Poison Sidestory
Apr. 30th, 2007 06:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrAfter Andre insisted on stealing scenes, he obviously needed a story of his own to shut him up.
Really I suppose I should write one for each of them at some point.
Karp
"Scorch off, rat."
"I am not a rat, you copper-pinching meat-eater."
Karp was unfazed by the nasty glare being directed at him. He leaned back in the deep leather of his chair – well, technically the study belonged to Lord Kitty, but Ailill had long ago conceded Karp used it far more than he ever had. "I wouldn't pinch coppers if you'd stop going over budget, rodent."
Andre braced his hands on the desk and leaned over it, so close their faces were only breaths apart.
The proximity made Karp's nose twitch. Andre always smelled like flowers, something he generally associated with women. It should have been one more thing about which he could mock the scorching weasel – except it smelled good. Like wildflowers after winter is finally gone for a time, beaten down by spring at last. It had always been his favorite time of year. No girl ever smelled like that, they always smelled too sweet. That Andre did was rather puzzling, and no small amount annoying. He wanted badly to make fun of the man for smelling girly, but suspected the bastard would sense he didn't entirely dislike it.
Never let an enemy know your weaknesses.
"Give me a larger budget and I'll stop going over it! Your limits are ridiculous."
Karp smirked. "No." Honestly, he could adjust the budgets easily enough. Lord Kitty's estate brought in more money than anyone could spend. Except for Andre. The man spent money like it was water and he lived beside a river, which was why he was never going to increase his budget, no matter how easy it would be. "Your budget is not getting increased. If you'd stop buying all this stuff just to upset Lord Kitty, there wouldn't be a problem. Such extravagant expenditures aren't necessary." He spread out a sheaf of papers in front of him without breaking their locked gazes.
On anyone else he would have called those pale gray eyes pretty, perfectly suited to the sharp lines and angles of which Andre was made. Even his hair was cut sharply. The words pristine and perfect often sprung up in Karp's thoughts. Pale hair, pointed ears, eyes that never missed a thing.
If the man was not so know-it-all obnoxious and obsessed with buying obscene amounts of clothing and perfumes and all manner of frippery – because Lord Kitty flat out refused to do it himself – Karp might almost be tempted to stop tormenting the bastard and increase his budget.
As it was, this was his greatest source of entertainment. After taunting the Boss and Lord Kitty, of course.
Still glaring, Andre pulled back far enough to regard the papers Karp had spread out. "These are necessary expenditures. Do you know how often his Lordship ruins his clothing beyond repair? All of it must be replaced."
Karp snorted and once more leaned back in his chair. "Then tell Lord Kitty to stop shredding his clothes before he drags the Boss to bed or he'll be walking around naked."
"As if that would stop him," Andre said in disgust. He turned away. "Honestly, it's clear this house belongs to the criminal rather than the logical element."
That was going a little too far, even if Andre was only doing it to provoke. Sometimes Karp wondered – the man was more than a bit of snob, though not one of the malicious ones. Just the aggravating and confounding ones. "Mercenary I may have been, but I still know more about money and managing it than you, rat, so stop maligning me. If you've got such problems with 'the criminal element' I'm sure you're free to go to a more respectable household." Where the man would be put neatly in his place and given no liberties with the budget whatsoever. Andre would rather die than lose his little kingdom here – which meant he was stuck with Karp's budget.
It was good to be a ruthless mercenary, even if he was more like a…household manager of sorts, these days. What was the proper term for that? He thought counting coppers was usually the realm of the butler…but given the butler preferred to play dice with the cook whenever they could manage it….
"Since when are mercs such copper-pinchers," Andre said sourly, sitting gracefully down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk, crossing his arms and looking stiffly at Karp.
Karp rolled his eyes. "Plenty. Not all of us grew up with coppers to spare, and precious few of us were ever given permission to do as we like with the household budget. It's patently obvious, rat, that you've never had to be careful how you spent money."
"I have always earned every copper I make," Andre replied, eyes flashing.
Oh, good. The scorching ferret actually felt a bit of a sting.
If possible, Andre only seemed to sit more stiffly in his chair than before. "Aren't mercs supposed to be wealthy from doing the dirty work of the world?"
Karp gave a sharp laugh. "Wealthy! Ha! Your ignorance is showing again, rat. Do you honestly think that anyone who hires mercs to rob, steal, threaten, or kidnap would pay well for the deed? Hardly. We had to fight for every last copper."
Andre gave him a look of patent disbelief. "Kidnapping? I fail to see how the clowns about this house could have managed anything so complicated as a kidnapping. Nor do I believe for an instant that it doesn't pay well – that is the point of a kidnapping, after all, isn't it?"
"No," Karp said. "Most kidnappings are a matter of scaring the victim. Money is an afterthought, most of the time. Not always mind, and those were always our most lucrative jobs, but most kidnappings are nothing but a difficult way to make person C do what person A wants. We're just the middlemen doing all the work."
"Yet you make no money from it?" Andre asked skeptically. "Perhaps you are not so grand with the household accounts as everyone thinks."
"Maybe you should shut up for once, weasel," Karp retorted. "We're mercs, criminals – but not stupid. In cases where money is the goal, we charge ten percent of the ransom. Where it's not, we negotiate, factoring in complexity of the kidnapping, the number of days involved, worth of the item being obtained, risk involved – all sort of things. For simplicity's sake, the average ransom is 5,000 silver. Our standard rate is ten percent of the ransom, so 500. Everyone gets a cut of 25, except the Boss who gets 40. That leaves 325. In most kidnappings, we need horses. Cheaper to borrow by the day than actually own, and those go for about 3 silver a day. Times 6 for an average of 5 days – takes us down to 235. Most often these take place in the winter, which limits our ability to hide out in the woods and survive that way. Costing us room and board, which is generally 5 silver a day, 5 days, 25 silver, usually an extra ten for food for us all, so 35 silver. Leaving 200 total. That doesn't include money spent in the days leading up to the kidnapping, which with travel, bribery, another 75 silver easy. 125 left, and if anyone gets injured badly enough or we have to leave town in a hurry – we're lucky to be left with a profit of 50 silver. In nicer weather, we can often make 100-125 profit, but that's just saved up to tide us over in winter."
Andre sniffed. "Then why do such work, if it hardly pays?"
"Because my mother sold me to a merc band when I was six and the only skill I had until Ivan noticed my head did numbers rather well was with a sword. We weren't all born wearing lace, ferret."
"At least you've finally remembered what I am."
"Trust me," Karp said, "you're too obnoxious to forget. Now if you're done whining about the budget, scorch off and let me get some work done. I'll consider readjusting your budget when you consider taking more care with what you've got."
Andre smirked and stood up. "I take very good care of what I've got."
Karp rolled his eyes and did not dignify that with a reply.
He glanced at the clock on the mantle as the door slammed shut. Only just before the dinner hour; today's snit fit had been remarkably brief.
Which meant there was likely going to be a second round right before bed.
Not if he could help it.
Karp quickly put his desk to rights, made a few notes to himself on what needed to be done the next day, penned a quick mark that would let the others know where he'd gone, then abandoned his office to slip quickly out the front door. On the streets, he made his through the sections of the upper city and toward the harbor. Give him a seedy tavern any day over the fancy clubs and all the Boss was frequently dragged off to endure.
He slid onto a barstool worn smooth by years of use, resting his arms on the bar top and signaling for beer. It was a bit sweeter in Verde than he was used to, but after the weird stuff he'd drunk in Kundou – anything was better.
Sipping at his drink once it came, quite happy to slowly work his way to drunk in a place that would likely send Andre into a fit of apoplexy, Karp abruptly drank down his first and called for a second. Around him the number of patrons steadily increased, shifting from a vague and distant hum to a steady but ignorable drone.
The soft slide of fingers on his arm, warm even through layers of clothing, finally stirred him from somewhere deep into his fifth…or sixth perhaps…drink. He blinked.
"You look in need of company, handsome."
Karp laughed softly. "Handsome I am not, pretty miss, but I thank you all the same."
"Oh, but I think you are," the woman said, pressing gently against him, breasts soft against his arm. Boldly she leaned in and kissed his cheek, the scent and roses thick, almost but not quite drowning out the grimier smell of too many unwashed bodies in one small place, the tangle of sweat and smoke and alcohol.
"Thanks, pretty miss, but I'd prefer to be on my own tonight." He kissed her cheek and pressed a few coins into her hand. "Thanks, though. Have a good night."
"Indeed," the woman murmured softly, staring at him. She smiled faintly as she pulled away. "If you change your mind, handsome, just let me know. I'll be around." Then she was gone, vanished into the crowded tavern, and Karp returned to his drink.
Empty. He called for another.
The feel of her kiss lingered, but it wasn't her lips Karp felt. He took a deep swallow of his drink to try and banish the memory, but it wouldn't go. Fire and ash, he'd just wanted a relief from numbers and fights with that blasted ferret.
A tavern much like this one, but right along the sea, strong with the smell of roasting fish and fat meat buns. Alcohol that tasted like acid but had the kick of the stuff his homeland brewed.
The young, pretty girl who'd thought him worth a try. Long dark blue-green hair and eyes to match, a willowy figure hinted at by flowing dark red robes…a figure that beneath the robes had proven not to be that of a pretty young girl at all.
Karp groaned and called for another drink, tossing down coins, drinking deeply.
More and more often that night was coming back to haunt him. He should have fled in anger or panic, to discover he'd been tricked so…but he'd stayed. Fire and ash! Everyone knew the Boss had always preferred men…not so the rest of them. Karp had more than a few women keep him warm from time to time, not once in all those years…
Then he'd given in so easily to the pretty blue-green eyes and hair in Kundou, and ever since he'd had no interest in anything but reliving that one night while he stroked himself.
Worse still, blue-green eyes were being replaced by pale gray, the long, vibrant hair replace by short, pale strands, memories of a night spent in a small inn room turning into fantasies of locking his office door and find new uses for his desk.
Fire and ash, he should have drunk at home. Why had he come out?
Ah, yes. To escape the man who was plaguing him anyway. Scorching uppity bastard. How did a member of the working class, albeit a man who worked for and was highly trusted by one of the Beasts, get such a high and mighty demeanor?
Disgusted with himself, Karp threw down a few more coins and slowly slid from his seat, moving slowly to the door, ignoring everyone else.
