‘I don’t know you!’
‘Because you are a fledgling! “Trust me”, and I even served together in the old days, before he came here to Nilfgaard.’
‘Well, if so…’ Said the man hesitantly, dropping his hand to the hilt of his sword. ‘Go in. I don’t give a shit…’
Skomlik pushed Ciri, another trapper grabbed her collar. They went inside.
Inside it was dark and stuffy and smelled of smoke and burning things. The inn appeared almost empty; only one table was occupied standing directly in the streak of light that came through the window of fish membranes. Sitting at it were several men. In the background, near the fireplace, the innkeeper was busy, rattling pots.
‘Honour to the lords of Nissir!’ Skomlik boomed.
‘We do not honour any ox.’ Snapped one of the company sitting by the window, spitting on the floor. Another stopped him with a gesture.
‘Quiet,’ he said. ‘These are our fellows, do you not recognise them? Skomlik and his Trappers. Welcome, welcome!’
Skomlik beamed and walked towards the table, but stopped when his eyes fixed on the pole that supported the beam. Next to the pole sitting on a stool was a thin, blond boy of less than twenty years, strangely bent and twisted. Ciri realized that the unnatural position stemmed from the fact that the boy’s hands were twisted back and tied, and his neck was attached to the pole by a leather belt.
‘May I be showered with pustules!’ One of the trappers that had seized Ciri’s neck, snorted loudly. ‘Look, Skomlik! It’s Kayleigh!’
‘Kayleigh? It can’t be!’
One of the Nissir sitting at the table, a fat man with hair cut into a picturesque forelock, bust out in a loud guttural laugh.
‘It can be.’ He said, licking a spoon. ‘It’s Kayleigh, in his filthy person. It paid off to get up at dawn. He shall fetch me at least thirty florins in good imperial coin.’
‘Kayleigh, well, well.’ Skomlik frowned. ‘That means the Nilfgaardian yokel spoke the truth…’
‘Thirty florins, damn.’ Remiz sighed. ‘That is something… Lutz, Baron of Tyffi pays it?’
‘Yes’ confirmed another Nissir with brown hair and a moustache. ‘Lutz of Tyffi, our lord and benefactor, is a powerful baron. The Rats robbed his governor on the highway, he is burning with rage and has put up a reward. And we, Skomlik, will take this reward, trust me. Ha, just look at the men here, like puffed up owls. It was not to their taste that we captured the Rat, we also have been ordered to track down the leader of the gang!’
‘Trapper Skomlik,’ the fat man with the pointed forelock, indicated Ciri with his spoon ‘you also caught something. A little girl. Do you see, Vercta?’
‘I see,’ a man with black whiskers flashed his teeth. ‘Skomlik are you so pressed by poverty, that you are stealing children for ransom? Who is this slut?’
‘Never you mind!’
‘Wow that was fierce.’ Laughed, the man with the forelock. ‘We just want to make sure she is not your daughter.’
‘He’s daughter?’ Vercta, the man with the black moustache laughed. ‘I say, to have a daughter means he’d have to have balls.’
The Nissir roared with laughter.
‘Ah, look mutton heads!’ Skomlik yelled. ‘To you Vercta, I’ll say no more, but before Sunday, you’ll be amazed who will be most famous, you and your Rat or me and what I do. And we’ll see who is more generous: your Baron or the imperial governor of Amarillo!’
‘You can kiss my ass.’ Vercta said contemptuously returning to his soup. ‘Along with your governor, the Emperor and all of Nilfgaard, trust me. I do not care. Even I know that Nilfgaard seeks a girl. I know there are rewards for her. But I don’t care shit for it. I’ve served the governors and Nilfgaardians and I spit on them. I now serve Baron Lutz and answer only to him and nobody is hurt.’
‘Your Baron,’ Skomlik croaked ‘serves Nilfgaard, he licks the boots of the Nilfgaardians. So do not speak so casually!’
‘Do not shout,’ said the Nissir in a conciliatory tone. ‘I should not have spoken against you, trust me. That you have the girl the Nilfgaardians are looking for is a good thing. I’d see with pleasure that you take the reward and not those fucking Nilfgaardians. And you serve the governor? Nobody chooses the masters, they would choose, right? Come on, sit down with us and let us drink to this meeting.’
