Authors: Tom Lloyd
The Ragged Man (31 page)
They sat in silence, sharing a jug of weak wine and watching gangs of labourers work through the rubble of the buildings that had once stood to the right of them; the place where Sebe had been holed up with his poison-tipped arrows, from where he shot Aracnan. And it was there he had died, when the immortal mercenary had indiscriminately unleashed the power of his Crystal Skull, killing hundreds in a storm of raging magic.
‘Here’s to you, Sebe,’ Veil said at last, raising his goblet in salute, ‘you monkey-faced little bugger. We’ll miss you.’
Doranei kept quiet, he’d said his goodbyes already, but he downed the rest of his wine with the other two. When a girl brought them a plate of bread and white crumbly cheese he ignored it and picked up the wine jug, his eyes still on the workmen below.
‘Something I thought I’d never see,’ he said eventually, more to himself than the others. ‘You see those men with white scarves tied round their necks?’
Veil looked up from his food a moment. ‘Look like they’re in charge of the work. Some sort of labourers’ guild? I saw a few on the way here like that.’
Veil was a wiry man a few winters younger than Doranei. He wore his dark hair long, tied back with twine. Unlike Doranei he’d been late coming into the care of the Brotherhood; he’d been twelve winters when his parents died of the white plague. He’d been marked as someone worth watching from his very first night, when he’d blackened Ilumene’s eye before the older boy had managed to land a blow, a very rare occurrence.
‘I’ve been asking about that building. The owner was killed when it collapsed, but someone bought the plot and is rebuilding. Word is that it’s going to be some sort of sanctuary.’
‘And?’
‘And that sanctuary will be for anyone in need, run by followers of the child Ruhen — that’s what the white scarves signify. They’re the ones camped outside the Ruby Tower.’
Veil took a closer look at the men Doranei was talking about. One wore a tattered leather jerkin that looked like padding to go underneath mail; the rest looked in even worse condition. ‘It’s no sense of civic duty. The fucker’s pissing on Sebe’s grave.’
‘The ones you saw in the other districts have been preaching a bit too, mainly anti-cult talk. There’s no one in Byora going to defend any of the cults nowadays, not since the clerics’ rebellion when they tried to assassinate the duchess. Sebe and I started listening when we realised there’s a whole bunch of them spreading the word. Those who’re receptive to the message are taken aside and told about a prophecy, a prophecy of the Saviour that’s known to only the Harlequins.’
‘Let me guess,’ Osh said grimly, ‘this prophecy sees no need for the cults at all?’
‘They’re keeping it close to their chests at the moment, only telling those willing to believe anything: the desperate, the poor, those with a grudge against the Gods or the cults. There have been stories running through the city for weeks now about Ruhen performing miracles — breaking a curse, protecting the duchess from the clerics trying to kill her — that’s what the crowd outside the compound are there for. They’re praying to this child to intercede on their behalf with the Gods.’
‘So those who know the secret put two and two together and get a new God for their pains.’
Veil grimaced, imagining what sort of God Azaer would make.
Osh paused mid-bite. ‘There’s a crowd of beggars outside the Ruby Tower gates? How big?’
‘Few hundred at least,’ Doranei said.
‘Are we talking fanatics here?’
‘Not for the most part, mostly folk broken by the Land they’re living in and desperate for something better.’
‘Thank the Gods,’ Osh said with relief. ‘We already know we’re going to have to deal with guards and distract any Menin soldiers — I don’t much fancy cutting my way through a crowd of men and women willing to die to protect the child.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Doranei said, ‘what tricks do we have on that front? The crowd should be easy enough to frighten out of the way, but that’s the easy part. We need a diversion to give us a chance, and I guess we’ll need every mage we’ve got inside the compound.’