Outside the late night was cool without being cold, sharp and crisp even through his drunken haze. He walked slowly, letting his thoughts drift a bit, knowing the way by heart. He paused as he came to a two-way intersection. One would lead to the middleclass areas of town and eventually to the business district. The other cut along houses that spilled eventually into the finer areas. He went left, toward the home of Lord Kitty, but two-thirds of the way there he lingered at yet another intersection, a split that led to houses not quite as well to do as those he was headed toward.
Somewhere down there, he knew, Andre had his own home. For whatever reason, he chose to keep his own quarters. He should—
Get home before he did something stupid.
Nodding at this bit of wisdom, Karp continued his slow pace back home, fumbling briefly with the door before stumbling inside and weaving his way to his room, having just enough strength left to strip before crashing into his bed.
*~*~*~*
"Rat, scorch off. I'm in no mood for you so early in the morning."
Honestly he was in no mood for morning, period, but he'd had a meeting with Lord Kitty's stock advisor – only for the man to send word he wouldn't be able to come today – and a mountain of paperwork besides. If he wasn't having far too much fun with all of it, he might resent Lord Kitty for so easily handing it off to him.
All in all, it wasn't a bad morning, he supposed. Minus the hangover. He just would rather be sleeping, but that would teach him.
Or not, but that was not the point.
The point was that Andre needed to go away.
"You closed my accounts, you obnoxious carnivore!"
Karp pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his pounding headache increasing tenfold. "Yes," he said slowly. "They will stay closed until you stop going over budget." He looked up gave Andre a Look. "And the clerks will listen to me, not you, so don't try to cozen them, rodent."
Andre sniffed. "I don't see why they're listening to you."
"I'm meaner, uglier, and hold all the purse strings," Karp retorted.
"Indeed," Andre said.
Karp felt a brief pang, and quickly squashed it. He was 33, long past something so stupid as feeling hurt that someone agreed he was ugly. He'd always been plain, it had actually helped make him a good merc. Looks like his didn't stand out. Dark hair, dark eyes…simple, clean, but ultimately forgettable features…and more scars than he could count anymore telling the history of his hard life. The only 'spark' to him these days was the occasional flash of the magic gifted to him by Raz.
Still, must Andre always be such a scorching bastard? The man was fine to look upon, but such a brat…
Though Karp knew he didn't mind the brat part so much, either. Lord knew he'd dealt with worse.
Wishing he'd just scorching stayed in bed, he made shooing motions at Andre, rather hating the man for looking so neat and tidy and perfect at barely ten in the morning when Karp had been willing to do nothing more than throw on breeches, a linen shirt, and his boots. Even now the laces of the shirt still gaped open, and if were awake enough to care he might feel ridiculous and inferior next to the bratty little ferret.
"Get out, Andre. I have work to do, and bickering with you is not supposed to be until after lunch."
"I have to go shopping," Andre snapped. "I cannot do that if you are cutting off my funds."
Karp rolled his eyes and stood up, determined to get rid of Andre and then go beg some coffee from the kitchens. "Andre, Lord Kitty's clothing budget is 8,000 silver a month. You have already spent 2500 and the month is barely half gone. I've no idea what scorching more he could need, but I can give you the funds and—"
"You have no idea what this sort of thing requires!" Andre interrupted. "It's impossible to guess how much I'm going to spend before hand, and I do not feel like trekking back here like some schoolboy to ask you for more funds. Though I'm sure you'd like that."
The response to that was too easy, and Karp did not give in to the temptation. "Staying under budget is a matter of discipline."
Andre made a face. "I have discipline. You simply have no concept of what it is like to shop for such things."
Karp smirked. "Fair enough. I'll go shopping with you today."
The look of horror on Andre's face was almost amusing – almost because Karp didn't know why the man should be so upset by such a notion, amusing because he really did look as though Karp had suggested Andre should shave his head. "You'll what?"
"I'm going shopping with you. If I see that you're correct in my misjudging the matter, I'll adjust your budget accordingly." Of course, he knew he wasn't wrong, he was most meticulous about such things – but maybe after this Andre would stop driving him crazy with the complaints.
Though…but in the end, it was best if the man stopped charging into his office.
"You are not going shopping with me," Andre said. "Not looking like that! They'll take one look at you and laugh us right out of the shops."
Karp frowned, stung. "Of course I wouldn’t go out like this – why must you always be such a scorcher? Keep your fur on, rat." Not giving Andre a chance to reply, he moved around his desk and stalked from the room, barely resisting the urge to slam his bedroom door.
He wasn't nobility, or even remotely close. He didn't even bother trying to be – it had taken a scorching amount of work before Lord Kitty's brokers and bankers and merchants had all begun taking him seriously.
Still, he didn't go around completely humiliating himself – and he could fake it well when he felt like it. Being an expert in kidnapping made one an expert at fitting in by default. Much harder to take his lordship if one looked suspicious slipping into the crowd of the house party.
Why must Andre be such a scorching brat about everything?
Sighing, Karp quickly donned clothes fit for going out. It was always strange to look upon the nice clothes he had now and think they were his, bought and paid for with the coin he earned regularly managing Lord Kitty's money.
Dark brown breeches and dark gold waistcoat, shirt and cravat of dark cream, a simple gold cravat pin, and his favorite boots, long broken in and fitted to his feet. He didn’t look anywhere near as fine as Andre, but he would pass inspection. The final touch was four knives – one for each boot, one in his jacket tucked against his chest, and the other slipped between his shoulder blades.
Venturing from his room, he returned to the study and ignored Andre to gather up his things, determined to make note of every last detail while on this expedition so as to have plenty of support the next time Andre stormed in to yell at him.
Finally ready, he turned to Andre. "Ready?"
Andre merely nodded, expression shuttered, and turned to lead the way out. Resisting the urge to provoke or taunt, knowing the day was already going to be a long one, Karp kept the silence as they walked until they reached the edge of the business district. "So where are we going first?"
"To the tailor's," Andre said, a frown on his handsome face. "His Lordship is attending the summer ball and his attire is nearly finished. I must inspect the progress."
Karp nodded and followed along, wrinkling his nose briefly as they entered the fancy, overblown shop to which Andre led them. The smell of perfume was thick and choking, and he wondered what such excessive scent was hiding.
He remained silent, however, as they were led to a small room and Andre began speaking quietly with a man who was clearly in charge. Introductions were briefly made, and Karp was pleased that Andre kept what precisely he did vague, more pleased still when the obnoxious man promptly dismissed him.
His own clothes had been made by a little shop much father away, closer to the poorer districts and nowhere near as flashy. They weren't as fine or fancy as Lord Kitty's clothes, but he liked the sisters that made his stuff much more than this man.
Karp stirred as something struck him. "You say Pozharian lace?" he asked, stepping closer to the other two, reaching out a hand to examine the lace they were examining.
"Yes," the obnoxious man said stiffly. "Some of the finest."
"I bet that goes for a pretty copper around here," Karp murmured. It should. This was Yellow Hill lace. They'd been hired to steal an entire shipment of the stuff once. Far more delicate than a lot of the lace in Pozhar; something about the Yellow Hill area lent itself well to it. "What is the cost?" he asked, just to aggravate Andre, knowing he'd be infuriated at such a tasteless question.
"Twelve silver a bolt, sir," the man said with a sniff.
Beside him, Karp could see Andre positively vibrating with anger that Karp would do something as rude as ask the price. Such things were not discussed.
"Twelve?" Karp repeated. "No wonder the budget suffers. Andre, you've already bought eight bolts of this stuff – why are you buying more?"
Andre frowned. "But – I've only bought six, and most of it was to repair damage to older garments. The stuff I'm purchasing today is for his new clothes."
"Six?" Karp asked softly. He opened his portfolio and flipped through the neatly arranged papers inside. "Yet I have a bill here that says you purchased eight bolts three days ago."
"I only bought six," Andre said, mouth tight.
Karp looked back down at his portfolio. "Damask – three bolts. Satin, four. Velvet, two. Linen, twelve"
"Two, three, one, and ten." Andre said.
"I see," Karp said. "No scorching wonder you were always going over budget." He snapped the portfolio closed and regarded the now panicked looking man before him. "I think it safe to say sir that you have been fleecing the White Panther of Verde for quite some time. What other Beasts are you cheating? Shall I inform them of this?"
"No-no, my lord, I assure you—"
Karp stepped closer, driving the man back, knowing from the way the scorching fool's face paled that his eyes were glinting with the flames of Raz's blessing. "I care nothing for your assurances," he said coldly. "Here are your options. We pay for nothing until such time as I say the money you have cheated from his Lordship is accounted for."
"You can't—"
"I can," Karp cut in. He moved closer, pinning the oaf against the wall, pulling the dagger from the hidden sheath in his jacket, pressing the tip to the man's throat. "I'm a Firelander," he said lightly. "We have very short tempers. You have angered me. Do not do it again. Now, this is what you're going to do – everything is free of charge until I say all is settled. After which, we will take our business elsewhere. Should you cause any further trouble, my fine friend, I can do a great of damage to your business." He slowly pulled the dagger away. "Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
Karp barely kept from sniggering. 'My lord.' As if. "Good." He turned to Andre. "Have you business left to conclude?"
"No, I think matters quite settled," Andre said with a sigh, then abruptly turned and left.
Frowning, Karp followed him out. He could tell by the tight set of that fine mouth that he was in trouble – but what else was new? "I am sorry for causing a ruckus," he said stiffly.
Andre looked at him, then looked away.
"So where are we going next?" Karp asked, wishing he could land upon the right thing to say.
Still there was no reply.
Fire and ash, women were easier to handle than this man. Karp frowned, thinking. "That lace is made in a small village called Yellow Hill, back home. Most of the women in the village make it, it costs them only pence to do it, and they make all the profit they need charging a silver a bolt to the traders who come seeking it. The village is remote, tucked into a corner with the Jagged Mountains on one side, the ocean on the other, and nothing but empty fields. Journeying there from the capitol is easily a three week journey on foot. Peddlers resell the lace for three silver a bolt to merchants in the city, who sell it for six to their customers…with tariffs and other such things, by the time it reaches foreign shores…"
Andre laughed softly, and his pale eyes were much brighter when he looked up again. "Yet you just accused him of being a cheat."
