by Lloyd, Tom
‘What about the Bales campaign?’ Emin asked, pouring them both some more wine. It was weak stuff as they had a long night ahead of them, but slipping down very nicely in the warm corner they’d found.
‘Aye, went on that one too. More’ve the same really; Baron Heshen never thought tactics were worth the effort.’
‘I’m amazed you managed to survive any battle,’ Emin laughed, ‘with incompetents in charge at every step.’
Pirn nodded and scratched his whiskery cheeks reflectively. ‘Guess you tried not to think too hard about that, you take their coin, you do what they say. Anyone who suggests a nobleman couldn’t find his arse with both hands . . . well, most ain’t like yourself, Master Emin. We’d have been strung up quick as you like, so no one dared say such a thing.’
‘What a fucking waste – Heshen only cared about having his way with every virgin he could find, so I’ve heard. His father before him liked to fight and liked to conquer, but didn’t care much for much that didn’t involve killing, and our present lord . . .’ At Pirn’s expression Emin tailed off, but was unable to stop himself from grinning.
‘Now Master Emin, I know you like a joke but I’m a loyal man o’ Narkang.’
‘Calm yourself, Pirn, I’ve no complaints about the duke – indeed, the way he manages his court is masterly, you’ll see no defter a touch or tease in the best-reputed houses throughout the Land.’
Pirn frowned, but knew he couldn’t say any more. A soldier of Narkang and firm in his view of the Land, Pirn’s mood had soured at Emin’s description – even more so for the strains of truth it contained. The Duke of Narkang was a man adept at flirting between factions and keeping them all breathlessly guessing which way he’d go. With powerful neighbours on three sides, political acumen was a requirement for any ruler of the Freeport of Narkang. For more than one reason was Narkang described as a whore of a city.
‘No, what I find saddening is the lack of ambition from most rulers,’ Emin continued after a pause. ‘The years of gathering wealth and power, but not bothering to do something with it. I can’t see how I’d be quite so attached to an heir to devote my life to consolidating his position.’
‘You’re young – and unmarried – Master Emin. Things look different on the other side of a marriage bed.’
Emin shrugged. ‘I suppose, but why not leave something rather more lasting? I could name you a dozen rulers who fought for decades just to attain and keep power – but it’s not as if you can take it with you. The priests of Death are rather specific on that detail.’
‘Power’s no small thing, sir, an’ just keeping hold o’ it’s no small task. There’s always someone hungry for more. If I might speak frankly?’ Pirn said.
Emin nodded, one eye still on the dark environs of the library.
‘Well, it’s yer father’s household, but there’s not much restricted to his heir. If you’d grown dependent on the goodwill o’ others, you might see it different.’
Without warning, Emin sat bolt upright, one hand reaching for his sword as he stared out the window.
‘What is it?’
The young nobleman didn’t respond immediately, frozen on the point of rushing for the door. ‘Someone loitering by the library gate,’ he said eventually. ‘Not doing much, just waiting like a thief’s lookout.’
In the darkness it was hard to see any more than the fact there was someone there. That there was a man was all Emin could make out, one in a coat and hat as would be expected on a cold winter’s night. There was precious little light in the street, but Emin had paid the gateman of the house opposite to keep a lamp burning at his door and it shone enough to pick out shapes and movement across the street.
The man kept still, not pacing or swinging his arms to keep warm – he just lounged against the side of the gate with his back to the courtyard wall. Emin blinked and in the same moment thought he caught sight of some small movement – some dark shape flitting around the corner to the shadowed gate itself – but whatever it was, the gate remained closed.
‘What happened?’ Pirn asked, seeing Emin blink hard, then frown and squint harder.
‘I don’t know,’ Emin said, ‘thought I saw movement, a second man but . . .’
Pirn eased himself around their table so he could look out too. The veteran’s face hardened and his hand went to the dagger on his belt. ‘Too close to be innocently standing out in the street at night.’
‘Unless he’s a decoy,’ Emin pointed out, ‘looking to draw out anyone keeping watch over the library.’
‘Master Emin, this ain’t the duke’s treasury.’