‘The king has assembled a box of tricks for you to play with,’ Veil said with a half-smile. ‘For fighters we got the Brotherhood. We’ve got four thieves from Tio He who’re bloody covered in charms of Cerdin, and we’ve got Osh here. Plus two high mages in the forms of our favourite bickering old women — Masters Shile Cetarn and Tomal Endine — plus two battle-mages. And then we’ve the more unusual members of our team: Camba Firnin is an illusionist by trade, but she’s from the College of Magic and her bag of powders and chemicals’ll do more than just make you think you’re dead. Telasin Daemon-Touch you must’a heard of, and Shim the Bastard is a mage-killer, probably our best chance to deal with Aracnan. Daken plans on tying him to a stick and keeping him out front.’
Doranei sighed. ‘And then there’s Daken, the Mad Axe,’ he added.
‘Aye, and her that comes with him,’ Veil said darkly.
‘Daken and I have been speaking about that,’ Osh interjected. ‘Litania is a fickle bitch, to use Daken’s term. She comes out to play when she feels like it, and she causes havoc whenever she does. We cannot have her with us in the Ruby Tower; it’s just as likely she’ll be the death of us as she will any sort of help.’
‘So your suggestion is?’ Doranei asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.
‘Daken asks her to provide the diversion.’ Osh raised a hand, seeing Doranei open his mouth to argue. ‘We keep one of the king’s mages back in case all she does is swamp the district in butterflies or something of the like — you’ll want one in reserve anyway, to cover your retreat.’
‘But to willingly let the Trickster loose in a city?’ Veil asked, aghast. ‘You’ve no idea what destruction she could wreak!’
‘Do we have a choice?’
Neither of the Brothers replied. Doranei looked towards the upper levels of the Ruby Tower, visible above the rooflines. Veil continued to stare at Osh, trying to think of an argument against the proposal. He closed his mouth again when Doranei gave him a slap on the arm and pointed at the street opposite.
‘Look, what’s that all about?’
The cobbled street had a smoother patch just as it reached the crossroads, where Aracnan’s magic had somehow fused the cobbles together. It led from Eight Towers district, the widest and quickest route from the Ruby Tower through the city, and walking down it now was a group of a dozen men and women, some wearing white, some dressed entirely in white. Many carried long walking staffs, and all bore some sort of pack on their back.
‘They’re dressed for travel,’ Veil pointed out, peering forward.
‘Missionaries,’ Osh concluded with a grave face. ‘The word’s being spread beyond Byora.’
‘Piss and daemons,’ Doranei growled, pushing his wine aside and shoving a hunk of bread in his pocket. ‘As soon as they pass we go to look at the ground around the Ruby Tower. If they’re starting the next phase of their plan we need to stop it, and soon. I want Ilumene and the child dead by Prayerday.’
CHAPTER 13
Over the darkest hours Doranei’s élite company gathered by fits and bursts. Men and women in small, subdued groups appeared out of the mist at the door of a warehouse adjoining the minor gate between Coin, Byora’s financial district, and Breakale. At night Breakale was the quieter of the two — all Byora’s upscale gambling dens were located in Coin, well away from the disapproving clerics of Hale and the gangsters of Burn.
When he arrived Doranei found most of the company already assembled, but unlike the rest of the King’s Men he was unable to sit quietly. He prowled the warehouse, running the plan and escape route through his mind again and again, looking for flaws. The warehouse was crucial to their escape, providing a useful bridge between streets that were not quickly accessed otherwise — certainly not now a cart stood in the alley alongside the warehouse, waiting to block the remaining space.
He ascended the narrow staircase that led to a room above the rear entrance, from where Doranei could see the street and the gate into Coin. The gate was shut at this hour, of course, but since the warehouse was close enough to the wall for a nimble man to jump, that wouldn’t be the case for long. Once in Coin a second gate — guarded by Menin troops most likely — would let them into Eight Towers, and to the gate of the Ruby Tower itself.
‘More obstacles than I’d like,’ Doranei commented softly when Veil joined him. ‘This could go badly wrong, my friend.’
‘Aye, that it could,’ Veil said, looking unconcerned, ‘but that’s the way of it. On the other side of the coin we’ve got Cerdin-blessed thieves, mages and a fair amount of brawn, if it comes to that.’
The slim man was dressed in black from head to foot, unlike most of his comrades. They were going to make their way to the Ruby Tower as quietly as possible, with Veil leading the way until the alarm was raised, at which point Coran and Daken would take over.
