by Marc Turner
It couldn’t last.
Sure enough, as Luker approached the next corner he heard a noise from round the bend. Halting, he cocked his head to listen, trying to screen out the drumming of the rain on the rooftops. There it was again. A screeching sound. He glanced round the corner. A short distance ahead a wall had collapsed, partly blocking the way. And on an intersection too.
Perfect spot for an ambush.
Luker drew his swords and approached the obstruction. The air was thick with the stench of death. A small body was partly buried beneath the rubble, and dark shapes swarmed over and around it, drifting in and out of the shadows. Rats. And it looked like the Guardian had disturbed their feeding. Reaching out with his Will, he explored the streets beyond the debris. As expected, three figures waited in the alley to his left, two to his right, another two ahead, and doubtless more would be coming up behind to box him in. Luker had no intention of retreating, though. Hit hard and fast, and he could turn this ambush before the idiots even knew they’d lost the advantage of surprise.
Now the fun begins.
He clambered over the rubble, expecting the attack to come while the stones were shifting beneath him. Nothing moved in the darkness. Raising a Will-shield in front of him, he stepped down with a splash into ankle-deep water.
Still the ambushers waited.
Luker approached the intersection, looking neither left nor right, his steps unhurried.
His only warning was the swish of parting air. Two crossbow bolts struck his Will-shield and cannoned off. At the same instant a flash of silver sliced the blackness to his left, and he brought up his sword on that side. There was a clang of metal striking metal. The force of the blow jarred his arm, but he still managed to twist his wrist to trap his enemy’s weapon, stabbed out with his right blade and felt the tip sink into flesh. There was a groan, followed by the clatter of a sword falling onto stone.
The shadows came alive to either side, flowing toward Luker like wraiths.
The Guardian was already moving. Three strides took him into the opposite passage, his footsteps kicking up spray. Two figures waited in the gloom, but Luker was onto them before they were set.
“What—”
The first could only half lift his sword to meet the Guardian’s cut, his mouth making a great “O” of surprise as Luker’s weapon tore open his throat. The second—a huge man with a mace—tried to jump back to give himself room to swing, only to trip over his own feet.
“Shit!”
Luker caught the first man as he fell, twisted, and pushed him into the path of a third attacker coming up behind. They went down with a splash and a strangled curse. A fourth assailant threw a dagger, but the Guardian blocked it with his Will. A kick to the face of the maceman trying to rise, then he was off at a scamper into the darkness, his Will-shield now behind him.
A left turn, a right, checking back every few paces for signs of pursuit.
When he finally drew up to listen he could make out voices behind, but fading quickly beneath the growl of the storm. The Guardian smiled. Looks like I’ve stirred up the hornet’s nest. All he could do now was hope whichever of the emperor’s lackeys was following him got stung.
Half a bell later he emerged onto the road that fronted the port. In the distance rose the wall that circled the harbor, and Luker heard the boom of waves crashing against stone. Spray was thrown up into the air to hang like mist. He tasted salt on the wind.
The inn he was looking for was set apart from the others on the waterfront. A faded wooden sign hung crookedly from a metal pole outside, squeaking as it rocked back and forth. There were bars over the windows, and a dull red glow came from inside. The front door swung open as Luker approached, and two men emerged with their arms linked, staggering as if they crossed the deck of a pitching ship. Inside, a scattering of people sat at crude wooden tables. Their conversation died away as Luker entered, his footsteps thudding on the floorboards. He scanned their faces, but Jenna was not among them.
A short, black-haired woman stood behind the bar. She was using a sliver of wood to clean dirt from under her fingernails. “What’ll it be?”
“Ale,” Luker replied, placing a coin on the bar.
The barmaid snatched it up. She filled a tankard and set it down with a thunk. As she turned away, Luker put a hand on her arm.
“I’m looking for Jenna Amary,” he said.
The woman glanced at something over the Guardian’s shoulder. “Never heard of her.”