Emin grinned briefly. ‘A little too devious for my own good perhaps.’ He rose and dropped a few coins on their table beside the half-drunk wine. ‘Let’s go have a talk with our friend out there, see what he’s up to.’
The pair headed out into the chilly night and started down the opposite side of the street. Before they were out the door Emin was talking inconsequentially about some fictitious racehorse, knowing any conversation or lack thereof would carry over the crisp night air. It served no purpose however. Almost as soon as they had turned in his direction, the stranger started off from his post – not hurrying, but moving briskly away.
Emin gave Pirn a look. As one, they broke into a run and their quarry scampered around the corner of the adjoining building. In a heartbeat he was out of sight so Emin sprinted away from his companion and ran with all speed to the corner. When he got there the side-street was empty so he pelted on down it, keeping to the centre of the street to avoid anyone looming suddenly from the shadows.
At the next corner he checked around, but saw no one and he realised the futility of pursuit. There were a dozen hiding places for a man in the dark, some already behind him. Off to his left was the high rear wall of the library’s grounds, difficult to scale and precious little within, but as likely as any other possibility.
Behind him, Pirn’s heavy footfalls heralded the retainer’s arrival, puffing hard at the unwelcome exercise. Pirn was fit and strong for his age, but anyone with that much white in their hair knew their running days were behind them. His cheeks were flushed and chest heaving for breath as he also inspected the street.
‘He might have scaled the wall,’ Emin said, pointing.
‘Bloody acrobat if he did,’ Pirn replied after a pause. ‘I’m not getting over that.’
‘If he did, he’s not getting into the library easily,’ Emin decided, ‘so there’s little point in following on the off-chance. Better to be near the front, Gennay will hear anyone breaking in – it’s not impossible but every window’s bolted so they won’t be doing it quietly.’
With one last look around the seemingly empty street, Emin and Pirn retraced their steps to the courtyard gate. As the echoes of their footsteps were swallowed by the night, Emin noticed just how quiet it was, this far past nightfall. But for the few lights, he could have easily imagined them alone in a deserted city.
What sounds of life there were from other parts of the city were faint and unidentifiable. The strange sense of isolation made Emin feel unaccountably vulnerable in the patch of light he’d arranged to cover that section of street, as though he could sense invisible, hostile eyes watching him from the darkness.
‘What was he doing here?’ he wondered, trying to shake off his nervous mood.
He scanned the stonework of the wall, for a moment expecting to see crosses and circles scratched somewhere there. Finding nothing he entered the courtyard and looked around, taking a while to see into the lines of shadow along the far wall but eventually giving up his search.
‘If he was acting lookout, then lookout for whom?’
‘Probably just scouting; checking the coast’s clear.’
Emin wasn’t convinced. ‘This is no housebreaker,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing valuable enough to justify these efforts, so what’s the purpose in all this?’
He stared up at the library as though expecting an answer from the building itsel
f, but it remained quiet and dark aside from the trace of light from Gennay’s lamp that shone through the library’s high windows. Then an answer came and startled him into movement – a woman’s scream tearing through the hush of night.
Emin ran for the door as Gennay cried out again, Pirn close on his shoulder. The door wouldn’t budge, it was stuck fast and all Emin could do was smash his shoulder uselessly into the thick oak.
‘Gennay!’ he yelled at the top of his voice.
From within came a crash of something falling, then more screams. He redoubled his effort, battering at the solid wood while his sister shrieked in mortal terror within.
‘Mistress Gennay!’ Pirn bellowed in his ear, more than willing to lend his own shoulder to the work but still it had no effect. ‘There must be another way to get in!’
Emin stopped and frantically ran his hands over his clothing. ‘Metal, what metal do you have on you?’ He grabbed Pirn and shook the larger man like a rat. ‘Metal! A brooch, anything!’
He ripped his cloak from his shoulders, bursting the brooch pin that fastened it and fumbling a moment with the remains. Pirn watched him with astonishment, but then Gennay screamed again and he was searching his clothes too.
