Sharps (28 page)

“Has it occurred to any of you to wonder,” Iseutz asked, while they were waiting for the swords to be blunted, “what happens to the money?”

Giraut looked up. “Money?”

Suidas smiled. “The gate receipts, you mean? I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind.”

“Presumably the Guild keeps it,” Addo said. “As payment for the use of the building.”

“Then they’re doing pretty bloody well out of it,” Suidas replied sharply. “How many people were there at Joiauz? Nine hundred? A thousand? That’s got to be a fair bit of money.”

“More than that. I counted the rows of seats. You know about that stuff,” Giraut said. “What’s the usual arrangement, back home?”

“Mostly you get a flat fee,” Suidas said. “Guaranteed even if nobody shows up. Occasionally people fight for a share of the take, but we don’t favour that. We like to know what we’re getting.”

“It must be costing the government a lot of money to run this tour,” Addo said, though it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it. “Maybe they’re using some of the takings to offset the expenses.”

Suidas laughed. “Let’s see,” he said. “Board, lodgings, cavalry escort and coach provided by the Permians. None of you lot’s getting anything. Tzimisces is a military officer, so he’s being paid already. No, I don’t see it myself.”

“You’re being paid,” Iseutz pointed out; and if she noticed the sudden drop in temperature, she showed no sign. “Quite a lot.”

“Sure, I admit it,” Suidas said angrily. “Nothing else on earth would’ve induced me—”

“So maybe,” Iseutz went on, “our share of the takings is going to pay your wages.”

“We don’t know if the Permians are giving our government anything,” Addo put in quickly. “So I don’t think there’s any point in speculating.”

“I’m going to ask Phrantzes,” Iseutz said. “Because if money’s changing hands and
he
’s getting all of it, that’s not fair. Well, is it?”

Suidas gave her a poisonous look. “Look at it this way,” he said. “I’m the only one who
needs
paying. The rest of you they could get for free, for various reasons.”

Giraut winced. Iseutz opened her mouth to say something, but maybe the right words hadn’t been invented yet, and she felt that the language as it stood wouldn’t do justice to the strength of her feelings. Addo said, “This isn’t helping. Well, is it?”

“It’s all right for you,” Suidas replied. “You don’t need the money, any of you. It’s just something that’s naturally there, like air every time you breathe. Some of us—”

“Are risking their lives so you can get a nice fat payout,” Iseutz said. “And you aren’t even doing what you were
hired
for. You’re supposed to be the one fighting with those disgusting meat-cleaver things.”

“Look,” Addo said – it was the first time he’d raised his voice, and it shut the others up instantly. “We don’t even know for a fact they’re charging money at the door. Well, do we? So it’s pointless making a stupid fuss about it. And like he said, we don’t need the money. We should be grateful for that, instead of picking on each other.”

Iseutz glared at him. “Don’t you have
any
principles?”

There was a short, stunned silence; then Suidas laughed. “Sorry,” he said, “but I think you’re fighting a losing battle there. From what I’ve seen, young Master Carnufex here has principles the way a dog’s got worms. They’re just not quite the same as yours, that’s all.”

“Leave it,” Addo snapped. “Please,” he added gently. “If we’ve got to have a blazing row about this, let’s wait till we’re safely on our way home again. It’ll keep till then, I’m quite sure.”

Iseutz shrugged. Suidas grinned. “Remarkable thing,” he said. “Here we’ve got the son of the Irrigator, and all he wants to do is make peace. That’s hardly the Carnufex way, is it?”

Addo turned and looked at him for several seconds. Then he said, “On the contrary, it’s all my family’s ever tried to do. Of course,” he added, as Suidas looked away, “we’ve always sought to achieve it by slaughtering the enemy to the last man, but it’s the thought that counts.”

There was no fencing match. Giraut and Iseutz, who were billed to go on first and second, were waiting in the small anteroom at the top of the Guild house main hall when Phrantzes burst in looking terrified. He explained that something dreadful had happened, the streets were full of rioters, the building had been evacuated and they were on no account to go outside.

“What the hell do you mean, something dreadful?” Iseutz said.

“I really don’t know,” Phrantzes said, “but it must be something serious. Totila gave me the news, and he looked scared out of his wits. And I don’t suppose much has that effect on that young man.”

Giraut said: “You said there’s a riot. Is it about us?”

