The Barrow (38 page)

Gilgwyr stood in the middle of the alleyway, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, sucking air into his lungs to catch his breath. He finally straightened and walked up to join Stjepan where he stood glaring at the fire and the rabble beyond; Erim joined them a moment later, and the three of them contemplated the fiery scene, out of breath. Behind them the rear guard was gathering in front of the gates, mounting their horses or clustering around the last horse-drawn cart, into which they were loading their wounded compatriots. Several of the porters were bearing torches and preparing to run alongside the horses and wagon. Cole and Ruvos Till popped out the gates, having finally abandoned their posts inside the house, and looked askance at the carnage in the alleyway before joining Horne and Little Lucius and Tall Myles beside the wagon.

“We are
leaving!”
cried out Sir Helgi, and the rearguard lurched into motion.

Gilgwyr glanced over his shoulder, and then turned back and grinned at the burning wreckage, gasping for breath and laughing at the same time. “You keep trying to burn this city down, Black-Heart. One of these days, you'll get it right!” he said, clapping Stjepan on the shoulder. “Fuck, I haven't had this much fun in ages. I have to get out more!” He turned and started up the alley. Erim turned and hesitated. Stjepan still hadn't moved.

“Black-Heart,” she said. “We have to go.”

A voice came calling out to them, then, out of the dark from beyond the flaming wreckage. A deep voice filled with malice and fear and pregnant with power. “You are cursed. Cursed in the name of the Sun Court and the King of Heaven! All those who aid the witch, hear me and weep!” cried the voice.

Stjepan turned and walked away, fury on his face.

The trio started moving up the alley at a run, leaving the street on fire behind them.

Erim was tense and nervous as they hit the Street of Loria and turned west, following the rearguard; her blood was still boiling hot and she kept expecting for them to run into a wave of street rabble or a company of Templar horse. But all they saw was smoke in the streets, a layer of thick, still smoke like a fog that made her feel frightened and nauseous.
Leigh's work, no doubt
, she thought with a shudder. Occasionally someone would come wandering toward them through the smoke, and upon encountering a group of fast-moving armored horsemen guarding a wagon, would immediately shrink back from their path.
Too far to go, far too far if we're aiming for the West Gate, we're having to run the entire city
, she thought, panic in her belly. They passed quickly over the King's Road, leaving the High Quarter behind, and the smoke started to dissipate a bit, and then they were on Baker Street. She could hear whistles and strange barking sounds coming from rooftops and alleyways as they rode down Baker Street, and she frowned, uncertain what to make of it, but the streets were eerily deserted.

When they hit the corner with Aqueduct Way, she saw a couple of bonfires being manned by a dozen of the Bastards of Baker Street standing armed and masked in the street; for a moment she thought they were about to have a fight but the Bastards waved them through, and the sneering leather-clad bravos made exaggerated bows as they ran past. Aqueduct Way ran along the south side of the ancient aqueducts, and they followed it until the Way hit the corner with Tinker Street and turned north. There she was shocked and mightily gladdened to see Petterwin Grim and his crew, masked and armed and out in force in front of the print shop, waiting with torches and lanterns and a trio of saddled horses; mightily gladdened indeed as she was about out of breath from running. The rearguard kept riding and running past the waiting men, turning up Aqueduct Way. Sir Clodin paused on his horse, looking at the three of them coming up behind them, but Stjepan waved him on.

One of the Grimsmen was holding the reins of Cúlain-mer and Erim practically flung herself into the saddle, barely breaking her stride, and for some reason she felt enormous relief that she managed to make the vault.
That could have been embarrassing
, was all she could think as she gathered up the reins from the Grimsman and brought the startled courser under control. One of the Grimsmen offered her a torch, and she lifted it high. Gilgwyr looked worse than she felt, and in fact he immediately slumped into the arms of several Grimsmen the moment he reached them, much to their general amusement, and they poured water into his mouth and over his head before pushing him to his feet. Gilgwyr shook his head, flinging water from his hair like a dog after a walk in the rain, and then let out a loud “Fuck
me!
” as he moved to mount the second waiting horse.

