by Toby Frost
“Damn right,” Hugh replied, and he smiled his deep, fierce smile.
“Then come up and join us, and we’ll try to take the chill off a bit. You too, Giulia.”
“Goodbye,” she said. “See you soon.”
She watched Edwin walk between the buildings: a strong, solid man in the winter sun. “He seems a decent fellow.”
Hugh looked down at her. “Yes, he’s an old friend of mine. We fought at the Bone Cliffs together, back in the war.” The old knight ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think we should visit them?”
“Your friends? Of course. ’Course we should. Maybe Edwin could help us go after this wyvern of yours. Who’s this Elayne, then? Another old friend?”
“Yes,” said Hugh.
“So what’s she like?”
“Skilled in the Art,” the knight replied.
“A wizard, you mean?”
“Yes. She was always very talented. She’s really quite remarkable.”
***
The salls were closing in the Plaza of Wisdom. They were tiny and gaudy compared to the serene public buildings that hemmed them in: the Basilica of St Marietta with its five pale domes, the Palace of Justice and its massive clock tower, and the stern, white bulk of the Senate of the Hundred, where the City Council met.
Giovanni Benevesi watched the stallkeepers from the palace doorway. They were tough men, all older than he was, but the sight of them gave him an almost paternal pride. They were fellow pursuers of commerce, working their way up in life the way he had almost done, perhaps even borrowing money from his own bank.
The clock boomed the hour of five. Someone touched his arm, and Benevesi started: he hoped it didn’t make him look guilty. Georgio Nones, an architect and fellow member of the Council of a Hundred, stood by his side.
“Not going home?” Nones asked. “The meeting’s over, you know. You’re a free man again – until tomorrow.”
“Yes, thank Heaven.” It had been a painfully boring session of the Council. Even the Decimus himself had looked as if he wanted to fall asleep, while his ministers had debated provisions for additional fire-watchers in the poor quarter. “I’ve got some business to do. A meeting of the bank elders.”
“That sounds daunting,” Nones replied. “But not as daunting as being late home to my wife!”
Benevesi made himself laugh, and watched as Nones scurried away. The smile dropped off his face.
A figure appeared in the entrance to the basilica. Tiny under the huge white archway, the man trotted down the steps and turned left.
Benevesi followed him.
The old man made no effort to cover his tracks, but Benevesi did not catch him up. They crossed two small bridges and turned towards the docks. On Four Saints Way, the old man entered an ale-house. Benevesi paused outside. He could see to the far end of the road, straight out of the city and into the bay. The Grand Griffon reared up out of the winter mist like a monster striding out to fight Averrio’s enemies. For a moment, Benevesi felt that it was watching him. Then he ducked into the tavern, into the warmth.
The room was busy, full of merchants bracing themselves with drink for the cold walk home. Chatter filled the air like gas.
On the far side of the room, the proprietor put a cup of wine in front of the old man. Benevesi slipped through the clientele until he stood at the old man’s side.
“Azul,” Benevesi said. “I’d have gone for coffee, myself.”
The old man looked around. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were shrewd and hard. His mouth naturally hung open a little, as if it were a small hole cut in a piece of leather. He looked at Benevesi as he always did, as if about to angrily rebut an accusation.
“A fad,” Azul croaked. “It smells better than it tastes.” He pointed at a space by the far wall. He was wearing gloves: Benevesi had never seen him without them. “Over there. It’s too noisy here.”
Benevesi bought a drink of his own. When they stood beside the wall, Azul said, “This wine could be better, too.”
The banker sighed. “Perhaps we should have met elsewhere.”
“This is good enough. You look natural here.”
Too natural, Benevesi thought. How many of the merchants know my name – and perhaps my face?“Did you sort that problem out?” he asked.
“Soon,” the old man replied.
“I hope so. I tell you, if this gets out, we’ll both be in the shit.”
Azul looked up from his wine. “I know that,” he replied. “Do you think I’m stupid? I am well aware of what it is to live in danger, thank you. My man will deal with it by the end of today.”
“Good. It needs taking care of.”
Azul smiled. It looked false. “How are the Council of a Hundred these days? Ruling with wisdom?”
Benevesi took a sip of his wine. “Worse than useless,” he said, lowering his cup. “They talk incessantly, but they do nothing. Except architecture, that is. Architecture and warships.”
“That sounds like every council I’ve heard of,” Azul said. “Always bickering. Merchants and politicians, eh?” He looked at the bar, across the smiling, well-fed faces. A group of tubby men burst out laughing. Azul scowled as if he had bitten into a lime. “Look at them, grubbing for coins. Not a soldier among them. You know, one day I think men like this will get a terrible surprise.”
Benevesi wondered if Azul included him in that definition. He felt a slight twinge of fear. Did Azul joke about how soft he was to that weird tall woman who followed him everywhere? Benevesi glanced around the room, knowing that if Azul attacked him, none of these smooth, pampered men would raise a hand in his defence. But of course, Azul wouldn’t do that. Not ever.
Azul sipped, and frowned as though the wine had offended him. “So, I assume there will be no change in the import laws.”
