Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (17 page)

Sasha ran, low and fast to a pile of broken wooden crates, and arrived beside Aiden and Kessligh, crouching on the pavings. “Can you see it?” she whispered, peering above the pile. Along the dock, shadows moved against sporadic firelight and she could make out the shape of a spear, or the point of a helm. Guards protecting the boats and their cargo.

“The fourth warehouse along,” said Kessligh, squinting into the darkness. “But I can't see the guards.”

A fourth set of footsteps arrived behind, and then Errollyn was at Sasha's side. No other serrin had come on this mission, but Errollyn had insisted.

“I see two guards by the Torack warehouse,” he said. “They wear Torack colours and the Torack emblem on their coats.”

“That's them,” Kessligh said grimly. The quarter moon had already been and fled, leaving the night black save for the flickering guard lights. “Can you see any carts? Any sign of transport?”

“No,” said Errollyn. He did not squint into the night—he gazed, eyes wide like an owl. Sasha watched him, faintly disconcerted. “Perhaps all the weapons are still on the boats.”

“They were supposed to start moving them off this afternoon,” said Aiden.

Kessligh gnawed at his lip. It was the only nervous gesture Sasha knew him to have. Steiner knew better than to unload weapons bound for the Bacosh or Lenayin on the main Petrodor Dock, with so many Nasi-Keth and serrin around. Instead they transferred cargo to smaller boats out at sea, which in turn came up the Sarna to unload in Riverside.

“Errollyn,” said Kessligh, “how many boats on the Torack pier?”

“Looks like…three square sloops and four barges. Barges at the far pier, sloops at the near.”

“Do we even know for certain those are the ships?” Sasha wondered.

“Yes,” said Aiden. “Three sources, all paid. None knew the others existed so they could not have coordinated their stories.”

“It's a high pass in hostile territory,” Sasha observed. In mountainous Lenayin, a high pass meant a narrow place where advancing forces could be trapped, and slaughtered. “I don't like it.”

“There's never anything to like about fighting in cities,” said Kessligh. “If there's been no unloading, it should all be on the boats still. We'll go with plan five for now, but tentatively. I need a scout. If we commit ourselves to the Torack warehouse entirely, we'll need to know what's in the neighbouring ones.”

“I'll go,” said Errollyn, flashing a smile in the dark. “I'm the only one here who can see.”

“Good,” said Kessligh. “And…”

“Me,” said Sasha. “I'm small and I'm sneaky.”

“But in a nice way,” said Errollyn. Sasha grinned.

“Sneaky in a Lenayin forest and sneaky in a city are not the same thing,” said Kessligh. “Better one of Aiden's lads should go.”

“I've ridden on campaign with Errollyn and fought two battles with him,” Sasha said firmly, giving Kessligh a firm stare. “We'll move better together.”

Kessligh's lips twisted unhappily. As if he felt guilty for pushing her into such a position. Sasha felt her heart swell at the sight of his concern. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn't help it. That concern, however, was not evident in his voice. “Stay low,” he said, “and pull back immediately if there's trouble.”

Sasha took the lead, moving between the old warehouse front and more piles of old crates, where little light penetrated. The warehouse looked abandoned, with nothing stored near that might require a guard. Errollyn followed, his bow in one hand.

The next alley provided cover, and the old warehouse's warped sides provided foot and hand holds for a climb to the roof. Errollyn covered Sasha, then slung his bow over a shoulder and climbed—the bow was nearly as tall as him, but it seemed to give him no problems. When he was up, Sasha pointed to the beam at one end and indicated up the sloping slate roof where it should run. Errollyn nodded, and Sasha moved up that line, careful not to put a foot to either side where the poor construction could plunge her straight through both roof and ceiling.

She paused at the roof's apex and peered across. The next warehouse was guarded. She could see figures standing watch along the riverside dock. From this high angle, she could see others seated behind crates and sacks, their crossbows leaning nearby. Some played dice by lamplight, and she could hear muted conversation and laughter. To her left, away from the river, Riverside sprawled, with only a few lights to break the desolation. Higher beyond rose Backside, referred to by the higher classes as the arse-end of Petrodor.

A hand came down on the tile to her side, and she realised that Errollyn had crawled almost directly on top of her to gain a view without abandoning the support of the beam beneath. The Torack warehouse was still three further along.

