The Shattered Crown

TWENTY-THREE

It wasn’t often Merrick found himself frequenting Crown District taverns. He was more used to the hovels of Northgate where you needed to wipe your feet on the way out, or the earthy, musky, fishy dens of Dockside, where the whores had thicker beards than the men. This place was like a sweet breath of air — all polished wood and crackling fire, with the stuffed heads of assorted game glaring down at him as he drank. Merrick might even have gone so far as to say that this was the best tavern he’d ever been in — if only the wine hadn’t been so bloody expensive.

Of course, the company wasn’t too great either; Merrick was all alone at the bar. He’d never been able to stand his own company that much. Being on your own wasn’t healthy; it made you think. And Merrick was in no mood for thinking.

He’d made a fool of himself in front of his father, though that was hardly surprising; he made a fool of himself on a daily basis. But he’d so wanted old Tannick to be proud of him.

Who are you kidding, Ryder. You’re a drunken ass. You’re selfish and vain and you’d stick it in anything that flashed you a smile. Hells, you’d fuck the crack of dawn if you could get up early enough. Why would anyone show you anything but contempt?

Merrick stared down at the goblet in front of him, then drained the dregs and slammed it down on the bar. He looked across the tavern, his vision starting to go a little fuzzy round the edges. This was the best kind of drunk — enough to take the edge off, but not too much to have him reeling around spewing vomit everywhere.

He knew he’d fucked up. He was supposed to be on duty, supposed to be protecting his queen, but here he was, back to his old tricks. He’d tried to stay sober, tried to do the right thing, but it simply wasn’t working. Now he’d let Garret down, let Kaira down … he’d let the bloody queen down. Just one big, long list of failures. Why would anyone think well of him?

What bloody good was he, after all? He could barely look after himself, let alone the queen of the Free States. Garret should have put him on latrine duty, not safeguarding the most important woman in Steelhaven. Then again, he’d probably have fucked that up too; covered himself in shit and piss most likely.

What was he good at anyway? What could he do better than anyone else? That wouldn’t involve people criticising him, or judging him, or looking down on him?

‘Drink?’

Yes, that was probably about it.

Merrick looked up to see the barkeep staring at him. He had a half empty bottle of wine in his hand.

‘Why not,’ Merrick replied and slid his goblet across the bar. The barman filled it almost to the brim. ‘Why don’t you have one yourself?’

The barman looked sheepish. ‘I probably shouldn’t.’

Merrick glanced around the empty tavern. ‘Why not? Expecting a rush?’

The barman looked across the empty tavern and shrugged. He took another goblet from a shelf and filled it with what remained in the bottle. Merrick held his up and they clinked them together before taking a swig.

‘Here’s to quiet days,’ he said.

‘To quiet days,’ the barman replied. ‘Though I’m not sure how many of those we have left.’

‘Not many, I’ll wager. So we may as well make the best of it.’

The barman nodded in agreement, though he didn’t seem entirely sure. ‘I should have left this place when I had the chance,’ he confided.

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘I have responsibilities,’ he replied. ‘People that rely on me.’

Responsibilities? Merrick knew about those all right and he was beginning to realise what a total pain in the arse they were. He had responsibilities that required his attention right now, but they somehow seemed unimportant next to his current woes.

There you go again, Ryder — always thinking about yourself. But then you’re the most important man in Steelhaven. Nobody else has as much on his shoulders as you, do they?

‘You’ve got family here?’ Merrick asked quickly, keen to clear his head of the daemons of his conscience. ‘Wife? Pups?’

The barman shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. But my old man’s frail and can’t travel. I have to stay and look after him.’

His old man? Bet he was a kindly old duffer too. Bet he’d always been there — a mentor, a confidante, a shoulder to cry on.

‘You two must be close then, if he’s the reason you’ve stuck around here for the Khurtas to arrive. That must be nice for you.’

The barman shot him a quizzical look. ‘Close? You must be fucking joking. The old bastard’s a millstone around my neck. I’m only hanging around for my inheritance. If I leave now I’ve got no chance of getting my hands on it.’

A smile of understanding spread across Merrick’s face. ‘I’ll drink to that, friend,’ he said, raising his cup before realising it was already empty. The barman grabbed another bottle and opened it, filling both goblets.

‘What about you then? What’s your problem?’ asked the barman.

