Mirrorworld (36 page)

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Authors: Daniel Jordan

BOOK: Mirrorworld
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“I’m content with never,” he said decisively.

“No chance,” Kendra said. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Anywhere that’s not that inn!”

“Well, I think we’ve already accomplished that, so what’s the next stop?”

Marcus made a sound of woe before deciding “back to our ride, we have to leave town!”

“Well, hello,” the Assassin said, as they staggered up to where the coach was parked. “You two are back early. More mischief? Anything I can kill for money?” He was sat on the roof of the coach, legs dangling over the side, once more smoking idly and looking for all the world as if he was having the time of his life. Marcus waved at him absently, dived into the coach, shoved Fervesce’s sleeping self aside and stuffed the scythe as far down amongst their collective luggage as he could manage. The weapon’s aura of menace had strengthened significantly following the encounter with Death, so Marcus dug and dug until he could feel it no more, only then allowing himself to relax a tiny bit.

“Where are the others?” he asked, poking his head out of the window and scanning the crowds, which currently appeared to contain a net total of zero skeletons.

The Assassin glanced at Kendra, who was still grinning widely. “Well, I imagine our dear leader is still out doing his thing. For my part, it didn’t take long to get supplies for the horses, as the stable master was very kind to me after I pointed out the huge favour I was doing him by not killing him on sight. The nasty little man is presumably still out turning our money into more money. So what have you two been up to?”

“Battling the Grim Reaper,” Kendra said, as Marcus said “nothing, why?”

The Assassin rolled his eyes, before flipping his legs up onto the roof and lying down. “Fine, don’t tell me. I know I asked, but I don’t really care.”

“Are you just going to hide in there, now?” Kendra asked, leaning in through the window as Marcus attempted and failed to make himself comfortable amongst the jagged piles of luggage.

“Yes,” he said. “Until we leave town.”

“But wouldn’t leaving town be the first thing Death would expect you to do?”

There was silence for a moment. “Yes,” Marcus said slowly, “I’m banking on him anticipating that I will anticipate him anticipating that, and therefore not expect me to leave straight away, meaning he’ll waste some time looking around the city, giving us time to actually leave.”

Kendra looked impressed. “That’s brilliant! Wait, did you just make that up because you hadn’t thought of that yet?”

“No,” Marcus lied. “It’s all in hand. Could you come inside please? He saw you too, yes?”

“Ehh I don’t think he was really concentrating on me. Ooh – another thing – how can you be sure he can’t do something spooky like follow the scent of the scythe, and track you anyway?”

“I don’t think he can,” Marcus said, truthfully this time. “Or he would have already.”

“Already? How long has this been going on for?”

“If I tell you, will you please come inside?”

“Sold. Tell me all of the things.”

And so Marcus found himself, as Kendra made herself comfortable sitting on Fervesce, relaying for the first time the full story of exactly what had happened on the night he’d been dragged into the Mirrorworld; almost dying, accidentally acquiring Death’s staff, and then their later meeting where he’d discovered exactly how much trouble he was in. Kendra absorbed all of this information with a suspiciously blank expression, although for his part Marcus felt much better having shared it. When he finished, however, her solemn poise split into the biggest grin he’d ever seen.

“Oh Marcus,” she said, springing forward and giving him a hug, “this is fantastic!”

“That.. is not the reaction I expected,” he said, awkwardly extracting himself.

“But it’s wonderful!” she said, bathing him in the light of her smile. “Y’see, what you just told me completely disproves a faint little niggity worry that I’ve had all this time, that maybe the only reason you were going along with all this was in pursuit of a certain death.” She ran a hand through her hair sheepishly. “I was even getting a little concerned that I might have pushed you to it, yakking on about picking a reason for what you were doing, especially when you were telling Fervesce stories and I could see how unhappy you were with everything that’s happened. But no!” she almost yelled, cheerful again, “then this happens, and it turns out the opposite is true and that you’ve been literally
and
figuratively running away from death this whole time. That’s great news!”

