Steelhaven 02 - The Shattered Crown

by Richard Ford

  She gripped her tray all the tighter and walked towards the guards bold as brass. When she got close she put a big smile on her face. Rag knew she wasn’t the prettiest thing a bloke might have ever seen, but there was a lot could be bought with a smile. Make yourself look harmless and it disarms people. If you’re no threat they’re likely to treat you a lot nicer. Well, that was the plan, anyway.

  She’d find out soon enough if it worked.

  Rag stopped in front of the two guards. They stood like statues, their swords gripped at their chests, blades pointing upwards. For a few moments she just looked at them, waiting. Neither one made a move.

  With a flourish Rag pulled the muslin cloth aside, revealing the tray of goodies beneath. She had an assortment of treats – potted eel from up the Storway, fresh scallops cooked in the shell with a pastry top, smoked fish rolled in egg and breadcrumbs, little meat pies with dried fruit on. Friedrik’s cook had spent almost a whole day preparing the lot. He was a miserable bastard at the best of times, but Rag had to admit he could put together a decent spread when he wanted to.

  She let the tray just sit there for a few seconds, allowing the smell to waft upwards. One of the knights looked briefly towards his companion. Then the other one leaned his sword up against the entryway to the barracks and removed his helmet.

  If Rag expected him to start filling his face though, she was sorely mistaken.

  ‘Where did you get this lot from then?’ he asked.

  She hadn’t been expecting questions.

  ‘Erm … my uncle makes ’em. Gets his fish fresh every day.’

  ‘There’s a food shortage in the city and you’re wandering around with a tray handing it out for free? You’re expecting us to believe that are you?’

  This wasn’t going at all well. Maybe they hadn’t thought this through properly. Maybe she should have come with wine instead.

  ‘Came direct from the palace kitchens,’ she answered. ‘Just what we had left over.’

  ‘Palace kitchens? Who in the palace ki—’

  ‘Oh, leave it out will you,’ said the second Sentinel, removing his helmet. ‘These smell bloody lovely.’

  He placed his sword down and reached for one of the scallops. Rag moved the tray away from his grasping hand.

  ‘Just one each,’ she said. ‘These have to go around the rest of the barracks.’

  She let him take what he wanted. The second Sentinel eyed her suspiciously, but only long enough for her to flash him another smile before he too gave in to the temptation and took one of the pies. As they both dug in, she wandered past them, holding the tray high, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Through the entrance was a courtyard, surrounded by barrack rooms. Around twenty blokes stood in the middle of the square, stripped to the waist, practising with their swords. Rag watched for a bit, spellbound. She’d never seen soldiers act with that much control before, their swords moving as one, each cut and thrust timed to perfection. She was more used to dirty brawls on the streets, biting ears and pulling hair and gouging eyes. Best she’d seen someone use a blade was years ago down near the Rafts, and that had happened so quick it was over before it began. This was like watching a dance, only with less music and more danger.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ said a voice to her left, and she snapped her head round to see a tall fella looking down at her. He wasn’t bad looking, or he wouldn’t have been if he weren’t frowning. He was stripped to the waist like the rest but he had the pelt of some great white beast draped across his shoulders. His bare chest was visible, all scarred and muscled, and Rag had a bit of trouble dragging her eyes away from it.

  ‘Been sent with some food,’ she said, holding up the tray.

  He kept his eyes locked on hers, but reached out with a hand and took some potted eel. Held in that gaze she almost dropped the tray and made a run for it, but without another word he just turned and walked away.

  Rag let out a sigh, before moving around the edge of the courtyard. There were more warriors watching from the sides and she walked over to them.

  ‘Got some goodies from the kitchens here,’ she said, trying to sound confident, like there was nothing out of the ordinary about a girl wandering the barracks with a tray of food. The group of warriors glanced across at her, none of them saying a word in reply. One reached out and took a pie, but the others never made a move.

