by Drae Box
“So what? Royal officials aren’t supposed to give their names out when they meet people on assignments, either,” snapped the Prince of the Cats.
“With all due respect, Prince Pedibastet, it was you that told Aldora who I was when we first met, and you who encouraged her to rescue me from Thane Frey.”
Aldora patted the table with a hand, regaining the boys’ attention before they could launch into a full verbal spat. “Let’s stay focused,” she asked of them. “Please. What about the dead inspector, Raneth?”
“We could string the body up in the town square tonight with a sign on it giving the kill to Lodema. If the assassin is affiliated with her, and if she’s real and trying to stay out of view, he’ll be compelled to take it down. That gives us the chance to capture him alive and question him. We can use our gifts if needed.”
“My gift still isn’t exactly safe to use,” reminded Aldora. This idea sounds dangerous, but the way Pedi reacted to this assassin… “How do we play it safe?”
“If we can’t capture him alive safely, I can use my Common Gift of Ice to kill him if he gets too close to us, or I can create a ball of ice and try to knock him out, though that doesn’t always work. We need him, Aldora,” stressed Raneth, twisting at the torso to view her better. “If we can confirm if he has ties to Lodema, we might get some real, fresh intel on her.”
This still doesn’t feel right. “Why tonight? It’s already dark. We won’t have much time to prepare. Shouldn’t we at least wait until tomorrow night?”
“We shouldn’t waste time and the assassin won’t want to attract attention,” explained Pedibastet. “As far as ideas go, it’s not a great one, but it may give us an idea of where to go to chase this woman down.”
“You’ve never felt my ideas were masterpieces and that’s fine, Prince Pedibastet. Simpler is better – it allows me to think on my feet when we’re taking action. Aldora, it’s up to you,” offered Raneth. “If you think we can pull it off, we’ll do it.”
Why’s it my decision? Aldora tugged her ponytail out of its binding and rebound it tightly, giving herself a chance to think things over a little more.
“What do you think, Inspector?” she asked Faustina.
“I don’t see any reason why you can’t string Vance up in the market.”
Aldora rubbed at her eyes with the pads of her thumbs and exhaled heavily through her nose. Please don’t let me regret this, she thought.
“We’ll do it.”
Aldora and Pedibastet sat on the rooftop of the city’s bank. Raneth sat on the other side of the marketplace below them, on the lower rooftop of the mental asylum. In the central square, Raneth had rigged the body to hang from a makeshift wooden stand in the market. A few people had walked through the marketplace but not many. “What if this doesn’t work?” asked Aldora.
“Then we spent a night out,” said Pedibastet, curling tighter into her lap. “I would not worry if I were you. From all accounts, Lodema is careful not to draw attention to herself, but that sign certainly will.”
“You’re assuming she cares that we’re adding to her story,” said Aldora.
“She will. You aren’t careful about what tales you leave behind to scare people without a bit of planning. This will not serve her interests. Displaying her claim does not fall into her usual methods.”
With her fingers cloaked in Pedibastet’s brown, white and black torso fur, Aldora shivered. The night’s wind hadn’t bothered her when they were on the ground, but now they were on the rooftops it tugged at her brown waist-high jacket. She looked towards Raneth. She could just make him out in the night’s greys and blues, sitting on the corner edge of the roof nearest the marketplace. There was a shape that she didn’t remember being there when she and Pedi first settled onto the rooftop. “Pedi, what’s that behind Raneth?”
“What is what?” asked the Prince of the Cats as he stood up, his front paws pressing into Aldora’s right knee. “That… is a person. I do not think Raneth has heard him.”