Karp grinned. "I never once said he wasn't being cheated – just that he was sloppy about cheating. It was his fault entirely for being that stupid. Never underestimate a man, be he friend or foe or stranger. So where are we going next?"
"That depends," Andre said dryly. "Would you rather terrify the milliner or the shoemaker?"
"Oh, I rather like the shoemaker." Karp looked down to admire his boots. "These are as fine as my leather ones."
Andre shuddered. "Leather. Abhorrent."
"Yes, well, not all of us have to worry about whether or not we're wearing our grandmother and leather is a sturdy material." Karp grinned. "Saved my life more than once, my old jerkin."
"I'm amazed you can settle into such a simple life as this, after such an exciting one," Andre said, looking out over the street, nodding to a few passerby, the streets still mostly empty at this hour – most of Verde did not begin to go out and about until shortly after midday.
Karp shrugged. "It's more fun playing with numbers and picking fights with ferrets than kidnapping brats and beating people up." He absently touched the spot where his dagger was hidden against his breast. "Simple is never given enough credit."
"Indeed," Andre said with another one of those sighs, and Karp wondered what he'd said now.
They'd been doing so well, and now it seemed he'd upset the man again. Confound it. He fell silent as they entered the shoe shop.
"Good morning, good sirs," the shoemaker greeted with a smile. "Andre, I see you've dragged along Master Karp. I've orders ready for the both of you, and Andre that next is nearly complete. Did you want to have a look?"
"Not at all, your work is perfect. I merely came to hear of the progress."
"Moving right along," the shoemaker said cheerfully. "Master Karp, how are the boots?"
Karp grinned and stamped his feet. "Perfect, though I've not yet tested them in a barroom brawl."
The shoemaker threw his head back and laughed. "Well, kicking or running, they'll hold up fine. I've got your new evening boots ready. Did you want them or shall I send'em along to the house?"
"The house is fine, we've errands to run yet."
"As it pleases you then," the shoemaker said congenially. "I'd avoid the milliner for a bit, good sirs. He and his wife had a bit of a tiff last night and his poor customers have been taking the brunt of it all morning."
Andre snorted softly. "Thank you for the warning. Always a pleasure. Have a good rest of the day."
"Oh, aye," the shoemaker said with a grin. "They come running from next door to escape the milliner and spend the money on shoes instead. Enjoy the rest of yours, good sirs."
Karp bid him farewell and then they were once more outside.
The scent of something sweet caught his attention, and he followed it to a little stall selling all manner of cakes and sweet buns. He pointed to three, all teeming with berries and nuts, and then turned to Andre. "Would you like anything? To make up for the scene I caused?"
"No, thank you," Andre said stiffly, standing well away from the cart and regarding it as though it were the most contemptible thing in existence. The women laughed softly, and Andre shifted his glare to them. This only made them laugh harder, but eventually they subsided to quiet amused glances.
Karp felt very much in the dark, but didn't bother to ask for a torch.
Instead, he took note of the way that Andre continued to stare at the sweets, sharp eyes picking out the cakes on which Andre's gaze seemed to linger. He added those to the pile and paid the women selling them, adding a couple of extra coppers. He handed off a cake dusted with nuts and cinnamon to Andre.
"I said no," Andre snapped. "Keep those things to yourself."
Karp frowned. "It's only a sweet; it won't kill you." He sighed when Andre only ignored him. "If you don't eat it, I'm going to cause a scene – and you know I'll do it."
"Yes," Andre said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Everyone is still talking about the last debacle caused by you and the others."
"It's not our fault they keep thinking we're going to be intimidated by large Forms. Maxim is the size of a bear, and he fights like one, so why should a couple of bear Forms stop him?"
"Perhaps, but that doesn't excuse the foxes."
Karp snorted. "We are not to blame for the fact that women seem prone to hysterics."
This time a full smile overtook Andre's face, an expression Karp wished he saw more often – was the reason for more often. Andre shouldn't always look so severe, it didn't suit him even a tenth so well as that smile. "Do you cause trouble wherever you go, then?"
"We never cause trouble," Karp protested with a grin. "It just always seems to find us. All we ever want is to have a bit of fun, and somehow trouble always springs up, even in the most innocuous of places. I remember this tiny little place in Kundou, made the finest fishcakes in the world – and until then I hadn't liked fish a bit – and it was early evening, later summer and not even dark yet…" He launched into the story, one of his favorites though it hadn't been too terribly funny at the time, avidly recounting when the bandits had shown up, barely noticing they were simply walking, stopping nowhere. "We left them on spits roasting over a small fire and took our leave. Later on we heard they'd been carted off and locked up, and that the local authorities laughed themselves silly at the spit-roasted brigands they'd found waiting for them."
Andre shook his head. "Incredible."
"A few days later we got lost in the mountains, but we always get lost when Ferapont falls ill and we should have known better anyway. Still, it was funny. Later, anyway. Much Later."
"I'm amazed you're all still alive," Andre said.
Karp licked a last bit of sugar from his fingers and grinned. "So are we, but our team is nothing if not a well-made fire."
Andre made a choked sort of sound and licked his lips. "Indeed."
Struggling to think of boring things, and not of what else that tongue could lick, Karp shook the thought away and made himself speak. "So now that I've rambled, where are we supposed to be going?"
"The perfumery, though it looks rather as though the place is quite busy," Andre replied, making a face. "Other than that, my most pressing errand was the first one, and you dealt with that rather neatly, even if the method was uncouth."
Karp lifted one brow. "Then where the devil does all your money go?"
"To the problem you so neatly fixed," Andre replied, grimacing. "That I was apparently too stupid to see."
Ah. That would explain a lot. "Hardly," he said. "I could have been more specific in asking you why you always bought so much. Too busy bickering, I guess."
"I suppose so," Andre said with a faint smile.
They slowed to a stop as they reached the point where they had first begun. Andre swept him a bow. "We do not kill each other, Firelander, so I will count the day a success."
Karp frowned, reluctant for the day to end. Despite the occasional tense moments, it had seemed a very fine way to spend part of the day. "As you say. Where are you off to now?"
"Some personal errands, and as his lordship is away for a couple of days, leaving me with little to do…" Andre shrugged. He smiled faintly at Karp. "Do not cause trouble on your way back home." With a wave, he turned and strode quickly down the street.
Karp watched him, thoroughly enjoying how well the man's breeches fit, how elegantly he moved. Sighing, he finally made himself move, but rather than head back to the house he opted to make his way back up the street, veering toward the banks instead, deciding that while he was out he may as well check on a few things…
"Sir! Good Sir!"
Karp jerked his head up as he realized it was he the voices were calling after, and turned to see the young women at the stall of sweets. They were beckoning to him. "Good Sir," the one with pale blue eyes smiled at him. "We're being impertinent, but we've just got to ask."
"Ask what?" Karp frowned, confused.
The other woman, eyes a cinnamon brown, giggled. "Are you the one Andre's been sighing about?"
Karp blinked. "What?"
"Are you?" the first girl asked. "Everyone around is talking about it, and I don't think he's eaten a sweet since he was a boy." The two women looked at each other and giggled again, obviously amused and delighted by something that was completely escaping Karp. "He used to love them, and was so adorably round when we were all children. Now he's a regular stick and won't eat anything sweet. It's so nice to see him like he used to be!"
"Round?" Karp repeated, feeling stupid and even more scorching confused. "I think I'm the wrong person, whatever you might mean. We're both employed by his Grace the Marquis le Blanc, that's all."
The women exchanged Looks that always meant trouble for any man unfortunate enough to be breathing. Hastily backing away, Karp turned and fled as quickly as his dignity would allow.
Forget the bank. It was time to retreat.
Quickly Karp made his way back home, retreating to his room long enough to strip out of his nicer clothes and put his more comfortable ones back on before making a run for his office.
"Karp! There you are!" Maxim grinned, filling the hallway, dwarfing everything around him. "We were going to go fishing, want to come? Take a break from all that work you do now."
"Like I don't know very well you're doing work of your own," Karp said. "Don't lie. You're just as poor a slacker as the rest of us."
"Not today," Maxim said cheerfully. "We're going to go kidnap Lord Black Kitty and head down to the river. Coming?"
Karp thought about it for all of half a second. "Yes." It was just the distraction he needed right now.
*~*~*~*
He was exhausted. He should be fast asleep.
The day had been a fine one, but now that he was alone in his office and the household quiet – the first part of the day was returning to harass him.
It wasn't even what the girls said that was bothering him; women like that just wanted to liven their days with chatter, gossip. They meant no harm and seldom actually caused any.
He just didn't know what to do about Andre. His hope that his fire for the man would eventually burn out didn’t seem to be happening – indeed, now that he'd spent time doing more than simply bickering with the scorching ferret….the fire only burned hotter.
But what could he do about it? Nothing. He wasn't even certain why he suddenly desired a man after a lifetime of women. Or why Andre of all people had to be the one causing him this confusion.
Fire and ash, he only thought about this stuff drunk. Why was he doing it sober?
Perhaps because he was tired of only half-dealing with it. Much more his style to take care of a problem decisively, rather than dither about and avoid it. This problem wouldn't be solved unless he talked to someone though – not the others…not the Boss or Lord Kitty, though he'd considered it before…
No, he wanted to talk to Andre, but the man would likely only laugh in his face. The gossip of women seldom carried any truth. If Andre was carrying a torch for someone, Karp didn't see how it could be him. Andre was…too proper and refine and good looking to want to be associated intimately with a rough and ugly thug, albeit a retired thug.
Fire and ash, maybe he should just go and get burned. It wouldn't be the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his life – close, but not quite the dumbest. Scorch it all, fine! He had no scorching idea what he was going to say, but if he sat here thinking and moping he would only make things worse for himself.
At least if he got burned, there would be something to heal, something to get over.
Karp stood and crossed to the small bar in the corner, pouring and downing two fortifying swallows of brandy, then strode from the office, snatching his cloak up from the entryway. He moved quickly through the streets, by habit keeping more the shadows, wending his way rapidly to the area where he knew Andre lived.
He knew the address and quickly found the house – and two people in front of it. Lanterns hung from poles up and down the street, and the pair stood close to but not quite beneath one of them.
Visible enough it wasn't hard for Karp to pick out Andre – though the mussed state of his hair, the casualness of his dress…he wondered for a moment if Andre had some secret twin. Who was he with? A friend?