Stjepan had slowed to a walk and went right up to Petterwin Grim, who was holding the bridle of Cúlain-mal to keep the high-spirited courser still. The two men stood for a moment and shook hands and nodded to each other, and then Stjepan was pulling himself up into the saddle.

“Good to see you as always, Black-Heart,” Petterwin said, grinning behind his scars.

“Good to see you too, Grim,” Stjepan said with a smile, bringing his fingers up to lightly tap his forehead, and then they were off up Aqueduct Way at a brisk gallop. Erim looked over her shoulder and saw that the thirty-odd Grimsmen behind Petterwin had raised their swords silently into the air in a farewell salute.

They caught up with the rearguard halfway up the northbound stretch of the Way, falling in with Sirs Clodin and Colin at the back of the group. She was surprised to see some of the porters still running alongside the horse cart, holding torches high, along with Horne; she'd been right winded by the time they'd hit Grim & Sayles and these men were still going strong. But a few of the others, including Tall Myles and Little Lucius and the Tills, had jumped up into the now crowded wagon, and were watching the streets with loaded and cocked crossbows. It occurred to her suddenly that she'd forgotten to eat anything since the morning.
No wonder I'm so beat
, she thought. As they passed up the street, they ran a gauntlet of Red Rob Asprin's men, calling out in encouragement to Jonas' men in the wagon, and Red Rob nonchalantly gave a little wave to Stjepan and Gilgwyr. She suddenly realized they were being passed from the territory of one crew to another, and a shiver went up and down her spine.

By the gods
, she thought.
They've got the whole fucking city in on this.
She laughed wildly.

Where Aqueduct Way hit the High Promenade they found their first sign of trouble. One of the wagons in the first group must have hit the corner too fast, despite Stjepan's admonitions, and the wagon had flipped on its side. Some of Bad Mowbray's men were there, milling about an injured and screaming horse that lay crumpled and thrashing on the road and trying to free the other from its yoke to the wagon's draught pole, along with a large group of what appeared to be street urchins combing through the wreckage and abandoned provisions. Most of the rearguard started to slow as they approached the wagon but Sir Helgi, in the lead, looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Don't stop. Move. Move!”

So the rearguard kept going, but Stjepan and Erim and Gilgwyr slowed down, as did Sir Clodin. Stjepan practically leapt from his saddle and drew his falchion as he walked up to the maimed and injured draft horse. The men clustered around it were just standing there confused, and they drew back as he approached. He crouched behind the thrashing horse, and held its head in his arm, and Erim could hear him whispering something to it. The horse grew still and then Stjepan cut its throat, and he held it as it bled out.

One of Mowbray's men, a tall Danian street captain that Erim recognized by the name of Peer Lance, stepped forward as Stjepan stood up. “You should find the ones from the wagon hoofing it on foot toward the Gate of Eldyr,” he said. “Two are in a bad way, one's a woman with a broken leg.” Stjepan nodded and he got back on Cúlain-mal and then they were racing to catch up to the rearguard.

And indeed the rearguard started to overtake the stragglers from the lost wagon as they moved down the High Promenade. The first was a knot of men and women from the household helping to carry one of the kitchen maids, who had indeed broken her leg when the wagon flipped. This time Sir Helgi did signal the rearguard to stop, and the women were quickly loaded into the horse-drawn wagon alongside the wounded, with all of the able-bodied men now moving to run on foot, flanking or following the wagon. Erim caught a glimpse of the woman's leg, and saw blood and exposed white bone in the torchlight, and she swallowed hard. They picked up other members of the household as they moved toward the Gate of Eldyr, including one man with a badly dislocated shoulder; but Erim heard some of their talk and apparently a few of them had panicked and run off into the night after the wagon flipped, and now no one knew where they were.