If that’s the assassin and he’s after us, we just gave him exactly what he needs. Raneth on his own! Aldora pushed Pedibastet off her lap and stood up. She waved her arms at Raneth then pointed behind him. He turned to look just as the other person collided with him; they fell off the roof and into a fruit stall, the crunch of fruits and the stall breaking ripping loudly into the air. Aldora rushed to the ladder on the side of the building, and Pedibastet leapt down from the main roof onto a lower section. Please be OK, begged Aldora as she pedalled quickly down the steps. With the rest of the city sleeping, she could hear Raneth’s soft grunts as he pushed against the attacker, accompanied by other unfamiliar grunts. Her feet slapped onto the ground and she turned, almost falling over Pedibastet where he stood waiting. She ran around the side of the bank towards the stall, pulling the Dagger from its sheath. She aimed the blade towards them but wavered as Raneth rolled on top. He punched the man in grey, then punched again as the attacker grabbed the front of his collar and tugged. Raneth coughed and jabbed a finger into the attacker’s eye.
“Stab him!” ordered Pedibastet, looking up at Aldora expectantly.
Aldora watched the fight. The attacker rolled on top, headbutting Raneth before pulling an arm back and smashing his fist towards him. The royal official turned away and the fist connected with his cheekbone.
“Do it!” snapped Pedibastet. “Before the guy beats his brains out!”
The Dagger Bearer stepped closer, gripping the Dagger. She sliced the blade into the back of Raneth’s attacker and wrenched it free.
Raneth pushed the man off him, struck him in the face with a foot and stood up.
“You OK?” asked Aldora.
Raneth nodded. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly as some spoiled watermelon dripped down his neck.
He prowled nearer to the attacker, who was cloaked in a loose-fitting grey garment, and then he darted back as the wheezing man tried to stab his foot. He kicked the small blade out of the man’s grip and squatted next to him. “Do you know where the Shotput of Power is, or where we can find Lodema?” he asked.
The attacker pulled down his hood and tugged a black piece of cloth with eye slits from his face. Aldora frowned at the man’s toothy grimace then edged back behind Raneth as the man spat blood at them. Peering at him from around her partner, Aldora observed the blood dribbling down the man’s dark skin from his mouth.
“You’re on a list,” he uttered, before coughing blood at them, smiling. His accent warned that he was an Eastern Barbarian, just as the boys had expected.
“Who put them on it?” asked Pedibastet.
“Nobody you know.”
“Lodema or the inspectors?” pressed the cat.
The Eastern Barbarian rested a hand on his chest as he gasped in a breath, his exhale spitting out as several coughs. “Not the inspectors.”
“I can’t let him suffer,” uttered Raneth, plucking a small blade from his left boot.
“You will wait!” commanded Pedibastet, pressing his full weight against Raneth’s leg. “Barbarian, do you work for Lodema?”
“No, that’s enough,” said Raneth. He slid the blade into the attacker’s heart and pulled it free swiftly. He wiped the blade against his sleeve before he returned it to its place at his belt. The Eastern Barbarian’s torso touched the ground softly as his last rattling exhale bubbled from his throat.
“What did you do that for?” complained Pedibastet, “We could have questioned him for much longer!”
“I was taught to kill cleanly,” stated Raneth firmly. “Aldora hasn’t mastered that yet, so I helped her.”
“Stupid humans,” hissed Pedibastet, inspecting the dead inspector they had strung up. “And what do we do with that now?”
“Leave it up,” said Raneth. Aldora reached for Raneth’s head and picked out some dark seeds from his hair. “Faustina can take care of it, and leaving it up could bring more information our way, maybe.” Raneth knelt on one knee beside the dead assass
in and started to search the body.
Aldora squatted at his side, watching his calloused hands spread out the grey garment around the body and check it for pockets; then his hands went to the bottom of the cloak where a reddish sand speckled the mud-stained hem. “What is it?”
“This red sand,” murmured Raneth, plucking some from the cloak and holding it closer to his eyes to inspect it. “I’m pretty sure it’s an import in Newer. In 2002, when I was here last, Chaol City – the capital – had issues with pickpockets, so red sand was mixed into the pathways there. It was supposed to help identify the pickpockets that sold their stolen goods outside of the city, but anyone walking through it got some on their clothes.”
Aldora glanced down at the mess of the assassin’s cloak. “So this man has been in the capital recently?”
