by Tom Lloyd
Desperately, Toil waved her hands in front of her face but she could see nothing. The lamp was gone, Bade was gone. The rest were dead and she was blind at the bottom of an ancient ruin.
I’m all alone.
Silently in the dark, Toil began to weep.
Chapter 17
Under the city, in the cool bubble of light cast by the alchemical globe lamp, Sotorian Bade watched his men work for a long while before tapping one on the shoulder and beckoning. There was a makeshift rope system set up there, two men filling buckets with earth and rubble, a third behind lowering those to be emptied at the bottom of the chamber. The work was painstakingly slow, but almost silent to avoid betraying their presence to any guards on the other side of the wall.
Four Knights-Charnel dragoons stood guard behind, watching the relic hunters work and trying to conceal their own disquiet. Bade’s crew had all been underground at least once before. Enough that they were used to it, but he could see on the faces of the dragoons that they weren’t yet past the stories they’d heard all their lives. The pitch-black warrens of streets where monsters lurked, the mines that delved miles into the ground. They kept as close as they could to the white light of the lamp, its feeble cast undoubtedly a bastion of the human world in their eyes.
Best they get used to it now, Bade thought as Chotel downed tools and rose, brushing dirt from his clothes before following Bade down the stairway to the floor. There’ll be no time later. If they’re still thrown by that when we enter the labyrinth, our lady of dark will take ’em fast enough.
He led Chotel through the propped-open stone door and into the great Duegar-made cavern above the labyrinth before he spoke. The faint blue glow of the seams in the rock spread out around them and merged with the black beyond, Bade’s small lantern barely giving any definition to the huge chamber they stood at the edge of.
‘How long?’
Chotel scratched his cheek as he thought. The dirt was almost invisible on him in this light but Bade could smell its damp, earthy aroma in the stale air of the cavern.
‘Depends what you call done,’ he said at last. ‘We’re through the first brick wall, but this rubble is pretty deep. I can’t tell how deep yet – only that we didn’t need to be quiet at first, which is a fine joke given that now we know that we do need to work as quiet as we can.’
‘Done is when we can get through. One at a time is fine.’
‘Gonna be a tough fight if we’re going single file. Something happened to make this more pressing?’
Bade grinned, his teeth suddenly bright in the darkness. ‘You could say that. I ran into an old friend at the Monarch’s announcement. Turns out she wasn’t delighted to see me.’
‘Who?’
‘Woman called Toil. She’s, ah, not a fan o’ mine. Tried to kill me once before, mebbe five years ago.’
‘Was I there?’ Chotel asked. ‘It’s hard to keep track of all the times people try to show how much they love you.’
‘Out Vether-un-Seil way, earthquake had uncovered that great hole in the ground.’
‘Ah yeah. I always thought you started that bar fight?’
‘In a fashion, I did,’ Bade chuckled. ‘Left her behind on a run years before – first intact tomb I found. Made my fortune and won me the everlasting friendship of the Order in the process.’ He shook his head. ‘Almost shit myself when I recognised her in that bar, thought she was a ghost or something. Turns out she’s got decent rep as a relic hunter now, which ain’t any great surprise if she climbed her way out o’ that deepest black deathtrap.’
‘And she holds a grudge? Funny that.’
‘Yeah, some people, eh? Point is, the general’s got the hump and made some pretty drastic demands to ease her wounded pride. No way the Monarch will agree to free rein in the labyrinth and companies of our troops guarding each entrance so that makes us more’n likely going our own way, but the schedule is pushed up. So we get this ready for Kastelian to breach if he needs to while we go on ahead.’
‘Wouldn’t want to be breaching this single file.’
‘We came prepared,’ Bade said with a shrug.
‘Our night mage ain’t gonna put a whole garrison out.’
‘Ah well, I’ve got a few other toys in my chest. There’s a plan forming, just need to know how the chips will fall.’
