Thieves' World: Enemies of Fortune (21 page)

Spyder had then told her all about the damnable tournament. In fact, it seemed they might stand there talking all day, but then Spyder’s mysterious and beautiful mate came strolling down the stairs, saw Kadasah’s rather blatant display, and Kaytin swore he heard the woman growl.

Kadasah took one look at the woman and the way Spyder looked at her and seemed to realize she was wasting her time. She said her good-byes and left. Kaytin had followed her, as he always followed, even though in that moment he had known … . Nothing had changed between them. She was using him before, and she was using him now. Kaytin meant nothing to her; he was just, well … her man whore.

To add insult to injury she had chided him all the way home for not telling her about the tournament, which she was sure she could have won.

He had been silent, pouting, for all the good it had done him. If Kadasah had noticed at all, she did a fine act of hiding it.

There was very little he could do about the position he had put himself into. His mother had disowned him, and he had no place else to go. As little as Kadasah had, Kaytin had even less. His mother had been in such a rage over his affair with Kadasah—it was so hard to hide things from people with the sight—that she’d thrown him out with only the clothes on his back, screaming after his departing form that she had no son.

Kaytin didn’t even have a marketable trade. The only job—if you could call it that—he’d ever been any good at was listening in on other people’s conversations, blending in, being relatively unnoticed, and reporting the things he heard back to his family. And now … well, none of them were actually talking to him.

So his life was playing decoy for Kadasah, and being her love monkey.

He could probably get a job as a bartender or a dockworker and rent a place in town. There were other women, many women, women who had loved him, who would take him in.

There was only one problem.

He loved Kadasah with every fiber of his being. He would willingly stay with her forever, even in this hovel.

If she didn’t frog him to death.

K
adasah belched loudly then yelled—just to make sure he was awake no doubt, “Hey, Kaytin! You want some scrambled eggs?”

“Yes,” he said in a small, tired voice, trying not to think about where she had gotten the eggs and what condition they might be in. It hardly mattered. Whatever they had been before, they’d be cinders when Kadasah was done with them. He had heard once that charcoal was good for your digestion. If that was the case, he’d never have to worry about any ailments of the stomach.

He heard her starting to cook. She’d obviously been up long enough to get the fire going. She was whistling a happy tune as she clanged the one spoon against the one skillet, and it sounded like doom to him.

T
hey had just left the pub after a couple of pints and a bit of bread and cheese. Normally Kaytin would have scoffed at such a bland meal, but after three days of Kadasah’s cooking it had been like a little slice of heaven.

“You never listen, or you would have known about the tournament,” Kaytin said, wishing this argument wouldn’t have started up again. He climbed onto the back of his mule.

“People purposely kept the news from me because they knew that I would win,” Kadasah said, now accusing the general population as she climbed onto her red stallion, Vagrant. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kadasah asked as she started riding toward the ruined Temple of Savankala.

“For the hundredth time I
did
tell you. Kaytin talks, and you do not listen.” The truth was he hadn’t told her about the tournament because he knew she would enter if she had known about it, and although she was a spectacular fighter, even
he
didn’t believe she was as good as she thought she was. Since she really did only half listen to him she wasn’t likely to catch him in his lie.

“I do listen … most of the time,” she said, then added, “you should have told me more than once and when I was sober. They said the prize was some jewel worth a lot of money.”

“Maybe we could have bought a new tarp,” Kaytin muttered with mock enthusiasm.

“What’s that?” Kadasah asked.

“Nothing.”

“You know, Kaytin, if you didn’t prattle on so, saying meaningless nothings and mumbling, I might actually listen to you when you were talking.”

“Are you listening now?”

“I am,” she assured him.

“Did you hear what those fellows at the table behind us were saying about the ship?” Kaytin asked excitedly.

“Yeah, big deal …”

“Kadasah, the ship wasn’t like anything anyone has seen before. It was in perfect condition. Its cargo was still intact. There was no one on board, not alive and not dead.”

“So? It’s just a ship, big froggin’ deal,” Kadasah said as she reined Vagrant to the left as they turned a street corner.

