Death and Honor: Book 1 of 2 by James Wisher Page B

Jeremiah. “Say hello to Alexandra for me.”
    “I will. Next time I come to the city I’ll bring her and the boys.”
----
    E ric Ericsson sat in a dark corner of a rundown tavern, a tattered cloak with the hood drawn up hid his face from prying eyes. Not that any of the drunks or addicts gave him a second look. In a place like this minding your own business was good for your health. The pickpocket would arrive soon then he could leave this dump.
    Fifteen minutes later the pickpocket ducked through the door. He spotted Eric at his usual table and rushed over to join him.
    “You’re late,” Eric said.
    “Hey, you want the information or not?”
    “Fine, spill it. What happened?”
    “Happened? Nothing happened. He went to Tristar’s warehouse and returned their stuff, then he wondered around for a while. After a while he went to Alzado’s place.”
    “Alzado?”
    “A sage. A really old sage.”
    “What happened there?” Eric asked.
    “They talked for a minute then went inside. An hour or so later the guy came back out and went to the mansion.”
    “That’s it?”
    “That’s it.”
    “All right, get lost.”
    The thief ran like a kicked dog. He had a little information at least, enough to keep the demon off his back, he hoped. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The contact came in an instant, the demon anxiety coming through as a nasty pain behind Eric’s eyes.
    Well ?
    “Your mercenaries are in my jail. Jeremiah brought them in this morning.”
    The package ?
    “I don’t know. He returned the merchant’s goods to them so it’s possible your package was there. He also visited a sage, why I have no idea.”
    Find out, order this man to tell you .
    “I can’t order him, Jeremiah out ranks me.”
    Then what good are you ?
    Eric winced as the pain behind his eyes increased. “You have more information than you did,” he said.
    Yes, barely, enough to make me worry. You’ve done enough. I will handle things from here. Tomorrow you will report the sage’s death as a robbery .
    Eric swallowed. “Yes, master.”
----
    T he master was in a foul mood, Ick sensed it from his perch on Gorn’s massive shoulder. The great, golden serpent that was Slevas favored form slithered back and forth across the smooth tile, every few minutes looking at the lesser demons like a real cobra might a mouse. A mortal would never guess from looking at the trio that the eight foot serpent commanded a demon the size of Gorn, but Ick knew better. In a race as physically mutable as demons, size meant nothing. Magical power decided who was master and who servant, power and intelligence, Slaves had these in abundance.
    Ick was growing impatient; they’d been waiting for the master to speak for over an hour, not that the little demon would say anything. If the master wished them to stand and watch him slither then they would stand and watch until the end of time.
    Slevas reared up four feet off the floor, his hood flaring. I have decided. Ick, you will sneak into the merchant’s warehouse and search for the package. Gorn, you will go to the sage, find out what the human Kane wanted then kill him.
    Ick flinched as an image of the warehouse appeared in his mind. It was small as such structures went, but it would still take most of the night to search it. A thousand deaths on whoever shielded the chest from his magical sight.
    Ick launched himself off Gorn’s shoulder and flew out one of the windows in the hall. Calling on his innate magic he shifted his form to that of a bat and flittered his way across the city. A few minutes later he entered the warehouse through an open vent high in the rafters. Once inside he shifted again, this time into a rat, he’d noticed over the years that humans seemed to regard rats as another bit of the city scenery. Though the warehouse was dark Ick had no trouble seeing the stacks of crates, piles of cloth, and boxes, boxes, boxes. A little rat sigh escaped the demon. It was going to be a