Chotel nodded. They’d worked together for a few years now and he knew Bade wasn’t joking much when he said ‘toys in my chest’. He was one of the most successful relic hunters in the business and hadn’t sold everything he’d found; he kept as much back as he could, even from Chotel. There were several booby-trapped chests that came as part of Bade’s luggage whenever they went on a job and Chotel was one of several in the crew with cause to owe their life to the contents.
‘More men then, another globe lamp for when that one burns out.’
‘I’ll shift all our kit underground, make it so we can block up the cellar behind us if we need to cover our tracks. We’ve proved we can leave by one of the other entrances now.’
‘All the others are guarded,’ Chotel pointed out.
‘It’d only be a last resort,’ Bade clarified, ‘but once this all kicks off we may need another exit. Kastelian’s going to keep a squad in reserve near one of the other entrances – if his lovely friend the general can’t take the whole city, they’ll be waiting for activity at that one. If it looks like the guards are getting ready to drop grenades or anything, they’ll surprise ’em in the rear and not in the way the men o’ this city enjoy.’
‘How long do I have?’
‘Fast as you can. The signal could come any time.’
Toil opened the door to the lodging house and swore long and loud. Lynx craned his head to look over the woman’s shoulder with Payl and Teshen and found himself blinking in disbelief. It was early in the evening with the sun just going down outside. The great arc of the Skyriver was starting to loom prominently in the darkening sky – a sign back in Su Dregir that the evening’s drinking should be starting. Here in Jarrazir that would be illegal, of course, so the good men and women of Anatin’s Mercenary Deck had found an alternative that was to their liking.
‘When I said no more making this place a gambling den,’ Toil roared, ‘I didn’t mean to turn it into a fucking brothel instead!’
From the table directly in front of her a figure swivelled round in his seat and eyed her unsteadily. For some reason Anatin had a red silk scarf draped over his head, while his tunic was unbuttoned to the waist as some plump local woman explored the skin inside.
‘Ah my dear,’ Anatin declared, brandishing a cigar expansively. ‘In our defence, you didn’t explicitly tell us not to either.’
Captain Cothkern stepped in and looked around. ‘In the interests of not wasting my time by shooting or arresting anyone, I’ll wait outside. You’ve got five minutes, understand?’
Toil nodded and the captain scowled once more at the mercenaries, shook his head and closed the door behind him.
The room was dim and full of people, at least half the mercenary company by Lynx’s guess, along with perhaps twenty whores, both men and women. There had been a desultory attempt to smarten the place up and drapes of red and yellow covered half the walls, but most obvious was the amount of flesh on show and the haze of spiced smoke and perfume in the air. As they gaped, an instrument started up from one corner – a hypnotic wavering screech emanating from some sort of bulbous flute that was soon accompanied by a rapid skittering drum beat.
Lynx finally spotted the source of the smoke; a large clay bowl in one corner that had a ball of something sputtering and fizzing in the gloom. The smoke curled up in ever-shifting patterns as orange and green sparks burst out at random and cut ribbons through the air. Tending the bowl was a pale man in blue silk robes, a whole variety of glass-stoppered bottles laid out before him – clearly the alchemist providing the various drugs flowing through the mercenaries. He gave them both an expansive grin, his teeth flashing gold, but tha
t faltered after one look from Toil.
The assassin marched forward, about to yell at Anatin before abruptly stopping. She looked around once and shook her head.
‘You know what? I don’t care, get it all out now while you still can.’
‘Is that an invitation?’ called someone. Lynx eventually saw Llaith leaning out from behind a great brass samovar.
‘Sure,’ Toil growled. ‘Just don’t whine if it gets cut off.’
Llaith grinned and winked at her. ‘Does the dress unwrap like a midwinter present?’
‘Just like your skin will, given a sharp enough knife,’ Toil snapped as she pushed her way through a knot of dancing figures, one of whom was a burly, red-haired mercenary named Darm. He wore no shirt and his skin glistened with sweat as he swayed with drug-induced languidness with a woman, fondling her exposed breasts with a sexless ecstasy as she traced the patterns of his spider-web tattoo on his chest. If the group even noticed Toil shove her way past they made no sign and Lynx eased them out of the way so he could follow with the others.