‘What makes you think I’ve got a problem?’ Merrick replied.

The barman looked at him knowingly. ‘I’ve seen your kind a hundred times — drinking alone, when the rest of the city is going to the hells in a handcart. It’s like you don’t care. I’m guessing a woman.’

‘As much as I’ve had woman trouble aplenty — and you could say I’ve still got it — that’s not why I’m here.’ He looked at the barman, wondering whether or not it was worth the trouble of unburdening himself. But sometimes strangers were as good as priests for letting out your inner daemons — and they made you feel less guilty afterwards. ‘Let’s just say I’ve got troubles with my father too.’

‘Really? I bet mine are worse,’ said the barman.

‘I’ll take that bet,’ Merrick replied.

‘All right then. Ten coppers says the troubles I’ve got with my father are worse than yours.’

‘You’re on,’ said Merrick, offering his hand, which the barman keenly shook. ‘You first.’

‘Well, let’s see,’ said the barman thoughtfully. ‘He can’t shit nor piss on his own and he can barely feed himself. He pretends to be getting forgetful but he remembers where his coin’s hid, all right, and he’s got no intention of letting me in on that. All his assets — the house, the furniture, his stake in his business — are all tied up and if I don’t do exactly as he wants I’ll get nothing. How’s that sound?’

‘Sounds terrible,’ said Merrick. ‘But I reckon I’ve got you beat.’ He sat back, with a smug look on his face. ‘I hadn’t seen my father for about eighteen years — since he upped and offed — then he turns up out of the blue. Not only does he act like nothing’s happened in between, like he’s just been out for an afternoon stroll, but he also has the good graces to point out to me just how disappointed he is with how I’ve been living my life. It’s not like he just abandoned me and my mother — he has to condemn me for how badly I’ve done since then.’

The barman looked at him as though assessing his words. ‘Is that it?’

‘Yes,’ Merrick replied. ‘What else do you want?’

‘So you’ve never had to clean his shit up off the floor?’

They looked at each other for several moments before they burst out laughing.

‘You’ve got me there,’ Merrick said, fishing in his purse for the coins. ‘Here.’ He slid the ten coppers across the bar. ‘Hire yourself a maid.’

They both laughed long and hard.

‘Here’s to fathers,’ said the barman finally, raising his cup.

‘To fathers,’ said Merrick. ‘May they not burden us for much bloody longer.’

They clinked their goblets then drained them.

Merrick placed his cup back down on the bar, expecting it to be quickly refilled, but the barman was looking over towards the door. Someone had walked in. Merrick immediately felt on edge. As much as he hated to admit it, when he was outside the palace grounds he didn’t feel safe. It was dangerous being here, but he needed some respite. Just a little time away from the duty and the obligations. What harm could it do?

Well, it could get you stabbed in the fucking back by some assassin from the Guild, if you’re not careful.

Slowly he turned, half expecting to see some knife-wielding Guild bruiser coming at him with murderous intent. What approached across the tavern was nowhere near as ugly, but no less threatening.

Kaira stared at him as she approached. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes accusing. Merrick had seen that look before and knew it was no good thing to be on the other end of it, but he’d had enough wine not to care. He just offered her a weak smile as she walked to the bar.

‘Drink?’ he said, waggling his goblet as though teasing a dog with a bone.

Kaira slapped the goblet from his hand. It clanked off the bar, splattering the wood with dregs and causing the barman to take a step back.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ she said.

Funny you should ask — I’ve been wondering the same thing for days now.

‘Oh, calm down, will you. Take a load off.’ He gestured to a stool nearby.

‘Take a load off? Are you insane? We have a sacred duty. The queen trusts us, and here you are drunk. Will you never learn?’

Merrick rounded on her. What right did she have to come in here and bark at him like he was some child? He’d had enough of being told what to do.

‘Fuck you, and your fucking queen. I’ve had just about-’

She cuffed him round the head. Not hard enough to do any serious harm, but enough to knock him off the stool and send him reeling.

‘What the fu-’

She cuffed him again, this time with the other hand and he slid the opposite way. He felt himself getting angry now. The red mist descending, and the wine he’d drunk didn’t help any.

Kaira tried again, but this time he lifted an arm and blocked her, staggering away and righting himself.

‘What are you doing, woman?’