‘Well, why not.’ Skomlik agreed. ‘Just give me a length of rope. I’ll tie the girl to the pole with your Rat, okay?’
The Nissir roared with laughter.
‘Skomlik, the terror of the border!’ Laughed the man with the large forelock. ‘The armed wing of Nilfgaard! Come on Skomlik, tie her up nice and strong. But use an iron chain, because this famous prisoner is ready to break the rope and break your noses before fleeing. She looks so dangerous that even my hair is standing on end.’
Skomlik and even his companions burst out laughing. The Trapper flushed, dropped the rope and approached the table.
‘I meant for security, not to take…’
‘Do not worry about these asses.’ Vercta interrupted, breaking the bread in his hands. ‘You want to talk, sit down and wait in queue. And this girl, you can hang her by her legs from the ceiling. I don’t care a pig’s shit. It is terribly funny, Skomlik. For you and your governor she is perhaps an important prisoner, but to me she is an emaciated and scared kid. Do you want to tie her up? She’s, trust me, barely able to stand upright, so how is she going to flee. What are you afraid of?’
“I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of.’ Skomlik bit his lip. ‘This is a Nilfgaardian village. Here we have not been welcomed with bread and salt, and for your Rat, they say they have a sharpened stick. And that is their right; the governor has decreed that justice is to be done to bandits at the site of their capture. And if the prisoner is not given to them, they are ready to sharpen sticks for you all.’
‘Oh dear,’ said the man with the forelock. ‘Crows frighten them. They better not put us in the midst of this or we will make their blood flow.’
‘We will not give over the Rat.’ Said Vercta. ‘We go to Tyffi. Baron Lutz can fix the issue with the governor. Ah, let them chatter in vain. Sit down.’
The trapper, let go of his sword belt, at the table the happy Nissir started yelling for the innkeeper. Skomlik grabbed a stool and kicked it towards the pole, grabbed Ciri by the shoulders and pushed her so she fell, hitting her arm on the bound boy’s knees.
‘Stay here.’ He growled. ‘And don’t move, you wiggle like a bitch.’
‘You louse.’ Cried the boy, looking at him with narrowed eyes. ‘You dog…’
Ciri did not know most of the words that flew out of the boys crooked and crumpled mouth, but by the changes occurring on Skomlik’s face she concluded that the words must have been incredibly filthy and offensive. The trapper paled with rage, his hands shook, he hit the bound boy in the face, grabbed him by his long hair and shook him, hitting the boy’s forehead into the pole.
‘Hey!’ Cried Vercta, while rising from the table. ‘What’s happening here?’
‘I’m removing the fangs from this filthy rat!’ Skomlik growled. ‘I’ll put both of my feet up his ass!’
‘Come here and stop tearing at his throat.’ The Nissir sat down, taking a gulp of beer from his mug then wiped his moustache, ‘Your prisoner can sit, we won’t stay long. And you, Kayleigh, don’t play the daredevil. Sit quietly and think about the scaffold which Baron Lutz has order be erected in town. The list of things the Baron is going to do to you is already written and trust me, it is three cubits long. Half the town has already bet to see how long you will hold. So save your strength Rat. I put a small sum of money on it myself and I hope that you do not disappoint me and hold out until at least castration.’
Kayleigh turned his head and spat, as much as the belt around his neck would allow. Skomlik pulled up his belt and measured Ciri with a malevolent look, then joined the company at the table, cursing, because the pitcher that the innkeeper had bou
ght only had a few remnants of foam.
‘How did you take Kayleigh?’ He asked, indicating his desire to extend his order to the innkeeper. ‘And on top of that, alive! Because his position in the Rats, I’ll give you credit.’
‘In truth,’ Vercta said, looking critically at what he had just removed from his nose, ‘we were lucky, that’s all. He split off from the gang to go through New Forge to see a wench and spend the night. The mayor, who knew we were not far, sent out a call. We were able to arrive before dawn and got him in the haystack, before he had time to chirp.’
‘And his wench entertained us all.’ Laughed the big man with the forelock. ‘Apparently her night with Kayleigh hadn’t satisfied her. When we were done with her she couldn’t move her arms or legs.’
‘Well then I say this to you bastards.’ Skomlik said loudly and mockingly. ‘You could have had more money. Instead of wasting time with the girl, you could have been applying heat to the Rat to find where the gang spent the night. You could have had Giselher and Reef… Just for Giselher, the Varnhagen of Sarda where offering twenty florins a year ago. And that fucker, what’s her name … Mistle, I think… For her the governor would have given more money after what she did to his nephew in Druigh when the Rats raided a convoy.’