“Again, I really don’t know. Totila was about to line his men up outside the building, to stop anybody getting in, so we ought to be relatively safe, just so long as we don’t go wandering about.” He looked round, as though he’d just noticed something. “Where are the others?”

“Addo said something about grabbing ten minutes’ practice,” Giraut said. “To get used to the sword he’d be fencing with. God only knows where Suidas is.”

Phrantzes closed his eyes, then opened them again. “If they come in here,” he said, “don’t let them leave. Why the hell people can’t just stay put, I really don’t know.”

Suidas came in a few minutes later. “There’s a mob in the street,” he said.

“We know,” Iseutz said. “And the match is off.”

“Excellent,” Suidas said. “Why?”

“Because of the mob,” Giraut said. “Phrantzes was here. There’s been some unspecified disaster, and we’re not to leave this room.”

“The hell with that,” Suidas said. “I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

By the time he came back, Addo had drifted in, looking nervous and shaken. “I looked out the window,” he explained, “and someone threw a slab of paving stone at my head. It’s pretty lively down there, I can tell you. I thought they liked us.”

“It’s not us specifically,” Suidas said. “I slipped out into the street by the back way, nobody’s thought to put a guard there and the door’s unbolted. Brilliant security. Anyhow, it seems that the local mine boss got himself murdered. Never heard of him, but I get the impression he was the next best thing to God in these parts. Hence the riot.”

“Wonderful,” Iseutz said. “Is anybody doing anything about it, do you suppose?”

Suidas shrugged. “I think the watch is out there smashing statues and burning houses with the rest of them,” he said. “Totila’s men are out front, nobody seems in a hurry to pick a fight with them, so we’re all right. What I’m wondering is where those Aram Chantat have got to. If they decide to weigh in to the crowd, there’s going to be a massacre.”

Giraut shivered. “Is that likely?” Addo asked.

“No way of telling. They may decide it’s a political matter, none of their business, or they may take the view that their duties include keeping the peace, in which case God help any living thing on the street. The danger is if they get carried away, or if anybody’s stupid enough to fight back. If that happens, they could do anything. I’m not entirely sure they know the difference between Permians, Imperials and Scherians. We all look alike to them.”

Giraut shifted uncomfortably. “When you say burning houses …”

“I saw an orange glow in the sky not far from here, and I don’t suppose it was the sunset,” Suidas said. “I can’t see why a nation of fencing fanatics would want to burn down the Fencers’ Guild, but fire has a tricky way of spreading. We really ought to think about moving closer to the back door, just in case.”

Which they did, laying claim to a document store just down the passage from the doorway. When Phrantzes finally found them, he was not amused. “I’ve been looking everywhere,” he said. “I told you to stay in the waiting room.”

“We thought it might be wise to plan an escape route,” Addo said. “What’s going on? Have you found out?”

Phrantzes nodded and sat down on a packing case. “A senator by the name of Ashok has been assassinated,” he said. “Tzimisces told me just now. He was a very important man, apparently, a senior member of the cabinet, and very popular locally. As soon as the news got out, people just went mad. They’ve had to send in the Aram Chantat to restore order.”

Nobody spoke. After a moment, the door opened and Tzimisces came in. “We’re going to have to leave the building,” he said briskly. “It’ll be all right, Totila’s sent a dozen good men to look after us, and the back streets are relatively quiet.”

Phrantzes’ eyes grew very round. “Are you sure that’s a …?”

“Better than staying here,” Tzimisces said. “Things aren’t going too well. Basically, the mayor’s lost control of the town. The Aram Chantat are killing people in Fountain Square, and the crowds falling back from that area are so angry they don’t really care what they smash up or set fire to. Also,” he added quietly, “the crowd seem to be blaming the peace faction for killing Ashok. No idea if there’s any truth in it, but that’s what they’ve got into their heads, in which case mob logic makes us a subsection of the enemy. Totila says if we stay in town he can’t guarantee our safety. Coming from an Imperial, that’s quite an admission. So, we’re leaving. Don’t think about trying to collect your stuff,” he added, glancing sideways at Suidas. “They’ll try and find us some transport once we get outside the walls.”

The alley was quiet. Tzimisces held up a lantern, and Giraut saw Tzazo and five Imperials lined up waiting for them. Tzazo had a cut lip and blood on his right hand, and the right shoulder-piece of one of the soldiers’ armour had been torn loose and was hanging over his stomach. All of them looked terrified.