“So … you don’t find it even a little interesting?” Kaytin asked, more than a little disappointed.

Kadasah shrugged. “Not as interesting as that,” she said in a whisper. She nodded her head to the right where a man was looking around covertly before ducking between two buildings into a narrow alley.

“Who is that?” Kaytin asked.

“That’s a member of Naimun’s entourage, and he lives in the castle, so what is he doing in this part of Sanctuary just before the beginning of the early watch?” She jumped off Vagrant, who immediately came to a complete standstill. Then she looked at Kaytin as if demanding that he do the same thing.

“We never do what I want to do,” Kaytin mumbled as he watched Kadasah fold herself into the gloom of early evening. “No, no, that’s all right. I’ll just stay here with the animals, no need to worry about Kaytin.” He glared at the horse. “She loves you more than Kaytin,” he muttered accusingly, and he could swear the horse smiled. Kaytin sighed. “Even the animal he laughs at Kaytin’s pain.”

K
adasah. recognized the man from her days in the palace. He might have dressed down, but he still stuck out like a sore thumb to her hunter’s eye. She might not listen, but, she saw plenty well.

She tracked him down the narrow alley and wasn’t too surprised at all when he seemed to be taking a back way to the ruined Temple of Savankala. She slung herself into a doorway to hide when she saw him stop as he entered the seemingly deserted temple ruins and looked around, no doubt to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

It was nowhere near cloak weather, but she found herself wishing she had her black one just because it would have helped her hide in the shadows. She continued to follow him only when she was sure he hadn’t seen her.

If he isn’t up to no good, then why is he so worried?
she thought. Kadasah was pretty sure that she knew what he was up to.

She’d tried to tell those hardheaded, sheep-shite-for-brains idiots who were holed up in the palace that the Dyareelans were back in force. That they had planted people in Arizak’s own court, but none of them would listen. Not to her. She was unstable in their eyes. Kadasah grated against everything they believed she should be. She wasn’t a proper Irrune. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Her quarry disappeared from in front of her. She knew exactly what that meant because she knew about this opening into the Dyareelan tunnels.

She went back to where she had left Kaytin and Vagrant, took the horse’s reins, and started leading him back the way she’d just come. Kaytin got off his mule and followed.

“Well?” he asked in a whisper.

“We’re going to take a shortcut to the ruins tonight.”

“Was it who you thought it was?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it. He turned and I got a good look at his face. It’s him all right. I can’t remember his name, but it’s him—one of Naimun’s boys. He went right down into the tunnels, too, so either he’s going after them—which I sort of doubt since he was alone—or he’s one of them.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to wait for him to come up, and then we’re going to grab him, take him to Arizak, and make him confess—give up his buddies, too. I’ll prove I wasn’t just talking shite.”

“Kaytin hates when you say ‘we,’” Kaytin whined. “You say ‘we’ and
I
get hurt. My own sweet love, let us not make the chief’s problem our own. They will not listen to you no matter what proof you bring, for they have branded the woman with the purest heart in all of Sanctuary as a deceitful, drunken, troublemaker.”

“Frogs, Kaytin, I don’t have time for your crap. Come own.”

Kaytin followed, dragging his mule behind him, his chin nearly resting on his chest. He knew this was not going to end well.

T
hey waited, and they waited, and then they waited some more, until it was pitch dark and near the late watch. Kaytin was convinced that Kadasah had either dreamed the whole thing or the man had left from another opening. Then they heard a shuffling sound, there was a sudden motion, and there he was.

He appeared to be alone, not that Kaytin suffered from, any notion that Kadasah would have stayed in hiding if twenty of the Bloody Hand had come boiling up out of that hole.

She struck a match and lit the rag hanging from the bottle she held in her hand, and then tossed the bottle down the hole just to be on the safe side. It wouldn’t do any real damage, but it would at the very least stop anyone from coming out of the hole for the next few minutes.

As the man turned to face her she pulled the sword from her back. There was a small explosion, and then a very gratifying plume of flame erupted from the hole at her back.