“I don’t know that I would go so far as to call it
great
,” Marcus said, “but..” he paused, scratching absently at the back of his head as memories of his own actions, of things Death had said and of the things Kendra was now intimating, scuffled for prominence at the forefront of his brain, and proved her right. “You’re right,” he said, slowly. “Kendra, I barely lived through a whole bunch of wasted years. I watched money, friends, relationships and all that other ‘good’ stuff come and go, and I felt no more or less bitter and disinterested when I had them than when I didn’t. That would have been the legacy of my life, but for an exploding jukebox. On my last night on Earth I would probably have thrown up my hands and gone with Death, no complaints. But now, it’s all different, and even though I could go, and it’s more urgently available and pressing than ever..” he looked into Kendra’s dark eyes, saw the sunshine at the heart of her ever-widening smile, and felt his spirits lift very slightly as part of the mental puzzle slipped into place. “Now, I don’t want to. I kind of lost the thought about having faith in the future, but either way, it’s still my future, and I’d like to see it. That’s good, right? Aah,” he added, as Kendra dived forward and hugged him again.

“Marcus, you numpty,” she said, leaning back, and to his surprise, wiping tears from her eyes. “All that stuff you had and lost, that’s all it is –
stuff.
It doesn’t make a life. Even people don’t. I mean, we totally act like material possessions and good people are all that we need, but really all we need is a bit of purpose, a thing that we’re enthusiastic about, something to tell us it’s all worth the time. And sometimes we might not know what it is until someone tries to take it from us.” She grinned.” Keeping your life your own, that can be your thing! I mean,” she added, suddenly going serious, “that’s not everything, because, y’know, I’m pretty sure you could aim a
bit
higher
than ‘try not to die’
, and we’re definitely gonna have more words on the whole way you keep trying to push aside your past, because I don’t think that’s a good idea either, but yeah, on the whole..”

“Ssh,” Marcus said. “Stop ruining my moment.”

“’Kay,” she said, giggling.

“Right,” he said, shifting to a more comfortable position as the more trepidatious, day-to-day concerns of surviving being hunted by the incarnate force of death appropriated the goodwill centre of his brain for their own purposes, reminding him as they did of the closeness of the preceding encounter and how he was most likely still in really quite serious danger. “Whatever else may be, I’m not getting out of the coach until we leave town. Since it appears that I’m quite attached to my existence, I’m going to behave in the appropriate manner and hide myself the hell away. Okay?”

“Okay!” Kendra said, and Marcus got the feeling she’d have agreed with him no matter what he’d said at that point. He couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious about the buoyant mood he seemed to have put her in, especially considering that her very next action was to vault out of the coach chaotically and started skipping off down the street. “Hey!” he called, “where-“

“I’m going to go find Musk and Lucin, and hustle them back so we can leave,” she yelled back. “Don’t go anywhere!”

“But Death..” Marcus called feebly, as she gave him a wave and vanished around a corner.

“I’m glad I’m getting well compensated for all this,” the Assassin murmured from above, “because this shit is bonkers.”

 

Over the course of the next two hours, which Marcus spent lurking in the coach, peeking out, his nervousness did not abate in the slightest. Death did not appear, but with every passing minute there seemed to be more guards lurking around the gate area, just across the way from where the coach was parked. Groups of less officially dressed but no less well-armed people were also circling the small plaza, before breaking off down the adjacent streets and looping back around, exchanging upon their return grim shakes of the head with those who remained. There was a distinct aura of hunters searching for their prey, in a manner reminiscent of the tricksters in Plumm – the only difference was that these hunters appeared much less nervous; presumably, they were hunting smaller game.

“What do you think of this?” he called up to the Assassin at one point.

“I don’t know,” the man said, “but I do not like it.” Marcus heard a faint rasp of metal, followed by a clonk that he took to be the man drawing his long sword and laying it next to him.

Musk appeared not long after this exchange, being almost dragged along by Kendra. They received no small amount of suspicious glances as they dragged the cartful of supplies they had bought back with them over to the coach, and began loading it. Marcus kept his position hidden in shadow, and the Assassin did not move to help either, keeping his eyes trained on the crowds.

“What’s going on?” Musk asked. “Why does everyone seem so on edge?”