Following the direction of her gaze, Luker saw three men sitting at a table by the window. On the table lay a pair of dice and several piles of coins. One of the men was making a coin dance across the fingers of his right hand. “’Course you haven’t,” Luker said to the barmaid. “Just tell her a friend is here to see her.”
Without waiting for a reply, he crossed to an empty table from which he could watch the rest of the common room. Shrugging out of his sodden cloak, he drank a mouthful of ale before settling back in the shadows to wait. Within a dozen heartbeats the three dice-players were on their feet. One walked over to speak to the barmaid. The blackened scars of a Kerinec tribesman traced an intricate pattern down his cheeks and neck to disappear beneath the collar of his patchwork cloak. A longknife was sheathed in a scabbard at his hip. His two companions made their way to the front door. The first slipped outside; the second closed the door behind him and stood guard in front of it. When his gaze met Luker’s, the Guardian raised his drink to him.
Pressure was building behind his eyes, and he hoped Gill was suffering likewise for his use of the Will. It had been a long time since Luker had last had another Guardian turn his power on him, and never before had he locked horns with someone of Gill’s strength. He massaged his temples with his thumbs. For now his headache was mild, but the pain would get worse unless he could find some mesina herbs to blunt its edge …
A floorboard creaked.
Luker looked up to see the Kerinec tribesman standing a few paces away. His gaze was fixed on Luker like he was trying to look threatening.
A woman’s voice spoke. “Back off, Gol. You’re out of your league here.”
The speaker came to stand next to the tribesman. Dressed all in black, she might have passed on a brief inspection for the Kerinec’s shadow. The tribesman cast her a warning look, but she waved him away. “Leave us.”
Gol retreated to his table.
The woman’s face was hidden by a hood, but Luker recognized her all the same. “Jenna.”
Jenna did not respond. Pulling down her hood, she shook out her long dark hair. Luker’s breath caught. Her right eye was half-closed, the skin around it bruised and swollen. There were scratches on her neck, and an angry red cut along her jaw. Her lips were tinged blue, and the sweet tang of juripa spirits hung heavy about her. When she spoke again, Luker could hear smoke in the gravel of her voice. “Making new friends?” she said, looking at Gol.
“Don’t think he likes me, but I’ll get over it. Since when have you needed a minder?”
Jenna ignored the question. “Why are you here?”
“To see you, of course.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “The question was why.”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“You didn’t stop by to tell me you were leaving. Why bother coming now to tell me you’re back?”
Luker sipped his ale, his gaze not leaving Jenna’s over the rim of his tankard. “Didn’t realize I had to report my movements to you. Matter of fact, I’m surprised you even noticed I was gone.”
“For a while I didn’t. But when the months became years, I assumed you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. Are you going to sit down?” This was going well. Good to know after so much time they could pick things up right where they left off.
Jenna pulled out the bench across from him, then moved it round to the side of the table so she could see the common room.
“Still don’t trust me to watch you
r back?” Luker said.
“Old habits die hard. Were you followed?”
The Guardian’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”
“Did you lose him?”
“I reckon so. Took him to see the sights of the Warren. Was he one of yours?”
“Of course not. I didn’t even know you were back, remember.”
“Then how…” Understanding came to Luker. “You reckon someone followed me to find you?” Someone who did know he was back.
“It’s possible.”
“Why? Who’s after you?”
“None of your damned business.” Jenna beckoned to the barmaid, and the woman arrived moments later with an empty glass and a half-full bottle of spirits. Jenna pulled out the cork with her teeth and poured herself a drink. The vapors made Luker’s eyes water. “So how long’s it been?” Jenna said. “Three years? Four?”
“Two.”
“From the sight of you, I’d have thought it was longer.”
Luker eyed her cuts and bruises. “We can’t all have your pride in our appearance. What happened to your face?”
“I slipped putting on my makeup. What do you bloody well think happened?”
“One of your targets fought back, did he? How rude of him.”