“The next roof,” he whispered in her ear. “We can jump the gap. Even I can't see enough from here.”

His knee was between her own, his body nearly pressing on her back. And she was amused at herself for noticing, with all else that was important in the night. She slithered over the apex and crawled down the opposing roof-side, careful to disperse her weight lest she dislodge a tile and bring guards running to investigate the clatter.

At the gap between warehouses, she paused and peered down. She could see nothing below, but there was a guard on the corner. The gap ahead was two armspans—simple enough in daytime, but at night, onto loose tiles, not so easy. She gathered to a crouch, then uncoiled and leapt. She landed comfortably enough, not even displacing a tile.

She crawled onward, feeling very pleased with herself—years of sneaking about forbidden places in Baen-Tar Palace, or climbing trees around Baerlyn, had not been in vain. She paused to wait for Errollyn, only to see that he'd already jumped behind her. She hadn't even heard him land.

Atop the apex of this rooftop, he crawled over her again. “I count nine guards,” he murmured in her ear, “but there could be plenty more. We should wait awhile, and see what comes.”

“Like this?” The thought was not unappealing. If Errollyn rolled to one side, the tiles would quite likely give way. If he crawled forward above the roof's apex, he'd risk being seen. No choice, really…

“You could slide down,” Errollyn suggested. “I see more than you.”

“Two pairs are better than one,” Sasha said quickly. “I might see something you don't recognise.”

Errollyn simply lay on her back, taking part of his weight on his arms. Sasha bit her lip. “Don't get too excited,” he told her. “This is strictly business.”

“Business can be fun too,” said Sasha. Dear spirits, they were twenty paces from men who would gladly kill them and she was flirting.

Sasha knew that however nice Errollyn's gentle bodyweight felt, and however his supporting arm seemed to half wrap around her in a partial embrace, she should not take it too personally. She'd seen serrin exchange even more intimate physical affections without appearing to mean very much by it…or not as a human might understand such things.

“Look,” he said and pointed down at the riverside dock. Some figures walked along a narrow pier lit with the dancing light of a torch. One was a lordly man in fancy clothes. Behind him walked a man in a dark robe and hood…strange for the night was warm. Several guards walked with them. “Symon Steiner,” Errollyn murmured.

“Really?” Sasha peered more closely. The lordly man wore a broad-brimmed hat, lowlands style, with a plume in the band. The brim cast a shadow, obscuring the face. “Are you certain?”

“Of course. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Don't remind me,” Sasha muttered. Her own brother-in-law. Dear spirits. “Who's in the hood?”

“Someone who doesn't wish to be recognised, I'd guess. I'll bet you three quarters it's a priest.”

“Three quarters? Serrin are so cheap.”

“Only because humans fleece us so often.”

“Besides, a priest?” Sasha said as the implications of that began to sink in. “Why?”

“Who better to supervise a holy war than a priest?” Errollyn said.

“You think the priesthood has that much control over the preparations for war?”

“Moral guidance,” said Errollyn, staring at the figures on the dock. They'd stopped at the beginning of the pier and were discussing something. Their hands barely moved as they spoke, so they were in relative agreement. When Torovans were agitated, their hands waved around a lot. “Steiner provides the money and trade, the dukes and your father provide the men, and the priesthood provides the moral justification.”

“And puts the fear of eternal damnation into them,” Sasha murmured.

“Exactly.” Errollyn moved against her back, and that was an interesting sensation too. “Someone's coming.” A soldier jogged across the dock to Symon and the hooded man, and murmured something in Symon's ear. The hooded man turned to look about as they spoke…and even Sasha could see the torchlight catch the black robes beneath his cloak, and the glint of something large and gold about his neck. “You owe me three quarters,” said Errollyn.

“I don't recall agreeing to that bet,” Sasha said.

“Humans are so cheap.”

“Only because serrin keep screwing us all the time,” Sasha retorted.

“You wish,” said Errollyn, with a playful pat at her hip.

“So who sent him?” Sasha wondered. “The archbishop?”

“Perhaps,” said Errollyn. “Though the priesthood has factions too.”

“Everyone in Petrodor has fucking factions,” Sasha muttered in Lenay. She only realised then that they'd been whispering in Saalsi. “I bet even Mari's crabs have fucking factions.”