‘You, Skomlik,’ scowled Vercta ‘are either stupid by nature, or this hard life has screwed with your head. We are a party of six. Was I going to attack the whole gang myself? And the reward will not escape us. Baron Lutz is going to roast Kayleigh’s heels in the dungeon, not waste time, trust me. Kayleigh is going to sing, giving us all the hiding places and shelters, and then we’ll go with a strong band, surround them and take them out like a crab from a shell.’
‘It’s clear. They are going to wait. When they learn that you captured Kayleigh they will go into other shelters and hideouts. No, Vercta, you have to look at the truth. You swapped the reward for a romp with a maid. You are so… you have only shit in your heads.’
‘You are the fool!’ Vercta stood. ‘If you are in such a hurry, go after the Rats yourself along with your heroes! But take heed, because hunting the Rats is not the same as catching a prepubescent girl!’
The Nissir and Trappers began to scream and throw curses at each other. The innkeeper promptly served more beer, grabbing an empty jar from the big man with the forelock, which was aimed at Skomlik. The scuffle soon settled down, the beer refreshed and soothed throats and temperaments.
‘Bring food!’ They cried to the fat innkeeper. ‘Scrambled eggs with sausage, beans, bread and cheese!’
‘And beer!’
‘Why milk those eyes, Skomlik? Today we have money! We caught Kayleigh with his horse, purse, trinkets, sword, saddle and sheepskin, and everything we sold to the dwarves!’
‘And we also sold the red slippers from his wench. And her necklace!’
‘Ho, ho, what better reason to drink! Radem!’
‘Why are you so happy? We have reason to drink, not you. You, with your important prisoner, you can have the snot from her nose and the fleas that bite her! Your prisoner and your spoils, ha, ha!’
‘Son of a bitch!’
‘Ha, ha, sit down, and close that mouth!’
‘Let us drink to peace! We invite you!’
‘Where are those scrambled eggs, innkeeper, the plague devour you! Make haste!’
‘And bring beer!’
Ciri, curled up on the stool, raised her head, finding Kayleigh’s angry green eyes looking at her from under a mattered mane of blond hair. A chill pierced her. Kayleigh’s face, although not ugly, was evil, very evil. Ciri suddenly realised that this boy who was not much older than her was capable of anything.
‘I think the gods have sent you to me,’ whispered the Rat, his green eyes penetrating her. ‘To think, I did not believe in them and they have sent you. Do not look, little idiot. You gotta help me… Give me your ear, plague…’
Ciri shrank even more, lowering her head.
‘Listen’ Kayleigh hissed, flashing his teeth which almost looked like a real rats. ‘In a few moments when the innkeeper wanders by, cry out… Listen to me, dammit…’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He’ll beat me…’
Kayleigh’s lips twitched and Ciri immediately understood that being hit by Skomlik was by no means the worst that could happen. Although Skomlik was big and Kayleigh was skinny and bound, she felt instinctively who she should be more afraid of.
‘If you help me,’ whispered the Rat. ‘I’ll help you. I am not alone. I have friends who will not leave you here… You understand? But when my friends arrive, when everything starts, I cannot be attached to this pole because I’ll be chopped to pieces by these bastards… Listen to me, dammit. I’ll tell you what to do…’
Ciri bowed her head even lower. Her lips trembled.
The Nissir and the Trappers gobbled the scrambled eggs like wild boar. The innkeeper returned from stirring a pot and brought to the table mugs of beer and a loaf of white bread.
‘I’m hungry!’ cried Ciri obediently, paling slightly. The innkeeper stopped, looked at her, then turned to the participants of the banquet.
‘Can I give her some, gentlemen?’
‘No!’ Shouted Skomlik, flushing red and spitting scrambled eggs. ‘Stay away from her, go near her and I’ll break your legs! I forbid it! And you sit quiet, stop this mischief, or you’ll…’
‘Hey, hey, Skomlik, what did she do?’ Vercta interjected, swallowing with effort bread topped with onions. ‘Look at him guys, he eats with someone else’s money, but spares the girl. Innkeeper, give the girl a bowl. I pay and I say who eats and who doesn’t. And who doesn’t like this can just leave on their hairy ass.’