“I don’t know,” the Assassin said again, “but I do believe we should be leaving soon.”

Kendra gave Marcus a worried glance. He shrugged, but she didn’t see him in the gloom.

“Fair enough,” Musk said, strolling over to tend to the horses, “we have everything we need.. except Lucin. Where is he?”

They didn’t find an answer to that question until another nervous half hour had crept by. The short man came charging into the busy plaza unannounced, a heavy sack of money swung over his shoulder. His bird flew ahead of him, squawking urgently. The assembled Viaggiatori turned to regard the man with morbid curiosity as he came to a stop by the coach, panting and wheezing.

“We... hahhh.. should leave..” he gasped. His bird wasted no time on formalities and dived straight into the coach and hid behind Marcus, who felt moved to shift forwards.

“Lucin,” Musk said angrily, “what have you done?”

“I got your money,” the short man said, heaving the bag of gold into the coach. “But the people I was playing against.. did not take too kindly to me taking it from them. Nor did the rest of the bar, or the local authorities..”

A faint roar that had been bothering the edge of Marcus’s hearing for the last minute or so suddenly revealed itself to be the natural call of an angry mob, which came charging out from the street Lucin had appeared from, collectively paused for a moment to survey its surroundings, spotted Lucin, and redoubled its efforts in his direction. “Ah,” the man said brightly, “and here they are.”

“There he is!” came another voice at that instant, and Marcus twisted around to see, on the other side of the plaza and amidst a group of armed men, the merchant he had spoken to earlier. The man was pointing straight at him, and too late Marcus realised that he was now hanging half out of the window in order to get a good view of what was going on. “The famous Assassin! Get him!” The assembled groups of miscellaneous armed men and gate guards all turned in surprise towards the small group around the coach and, to the man, drew their weapons.

“Ah goody,” Kendra said, “one angry mob is never enough.”

“How did they know I was here?” the Assassin asked the air, curiously, before leaping from the roof of the coach and landing between the group and the mobs, sword in hand. Musk stepped up beside him, cracking the knuckles of suddenly oversized fists, and, at a meaningful glance from Kendra, Marcus sighed and stepped out as well, yanking the scythe out from where he’d hidden it, standing next to Musk as the combined mobs spread out, exchanging war stories and morphing into a collective wall of antagonism.

“Kendra,” Musk called back to her, “I think we’re going to need you for this one.”

Marcus glanced back over his shoulder, confused, as Kendra saluted smartly. She then closed her eyes and started to hum, much to his disbelief. Next to her, Lucin gave her a similarly nonplussed glance, before climbing up into the driver’s seat of the coach and grabbing for the reins.

“Stop right there,” called a man from the crowd, which had gone scarily quiet and was keeping its distance. Looking around, Marcus became aware that aside of the more obvious edged weapons, a lot of crossbows were being pointed in their direction. Presumably, no-one wished to get in the way of the initial flurry of shots.

Musk held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, which cause the mob to shrink back slightly. “What is the meaning of this?” He addressed the man who had spoken, who appeared to be a member of the local guard. “We came here in peace, and wish to depart so. We have done no wrong by the people of this town. Why the hostility?”

“You have among you a known assassin,” the man said, seeming slightly less sure of himself now that he had been collectively elected to speak for the mob. “Er.. there’s a reward out for his capture. Furthermore, some of my comrades believe that another of your number took their money from them by unfair means.
And
, we as the peacekeepers of this town have been told to be on the lookout for suspicious travellers claiming to be Viaggiatori. You fit all of these charges!”

“Oh come
on
!” Marcus said, jumping in irritably as Musk opened his mouth to let loose what would probably have been a well-reasoned response, “we do
not
have time for this. We need to be leaving this town like an hour ago, so I’m just going to address all of these points really quick before I run out of patience completely. For starters, if each of you – what? – two hundred? People collectively bring in this so-called famous assassin, then, well, how big’s the reward? Because I’m pretty sure that no matter what, you won’t be looking at more than a few bucks apiece. Is that worth the fact that, if this apparent assassin
is
among us, then given the fact that I imagine with a name like that he trades in killing people, bringing him in would mean risking your life for pocket change?”

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