Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (37 page)

 
          
Bracht
swung his head clear of the murderous blow, stabbing his sword at the killer's
midriff. The falchion pierced the rib cage. Calandryll saw the tip emerge from
the assassin's back. Then the door shuddered in its frame as the body was
slammed against the wood. He saw Bracht snarl with animal ferocity as he
twisted the blade loose, and winced as hot blood splattered his naked chest. A
strangled moan erupted from beneath the hood and the figure took a single step
forward. Bracht swung the falchion in a savage cut and more blood sprayed from
the belly. The assassin tottered. The Kern cut back and the figure grunted,
abruptly limp, the knees folding, clawed hands dropping. It fell heavily to the
floor. Bracht drove the falchion into its back and it jerked, bare feet
drumming briefly on the bloodstained carpet. Then it was still. Bracht tugged
his sword loose and turned to Calandryll. "You're wounded?"

 
          
"I...
Yes ... I don't know ..

 
          
He
shook his head as time resumed its normal passage and he realized that he heard
a fist pounding on the door, Mother Raimi's fluting voice demanding entry.

 
          
Bracht
tossed the falchion aside and hauled him to his feet. He groaned as he put
weight on his knee. The Kem lowered him to the bed. He was dimly aware that he
still clutched his own sword. The door opened to reveal Mother Raimi, dressed
in a loose gown of iridescent green that shimmered in the light of the lantern
she held. Its glow showed her the body and the two naked men, the blood that
oozed darkly over her carpet. She screamed, and two more faces, one male, the
other a woman's, appeared behind her. The woman echoed Mother Raimi's scream;
the man mouthed an oath.

 
          
Bracht
said, "He was attacked," indicating Calandryll.

 
          
Mother
Raimi said, "Surinim, fetch the lictor. Quick!"

 
          
Bracht
took the lantern from her and brought it close to Calandryll, studying his
blood-splattered torso.

 
          
"A
scratch. No more." The Kern touched his knee. "A kick?"

 
          
He
nodded. Bracht glanced over his shoulder and said, "Bring cloths and cold
water. There's a healer in this godforsaken town?"

 
          
Mother
Raimi nodded dumbly.

 
          
"Then
send for him."

 
          
"Her,"
the silver-haired woman corrected automatically, staring. Calandryll was suddenly
aware that she was brought from her sleep to a room where a corpse lay on the
floor and two naked men, one smeared with blood, sat upon the bed: he began to
laugh.

 
          
Bracht
slapped his face and said, "Now! Cloths, cold water, and then the healer.
Do it!"

 
          
The
old woman started as though his hand had landed on her cheek. She nodded to the
gaping woman at her back and said, "Go, Lyhanna," in a muted voice.

 
          
Calandryll
stopped laughing and began to shiver. Bracht tugged the sheet across his
midriff and he stared as the white linen grew slowly dark. The Kem rose,
ignoring his own nudity, and retrieved his blade. "I'll dress," he
said, and left the room. Mother Raimi stared at Calandryll, her eyes huge, her
mouth moving silently.

 
          
"I
was attacked," he said, aware that his teeth chattered. "I was asleep
and I woke to find him here." He gestured at the corpse. "He tried to
kill me."

 
          
Lyhanna
came back then and set wadded cloth and a pitcher of water on the floor by the
door. She appeared unwilling to enter the room.

 
          
"He
tried to kill me," Calandryll repeated. "He would have killed me had
Bracht not stopped him."

 
          
Mother
Raimi nodded, her eyes not leaving his face. She seemed afraid to move or
speak, as if he might spring from the bed and attack her. Bracht pushed her
gently aside. He was dressed in his black leathers, the falchion sheathed on
his waist, his dark hair bound in its customary ponytail. He crossed to the bed
and soaked a cloth in water, wadding it about Calandryll's knee.

 
          
"Hold
it there," he ordered.

 
          
He
lit the room's lanterns and knelt beside the corpse. Calandryll watched as he
turned the body over. Mother Raimi gasped as the ravaged belly was exposed.

 
          
Bracht
said mildly, "He was hard to kill. I wonder who he was.”

 
          
He
drew the hood clear of the face and Calandryll gasped as he saw Mehemmed's
features exposed.

 
          
"He's
just a boy," Mother Raimi said softly.

 
          
Bracht
said, "He's a dead assassin."

 
          
Calandryll
said, "Was he Chaipaku?"

 
          
Bracht
shrugged. "What else?"

 
          
Mother
Raimi said, "I want no trouble here. Not with the Chaipaku. You'd best
leave at dawn."

 
          
Bracht
glanced at Calandryll and said, "If he can walk.”

 
          
Calandryll
said nothing: he was staring at Mehemmed with his thoughts in turmoil. Who
would employ the Brotherhood of Assassins to slay him? Surely not Azumandias,
for he had magic at his disposal. His father? No: By lath might post him
outlaw—would surely punish him sorely for his flight—but not even that wrathful
rnan would hire killers to hunt down his son. Then Tobias? Would his own
brother stoop so low? He licked dry lips as ugly suspicion became cold
certainty: Tobias was of such a bent did he but consider Calandryll a potential
threat to his accession. And the very fact of Calandryll s disappearance from
Secca might well suggest he designed some strategem against his brother. Yes
Tobias, jealous of his position, perhaps fearing Calandryll might raise allies
to support a claim to Secca's throne, he would use the Chaipaku.

