The Raike Box Set
Page 27
“Would it work?”
“Not even in a best case scenario.”
Alysia and her escort dropped out of sight. The attack would happen any moment now.
“How do you feel about really bad ideas?” I asked.
“They seem to be your forte as of late.”
“Thank you. When we’re done with this you’re going to tell me what ‘forte’ means. As for now, how about we pretend we’re Ispar?”
Lieutenant held his breath. “You might be able to pass for one of them but chances are they’ve already met Ispar’s swift talker.”
“So pretend to be a rattler.” The foursome above us were out of sight but they were far from gone. “It’s coming.”
Then the most wonderful sight I had seen all night came to us. A click from a pair of gnarled fingers. Greaser. Along with it was a signaled ‘V’.
I spoke loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t suppose anyone has found the two kids?”
Greaser shook his hand and retreated. Lieutenant and I kept heading down the street, taking our time so that we weren’t about to walk into a fight on the street. We stopped fifteen yards away from where we saw Greaser.
It didn’t take long.
An audible gasp and sickening crunch came twenty yards away. A grown man just fell splat onto the ground below. Another one from the other side of the street recovered from a sudden kick that was going to crash him to the ground as well. A set of grunts from above. A swipe of a blade.
Lieutenant and I ran in. Slammed a fist into the guy’s chest. Dragged him away.
Another guy fell to the ground, slamming his head against the stonework beneath him. Dead.
Our prisoner gasped, the wind knocked out of him twice, barely holding onto life. A mangled body now.
“Where’s Castor’s daughter?” I asked.
He wheezed, unable to breathe.
“She’s near a temple, right?”
He wasn’t all that responsive. I slapped him across the face while a clash of blades above us sounded through the night. Down the far end of the street a boy, maybe eight years old, ran out, stood perfectly still, turned, and ran as fast as he could. Another of Vanguard’s spies.
I slapped our prisoner again. “Where is Jorna stationed? Near a temple?”
He gasped, spluttering, desperately trying to suck on air that refused to come to him.
Lieutenant helped out by repeating the names of the temples in the area, one by one, until, “Was Jorna at the old temple of Asar?”
A nod. Every so slight, but it was there.
“Is that where the doctors took Castor’s daughter?” I asked.
He didn’t know.
“What about Día? The girl they kidnapped three days ago? Is she in the crag lands? In a barn? South of the city? East? Is she with Kasera? Do you have any idea where she is?”
A whole lotta shaking his head came and followed. Slowly the light in his eyes faded. His breathing eased. He fell unconscious.
Greaser and Runaway came down, heaving but alive. “All Vanguard, I’m afraid.”
“Twelve in one day,” said Runaway, eyeing up our dying captive. “No way this won’t turn into a war.”
Greaser peered into me like he was reading my soul. “You were speaking to Kasera’s daughter for a while.”
“She said Kiera died in the crag lands. That might be where Día is as well.”
“Could be a trap,” said Runaway.
“I believe her.”
“Yeah, but someone could’ve told her that an hour ago. She might believe it’s true but that doesn’t mean it’s real.”
Greaser nodded. “We have less than six hours until it’s too late. If you’ve been fed a lie then we’ll never find the doctors in time.”
I nodded to the dying rattler on the ground. “He indicated that Jorna was stationed near the old temple of Asar.”
“Any idea which building?”
“No.”
“What about how many rattlers or mages we’re about to face?”
“No.”
Greaser sighed, shaking his head at the lack of information we had. “I guess we better hurry.”
The temple of Asar was one of the oldest buildings in the city and tiny in comparison to the ones in the capitals of each province. This one was something of a cube base with a cylinder poking out of the four walls, or a cylinder with a cube jutting out of it, I suppose. Dome top. There’s supposed to be a crypt underneath each holy building. Religious revolutions were not uncommon when these things were built. Nor are they uncommon now. The priest and his flock would often have to hide underground until trouble settled down. If they were unlucky the rabble would barricade the flock inside and let the folks down below starve to death.
This particular plaza was a disjointed rectangle as though a narrow building had once stood in the middle of two squares that were never supposed to align, then someone demolished the central part and paved over it leaving it as an unsatisfying mess of angles and frontages. The temple sat in one corner, surrounded by buildings taller than itself. Somewhere in the area was – hopefully – Qin and Myalla.
We took a moment to look around. Three story buildings, four story buildings, flat rooftops, tiled rooftops, some angled, and lots of curtains flapping in the breeze.
We all ended up focusing on one building in particular. A sliver of light broke through a fixed wooden shutter, three stories up. Right on the corner. Tiled roof. Slanted. Probably the best view of the whole plaza. Not a single Vanguard spy in sight. The two stories below it had curtains. Shutters are best suited on the ground floor to keep thieves from heading inside.
“Let’s keep one of them alive,” I said.
“The mage,” said Lieutenant.
“Too risky,” said Greaser. “He could have a hundred spells charged, ready to use.”
Runaway shook his head. “No one has that many charged.”
“He might.”
“Are you really saying that he’s spent, what, three years of his life doing nothing but staying awake and starving himself to charge some spell, taking a maximum of two days to recover, then doing that all over again? No. Not happening.”
