The Hammer and the Blade (13 page)

  Egil grabbed another chair with both hands, lifted it high, and charged toward Beard and the hiresword. He stopped cold when another eight men poured through the
Tunnel
's open door, all of them helmed, armed, and armored. More watch.

  "Over here, Egil!" Nix said. He leaped over the bar and pulled the wand from its tube.

  The priest hurled the chair he held at the men storming into the common room and retreated to Nix's side.

  "Don't destroy everything!" Tesha shouted, trying to work her way around the watchman holding her and her workers at the top of the stairs.

  "I think she'll work out as manager, don't you?" Nix said.

  "You gonna use that wand or not?" Egil said, glaring at the men.

  Beard crossed his arms over his chest. "Beat them senseless if that's what it takes. They come with us and they come with us now."

  "I don't think so," Nix said, grinning.

  As one, the new men and the hiresword charged the bar.

  Nix spoke one of the handful of words he knew in the Language of Creation, the syllables odd on his tongue, causing a tingle in his lips. The wand answered the word, warmed in his hand, and he hurriedly touched it first to himself then to Egil, and concluded by pronouncing a second word in the language.

  The pearl flashed and a sudden burst of opalescent light staggered him, elicited surprised shouts from the onrushing men. He felt the magic take hold in him and his vision blurred for a heartbeat. His body tingled all over and started to change size, his gear and clothing, too. He knew Egil would be experiencing the same thing. He grinned and raised his fists, imagining himself and Egil wading through the men like giants, their fists like cudgels.

  "Ha!" he exulted. "And now, curs, prepare…"

  His voice sounded strange, higher-pitched. Instead of wonder and fear in the eyes of the men, he saw instead eagerness, mirth. They rushed forward anew.

  "Nix!" Egil shouted, the priest's ordinarily deep voice also an octave higher.

  The top of the bar reached Nix's eyes. The onrushing men looked like the giants.

  How could that be?

  "Shite," he muttered, as realization dawned.

  The damned wand had shrunk them to half their normal size!

  "I'm sorry, Egil. I thought–"

  "Describe for me a time when one of your items worked as you thought! One time!"

  Mercifully Nix had no time to reply. Nine men came at them in a rush, fists flying. Nix ducked a punch, landed an uppercut that should have floored the man he struck, but which instead barely staggered him. Someone grabbed his arm and flung him against the bar, while another dove at his legs. Nix might as well have been a child. He gave a kick, missed, and the man wrapped his legs and pulled him down. Another man jumped atop him, pummeled him with short punches to the head, again and again. Nix saw sparks, tried to squirm free, but hadn't the strength. He heard Egil roaring in anger before a final punch caused everything to go dark.

 

Things quieted downstairs, but Tesha could not see past the guard who barred the stairs. "I want to see whoever's in charge," she said to the guard, a young man with a lazy eye and scraggly beard. He refused to make eye contact with her.

  "Sorry, but–"

  Tesha stepped up close to the boy. "Don't give me 'sorry,' boy. Get me whoever's in charge."

  Tesha turned to her workers, all of them in their nightclothes, frightened-looking.

  "Ask them where Nix is, Tesha," Kiir said. "Please."

  Tesha nodded. "I'll see to it. Now, all of you go back to your rooms. Leave this to me. Go on, now."

  Reluctantly, muttering, they headed back for their rooms. As soon as they did, Tesha turned on the young guard, wearing the imperious expression that few men could long endure.

  "Now," she said. "Your commander."

  Without waiting for him to respond, she pushed past him and descended the stairs. He fell in behind her, a dog at heel.

  "That's him," the guard said, pointing at a large, bearded man who stood near the door. Seeing her approach, the man frowned, barked an order out the door of the
Tunnel
, and walked toward her. She lost her imperiousness when she looked around at the destruction in the common room. Dozens of Gadd's tankards had been broken, a spilled piss pot stained the floor with filth, two stools were broken, a table.

  "You'll be compensated for the damage," the man said. He nodded at the young guard behind Tesha and the boy scurried off.

  "By whom?" she asked.