Jenna’s eyes flashed. “Her, actually. And I made sure she wished she’d gone quietly.”
“Not like you to get up close and personal on a job.”
The assassin knocked back her drink and refilled her glass. “I had no choice. My employer wanted a trophy.” She spat out the word. “My crossbow bolt took the bitch in the shoulder. She fell badly from her horse. Lay so still I thought she was dead.”
“She didn’t offer you the chance of a second shot?”
“I’m glad you find it amusing.”
Luker’s headache was getting worse, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension in them. “Seems she put up quite a fight. Who was she? Another pro?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
Jenna shook her head. “Even you wouldn’t want to get mixed up with these people.”
“Then why did you?”
The dice-player guarding the front door had returned to sit with the Kerinec tribesman, Gol. An argument started up over the size of one of the piles of coins. In answer to Luker’s question the assassin said, “My agent cut corners—didn’t ask as many questions as he should have. Too bad for him. He soon regretted—”
“Spare me the details. I know how this story ends.”
Jenna shrugged. “He had it coming. I couldn’t risk the woman’s friends tracing me through him. No loose ends.” She seemed anxious to change the subject. “You still haven’t told me where you disappeared to.”
“Taradh Dor.”
The assassin waited for him to continue. Then, when Luker remained silent, she gulped down another glass of spirits and said, “That’s it? Two years explained away in as many words?”
“There isn’t much to tell.”
“I thought Arandas is where it’s all happening. Strange for you to be so far from the action.” She smiled the crooked smile he remembered so well. “What’s the matter, Luker? Getting a bit old for this, are you?”
He screwed up his face. “I’m thirty-six, not sixty-six.”
“If you say so.”
At that moment the door to the street burst open. Gol stood up so quickly his chair toppled over behind him. Jenna was also on her feet, a dagger appearing in her right hand. A gust of wind blew rain through the doorway and set the torches flickering. Outside, all was darkness.
A few heartbeats passed, but no one entered.
Then the spell broke, and Gol strode over to the door and slammed it shut. Jenna released her breath and sat down again.
“Bit edgy, aren’t we?” Luker said. “You’ve spent so long in the shadows, you’ve started jumping at them.”
The assassin stabbed her blade into the tabletop and looked at him askance like she thought he might have been the one who opened that door—with his Will. “Why have you come back, Luker? You still haven’t told me.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t find what I was looking for on Taradh Dor.”
“Which was?”
“Never worked that out. Hoped I’d know it when I found it.”
“I could have saved you the trouble of looking. The place is a shithole.”
“No arguments there. Whole Shroud-cursed island smells of fish. As for the islanders themselves … miserable bastards, the lot of them. Use the same word for ‘stranger’ as they do for ‘blood enemy.’”
Jenna threw back another glass of spirits. Her cheeks were becoming rosy. “So what happens now? Are you going back to the Guardians?”
Luker told her of his meeting with Gill. The assassin listened without interrupting, her face expressionless. When he finished she said, “You’re going to look for this Book?”
There was something in her voice he could not place, but the way his skull was pounding he was in no fit state to think on it. “I’m going to look for Kanon,” he corrected her. “If his trail leads me to the Book, so be it. If it doesn’t…”
“And if it leads to Kanon’s grave?”
The argument between Gol and his companion was growing more heated. Luker had to raise his voice to speak over them. “Not a chance. Kanon’s too sharp to get caught up in the war with the Kalanese.”
“What about this mage he’s chasing?”
“You mean, could Mayot Mencada have done for him?” Luker shook his head. “Kanon survived everything the Black Tower threw at him on the night of the Betrayal. Never met a mage yet who could match him.”
Jenna pursed her lips. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“Is that allowed?” Luker regretted the words even as he spoke them.
The assassin scowled, and for an instant the Guardian thought she would get up and walk away. Instead she reached for the bottle of spirits and poured herself another drink. The silence dragged out. Jenna took a hairband from a pocket and tied her hair in a ponytail. Her expression was contemplative. When she finally looked back at Luker he could see she had made a decision. “I’m coming with you.”