But even as he asked the question, it was answered for him, as Andre abruptly dragged the other man close and kissed him. Karp realized abruptly that despite telling himself this was stupid, he'd somehow let a small bit of hope burn. It went out like a candle in a strong wind.
Scorching idiot, him. Karp watched miserably as the kissing progressed to much more, chest tight as Andre finally broke away to lead the man into the house. The sound of the door closing behind them was sharp in the late-night quiet, and the most awful sound Karp had ever heard.
Well, he'd warned himself he'd likely get burned.
He just had expected a slight burn, not a full scorching that left nothing but ashes.
Slowly Karp turned around and made his way back home. Defeat left a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth, and settled in his stomach like soured wine and Gleb's cooking.
Once home, he snagged the brandy from his office and then locked himself in his room, drinking until he remembered nothing but the floor coming up to meet him.
*~*~*~*
Karp glared at the door of his bedroom, hearing the infernal noise on the other side. He wasn't coming out, they could all scorch off, and if after his last warning they picked the locks again – he would not be held responsible for the consequences. They were like brothers to him, the only family he'd ever had. All the family any of them had ever had – but that would not keep him from doing his best to flatten them if they did not scorch off and burn.
He knew he was overreacting. That he shouldn't be acting anything like this.
It was over. Done. He'd tried to touch the flames and gotten burned. Lesson learned.
Except seeing Andre the morning after that wretched night, smiling and greeting him rather than bickering – not fair. If he couldn't have Andre the way he wanted, if he'd lost to some scorching bit of competition he hadn't even known existed, then he wanted to go back to the bickering.
So in mature, adult fashion, he'd snarled until the ferret had stormed off, then closed up his office and come back to his room. Fire and ash, if life was going to be this scorching mean, he was allowed to act like a petulant child.
He'd return to normal eventually. Until then he really wished they'd all scorch off.
Ignoring the continued efforts to draw him out, Karp curled up in his chair and tried to focus on the book he was reading. He'd been stuck on the same page the entire day.
Abruptly the voices outside cut off – then came the sound of the lock being picked.
His brothers weren't stupid. He'd told them to scorch off and likely knocked Luka a good one with the book he'd pitched – they might stand out there and harass him all day, but they'd only attempt to invade his space again for two reasons.
One, they thought he was in danger. Definitely not the case.
Which mean the Boss was back. Fire and ash.
Karp swore softly as the door opened and Ivan silently entered the room. "Boss."
"Karp," Ivan said slowly. "You're usually the level-headed one."
He tried to go for nonchalant, but he knew the Boss wasn't fooled. "Just out of sorts, Boss, I'll be fine. Tell them to scorch off and I'll be fine sooner."
Ivan smiled faintly and moved further into the room.
Unfortunately, Karp wasn't so far gone into his misery he was dumb enough to try throwing things at the Boss. No way, no how. All the alcohol in the world wouldn't make him that stupid.
Pulling up another chair, Ivan sat. "So talk."
Heaving a sigh, feeling sick, Karp dropped his book on the floor and talked.
"You should have said something sooner," Ivan said quietly when he finished. "Andre aside, Karp, you can always talk."
"I know, Boss," Karp said, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't want to deal with it. I don't know how you did for so long."
Ivan smiled faintly. "A lifetime of practice, and I apparently had a good team watching out for me the whole time."
"You were always good to us too, Boss."
"I try," Ivan said, "though you lot liked to make it difficult occasionally."
"Keeps life interesting," Karp said, managing a smile.
Ivan regarded him in silence. "I think you're giving up too quickly, Karp, and that's not your style."
"I barely even know the game I'm playing, Boss. It's over. I'm done."
"Well, stop sulking then. The fire is out, cover it with dirt and move out."
"Yes, Boss," Karp replied, smiling more genuinely this time. "Thanks."
Ivan smiled and waved the words aside. "Get cleaned up, then get back to work before the others tear this house apart worrying."
Karp snorted and stood to obey as the door closed behind Ivan.
Outside, Ivan crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Gleb, your eavesdropping skills are getting sloppy. I heard you move twice."
"Sorry, Boss," Gleb said with a grin. "I fell over in glee at having won the bet."
Ferapont snorted. "You did not – you said ten silver they were already going at it in that office. Your money was on lovers quarrel, not unrequited. None of us thought of unrequited."
"Yeah," Isidor said, glaring at something unseen. "Why the scorch would it be? Only that lug-headed ferret would choose some two-pence off the street over Karp." He cracked his knuckles. "Let's go chat with the rodent."
Luka grinned wolfishly. "Wait until he goes home tonight, we'll corner him there."
"Chat," Ivan said mildly.
Maxim nodded, looking positively cheerful. "Chat. Right."
"More than that and you'll upset Karp," Ivan reminded them.
"We know, Boss," Luka said. "I've got it covered. Come on, boys, we'll go plan our chat."
Shaking his head, Ivan left them to it and went go warn Ailill.
*~*~*~*
Four days since he'd been burned, but at least he was able to look at his work again. Boss was right, he should have talked to someone sooner.
Sighing softly, Karp crossed over to his desk and dropped down in his seat, yawning as he opened the top right drawer to pull out his ledgers.
The drawer was empty.
Frowning, wondering whose head was going to be coming off for this little prank, he yanked open more drawers only to find that all his stuff was gone. Snarling, he opened the center drawer to see if the culprit had taken his writing instruments as well and found that yes, he had.
But he'd also left a note.
Breaking the seal on the small bit of paper, Karp frowned in confusion.
Why would Andre take his stuff? Was he that sore over…but Karp couldn't blame him. He'd been all but downright nasty to the man. Who deserved it, but he didn't know that.
Snarling in frustration, because the very last thing he wanted to do was go confront the scorching ferret in his home, Karp stalked from his office and outside, not even bothering to fetch a jacket or change into more suitable public attire.
He reached Andre's home in record time and pounded on the door. Get his stuff, apologize, return home. That was the plan.
Except that the plan didn't include Andre opening the door looking utterly scorching. The man never looked anything less than perfect, yet now he appeared as casual as Karp. Faded breeches, worn to the point they fit like a second skin, an old shirt with the laces only barely done, that perfect hair messy, as though a hand had been run through it a dozen times or more.
Jealousy, deep and bitter, flashed through Karp to think of the man from a few nights ago. Was he about somewhere? Was he the reason Andre looked so utterly mussed and fine? Fire and ash, he should have simply ignored Andre's little game and stayed away. "Give it back," he finally managed. "I've got too much work to do for your stupid games."
"Too bad," Andre said primly, then grasped his shirt and yanked him inside, closing the door behind them. "I didn't just have ten years knocked off my life for nothing."
Karp frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"The rest of your team paid me a visit last night," Andre said slowly.
Cold lanced down Karp's spine. "Those scorching bastards," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to kill them." He didn't want to know, he didn't want to know, he really didn't want to know. "What did they do?"
Andre hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. He abruptly turned away and ducked out of the hallway and into the first room off it. His voice carried though, and Karp slowly followed him into what turned out to be a small parlor decorated in deep green. "My mother was a famous pianist in her youth, until she broke her arm. My father died when I was young, but between the two of them there managed to be quite a sum of money for us to live on. It's why I still have this house, though I've closed up most of it now. They were both big on appearances. 'Scorching' about it, you would probably say."
His fingers gripped the curtain as he stared out the window, back to Karp. "They couldn't stand their child was fat, ugly. They tried restricting my diet, and when that didn't work to their satisfaction, they cut my food off altogether. Took away my books, my toys, all of it. I used to sneak off and eat sweets to make myself feel better. Then my father died, and as children do I blamed myself for it. But it helped me lose weight, and slowly I became what I am now."
He laughed softly, bitterly, and Karp wanted to do or say something but sensed somehow that the best thing he could do was stay silent and still.
"Even my most odious employers could never deny I turned them out perfectly each and every time. I'm very good at what I do, and even when I was an eyesore people noticed that. Now…it's supremely frustrating to know that I'm far from a failure, that there is much of which I have to proud, that I ceased to be an eyesore a long time ago…and yet nothing I am or do is good enough to attract the one person I find I wish would notice."
Karp frowned, heart speeding up despite his best attempts at quashing futile hope.
"But, I told myself, it was stupid to think a merc would find anything of interest in a spoiled brat who has never left this city for more than a day and has never had to worry about money."
Fire and ash. "It's the other way around, you scorching ferret," Karp said, the sick feeling in his stomach rapidly being replaced with heat, misery fading beneath happiness. "Someone so polished would never look twice at a copper-pinching rough and ugly merc."
Andre finally turned, a frown etched deeply into his face. "Why do you always call yourself that? I thought you were just being flippant, but you're serious."
"Uh – it's true?" Karp asked.
Muttering something unintelligible, Andre abruptly reached out and yanked him close, and Karp allowed it because now that he knew he could see it and who kissed who first was impossible to tell but wholly irrelevant because his scorching ferret tasted good, as potent as good ale but as sweet as a Verde wine.
The low moan fed into his mouth was the finest thing Karp had ever heard, the hard heat pressed against his own strange but not unpleasant, and the way Andre fit against him was utter perfection.
"You're not ugly," Andre said when they finally broke apart. "I don't know who lodged that thought in your head, but he and the thought both need to die."
Karp smiled, pleased by the words even though he knew exactly what he looked like. He bent down to take another kiss, wanting to do nothing else ever again.
Unless it involved a bed and lots of nakedness. He nibbled on Andre's lips, chuckling softly. "So what exactly did they say to you last night?"
Andre rolled his eyes. "That I had better dump the stupid lover and take you instead or else."
Karp stilled. "Lover? So that man was…"
"No! Mercy of the Queen, are you all idiots?" He yanked hard at Karp's shirt. "We spent that whole morning together and I got nothing except that you seemed to despise me a little less. I was miserable. I spent the whole day cleaning my house and then purchased some company. I'm going to ki—"
Karp cut him off with a kiss, holding him tight, not letting go until breathing was absolutely required. "If it's any consolation, you tortured me each and every time you leaned over my desk."
Andre shivered in his arms and took another long, slow kiss. "We'll have to compare fantasies, sometime. But for now I think the bedroom is good enough."
