Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments

by Tom Lloyd

  It was then that she saw it. A small shape at the base of a low cupboard door – the very centre of the bed platform where Anatin slept out on the road. A nondescript leather purse hung by a piece of string from the wooden peg handle of the cupboard. Sitain frowned. From what she’d seen of the man, Foren was meticulous in everything he did and certainly took his duties as supply master most seriously. To leave anything out was strange. Sitain checked around the rest of the caravan. Everything was put away or tied down, absolutely everything, while as the caravan rumbled on the purse swung freely with the obvious clink of coins inside.

  Sitain checked the door in a fit of paranoia, but it remained shut. She gently slid the bolt shut, just in case, and went to investigate the purse. It was dark inside the caravan with the shutters on the window also closed, but enough light crept through the cracks to reveal a handful of silver coins once she emptied the purse out. All currency local to Grasiel, a dozen silver pieces in total.

  ‘That’s no mistake,’ Sitain said to herself, again glancing nervously at the door. ‘Foren’s too tidy and Anatin’s too miserly to forget his purse.’

  She spent a long while looking at the coins before she tipped them back into the purse and cinched it tight again. There was only one explanation that came to mind for her and she was struggling to decide if it was a welcome one or not.

  ‘So someone doesn’t want me here, Anatin most likely. And this is what? A bribe? Twelve silver coins must be enough to give me a head start, but not enough for a man to hold much of a grudge against someone taking it. Certainly not a girl he doesn’t want around much. Even if he can’t bring himself to kick me out, he’ll not lose sleep if I slip off and take the danger I bring with me.’

  Or he’s just looking for an excuse to kill me and be done with the problem?

  She sat in silence a while longer, as she contemplated the second scenario. Was it cowardly not to take the offer? Would she in effect be committing herself to the company?

  Gods above, what do I even want? If Anatin would prefer me gone, should I even be thinking about this? What is keeping me with them? Is it really just Lynx?

  Or am I too frightened to go it alone? Where would I go? Far away from here, far from the Militant Orders, but that’s a long way. Their reach stretches for hundreds of miles. And where would I even go? The Mage Isles? Five hundred miles or more through lands which more often than not have armies roaming them. The Eastern Seas, where I’d stand out like a sore thumb?

  Or do I stick with the devils I know? It’s not like these mercenaries are a devout lot. Only one who objects to me does so ’cos of where my ma escaped from before I was born. Maybe I can stay and learn some healing – put all this to some use and be a burden to no one. If they want me to stay, if I really become part of them, it’ll take a small army to make the Cards hand me over.

  The thought seemed to lessen the weight on her heart a touch, but just then the caravan jolted to a halt and sent her sprawling. When she’d recovered from the surprise, Sitain hopped up and went cautiously to the window, pushing it open as best she could to try and peer out at what was going on.

  Before she could make anything out the door suddenly rattled violently. Sitain jumped, panic filling her mind as a hand banged on the wood.

  ‘Sitain, dammit girl, open the bastard door!’

  She gasped in relief, it was Foren. She scrambled forward and unbolted the door, pushing it open and almost knocking him over in the process.

  ‘Hells! Careful, girly.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, scanning the street behind as she spoke. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Traffic’s backed up,’ he said with a frown. ‘Don’t know why but I don’t like it. Looks like they’re searching carts leaving the city.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  Foren shook his head. ‘Don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I ain’t much keen for them to find you here.’

  As he spoke a figure rounded the corner of the cart and almost collided with Foren. It was Payl. She had remained in charge of the wagons, where the strongbox and supplies were, while the troops had gone on ahead.

  ‘Time to move,’ Payl announced. ‘Sorry, but you’re getting off early.’

  ‘Are they looking for me?’

  ‘Who cares? You’re hiding in a caravan while the rest of us walk, they’ll take an interest and there are Knights-Charnel liveries up there. We’re not getting you out of the city today.’

  ‘I’m trapped?’ Sitain gasped, snatching up her small bag of belongings.

  ‘It’s a big city. That’s a problem for another day.’ Payl waved her forward. ‘Come on, move yourself before the queue starts moving.’

