Incline 49: Don Gamtambo

"Hm, it's quite the turnout." I remark to my wife and she fidgets away, adjusting my bow and tie. She meets my eyes with hers, just as aged and as used to all this opulence as me.

"You would think you would enjoy your word carrying this much weight." she tells me, otherwise dismissing my earlier thoughts.

"This is not about me. It's about what we as the criminal underworld have lost." I repeat to her, keeping my focus away from that scowl of hers. Guess it's a fantasy to think she would ever be happy with our marriage's main problem being gone. Though, I suppose that is simply women.

"Get going, then. You've a speech and a whole procession to head." she says, her snark coming nowhere near my heart in the slightest. I'm already bloated with the pain of losing my old friend to allow her anywhere near.

"Try to keep your thoughts to yourself, Dear." I part her with, biting back with some of my own scorn for the time being. She snorts and I do too. Her hands tighten my bow and tie like a noose. My arms throw my coat out, tightening it across my back and around my quills.

We part ways and I head for the stage, slowing down as I eye the marble chariot. I stop half-way up, a frown coming back to my face as I barely fight back tears. My old friend is finally coming to rest with his family. Most of. Deaths all the product of my will and through circumstances of his making...

I shake my head and glare such sentimentality away. My legs get my mind back on track and I walk out across the stage, already catching many eyes. Dons and made-men from all across the criminal underworld of the underground. Let alone Jherikra itself. Even a representative of that school of Suhurlodst even came. Some of Ivahstar's old business associates. 

Awkward and out of place, as she is with her coggish style and human form...

Some of my staff rush out, handling the equipment and getting it ready for me. I approach the podium, my well-prepared speech sliding in front of me. My next breath catches in my throat and I tenderly pick up some of the cards. My heart races, my lungs almost burning with emotion.

I growl and throw the cards away. Across the stage, into the band and onto some of the guests. The rain of cards disrupts the solemn music, catching in a horn and abruptly hooting the attention my way. I test the microphone, tapping it and whistling a quick tune.

"..." I sigh heavily, letting my heart speak for me rather than some paid writer.

My eyes tremble, rimmed with water that has no other source than my very soul. That which makes us all equals before the gods and monsters of this world. Though Ivahstar was no hero of old like that Thunder on the surface. Not even a simple folk boy whose name is sung in all kinds of establishments...

"First... I would like to thank you for all coming. I understand this may come as a shock to most of you here, given the past couple of decades. But we have come to honour the memory of a man that has both been your boon and bane... Mine especially." I start with, raising a crystal glass in my dead friend's honour. Some clap, others mutter. I find myself silent with grief and worry.

For all they know, it's just Ivahstar that died. The legendary Terror in the Dark is no more. But they will never know the full truth. How long it will remain that way, I do not know. This funeral and all this wealth for the sake of showing power to the other dons and respect for my dead friend is... It's all worthless.

The vendetta I started with Ivahstar is now the property of his lone daughter. A girl who has already lost so much and now she has lost everything. Much as I am the cause, my cars and guns having caused her so much grief, pain and loss. I feel for her, as any father might... As any grandfather with a soul actually worth having would.

Another heavy sigh parts my lips, "I'm sorry if you were expecting more. Fellow dons, made-men. Guests from across the Water-Veins and the surface so high above. But, my heart is weak at such words. I can barely stand here and speak of my friend's name when I've tarnished his legacy. At the very least, I can owe him this. Burying him alongside his family in a tomb fit for a king. No, an emperor of the world, the criminal world!"

My hand comes down, tightening into a fist and I look across everyone here. Ivahstar brought us all together in such a strange, poetic way. A hitman for hire, that's all he was if we boiled the man down. But the myth has paved so much for all of us, dug up so much for so many others in a way not seen since the very gods themselves walked among us.

"I... I understand that this is a little ahead on the schedule... But... Would those that were chosen please join me at the head of the chariot? I wish to rest my old friend with his family and would, in turn, love to find something soft to rest on. My heart is heavy today, and I am too old for such pain and weariness." I explain and my honour guard move about, collecting those that they need to get.

Not with any of the roughness they might handle a snitch, but with all the grace and respect a don deserves. At this moment, I am everyone's equal. There are no made-men, no dons. No snitches or street filth. No thieves or gangsters. We're equal. Mourners all.

One and all. 

"My Don, do you require aid?" my wife asks, surprising me with a sudden approach from behind. I turn her way, unable to hide the tears I have for my dead friend anymore.

"It would be appreciated... My dear." I explain, taking her hand and letting this marriage get on its way with its self-repair. The Terror in the Dark is gone. My old friend of such length is dead. I no longer have to dread his revenge while knowing the legend and the mythos of his story.

It's only that girl I have to worry about. It has been a few months since Ivahstar died. If she's alive, no. She is. There is no escaping the vendetta, the blood debt I owe... She will come for me, even if it takes her another twenty or more years.

I look to the sky, imagining the world beyond the underground and the geode-rich veins decorating such a divine treasure. A sigh parts my lips as my weak limbs carry me onwards. Undwote, Death himself. He is coming for me, the God of Vengeance at his side, commanding the Pack of Seven as much an equal as anyone can be.

"Heiya..." I breathe, recalling the name I was able to dig up from my libraries. The last daughter of the Terror in the Dark. The heir to a legacy that will see my blood flow cold. Ivahstar's word will carry on in her, and it will see me die.