Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (20 page)

‘Aye, I’ll drink to that,’ Lynx replied with enough feeling that she immediately remembered the scars on his back.

They lapsed into silence for a while. Sitain watched the distant look on Lynx’s face as he chewed the food without tasting, barely swallowing before the next morsel was in his mouth.

He’ll have been starved
, she realised as she watched him cram more into his mouth, the earlier look of pleasure gone from his face.
Wherever he was, he’ll have been worked every hour of daylight and been given slops to eat.

An unexpected belch rumbled up out of his gut, apparently surprising Lynx as much as Sitain. It was enough to make him pause and frown down at the food, jaw tightening for a moment before he dropped what was in his fingers and leaned back.

‘So what’s it like?’ Lynx asked, making a visible effort to dispel the memories haunting him.

‘What? This cheese?’

Lynx snorted. ‘Nope, your darkness.’

She paused. ‘Oh, that. Gods above – and you said I wasn’t asking the easy questions!’

‘Was just curious. Not my business if you don’t want to talk about it.’

She felt a pang of guilt at his haunted look and shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. Though I don’t know where to start.’

‘When did you start?’

Sitain shrugged. ‘I could sense it all my life, that tingle in my bones, but it came on when I was about twelve. The ability to draw on that tingle, to make the darkness glitter. It was a game, nothing more, until my brother caught me and we both blacked out. We didn’t know what had happened, but a week later I put the fire out as supper was cooking. Just went black and cold, like I’d drawn the life from it, and my dad guessed what it was.’

‘And after that?’

‘They told me to stop, that it was dangerous. I tried, I really did, but it’s a part of me. It happened when I didn’t mean it to; when a boy was fighting with my brother and I got scared, when a horse panicked in the street. And once others knew, I suppose it was only a matter of time before the whole village did.’ She stopped and gave a small laugh. ‘It sounds silly, but the best I can describe it is like when you’re being sick. This thing wells up inside you, a movement you’ve no control over. But it comes from your bones, not your stomach, from deep inside every part of you.’

Lynx was quiet a long while, staring hard at her. ‘So we really don’t want you frightened in the street, then?’

‘I’ve more control than I did,’ she said, realising as she spoke just how defensive that sounded, ‘but no – we don’t want that. Someone’ll notice.’

‘Right.’ He picked up a blackened strip of red pepper and brandished it. ‘Let’s finish this off and head back. Suddenly I reckon I want to be around mercenaries again.’

‘I am Exalted Uvrel.’

Deern groaned with the effort of moving his head. A tall white woman in an immaculate Knights-Charnel uniform stood a few yards away. Neither Surei nor Asann, she had the small, neat features of the far north-east, the powerbase of the kings of old and now heartland of the Militant Orders.

Different names, same sort o’ kiddie-fiddling hypocrites.

Her hair was cut short and what remained was tucked under a black hat with a jutting prow of a brim, edged with silver thread. The shield on her chest was embossed with silver and her collar was studded with battle honours. Behind her, almost as an afterthought, were two hard-faced privates wearing dragoon uniforms – troops of the elite Torquen branch of the Knights-Charnel.

‘You’re a woman,’ Deern said, blinking stupidly at her.

‘Is that a problem?’

The look on her face made it clear whose problem it would be, but still it was a moment before Deern’s brain woke up.

Four pairs of gold studs ran down her left shoulder, the double line signalling high station. Exalted commanded a small personal fiefdom of dragoon squads, so far as Deern could remember, but they held equivalent rank to colonels. The one aspect about her that was less than immaculate was her knee-length boots – no amount of polish was able to hide the scored leather or steel toecaps.

‘Nope, just, ah, wasn’t – never mind.’ He shook his head to clear his thoughts a little then waved in the direction of a spare chair. ‘Lovely to meet ya. Take a load off.’

She ignored the offered chair. ‘You’ll be coming with me.’

‘I don’t reckon so.’ Deern laughed. ‘Can see why you’d expect that, but I don’t have all the info you need. Thought it’d be safer that way, in case I got carried out of here for being drunk and helped all the way into one of your cells. My partner’s waiting for me and some cash before anything more happens.’

She leaned forward. ‘Except for things that happen to you.’

