push us that hard? Be smart. Pay us the back half.”

“You got paid what you’re worth,” said Gorst. “You don’t feel it’s enough, take it out of the knife-ears’ share.”

"If that’s the way you want to play it,” I said. “Let’s go Vari.” We backed away. No one gave us any trouble.

Once we were outside Vari slung her crossbow under her cloak. It was hot and sticky, with just enough of a breeze to make it bearable. “What now?” she asked.

I looked around, didn’t see any unfriendly faces or lurkers with blades. “We walk,” I said.

“Sure. We walk. What next?”

“He called the tune. We dance.”

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The Black Swan is worn, broken, and old. The roof has been patched and repatched. The chairs and stools are an eclectic collection of battered and repaired furniture and jury-rigged debris. The tables are chipped, scared, and stained collections of scrap cut and shaped into the form of tables. The floor and the crockery are clean and the cooking is pretty good, even if the ingredients aren’t always the best. There is pride here, pride that bends because it must but does not break.

Vari and I are welcome in the Swan not because we’re nice to elves, but because we’re in business with some. The Alienage has its own rules and those rules mean that we’re covered as long as the coin flows and the partnership lasts. Drinking at the Black Swan has the upside of being in a place where every enemy I have is unwelcome and sticks out like a sore thumb. If I’m going to slow my reflexes and addle my head with wine, that’s the best kind of place.

"Let me guess,” said Andula with a sneer, “he didn’t pay up.” She glared at me, her sky blue eyes bright and hot above the scar that ran the length of her right cheek and touched her lips. She wasn’t beautiful, but if was her hatred and unreminting harshness not her disfigurement that killed her looks.

“Easy,” said her brother. “I’m sure Daneth did his best.” He was blond where she was dark, but their faces were much the same. Minus the scar, of course. Andula kept her hair back in a braid that I suspect Vari had copied from her, exposing her ears to the world while Lauthen kept his hair loose and around chin length. Of course their height and slight builds told the world that they were elves, no matter how well Lauthen hid his ears.

“She’s right,” I said. “I wasn’t smooth enough. Not this time.” I sipped some wine from my cup. It was pretty good, in part because a quarter of the elves in the Alienage were hip deep in the smuggling trade in one form or another.

“So now can we fucking kill him?” Andula asked. “Do we have the permission of our exalted leader to bleed him in the streets.”

I didn’t rise to the bait. Andula hates the world and for a lot of it I can’t blame her, but it makes her difficult. She has useful skills though, and she comes as a package with her brother. “Yes,” I said. “But first we’re going to make sure we get what we’re owed, plus interest. Then he dies, dies as badly as our sweet Andula wants to make it.”

“Are you sure?” Lauthen asked.

“Cheated too many people too many times. Plays both sides of the law and thinks he’s untouchable. Insulted us in public. He’s coasting to a fall, but if he goes down ugly after that, well then in the future our rep will do half our negotiating work for us.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’m in.”

“What first?” asked Vari.

“What every hunter does,” I replied. “We stalk our prey.”

We have a foot stuck in every puddle. Through Vari we have dwarven merchants and their double dealings and the Carta, through Andula and Lauthen we have the elf smugglers and underground and through me we have all sorts of kind and wonderful people. So we set our contacts to work.

Gorst had Carta and merchant contacts and the dwarf population was too small for their to be many strangers so that was out, but this was a human city. Beggars and thieves, labourers and craftsmen, guards and priests. Okay, not too many contacts among the latter, but the rest could serve. A few coins and the promise of a few more and we had eyes.

Killing Gorst in broad daylight was too brazen to be practical and his house had doors and windows that were barred on the inside so slitting his throat while he slept was out as well. That was our problem. His was that he had to do business and that meant going out.

Gorst made his money in the cracks between the legitimate merchants and the Carta. He fenced stolen goods and dealt with smugglers, reselling goods to less shady merchants and customers who were not overly burdened by scruples. He also dabbled in theft, which is why he owed us a not inconsiderable sum for us creating a distraction. All of those activities meant he had to go out and work his contacts.