  Baras licked his lips. "You'll be compensated."

  "Where are Egil and Nix?" she asked. "Where's your writ?"

  "Madam–"

  "Do not 'madam' me," she said. "Where are they? And where are you taking them?"

  He studied her face for a long beat, as if taking her measure.

  "Madam, Egil and Nix are arrested. That's all you need to know. Should you insist on interfering further, I will ensure that uniformed watchman be permanently stationed outside this establishment. I imagine that will not help with patronage. I will also ensure that one of the Lord Mayor's revenue men checks and rechecks all taxes paid on this property and the goods it sells. Is that something you'd welcome?"

  Tesha felt her face color. She clamped her mouth shut lest her rage spill out in a flurry of expletives. She understood well the impulse that had caused Egil to punch the loudmouth hiresword. She'd have done the same to the bearded bunghole before her if she could've.

  "So I thought," Baras said. "None of this is your concern, madam. Forget you saw anything here tonight."

  With that, the man turned and walked away.

  Tesha stomped her foot on the wood floor. "Shite!"

 

 

 
 

Nix came to moments or hours later, his head covered in a sack of burlap. He was dizzy from the beating he'd taken, and the sack cocooned him with the sour, fetid stink of his own breath. He feared he might puke and make things worse.

  Two men held him by his biceps, wrenching his shoulders as they dragged him. His hands were bound behind his back, going numb from blood deprivation. He was also bound at the ankles and his feet slid limply along the paving stones. The men bearing him grunted with the exertion.

  He presumed he had been disarmed, though he could not verify it.

  Was he still in the
Tunnel
? Maybe on the street outside?

  "Quickly now," one of the men bearing him said, and Nix recognized the voice of Beard. "Get them in and get them gone."

  It occurred to him that he might still be shrunken. If so, when the magic of the wand wore off, he'd return to normal size and the bindings on his wrists and ankles would cut into him. He'd be maimed or worse.

  The thought of losing his hands quickened his heart. Nix the Cripple didn't sound half as appealing as Nix the Quick. He was about to confess that he was awake when the other man spoke and did him a favor.

  "Whoreson couldn't do us the courtesy of staying shrunk, eh?"

  Nix exhaled a stinking, relieved breath and offered a silent thanks to Aster, who watched over scoundrels.

  "Just get them out of here," Beard said. "They're asking a lot of questions inside the tavern."

  Inside the tavern. Then he
was
just outside the
Tunnel
. He considered raising a ruckus, but didn't see the point. It would only earn him another blow to the head. And no one in the
Tunnel
could help him. He and Egil had been arrested under the authority of the Lord Mayor, at least ostensibly. Whores, madams, and a barely literate tapkeep wouldn't know it was a sham, and even if they did, they wouldn't risk trouble with the city authorities. Nix couldn't blame them.

  Not an hour ago, Nix had entertained thoughts of crawling into bed with Kiir, of sleeping with his arms around Tesha.

  So much for either of those.

  He really didn't understand why everyone thought him lucky.

  "One, two, three," one of the men said, and his captors tossed him face first into the back of straw-lined wagon. His jaw hit the boards and the impact caused him to bite his tongue. He gritted his teeth against the flash of pain, swallowed the blood, and held his silence.

  The straw smelled of goat and dung. His tongue throbbed, and his shoulders, head, and jaw all ached, but he feigned unconsciousness until the men moved off. He heard them talking some distance away from the cart, but the sack and the beat of his heart in his head allowed him to make out only useless bits of the conversation.

  Tentatively, he tried the knots on his wrist – tight, skillfully tied. He could work himself free given enough time, even with his hands mostly numb, but he had no idea how much time he had or whether anyone was watching him.

  "Is that you?" said Egil in a low tone.

  "Aye," Nix answered softly.

  "You and your damned gewgaws," Egil grumbled.

  "Even bound you can't resist a jab."

  "Apologies," Egil whispered. "We're not shrunk anymore."

  "I know. You all right?"

  "Not especially," Egil said, and shifted his weight. "I'm bloodied, hooded, and trussed like a roasting pig."

