Trading Knives

Paugren grinned. "I can handle this man and his hirelings. They think I've no stomach for them but they don't know I've taught you everything."

Corgren found his shirt as his brother exited the room. Paugren was his teacher and sparring partner - as well as his brother. He was good but Corgren was better. It took a firm stomach to manage Corgren's bouts as much as it took him to fight in the ring. It was tough but lucrative. Far better than being a laborer for Hartians.

Later, Corgren stood in the dark street with the Hart River but a stone's throw away. Moored trade and fishing boats bumped the wharves. Paugren was taking too long. He turned to go in search of his brother. Someone moved in the shadows. He touched his knife-handle. "Who's there?"

A man in a cloak stepped closer, hands in front of him. "Easy, I mean no harm."

Corgren glanced behind the stranger. He might not do him harm but he might be the distraction for fellow ruffians to attack. No one else was there. "What do you want?"

The fellow stood straight and looked Corgren in the eyes. "I saw you fight, well done. You are good - and lucky, friend."

Corgren sniffed. "Thanks but there's no luck to it. And we're not friends."

The other man's teeth flash with a smile in the wan street-lamps. "Perhaps not yet. But I can help you."

Corgren waved his hand with frown. "And want some money in return. Be gone before I try my luck on you."

The stranger shook his head. "I've come to make you an offer. Surely you wish to hear that you can have more than you are now?"

"We have enough."

"You think so? There are men who will make your bouts harder, demand more of your winnings as a cut. If you don't agree to their demands, they'll force it out of you or kill you."

Corgren leaned back against the wall of the building and crossed his arms. "That's nothing new. But how do you know so much?" Paugren might be in trouble but he'd find out what it was and then help his brother.

The stranger shrugged. "They're my men."

Corgren surged from his spot, grabbed the other man and slammed him into the wall. "What have you done with Paugren? Who are you?" He pressed the knife at his throat.

The other man pried Corgren's grip loose and pushed the knife-point away without effort. "My name is not spoken openly. Don't worry, Paugren is fine - enjoying a woman at the moment, I think."

Corgren took a step back. How did this man get loose from him so easily? "How do you know that." Just like Paugren.

The stranger sniffed. "She's mine too."

Corgren cocked his head and his eyebrows climbed. "Everyone is in your employ around here?"

The stranger chuckled. "It's not so simple - and no. But I know who works for me and what they're doing."

Corgren started to walk away. "I want none of what you're selling, whoever you are."

"Don't be so sure."

"What does that mean?" Corgren paused.

"I offer you much more than you have now or could ever gain fighting in the rings along this river. Money and power. Power, perhaps, to set the accounts straight between Hart and your own people in Rok."

Corgren crossed his arms. "What of that?"

The stranger straightened his cloak. "I saw your face. I know a grudge when I see one."