Of course we couldn't get too close now that we had blatantly threatened him with death, so we could took turns running our spies while we got a sense of his routine. Vari took the first leg of running our spies and I took the second.

I half watched from a few blocks away as Gorst visited people on the docks. I rarely caught a glimpse of him, but I didn't have to. Between the urchins, the beggars, and the elves there were always eyes on him and those eyes were mine. He headed home and I switched out with Lauthen.

Next day he stuck to the same schedule, working the dwarves in the early parts of the day and heading down dockside in the afternoon. This was looking like it was going to be easy, sticking a knife in him and his guards at dockside or traveling to or from. Easy easy.

Then he headed back uptown after just barely getting started. So much for easy. I munched on an apple and followed at a distance while a scrawny red headed kid followed his boys close. He was heading uptown, where money flowed. The streets got cleaner and the buildings got larger and nicer. I followed at a distance.

I missed the guards until they got close. I saw them alright, but I didn't clue in to that they had their eyes on me until we got close. By then I got a good look at their faces. I didn't know the young guy on the left, who was tall in a rawboned kind of way. The son of a bitch on the right I knew all too damn well.

"Daneth," said Edwin. "You scrawny little fuck, what are you up to?" His voice sounded friendly, but that was a lie. He wasn't a particularly big man, maybe a little taller than average and stout, but more than made up for any deficiencies in size with cruelty. He was a sadist and as corrupt as they come. He wasn't pretty either, with a much broken nose, missing teeth, perpetual stubble, and breath that reeked of garlic. He was twiddling that axe handle truncheon he liked so damn much from a leather strip around his left wrist.

I stepped back and said "nothing much," while angling for a nearby alley. There was no percentage in fucking with the guard, especially in front of witnesses and with one that new who I was. Running beat fighting and it wasn't that great an option at this point.

"You lying fuck," he said while lunging forward with the truncheon. He tagged me hard in the shin and knocked me down. Maker, it hurt. I tried getting back on my feet but I got his boot to the chest for my efforts.

"I think you've been threatening respectable merchants in this city," he rasped and then kicked me in the stomach. I tried to roll with it and the leather jerkin I wore ate some of it but I was still groaning in pain. "Merchant Gorst ain't happy and we can't have scum like you making respectable people unhappy."

Oh Maker. Gorst had either come to his senses and decided we were a risk or, more likely, just paid off Edwin because it was cheaper. "Go ahead junior," said Edwin, "put a boot in. Shit like this needs to learn its place."

He stabbed at my groin with his truncheon, but I twisted enough to take it on the hip. Still hurt though. He kicked me again and then smacked me in the shoulder. "You want the alley?" Edwin asked. "Let's go. Spare the ordinary folk the disgusting sight that you're going to be."

Maker. The guards grabbed me by the arms and half dragged me into the alley. My shin still hurt. I tried to get my feet under me, succeeded, twisted and bolted. Almost made it. That fucking truncheon tagged me again and down I went.

"Running," Edwin tisked. "Disrespectful. Going to have to go harder on you for that. You always were a stupid little shit Daneth."

I tried shielding my head from the blows that came and it felt like he set my arms on fire. He kicked me hard, again and again. I felt ribs break. I coughed up blood and he laughed and hit me again. My arms were like lead, I could barely raise them. The truncheon hit the left side of my face and then his boot hit my jaw. I spat out blood and he hit me again. Teeth came out with the blood. Oh Maker, the pain.

They hit me again and again. I felt bones in my right hand break. From far away I heard a voice, "that's going to put a cramp on your thieving ways." Then I felt pain explode on the side of my head and then nothing.

I could hear a voice speaking softly, or perhaps distantly. I ached all over, but I wasn't in any serious pain. I rolled over and opened my eyes.