Heading to the back rooms he passed a vacantly smiling Sitain wedged on a crowed sofa by the fire, sitting between a muscular young man with painted eyelids and Kas. The company scout gave Lynx an ambiguous look as he passed, before reaching for the man’s glazed pipe. Sitain looked more than comfortable with Kas half-draped over her so he left them to it as Toil went in search of Lastani, finding her in the rear room at a table all of her own, currently covered in books and loose pages.
‘Not partaking in the fun?’
Lastani scowled as she looked up, then blinked in astonishment at the sight of Toil. While she’d borrowed another coat for the journey back, she still wore a figure-hugging dress of silk even if it sported a variety of rips and stains.
‘What happened?’
Toil laughed at that, wearily shaking her head. ‘All too much.’
‘The Monarch rejected your offer?’ Lastani ventured hesitantly.
‘Ah, well now, that’s the thing.’ Toil paused and looked down at herself. ‘Look, I’ve not got a lot of time to spare and I need to get some proper clothes on.’
She beckoned and headed back out to the corridor. With a puzzled look at Lynx, Lastani followed and the two of them headed up to the room Toil had taken for herself towards the rear of the building.
‘And where do you think you’re going?’ Toil asked with a raised eyebrow as Lynx entered last and closed the door behind him.
‘To join the conversation,’ Lynx said firmly. ‘I can do that with my back turned.’
‘What?’ Lastani broke in as Lynx did just that, but the only reply was the click of a brooch pin and the whisper of unwrapping silk. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, flustered. ‘You really did mean …’
‘That I need proper clothes, aye,’ Toil said, her voice taking on that velvety mocking quality Lynx knew only too well.
Even with his back turned, his thoughts remained firmly rooted and in a few moments a pink-cheeked Lastani appeared beside him, facing the cheap ink-painted scroll that had been hung as the room’s only decoration.
‘Don’t have sisters then?’ Toil called.
‘I … no, I do not. Two brothers, both older.’
‘I’d have liked a sister, I reckon. My mum too probably, bit too much of my dad in me – and my brother has rather taken after him too.’
Lynx paused at that, a memory stirring in the back of his mind. He’d been to Toil’s home only once, but it was a visit etched into his memory. One detail of that had been the pair of portraits above her fireplace. A beautiful woman and a great lump of a man; her parents. He’d noticed her mother more, that same dangerous, alluring little smile as Toil had, but now his thoughts turned to her father. Hardly a handsome face, but noticeable all the same with a hard look about him.
Didn’t she once say the man had been a mercenary captain? Huh – and of course a brother offers his coat to his sister, even one like Toil. Guess a man passes on all he has, even if it’s a merc company.
‘And your brother went into the family business?’
There was a small pause. ‘Aren’t you the keen-eyed little sparrowhawk all of a sudden?’
Lynx shrugged, not wanting to explain why he’d been musing on the sight. ‘Are you decent yet, woman?’ he asked gruffly.
‘In body or spirit?’ He heard her finish cleaning up, then a rustle of clothing and a small grunt. ‘Oh for … You can turn round, I’m decent enough.’
When he did so, Toil still wasn’t wearing a lot, just cotton underclothes but those were long, shapeless and plain so even Lastani didn’t look uncomfortable as Toil hauled on her trousers.
‘Now, the Monarch,’ Toil began. ‘I think I’ve persuaded her, with events rather forcing her hand.’
‘What events?’
‘You’ve not heard? Well some fool picked a fight with a Knights-Charnel right before the Monarch’s announcement could take place. It’s made things, ah, complicated.’
‘What does that mean for you? For us?’
‘It means the Monarch is under pressure to crack the labyrinth, one way or another. The Knight-Charnel want what’s inside. Shattered gods – they want the whole thing if they can get it! Doesn’t matter what it is really, but if there are God Fragments they won’t stop until they control them. Letting Jarrazir possess divine relics would be bad enough, allowing a rival mage-cartridge industry to threaten their market … well, they’d rather level the city. Long story short, there’s an army outside the walls.’