‘Sure,’ he said with the disregard of a man well into his cups, ‘but I’ve kissed death on the lips more’n a few times. He don’t scare me no more.’ Deern cocked his head and glanced down at the mage-pistol in a sheath on his hip. ‘Also, I got a burner in the pipe so I’ll take the rest o’ you down with me. Look me in the eye and tell me I ain’t drunk and stupid enough to do it without thinking first.’

She didn’t speak immediately, but he could see in her face she believed him. There wasn’t fear, though, just acknowledgement.
No surprise there
, Deern thought to himself.
Exalted are fanatics, their elite. She probably don’t understand folk who’d think twice about burning the world down.

The warm buzz of alcohol started to fade from his brain, the Exalted’s gaze as sobering as a kick in the balls, but then she abruptly sat.

‘Your price is ten gold rings.’

‘That’s what I told your boy.’

‘What sort of a mage?’

He grinned at the tacit acceptance. ‘Does it matter?’

‘When we take them into custody it will.’

‘Fair point. I ain’t witnessed anything myself, but the talk is she’s a night mage.’

It was barely perceptible, but Deern was sure the woman stiffened as he said it. ‘You are certain?’

He shrugged. ‘Folk who told me were. That good or bad for you?’

‘I heard intelligence that spoke of a night mage, and apparently it was correct. Commander Ntois was dispatched to extend our protection.’

‘Protection, right. I only caught half a look as they rode past, but sure, he could have been a commander. Whiskery bloke, silver spoon stuck up his arse.’

‘And one of yours killed him?’

Deern slipped his feet off a chair and sat forward. ‘A recent recruit, not one of us, get me?’

‘I understand. You do not wish to have your friends tarnished by this recruit’s actions.’

‘They’re a pretty tarnished bunch all by themselves, but I don’t want ’em wiped out ’cos of some So Han fucker. They don’t deserve that.’

‘Tell me the name of who is to blame.’

Deern scowled, but he knew he was committed now. ‘Goes by Lynx. Don’t know his real name but he’s easy to spot. A heavy So Han veteran with a tattoo on his face. Moves well enough, you don’t want to underestimate him, but you’ll spot him easy enough round here.’

Uvrel pursed her lips. ‘This man from So Han ambushed a squad of Knights-Charnel under the command of an experienced commander, killed them all and made off with the mage they were escorting?’

He shrugged. ‘He slipped off in the night and came back at dawn with her. The rest’s guesswork, but we didn’t get burners up our arses the next day so I’m guessing that’s how it went. She said something to him as they passed. I heard it was his own language, that she’s a mongrel or something. Might be that’s what swayed it for him, who knows with those mad bastards?’

She was quiet a while then reached into a pocket. ‘Two rings now, the rest when we get sight of the quarry.’

‘Five.’

The Exalted shook her head. ‘Five is too great a lure. You could be making all this up. Two gold rings is a lot, but not enough to risk scamming the Knights-Charnel, given what I will do to you if this is a lie.’

‘A stern talking-to, eh? Mebbe a spanking if I’m lucky.’ Deern chuckled as the dark look that appeared on her face. ‘This mage, she’s got you interested I reckon. I’ll take your two, but the balance is fifteen then.’

Uvrel opened her mouth to curse at him then caught herself. ‘Do you really think you’re in a position to demand more?’

‘As good a time as any. The information’s good so I ain’t worried about you cutting my toes off one by one for screwing you over.’

‘I wouldn’t start with your toes,’ she said darkly, but Deern only grinned.

‘Oh stop it, you’re making me hard with talk like that.’

‘Good, you’ll lose more blood that way.’

Deern raised an eyebrow. ‘We gettin’ a room or makin’ a deal?’

She opened her hand and showed him two gold rings before flipping them around so they were trapped beneath her palm, flat on the table. Putting the tip of a finger inside the hole of each, she slid the pair across the table but didn’t release them.

‘You’ll be followed back to your lodgings by Tovil here,’ she said, tilting her head to one side to indicate one of her dragoons. ‘Hand the money off to your friend and get the information you need, then return here. These two are a gesture of good faith. We take the murder of our own very seriously – as we do being played for fools by people stupid enough to try and steal from us. I will have agents verify your information then you’ll be released, assuming you’ve not drunk so much you can’t walk.’

‘Done,’ he said with a nod and swept up the rings when she released them. ‘I’ll be going, then,’ Deern announced, draining his drink.

‘Pay your tab first,’ Uvrel advised him with a stony expression. ‘My generosity is at an end.’

