CH652 · Rewrite
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Chapter 652: The Witch and Accident

Leaving the limestone cave, No. 76 took his hand and led him through the dark without slowing. Yorko could barely make out the ground beneath him, but the guide moved with unhesitating confidence. He felt the calluses on her palm — dense and hard, nothing like the soft hands of a hostess. Her build was slight, but the grip was iron. Whatever else her job required of her, she was clearly also a guard. A woman worth training was a woman worth owning. He found himself wondering if Otto might be convinced to part with more Black Letter.

Hill Fawkes was clever enough, but he was his old friend’s man first. And there was something intrinsically limiting about a male guard, a certain dullness to the arrangement. No. 76 would be a much better fit.

Of course, this was idle speculation. The Black Letter wasn’t his money, and 4,000 gold royals was already far past Otto’s intended ceiling. Spending more on a private whim would be the kind of thing that soured a relationship with one of Dawn’s three great families.

Beyond the auction chamber, most of the passages turned out to be natural formations; torchlight brightened in the narrower tunnels and faded in the wider ones. Shafts in the ceiling showed dark sky above. Where the caves widened, the limestone had been converted — rough hotels carved into alcoves, barrel signs hung outside what appeared to be taverns. An underground town, complete in miniature. Without a guide, a man could wander here for hours.

“By the way, how does payment work?” Yorko asked when they were alone in a narrow passage.

“Pass me the invitation letter before you leave the underground, after you’ve confirmed the goods are satisfactory,” No. 76 said. “I’ll complete the procedures. And if you’d like to extend your stay — we have a pub, a casino, hot baths. Black Money provides whatever’s needed, for pleasure or rest.”

“Everything is tallied in the Black Letter?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone wanted to purchase the guide?”

“500 gold royals, paid to Black Money.” She answered as smoothly as if she’d been asked the same question a hundred times, which she probably had. “Did you want to, Sir?”

“It’s not the length of time that makes for good company,” Yorko said, sidestepping the question. “It’s the quality of it. Don’t you think?”

She laughed. “You’re right.”

“May I at least see your face?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A guide may not remove her mask privately — only if purchased. That’s the rule.”

“But you mentioned any service—”

“Of course.” She touched the edge of her painted lips, a gesture that was all flirtation and no concession. “That doesn’t prevent me from serving you, Sir.”

Yorko felt the evening improving.

“We’re here.” She stopped before a wooden door at the far end of a carved passage, the number 76 cut into it matching her own number. “The room divides into outer and inner chambers. I’ll sleep in the outer room. Call me whenever you need anything.”

He opened the door and looked. “This is the outer room?”

The outer chamber was barely large enough for one person, the floor covered with a thin layer of wheatstraw. It was not unlike a stable stall.

“It’s difficult to find appropriate rooms underground,” the guide said, without apology, and opened the inner door.

The inner room was no larger — just enough for a wide bed and two soft chairs.

“Mmm! Mmm!”

The witch from the auction was shackled to the wall, both arms and both legs spread wide, a length of white silk stuffed in her mouth. She struggled when she heard someone enter, terror bright in her eyes.

Yorko’s mouth pressed flat. He’d imagined at minimum a cage in a separate compartment. This arrangement made a very particular kind of evening impossible.

How exactly am I supposed to spend a pleasant night with No. 76 while a bound witch watches from the wall?

The answer was that he wasn’t.

He remembered Otto’s instruction: earn her trust. That was rather more complicated now.

“Does Black Money have other rooms?” he asked. “The kind with additional charges.”

“Certainly. We offer semi-open houses nearer the surface, and rooms adjacent to the underground river.”

The ingenuity of it — carving luxury out of limestone and charging accordingly — was genuinely impressive in a way that also made him want to complain loudly to Otto about it later.

“How much is the cheapest?”

“Three gold royals per night.”

Three gold royals was half a month at a decent hotel in Graycastle’s king’s city. But compared to 4,000 gold royals, it was rounding error. Yorko decided Otto wouldn’t mind.

“Go wait outside for a moment,” he said. “I have something to say to the witch. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Yes, Sir.” No. 76 withdrew, pulling the door closed behind her.

The moment he moved toward her, the witch’s struggling intensified. He stopped, shrugged his coat from his shoulders, and draped it across her body.

“Listen to me. I was sent here to rescue you. As long as you don’t make noise, no one will hurt you. Everything will be fine.” He kept his voice slow and even. “Nod twice if you understand.”

She went still. She stared at him for a long moment — not believing, just measuring. He repeated it, a little more softly, watching her face. She was very beautiful, with a young girl’s quality to her features that was not his preference.

She nodded.

He reached out and worked the silk free from her mouth.

“Who are you?” she said, after a small cough.

“Someone here to help you.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you have a name?”

“Amy.” A pause. “If you’re here to save me, why won’t you let me go?”

“What if you run? I don’t have another 4,000 gold royals if they catch you again.” He spread his hands. “Staying chained keeps you safe and raises no suspicion. I’ll release you tomorrow once we’re out. All right?”

“Really?” Suspicion hadn’t left her eyes.

She’s gullible enough that someone reported her, he thought, and yet she still looks at me like that. He kept his expression patient.

“Not only that — I’ll take you somewhere witches gather. Companions, safety, no more hiding.” He stood. “Wait until morning. Can you do that?”

“Wait — where are you going?”

“To enjoy my evening.” He grinned at her.

He turned toward the door to call No. 76 back.

And then a sound came from the outer room — a dull impact, and the heavy fall of something solid, and then silence.

“No. 76?” he called.

Nothing answered.

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