  ‘Wait,’ Foren said, holding up a hand to stop Sitain heading down the steps. ‘There’s a purse in there, hanging off a cupboard at the back. Funds, in case you need them. I’m sure you didn’t notice it earlier.’

  She met his gaze for a moment and a flicker of a smile crossed Foren’s face. Sitain ducked her head and headed back inside, scooping up the purse and returning a few moments later.

  ‘You remember where the others were moving to?’

  Sitain nodded. The strike group would be leaving the inn and heading to another closer to the centre of the city, closer to their target. If there were complications, Anatin hoped the change would make it harder to link them to the rest of the company.

  She got down from the caravan and tucked the purse into a pocket of her jacket. Behind them the street was starting to build up with people, drifting warily forward as they tried to get a sight of what was happening at the gate. Sitain peered around the caravan but could only see a tangle of people and carts ahead. There were plenty of black and white liveries on view, though, more than enough to rekindle the spark of fear inside her.

  ‘What is it?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Just thinking someone else could be watching, see who leaves before they get to the gate.’

  ‘You’ve a nasty suspicious mind there, Sitain,’ Payl said, adding, ‘it’s what I’d do.’

  Payl looked around. There were winding side streets leading off in most directions. This part of the city was an old and evolving mix of tall warehouses and tenements punctuating low clusters of houses. ‘That way,’ she said, nodding towards an alley. ‘I think that leads off along the city wall towards the temple of Veraimin over there.’

  As Sitain followed the woman’s directions she saw there was a bulbous dome peeking over the rooftops, a distinctive Surei construction of devotional elegance amid the functional homes of the city.

  ‘Midday prayers must be about now,’ Foren agreed. ‘There’s no way to cut you off before you reach it and with luck a crowd to lose yourself in around the temple. Nothing like Veraimin’s worshippers for some usefully noisy chaos.’

  ‘And if I’m followed?’

  ‘Once you’re out of sight of the gate, run,’ Payl said. ‘If anyone’s following, I’ll get in their way.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Payl smiled. ‘Reckon Ashis and I can manage that, the girl can pick a fight with a wall. I’ll just get in the way as I pull her off anyone who might be trying to follow.’

  Sitain forced herself to return the smile. Gratitude, Sitain, she reminded herself, some of these mercenaries are good people. Even the ones that ain’t are keeping your secret.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Hop it.’

  She jumped to obey, walking as fast as she dared towards the alley mouth Payl had indicated. No one obviously moved to follow, but she kept her eyes forward, hands jammed in her pockets and clutching the purse. As she passed the tavern that protruded from the corner, the sun broke through the clouds and seemed to cast a golden path down the mostly empty street ahead. She took it as a sign and broke into a sprint, not daring to look back.

  Chapter 14

  After half an hour of trying to keep to the largest and busiest streets, Sitain finally found herself somewhere she recognised. The great squ
are Lynx had taken her to was also a major junction, seeing a steady flow of traffic beneath each of its four tall white arches.

  The sight of something familiar felt like a cooling salve but as the panic waned, Sitain realised her hands were still shaking. She ducked into an eatery and spent a little of Anatin’s money on a small stack of pork-stuffed buns and a steaming cup of tea. She found herself a stool in the darkest corner and wedged herself in with her back to the wall behind, watching the square from the security of the shadows.

  Did I lose them? She blinked and forced herself to eat, taking long, slow breaths. Was there even anyone following? Coldest dark, am I just frightening myself now?

  She slurped at the scalding tea, glad of the sharp and very real sting on her tongue. Don’t be a fool, she reminded herself. You’ve always got something real to be frightened of, never forget that. You can’t be too wary, not when you’re out on the streets alone.

  ‘So where now?’ she muttered.

  The man nearest her gave a start. ‘Eh?’

  ‘Sorry, talking to myself,’ Sitain gabbled, feeling a fresh burst of panic.

  ‘Ah. Not to worry.’ The man paused and squinted at her. ‘You okay, miss?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Sure? Looks like ya got an elemental on your tail, if ya don’t mind me saying.’