  Now she was here, Rag started to wonder how in the hells she was going to find this Ryder. How was she supposed to start that conversation?

  Oi, lads! Anyone know Merrick Ryder?

  Why do you ask?

  Erm … because he’s pissed someone off in the Guild and I’ve been sent to bloody find him.

  Yes, that was sure to grab her some attention, and probably a sharp knife in the ribs.

  Rag was going to have to come up with something, and fast. She’d thought this might be one of those times when being ignored was a good thing, but that wasn’t turning out too well. Maybe it was time to be the centre of attention.

  The soldiers at the middle of the courtyard had finished swinging their swords, and another batch of around twenty were readying themselves to take up their positions. Rag walked out onto the courtyard, right in front of them, holding out her tray for all to see.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said with a grin. ‘Get it while it’s going. I haven’t got all day.’

  Some of the warriors looked at one another in confusion. Others tried ignoring her, but Rag was determined to have none of that.

  ‘What’s the matter? You’re not telling me you ain’t hungry, all that bloody sword swinging. You must be bloomin’ famished.’

  This raised a smile from a couple of them, and one even strolled over, sword in hand, and plucked a pie from her tray.

  ‘Any good?’ she asked loudly as he took a bite.

  He just nodded his reply, too busy chewing to talk.

  Another of them came forward, and before he could take something from her, Rag looked him up and down and gave a whistle.

  ‘Ooh, you’re an ’andsome fella, and no mistake,’ she called out, trying to sound like one of the street girls from Dockside. ‘I could take quite a fancy to a big strong bloke like you. What’s your name then?’

  Well, it seemed as good a place as any to start. Friedrik had told her what Merrick looked like – average height, brown hair, handsome – and this bloke seemed to fit the bill. Problem was, so did half the other lads in here.

  ‘My name’s Hennar,’ said the warrior, plucking a piece of fish from the tray. ‘And you don’t look old enough to have had your blood yet. So take as much of a fancy as you like, but I’m not interested, girl.’

  With a shake of his head he popped the food in his mouth, then walked away.

  That didn’t really work out to plan, now did it?

  ‘Hey lads, these are good,’ said the soldier who had taken a pie. Next thing, Rag was swamped by sweaty half-dressed warriors, all reaching out to take a piece of food. In no time she was left holding an empty tray.

  That was it; she was left with nothing, standing in the middle of the courtyard. As the soldiers began to line up to begin their training she slunk to the edge of the square. No one was watching now; it was as if she were invisible again.

  Stick to what you know, Rag. Don’t bring attention to yourself.

  Gently she placed the tray down so it leaned against the wall, then she moved towards the nearest door of the barrack building. She had no idea where she was going, or what she was looking for, but there just might be some clue somewhere – she might overhear some crumb of gossip that pointed her in the right direction. By all accounts this Merrick Ryder was a big-mouthed bastard, so surely it wouldn’t take long before she heard word of him.

  Inside was a long empty room lined with uncomfortable-looking wooden pallets. From the look of them she’d have got a better night’s sleep on the roof of the Bull, but thankfully those days were well behind her.

  Sh
e crept further into the room, checking the bunks for any names that might have been written on them. In the past weeks Rag had done her best to learn her letters, Friedrik had insisted on it. She’d already had some schooling back in the old days before her mother had abandoned her for some smooth talker from Silverwall, and it hadn’t taken much to pick it up again. Looking around though, there was not so much as a pair of initials written on anything.

  As she made her way through the building Rag began to feel that old fear creeping up on her. What if someone came? What if she got caught creeping around in a soldiers’ barracks? She’d have some questions to answer then all right.

  Don’t be soft, Rag. Concentrate on your business. Whatever this lot might do to you for snooping will be a sight nicer than what Bastian and Palien will do if you fuck this up.

  Rag balled her fists. She’d been through worse than this. Weren’t nothing to be done about it, so best get on.