‘Ah damn,’ Emin shouted suddenly, drawing his sword and holding it up. It was a slim weapon, made for speed on a city street rather than the battlefield, with thin curved metal bars forming the guard. Using a knife he scraped frantically at the leather grip until he’d stripped a piece away, then worked away at it until he could draw out a pin from the handle itself.
That done, he worked at the guard until it loosened and he could slide it over the blade, discarding everything but the guard. He dropped it on the ground and pushed it into the corner between wall and flagstones, stamping at an angle until it was bent out of shape. With the damaged guard and the brooch pin Emin set to work on the lock, working at it frantically while sounds of breaking glass came from within.
‘Old man over in Arwood taught me,’ he called as he worked, in answer to Pirn’s unspoken question. ‘Only learned it to sneak out of the house.’
It seemed to take an eternity, but at last Emin caught the pin he was looking for and felt something give way in the lock. He turned it all the way and jumped to his feet, pausing only to grab the stripped down sword he’d discarded. Inside, the library was a chaotic mess of books and dancing flames.
Emin looked around in desperation, but couldn’t see his sister – the desk she’d set up to watch the reading room was overturned and the room itself aflame. The bookcases on either side of it were similarly burning, broken lamps spilling oil at their base.
‘My cloak,’ he yelled to Pirn who ran to fetch it, but before the man returned Gennay screamed again and Emin saw movement up on the mezzanine.
He ran to the stairs without waiting, keeping well clear of the burning bookcases that had each been set alight. Halfway up the stairs he faltered, not because of the flames that Pirn was already attacking, but at the sight of his sister. Gennay stood past her desk, turning wildly, one way then the next with her burning coat wrapped around a broken stick of wood.
‘The shadows,’ she shrieked, whether to him or the Land at large he couldn’t tell, ‘it’s in the shadows!’
Emin looked around as he advanced up the stairs. He couldn’t see anything unusual except for the speed with which the flames were spreading around the library. Downstairs, Pirn was beating furiously at the flames with Emin’s cloak but seemed to be getting nowhere and already the haze of smoke filled the room.
‘Gennay, come here!’
His sister whirled around, makeshift-torch held out like a weapon. ‘I can’t,’ she sobbed, ‘the shadows are out there!’
Emin hurried forward but Gennay took fright at his approach and backed off towards the straw-packed boxes of books she’d just set alight.
‘Gennay!’ he yelled, ‘we have to get out! The shadows can’t hurt you; I won’t let them hurt you! But we need to get out of the library.’
She shook her head, moving constantly as though not daring to keep her attention fixed on him. Torch held out before her, Gennay turned left then right, fearfully looking all around as though there was a viper in the room.
‘Gennay, stop!’ Emin shouted as she set fire to the papers on her desk, but before he could do anything more she screamed again and lunged for him.
‘No! I won’t let you hurt him!’
Emin staggered back, slipping down a few steps before recovering his balance. His sister, oblivious, attacked the chimney’s flank with a mad fury, beating at the stone with her torch until the coat dislodged entirely and dropped in a burning heap on the step.
At the loss of her weapon against the shadows, Gennay seemed to deflate. She fell to her knees, weeping with uncontrollable terror. Emin tried to pull her up but she was a dead weight in his arms and before he had dragged her down a few steps there came a sound that chilled his heart. The door to the library crashed shut.
He looked up to see Pirn run at the door, frantically yanking on the handle to try and pull it open again. It wouldn’t budge and Emin saw him start to panic, running for the nearest exit to the hall but finding that locked too.
‘Pirn!’ Emin called. He ripped Gennay’s keys from her belt and threw them to the man, then ducked his head under Gennay’s arm and hoisted her up.
The flames seemed to deepen now, the air rapidly filling with choking smoke. Emin glanced back and saw most of the mezzanine was aflame. A gust of smoke rolled over them, causing Emin to heave and cough for a moment before he could get Gennay down to the ground floor.
‘It’s jammed!’ Pirn wailed from the front door.
Emin ran over as best he could and grabbed the keys off him. In the smoky half-light of flames it was hard to see, but he realised the man had been using the right key. He shoved it in the lock and felt the key collide with something halfway – the lock had been blocked up.