"Or here," Karp said with a grin, and didn't give Andre a chance to protest.
Really I suppose I should write one for each of them at some point.
Karp
"Scorch off, rat."
"I am not a rat, you copper-pinching meat-eater."
Karp was unfazed by the nasty glare being directed at him. He leaned back in the deep leather of his chair – well, technically the study belonged to Lord Kitty, but Ailill had long ago conceded Karp used it far more than he ever had. "I wouldn't pinch coppers if you'd stop going over budget, rodent."
Andre braced his hands on the desk and leaned over it, so close their faces were only breaths apart.
The proximity made Karp's nose twitch. Andre always smelled like flowers, something he generally associated with women. It should have been one more thing about which he could mock the scorching weasel – except it smelled good. Like wildflowers after winter is finally gone for a time, beaten down by spring at last. It had always been his favorite time of year. No girl ever smelled like that, they always smelled too sweet. That Andre did was rather puzzling, and no small amount annoying. He wanted badly to make fun of the man for smelling girly, but suspected the bastard would sense he didn't entirely dislike it.
Never let an enemy know your weaknesses.
"Give me a larger budget and I'll stop going over it! Your limits are ridiculous."
Karp smirked. "No." Honestly, he could adjust the budgets easily enough. Lord Kitty's estate brought in more money than anyone could spend. Except for Andre. The man spent money like it was water and he lived beside a river, which was why he was never going to increase his budget, no matter how easy it would be. "Your budget is not getting increased. If you'd stop buying all this stuff just to upset Lord Kitty, there wouldn't be a problem. Such extravagant expenditures aren't necessary." He spread out a sheaf of papers in front of him without breaking their locked gazes.
On anyone else he would have called those pale gray eyes pretty, perfectly suited to the sharp lines and angles of which Andre was made. Even his hair was cut sharply. The words pristine and perfect often sprung up in Karp's thoughts. Pale hair, pointed ears, eyes that never missed a thing.
If the man was not so know-it-all obnoxious and obsessed with buying obscene amounts of clothing and perfumes and all manner of frippery – because Lord Kitty flat out refused to do it himself – Karp might almost be tempted to stop tormenting the bastard and increase his budget.
As it was, this was his greatest source of entertainment. After taunting the Boss and Lord Kitty, of course.
Still glaring, Andre pulled back far enough to regard the papers Karp had spread out. "These are necessary expenditures. Do you know how often his Lordship ruins his clothing beyond repair? All of it must be replaced."
Karp snorted and once more leaned back in his chair. "Then tell Lord Kitty to stop shredding his clothes before he drags the Boss to bed or he'll be walking around naked."
"As if that would stop him," Andre said in disgust. He turned away. "Honestly, it's clear this house belongs to the criminal rather than the logical element."
That was going a little too far, even if Andre was only doing it to provoke. Sometimes Karp wondered – the man was more than a bit of snob, though not one of the malicious ones. Just the aggravating and confounding ones. "Mercenary I may have been, but I still know more about money and managing it than you, rat, so stop maligning me. If you've got such problems with 'the criminal element' I'm sure you're free to go to a more respectable household." Where the man would be put neatly in his place and given no liberties with the budget whatsoever. Andre would rather die than lose his little kingdom here – which meant he was stuck with Karp's budget.
It was good to be a ruthless mercenary, even if he was more like a…household manager of sorts, these days. What was the proper term for that? He thought counting coppers was usually the realm of the butler…but given the butler preferred to play dice with the cook whenever they could manage it….
"Since when are mercs such copper-pinchers," Andre said sourly, sitting gracefully down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk, crossing his arms and looking stiffly at Karp.
Karp rolled his eyes. "Plenty. Not all of us grew up with coppers to spare, and precious few of us were ever given permission to do as we like with the household budget. It's patently obvious, rat, that you've never had to be careful how you spent money."
"I have always earned every copper I make," Andre replied, eyes flashing.
Oh, good. The scorching ferret actually felt a bit of a sting.
If possible, Andre only seemed to sit more stiffly in his chair than before. "Aren't mercs supposed to be wealthy from doing the dirty work of the world?"
Karp gave a sharp laugh. "Wealthy! Ha! Your ignorance is showing again, rat. Do you honestly think that anyone who hires mercs to rob, steal, threaten, or kidnap would pay well for the deed? Hardly. We had to fight for every last copper."
Andre gave him a look of patent disbelief. "Kidnapping? I fail to see how the clowns about this house could have managed anything so complicated as a kidnapping. Nor do I believe for an instant that it doesn't pay well – that is the point of a kidnapping, after all, isn't it?"
"No," Karp said. "Most kidnappings are a matter of scaring the victim. Money is an afterthought, most of the time. Not always mind, and those were always our most lucrative jobs, but most kidnappings are nothing but a difficult way to make person C do what person A wants. We're just the middlemen doing all the work."
"Yet you make no money from it?" Andre asked skeptically. "Perhaps you are not so grand with the household accounts as everyone thinks."
"Maybe you should shut up for once, weasel," Karp retorted. "We're mercs, criminals – but not stupid. In cases where money is the goal, we charge ten percent of the ransom. Where it's not, we negotiate, factoring in complexity of the kidnapping, the number of days involved, worth of the item being obtained, risk involved – all sort of things. For simplicity's sake, the average ransom is 5,000 silver. Our standard rate is ten percent of the ransom, so 500. Everyone gets a cut of 25, except the Boss who gets 40. That leaves 325. In most kidnappings, we need horses. Cheaper to borrow by the day than actually own, and those go for about 3 silver a day. Times 6 for an average of 5 days – takes us down to 235. Most often these take place in the winter, which limits our ability to hide out in the woods and survive that way. Costing us room and board, which is generally 5 silver a day, 5 days, 25 silver, usually an extra ten for food for us all, so 35 silver. Leaving 200 total. That doesn't include money spent in the days leading up to the kidnapping, which with travel, bribery, another 75 silver easy. 125 left, and if anyone gets injured badly enough or we have to leave town in a hurry – we're lucky to be left with a profit of 50 silver. In nicer weather, we can often make 100-125 profit, but that's just saved up to tide us over in winter."
Andre sniffed. "Then why do such work, if it hardly pays?"
"Because my mother sold me to a merc band when I was six and the only skill I had until Ivan noticed my head did numbers rather well was with a sword. We weren't all born wearing lace, ferret."
"At least you've finally remembered what I am."
"Trust me," Karp said, "you're too obnoxious to forget. Now if you're done whining about the budget, scorch off and let me get some work done. I'll consider readjusting your budget when you consider taking more care with what you've got."
Andre smirked and stood up. "I take very good care of what I've got."
Karp rolled his eyes and did not dignify that with a reply.
He glanced at the clock on the mantle as the door slammed shut. Only just before the dinner hour; today's snit fit had been remarkably brief.
Which meant there was likely going to be a second round right before bed.
Not if he could help it.
Karp quickly put his desk to rights, made a few notes to himself on what needed to be done the next day, penned a quick mark that would let the others know where he'd gone, then abandoned his office to slip quickly out the front door. On the streets, he made his through the sections of the upper city and toward the harbor. Give him a seedy tavern any day over the fancy clubs and all the Boss was frequently dragged off to endure.
He slid onto a barstool worn smooth by years of use, resting his arms on the bar top and signaling for beer. It was a bit sweeter in Verde than he was used to, but after the weird stuff he'd drunk in Kundou – anything was better.
Sipping at his drink once it came, quite happy to slowly work his way to drunk in a place that would likely send Andre into a fit of apoplexy, Karp abruptly drank down his first and called for a second. Around him the number of patrons steadily increased, shifting from a vague and distant hum to a steady but ignorable drone.
The soft slide of fingers on his arm, warm even through layers of clothing, finally stirred him from somewhere deep into his fifth…or sixth perhaps…drink. He blinked.
"You look in need of company, handsome."
Karp laughed softly. "Handsome I am not, pretty miss, but I thank you all the same."
"Oh, but I think you are," the woman said, pressing gently against him, breasts soft against his arm. Boldly she leaned in and kissed his cheek, the scent and roses thick, almost but not quite drowning out the grimier smell of too many unwashed bodies in one small place, the tangle of sweat and smoke and alcohol.
"Thanks, pretty miss, but I'd prefer to be on my own tonight." He kissed her cheek and pressed a few coins into her hand. "Thanks, though. Have a good night."
"Indeed," the woman murmured softly, staring at him. She smiled faintly as she pulled away. "If you change your mind, handsome, just let me know. I'll be around." Then she was gone, vanished into the crowded tavern, and Karp returned to his drink.
Empty. He called for another.
The feel of her kiss lingered, but it wasn't her lips Karp felt. He took a deep swallow of his drink to try and banish the memory, but it wouldn't go. Fire and ash, he'd just wanted a relief from numbers and fights with that blasted ferret.
A tavern much like this one, but right along the sea, strong with the smell of roasting fish and fat meat buns. Alcohol that tasted like acid but had the kick of the stuff his homeland brewed.
The young, pretty girl who'd thought him worth a try. Long dark blue-green hair and eyes to match, a willowy figure hinted at by flowing dark red robes…a figure that beneath the robes had proven not to be that of a pretty young girl at all.
Karp groaned and called for another drink, tossing down coins, drinking deeply.
More and more often that night was coming back to haunt him. He should have fled in anger or panic, to discover he'd been tricked so…but he'd stayed. Fire and ash! Everyone knew the Boss had always preferred men…not so the rest of them. Karp had more than a few women keep him warm from time to time, not once in all those years…
Then he'd given in so easily to the pretty blue-green eyes and hair in Kundou, and ever since he'd had no interest in anything but reliving that one night while he stroked himself.
Worse still, blue-green eyes were being replaced by pale gray, the long, vibrant hair replace by short, pale strands, memories of a night spent in a small inn room turning into fantasies of locking his office door and find new uses for his desk.
Fire and ash, he should have drunk at home. Why had he come out?
Ah, yes. To escape the man who was plaguing him anyway. Scorching uppity bastard. How did a member of the working class, albeit a man who worked for and was highly trusted by one of the Beasts, get such a high and mighty demeanor?
Disgusted with himself, Karp threw down a few more coins and slowly slid from his seat, moving slowly to the door, ignoring everyone else.