“Yeah.” Raneth looked up at Aldora. “It may be worth going to the capital. I might even have a few old contacts there who could tell us more about Lodema.” Raneth rubbed the sand and dried mud specks off his hand and rested his forearm against his knee. “It’s a weak lead, but every lead we’ve had so far has been. She could be in the capital to hide from us – a Giften would know the Dagger Bearer and the royal official captain are a good team. The capital’s the most dangerous city in Newer and the biggest.”
“We’re one of the best teams,” insisted Aldora, smiling at Raneth. “So when do we leave for the capital?”
“At first light.”
Pedibastet strolled in the direction of the royal official safehouse. “Let us merely hope his implication that he was working for Lodema wasn’t putting you onto the wrong trail, because no criminal’s ever done that before,” he grumbled.
“We’d better let Pedi get some decent sleep,” whispered Aldora to Raneth. “He’s been quite grumpy today.”
“I heard that!”
Chapter Thirteen
Pedibastet
Sitting on Aldora’s lap, Pedibastet tried to ignore the air tugging and pulling at his fur, yanking it every way but the right way. I hate flying on Raneth’s griffin-self, but at least it’s preferable to riding his father’s dragon scales. He hunkered lower against Aldora, pressing the bottom of his chin to the Dagger Bearer’s leg and his cheek closer to the white neck feathers of Raneth’s griffin-self. At least on Raneth’s gift-form, I’m always warm.
Aldora rested her head against Raneth’s warm neck, stealing the dawn’s light from Pedibastet’s view. Moments later the rumble of a purr came from within the griffin’s chest. Oh, by the Goddess! The Prince of the Cats sunk his claws into Aldora’s thighs, making his friend flinch.
“Sorry, but he’s flying roughly,” she uttered. “I don’t want him to drop us.”
The griffin swept side to side, up and down, finding air thermals he could use to try and make the flight smoother and less taxing on him. But if the straining beats of his wings were anything to go by, there weren’t many – the wind was eradicating them. Another night and day of this to go yet, thought Pedibastet. Cray had better spoil me rotten when I come home.
They landed outside the capital city halfway through the next day, near one of the ways into the settlement but not close enough to be seen by those inside it. Raneth reformed as Pedibastet and Aldora waited, then he held a hand out to the Dagger Bearer. She claimed it, giving him a smile.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“Bit tired, but it’s not the first time I’ve fought with the wind,” admitted Raneth. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “We’ll need our passports and border crossing passes to get in.”
He turned the pack on his back around to his front and lifted the top flap, revealing the white griffin feathers that had been stitched into its material. He shoved a hand inside, pulling free all four of the documents. He handed Aldora hers.
“Thanks,” she said, pocketing it. “Anything else I should know?”
“It’s best not to talk at the gates if you can help it. Slows entry and makes it much more likely we won’t get in.”
They walked towards the main gates of the Newer city, Pedibastet strolling beside Aldora. As the people in front of the entrance came into view, Pedibastet cast his eyes onto the large double gate that stood open and towered over everybody. Taller than any gates of note in Giften, the two gate halves were made of solid metal, and were patched all over with fresh plates of metal. Pedibastet’s green eyes focused on a man hanging from the left side of the gate in a rope harness, adding a new piece of metal to the door.
“What on Giften soil is that man doing, Raneth, dangling on that rope thing?”
“It’s cheaper for them to risk having someone fall to their death putting a new plate on than it is to try and replace the whole gate when bits of it get rusty. As soon as they see any rust, they send someone up there as quickly as they can to reduce the damage,” stated Raneth.
“Is it from the 1400s?” asked Aldora curiously. Back then, the Common Kingdoms had suffered at the hands of the Barbaric East and the Northern Barbaric Island, so a lot of investment had been put into defensive items.
A good question, decided Pedibastet, giving a small purr of approval.
“Not that I’m aware,” admitted Raneth. “I think it’s done to intimidate visitors.”
“Well, it’s definitely impressive,” stated Aldora. “Do they ever close?”
“Never when I’ve been here,” said Raneth. “I don’t know.”