‘I’m trying to knock some sense into you.’

‘Sense? I’ve eaten shit for weeks. Done my duty. Paid for my sins and now my father turns up out of the blue and it’s like I’m nobody. You have no idea-’

‘I have every idea. You’re feeling sorry for yourself. The world is against you. We could be killed at any second and for no reward. I understand the notion of responsibility is a new one for you. I get that seeing your father again is difficult. But there are more important things at stake here than your feelings.’

‘Fuck off! What the fuck do you know?’ he screamed. ‘You know nothing about me or my father or fucking anything.’

She came at him again. He blocked the first blow but she hit him with the second. It slammed him back against the bar, his rib cracking against the wood. It only made the anger within him burn more brightly.

Merrick struck out. He’d never hit a woman before, but then Kaira was hardly your typical woman. She was a warrior born. He’d already seen her cut through half a dozen men like wheat. Merrick was sure as shit she could take a punch.

Unfortunately she took it better than he expected.

The blow hit her cheek, turning her head for an instant. Then she hit back. This time when she struck him Merrick could feel the weight behind it, the intent. He’d rattled her and no mistake. So maybe she was human after all. And maybe she could even be beaten.

Merrick went for her. He’d had enough wine to make this seem almost sensible, but not too much to make him a stumbling fool.

He put his head down, bowling into her and knocking her back. There was a scrape of the table legs on wooden boards and a chair fell over. Then she grabbed him and flung him aside. He smashed into more furniture, its clatter echoing through the empty tavern as he went sprawling.

As he scrambled to his feet he saw her coming at him, eyes like a wolf after its prey. He picked up a chair and threw it at her head. She deflected it with her arm but it put her briefly off balance, and then Merrick struck.

What he lacked in brawn he more than made up for in cunning. He’d been in enough bar fights to know there was no place for honour. And if you couldn’t win by foul means, there was no one going to make it bloody fair.

He took her around the hips, powering through with his legs and lifting her off the ground. They both slammed to the floor with him on top and he immediately tried a punch to her face. Kaira’s arms came up quick to block the blow, then her legs. She wrapped them around his neck, impossibly fast. It was as if he was watching all this happen to someone else only he was the one taking the beating.

Merrick managed a pathetic throttled sound as she squeezed his throat shut with her powerful legs. Panic hit him then as he realised he’d lost his edge. This was all he needed — to be beaten up by a woman in a bar … again.

As she squeezed tighter, his vision closed in. He desperately patted her thigh in submission, and she loosened her grip, letting him free. He scrambled away, raising his arms. ‘All right! All right, I give in. You’re right; I’m stuck here feeling sorry for myself when I should be carrying out my … duty.’ The word almost stuck in his throat.

Kaira breathed hard as she stood staring at him. There was no less loathing in her expression but at least she wasn’t trying to pummel him into the floorboards anymore.

‘It’s as simple as that, is it?’ she said. ‘Just an apology and a smile and everything’s forgiven?’

Merrick rose to his feet, dusting off his britches. ‘What more do you want? That’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.’

‘I want you to commit. Either that or leave — run away. You cannot go on giving yourself to this task half-heartedly. Sooner or later it will get someone killed.’

He wanted to argue that point, but part of him knew she was right. The longer he wallowed in self-pity, the more chance there was that the worst would happen. What was he even doing here drinking himself into a stupor, just when he thought he’d left all that behind him?

Maybe his father was right, after all. Maybe Merrick had spent his time hating the man for his scorn, when his father had been right about what Merrick was all along.

Take the offer and run away. Leave this place; run as far as you can.

And yet he couldn’t. The only thing keeping him alive was the Skyhelm Sentinels. There was no way he was about to throw that away.

Was this his one last chance to redeem himself … again? To get it right?

‘All right, you win,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

He turned to the barman, who was standing as far back in the corner as he could conceal himself. With an apologetic look Merrick fished in his coinpurse for a gold crown. He put it on the bar, hoping it would be enough to cover the damage he and Kaira had caused, then he quickly left the tavern without a word.

The street air made his head spin, but Merrick did his best to keep control of his faculties. As they made their way back to the palace he began to feel a strange sense of guilt and … was it shame? Maybe he was learning after all. He could only hope he’d have a chance to make amends, and in the meantime nothing would go wrong.