The room was dark, with only a single tallow candle providing any light. The bed I was on was just a thin mattress on a slat raised on crates. The room was small and barren. There was a mostly empty bookshelf and a small table, which held the candle and an open book. Sitting at the table was Andula.

One candle wasn't much to read by, not that I was very good at reading, but elven eyes are better in the dark than those of humans. "Awake I see," said Andula. The gloom was too thick to make out her expression, but I didn't need to see it to know. It almost never changes.

"How bad?" I croaked.

"Need some water?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She left the room and came back a moment later with a clay cup. I ran my tongue over my teeth. It seemed I still had them and none of them were jagged ruin. "Here," she said and lifted the cup to my lips.

I sipped the water. "Now as far as how bad, that depends. Now, you're pretty good. Even managed to repair your teeth. Back when my brother and Vari dragged your ass in here you were barely alive. If the runners had been a little slower in getting the word to them there wouldn't have been anything I could have done."

"Thanks Andula."

She didn't smile. She never smiles at me. At her brother sometimes, not often. "Go back to sleep. There's only so much I could fix and I'm only wrecking myself for you once. You need time."

She went back to her book and I slowly went back to sleep. There was daylight streaming through the window when I woke up. Lauthen was sitting on the chair. I groaned and shifted.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," said Lauthen. "It looked like you were going to get a personal audience with the Maker when we found you."

"Not that lucky," I mumbled. "Then the hurting would be over."

"True," he said. "They beat the shit out of you. Broken teeth, crushed hand, broken ribs, broken jaw, the works."

"It was Edwin," I said and rolled over. I ached more, if possible. It wasn't pleasant. I stopped moving.

"So the little birds said," answered Lauthen. "Which makes it tricky."

"No trick to it," I said. "He's a guard. We can't touch them." You don't touch a guard or the rest of them kick the shit out of you or worse. No exceptions. Maker knows that Edwin isn't the only corrupt piece of shit on their payroll.

"Didn't think you would see it that way," said Lauthen. "With your shining knight ideals, bloodymindeness, and flaming temper and all."

"Oh he'll pay," I said. "When I've had time to think about how to do it, which I'm not inclined at the moment. But fuck him. He wasn't doing it for free. Gorst wised up and realized we were a problem."

"So the respectable merchant bought a notoriously bent guard. Damn, that's not a bad plan at all."

"Gorst isn't a guard. He's up to his eyeballs in shady deals. Lots of suspects when his body washes up on shore."

"Or is found in a pool of his own blood. His muscle isn't bad though."

"Have to wait until I heal up," I said. "Run the little birds and see if he changes his routine much. If he doesn't, there are places to stick the knife."

"Yeah," said Lauthen. "How do you feel?"

"Glad to have an apostate in the crew," I replied. Safer than saying anything else.

"My sister," he began and then stopped. "She does care," he said simply.

"Yeah, I know." But I'm human and that's that. Maybe things would have been different if that day had never happened, but maybe that's wishful thinking. Doesn't matter now. Those days are gone and so the boy that had those feelings and the girl he had them about. All the knife work in the world won't change what happened. That I can be sure of because Lauthen and I got bloody to the elbows and then some.

We didn't talk about it, of course. We talked around it sometimes, but that was it. Funny thing is that I know it will never happen, but I'm not quite over her. Lauthen knows it too. We don't talk about that either. Truth is that recuperating in their house is the only time I'll ever spend in her bed and we all know it. "Thanks, both of you, for watching over me. And for saving my life."

"What are friends for? I'll go get you some food. Then we'll talk plans." He left the room and I laid back down. There were so many things in the world I hated. Injustices large and small, every bloody day. They hung over us like storm clouds. Most I couldn't do a bloody thing about but not give in to the bastards. Edwin and his ilk. Every bloody law and every bloody boot on my friends' necks. The way the coin rolled uphill to the rich and the shit ran down onto us. The way they had swords and armour and we had knives.

