The Light of Heaven (15 page)

"I see what you mean. The target's names are Erak Brand and Gabriella DeZantez. We'll try to keep you updated on their location, but that may not always be possible. For now, they are preparing to go to a town called Solnos, in the lands controlled by Lord Aristide of Fayence."

"It's hard to find someone who doesn't want to be found, outside of the cities."

"Too much trouble?"

"Merely more expensive." Batsen said.

"No trouble. In any case, they'll have a base of sorts. There is a small church in the town of Solnos and both targets will be based there. They may be founding a Preceptory of the Order in the town. As to the fee -"

"Negotiations about the fee are fairly unimportant. I get what I want, or you get someone else." Batsen paused. "I don't mean to sound rude, arrogant or greedy, but it's better to be honest about these things."

"You come highly recommended and the price is unlikely to be an object."

"Five hundred gold, plus ten more per week or part of a week as expenses. The five hundred to be payable in advance. Is that wildly fantastical?"

"Highly expensive, but no, not fantastical."

"Then consider your two problematic members of the Faith gone. As I mentioned before, if there are any special requirements, feel free to request them."

"None," the voice said. "Use your judgement to remove them in whatever manner you deem most efficient. The important thing is that they die, not how."

With that the strange black cloud shrank and, in a few moments, it was gone.

"Impressive," Batsen murmured to himself. Then he lit a few more lamps and began to select the clothes and equipment he would need for the new mission.

CHAPTER 8

The village sat alone in the western savannah between the city of Fayence and the cliffs that dropped away to the sea far below. It was a long way from any major roads. There was no church here and no market square. Most of the modest houses surrounded a large corral, with a barn and stables next to it. A well stood on the other side of the corral.

The sound of drums, warlike and filled with brutal passion, was in the air. It insinuated itself through the surrounding fields with liquid ease and sent small creatures scampering back to their hollowed lairs.

A man ran between two of the houses, shooting frightened glances behind him. Suddenly, a figure leapt upon him from the shadows and they both rolled in the dust. Three more figures sprinted out and joined in the feast, ripping chunks of flesh from the man and consuming them hurriedly.

Other figures ran through the streets, illuminated by the torches they carried. The creatures had leathery skin ridged with scales, red eyes, and lanky limbs with stringy muscles that, while thin, were as strong as iron. Their teeth were filed to points and their torsos were draped in belts holding crude knives. The screams that disturbed the night as the creatures smashed in doors and tore people from their beds were quickly silenced.

Kratok-Chal watched his brethren hunt, then took his fill from the man whom he had brought down. It had been a long time since he had fed properly. Even the humans in the last little hamlet his tribe had passed through had been worthless. They had been no more than skin and bone, their animals no better.

Kratok-Chal and his fellow Rabash weren't looking for prisoners or slaves this time. They were hungry and had been for some weeks. This kind of land was strange to them, but there was nowhere else that might offer the food and space they needed. They had tried venturing into the great Sardenne forest several Tendays ago, but that had been a mistake; a fatal mistake for more than half the tribes.

Kratok-Chal shuddered at the thought of the things he had seen there. There were creatures in there that were far worse than men or Ogur, or even Rabash.

The Sardenne would not be their salvation, and they couldn't return to their nesting grounds, so the chiefs had brought them to the savannah. Sources of food were scarcer here, but at least threats could be seen from further away. Nothing would ambush them and they could seek out the villages and towns that dotted the lands between the cities.

The humans who lived in this village were taller than the Rabash blood and stronger over short periods, but the Rabash whom the humans called goblins were tougher, more built for stamina than speed or strength. A well-trained and very fit human could run for perhaps an hour at most but the average Rabash could keep up the same pace for three or four times as long.

Kratok-Chal knew there were other humans in this land. It would be a good hunting ground, even if he felt strange being so far from the rocks he knew. Perhaps his kind had been done a favour, he considered, when they had been exiled and forced on this journey. He hadn't felt that way at the time, but Kratok-Chal knew that there was a balance to life. It was a balance he looked forward to maintaining, because he knew it would fill the emptiness in his belly with the fullness of warm meat.