“Fine, then maybe he has only one spell charged,” growled Greaser. “If he does we don’t know when it will fire.” He looked back to me. “If it’s a choice between a mage and a mercenary, keep the mercenary alive. He’ll know where Día is.”
“And the mage won’t?”
“You saw two of the Destens moving around in a litter, right? Do you think they know their way around town?”
“The Destens are from Erast so I’d say yes.”
“But the mercenaries will have gone on foot. They’ll know the exact route they took.”
“Mercenaries aren’t as easy to scare as doctors.” I guess the weariness of the last few days had finally spilled over me, turning the top of my eyelids into anvils and demanding that I lie down and get some sleep. “How about we go in, gag whoever we find, and the first one to tell us where Día is gets to live a little longer?”
The fellas agreed.
We each readied a sash that could be used to gag or bind someone. I had to borrow one from Greaser. He wasn’t too thrilled to hear that one of mine was being used to gag a kid now lying in my old orphanage. At the least he would get an earful from Sesta Silvia in the morning. Upstairs we went.
I ducked down beneath the door to see what was inside. No luck. I moved away, signaling to Greaser. The door was likely barricaded. With a sigh, Greaser nodded to the roof.
Runaway came back to us a moment later, shaking his head and dropping his hands away like someone had just fallen through a trap. The roof was covered in light-weight tiles. We’d fall through and rip our legs to shreds.
Lieutenant couldn’t find any window that wasn’t boarded up. They’d have some kind of lock or barricade in place over those as well.
Of all the buildings in sight of the temple, this one was the only one that reeked of a
safe house. Of the many problems facing us, it was unlikely we could wait for whoever was inside to leave before dawn, even if they were desperate to use the latrine.
There was only one way for us to get a look inside the top-most floor. The roof. The building next door was four stories. The one we wanted to get into was three. Runaway was the lightest of us. He was volunteered to hang off the edge with Lieutenant and I holding his legs while he removed one of the tiles.
It required more patience than I had in me. Each tile was rounded and built with something of a lip in the back, allowing it to hook onto a thin wooden beam underneath. Each tile overlapped the ones surrounding it which made it stupidly awkward to pry free, especially if you’re upside down and trying not to make a sound.
The first tile refused to give. Runaway wiggled his blade in the middle of it, back and forth, until the tile cracked. He repeated that move to the tile above it, allowing the first to lift freely.
We hit a snag immediately. The tiles led directly to the room below. Normally there was a thin layer of paint to separate the tiles from the ceiling. Not the case this time. We each took a turn to peer inside. A lamp was alight. One man sat on a stool next to a table, reading. Gray clothes. Somewhere between thirty and forty years old. Familiar looking, even from the odd angle. He was the asshole who had catapulted me into Kasera’s compound only a few hours ago.
Another fella was against a far wall, almost directly under us, leaning back on a stool, watching the front door with a sheathed short sword in his hand. Qin lay sitting on the ground in the corner, blindfolded, his hands bound. No sign of Myalla but there was another room with an open doorway in sight.
The door was barricaded with a beam. We wouldn’t be going in that way. We pulled back to assess our options.
Crash through the roof? Dangerous.
Fire a spell at the mercenary? That would leave Desten the Leaf alive to fire one off at us.
Fire a spell at Desten? That left Qin’s life in the hands of an armed mercenary.
Fire a spell at both of them? I wish. Runaway was the only one of us still fully charged.
Find a bow and arrow? Not at this hour.
I did notice that our plans while tired were often radically different to the ones we came up with while fully rested. This was one such occasion.
Lieutenant returned to the front door. Since this was Runaway’s idea, he got to try his luck. He drew one of Ispar’s liberated short swords, unsheathed it, and dangled it point down over the hole.
I moved to where Desten sat at the table.
Lieutenant tapped on the door.
The mercenary down below snapped to attention, drew his sword, crossed the room.
Runaway released his grip.
The mage at the table scrambled away, swearing in dumbfounded shock.
The mercenary dropped to the ground with half of the sword’s blade exiting his chin.
I jumped, landing as flat as I could onto the roof to spread my weight. The tiles cracked, broke away, but I was still stuck on the roof with limited purchase and nothing but cracking tiles beneath me. The tiles broke free, raining down upon Desten below.
Greaser and Runaway stomped around the hole, smashing and breaking them apart until a larger hole had formed.
Greaser thumped Runaway in the chest, backing him out of the way from the shouting Desten beneath me. Greaser flicked pieces of tile at him, aiming for his face, again and again. He scrambled back as another bellow came from below. The hole was large enough. Runaway dropped down.
A blast knocked him against the wall before he even hit the ground. Runaway flung his knife across the room, narrowly missing the mage.
Greaser pointed me to head up. I rolled upward, sending shards of tiles down on top of Desten. Thumbs up from Greaser. Runaway was on his feet. Charged, his fists connecting.
A neighbor shouted at us. “Who’s out there?”
Greaser clicked at me to pull back to the four story building. I tried, moving like I had to crawl over a thousand eggshells without breaking any of them. Greaser helped me back up.