‘What’s taking that mad bastard so long?’ Doranei muttered, still staring out of the window.
‘Peace, Brother,’ Veil urged, ‘he’s not late yet.’ He paused. ‘You’re as jumpy as a raw recruit, Doranei. What’s got you wound up?’
‘A woman,’ Doranei said darkly.
Veil frowned at that. ‘You heard from her?’
‘No, I kept her well out of this. Last time I saw her we, ah — ’ He faltered. ‘Well, I don’t know how I left it, really, but it felt sort of final. Can’t tell whether she’s been keeping an eye on me, but there’s this itch at the back of my mind.’
‘Reckon you’d be able to tell if she was tracking you?’
‘I guess not, but I got a burr of something nonetheless.’
‘You decided she’s our enemy now?’ Veil asked in surprise. Last time the subject had come up, Doranei had been emphatic that Zhia wasn’t working with Azaer, and her actions had borne his assessment out. ‘What’s changed?’
Doranei rubbed a callused palm over his face. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘just a feeling. I could be wrong o’course, she’s had a hundred lifetimes to practise giving nothing away, but something’s got me thinking all the same. She’s a cold bitch when she wants to be — think she surprises herself when she’s with me — but there was always a part of her that was closed off.’
‘Aye, well that’s her reputation,’ Veil said. ‘She might be a vampire, might be a heretic, but her heart’s that of a blood-sucking politician.’
Doranei nodded. ‘She’s been doing it for too long, it’s what she is. I’m just scared she might decide what Azaer did in Scree was a true demonstration of the shadow’s power. Cursed with compassion she might be, but she’ll still take sides with Azaer if she can break her curse.’
‘And if that happens,’ Veil finished, ‘we’re in a whole heap of trouble.’
As Veil spoke there came a quiet knock at the door downstairs. Both men were up and moving before it had even been opened, hands moving automatically to their weapons. When Daken slipped through the doorway, his face more animated than before, it was clear the operation was in motion.
‘It’s done?’ Doranei asked.
‘That it is,’ Daken replied, lifting his mail shirt in evidence. The white-eye’s broad chest was missing the large tattoo of Litania the Trickster; the skin where she’d been looked raw and painful. He grinned. ‘She said she’d give me time to get here. I left her slipping into some servant girl near the Menin barracks.’
‘Any idea what she’s going to do?’
Daken’s grin got wider. ‘She’s not one for plannin’ but that girl’s hungry for a bit o’ fun. They’ll be distracted all right!’
‘Then we’re off. Get moving, Veil.’
As Veil and the youngest of the four Tio He thieves headed for the roof, Doranei turned to the rest of his troops. ‘Everyone remember their job? Any questions? All got your equipment?’
‘Stop fussin’ like an old woman,’ Daken growled, ‘we’re good to go and you ain’t in charge, remember?’
‘The plan’s mine,’ Doranei reminded. ‘If everything’s in place, then I’m yours to command.’
‘That’s the sort o’talk I like.’ Daken pointed past Doranei to the smaller of the warehouse’s two doors, the one leading to the gate. ‘Time to move.’
Upstairs, Veil pulled himself up onto the building’s roof and hauled his companion up after him. The greater moon, Alterr, was hidden by cloud, and this deep into the night, the Poacher’s Moon was hours off. Veil sensed as much as saw the swift dark clouds sweep east overhead. He made his way to the corner of the building closest to the wall and knelt to check the iron hook they had put there that afternoon.
‘Ready, Dirr?’ he asked softly.
‘Hurry up old man,’ Dirr replied, with an obscene gesture.
Veil secured a rope to the hook and slipped over the edge, lowering himself down until he felt his boots reach the jutting edge of a beam that ran down the side of the building, almost the height of the wall beyond. He retreated along the beam a little and let the rope play out, then signalled to Dirr before launching himself forward. He ran a few steps along the beam and jumped forward, pulling hard on the rope, using the hook as a pivot to swing himself up to the district wall.
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