When the Heavens Fall (9 page)

He swore. His hunter should have passed by now.
Unless the bastard saw me enter the alley.
But then why hadn't he followed Luker in? Had the chitter monkeys given away his presence?
He's good,
Luker thought grudgingly. Another Guardian perhaps, or one of the emperor's men, sent to make sure he did not flee the city? Whoever he was, Luker couldn't allow himself to be followed—one unwelcome guest would be enough for Jenna tonight. Nor did he have time to play hide-and-seek across the whole Shroud-cursed city.
Let's see if he's got the stones to follow me into the Warren.

Luker retreated down the passage and began threading his way through the streets until he came to the Old City Wall. Following it south, he stopped when he came to a breach leading into blackness. The Wall was an armspan lower than when he'd last been here, the missing stones no doubt pilfered to build more of the hovels that crowded the district beyond. What remained of the Wall was covered with writing in a score of different languages: Kerinec, Fenilar, Remnerol, Maisee, along with others Luker did not recognize.

The black skulls painted to either side of the breach needed no translation, though.

Luker stepped through. He entered an alley so narrow that if he stretched out his arms, his fingers would brush the walls on either side. No light escaped from the shuttered windows. Above, the overhanging eaves almost touched. Luker had gone no more than a dozen paces when he saw a beggar hunched in a doorway. A lookout, maybe. As the Guardian drew level, the man leered at him, then thrust out a hand missing two fingers. Another time Luker might have given him a handspan of steel in his guts. Instead he shook his head and continued on.

Setting a course roughly east, he followed the alleys that led down to the sea. The sound of the wind was muted here, as if the storm prowled the edge of the Warren but dared not enter. A pity the rain hadn't stayed away as well, but at least it seemed to have kept the usual dross at home, for the streets thus far had been uncharacteristically empty.

It couldn't last.

Sure enough, as Luker approached the next corner he heard a noise from round the bend. Halting, he cocked his head to listen, trying to screen out the drumming of the rain on the rooftops. There it was again. A screeching sound. He glanced round the corner. A short distance ahead a wall had collapsed, partly blocking the way. And on an intersection too.

Perfect spot for an ambush.

Luker drew his swords and approached the obstruction. The air was thick with the stench of death. A small body was partly buried beneath the rubble, and dark shapes swarmed over and around it, drifting in and out of the shadows.
Rats.
And it looked like the Guardian had disturbed their feeding. Reaching out with his Will, he explored the streets beyond the debris. As expected, three figures waited in the alley to his left, two to his right, another two ahead, and doubtless more would be coming up behind to box him in. Luker had no intention of retreating, though. Hit hard and fast, and he could turn this ambush before the idiots even knew they'd lost the advantage of surprise.

Now the fun begins.

He clambered over the rubble, expecting the attack to come while the stones were shifting beneath him. Nothing moved in the darkness. Raising a Will-shield in front of him, he stepped down with a splash into ankle-deep water.

Still the ambushers waited.

Luker approached the intersection, looking neither left nor right, his steps unhurried.

His only warning was the swish of parting air. Two crossbow bolts struck his Will-shield and cannoned off. At the same instant a flash of silver sliced the blackness to his left, and he brought up his sword on that side. There was a clang of metal striking metal. The force of the blow jarred his arm, but he still managed to twist his wrist to trap his enemy's weapon, stabbed out with his right blade and felt the tip sink into flesh. There was a groan, followed by the clatter of a sword falling onto stone.

The shadows came alive to either side, flowing toward Luker like wraiths.

The Guardian was already moving. Three strides took him into the opposite passage, his footsteps kicking up spray. Two figures waited in the gloom, but Luker was onto them before they were set.

“What—”

The first could only half lift his sword to meet the Guardian's cut, his mouth making a great “O” of surprise as Luker's weapon tore open his throat. The second—a huge man with a mace—tried to jump back to give himself room to swing, only to trip over his own feet.