When they hit the Gate of Eldyr, in the Inner Wall that divided the Old City from the newer part of the city, she wasn't sure what to expect. The gate was rarely closed but there were usually some men from the City Watch there, and she grew apprehensive as they neared it and saw lights. As they passed through it, all that were waiting for them were more of Bad Mowbray's men, who stood casually in the gatehouse as though they were always on duty there, and a man on horseback dressed in dark leathers and wearing a black scarf tied over his mouth and nose, who turned out to be Cynyr. Stjepan slowed as he went through the gate. “We're the last, officially, but there's some lost little ducklings wandering the streets,” he called out to a swarthy man that Erim didn't recognize.

“We'll keep open another spell, see what comes through,” the man replied with a nod and a shrug.

“Give the Prince my regards,” Stjepan said, and then they were off again, Cynyr falling in behind them.

Once past the Gate of Eldyr it was some of Jon Galbroke's men that provided a silent, running escort until they neared the Market Plaza and Jon Dhee's domain, where they peeled off into the dark. The rearguard caravan, now numbering eleven horsemen, almost two dozen on foot, and fifteen or so piled high into the wagon, sped along the High Promenade past the empty market stalls until they were on the approach to the West Gate and its welcoming committee. Erim spotted men from the City Watch on the ramparts of the tower and wall and there were men on the street and in the gate, and her heart went to her throat again, but then up ahead she could see Jonas on one side waving them through the open gates, and indeed Sir Helgi and the other knights and the members of Arduin's household didn't stop but kept right on going through.

Jonas' crew, running on foot, finally slowed to a stop by their captain, winded and laughing in relief. Gilgwyr and Stjepan slowed to a stop, and Erim did so as well, totally confused. There was no doubt that there were real Watch wardens glancing down at them as the fugitives of the Orwain clan rode loudly out the gates. But there was Jonas, and Little Myles was with him, she also spotted a half dozen heavily-armed enforcers from Jon Dhee's crew, big nasty brutes with shaved heads and scarred cheeks, and then there was Jon Dhee himself stepping out of the barbican onto the gatehouse landing above them with Sir Owen Lirewed, several other knights wearing the surcoat of the Watch guard, and then Coogan behind them. Dhee had a cool, calculating smile twisting across his scrunched, cruel visage under his long stringy hair, and Coogan was pulling up a black neck scarf to cover his mouth and nose as he grabbed the landing stairs and then vaulted onto a waiting horse.

Dumbfounded, she took in the scene and shook her head; there were handshakes and quick farewells all around, and she found her hand being firmly pressed by Horne and Little Lucius and Tall Myles, reaching up to her from on foot; they'd all seen her fight and she felt a bit of pride that they were all eager to wish her luck.

“There's going to be a few Hells to pay for this one, Black-Heart, particularly since you
are
on the blacklist,” called down Jon Dhee in his raspy, frightening voice. “But it'll be our little secret, the Red Wyrm needn't know, nor the Painted Prince nor Prince Cutter either, and this small thing is the least we can do for the man who killed Rodrick Urgoar, may he rot in the Six Hells.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Master Jon,” said Stjepan drily. “No idea at all. But no doubt you're right that I'll have to pay for this, one way or the other.”

“The city will miss you, Black-Heart,” called down Sir Owen with a laugh, as he leaned casually on the landing's wooden guardrail. “It's always a lot more interesting when you're here.”

“You're a liar, Sir Owen,” said Stjepan with a rueful grin. “I'm sure it won't notice that I'm gone at all.”

“Come, come, no time for banter, I think your patron is waiting just down the way,” said Jonas, and he started jogging alongside them as they wheeled their horses about and through the gates. The rest of his crew stayed at the gatehouse, and Erim looked back to see them silhouetted in the archway along with some of the gate guards, with Jon Dhee and Sir Owen and the other knights watching from up top the landing.