‘What’s going on? The lock was clear!’ Emin cried, working away with the key but getting nowhere. ‘Someone’s done this, someone’s trapped us inside!’
He turned and tried one of the other doors, the nearest leading to the offices. As he tried keys, none of them seemed to work. There were only six in total and he tried them all, but none would turn the lock no matter how hard he worked at them.
‘Piss and daemons, I can’t move it!’
He glanced back; Pirn was holding his sister up and watching him anxiously. Behind him, shadows danced down the stairs as the flames rose steadily behind the balustrade. The rear way, past the reading rooms, was also blocked by a burning bookcase which had been pulled down across the corridor. Half the books had fallen out and they blazed bright underneath, but the new wood was also starting to burn already.
‘Gennay! What have you done?’ Emin wondered aloud, realising it was she who’d fired the building out of some mad desperation to fight off the shadows. He turned back to the door to give it another try before he went for the one on the other side of the room.
A wordless howl from Pirn stopped him before he could even find which key had fitted best and in the next moment a strange whisper raced around the room with the crackle of flames. Emin turned and the keys fell from his hands as he gaped. There was a figure on the far side of the room. Difficult to make out through the smoke-filled air, it stood in the lee of the staircase, just before the door Emin had intended to try.
His hand went to his belt but Emin found he’d discarded his sword on the staircase and the figure seemed to know it, turning to the stairs briefly before the whispers came again, like distant chants and laughter mingled. It took a step towards them and Emin realised it wasn’t the smoke that made it indistinct, the figure was no more than a shadow in the place of a man.
‘What in Karkarn’s name . . .’ Emin gasped before smoke filled his lungs and he began to cough and retch.
Gennay seemed to wake up at the sound of whispers and raised her head. Seeing the figure she started to
scream uncontrollably, and so violently her body convulsed with the effort. It was all Emin could do to prevent her from smashing her head on the door behind them, while his head started to swim at the smoke in the air. Panic set in. He couldn’t see any way out and the shadow-daemon slowly advanced towards them through the library’s uncertain twilight.
Something on the mezzanine fell with a crash and a sheet of yellow flame rose briefly. Emin saw the daemon falter at that, becoming more translucent in the briefly waxing light. Pirn saw it too and began to howl about the flames as Gennay had been.
‘The flames, the light keeps it back!’
Pirn didn’t wait for a response and jumped up to run to the nearest burning bookcase. One arm raised to shield his face from the heat, he dragged a burning book from the pile there and tossed it towards the daemon.
The book clattered over the stone floor, missing the daemon but making it falter once more. Buoyed by his modest success, Pirn grabbed a second and a third, crying out as he burned his hands but refusing to stop. Each one briefly diminished the shadow, but even those that passed straight through its body didn’t stop it entirely.
‘Pirn!’ Emin spluttered through the smoke filling his lungs, ‘it’s not enough! We need a way out!’
Whether the man heard him or not Emin couldn’t tell, but he didn’t stop and now the daemon concentrated solely on him. Walking with predatory, staccato steps, the shadow peered at Pirn as he scrabbled around for more books. Emin struggled to stay standing as his head began to spin, a painful wooziness filling his mind as Gennay continued to wail. She lay helpless in his arms, taking deep breaths to scream and increasingly her cries were interspersed with coughs and wheezing.
He felt himself sink to one knee and didn’t have the strength to stand again – he could only watch as the shadow suddenly darted towards Pirn with unnatural speed. It crossed the stone floor in one step, gliding as much as anything, to surge right up to the retainer’s face just as the man turned with another burning book in hand.
Pirn shrieked in fear and fell back; collapsing onto the pile of flames he’d been dragging books from. In a moment his clothes caught and he began to flail wildly while the shadow stared down at him with malicious interest. The more he thrashed the more he became enveloped in fire and Emin barely found himself able to remain on his knees, let alone go to help the man. A dark pall seemed to cross his vision and Emin felt himself sink back as the effects of smoke took their toll, as the shadow at last bored of the burning man and turned its attention his way.