Few humans used to come the territories of the Rabash and the most recent ones had come with fire and iron. Their homes had been destroyed and so they had been forced out of the mountains and into the human lands. It could be worse, Kratok-Chal considered, at least the humans here had no hostility in them, and they seemed to be in plentiful supply. This was a good hunting ground and the prey was more worthy.

A few days' east of Andon, but still a couple of days' north of Fayence, Gabriella DeZantez was glad to see the end of a long ride and curious to see how her and Erak's destination looked. The pair were accompanied by a couple of dozen men-at-arms and a handful of squires and apprentices, as was common for Knights on the road. Since they had now been assigned to Solnos, and there was no Preceptory of the Swords there. The foot-soldiers would be assigned to duties at the church in town until called upon.

The short column clattered across a sun-bleached but solid wooden bridge. The river it crossed was neither wide nor fast; it curled around the northern outskirts of town, caressing it with gentle waters. Beyond the town, an escarpment rose to the south before sloping away in the direction of Fayence.

The town itself was a little smaller than Kalten and it sprawled across the savannah between river and escarpment. An archway stood over the approach from the bridge, but there was no wall around the town. The one and two-storey buildings seemed to be mostly made of adobe bricks, formed around a wooden framework. Tiny black window-spaces peeped out here and there from the blinding white plaster. Gabriella thought they were strangely like black eyes watching her and she was sure there were real eyes inside, doing exactly that. The thought amused her. A few of those eyes would be alarmed or hateful, but most would be curious and excited. As if proving her thought correct, several children emerged cautiously from the adobe houses and scuttled alongside them, admiring the horses and riders.

A few children were playing stickball in the street and Gabriella couldn't help smiling. They were just who she was here to protect.

The travellers drew a few curious, suspicious or downright hostile looks, but most people ignored them. They were too busy trading at the market that dominated the town square. Gabriella looked around, admiring the banners and paper lanterns that hung above and the bolts of silk in shops that hid under bright awnings.

The smell of food fought with other, less palatable, smells but none of them deflected her from the scent of spices coming from a three-storey brick and wood building on the next corner. The carved shutters over the windows were open and folded back, so she could see almost entirely through the ground floor.

The place was well-populated, with steaming bowls on many tables, and laughing faces enjoying their contents. A couple of girls in tight, if well-worn, silks were ferrying bottles and mugs around.

There was a second, smaller square, with an elaborate fountain, a short way past the market. This plaza was open in front of the church. The church was bleached as bone-white as everything else in the region. Three walls were thick adobe, faced with whitewashed plaster. Facing the fountain was a sandstone façade with a turret at each end and a dome-covered bell tower. Roasting gibbets were elevated in all four corners, but none were occupied. Judging by the rust on them, none had been used in a long time.

As the short column approached the church, a number of people had followed them. They could sense that something interesting was in the offing. Gabriella was glad to see this reaction; it would do them good to see the Faith come here and reassure them that it would look after their souls as diligently as it looked after the souls of Vos families.

A couple of streets away, Dai Batsen watched the knights of the Swords canter along. He was on a balcony and the sun was at his back, but he knew they couldn't see him for he had gathered the shadows around himself.

There was only one woman in the group, a red-headed Knight holding herself proud in the saddle. There were no other groups of the Swords in the area, so this was certainly the DeZantez woman, the first of his targets. He gathered the air in front of him, creating a magnifying effect. Now he could study her features. The arched eyebrows, the nose, and most especially those distinctive mismatched eyes. He'd have no trouble recognising her again. As if drawn by his gaze she turned her head, frowning slightly.

Now he looked at the faces of the men in the group. The only mounted man was in his prime, lean with a face full of sharp lines. It was reasonable to assume that this was Erak Brand, if the two targets were of equal rank. Batsen never assumed anything, however, and wished to be sure that there had been no changes to the knights' manpower before the left Andon. It wouldn't do to kill this man and then find that Brand had been held back for some reason.

