Book 3, Chapter 51

“I’m kind of offended that you think so little of me,” Sorin said. A plane of force swatted away the closest enemy, knocking him into and then through the wall between the main room and the bedroom. “Or are you just so stupid that you don’t understand what you’re up against?”

Strands of force, invisible to the naked eye but stronger than steel, ensnared the whole team of Galdyrin vassals. In less time than it took to tell it, all of them were immobilized. Against normal climbers, that likely would have been enough, but Sorin wasn’t willing to assume none of them could cast a spell without moving their hands.

Ah, there it is, he thought. Observer showed a trickle of anima through the aura of the one in the back, the woman the others had subtly moved to stand in front of as they closed in around Sorin. Sorin wasn’t completely sure what the spell was, but from the way it zipped out of his range in an instant, he knew it was some sort of communication magic.

Summoning help was probably the only move that had any percentage of victory for their side, though it would still be a numbers game to bring him down. Sorin wasn’t interested in killing anyone, so he was holding back for the moment, but if they wanted to escalate, he might change his mind. As long as the reinforcements weren’t too strong, though, he’d continue to restrain himself.

“We shouldn’t trash the house,” Sorin said with a frown. “Let’s wait for whoever you summoned outside, yeah?”

“Uh, boss, you kind of already trashed the place,” Heldigar pointed out.

Sorin eyed the hole in the wall, then shrugged. “Easy fix. Nothing structurally wrong with that wall.”

“Debatable,” Heldigar muttered.

The vassals were forced into a line and unceremoniously shoved through the front door, with the one who’d been tossed into the bedroom the last one out. In that time, a second communication pulse came from the woman and shot off in a different direction.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m going to make you stop,” Sorin warned her. “Seriously, if a damn army descends on us, I won’t be able to go easy on you guys. I’d rather not have to kill anyone because of some asshole who thinks he’s important just because his dad wants to throw a temper tantrum.”

Once the enemies were out in the street, Sorin walked over to Heldigar and placed a hand on his shoulder. Healing magic swept through the man, instantly closing the bleeding scalp wound and repairing a few smaller cuts, bruises, and scrapes. Then he handed the man the soulprint and whispered, “Tell Odric to absorb this and get to work. He knows what it is.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode out through the door and looked around. Everything was more or less what he’d expected—the citizens fleeing, the vassals restrained, and the unmistakable but subtle pressure of power in the air. Someone was coming.

Or already here, he corrected himself. Observer should have caught them, but everything had a counter. It was experience that showed him where to look, not powerful magic. And even then, he didn’t see them so much as he noted the absence of what he should have seen.

It was the shadow being a sliver too dark, a mismatch to its surroundings where the climber’s magic had failed to properly camouflage them. The details wouldn’t have mattered to someone not capable of perceiving the difference, or to someone who could but wasn’t looking for something that subtle.

The calculation wasn’t a conscious effort. The assassin moved; Sorin reacted, and by the time any observers could catch up to the action, he held a man-shaped blur of darkness by the throat with one hand. The other clasped the aggressor’s wrist, preventing a stiletto from piercing his eye.

Sorin spun and slammed the assassin down onto the street, cracking the stones and driving them several inches into the rubble before he let go. “Usually people start with a ‘hello’ before they begin the murder attempt,” he said. “But I suppose I shouldn’t expect manners just because you work for a high family.”

The assassin’s reply came out as a choked wheeze that slowly rose in pitch as Sorin placed a foot on their chest and pressed down. They were rank 16, highly respectable for the red tower, but utterly insufficient for the task at hand. Trusting their soulprints to let them strike a crippling opening blow against a vastly superior target was a mistake most assassins only got to make once.

I really am just too nice, but I suppose if any of them were actual threats, I might feel differently.

“Your bosses are overreacting,” Sorin told them. “I needed a specialized healer. All I did was inquire about one at their house. It’s not like I’d have kidnapped the woman or refused to pay for the treatment if she’d been able to do it.”

“I think my dad’s more pissed about the way you broke into the compound,” a new voice said from the side.

Sorin looked over to see a man dressed in red armor, a shield on his left arm and a broadsword held in his right hand. A gold diadem with a fat ruby in the center rested on his brow, and the cloak hanging off his shoulders split down the middle, allowing it to flair out like a pair of wings when the wind caught it just right.

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“It was a time-sensitive situation,” Sorin told him. Rank 24. Huh. I think he might be the first one I’ve seen outside the Black Hellions. Fully kitted out with all the wealth a high family has to spend, too.

“You might be surprised to learn that the patriarch of a high family doesn’t care about your time-sensitive situation,” the man told him with a chuckle.

“I suspect he would be equally surprised to learn that I don’t care what he does or does not care about.”

“No, no, I think he got the message on that one.”

Sorin was surprised to find he rather liked this guy. He was dangerous, and it would probably come to a fight, but it wouldn’t be the first time Sorin had killed someone he would have happily shared a drink with under different circumstances.

“Fair enough,” Sorin said. “Now, you can see your family’s retainers and vassals are alive and... mostly unharmed. What can we do to settle this without resorting to knocking down buildings and disturbing the peace of this whole neighborhood?”

“Have you considered surrendering and facing judgment?” the man asked with such earnestness that Sorin couldn’t help but laugh.

