Moon's Artifice (29 page)

He opened the back door of the quarters and headed out into the communal garden, dusted grey by the light of impending dawn. A short ladder had been placed against the wall already – four steps only, but enough that they’d be able to clear it and swing back down.

‘Me first, Narin you’re last, got it ?’ They all nodded. ‘Right, time to see whether they’ve bought it.’

With a few steps’ run-up, Enchei scaled the wall and lowered himself down on the other side with barely a sound, Irato following a moment later. Narin moved forward to assist Kesh over, but she brushed him aside and followed the example set.

Narin had to stop himself from laughing, remembering belatedly that she’d served a season on a merchantman and was likely more agile than he. Then he realised he was all alone in the darkness and glanced up. Lord Shield’s constellation was obscured by shadowy cloud – even the Gods were not watching over him.

He scrambled over the wall as fast as he could, all the while expecting a shout or crossbow bolt to break the quiet.

‘All wearing hoods,’ Jaril said aloud. ‘A feint, or are they daring us to act ?’

The tall, sharp-featured Eagle glanced at his companions across the dark room. Eman and Loram, the pair from House Ghost, shared a look that told Jaril nothing, while Jerg kept on staring out the window, watching for signals from their lookouts, Kissen and Calt.

‘A dare,’ suggested the last of them, Trai. The Moon slipped his black mask down over his dusty-brown face and rose, ready to leave. ‘We can’t afford Irato to get to safety – he must be withholding what he knows until then.’

Jaril nodded and stood. ‘Jerg, give the signal to attack.’

‘Wait !’ Jerg called, turning in the other direction. ‘Signal from Calt – movement, four figures.’

‘They’re going east – Eman, Loram, move !’ Jaril snapped, pointing at the window. The pair didn’t hesitate, one then the other diving out of the window with just an anchor-rope to slow their fall.

‘And us ?’ Trai asked, one hand on his crossbow.

‘Jerg, you stay here in case they’re both diversions – signal Calt to attack and Kissen to hold. Trai, with me.’

Jaril slipped down his mask and mentally cursed as he ran after Eman and Loram. The last member of his team, Calt, had a dozen thralled goshe to command, but scattered around the eastern streets and they’d already lost that many to this damn traitor and his handlers. He just had to hope they’d slow Irato down long enough for the Detenii to catch him.

Narin had barely touched his feet on the ground by the time Enchei was off into the haze of dawn mist. Down the side of the nearby compound, he turned east into a tangle of smaller buildings where the narrow side-streets would give them cover from crossbowmen. Irato was on his heels and Kesh not far behind, both carrying drawn blades. He ran to catch up with Kesh, tugging his stave free as he went, and they followed Enchei into the confined shadows. The tattooist ran with a light, delicate step from building to building, checking around each corner and swapping sides of the streets frequently.

Behind them, Narin kept expecting to hear shouts or cries break the dawn hush as the Investigators were attacked, or their ruse was discovered. But all was quiet – only the morning calls of seabirds punctuated the sounds of the city before it was properly woken. His heart hammering in his chest, Narin couldn’t accurately judge how long it had been since they’d scaled the wall, but the city remained silent. The air was still and the cold salty tang of the sea filled every street.

In what seemed like no time at all they were at the edge of a broad avenue dimly lit by ancient, tree-like gas lamps turned low after the midnight bell. The faint light of the lamps was only a diffuse glow through the mist, but without sun or stars to light the way, they made a difference. The avenue wound a path north-east from the Tier bridge to the sprawl of palazzos of nobles and merchant-princes south of the Imperial canal. In the shadows of a small, steep-roofed house Enchei paused, peering out across the yellow-lit avenue searching for danger.

‘See him ?’ Irato muttered at the man’s side, indicating somewhere a little further up the street. He slipped the small crossbow from behind his back and cocked it, dropping a bolt into the slide.

‘Aye, waiting for us to get out in the open.’

‘Plan ?’

‘You wait for my word.’

Enchei didn’t expand on his order, only fished his sling out from his pocket and stepped back to give himself some room. Narin edged backwards, unable to see where Irato had pointed but giving Enchei space to swing. It all happened in a second ; one moment the tattooist had slipped a stone into the pouch of his sling, the next he’d whirled it twice and released.