  The door at the end of the room led into a little chamber with desk and parchment and ledgers. Her heart beat a bit faster as she moved forward with a quick glance to the little round window that let in the only light. No one could see in, and outside she could just hear the sound of soldiers running through their swordplay, swinging and shouting as they went about fighting their invisible enemies.

  She turned her attention back to the desk. Opening the ledger she stared at the neat script and silently she thanked Friedrik for those long boring days of teaching her what the letters meant.

  In the first ledger was a list of supplies going back months – food and weapons and the like. Rag moved on to the next book; a diary of some sort. She looked back through the entries, seeing it was a list of the comings and goings, realising that the lads outside swinging their swords like there was no tomorrow were most likely the Wyvern Guard. Whoever this diary belonged to was definitely pleased at their coming, writing about how grateful he was that the city was practically saved. Whoever the diary belonged to was also particularly happy about the return of his old friend Tannick …

  … Ryder!

  Rag breathed out, thinking for a second she’d found her man, but then it weren’t Tannick she was after, it was Merrick. Perhaps they were related. Brothers maybe?

  Frantically she flicked back through the pages, seeing if there was any more word of him, but she hadn’t gone back more than a couple of pages before something moved behind her.

  She stopped, placing the book down and slowly turning at the noise. There, standing in the doorway, was a woman. She was big, must have stood a good six feet tall, her shoulders broad as a bloke’s, the look on her face as grim as any fighting man Rag had ever seen.

  ‘Looking for something?’ said the woman, her voice deep and hard, like no woman Rag had ever heard before.

  As a matter of fact I am. A fellow named Merrick Ryder. Have you seen him?

  ‘I’m … er … lost,’ she said, and realised how fucking pathetic that must have sounded.

  ‘Really?’ She said it like a question, but Rag could tell by the look on her face she already knew the answer.

  Rag was floundering. ‘Yeah, can you show me the way out? I need to be off. My uncle’s waiting for me.’

  The woman stared intently like she was hunting for the lies and could see them plain as the nose on Rag’s face.

  Then they stood there, just looking at one another. All at once Rag’s nerve gave out. She was trapped in here, weren’t nowhere to go, nor nothing to say that would see her free of this.

  A tear welled in one eye then began to trickle down her cheek. If she’d have planned it – if she’d have wanted to cry, put on an act – she’d never have managed, but this was real. She was in the shit and she knew it.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here,’ the woman said looking into her like only the truth would do.

  Rag couldn’t see that she had much choice about it.

  SIXTEEN

  The girl was lying to her. During Kaira’s many years teaching young acolytes in the Temple of Autumn there had been times when girls in her care had tried to fool her, to make excuses, to rely on their feigned naivety. Kaira could see deception now in the eyes of this girl.

  Young and simply dressed, she had looked innocuous enough handing out food in the courtyard. But Kaira had watched as she crept into the barrack room, had followed her as she entered Captain Garret’s study chamber. This was no lost waif. There was something going on here and Kaira wanted to know what.

  ‘Ain’t got nothing to tell,’ insisted the girl, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear. Was it a real tear or part of an act? Kaira guessed the latter.

  ‘Maybe I should just call the Greencoats. Have them deal with you.’

  ‘No,’ said the girl, too quickly. Clearly she’d had run-ins with the Greencoats before.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘There’s … just no need. I have to go, my uncle will be waiting.’ She seemed desperate, like a cornered animal. Her eyes darted to left and right but there was nowhere to escape.

  ‘Who is your uncle?’

  The girl paused. Thinking fast, devising her story. Kaira let her think a while.

  ‘He … he works in the palace.’

  ‘Where in the palace?’

  ‘Kitchens.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘F … Henrik,’ she said, mouth twitching at her error.

  ‘F-Henrik,’ repeated Kaira, finding herself enjoying this a little too much. ‘Come on then. We’ll go and see him together.’

  ‘No.’