  Instinctively, Sitain looked down at her clothes, then pulled her dishevelled hair back into some semblance of order. Whether he was right or not, she didn’t need to be looking like she’d been running away from anything.

  ‘Bad morning is all,’ she said eventually.

  He cocked his head and Sitain took a proper look at the man. A light-skinned Asann with grey eyes and a scrappy beard that failed to hide his gaunt face; under a grubby coat he wore the clothes of an itinerant priest, a Jaian. A brown cassock with bone toggles on one side from waist to shoulder, a belt of five cords like a flat hand and a simple iron pendant of Ulfer’s tusks around his neck.

  ‘No stranger to the odd bad morning misself,’ the priest said gently. ‘But in my case it’s the drink, more often than not.’

  Sitain frowned at the memory of her morning. ‘Mebbe that too, come to think of it.’

  The priest laughed and slapped a palm down on to the counter-top. ‘Hah! In that case, the only answer’s more drink. Come, join me.’

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Couldn’t stomach more, just need a moment to catch my breath and think.’

  ‘In trouble?’

  ‘Just a man, thinks he owns what he don’t,’ Sitain replied.

  ‘A story old as time,’ the priest said with a sage nod. ‘I’d like to say we mostly grow out of it, but most fools grow into old fools.’

  She scowled. ‘Aye, well some don’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘Then keep clear o’ that one.’ He cackled. ‘An’ keep a knife handy. You cut his balls off an’ I’ll teach him a new path.’

  Sitain didn’t join the old man’s mirth. You couldn’t geld an entire Militant Order, just like you couldn’t reason with them. Controlling mages kept them rich and powerful so they didn’t care for the right or wrong of it. Few did when they had the gods on their side.

  ‘Think I’ll just keep clear,’ Sitain said between mouthfuls, suddenly anxious to be away again. ‘Go where he can’t find me.’

  ‘May Lord Ulfer guide your path,’ the priest said, lifting his pendant to kiss it as he spoke.

  Sitain grunted, biting back her first response. ‘If he could tell me how to reach the Threegates without running into any red-headed bastards, that’d help.’

  The priest eased himself off his seat. ‘Well now, guess I’m Ulfer’s appointed servant hereabouts and I recognise a holy charge when I see one.’

  ‘No, I didn’t—’

  ‘My god commands, I hear his voice clear as day,’ he said, waving away her protests. The priest winked and plucked one of the remaining two small buns from her plate. ‘But this small tithe wouldn’t go far wrong all the same.’

  Sitain found herself smiling at that. ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Excellent, ah, delicious.’ He shrugged his coat off to fully reveal his priestly robes and handed it to Sitain. ‘Carry yer own and keep the hood up. More’n a few priests trail acolytes in their wake, nobody’ll look twice.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She pulled the coat on and bundled her own up with her meagre bag of belongings.

  He shrugged. ‘A small act o’ devotion. Name’s Kurobeil, by the way.’

  ‘Payl,’ she said.

  ‘Heading back home? I’m guessing ya came to the big city following this boy?’

  ‘Can’t go home,’ she said sadly, ‘but a friend works up that way. He’ll put me up a night or two ’til I work out where to go.’

  ‘Fancy life as a wandering priest’s acolyte?’

  ‘Think I’d prefer to join a mercenary company, if I’m honest.’

  Kurobeil laughed. ‘Life’s taking a strange turn if they’re your only options.’

  He headed outside, leaving his own pack on the floor before Sitain. She looked at it and sighed, pulled her hood up to hide her face and heaved the pack up.

  It didn’t take them long to cross the city and reach the district around Threegates. As they walked Kurobeil maintained a near-constant drone of plainchant prayers while Sitain kept her head low, hoping it was a case of hiding in plain sight. She kept having to remind herself that the Charnelers shouldn’t know what she looked like, that her face wasn’t going to betray her, but the threat they posed remained like a cloud over the city.

  They might ask difficult questions of any young woman trying to leave the city alone or have some way of hunting mages, but although they were out in force on the streets she was just one face among hundreds.