“Where’s Totila?” Tzimisces asked.

“He’s not coming,” Tzazo replied. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know. I think I’m in command now.

Tzimisces frowned; then Giraut watched as he dismissed the news from his mind. “Which way are you taking us?”

Tzazo rattled off a list of street names. Tzimisces seemed to approve; he nodded, and the six Imperials moved to form a square, with the fencers inside. “Hang on,” Suidas said. “We’re unarmed. If it’s as bad as that …”

Tzimisces shook his head. “We’re on foreign soil,” he said. “We don’t fight. That’s what the soldiers are for. If one of you were to kill a Permian, even in self-defence, it’d be a disaster.”

“Oh, right,” Iseutz snapped. “And what’d it be if a Permian kills one of us?”

“Deeply regrettable,” Tzimisces said. “Now then, I suggest we make a move, while the street’s still clear.”

It was hard walking inside the square in the dark. Twice Giraut trod on the heel of the man in front of him, who made no sound. Their boots sounded horribly loud, and were the only noise to be heard. It crossed Giraut’s mind for a moment that the whole thing was an enormous practical joke – there was no riot, no crowd, no burning buildings, and at some point Tzazo and Tzimisces would double up with laughter and explain that they’d been had. But then he remembered that Suidas and Addo had seen the mob, and that Tzazo’s face was cut. They won’t hurt us, he told himself, we’re not even from here, it can’t be anything to do with us. He wanted to ask how much further they had to go, but didn’t dare make a sound.

Addo nudged Suidas’ arm. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a couple of messers under your coat.”

“No.” Suidas was looking straight ahead. “Just the one.”

“Oh. Actually, I was joking.”

“Really.” Suidas lowered his voice. “The only thing between us and a violent mob and the Aram Chantat is half a dozen Blueskins. I fail to see the humour.”

“You heard what Tzimisces said …”

“Screw him.”

They turned right, then left, then left again. As they crossed a courtyard between two large buildings, they saw three dead bodies lying on the cobbles: two men and a woman. One of the men had lost an arm, though it was probably the head wound that killed him. Nobody said anything.

Some time after that – Giraut had no idea how long – Tzimisces said, “I thought you said you were taking us down Queen’s Alley.”

“This is Queen’s Alley,” Tzazo replied.

“No it isn’t. This is Narrowgate. Queen’s Alley is over there, to the left.”

A pause; then: “Are you sure?”

“It’s all right,” Tzimisces said, in a tight, sharp voice. “We can cut across round the back of the tannery. It’ll bring us out on Queen’s Alley just past the orphanage.”

“Are you sure about that? I thought—”

“How well do you know this town, Lieutenant?”

“Actually, I’ve never been here before. But I saw a map …”

“Take the next left,” Tzimisces said firmly.

The back gate of the tannery had been smashed down, and Giraut saw a few coins on the pavement gleaming in the lantern-light. He assumed Tzazo had noticed, and kept quiet.

They turned into a broader street, and the escort quickened the pace. For some reason, the extra width made Giraut feel more secure, though he figured it shouldn’t – a wider street was more likely to be a main thoroughfare, therefore more liable to be used by rioters, or the Aram Chantat moving to deploy. He tried very hard not to think about it, but his stomach was tightening and his knees felt weak, as though he had a bad cold. He glanced back and saw Addo’s face, or half of it at least, lit up by the lantern. He looked about twelve years old.

“And left at the top, into Moorway,” Tzimisces said. He sounded happier, almost excited. “If I remember right, the livery yard’s on the corner of Moorway and Cooper’s Alley.”

Tzazo didn’t reply, and Giraut guessed he had no idea where he was. Then Tzimisces said, “Shit, this is Cotton Street, where did we—” and stopped short. A body of men, two dozen at least, were standing in the road looking at them.

Tzazo stopped immediately, and Iseutz barged into him, making him stagger. “Back up,” Tzimisces said urgently, but he replied, “Better not.” The men didn’t move.

“I’m the ranking officer,” Tzimisces said. “Back up, now.” But Tzazo nodded sideways over his shoulder. Giraut turned his head to look. More of them, coming up behind them.

Tzazo took a deep breath. “I’ll handle this,” he said; then he added, “Please.” Tzimisces dropped back without saying anything.