“Shit!”

Luker caught the first man as he fell, twisted, and pushed him into the path of a third attacker coming up behind. They went down with a splash and a strangled curse. A fourth assailant threw a dagger, but the Guardian blocked it with his Will. A kick to the face of the maceman trying to rise, then he was off at a scamper into the darkness, his Will-shield now behind him.

A left turn, a right, checking back every few paces for signs of pursuit.

When he finally drew up to listen he could make out voices behind, but fading quickly beneath the growl of the storm. The Guardian smiled.
Looks like I've stirred up the hornet's nest.
All he could do now was hope whichever of the emperor's lackeys was following him got stung.

Half a bell later he emerged onto the road that fronted the port. In the distance rose the wall that circled the harbor, and Luker heard the boom of waves crashing against stone. Spray was thrown up into the air to hang like mist. He tasted salt on the wind.

The inn he was looking for was set apart from the others on the waterfront. A faded wooden sign hung crookedly from a metal pole outside, squeaking as it rocked back and forth. There were bars over the windows, and a dull red glow came from inside. The front door swung open as Luker approached, and two men emerged with their arms linked, staggering as if they crossed the deck of a pitching ship. Inside, a scattering of people sat at crude wooden tables. Their conversation died away as Luker entered, his footsteps thudding on the floorboards. He scanned their faces, but Jenna was not among them.

A short, black-haired woman stood behind the bar. She was using a sliver of wood to clean dirt from under her fingernails. “What'll it be?”

“Ale,” Luker replied, placing a coin on the bar.

The barmaid snatched it up. She filled a tankard and set it down with a thunk. As she turned away, Luker put a hand on her arm.

“I'm looking for Jenna Amary,” he said.

The woman glanced at something over the Guardian's shoulder. “Never heard of her.”

Following the direction of her gaze, Luker saw three men sitting at a table by the window. On the table lay a pair of dice and several piles of coins. One of the men was making a coin dance across the fingers of his right hand. “'Course you haven't,” Luker said to the barmaid. “Just tell her a friend is here to see her.”

Without waiting for a reply, he crossed to an empty table from which he could watch the rest of the common room. Shrugging out of his sodden cloak, he drank a mouthful of ale before settling back in the shadows to wait. Within a dozen heartbeats the three dice-players were on their feet. One walked over to speak to the barmaid. The blackened scars of a Kerinec tribesman traced an intricate pattern down his cheeks and neck to disappear beneath the collar of his patchwork cloak. A longknife was sheathed in a scabbard at his hip. His two companions made their way to the front door. The first slipped outside; the second closed the door behind him and stood guard in front of it. When his gaze met Luker's, the Guardian raised his drink to him.

Pressure was building behind his eyes, and he hoped Gill was suffering likewise for his use of the Will. It had been a long time since Luker had last had another Guardian turn his power on him, and never before had he locked horns with someone of Gill's strength. He massaged his temples with his thumbs. For now his headache was mild, but the pain would get worse unless he could find some mesina herbs to blunt its edge …

A floorboard creaked.

Luker looked up to see the Kerinec tribesman standing a few paces away. His gaze was fixed on Luker like he was trying to look threatening.

A woman's voice spoke. “Back off, Gol. You're out of your league here.”

The speaker came to stand next to the tribesman. Dressed all in black, she might have passed on a brief inspection for the Kerinec's shadow. The tribesman cast her a warning look, but she waved him away. “Leave us.”

Gol retreated to his table.

The woman's face was hidden by a hood, but Luker recognized her all the same. “Jenna.”

Jenna did not respond. Pulling down her hood, she shook out her long dark hair. Luker's breath caught. Her right eye was half-closed, the skin around it bruised and swollen. There were scratches on her neck, and an angry red cut along her jaw. Her lips were tinged blue, and the sweet tang of juripa spirits hung heavy about her. When she spoke again, Luker could hear smoke in the gravel of her voice. “Making new friends?” she said, looking at Gol.