‘The city’s under siege?’ Lastani gasped. ‘Since this morning?’
Toil shrugged, looking slightly abashed. ‘Events seem to move quickly when I stick my bloody great foot in.’
‘This was all your doing? This is my home! This is where my family live! I’ve been trying to keep them safe, to keep them out of all this, and you go and put the whole city at risk?’
‘Hey, not like it was deliberate, just some bad luck. Unlike some fucks I could mention who decided to open the damn thing in the first place without any thought to the consequences beyond academic interest. But sure, let’s stand here and argue about blame.’
Lastani opened her mouth again to shout then checked herself and frowned. Looking pale, she sat abruptly down on a bed, staring blankly at Toil as she digested the news fully. Lynx reminded himself that she wasn’t like him; she was a part of this city and had a family within it. Being on the run in her home city must have been hard enough, keeping clear even of family and friends for fear of what she might bring down on them.
Lynx was used to walking away – to cutting ties when things went to shit. More often than not he was the one burning his own bridges, but he’d always known that the road was where he belonged however long he stayed in one place.
And by the same thinking, Lastani had likely always known she belonged here. She was a child of Jarrazir and hadn’t fled even when she became a fugitive. Lynx’s home couldn’t be threatened, his world couldn’t be torn apart any more than it already had been and he’d made a form of peace with what remained. Lastani still had everything to lose.
‘So what now?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘Now I crack the labyrinth before anything more than harsh words gets used, give the Monarch something to bargain with. That means a first foray as soon as I can organise it and a full expedition once I’ve proved I know what I’m doing.’
She nodded slowly. ‘And you want me to go with you.’
‘You guessed that bit, eh?’ Toil said with a nod.
‘I am as close to an expert as remains in the city. I may be no great scholar but I am intimately familiar with the works of Jarrazir’s greatest on top of the fact there’s a warrant out for my arrest and this is the best way to win a little favour from the Monarch. But I’m no relic hunter.’
Toil pulled on her tunic and buttoned it up. Before pulling on her long boots she sat down on the bed beside Lastani.
‘Keeping folk alive is my job,’ she
said with surprising gentleness. ‘I’m the one out front, but if I’ve got your brains to back me up that could prove the difference – for me and for this city.’
‘I cannot tell you what lies in wait down there.’
‘But you can read better’n me,’ Toil pointed out, ‘and you’ve got a greater breadth of knowledge. There will be traps to kill the unwary and puzzles to defeat the unworthy. You don’t build a labyrinth to keep the entire world out, just the bits that aren’t worthy of the prize. This’ll require brains as well as brawn.’
‘Very well,’ Lastani said eventually. ‘I will join you.’
She looked from Toil to Lynx with a spark of determination in her eyes. The young woman looked terribly small and frail to Lynx, but he said nothing. She was a mage and that meant she was tougher than most, plus she would have people he could trust to watch over her – Toil, Kas, Teshen, Safir. Atieno too, most likely. If the ageing Vagrim was anything like Lynx he’d not absolve himself of the responsibility he’d assumed when he saved her at the Fountain.
Toil nodded and pulled her boots on. ‘Are you ready to meet your Monarch?’
‘Not really.’
‘I’m sure we can find something to steady your nerves downstairs, looks like they’ve got half an alchemist’s shop down there.’
Lastani frowned. ‘I’m not sure that would be a sensible idea.’
Lynx burst out laughing. ‘You’re pretty much joining Anatin’s Mercenary Deck,’ he declared. ‘The refuge of bad choices, blind stubbornness and wilful ignorance. Stupid ideas’ll just help you fit in round here.’
Chapter 18
Toil and Lastani left directly for the palace, escorted by Captain Cothkern with two of the Bridge Watch soldiers carrying a chest belonging to Toil. She left Lynx to round up whichever of the company’s officers were still able to see straight, but first he headed to his room intending on changing out of his uniform at long last. To his dismay, Lynx found the door wedged shut by a chair or something. Whoever was in there, all he got was muffled curses and laughter when he hammered on the door.