  "Me, too," Nix said.

  "We're outside the
Tunnel
still," Egil said. "I heard them talking."

  The voices of the men grew louder, so Egil and he lapsed into silence. Nix heard a few farewells, and the wagon dipped as two or three men climbed aboard the driver's bench.

  A moment later and the wagon started to move, the wheels slicing quietly through the mud of the road, the men in the front cursing at the horses and each other. Nix thought he made Beard's voice among them, and maybe the pockmarked hiresword.

  Nix still couldn't understand how the hiresword fit in with the four watchmen. They must have been in it together from the outset, the events of the night one big setup.

  But why?

  "What's going on?" Egil whispered.

  "Dunno, and don't care to find out," Nix answered. "Back to back. I undo."

  "Right."

  Making as though the rough ride were causing him to slide toward Egil, Nix rolled onto his side and scooted back until he could reach Egil's bonds. His blood-deprived hands, the bumpy ride, and his own bonds made things difficult, but he got his fingers on Egil's bindings and checked the knot by feel – a foursquare – and started to undo it.

  "Quickly," Egil hissed.

  "You sure?" Nix said over his shoulder. "Because I thought I'd go slow."

  "Just do it."

  Nix got half the knot undone and Egil tried to pull it loose the rest of the way, fouling Nix's progress.

  "Stop!" Nix hissed. "Your movement'll retighten them."

  "Hey!" shouted a voice from the front of the wagon – the hiresword for certain. "They're trying to slip the ropes!"

  Reins jangled, horses neighed, and the wagon stopped abruptly.

  "Stop!" said Beard, and the wagon bobbed as men debarked.

  "Come on!" Egil said. "Move!"

  "Not helping."

  Another of the knot's squares loosened.

  "Stop!" Beard again.

  "You… already… said… that," Nix said.

  A thump against the side of the wagon, a curse as someone tried to climb the side and slipped off into the road. Hurried boot steps on the cobbles, coming around the back of the wagon.

  "That's it!" Nix said, feeling the last of Egil's knot give way. "Go!"

  Frantic motion beside him, Egil lurching up. The priest shouted a challenge and Nix imagined Egil pulling off his hood, lashing out with his fists.

  "Four of them, Nix," Egil shouted, then grunted as a punch or truncheon struck him. "Whoreson!"

  Another blow landed, the dull thud of wood on flesh. Another grunt of pain from Egil. Nix worried at his own knots, but was making too little progress. He cursed as more blows slammed into Egil. More grunts from the priest, a few more curses, and then it was over. Egil fell heavily back, groaning.

  "Fakking bungholes!" Nix said. "My blade's soon to make a home between your ribs!"

  "Can I shut him up?" the hiresword said.

  "Aye," said Beard. "Knock him out and be sure of it this time."

  "Right," said the hiresword.

  There was a dull thunk, another groan, and Egil went still beside him.

  "Shit," Nix cursed.

  "Didn't have to go this way," Beard said. "All you had to do was sit still."

  "Fak you," Nix said, and braced himself.

  The blow to his head still summoned a grunt of pain. He saw sparks, lovely fireworks like those the cults fired from the Archbridge. They lasted only a moment, then he saw nothing at all.

 

Nix came to with a groan, someone shaking him hard by the shoulders. His head was still covered in the damned sack, but he wasn't in the cart anymore. Instead he sat on cold earth, the damp seeping through his trousers. He caught a whiff of fish and sewage.

  That put them near the Meander, probably in the Docks.

  How long had he been out this time?

  "Up!" said Beard, still shaking him. "Up, man!"

  The shaking made Nix's head pound. He nearly blacked out again.

  "Wake up, Nix Fall," Beard said again, shaking even harder. "You're soon to be in the presence of your betters."

  "That ain't saying much," Nix managed. His mouth sounded like it was filled with cloth.

  "Still with the smart mouth," Beard said. He shook him again, but a bit more gently.

  "Enough, man! I'm awake." Nix tried to push him away but his hands were still bound. His head started to clear a bit. "Where's Egil? Egil!"