But Gorst was a different matter. Him I could see a way to make pay. A way to kill. A way to make him scream and scream as his life bled away into the gutter. Him I could get my hands and blades on. More than money, this is what I lived for. Taking down those bastards whenever one fell into my reach.

I flexed my right hand, the one Edwin had smashed. My fingers were a little stiff, but they moved alright. I could hold a knife. Didn't need much more.

Turns out I was wrong. We decided to do Edwin first.

On the second day of my recovery I was up and walking around a bit. We had a meeting around the dinner table to talk strategy.

"Edwin goes," said Vari. "No one does that to us. No one ever," she said.

Lauthen and Andula exchanged glances. "We're not a bloody carta," I replied. "I want him to bleed, but he's a guard. We can't kill him."

"We can," said Vari, "as long as it doesn't look like us."

"Something happens to him," said Lauthen, "and they'll come looking."

"If he gets stabbed in an alley or gets his skull bashed in with a rock, sure," agreed Vari amiably. "But it's going to be hard to settle up with Gorst when he's got a guard on his payroll, a guard that already knows us. It gets a lot easier if he's out of the way. What happens if he gets sick? People get sick all the time."

There was another exchange of glances, this one positive but hesitant. "Go on," said Andula.

"Any doctor will know the symptoms of common poisons," said Vari, "but uncommon poisons is another matter. There are fungi that grow in the Deep Roads that no human who isn't a Grey Warden will recognize. I just happen to have some. One in particular will cause the victim to suffer chills, sweats, fever, and seizures. Sometimes they live. I doubt a human will, but even if he does he'll be down for weeks recovering."

"So how do we get it to him?" asked Lauthen.

"We have to put it in his food," said Vari. "That's the only hitch."

"Hmm," replied Lauthen. He drummed his fingers on the battered table.

"He eats out a lot," I said. "Free. Or else he makes more trouble than it's worth. We need a distraction he won't recognize once he's sitting down and someone else to slip the poison in his food."

"All us dwarves look alike," said Vari with a grin. "A little disguise work and no human will recognize me."

"And the distraction?" Lauthen asked.

"Let me think about it," I said. "We should have our little birds learn his route."

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It took five days and by that time I was back to practicing with weapons. Edwin liked to cage a meal at the Sleeping Dog and given the quality of the Sleeping Dog's stew I couldn't blame him. He and his partner got a table all to themselves, because no one really wants to come to the attention of a violent, corrupt guardsman. Except us, of course.

I had to stay behind because he would probably recognize me. Vari had died her hair blond, put on a fake beard, bound down her breasts and was wearing a thick tunic. It was very convincing. She headed into the Sleeping Dog first.

The second bit of the plan I really did not like. Oh sure it was likely to work, but it was also likely to draw far too much heat. I was over ruled.

As Vari was getting a bowl of stew, Andula walked in. She was fairly tall for an elf and wearing high healed boots, so she could pass as a human woman with her ears hidden under the cowl of her cloak and half of her face hidden by a scarf. She bumped into Vari and Vari snarled at her. She replied with a universal rude gesture and Vari drew a blade, fourteen inches of dwarven steel.

Andula responded by extending a hand and unleashing a blast of fire. Vari was already diving away, of course, so no one got scorched but the whole tavern was in an uproar. Andula was already legging it out the door and trying to catch an elf with a head start is very, very hard.

She ran through the alley next to us and scattered the caltrops we had fashioned from nails. No one was even close to her. We got away clean.

Inside, Vari had dived in the direction of Edwin, who managed to get to his feet after a moment. He went outside and a few pieces of fungus fell into his stew as Vari passed her hand over it on her way out the door. Edwin stopped for a moment, didn't see Andula, and then went back inside the Sleeping Dog.

We waited.

Gorst didn't do much to change his routine. Every couple of days he shuffled between his shady merchant meetings and his shady gangster dealings and visa versa. He pretty much took the same route every time. His muscle went everywhere with him and with two knifemen and a huge fucking Avvar watching his back he had every reason to feel safe. Except if a dwarf, an elf, a human, and an apostate mage decided to ruin his shit.