“I confess that the thought never crossed my mind. Now that you bring it up, though, I find I don’t care for it. Perhaps an alternative?”

“I can’t speak for my old man, but I’m willing to hear you out if you’ve got an idea,” the Galdyrin scion said.

“I’ll assume him chilling the fuck out is off the table,” Sorin said. “But let’s start with letting your retainers go in exchange for relocating this fight somewhere that won’t trash the city. Any floor you’d like is fine by me if we’re going to fight.”

“God, you’re confident, aren’t you? I guess you’ve got a reason to be at rank 23, but don’t you think you’re just making things worse by mouthing off? You’re one guy. We’re an entire climbing family, arguably the strongest in the whole tower.”

“You can’t imagine how terrified I am inside,” Sorin said dryly. “I’m just really good at not showing it. Now, deal? Unharmed minions in exchange for relocation?”

The man cast an appraising look down the street, not that he needed to. Sorin didn’t believe for a second that he wasn’t already perfectly aware of everyone’s condition. It was a bit of theater, perhaps designed to buy him a few seconds, or perhaps just because the guy liked being dramatic. The overly robust sigh he let out at the end confirmed it for Sorin.

Definitely just loves the drama.

“Fine. What floor would you pick?”

“How about we choose once we get to the portal hub? We wouldn’t want anyone sneaking off there to set up a trap ahead of time,” Sorin offered. Not that it would make much of a difference.

“Sensible. Smart. I can appreciate that.” The man sheathed his sword in a single smooth motion and gestured toward the vassals still caught in Force Weaver.

Sorin released them with a thought and stepped away from the would-be assassin. “Perhaps get them some medical attention,” he murmured to the vassals. “I definitely broke a few ribs there. No rush, but sooner is probably better than later.”

“Uh...” one of them said, blinking slowly as he looked from Sorin to the assassin and back again. “Yeah, uh...”

“Just do it,” the Galdyrin heir said with a roll of his eyes.

Sorin walked off with the man at a casual pace, nothing a rank 0 couldn’t have matched. “Care to share a name? I don’t want to just think of you as the red guy forever, you know?”

“Galdred,” the man said.

“You’re kidding? Galdred Galdyrin? Was it a rough pregnancy for your mom? Was she seeking vengeance on you in the cradle?”

Galdred chuckled. “Family name. The first born of every generation gets it. I think the old man was always resentful that my uncle got it in his generation, even if he ended up patriarch despite being second-born.”

There was a story there, but Sorin wasn’t particularly interested in the sordid past of a high family in a tower that wasn’t even his own. The conversation was mostly just a way to pass time while they walked and the Galdyrins set up whatever kind of trap it was they were preparing.

I wonder if they’ll attack at the hub itself, or if they’re assembling a strike team to follow us through the portal and overwhelm me on the other side. Probably the latter, if they’re smart. But it’s not like I’ve seen a lot of evidence of intelligence so far. Just petty tyrants motivated by their wounded pride.

“I’m sure you already know that I’m Sorin,” he said.

“Of course. We’ve done some extensive digging, and it’s honestly quite curious. Prior to a year or so back, you don’t seem to exist. The earliest anybody remembers you, you were a rank 0, but somehow you’re already up to 23. I was hoping to get a chance to ask you about how you did that.”

“Trade secret, I’m afraid.”

“Disappointing,” Galdred said, but he was still smiling. “I don’t really understand the rush, either. You’ve got one floor left before you hit the wall. Why are you hurrying?”

“You know about Samael and his gang?” Sorin asked.

“Of course. He disappeared not too long ago. The rumors... But then, rumors are often exaggerated.”

“If you heard that he’s dead, you heard correctly,” Sorin said. “And you seem like a smart guy who’s on top of things, so you know that his little mutagenic army isn’t holding the void back like they used to.”

“And so you’re throwing yourself headlong into danger in an attempt to help? How noble,” Galdred said.

“It’s a bit more mercenary than that. Let’s just say I’ve been hired to take care of a problem, and the sooner I do it, the easier it’s going to be.”

Galdred gave Sorin a sidelong look, obviously thinking something unflattering along the lines of ‘This guy is crazy.’ He tactfully kept that thought to himself, and within a few seconds, he’d resumed his easy-going demeanor.

They passed through the portal guards without comment or bother, a privilege of wealth and prestige that Sorin would have envied if he’d needed to use the portal hub. They came to a halt before the red glowing disc of light and observed it for a moment.

“You’re sure you’d rather fight than surrender? I’ll try to go easy on you, but you know how fights at this level go. I can’t promise you’ll survive.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Sorin said. “Would you like to pick the floor, or shall I?”

“I’m not too particular.”

“Let’s make it somewhere without a lot of people. I’d hate for some low-rank climber to get caught up in the crossfire.”

“Darn right noble of you to feel that way,” Galdred told him. “Floor 5? Plenty of open space there.”

“I was thinking more like Floor 20.”

That way, only the true elites of your family can even access the floor to interfere.

“Hmm. The monsters would become a factor at that high a floor,” Galdred said. He flashed Sorin a grin. “Sounds fun. Let’s do it.”

With a hand on each other’s shoulders, they moved in lockstep through the portal.