Silence met him. Japheth girded himself for what he knew would come next.

"I'm the one you want," said a tall young man, stepping forward. He was twenty-odd years old but scarred and tattooed with more hard living than most could claim in double that span. According to one story, this bastard had killed a whole family in their home by sealing them in and then burning the structure down. "I'm Dherk. The Razorhides do what I say. What's it to-"

Japheth muttered a spell, one of the few he hadn't got from the Lord of Bats. An iron spear appeared in Japheth's right hand, glowing cherry red with infernal heat. The warlock hurled it. The spear transfixed Dherk's left thigh through his spiky leather armor, nailing him to the brewery's dusty plank floor.

A scream of surprise burst from Dherk. Blood trickled from his impaled leg.

"You're wrong," Japheth yelled over Dherk's outburst and shouts from the others. UI lead the Razorhides.

Starting today. Understand?"

"Get this bloodlicking sheepstraddler!" screamed Dherk as tears of pain glistened on his cheek.

So much for bluffing, thought Japheth. He produced from his cloak a whorled nautilus shell on a hemp cord. It represented a little extra insurance he'd prepared in case the Razorhides proved defiant.

Japheth blew on the shell. In answer, something smashed at the front doors of the abandoned brewery. Several heads swung nervously to regard the entrance.

The warlock said, "I didn't come alone. In fact, a friend of mine is at the door-"

A crossbow quarrel whistled toward him. His cloak caught the bolt and pulled it noiselessly out of the world before it found his flesh, but he dropped the nautilus amulet.

A tough charged Japheth, a dagger in each hand.

The warlock snatched up the shell, but he'd misjudged the dagger-wielder's distance. The kid was on him.