  At a fork in the road they stopped, one street leading towards Threegates itself while the other headed away towards the Island of the Assayed. In the distance Sitain could see the spires of mage-built mansions and the funicular track marking the hillside behind. It remained a wondrous sight, but her attention was instead grabbed by the road to the gates and the crowd waiting at it. Noticing where her attention lay, Kurobeil broke off from his prayer and cocked his head at her.

  ‘That’s not for you, is it?’

  She shook her head, trying to hide her panic. ‘I don’t know what that’s for.’

  Sitain glimpsed a sceptical look on his face but turned away from him, heading towards a side street where a covered bridge connected two buildings. Beyond it, the street opened up into a small courtyard where painted wooden signs for a saddlery and inn hung from the bridge. Brenn’s Saddlery meant nothing to her but the Yellow Hood Inn was what she’d been looking for.

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Kurobeil called after her. ‘So, where now?’

  ‘I find my friend.’

  As though to make a point to the itinerant priest, she slipped his pack off her shoulders and pushed her hood back. After a look around at the bustling street she took the coat off and returned it to him. Sitain headed into the shadows of the covered bridge and, stepping to one side to make room for a horse being led around the square, found herself at the door of the inn.

  ‘There really is a friend?’ He raised a hand as Sitain opened her mouth to speak. ‘Ain’t casting no stones here. We’re all allowed our reasons to go where we like. A man like me lives that way, not suited to much else. Just wonderin’ if an old man can’t be of any more service to a girl in need?’

  ‘You’ve done enough,’ Sitain said sharply before catching herself. ‘Damn, that came out wrong. I just mean, I think I’ll find my friend here. You’ve done me a good turn, thank you, but I can go from here.’

  Kurobeil gave her a long look before shrugging. ‘Like I said, we go where we like, so I pray Ulfer will walk with you.’ He nodded in the direction the gate lay in. ‘For me, I reckon Ulfer wants me out there on the city road. Mebbe I’ll set up at the roadside a few days, give a few blessings to travellers and
—’

  He didn’t get any further as the door to the inn opened and there was a startled noise.

  ‘Shit, damn and dark places,’ growled a voice. Before either of them could move a hand emerged from the gloom within and hauled Sitain bodily inside.

  Kurobeil yelped and raced to follow as Sitain was roughly dragged through a short corridor. She struggled a moment, trying to reach for the knife at her belt, but had her hand slapped away by a stinging blow. Panic bloomed as she was pulled into a warm smoky room beyond, sensing a flurry of movement as Kurobeil barrelled after her, protesting loudly. Before he could finish, he was also grabbed and slammed against a wall.

  Sitain blinked and looked into the cold dead eyes of Teshen. The Knight of Tempest grunted and released her.

  ‘Afternoon, princess.’

  Behind Teshen, Kurobeil whimpered and startled her back to her senses. She dodged around the Knight and threw herself forward, grabbing Kas’s arm to pull it back so the woman’s blade wasn’t pressed against Kurobeil’s cheek.

  ‘Wait!’ she gasped. ‘He’s with me.’

  ‘With you?’ Kas’s eyes flashed a moment then she lessened her grip on the priest’s throat. ‘How’s that, then?’

  ‘He ah … well, guided me here.’

  ‘Explain,’ Teshen advised, ‘or I’m cutting his throat.’

  Kas sheathed her knife and stepped back to allow a shaky Kurobeil to steady himself on a nearby chair.

  ‘So these’re your friends, eh?’ Kurobeil croaked. ‘Friendly bunch, ain’t they?’

  ‘We’re the nice ones,’ Kas said nastily.

  At that moment a door opened and Reft loomed through, having to duck to get his head under the lintel.

  ‘Him, on the other hand,’ Kas continued, ‘I’d definitely worry about, if I was you.’

  Kurobeil looked the huge muscular man up and down and his face went as pale as Reft’s. ‘Ulfer preserve me.’

  Reft offered that wide, humourless smile that showed his gold teeth. Kurobeil shrank back at the sight as Kas chuckled.

  ‘So, girl,’ Teshen said, ‘what’re you doing here? Who’s this priest? An’ most importantly, do you know how pissed off our Crow-Lord’s going to be?’