A few more days of waiting gave us little after mid-day he moved down from market shops towards the docks. Our little birds who had been our eyes and ears got the word to scatter and we moved in for the kill as he moved through the unpaved narrow streets and alleys of the poor part of the city. He might spot us before we made contact, but that wouldn't save him. Dwarves do a lot of things well, but sprinting isn't one of them. Ours was packing a crossbow, which made the point moot. Vari didn't have much patience for "this running bullshit," as she put it.

We ghosted out of the alley we were hiding in and crossed the street, moving fast but not too fast. The day was drizzly and over cast and we had hoods up and scarfs covering most of our faces. I hadn't drawn steel yet, but it would take just a heartbeat. We came up behind them and closed just after then started down a side street.

There was a decent amount of room to move in as the road wasn't too narrow. Tenements leaned on either side and the street twisted to the right about a score of yards down and then straightened out. One of the knife guys checked his back and his eyes went wide. So much for stealth. Time for murder.

Knife guy was yelling and drew a dagger. My blades came out, sixteen inches of sharp steel that it wouldn't be wise to shave with but would keep their edge when they hit armour. The others were turning and reaching for weapons. They were so slow. Everything was slow but the beat of my heart and the blood rushing in my veins.

My lead blade was a feint and it took his knife out of position. On a dueling floor it wouldn't have fooled anybody, but we weren't safe rich boys holding practice steel. He had a second to act and fear riding on his shoulder. My right hand sword took him in the face and into the brain. He went down and pulled me with him.

The other knife man was stumbling near to me and panicking. I booted him out of the way as I yanked my sword out of the dead man's skull. He stumbled back and fell and that's when I noticed his shoulder was stained red and their was a bolt in it. The way was clear for me to go after Gorst, who was standing there with his mouth wide open and nothing coming out.

The way was also open to the Avvar and Maker take him, he decided to defend his boss. He came, axe in each hand and a roar echoing from his throat. Lauthen danced in and tagged him with his sword, but he was wearing mail under his loose tunic and the blade didn't bite. Graceful as a swan and as fast as cat he got out of the way of the axe that came for him. Of course that meant his attention shifted to Lauthen and away from me and gave me a small opening. I had never needed more.

I didn't need to kill him. In a few seconds Andula would hit him with a spell or Vari would reload her crossbow and his days would be over. I just needed to keep him from going after them with his axes so they had the time to finish him. Short sword against mail isn't what I call a winning proposition, but his legs were only protected by thick leather breeches. I darted in, fast and low. I drew blood, stabbing into his calf and pulling back. He wouldn't be charging anyone with that wound. I back stepped, breaking away from the fight. No point in taking more risk.

The Avvar was a head taller than me and his axes had better reach. He managed a single step after me, but that was enough. An axe came down with his weight behind it. I tried to parry. It was like trying to parry an ogre with a broomstick. He knocked the sword out of my hand and the axe hit below my left shoulder. For a moment there was pain like I can't begin to describe and then everything was red and I was falling.

The ground was hard and I hit my head on something. It hurt a lot. I couldn't breath. I blinked one or twice and could see out of my right eye. The other was was full of blood. I saw the Avvar get painted in frost and then take a blade in his neck. Gorst turned to run, but he only made it a few steps. There is no way this side of the Fade that a fat dwarf is going to outrun an elf who still has the use of both of his legs. The pain was fading a bit, but I was getting cold. I was lying in a spreading pool of red. Maker take me, it was my own blood. Funny huh? Maker take me? He is going to, in just a moment.

Andula's face appeared, close up and upside down. There was something about her eyes. Tears? My vision is getting blurry. Maybe that was it. I heard "I'm sorry," from a long way away. I tried to reach out with my right hand, but it wouldn't work. Nothing-