           
"Why did he wait
'til now?" Bracht murmured. Why not while we were at sea? And the woman on
the warboat—did she know him?"

 
          
"At
sea, he might have been found out, Calandryll suggested dully "Perhaps he
waited until now so that he could flee when ek'Jemm sets sail. I think he had
nothing to do with the woman. I think he was sent after me, not.. ."He
slid a hand beneath his pillows, touching the satchel.

           
Bracht frowned and said, "Your
brother? Your father?"

 
          
"Tobias,"
Calandryll nodded, and laughed bitterly. "My brother! I believe it was my brother,
fearing for his throne."

 
          
"And
the woman serves Azumandias. So it seems we are hunted by wizard and Chaipaku,
both." Bracht grinned humorlessly. "It seems I shall earn my
pay."

 
          
Calandryll
looked at the corpse again. Mehemmed was about his own age, likely younger. Did
Tobias fear him so much? Was his lust for power so great? He was about to speak
when boots thudded in the corridor outside and the officer they had seen on the
quay entered, flanked by six soldiers, Surinim peering curiously over their
shoulders. Mother Raimi favored him with a grateful look, as if she at last
felt safe.

 
          
"Who
killed him?" the lictor demanded curtly.

 
          
"I
did," said Bracht.

 
          
"He
tried to kill me," said Calandryll.

 
          
The
officer studied them both, his dark face expressionless, then he nudged
Mehemmed's body.

 
          
"Chaipaku,"
he said thoughtfully. "Why should the Brotherhood hunt you?"

 
          
Calandryll
shrugged helplessly. Bracht said, "Our rivals—Lord Varent's rivals. Likely
they hired him."

 
          
The
lictor nodded. "Rahamman ek'Jemm said you were on some secret mission for
this lord of Aldarin. Do you bring your trade wars to
Kandahar
?"

 
          
"We
sought no trouble," Bracht said. "Calandryll was attacked while he
slept."

 
          
"But
still I have a corpse," the lictor said. "And albeit it's a Chaipaku,
there are still questions that require answers. You'd best come with me."

 
          
"He's
hurt." Bracht spoke quickly, glancing at Calandryll. "He can't
walk."

 
          
Calandryll
groaned in confirmation. The lictor glanced at Mother Raimi, who said,
"I've sent Lyhanna for the healer."

 
          
"We'll
wait," the lictor decided. "If Suleimana declares him unfit to walk,
then he can stay here."

 
          
"And
Bracht?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
"Finds
lodgings in my cells," said the lictor. "Until the district podesta
tries his case."

 
          
"What
case?" Bracht demanded angrily. "A Chaipaku assassin attempted to
kill the man I'm hired to guard—I do my duty, no more."

 
          
The
lictor shrugged, turning to draw the dagger from the woodwork.

 
          
"Likely
that's true, but I've a duty, too. And that requires me to hold you until the
podesta can investigate. Until then, you're my guest." He smiled briefly.
"You'll save a var or two on your bed and board."

 
          
"We
have business to attend," Calandryll protested.

 
          
"If
you can't walk, you can't travel," came the unyielding answer. "The
podesta should arrive within three weeks and you'll likely be free to go then.
But until then ..."

 
          
He
shrugged expressively. Calandryll and Bracht exchanged glances. The Kem smiled
coldly. "It seems we must wait," he said, nodding in the direction of
the watchful soldiers.

 
          
Calandryll
ducked his head, silently cursing Tobias. He had not anticipated their
whereabouts would be so quickly discovered!, and the thought of kicking his
heels in Mherut'yi until the podesta arrived chilled him afresh: if Mehemmed
had been able to find him, despite all Varent's precautions, then so might
another of the Brotherhood. Or the mysterious woman.

 
          
The
soldiers parted then, admitting a stem-featured woman wearing a light cape and
carrying a large leather bag. She pushed the hood back to reveal a head of
thick auburn hair, glancing at the lictor.

 
          
"Well,
Philomen, I can see one's beyond repair, so who is it I attend at this ungodly
hour?"

 
          
The
lictor bowed, pointing at Calandryll.

 
          
"That
one, Suleimana. They say his knee's damaged."

 
          
The
woman nodded and shed her cape. She wore a plain brown robe beneath, smoothing
its folds as she settled herself on the bed beside Calandryll. She glanced
briefly at his leg and said, "This may hurt."

 
          
He
winced his agreement as she probed his knee, then moaned it as she took his
ankle in both hands and turned his leg back and forth.

 
          
"It's
not broken," she declared. Then smiled fleetingly as she added,
"You'd have screamed if it were—the knee's a delicate thing."

           
"Can he walk?" the lictor
asked.

 
          
"Burash,
no!" The woman shook her head. "Not for a day or two, and then he'll
be limping a while. I'll set a compress on it, but he'd best stay here in bed
for the next two days. After that, I'll see."