Runaway opened the door for us. Desten the Leaf – presumably junior – lay gagged, battered, and bruised on the floor. Greaser was turning over a couple of javelins in his hands, keeping one point close to Desten’s face.
I untied the sash around Qin’s eyes. He jolted back in an annoyance, gritting his teeth as though I was another member of the guys who had kidnapped him. Then he saw who I was and a sneer took its place. He looked over to Myalla, brought in from the other room. She was still bound and blindfolded.
Qin fired a dirty look at me. “Who the hell are you?”
At least he hadn’t broken character. That single question was going to earn him a few more coins, that was for sure. “General Kasera sent me,” I said.
Qin pulled another look, unsure of where I was going with the Kasera angle. His eyes darted from one side to the other, trying to figure out how long I had been listening in on his captor’s conversation.
I undid the rest of his ropes and restraints. Lieutenant freed Myalla. She gasped at the sight of us and retreated inwards, saying as little as possible.
Lieutenant did his best to comfort her. “We’re here to get you out. Can you walk?”
She nodded, shakily.
“Don’t worry. We’re the good guys.” His smile did the trick. “How did you get here?”
She shuddered from the whole ordeal, still in shock, mumbling a few, ‘I don’t know’s. I asked the same question to Qin.
“Some kind of ghost took me,” he said, massaging his wrists and glaring back at me like he was trying to figure out if he could get away with punching me or not. I glared back. “I was asleep in my room. The ghost screamed at me. I thought I was going to die. I really thought I was going to die. When I woke up, she–” he nodded to Myalla, “–was untying my ropes. We didn’t know where we were. It was a small room. Dark, without much light. We had to feel around the walls and floors, looking for a way out. Then, after waiting forever–” another glare came my way, “–a trapdoor from the ceiling lifted open. I thought we were going to be saved. We had been praying together. Endless praying. On our hands and knees for hours, praying out loud that someone would come and rescue us. Someone came in all right. People I had never seen before. They weren’t in any kind of uniform, either. They lifted us out. Asked our names. Then they fucking gagged us and put hoods over our heads. Hoods that itched and smelled. They threw us into those boxes that are carried by people. What do you call them?”
“Litters.”
“Right. Those things. I thought we were saved, you know? Maybe back to her parents. But no. We came here. They asked us a bunch of questions and then they started slapping me. I don’t know why they didn’t slap her but every time I told them the truth they slapped me harder and asked me the same stupid question over and over again. I don’t know why, I’m just an orphan living in an orphanage.” He grumbled at me then stole a quick glance at Myalla. “Anyway, as long as they were slapping me around they weren’t doing it to her. Well, maybe. I don’t know. They dragged her into another room and kept her there for a while.”
Lieutenant crouched back down in front of Myalla. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“Did they hit you?”
“No.”
“Did they talk to you?”
“No.”
“Ask you anything?”
“No.”
Lieutenant looked my way again. I guess they knew Myalla was innocent in all of this and had no quarrel with her.
“Can I go home now?” Qin asked.
“Of course,” I said. I crossed the room to Lieutenant and Myalla and dropped my voice lower. “Lieutenant?”
He paused at that, trying to figure out what I was doing. “… Sir?”
Good answer. “Take the girl back to General Kasera. He’ll know what to do with her. Make sure you don’t get ambushed along the way by whoever took her.”
“Myalla.”
“Your father is searching the entire city for you so he’s not home right now. I’m going to take you to General Kasera, okay?”
I couldn’t tell if she was still afraid of trusting people who claimed to be rescuing her or if she was genuinely afraid of Kasera. Hopefully Lieutenant would learn the truth. “Oh … kay …”
Lieutenant looked my way with an unspoken question. I pointed to the floor, marking this as our rendezvous point once he was done. He led Myalla to the door.
“Wait … Lucius …” She turned to Qin.
“I’ll be okay,” said Qin.
I said, “We’ll make sure he gets home safe and sound.”
“I hope your prayers come true,” said Qin, with a smile. As soon as Lieutenant and Myalla were out of earshot Qin dropped the act. “Holy crap was she the worst one ever.”
“Why?”
“Her family has a dozen house gods. You’d think that one would be enough but noooooo. There was a prayer to Alayties, Nymora, Silvair. Instead of shouting for help she prayed for help. Fine with me I guess, but her conversational skills weren’t really up to scratch. Did you know that I’m the fifth boy she has spoken to in her entire life? Three of the others are her cousins and one is something called a suitor. What the hell is a suitor anyway?”
“A potential husband.”
“Well good luck to him because she is as boring as hell. I didn’t even know they had all-girl schools until her. She kept looking at me funny.”
“How did you end up here?”
“I already told you. Trapdoor, rescued, not really rescued, litter box things, then a lot of slapping.”
“That’s the part I want to know more about. What were they asking you?”
“They wanted to know who I worked for and how to find you.”
“Did you tell them?”
“Fuck no. I just said exactly what they said back to them.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?”
“All right, I get it.”
“All right, I get it.”
“Qin?”
“Qin?”