“None. I tried, believe me, but the Hundred weren’t having any of it.”
“As I thought. Well, thank you for trying. You can expect more payments at the end of the month.”
“I will.” They drank in silence, the hubbub of the ale-house surrounding them. Benevesi raised his cup. “Then I propose a toast. To success.”
Azul took another sip. His throat twitched as if he’d swallowed a pebble. “Success,” he croaked.
A man and woman walked in. They were tall and light-haired, healthier and younger than most of the clientele, and could have been brother and sister. The woman closed the door, and the man scanned the room; he saw Azul and grinned into his beard.
“Your friends are here,” Benevesi said.
“They’ve come to collect me. It’s dangerous for an old man to go walking alone,” Azul said, and his mouth opened like a hatch in his face. A hard, wheezing laugh came out.
Benevesi made himself smile back. Azul’s young friends unnerved him. There was something outdoorsy about them, a fierce heartiness that made him think that they’d roar with laughter one moment and slash your throat the next.
“Ah,” the woman said, striding over, “you are drinking away the cold, eh?” Her accent was foreign, slightly lilting. Benevesi reckoned that she was some kind of Teut.
“I couldn’t keep away, Alicia,” Azul said, smiling. He glanced at the man. “Cortaag, is that little matter being dealt with tonight?”
Cortaag was a little more formal: more like a servant than a relation. “It’s being handled right now, sir.”
Azul looked at Benevesi. “Reliable people, these. The best. Always surround yourself with good workers. It’s the key to success, you know. And now,” he declared, “I have to go. You can have the rest of my wine. I’ll arrange a meeting soon.”
As Benevesi took the cup, Azul pulled his cloak tight across his meagre shoulders. His bodyguards parted to let him through. “Until next time,” he said, and he walked towards the doors.
***
&nbs
p; Giulia waited for Hugh in the north of the city, where the canals met the land and where the merchants swapped their long, low boats for carts. It was just after dark, and the street was empty. Their horses were tied up in an alleyway across the road. In the canal behind the inn, the water lay as quiet and black as tar.
She leaned against the buttress of a church, deep in shadow, not truly hiding but reluctant to stand in full view. She had nothing to hide, but it was best not to give people an excuse to make a nuisance of themselves.
The Old Arms was unusual for Averrio: a long, low, sprawling building, whose stables stuck out from the sides like roots from a stump. The canal ran parallel with the rear of the inn; the front faced onto a road. It looked like something from the countryside. Rustic, perhaps, but not cheap: the road was lit by a succession of glowing alchemical lanterns, which meant that the locals had hired a lamplighter. It looked warm and safe.
Several streets away, a hoarse voice struggled to drum up trade. “Come and see the salacious dances of the forest folk! The dryad dance of fertility! It will entrance even the most—” The man broke into coughs and tailed off. It was too cold to be shouting in the street.
Orange light bloomed on the stones to her left. Two guards turned the corner, one carrying a lantern. The crest on their tunics showed a white griffon against a blue background. The man on the left carried a musket, the other a crossbow.
Watchmen, she thought: no-one else would go strolling around at this time of night, especially dressed like that.
Giulia stepped into view. The Watchmen would soon have seen her anyway, and it would be best not to surprise armed men.
“Everything well, friend?” one asked.
His tone of voice suggested that there was no good reason to be hanging about outdoors. “Just waiting,” she replied.
“Oh yes?” The Watchman had a small, bony head on a long, wrinkled neck, like a vulture, and he pushed it out at her. “Waiting for what?”
For God’s sake. She pulled her hood back. “For my uncle. He’s sorting out lodgings in the inn.” Giulia pointed across the street. “See those horses in the alley there? I’m watching them for him.”
The Watchmen made a show of weighing up the situation. “Is that so?” the older man said, and she wondered if he was about to make trouble for her.
“Come on,” said the other. “If it gets much colder my balls’ll drop off.”
Ah, you can’t beat the Watch. Wherever you go, they’re all the same.
Giulia watched them turn and go. It was only when they were out of sight that she realised she was still being observed.
There was a long dagger in her boot, under her skirt, but she slid her hand onto the little meat-knife on her belt. Quicker to draw, less suspicious to possess.
A man loomed out of the dark. He stood there, just separate from the shadows, carefully looking at nothing.
“Have the Watch gone yet?” He had an unusual accent, hard to pin down.
Giulia said, “They’d hear me if I called.”
“Don’t call them. Please.”
His face should have been handsome, but the hard jaw and dark eyes were meant for a stronger, more arrogant man, a man Giulia would not have much liked. Instead he looked nervous, as if afraid that the tough customer whose face he’d stolen would come to take it back.
He looked enviously at the Old Arms. “Is that place safe?”
“I don’t know. I’d think so.”
“They get a lot of travellers in there?”
He wore black, she saw, a long robe down to his ankles. His boots were tough and battered; there were strips of cloth wrapped round his hands to warm them, like bandages.
“I get the feeling all sorts stay there. It’s probably safe enough for a preacher,” Giulia said.