“The nippers against the biters?” Errollyn seemed amused at the concept. “Do you think crabs frame political arguments in terms of steps forward and steps backward, given they all walk sideways?”

Sasha tried to give him an incredulous gaze over her shoulder, but found it difficult in that position. “You're crazy,” she told him.

“And you're lying beneath me,” said Errollyn. “What does that make you?”

“Female,” Sasha nearly replied, but refrained. “Trapped,” she said instead. Errollyn muffled a laugh in her hair. Sasha nearly missed the look that Symon Steiner gave to one of his men. She stared as the man pulled something from his belt. Errollyn stiffened. “Oh no,” she murmured, aghast.

The garrotte encircled the priest's neck from behind, and tightened. The
man flailed, frantically. Sasha could nearly see it, that horrified instant when he realised that he was about to die, and nothing in all the world could stop it. A priest had his gods. A priest should not have feared death. Yet he flailed and kicked all the same. And, sinking to his knees, was finally still.

Men set about stripping the body. Symon Steiner went to talk to another man, with some urgency. With large piles of crates to either side, there was no chance of the dockfront men having seen.

“What just happened?” Sasha asked.

“I'm just a poor serrin lost in the woods,” said Errollyn. “Don't ask me.” He sounded edgy. His body, once warm and comfortable, now felt tense and hard against her. No serrin had killed another for over a thousand years. A cold chill flushed Sasha's skin as she glimpsed a very familiar human phenomenon through serrin eyes. It scared her.

“Why do you like us?”

“I like
you
,” Errollyn corrected tautly, watching the limp white body emerge from the priest's robes on the dock. Sasha felt both warm and cold at the same time.

From off to the left, amongst the jumble of slum roofs, there came a yell. Then another and a clashing of metal…not weapons, Sasha thought, but a duller steel.

“That's a signal,” Sasha muttered. “Let's go.” Caution abandoned, she slid onto the rooftop ridge and ran at a crouch away from the river. On the slum side of the warehouse, she peered down on the opposing street. Dark shapes ran through the shadows, carrying weapons. They were heading downriver, toward Kessligh and the Nasi-Keth. “Shit.”

“Mudfoots,” said Errollyn. “Looks like an ambush.”

It didn't make sense…the riverside gangs usually didn't care if Nasi-Keth, serrin or the families came sneaking around their territory, so long as they were only intent on killing each other. But she didn't have time to ponder that now. “Let's get down there.”

“Wait.” Errollyn pulled a roof tile aside and made a hole. He pulled a ceramic cylinder half the length of his forearm from a belt pouch Sasha hadn't even realised he'd been wearing. He gave it a good shake, then threw it hard down through the hole. There was a blinding white flash, then a whoosh of yellow flame. The white light faded, but the flame remained, and grew. “Go,” said Errollyn.

Sasha slithered down the roof. There were no guards at the mouth of the alley below. Now she heard the yells and screams of battle. The mudfoots had run into one of Kessligh's perimeter traps, and the ambushers had become the ambushed.

Sasha found a toehold on the plank wall and began to climb. She was halfway down when a running shadow on the street paused. Then stopped and came over, staring upward. Sasha swore beneath her breath and prepared to drop the remaining distance. From above came a heavy thump, like the high note of a big, Lenay bassyrn drum. A projectile buzzed and the dark figure staggered backward, clutched at his shoulder, then fell and began screaming with pain.

Sasha found several more fast hand and footholds, then dropped the remaining distance and drew her blade. Above, Errollyn was descending…he dropped his bow for her to catch, which she did one-handed. She pressed herself to the wall, peering out at the street. There were lights appearing amidst the ramshackle huts opposite and raised voices. The whole of Riverside seemed to be waking up.

Two men and a woman came to check on the screaming man, one holding a burning torch. “Come on!” Sasha muttered beneath her breath as Errollyn descended. Errollyn should have shot to kill. But then, she could hardly blame him. Several more runners came along the street, and paused. Looked at the arrow wound, and then looked about, staring up at the surrounding rooftops. There was no way out down the other end of the alley, Sasha realised. That way was the docks and family soldiers. If it was a fight, the odds against the mudfoots were far better.