  The girl stood rooted to the spot, another tear starting down her face. As much as she was putting on a brave show, she obviously knew the game was up. The girl was scared, exposed – Kaira felt a sudden pang of guilt that she was enjoying watching her squirm.

  ‘Sit down.’ Kaira gestured to a chair beside Garret’s desk.

  The girl obeyed, watching Kaira warily, as though she might attack at any minute. Kaira remained standing, thus reinforcing who was in control here.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Kaira asked.

  Another pause.

  ‘Rag,’ the girl replied.

  ‘Rag?’

  ‘Yeah, Rag. Am I lying about that too?’

  Kaira guessed from the girl’s sudden anger that she wasn’t.

  ‘All right, Rag. My name is Kaira. And I know you’re not lost, so you may as well tell me exactly what you’re doing here.’

  Rag looked up defiantly, angry that Kaira had doubted her when she was actually telling the truth.

  ‘I don’t have to tell you shit,’ she said, sloughing off her pretence of innocence. ‘Go get the fucking Greencoats. I don’t care. Nothing they’ll do to me will be worse than …’

  Rag looked as though she had said too much, said something she didn’t want Kaira to know. Was this girl in trouble? It roused Kaira’s natural instinct to protect the weak, but she had to be careful – the girl could well be stronger than she made out. If Rag really was in trouble it was Kaira’s duty to help, but the last thing she wanted was to be made a fool of.

  ‘Worse than what?’ Kaira said gently. ‘Has someone threatened you? Are you in danger?’

  That brought a wry smile to Rag’s face. ‘What do you care? I don’t know you. You don’t know me. Let’s just keep it that way.’

  ‘If someone wants to harm you, I can protect you from them.’

  Rag gave a little laugh. ‘Lady, you can’t do shit. No one can protect me from them. And who says I want protecting anyway?’

  Kaira looked into those fierce little eyes. Despite her protestations it was obvious Rag really did want someone to protect her. Behind that brave face there was a sadness, a defencelessness.

  ‘We all need protecting, in our own way, even if some of us can’t admit it.’

  Rag just shook her head and stared down at her lap.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?’ Kaira asked gently. Rag shook her head but the tears were coming
now. Kaira tried giving her a smile. ‘You can trust me. You can tell me the truth. I promise no harm will come to you.’

  ‘I can trust you?’ said Rag. ‘How do you know you can trust me?’

  Good question.

  ‘Let’s say that, on occasion, I like to put faith in people. I let them try to make the right choices.’ Her memory flashed back to that day weeks before, when Merrick had taken up his sword and freed a warehouse full of slaves. He had done that because Kaira’s faith in him had led him to make the right choice.

  ‘How has that worked out for you so far?’ Rag asked.

  Kaira shrugged. ‘Let’s just say I’ve had mixed results.’

  Rag was frowning, as though weighing up whether Kaira could be worth confiding in. Eventually she made her decision.

  ‘I’m just here to find someone,’ she said. ‘That’s all. Nothing serious or nothing.’

  ‘Who were you sent to find?’

  Rag paused, as though holding onto her one final bit of information, as though giving up this last thing would leave her completely vulnerable.

  ‘Bloke by the name of Merrick Ryder,’ she said with a sigh.

  Kaira stopped breathing.

  There could only be one reason Rag was here for Merrick. This girl had been sent by the Guild, most likely Palien himself, eager for his revenge. But Kaira had to be sure.

  ‘Tell me, Rag. Who sent you to find this man?’

  ‘Just …’ Rag couldn’t answer. She had already said too much.

  ‘I thought we were going to trust one another. I promised no harm would come to you, and I will keep that promise. In return you have to tell me who sent you.’

  ‘It was … Look, it’s nobody you’d know. Nobody important.’

  ‘Someone asked you to break into the barracks of the Sentinels and they’re not important? They sound important to me, Rag.’

  ‘It was a man I know.’

  ‘His name?’

  Rag shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, opened her mouth to speak then thought better of it, shook her head, then sighed.