Outside the late night was cool without being cold, sharp and crisp even through his drunken haze. He walked slowly, letting his thoughts drift a bit, knowing the way by heart. He paused as he came to a two-way intersection. One would lead to the middleclass areas of town and eventually to the business district. The other cut along houses that spilled eventually into the finer areas. He went left, toward the home of Lord Kitty, but two-thirds of the way there he lingered at yet another intersection, a split that led to houses not quite as well to do as those he was headed toward.
Somewhere down there, he knew, Andre had his own home. For whatever reason, he chose to keep his own quarters. He should—
Get home before he did something stupid.
Nodding at this bit of wisdom, Karp continued his slow pace back home, fumbling briefly with the door before stumbling inside and weaving his way to his room, having just enough strength left to strip before crashing into his bed.
*~*~*~*
"Rat, scorch off. I'm in no mood for you so early in the morning."
Honestly he was in no mood for morning, period, but he'd had a meeting with Lord Kitty's stock advisor – only for the man to send word he wouldn't be able to come today – and a mountain of paperwork besides. If he wasn't having far too much fun with all of it, he might resent Lord Kitty for so easily handing it off to him.
All in all, it wasn't a bad morning, he supposed. Minus the hangover. He just would rather be sleeping, but that would teach him.
Or not, but that was not the point.
The point was that Andre needed to go away.
"You closed my accounts, you obnoxious carnivore!"
Karp pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his pounding headache increasing tenfold. "Yes," he said slowly. "They will stay closed until you stop going over budget." He looked up gave Andre a Look. "And the clerks will listen to me, not you, so don't try to cozen them, rodent."
Andre sniffed. "I don't see why they're listening to you."
"I'm meaner, uglier, and hold all the purse strings," Karp retorted.
"Indeed," Andre said.
Karp felt a brief pang, and quickly squashed it. He was 33, long past something so stupid as feeling hurt that someone agreed he was ugly. He'd always been plain, it had actually helped make him a good merc. Looks like his didn't stand out. Dark hair, dark eyes…simple, clean, but ultimately forgettable features…and more scars than he could count anymore telling the history of his hard life. The only 'spark' to him these days was the occasional flash of the magic gifted to him by Raz.
Still, must Andre always be such a scorching bastard? The man was fine to look upon, but such a brat…
Though Karp knew he didn't mind the brat part so much, either. Lord knew he'd dealt with worse.
Wishing he'd just scorching stayed in bed, he made shooing motions at Andre, rather hating the man for looking so neat and tidy and perfect at barely ten in the morning when Karp had been willing to do nothing more than throw on breeches, a linen shirt, and his boots. Even now the laces of the shirt still gaped open, and if were awake enough to care he might feel ridiculous and inferior next to the bratty little ferret.
"Get out, Andre. I have work to do, and bickering with you is not supposed to be until after lunch."
"I have to go shopping," Andre snapped. "I cannot do that if you are cutting off my funds."
Karp rolled his eyes and stood up, determined to get rid of Andre and then go beg some coffee from the kitchens. "Andre, Lord Kitty's clothing budget is 8,000 silver a month. You have already spent 2500 and the month is barely half gone. I've no idea what scorching more he could need, but I can give you the funds and—"
"You have no idea what this sort of thing requires!" Andre interrupted. "It's impossible to guess how much I'm going to spend before hand, and I do not feel like trekking back here like some schoolboy to ask you for more funds. Though I'm sure you'd like that."
The response to that was too easy, and Karp did not give in to the temptation. "Staying under budget is a matter of discipline."
Andre made a face. "I have discipline. You simply have no concept of what it is like to shop for such things."
Karp smirked. "Fair enough. I'll go shopping with you today."
The look of horror on Andre's face was almost amusing – almost because Karp didn't know why the man should be so upset by such a notion, amusing because he really did look as though Karp had suggested Andre should shave his head. "You'll what?"
"I'm going shopping with you. If I see that you're correct in my misjudging the matter, I'll adjust your budget accordingly." Of course, he knew he wasn't wrong, he was most meticulous about such things – but maybe after this Andre would stop driving him crazy with the complaints.
Though…but in the end, it was best if the man stopped charging into his office.
"You are not going shopping with me," Andre said. "Not looking like that! They'll take one look at you and laugh us right out of the shops."
Karp frowned, stung. "Of course I wouldn’t go out like this – why must you always be such a scorcher? Keep your fur on, rat." Not giving Andre a chance to reply, he moved around his desk and stalked from the room, barely resisting the urge to slam his bedroom door.
He wasn't nobility, or even remotely close. He didn't even bother trying to be – it had taken a scorching amount of work before Lord Kitty's brokers and bankers and merchants had all begun taking him seriously.
Still, he didn't go around completely humiliating himself – and he could fake it well when he felt like it. Being an expert in kidnapping made one an expert at fitting in by default. Much harder to take his lordship if one looked suspicious slipping into the crowd of the house party.
Why must Andre be such a scorching brat about everything?
Sighing, Karp quickly donned clothes fit for going out. It was always strange to look upon the nice clothes he had now and think they were his, bought and paid for with the coin he earned regularly managing Lord Kitty's money.
Dark brown breeches and dark gold waistcoat, shirt and cravat of dark cream, a simple gold cravat pin, and his favorite boots, long broken in and fitted to his feet. He didn’t look anywhere near as fine as Andre, but he would pass inspection. The final touch was four knives – one for each boot, one in his jacket tucked against his chest, and the other slipped between his shoulder blades.
Venturing from his room, he returned to the study and ignored Andre to gather up his things, determined to make note of every last detail while on this expedition so as to have plenty of support the next time Andre stormed in to yell at him.
Finally ready, he turned to Andre. "Ready?"
Andre merely nodded, expression shuttered, and turned to lead the way out. Resisting the urge to provoke or taunt, knowing the day was already going to be a long one, Karp kept the silence as they walked until they reached the edge of the business district. "So where are we going first?"
"To the tailor's," Andre said, a frown on his handsome face. "His Lordship is attending the summer ball and his attire is nearly finished. I must inspect the progress."
Karp nodded and followed along, wrinkling his nose briefly as they entered the fancy, overblown shop to which Andre led them. The smell of perfume was thick and choking, and he wondered what such excessive scent was hiding.
He remained silent, however, as they were led to a small room and Andre began speaking quietly with a man who was clearly in charge. Introductions were briefly made, and Karp was pleased that Andre kept what precisely he did vague, more pleased still when the obnoxious man promptly dismissed him.
His own clothes had been made by a little shop much father away, closer to the poorer districts and nowhere near as flashy. They weren't as fine or fancy as Lord Kitty's clothes, but he liked the sisters that made his stuff much more than this man.
Karp stirred as something struck him. "You say Pozharian lace?" he asked, stepping closer to the other two, reaching out a hand to examine the lace they were examining.
"Yes," the obnoxious man said stiffly. "Some of the finest."
"I bet that goes for a pretty copper around here," Karp murmured. It should. This was Yellow Hill lace. They'd been hired to steal an entire shipment of the stuff once. Far more delicate than a lot of the lace in Pozhar; something about the Yellow Hill area lent itself well to it. "What is the cost?" he asked, just to aggravate Andre, knowing he'd be infuriated at such a tasteless question.
"Twelve silver a bolt, sir," the man said with a sniff.
Beside him, Karp could see Andre positively vibrating with anger that Karp would do something as rude as ask the price. Such things were not discussed.
"Twelve?" Karp repeated. "No wonder the budget suffers. Andre, you've already bought eight bolts of this stuff – why are you buying more?"
Andre frowned. "But – I've only bought six, and most of it was to repair damage to older garments. The stuff I'm purchasing today is for his new clothes."
"Six?" Karp asked softly. He opened his portfolio and flipped through the neatly arranged papers inside. "Yet I have a bill here that says you purchased eight bolts three days ago."
"I only bought six," Andre said, mouth tight.
Karp looked back down at his portfolio. "Damask – three bolts. Satin, four. Velvet, two. Linen, twelve"
"Two, three, one, and ten." Andre said.
"I see," Karp said. "No scorching wonder you were always going over budget." He snapped the portfolio closed and regarded the now panicked looking man before him. "I think it safe to say sir that you have been fleecing the White Panther of Verde for quite some time. What other Beasts are you cheating? Shall I inform them of this?"
"No-no, my lord, I assure you—"
Karp stepped closer, driving the man back, knowing from the way the scorching fool's face paled that his eyes were glinting with the flames of Raz's blessing. "I care nothing for your assurances," he said coldly. "Here are your options. We pay for nothing until such time as I say the money you have cheated from his Lordship is accounted for."
"You can't—"
"I can," Karp cut in. He moved closer, pinning the oaf against the wall, pulling the dagger from the hidden sheath in his jacket, pressing the tip to the man's throat. "I'm a Firelander," he said lightly. "We have very short tempers. You have angered me. Do not do it again. Now, this is what you're going to do – everything is free of charge until I say all is settled. After which, we will take our business elsewhere. Should you cause any further trouble, my fine friend, I can do a great of damage to your business." He slowly pulled the dagger away. "Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
Karp barely kept from sniggering. 'My lord.' As if. "Good." He turned to Andre. "Have you business left to conclude?"
"No, I think matters quite settled," Andre said with a sigh, then abruptly turned and left.
Frowning, Karp followed him out. He could tell by the tight set of that fine mouth that he was in trouble – but what else was new? "I am sorry for causing a ruckus," he said stiffly.
Andre looked at him, then looked away.
"So where are we going next?" Karp asked, wishing he could land upon the right thing to say.
Still there was no reply.
Fire and ash, women were easier to handle than this man. Karp frowned, thinking. "That lace is made in a small village called Yellow Hill, back home. Most of the women in the village make it, it costs them only pence to do it, and they make all the profit they need charging a silver a bolt to the traders who come seeking it. The village is remote, tucked into a corner with the Jagged Mountains on one side, the ocean on the other, and nothing but empty fields. Journeying there from the capitol is easily a three week journey on foot. Peddlers resell the lace for three silver a bolt to merchants in the city, who sell it for six to their customers…with tariffs and other such things, by the time it reaches foreign shores…"
Andre laughed softly, and his pale eyes were much brighter when he looked up again. "Yet you just accused him of being a cheat."
Karp grinned. "I never once said he wasn't being cheated – just that he was sloppy about cheating. It was his fault entirely for being that stupid. Never underestimate a man, be he friend or foe or stranger. So where are we going next?"