Deern didn’t argue. In fact, he realised he’d have been suspicious if she’d have let him stick her for it. He tossed a coin on to the bar and sauntered out, the smaller of the two guards pulling on a plain cloak over his uniform and following him out.

Once he was gone Uvrel beckoned over her remaining soldier. ‘The rider is already gone, Harril?’

‘Yes, Exalted. I sent a scout off towards Janagrai as soon as Lieutenant Eshan brought word.’

‘Good. Only a fool or a madman would attempt such a lie, but that man is crazed enough that it’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’ She stood. ‘We must go carefully, however. The Princip would not appreciate a pitched battle on the streets, especially now. Stay here and wait for Tovil. I’ll return to the cloister and get the troop ready then inform Lord-Commander Ifiran. If Ntois is dead he will want to know.’

Back at the tavern, Lynx and Sitain found the courtyard full of mercenaries. They had made it barely three steps before Payl appeared in front of them, barking orders.

‘Weapons check!’

‘Sir?’ Lynx gestured to the falchion on his hip, but she shook her head.

‘Your gun, fetch it. Company fine for anyone not looking after their kit.’

‘And just a day after the company was paying for drinks. Fancy that,’ he said drily.

‘Just get it.’

Lynx did as he was told, noting a few glum faces at the tables. Some scrubbed with oiled cloths at their mage-guns, others forced thick steel needles through the leather of tattered cartridge cases. He suppressed a smile, but knew perfectly well his own weapon was in perfect condition. Even after a decade those lessons remained and the boredom of a life on the road ensured he kept it up.

In the bunkroom his mage-gun lay on his bed, just where he’d left it. He glanced at the beds on the far side of the room, realising Braqe’s now lay empty and experiencing a moment of anxiety, but when he drew his gun it still looked in good condition. To be sure he opened the breech and unpinned the barrel so he could tilt and peer down the length. It was clear, light from the window gleaming in the traces of oil on the rifling.

Satisfied, he gathered up his cartridge box and carried both outside. Payl was waiting for him and jerked the gun out of his hands to peer down it too. She grunted and produced a white cloth to wipe around the breech, but it came away almost spotless.

‘Good. Now the case.’

He opened it up and presented it to her. The cartridge case was a solid affair, hard-wearing leather stiffened by a steel plate. Some saw the steel as excessive, but Lynx had seen men hit in their cartridge cases; sometimes the entire squad was killed. A hand span and a half long, it contained three rows of cushioned divisions, enough to fit forty individual cartridges.

‘The count’s two burners, nine sparkers, twenty-eight icers,’ he announced, though she hadn’t bothered asking.

Payl glanced down at the paint-smeared clay caps and nodded. Red for burners and the sun emblem of the god Veraimin, blue for sparkers and the jagged slash of Banesh, white for icers and the three stars of Insar. Earthers were left brown, naturally, and engraved with two curved tusks representing Ulfer, but Lynx rarely bothered with them. The other forms of magic – Light, Stone, Wind and a handful of other even rarer types – didn’t lend themselves to weaponry well and weren’t bothered with, or were so exotic only the rich could afford them.

‘No one likes a show-off,’ Kas called from the table, oiling her bow. Being the company’s lead scout she didn’t carry a mage-gun, but apparently wasn’t exempt from the snap inspection.

‘Some of us have standards,’ he said with mock primness.

‘Damn right.’ She laughed. ‘Just as well for you, others of us ain’t so picky!’

‘Keep rubbing at that wood, Kas,’ he advised her with a wink, ‘one day you’ll get good at it too.’ Lynx snapped his gun closed again and swiftly changed the subject while he was ahead. ‘Braqe’s up, then?’

‘Just about,’ Payl said, nodding towards Sitain. ‘Useful skill you’ve got there, girl.’

‘One day, maybe,’ she said with a scowl.

‘But she’s no worse for it?’ Lynx asked.

‘Nah, just her pride hurt. Otherwise, she could just be hungover and no one’d notice the difference.’

Lynx nodded. That was encouraging, both for patients of Himbel’s and Anatin’s mood towards his So Han recruits. ‘So I heard the city’s lousy with Charnelers,’ he said brightly.

‘You’re shitting me?’

‘Afraid not.’

‘You know why?’

‘Nope, but if it’s true, life just got more complicated.’