“Don't think he likes me, but I'll get over it. Since when have you needed a minder?”

Jenna ignored the question. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “The question was why.”

“Does there have to be a reason?”

“You didn't stop by to tell me you were leaving. Why bother coming now to tell me you're back?”

Luker sipped his ale, his gaze not leaving Jenna's over the rim of his tankard. “Didn't realize I had to report my movements to you. Matter of fact, I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone.”

“For a while I didn't. But when the months became years, I assumed you were dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. Are you going to sit down?” This was going well. Good to know after so much time they could pick things up right where they left off.

Jenna pulled out the bench across from him, then moved it round to the side of the table so she could see the common room.

“Still don't trust me to watch your back?” Luker said.

“Old habits die hard. Were you followed?”

The Guardian's eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

“Did you lose him?”

“I reckon so. Took him to see the sights of the Warren. Was he one of yours?”

“Of course not. I didn't even know you were back, remember.”

“Then how…” Understanding came to Luker. “You reckon someone followed me to find you?” Someone who
did
know he was back.

“It's possible.”

“Why? Who's after you?”

“None of your damned business.” Jenna beckoned to the barmaid, and the woman arrived moments later with an empty glass and a half-full bottle of spirits. Jenna pulled out the cork with her teeth and poured herself a drink. The vapors made Luker's eyes water. “So how long's it been?” Jenna said. “Three years? Four?”

“Two.”

“From the sight of you, I'd have thought it was longer.”

Luker eyed her cuts and bruises. “We can't all have your pride in our appearance. What happened to your face?”

“I slipped putting on my makeup. What do you bloody well think happened?”

“One of your targets fought back, did he? How rude of him.”

Jenna's eyes flashed. “Her, actually. And I made sure she wished she'd gone quietly.”

“Not like you to get up close and personal on a job.”

The assassin knocked back her drink and refilled her glass. “I had no choice. My employer wanted a
trophy
.” She spat out the word. “My crossbow bolt took the bitch in the shoulder. She fell badly from her horse. Lay so still I thought she was dead.”

“She didn't offer you the chance of a second shot?”

“I'm glad you find it amusing.”

Luker's headache was getting worse, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. “Seems she put up quite a fight. Who was she? Another pro?”

“You don't want to know.”

“Try me.”

Jenna shook her head. “Even you wouldn't want to get mixed up with these people.”

“Then why did you?”

The dice-player guarding the front door had returned to sit with the Kerinec tribesman, Gol. An argument started up over the size of one of the piles of coins. In answer to Luker's question the assassin said, “My agent cut corners—didn't ask as many questions as he should have. Too bad for him. He soon regretted—”

“Spare me the details. I know how this story ends.”

Jenna shrugged. “He had it coming. I couldn't risk the woman's friends tracing me through him. No loose ends.” She seemed anxious to change the subject. “You still haven't told me where you disappeared to.”

“Taradh Dor.”

The assassin waited for him to continue. Then, when Luker remained silent, she gulped down another glass of spirits and said, “That's it? Two years explained away in as many words?”

“There isn't much to tell.”

“I thought Arandas is where it's all happening. Strange for you to be so far from the action.” She smiled the crooked smile he remembered so well. “What's the matter, Luker? Getting a bit old for this, are you?”

He screwed up his face. “I'm thirty-six, not sixty-six.”

“If you say so.”

At that moment the door to the street burst open. Gol stood up so quickly his chair toppled over behind him. Jenna was also on her feet, a dagger appearing in her right hand. A gust of wind blew rain through the doorway and set the torches flickering. Outside, all was darkness.

A few heartbeats passed, but no one entered.

Then the spell broke, and Gol strode over to the door and slammed it shut. Jenna released her breath and sat down again.

“Bit edgy, aren't we?” Luker said. “You've spent so long in the shadows, you've started jumping at them.”