The man drew his own sword.

“You again,” he hissed. “Kadasah, I told them they should hunt you down, but it’s just as well they didn’t. No one believed you, and now I get to kill you myself. I will go back to the palace holding your head up high, and all will praise me.”

“Listen, pud, no man has ever bested me with sword. I’ve killed everyone I ever intended to kill, but I don’t want to kill you. I need you alive, to be my proof,” Kadasah announced.

“You live in a dream world, Kadasah. You cannot kill me for I am a servant of Dyareela! I shall drain your blood for the Dark Mother.” He ran at Kadasah, and she easily parried his blow. Then she slapped him in the back of his head with the flat of her blade, driving him to his knees, but he jumped up and charged at her again. Kaytin leaped forward, stuck out a foot, and tripped the man. He went flying, landing at Kadasah’s feet, and before she could stop herself instinct took over and she slammed her blade through the back of the guy’s neck.

“Frogs!” Kadasah exclaimed as she pulled the blade from the wound.

M
eral had been sound asleep when he heard the calls for help. In his line of work it wasn’t an altogether rare occurrence. He was a healer, and as such was prepared to be awakened at all hours of the night, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and ready to go to work. He rose from his pallet, lit a candle, put on his boots, and walked into the middle of the apothecary where the two strangers stood holding a man between them by the arms.

He lit a lantern for better light then walked over to take a good look at the injured … very, very, dead man.

“Can you fix him?” the Irrune woman asked as she and her cohort dropped the man on his face.

Meral grimaced and looked up at them. “Was he a friend, Kadasah?” Meral asked guardedly. Kadasah and her friend weren’t exactly the sort of people a wise man wanted to give bad news to. She was tall even for an Irrune, and she wore the black leather armor and weapons, not to mention the scars of one who had seen many battles. It was hard to tell what race the man was, Ilsigi maybe. Though shorter than his female counterpart, he was no less capable, and the dirk he wore at his belt looked as if it had gotten plenty of use.

“Nah,” she said with a smile. “He’s Dyareelan swine, but I need him alive to prove a point, so … can you fix him, Meral?”

“I’m afraid he’s rather dead,” Meral announced after kneeling and taking a closer look just for their benefit.

“Are you sure?” Kadasah asked in a disappointed voice.

Meral stood up and looked at her with a smile. “The blade seems to have both severed his neck from his backbone and cut his windpipe in two. In my medical opinion, he’s quite dead.” Meral marveled at the fact that there wasn’t a lot of blood; the blow had managed to bring death without hitting any major blood vessels. “On a brighter note, it’s a very clean kill.”

“Could you check him again just to be sure? I sort of need him alive,” she said.

“I told you he was dead, Kadasah. You don’t have to be a healer to see that. You stabbed him through the back of his neck.”

Kadasah gave her companion a dirty look then turned to Meral, smiled helplessly, and said with a shrug, “It’s a very good sword. Are you sure you can’t … I don’t know … make a potion to bring him back?”

“Dead is dead,” Meral answered. “I’m a healer not a wizard.”

She nodded and sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“He … well, he doesn’t look like one of the Bloody Hand,” Meral said. He’d known Kadasah for a while and it wasn’t the first time she’d come to him when she was in trouble. Kadasah was hotheaded and he wouldn’t half put it past her to kill some poor soul over a dice game then want to take it back.

“Well of course he doesn’t, that’s the whole point,” she explained. “He’s a member of Naimun’s entourage.”

“They’ve infiltrated Arizak’s court?” Meral asked with astonishment and more than a little anxiety.

She seemed to realize then that she might have told him too much. He wondered just what she was up to, and now it looked like she wasn’t likely to tell him. She could be making up this whole story right off the top of her head. It would be just like Kadasah to do that, especially if she’d killed this fellow by accident

“Well, I guess we better take our body and go; sorry to have awoken you, Meral.”

“No problem.” It was, of course, but no sense telling Kadasah that. For one she wouldn’t care and for another it never hurt to have a mercenary of some reputation on your good side.