NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: The Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 4: The Hunt)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: DRAMRATH

Gods, Hontiresk has become truly insufferable in the time since I been away, I realise now. Not by becoming more irritating, or more highly-strung, or more paranoid, but just by becoming even more frustratingly reasonable than ever before. After Kesla Shoon and her companions just vanished right in front of us outside the stage door entrance to the Playhouse, and I went back upstairs to have another crack at confronting him over his idiotic choice to actually give that monstrous witch Vandryss free reign in their little ... enterprise, he just smiled as I railed away at him while his bodyguards just studiously looked away around us, letting me wear myself out. Then he just nodded and apologised for her behaviour, before simply waving it off as an unavoidable consequence of his current business, and even as I protested he acted as if I was entirely overreacting. It was as though she'd merely undercut a business rival in a deal in an underhanded way, not used some twisted, demonic magic to murder dozens, maybe hundreds of people over the course of a single night.

Honestly, I could've punched him on the spot, I was certainly tempted. Maybe in the hope that it might actually knock some sense into him, but realistically I doubt that would work. He's always believed in his own surety above all others', and it looks like that's just grown more ingrained the greater the power he's managed to amass for himself has grown. I can't overlook the possibility that Vandryss might have played him in some way, maybe influenced him with the dark magics at her disposal, using them to control him like a puppet, but the more I look at this the less I believe that's really the case. He's too much like his old self for that to be the case, just as smug and self-important and convinced that he's in the right. Which means whatever hold she does have on him, it's a good deal more insidious.

In the end my protestations seemed to fall on deaf ears, and he sent me away, more brusquely than I'd like. Like always I had to hold my tongue, and I just shoved right past Gubal without a word, not even looking back even though I did feel a little bad, afraid I might say or do something that I really couldn't take back with my blood so very up as it was. Instead I just stalked off with Trouble having to genuinely scuttle along to keep up, and at least she had the good sense to hold her tongue as I led the way round backstage again. Making for the back entrance into the cellars.

At least the two former pirates on the door had the good sense not to try and stop me when they saw my face, instead just stepping aside while one of them gave the lever-catch a good yank and slid the door aside for us both. I didn't stop until we were both through and it was rolling closed again behind, then I hissed a long, angry curse under my breath that felt worryingly hot while smoke plumed in front of my face. Trouble just stood by with her head bowed and her jaw tight, hugging her sword tight to her chest as she stood by with her back right against the wall.

She gave me a minute or two to just gather myself again, working hard to get my rage under control along with the fire churning in my core, before finally pushing away from her wall and taking a few very careful steps towards me, holding her hands out in supplication. I held my breath and just let her come, maybe clenching my jaw tighter than was really helpful but I really didn't want to lash out, and when she finally took hold of my wrists I let her start to talk me down the rest of the way, the way she does sometimes. At least she held short of actually hugging me this time, I'm not sure I was really ready for that under the circumstances, but then she was already looking to head off down the stairs anyway, mindful to lead the way this time. I followed without any argument.

It felt no better returning to this place than the first time we got down here, the stink of terror all around us as we started to navigate our way past the various cells working at my nerves as effectively as if someone had died down here. It took a little time to locate Jammund, we finally found him in the deepest part of the lowest cellar, at the end of a low, gloomy passage ending at a now open, heavy steel door leading into what looked like some kind of dim tunnel stretching into cold darkness. He was speaking with some of his people, while others were moving in and out of the tunnel, those venturing in carrying something I couldn't identify, either bundled in ratty tarpaulins or packed in tightly nailed boxes.