It would be a simple enough matter to ride down in wind and shadow and eliminate the entire group, but then he could not be sure that he wouldn't still have to find and deal with Brand. And as he was being paid to eliminate two people, he didn't believe in charity.

No, the best approach would be to watch DeZantez and let her confirm Brand's identity for him. Then he could take them both together and collect his fee with the minimum amount of fuss.

Gabriella and Erak dismounted in the little plaza in front of the church, and a couple of squires immediately took the horses' reins and led them towards the stables near the cloisters. Gabriella arched her back and yawned.

"So, this is home while we pursue our man."

Erak nodded. "I imagine it's too much to hope he's right here in town."

"We'd have heard all about it from Enlightened One Stoll if he was." Gabriella flashed him a smile. "But where would the fun be in that?"

She looked around at the little plaza and the people in it. She knew Erak had been expecting the people of Pontaine to be wearing different clothes, or be somehow foreign in appearance, but she knew better. There were more pastel colours, but in general people wore much the trews and jerkins and robes as did the people in the Empire. The main difference seemed to be that clothes were less padded here as it was noticeably warmer this far south.

The church door opened and a tall, thin man with untidy straw-coloured hair emerged. He hurried down the stone steps to greet the new arrivals, smoothing down the sky-blue robes that he wore. A silver crossed-circle rattled on a fine chain as he approached with an eager smile.

"Enlightened Brother, Enlightened Sister, please allow me to welcome you to Solnos and, indeed, to Pontaine. I'm Kurt Stoll." He thrust out a hand, which Gabriella shook.

"Gabriella DeZantez," she said, "and Erak Brand. And, as it happens, this is something of a homecoming for me. I was born in Andon."

Stoll raised his eyebrows. "Andon, eh? There's a DeZantez at the Cathedral archive there... Marta, isn't it?"

"My mother," Gabriella confirmed. She liked this man immediately and was surprised to realise how quickly she was beginning to feel at home.

"Of course," he said warmly. "The resemblance is obvious." He hesitated and glanced at Erak. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Brother Brand. I didn't mean to exclude you. It's been such a long time since I enjoyed the company of my fellow clergy. Please, come inside. If you wish to pray, confess, eat, or simply freshen yourselves after your journey, it will be so."

"They all sound good to me," Erak said. "Freshening-up first, though."

"Definitely," Gabriella agreed.

She went to find a suitable cell in the cloisters. It was simple but comfortable, with a low bed, a chair, stool, table, water-basin and jug. She hauled off her mail shirt and hung it on a beam and sank gratefully into the chair. She felt that she stank and briefly wondered whether any of the townspeople would mind if she spent some time in their fountain. She smiled to herself, deciding that, having just come to put an end to one source of moral laxness, it wouldn't do to risk being the inspiration for the next one.

She washed in water from the jug and changed into a tunic and jerkin, with a white tabard bearing the symbol of the Faith over it all.

Erak had done likewise, and now they were both ready to join the Enlightened One for refreshments.

No-one in the crowded tavern on the corner of Solnos' market square paid much attention to Dai Batsen. He was just another customer, leaning against a wall.

Even the tapster behind the bar hadn't noticed that this customer had been nursing the one mug all afternoon.

Batsen himself paid the keenest attention to everyone in the tavern. He could tell at a glance which were the local workmen trying to drown the stresses of a long day; which were the travellers looking for refreshment after a journey; which were the smugglers and thieves; which were the eyes, ears and noses of a Vos Duke, a Pontaine Lord, or the Final Faith.

He was also able to tell which worked in the stables used by the Knights who had recently arrived. He watched as a scruffy-haired burly lad came back from the bar with two mugs of beer. The lad was Kurt Stoll's chief altar boy and Batsen had been buying the lad drinks for the past hour.