"That depends," Andre said dryly. "Would you rather terrify the milliner or the shoemaker?"
"Oh, I rather like the shoemaker." Karp looked down to admire his boots. "These are as fine as my leather ones."
Andre shuddered. "Leather. Abhorrent."
"Yes, well, not all of us have to worry about whether or not we're wearing our grandmother and leather is a sturdy material." Karp grinned. "Saved my life more than once, my old jerkin."
"I'm amazed you can settle into such a simple life as this, after such an exciting one," Andre said, looking out over the street, nodding to a few passerby, the streets still mostly empty at this hour – most of Verde did not begin to go out and about until shortly after midday.
Karp shrugged. "It's more fun playing with numbers and picking fights with ferrets than kidnapping brats and beating people up." He absently touched the spot where his dagger was hidden against his breast. "Simple is never given enough credit."
"Indeed," Andre said with another one of those sighs, and Karp wondered what he'd said now.
They'd been doing so well, and now it seemed he'd upset the man again. Confound it. He fell silent as they entered the shoe shop.
"Good morning, good sirs," the shoemaker greeted with a smile. "Andre, I see you've dragged along Master Karp. I've orders ready for the both of you, and Andre that next is nearly complete. Did you want to have a look?"
"Not at all, your work is perfect. I merely came to hear of the progress."
"Moving right along," the shoemaker said cheerfully. "Master Karp, how are the boots?"
Karp grinned and stamped his feet. "Perfect, though I've not yet tested them in a barroom brawl."
The shoemaker threw his head back and laughed. "Well, kicking or running, they'll hold up fine. I've got your new evening boots ready. Did you want them or shall I send'em along to the house?"
"The house is fine, we've errands to run yet."
"As it pleases you then," the shoemaker said congenially. "I'd avoid the milliner for a bit, good sirs. He and his wife had a bit of a tiff last night and his poor customers have been taking the brunt of it all morning."
Andre snorted softly. "Thank you for the warning. Always a pleasure. Have a good rest of the day."
"Oh, aye," the shoemaker said with a grin. "They come running from next door to escape the milliner and spend the money on shoes instead. Enjoy the rest of yours, good sirs."
Karp bid him farewell and then they were once more outside.
The scent of something sweet caught his attention, and he followed it to a little stall selling all manner of cakes and sweet buns. He pointed to three, all teeming with berries and nuts, and then turned to Andre. "Would you like anything? To make up for the scene I caused?"
"No, thank you," Andre said stiffly, standing well away from the cart and regarding it as though it were the most contemptible thing in existence. The women laughed softly, and Andre shifted his glare to them. This only made them laugh harder, but eventually they subsided to quiet amused glances.
Karp felt very much in the dark, but didn't bother to ask for a torch.
Instead, he took note of the way that Andre continued to stare at the sweets, sharp eyes picking out the cakes on which Andre's gaze seemed to linger. He added those to the pile and paid the women selling them, adding a couple of extra coppers. He handed off a cake dusted with nuts and cinnamon to Andre.
"I said no," Andre snapped. "Keep those things to yourself."
Karp frowned. "It's only a sweet; it won't kill you." He sighed when Andre only ignored him. "If you don't eat it, I'm going to cause a scene – and you know I'll do it."
"Yes," Andre said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Everyone is still talking about the last debacle caused by you and the others."
"It's not our fault they keep thinking we're going to be intimidated by large Forms. Maxim is the size of a bear, and he fights like one, so why should a couple of bear Forms stop him?"
"Perhaps, but that doesn't excuse the foxes."
Karp snorted. "We are not to blame for the fact that women seem prone to hysterics."
This time a full smile overtook Andre's face, an expression Karp wished he saw more often – was the reason for more often. Andre shouldn't always look so severe, it didn't suit him even a tenth so well as that smile. "Do you cause trouble wherever you go, then?"
"We never cause trouble," Karp protested with a grin. "It just always seems to find us. All we ever want is to have a bit of fun, and somehow trouble always springs up, even in the most innocuous of places. I remember this tiny little place in Kundou, made the finest fishcakes in the world – and until then I hadn't liked fish a bit – and it was early evening, later summer and not even dark yet…" He launched into the story, one of his favorites though it hadn't been too terribly funny at the time, avidly recounting when the bandits had shown up, barely noticing they were simply walking, stopping nowhere. "We left them on spits roasting over a small fire and took our leave. Later on we heard they'd been carted off and locked up, and that the local authorities laughed themselves silly at the spit-roasted brigands they'd found waiting for them."
Andre shook his head. "Incredible."
"A few days later we got lost in the mountains, but we always get lost when Ferapont falls ill and we should have known better anyway. Still, it was funny. Later, anyway. Much Later."
"I'm amazed you're all still alive," Andre said.
Karp licked a last bit of sugar from his fingers and grinned. "So are we, but our team is nothing if not a well-made fire."
Andre made a choked sort of sound and licked his lips. "Indeed."
Struggling to think of boring things, and not of what else that tongue could lick, Karp shook the thought away and made himself speak. "So now that I've rambled, where are we supposed to be going?"
"The perfumery, though it looks rather as though the place is quite busy," Andre replied, making a face. "Other than that, my most pressing errand was the first one, and you dealt with that rather neatly, even if the method was uncouth."
Karp lifted one brow. "Then where the devil does all your money go?"
"To the problem you so neatly fixed," Andre replied, grimacing. "That I was apparently too stupid to see."
Ah. That would explain a lot. "Hardly," he said. "I could have been more specific in asking you why you always bought so much. Too busy bickering, I guess."
"I suppose so," Andre said with a faint smile.
They slowed to a stop as they reached the point where they had first begun. Andre swept him a bow. "We do not kill each other, Firelander, so I will count the day a success."
Karp frowned, reluctant for the day to end. Despite the occasional tense moments, it had seemed a very fine way to spend part of the day. "As you say. Where are you off to now?"
"Some personal errands, and as his lordship is away for a couple of days, leaving me with little to do…" Andre shrugged. He smiled faintly at Karp. "Do not cause trouble on your way back home." With a wave, he turned and strode quickly down the street.
Karp watched him, thoroughly enjoying how well the man's breeches fit, how elegantly he moved. Sighing, he finally made himself move, but rather than head back to the house he opted to make his way back up the street, veering toward the banks instead, deciding that while he was out he may as well check on a few things…
"Sir! Good Sir!"
Karp jerked his head up as he realized it was he the voices were calling after, and turned to see the young women at the stall of sweets. They were beckoning to him. "Good Sir," the one with pale blue eyes smiled at him. "We're being impertinent, but we've just got to ask."
"Ask what?" Karp frowned, confused.
The other woman, eyes a cinnamon brown, giggled. "Are you the one Andre's been sighing about?"
Karp blinked. "What?"
"Are you?" the first girl asked. "Everyone around is talking about it, and I don't think he's eaten a sweet since he was a boy." The two women looked at each other and giggled again, obviously amused and delighted by something that was completely escaping Karp. "He used to love them, and was so adorably round when we were all children. Now he's a regular stick and won't eat anything sweet. It's so nice to see him like he used to be!"
"Round?" Karp repeated, feeling stupid and even more scorching confused. "I think I'm the wrong person, whatever you might mean. We're both employed by his Grace the Marquis le Blanc, that's all."
The women exchanged Looks that always meant trouble for any man unfortunate enough to be breathing. Hastily backing away, Karp turned and fled as quickly as his dignity would allow.
Forget the bank. It was time to retreat.
Quickly Karp made his way back home, retreating to his room long enough to strip out of his nicer clothes and put his more comfortable ones back on before making a run for his office.
"Karp! There you are!" Maxim grinned, filling the hallway, dwarfing everything around him. "We were going to go fishing, want to come? Take a break from all that work you do now."
"Like I don't know very well you're doing work of your own," Karp said. "Don't lie. You're just as poor a slacker as the rest of us."
"Not today," Maxim said cheerfully. "We're going to go kidnap Lord Black Kitty and head down to the river. Coming?"
Karp thought about it for all of half a second. "Yes." It was just the distraction he needed right now.
*~*~*~*
He was exhausted. He should be fast asleep.
The day had been a fine one, but now that he was alone in his office and the household quiet – the first part of the day was returning to harass him.
It wasn't even what the girls said that was bothering him; women like that just wanted to liven their days with chatter, gossip. They meant no harm and seldom actually caused any.
He just didn't know what to do about Andre. His hope that his fire for the man would eventually burn out didn’t seem to be happening – indeed, now that he'd spent time doing more than simply bickering with the scorching ferret….the fire only burned hotter.
But what could he do about it? Nothing. He wasn't even certain why he suddenly desired a man after a lifetime of women. Or why Andre of all people had to be the one causing him this confusion.
Fire and ash, he only thought about this stuff drunk. Why was he doing it sober?
Perhaps because he was tired of only half-dealing with it. Much more his style to take care of a problem decisively, rather than dither about and avoid it. This problem wouldn't be solved unless he talked to someone though – not the others…not the Boss or Lord Kitty, though he'd considered it before…
No, he wanted to talk to Andre, but the man would likely only laugh in his face. The gossip of women seldom carried any truth. If Andre was carrying a torch for someone, Karp didn't see how it could be him. Andre was…too proper and refine and good looking to want to be associated intimately with a rough and ugly thug, albeit a retired thug.
Fire and ash, maybe he should just go and get burned. It wouldn't be the dumbest thing he'd ever done in his life – close, but not quite the dumbest. Scorch it all, fine! He had no scorching idea what he was going to say, but if he sat here thinking and moping he would only make things worse for himself.
At least if he got burned, there would be something to heal, something to get over.
Karp stood and crossed to the small bar in the corner, pouring and downing two fortifying swallows of brandy, then strode from the office, snatching his cloak up from the entryway. He moved quickly through the streets, by habit keeping more the shadows, wending his way rapidly to the area where he knew Andre lived.
He knew the address and quickly found the house – and two people in front of it. Lanterns hung from poles up and down the street, and the pair stood close to but not quite beneath one of them.
Visible enough it wasn't hard for Karp to pick out Andre – though the mussed state of his hair, the casualness of his dress…he wondered for a moment if Andre had some secret twin. Who was he with? A friend?