As a loud crack echoed out across the street, Enchei broke into a run across the street, rolling his forearm as he went to loop the sling around it. Kesh was about to follow when Irato put a hand out, checking her to keep her behind the corner of the house. They watched Enchei sprint across the cobbled avenue towards a side-street in the lee of an inn. As he reached halfway there was the thunk of a crossbow and something darted out from the shadows to strike his midriff. The impact drove him a step right, but barely slowed his charge and in the next moment he’d reached the street, short-sword drawn and slashing down.

There was muted crash and a thump of something hitting the ground. A moment later, silence – followed by a hoarse call of, ‘Come !’

Irato leading, they ran as fast as they could to the darkened side-street where Enchei had disappeared. Narin felt his breath catch as they went into the light, a band of iron around his ribs until they reached the dark side-street and were standing over two dead goshe.

Narin could only see the face of one, hood dislodged by Enchei’s killing blow. The other had had his throat cut, a loaded crossbow at his feet, but as Narin looked closer he realised the man’s black hood was torn and bloody above the eye.

‘They were just novices,’ Enchei said, turning away to scan the side-street they were now on.

‘You’re hurt,’ Kesh said, reaching out instinctively towards him.

‘It’s fine,’ he said distractedly.

She exchanged a look with Narin, who was similarly alarmed. ‘There’s an arrow in your stomach,’ Kesh pointed out.

Enchei gave a snort and swatted down at the wooden shaft protruding from his gut. The shaft snapped and fell to the ground. ‘Didn’t penetrate,’ he added, fishing in his pocket for a second stone before freeing his sling and loading it. He didn’t let the weapon hang, but kept the leather pouch pinched in his fingers.

‘Come on.’

With that he started off again, Irato loping along behind him like a wolf. Kesh shook her head in disbelief but made no argument. She scooped up the loaded crossbow and followed, with Narin close behind.

The streets on the far side of the avenue were broader, affluent middle castes occupying the properties leading down to the Crescent. There was no gas lighting there, only the white gaze of the Gods and dawn’s first glow, but still they were more exposed than before. Enchei upped his pace, knowing the boat station they were heading for was not far now.

Without warning, a pair of black-garbed figures broke from cover and smashed into Enchei, knocking him sideways. Irato almost ran straight into the nearer of the two and only just managed to block a slashing blade with his crossbow. The weapon was smashed from his hands, but won him time enough to draw his long-knives.

‘Move !’ Kesh called, raising her crossbow. Irato threw himself to one side and she fired in the next moment, but his attacker also twisted away and the bolt only grazed his spaulder. Narin ran in while Kesh hurled the crossbow and Irato attacked from the other side. The goshe let the crossbow bounce harmlessly off him before calmly retreating under a flurry of blows.

Behind, Enchei dodged the other goshe’s lunge, somehow guiding the arm away as he dodged left. Before the goshe could recover Enchei had hauled on his wrist and punched the man’s shoulder. The goshe gave an abrupt cry, but in the next moment Enchei hammered a right hook into the goshe’s throat. The blow lifted him from his feet and threw him into the wall behind, already limp.

As the goshe fell like a discarded toy, Enchei hurled himself at the back of the remaining goshe. He kicked the man in the back of the knee and grabbed his arm to pull him off-balance – buying Irato time to bury a long-knife into each of the goshe’s armpits. The man went rigid, then fell limp when Irato whipped the blades out in a spray of blood.

‘We just found the elites,’ Enchei said. He tugged the sling from his finger and pocketed it, drawing his short-sword instead. ‘There’ll be more of them.’

‘The water’s not far,’ Narin pointed out, seeing the ground was starting to slope gently.

‘Good, come on.’

Enchei ghosted off through the dark again, not bothering to stop at each alley and street entrance as he went now. Irato stayed a moment and nudged up the mask of the goshe he’d been fighting. It revealed the face of a man in early middle-age ; originally from House Ghost, Narin guessed, with pale greyish skin and jet black hair.

There was no change in expression on Irato’s face, clearly no recognition there, and when Kesh hissed ‘Move,’ he jumped forward without a moment’s hesitation.