It took a few heartbeats for her words to sink in. Just when I thought I was done with surprises for today. “Why?” Luker said. “You don’t even know Kanon.”
“This isn’t about Kanon. I’ve been thinking of leaving Arkarbour for a while. Now seems like a good time.”
“Not to visit Arandas, it isn’t.”
“That’s not where I’m heading.”
“Then where?”
Jenna looked away. “Why don’t you let me worry about that.”
She doesn’t even know, Luker realized. She’s running, and she doesn’t care where to. Clearly the assassin was more concerned about staying put in Arkarbour than she was about bumping into a Kalanese soulcaster on the Gollothir Plains. What in Shroud’s name has she got herself caught up in? Luker opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. He knew better than to ask questions when Jenna was in this mood. Always did like her secrets. “You should know I’m not traveling alone,” he said. “There’ll be two others coming.”
“Are you afraid to be seen with me?”
“Should I be?”
“They don’t need to know who I am.”
“And if they recognize you?”
“I don’t leave witnesses,” Jenna snapped. “I also don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Luker searched her eyes for a moment before leaning back against the wall. Guess that’s settled. Now he thought about it, it might not be such a bad thing having Jenna along. It was three years since they’d made that fateful voyage south from Mercerie. Luker had been sent there to eliminate Keebar Lana, an Erin Elalese senator who’d turned traitor. The Guardian had tracked him down to a mansion in Mercerie’s Temple Quarter, but when he climbed to the roof of the Sender’s shrine opposi
te he found Jenna already perched in the one place that gave a clear view of the house’s entranceway. It was probably only the sudden appearance of Lana at his front door that had stopped the two of them coming to blows.
Jenna had insisted on taking the killing shot at Lana. After, as the night erupted with the shouts of his guards, Luker and Jenna had parted without a word. By pure chance they’d met again on the road to Koronos, though the assassin had needed convincing that Luker wasn’t following her. Later he found out she’d been spotted fleeing the shrine, and was forced to leave Mercerie when Lana’s sorcerer, Peledin Kan, began slaughtering every female assassin in the city. The demons he’d sent to pursue her had caught up to her just as she and Luker were renewing their acquaintance outside some nameless village—just as she was training her crossbow on him, in fact. Three years on, she still hadn’t thanked him for stepping in to help against her hunters, and even after the demons were dispatched, the journey to Arkarbour had been something of a bumpy ride.
But then anything beat traveling with just a Breaker and a mage for company.
“We leave at dawn,” Luker said at last. “Doesn’t give you much time to get ready.”
“I’m ready now,” Jenna replied. This time, her crooked smile was forced. “Can’t stand tearful good-byes.”
Meaning you’ve got about as many friends in this Shroud-cursed city as I have. Luker drained his tankard and stood up awkwardly, the backs of his knees pressing against the bench. “We’re meeting tonight at the tenth bell. Imperial Stables by the North Gate. I’m going to get some rest.” He glanced at the near-empty bottle of spirits on the table. “You should do the same.”
“Yes, Father,” Jenna muttered. She looked at the door. “And if anyone out there is still following you…”
“I’ll deal with him. If he trailed me here, though, he may have seen you arrive. Watch your back.”
“Always.”
* * *
Romany despised forests: the roots and brambles that tripped her; the mud that sucked at her sandals; the needleflies that seemed attracted to her skin as if she were smeared in blood honey. It was remarkable, she mused, that so many trees could exist in such a hot climate, but then, as she knew from her studies as an acolyte, the ketar and wolsatta trees that made up the Forest of Sighs were uniquely adapted to the heat and dryness with their deep root systems and waxy leaves. The priestess sighed. It was strange to think she had been so intrigued by the physiology of the trees when she’d first read about them in the temple library, but nature was always more interesting when considered from the comfort of an easy chair.