“I’m not a preacher. I’m just a peddler, that’s all. I just sell things.”
So where’s the stuff you’re peddling, then? She tightened her grip on her knife, willing him to go away. She wondered if he was mad enough to think she was a prostitute, whether he’d start saying crazy sexual stuff. He’d be getting a fist in the mouth if he did. Maybe more than that.
“My name’s Sebastian,” he said.
“Amelia.” Go away.
“You ever been in there?” Sebastian kept his eyes on the inn, as if worried that it would sneak away.
“No.”
“I heard there were Anglians there.” Suddenly he seemed agitated, as though the answer mattered a great deal. “Knights and suchlike. Pious men.”
She wondered why he cared. Perhaps he wanted to convert to the New Church. If he somehow thought Hugh could help with that, he was in for a surprise. Hugh believed in what he called the Piety of Noble Deeds, which meant that he rarely bothered with going to church if he could charge about on horseback instead.
“I don’t know,” she said again. Go away. Can’t you tell that I want you to fuck off?
Sebastian stared off down the street. He looked ready for something to happen – angry, almost. “I have to go. But thank you.”
“It was nothing,” she said, reflecting that it really had been nothing at all. She was glad to see him go; even if he meant no harm, fear stuck to him like a sickness.
A door opened across the road, and light and noise spilled into the street: voices singing and chattering, and the sudden smell of food. Hugh of Kenton strode out, smiling as he paced across the road.
“Ah, there you are! This is the place, all right.”
“Good,” she said. “Is there space?”
“Yes. Edwin had them keep a couple of rooms back. Elayne’s in there with him now. That’s the good thing about these city places – you can get a room to yourself. None of that sleeping on the floor nonsense.”
“Great,” she said. “I’m freezing to death out here.” She looked down the street. Sebastian had disappeared.
“Everything all right, Giulia?”
She peered into the dark. Nobody. “There was a man just here. Dressed like a priest. He’s gone now.”
“I saw a fellow walk off.” Hugh nodded to the north. “Went that way. You need something from him?”
“God, no. I wanted shot of him. He started talking rubbish at me. I can’t stand it when men think they can just ramble at you.”
“Really? That’s no good. Ought to have given him a piece of my mind.” Hugh looked around as if unsure how he’d got there. “Well, come in. Bloody freezing out here.”
He held the door open for her. Giulia walked from the night to the orange firelight of the inn. A babble of voices hit her ears, and the heat made her skin prickle with sweat.
People huddled in groups around tables, hunched over beer and dice. Iron candelabra hung below the soot-blackened ceiling. A single, massive fire crackled at one end of the room. The air was full of noise and smoke and the smell of soot.
She walked deeper inside and Hugh followed, looming up behind her. At the far end of the inn a fat man in an apron dipped cups into an open barrel and handed them to a little cluster of people around him. Hugh found a couple of cups on the floor, knocked the rushes off them and held them out to be filled with small beer.
“Edwin and Elayne were here,” he said. “Must’ve moved back…”
Giulia followed him, sipping, glancing from man to man. She did not consciously check the customers for weaponry, but her eyes moved there as if magnetised – to belts and sleeves and dagger handles protruding from the tops of boots, to the fresh scabs on a man’s knuckles and the way another set his shoulders as he stood. Even in a decent inn like this, there was always a chance that violence lay waiting under the smiles.
In the rear of the room there was a walled circle, a tiny arena for dogs to fight packs of dockyard rats. Now, though, the pit was empty and half a dozen people leaned against the railing and talked.
Hugh waved and Elayne smiled, revealing a lot of white teeth. For someone who had to be at least forty-five, Elayne had aged extremely well. She knows magic, Giulia thought. Go carefully.
“There you are,” Hugh said.
“Here I am indeed,” Elayne replied, grinning.
She looks mad when she smiles. Still, no scars on her face. She’s doing better than some.
“This is my friend Giulia,” Hugh said. He held his arm out towards Giulia as if welcoming a performer on stage.
“Hello,” Giulia said.
“Hello there!” Elayne replied. “I’m most pleased to meet you. Elayne Brown. So, are you an adventurer like Hugh?”
It seemed an odd expression. The usual word was “thief-taker” and, occasionally, “mercenary”. “I suppose so,” Giulia said. “I mean, I’ve had what you might call adventures.”
“Excellent!” Elayne said. “Have you seen any unusual places on your travels? Any good monsters to tell me about?”
Giulia had seen monsters, some of them human, and on bad nights she dreamed of them. She made herself smile and said, “Well, none that I’d call good, but I’m not sure if Hugh would agree.”
Elayne laughed. “How did you meet?”
“Well, it was back in Pagalia. There was a riot at the palace – a rebellion, I suppose – and we were on the same side when it all broke out. We kind of helped Princess Leonora take the throne. Anyhow, both of us couldn’t stand the place, so as soon as the chance came we took the road out of there. And, well, for the moment the road’s taken us here.”
“A rebellion? You’ll have to tell me all about it. Goodness, Hugh, I can hardly believe it’s really you! Let’s all sit down – you too, Giulia. We’ve got so much to talk about!”