But even as he asked the question, it was answered for him, as Andre abruptly dragged the other man close and kissed him. Karp realized abruptly that despite telling himself this was stupid, he'd somehow let a small bit of hope burn. It went out like a candle in a strong wind.
Scorching idiot, him. Karp watched miserably as the kissing progressed to much more, chest tight as Andre finally broke away to lead the man into the house. The sound of the door closing behind them was sharp in the late-night quiet, and the most awful sound Karp had ever heard.
Well, he'd warned himself he'd likely get burned.
He just had expected a slight burn, not a full scorching that left nothing but ashes.
Slowly Karp turned around and made his way back home. Defeat left a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth, and settled in his stomach like soured wine and Gleb's cooking.
Once home, he snagged the brandy from his office and then locked himself in his room, drinking until he remembered nothing but the floor coming up to meet him.
*~*~*~*
Karp glared at the door of his bedroom, hearing the infernal noise on the other side. He wasn't coming out, they could all scorch off, and if after his last warning they picked the locks again – he would not be held responsible for the consequences. They were like brothers to him, the only family he'd ever had. All the family any of them had ever had – but that would not keep him from doing his best to flatten them if they did not scorch off and burn.
He knew he was overreacting. That he shouldn't be acting anything like this.
It was over. Done. He'd tried to touch the flames and gotten burned. Lesson learned.
Except seeing Andre the morning after that wretched night, smiling and greeting him rather than bickering – not fair. If he couldn't have Andre the way he wanted, if he'd lost to some scorching bit of competition he hadn't even known existed, then he wanted to go back to the bickering.
So in mature, adult fashion, he'd snarled until the ferret had stormed off, then closed up his office and come back to his room. Fire and ash, if life was going to be this scorching mean, he was allowed to act like a petulant child.
He'd return to normal eventually. Until then he really wished they'd all scorch off.
Ignoring the continued efforts to draw him out, Karp curled up in his chair and tried to focus on the book he was reading. He'd been stuck on the same page the entire day.
Abruptly the voices outside cut off – then came the sound of the lock being picked.
His brothers weren't stupid. He'd told them to scorch off and likely knocked Luka a good one with the book he'd pitched – they might stand out there and harass him all day, but they'd only attempt to invade his space again for two reasons.
One, they thought he was in danger. Definitely not the case.
Which mean the Boss was back. Fire and ash.
Karp swore softly as the door opened and Ivan silently entered the room. "Boss."
"Karp," Ivan said slowly. "You're usually the level-headed one."
He tried to go for nonchalant, but he knew the Boss wasn't fooled. "Just out of sorts, Boss, I'll be fine. Tell them to scorch off and I'll be fine sooner."
Ivan smiled faintly and moved further into the room.
Unfortunately, Karp wasn't so far gone into his misery he was dumb enough to try throwing things at the Boss. No way, no how. All the alcohol in the world wouldn't make him that stupid.
Pulling up another chair, Ivan sat. "So talk."
Heaving a sigh, feeling sick, Karp dropped his book on the floor and talked.
"You should have said something sooner," Ivan said quietly when he finished. "Andre aside, Karp, you can always talk."
"I know, Boss," Karp said, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't want to deal with it. I don't know how you did for so long."
Ivan smiled faintly. "A lifetime of practice, and I apparently had a good team watching out for me the whole time."
"You were always good to us too, Boss."
"I try," Ivan said, "though you lot liked to make it difficult occasionally."
"Keeps life interesting," Karp said, managing a smile.
Ivan regarded him in silence. "I think you're giving up too quickly, Karp, and that's not your style."
"I barely even know the game I'm playing, Boss. It's over. I'm done."
"Well, stop sulking then. The fire is out, cover it with dirt and move out."
"Yes, Boss," Karp replied, smiling more genuinely this time. "Thanks."
Ivan smiled and waved the words aside. "Get cleaned up, then get back to work before the others tear this house apart worrying."
Karp snorted and stood to obey as the door closed behind Ivan.
Outside, Ivan crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Gleb, your eavesdropping skills are getting sloppy. I heard you move twice."
"Sorry, Boss," Gleb said with a grin. "I fell over in glee at having won the bet."
Ferapont snorted. "You did not – you said ten silver they were already going at it in that office. Your money was on lovers quarrel, not unrequited. None of us thought of unrequited."
"Yeah," Isidor said, glaring at something unseen. "Why the scorch would it be? Only that lug-headed ferret would choose some two-pence off the street over Karp." He cracked his knuckles. "Let's go chat with the rodent."
Luka grinned wolfishly. "Wait until he goes home tonight, we'll corner him there."
"Chat," Ivan said mildly.
Maxim nodded, looking positively cheerful. "Chat. Right."
"More than that and you'll upset Karp," Ivan reminded them.
"We know, Boss," Luka said. "I've got it covered. Come on, boys, we'll go plan our chat."
Shaking his head, Ivan left them to it and went go warn Ailill.
*~*~*~*
Four days since he'd been burned, but at least he was able to look at his work again. Boss was right, he should have talked to someone sooner.
Sighing softly, Karp crossed over to his desk and dropped down in his seat, yawning as he opened the top right drawer to pull out his ledgers.
The drawer was empty.
Frowning, wondering whose head was going to be coming off for this little prank, he yanked open more drawers only to find that all his stuff was gone. Snarling, he opened the center drawer to see if the culprit had taken his writing instruments as well and found that yes, he had.
But he'd also left a note.
Breaking the seal on the small bit of paper, Karp frowned in confusion.
Why would Andre take his stuff? Was he that sore over…but Karp couldn't blame him. He'd been all but downright nasty to the man. Who deserved it, but he didn't know that.
Snarling in frustration, because the very last thing he wanted to do was go confront the scorching ferret in his home, Karp stalked from his office and outside, not even bothering to fetch a jacket or change into more suitable public attire.
He reached Andre's home in record time and pounded on the door. Get his stuff, apologize, return home. That was the plan.
Except that the plan didn't include Andre opening the door looking utterly scorching. The man never looked anything less than perfect, yet now he appeared as casual as Karp. Faded breeches, worn to the point they fit like a second skin, an old shirt with the laces only barely done, that perfect hair messy, as though a hand had been run through it a dozen times or more.
Jealousy, deep and bitter, flashed through Karp to think of the man from a few nights ago. Was he about somewhere? Was he the reason Andre looked so utterly mussed and fine? Fire and ash, he should have simply ignored Andre's little game and stayed away. "Give it back," he finally managed. "I've got too much work to do for your stupid games."
"Too bad," Andre said primly, then grasped his shirt and yanked him inside, closing the door behind them. "I didn't just have ten years knocked off my life for nothing."
Karp frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"The rest of your team paid me a visit last night," Andre said slowly.
Cold lanced down Karp's spine. "Those scorching bastards," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to kill them." He didn't want to know, he didn't want to know, he really didn't want to know. "What did they do?"
Andre hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. He abruptly turned away and ducked out of the hallway and into the first room off it. His voice carried though, and Karp slowly followed him into what turned out to be a small parlor decorated in deep green. "My mother was a famous pianist in her youth, until she broke her arm. My father died when I was young, but between the two of them there managed to be quite a sum of money for us to live on. It's why I still have this house, though I've closed up most of it now. They were both big on appearances. 'Scorching' about it, you would probably say."
His fingers gripped the curtain as he stared out the window, back to Karp. "They couldn't stand their child was fat, ugly. They tried restricting my diet, and when that didn't work to their satisfaction, they cut my food off altogether. Took away my books, my toys, all of it. I used to sneak off and eat sweets to make myself feel better. Then my father died, and as children do I blamed myself for it. But it helped me lose weight, and slowly I became what I am now."
He laughed softly, bitterly, and Karp wanted to do or say something but sensed somehow that the best thing he could do was stay silent and still.
"Even my most odious employers could never deny I turned them out perfectly each and every time. I'm very good at what I do, and even when I was an eyesore people noticed that. Now…it's supremely frustrating to know that I'm far from a failure, that there is much of which I have to proud, that I ceased to be an eyesore a long time ago…and yet nothing I am or do is good enough to attract the one person I find I wish would notice."
Karp frowned, heart speeding up despite his best attempts at quashing futile hope.
"But, I told myself, it was stupid to think a merc would find anything of interest in a spoiled brat who has never left this city for more than a day and has never had to worry about money."
Fire and ash. "It's the other way around, you scorching ferret," Karp said, the sick feeling in his stomach rapidly being replaced with heat, misery fading beneath happiness. "Someone so polished would never look twice at a copper-pinching rough and ugly merc."
Andre finally turned, a frown etched deeply into his face. "Why do you always call yourself that? I thought you were just being flippant, but you're serious."
"Uh – it's true?" Karp asked.
Muttering something unintelligible, Andre abruptly reached out and yanked him close, and Karp allowed it because now that he knew he could see it and who kissed who first was impossible to tell but wholly irrelevant because his scorching ferret tasted good, as potent as good ale but as sweet as a Verde wine.
The low moan fed into his mouth was the finest thing Karp had ever heard, the hard heat pressed against his own strange but not unpleasant, and the way Andre fit against him was utter perfection.
"You're not ugly," Andre said when they finally broke apart. "I don't know who lodged that thought in your head, but he and the thought both need to die."
Karp smiled, pleased by the words even though he knew exactly what he looked like. He bent down to take another kiss, wanting to do nothing else ever again.
Unless it involved a bed and lots of nakedness. He nibbled on Andre's lips, chuckling softly. "So what exactly did they say to you last night?"
Andre rolled his eyes. "That I had better dump the stupid lover and take you instead or else."
Karp stilled. "Lover? So that man was…"
"No! Mercy of the Queen, are you all idiots?" He yanked hard at Karp's shirt. "We spent that whole morning together and I got nothing except that you seemed to despise me a little less. I was miserable. I spent the whole day cleaning my house and then purchased some company. I'm going to ki—"
Karp cut him off with a kiss, holding him tight, not letting go until breathing was absolutely required. "If it's any consolation, you tortured me each and every time you leaned over my desk."
Andre shivered in his arms and took another long, slow kiss. "We'll have to compare fantasies, sometime. But for now I think the bedroom is good enough."
"Or here," Karp said with a grin, and didn't give Andre a chance to protest.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 12:25 am (UTC)