They joined the queue of people waiting to enter. As Aldora gripped Raneth’s calloused hand in hers, Pedibastet watched the ten Newers in grey army uniforms working the gate; an eleventh sat slightly apart from them, wearing a grey jacket with straight shoulders and white pauldrons. The jacket was buttoned up at his torso with large round metal buttons, and either side of the buttons was more of the white material that dangled from the pauldrons, criss-crossing up to his stiff grey collar. The commanding officer. This could be troublesome. Pedibastet looked up at Raneth, noticing that the royal official was looking towards the officer too. At least he’s still able to focus after flying us here. Raneth had better have a plan if we’re barred entry. Regina’s protectiveness should help us if not.
Raneth nodded at the officer as Aldora glanced at him. “He’s a gate captain during peacetime.”
“What does he do when there’s fighting?” asked Aldora.
Raneth was quiet as they watched a couple get turned away, the woman jabbing a finger into her partner’s chest and saying heated words.
“I think they’re a cross between optios and standard bearers,” he said.
Aldora frowned up at him.
“A standard bearer is someone who carries or wears a century’s symbol or flag. An optio is second in command of that unit type, which usually has eighty men on foot. It’s the main unit type the Giften army has.”
“What’s your rank in the army? As a royal official, you must have more experience than a lot of our soldiers,” said Aldora.
Why’s Raneth looking at me? wondered Pedibastet. Ah. He must not be sure if he’s allowed to tell the Dagger Bearer, considering their ranks.
“He’s a centurion,” stated Pedibastet. “Raneth’s position in his unit has been earned the hard way, in scuffles and whatnot.”
“You’ve actually fought in army action?” uttered Aldora as the queue moved forwards.
“Yeah, I’ve fought with my legion, but the things I was involved in have a silencing act around them, so I can’t say anything else without being declared a traitor, getting beheaded and having the kingdom take everything in my name.”
“That’s stupid,” grumbled Aldora.
Raneth hummed an agreement.
Why is this queue moving so slowly? thought Pedibastet. Looking past the legs standing between his human companions and the gate, the Prince of the Cats observed the Newers protecting the city entrance. Oh. They’re just slow. I wonder if there’s a way to speed things up? Raneth should have just flown in. We might have avoided being spotted. Somehow.
&nbs
p; “Any magic items on you?” asked one of the Newers when the three Giftens eventually reached the gates.
Finally!
“Yeah, one,” admitted Raneth before Aldora could.
Dumb move, Raneth. Pedibastet eyed Raneth, the weight of his attention on the Bayre Talisman at his neck. He noticed that Aldora was looking too. Ah, I see Aldora’s not too impressed that Raneth’s suddenly forgotten to count. Good. That makes two of us. He should have forgotten all his numbers. Telling the Newers a half-truth! This is almost as bad as us staying at that filthy brothel!
“The Dagger of Protection,” added Raneth, glancing at Aldora. He lifted a questioning brow at her.
Aldora glanced at Prince Pedibastet. If I say anything, I’ll draw attention. Stop looking at me like you expect an answer, Aldora.
“What gifts do you have?” asked the Newer.
Aldora held out her passport and border crossing pass. “Here. It’s all in those.”
The Newer took the paperwork and inspected it carefully. “Your gift with your voice – it says here it can disorient through pitch or volume?”
Aldora nodded. “What’s your question, sir?”
“Do you plan to use it here?”
Like she’d admit that to a Newer! These Newers are too stupid to start any problems. Deciding Raneth and Aldora would be safe for the moment, Pedibastet stuck his left back leg into the air and started cleaning his fur.
“Only if I need to defend myself,” promised Aldora.
The man nodded then held out a hand to Raneth. Wordlessly, the royal official gave him his passport and border crossing pass.
“Royal official!” yelled the Newer, turning and addressing the gate captain.
“Bugger,” muttered Raneth, easing a step back from the Newer and resting his hand on the grip of his sword.
Can’t ever get a decent amount of time to tend to my fur. Pedibastet stood up, tail flicking irritably as he observed the Newers. He watched as the captain stood up and drew close. If you’ve got any funny ideas, he thought, glaring at the man in silent warning, I’ll attack your leg quicker than a hungry fox biting a trapped chicken.