The three of them ran together, Enchei pausing for them to catch up before they all crossed into a street that led directly to the Strandway, the thoroughfare lined with shops and stalls that skirted the shore of the Crescent. On the far side of that were various small jetties where many boatmen would berth for the night, it being a route regularly patrolled by Lawbringers. From the Strandway there was no sound beyond the lap of waves and the gentle thud of boats against the wooden jetties.

The sky was lightening steadily, the mist-laden air grainy and washed out. Even the colours of House Dragon’s flags on the far side of the Crescent seemed dull. Narin caught the scent of wood smoke on the breeze and the clack of shutters opening. The city was waking. There was no traffic on the Crescent yet, the waters dark and forbidding to Narin’s eye, but he could see lamps marking the entrance to the Fett Canal upriver which gave him a spark of hope.

‘There,’ Enchei said, pointing towards the nearest jetty. ‘Our boat.’

Narin looked over the man’s shoulder and realised he could just make out a shape aboard one barge, a man hunched over perhaps.

‘You sure ?’

‘Aye. Right, we make a run for it – Irato, you lead the way just ta be sure, I’ll be last.’

With that he gave the big goshe a shove and Irato was propelled out into the street. He sprinted towards the barge as its owner sat bolt upright at the sound and grabbed his oar. Kesh and Narin went together ; little more than two dozen paces to cover, but Narin felt his neck prickle cold as he waited for a shot that never came. Then he was in the barge and grabbing one of the spare oars, ready to go.

He barely registered the terrified face of the young boatman as he took in their weapons and the blood on Irato’s face, hands shaking as he fumbled with the rope that tied the boat up. The barge was barely big enough for five. Enchei appeared and hopped in. The boatman pushed away with his long oar and they started out towards the far shore.

‘Here,’ Enchei said, dropping a handful of silver coins at the feet of the boatman. ‘In case we need to run on the other side.’

He didn’t take up a paddle straight away but turned and crouched, facing backwards with sling in hand as he watched for pursuit. Not seeing any, he grabbed an oar and added his strength to their efforts.

‘Are we clear ?’ Narin asked, resisting the temptation to look over his shoulder.

‘I, ah,’ Enchei hesitated, ‘damn – no !’

Narin heard the man drop his paddle and turn again. The barge wobbled briefly as he stood to whirl his sling, then jerked as he released. Narin didn’t hear a connection and Enchei went for another shot, then a third before returning to paddling.

‘More’n half a dozen of ’em,’ he reported, driving hard into the water. ‘I got two, but they’re in boats now – we need to get across fast.’

He glanced behind him. ‘What’s your name, friend ?’

The young boatman gulped. ‘Sen, it’s Sen.’

‘Keep your head down lad, we’ll see you through in one piece.’ The tattooist patted the young man on the shoulder, then used him for balance as he stood and hurled another stone. This time Narin heard the crack of it striking, followed by a distant splash.

A black bolt darted across the grey waters on their right ; well clear of the barge, but enough to make Kesh flinch all the same. Narin glanced towards it and saw the bolt swallowed up by the water, then the faint impression of something larger gliding beneath the surface. A few moments later there was a distinct bump against the underside of the boat as something large brushed it. Enchei cursed under his breath and briefly trailed his hand through the water, muttering some sort of mantra or invocation.

After that he felt nothing, but Narin found himself keeping his eyes just on his paddle, focused only on getting to the far side as fast as possible. They were crammed together, his knees pressed against Kesh’s back so he had to time every stroke of his oar to avoid scraping down her shoulder.

Despite Enchei’s sporadic rowing they made good time crossing – the weight of five people off-set by the fact they were all rowing hard. The goshe took a few more shots with their crossbows, but couldn’t aim as well as Enchei and their best efforts fell just short.

Narin chanced a look back, the dull dawn light enough to show him the flanks of two pursuing barges while a third trailed behind. ‘They’re turning,’ he called to Enchei. ‘They giving up ?’

Enchei glanced back. ‘They’ve seen the soldiers,’ he corrected, nodding towards figures watching from the stone wall of the canal’s entry lagoon.

The morning was now bright enough to make out the blue liveries and distinctive shape of soldiers ready to fight. There were six of them ; each one warrior caste and carrying a musket at the ready. Any open confrontation would go in their favour, Narin was sure, and the goshe had clearly concluded the same – either that or they didn’t want to fight so openly.