Skomlik flushed even more, but said nothing.
‘Something I just remembered’ added Vercta. ‘The Rat must be fed, so that he doesn’t become anaemic on the road, because then the Baron will have our skins, trust me. Girl feed him. Hey innkeeper! Get some food for them! And you, Skomlik, what bothers you? What is it you dislike?’
‘Keep an eye on her,’ The Trapper nodded towards Ciri ‘because she is a strange bird. If she was an ordinary girl, Nilfgaard would not be after her, the governor promised money…’
‘If she is common or uncommon,’ laughed the big man with the forelock ‘I can show you, just look between her legs! What say you fellows? Do we take her out to the barn for a while?’
‘Do not dare touch her!’ Skomlik growled. ‘I will not allow this!’
‘There he goes! As if we asked permission from him!’
‘This dispute is over my head, I’m to deliver her alive and well! The governor of Amarillo…’
‘Shit on your governor. Did you drink at our expense and now you deny us one fuck? Eh, Skomlik, do not be stingy! Your head will not fall, fear not, nor will your profit be lessened! You will deliver her whole, a girl is not a bladder, she will not explode from a shagging.’
The Nissir burst into mocking laughter. Skomlik’s companions echoed it. Ciri trembled, turned pale and looked up. Kayleigh smiled sarcastically.
‘Do you understand now?’ His lip whispered, slightly smiling. ‘When they get drunk they will take you. Mistreat you. We are in the same boat. Do what I commanded. If I succeed, you also…’
‘The food is ready!’ Shouted the innkeeper, He did not have a Nilfgaardian accent. ‘Come here, lady!’
‘A knife.’ Ciri whispered, taking the bowl from the innkeeper.
‘What?’
‘A knife. Quickly.’
‘That is enough, no more!’ Shouted the innkeeper unnaturally, squinting in the direction of the feasting and adding porridge into a bowl, ‘Please leave.’
‘A knife.’
‘No. I feel for you, daughter but I cannot. I cannot, understand. Go…’
‘From this inn,’ she recited the words of Kayleigh in a trembling voice, ‘no one will come out alive. A knife. Hurry. And when it starts, run away.’
‘Hold the bowl, toad!’ Shouted the inn
keeper, turning so that he hid Ciri. He was pale and his teeth chattered. ‘Closer to the pan!’
She felt the cold touch of a kitchen knife that he slipped from his belt, covering the handle with her tunic.
‘Well done.’ Kayleigh hissed. ‘Sit down so you can shield me. Put the bowl in my lap. In your left hand take the spoon, in the right the knife. Now cut the rope. Not there, asshole, under the knot on the pole. Careful, they are looking.’
Ciri felt dryness in her throat. She bowed her head almost to the bowl.
‘Feed me and eat some too.’ His green eyes stared at her from under half closed lids, hypnotically. ‘Slowly, slowly. Be brave little one. If I get out, so do you…’
True, thought Ciri, while cutting the rope. The knife smelled of iron and onions, the edge was recessed from repeated sharpening. He is right, how do I know where these scoundrels are taking me? How do I know what this Nilfgaardian governor wants from me? Maybe what is waiting for me in Amarillo is the wheel, drills, pliers or red hot irons … I will not be carried away like a lamb to slaughter. Better to take a chance…
With a roar the window flew inwards, together with the frame, from outside stumps that were used for chopping wood landed on the table, causing havoc among the bowls and mugs. Following in the footsteps of the stump, onto the table jumped a blond girl with short cut hair, wearing a red tunic and high shiny boots that reached above the knees. She knelt on the table, waving her sword. One of the Nissir, the slower one, did not have time to get up and back away, he fell back onto his stool, spraying blood from his slashed throat. She dropped lightly from the table, making room for a guy who jumped in through the window who was dressed in an embroidered sheepskin jacket.
‘The Raaaatttsss!’ Shouted Vercta, struggling with his sword which had gotten tangled in his belt.
The fat man with the forelock drew his weapon, jumped towards the girl kneeling on the floor, swung, but the girl while on her knees, deftly parried the blow then dropped to the ground, the boy in the sheepskin jacket, who had jumped down behind him, hit the Nissir with ease in the temple. The fat man hit the ground, like a mattress made of straw.
The Time of Contempt Page 31