Haunted Warriors: The Rogues 3

by Lian Tanner

  The Harshman looked up. High above him, outlined against the sky, hovered the giant hawk that accompanied him everywhere. It was the strongest bird he had ever known; a ruthless creature that did his bidding, no matter what he asked of it.

  He raised his fist, and the hawk descended in a hurricane of wings.

  The Harshman gripped its legs in his bony fingers, gathered the power he had stolen from a hundred dying souls and said, ‘Follow … The … Children.’

  The hawk gave a cry that echoed across southern Neuhalt, killing the spring grass and sending rabbits bolting for their burrows in terror. Then it raised its wings and, with a dozen mighty downthrusts, lifted the Harshman into the sky.

  The Harshman’s armour clanked. His heart rattled like a walnut shell against his ribs. His iron teeth bared in an awful smile. He might not arrive right on the heels of the children.

  But he would get there much sooner than they expected.

  The Strong-hold of Berren stood on top of a massive rock, with a long, winding road leading up to it. On Duckling’s last visit, Grandpa was still pretending to be the ambassador from the Spavey Isles, and they had driven up the road in a hired street-rig, with Pummel sitting between them.

  This time, they walked, with the black cloud Duckling had seen from afar hanging over their heads like a sour fog. Grandpa, Arms-mistress Krieg and Otte still couldn’t see it. The cat could, though it didn’t seem to affect her. But Pummel and Sooli looked as sick as Duckling felt.

  Sooli clutched the Bayam chicken in her arms and said, ‘This rock is sacred to my people. The castle should never have been built here. It was the beginning of everything going wrong. I wish I was somewhere else.’

  The chicken sighed, as if she agreed. Grandpa, who was trying very hard to sound as if he wasn’t out of breath, murmured, ‘We all wish that, young lady. But here we are, and we must make the best of it. Otte, are you still determined to show yourself at the main gate?’

  Otte wasn’t used to having a wooden leg instead of crutches, and he was limping badly and leaning on Arms-mistress Krieg. But at Lord Rump’s question, he straightened up, set his shoulders and nodded.

  ‘Then you had best brush your hair,’ said Duckling’s grandpa. ‘Pummel, mind that cart. If it runs you over, the rest of us will never get through the gates unseen.’

  Because Duckling and her companions were not the only ones going up the road. At this time of day, it was packed with horse-drawn carts carrying geese, sacks of barley, barrels of ale and wine, baskets of fish, crates of chickens, wheat for grinding and potatoes for baking.

  Hundreds of people lived in the Strong-hold, and the curse stopped them leaving; from birth to death they were trapped inside those high stone walls. There might be sacks of flour and casks of honey in the kitchens, and geese, chickens and pigs in the baileys, but that was nowhere near enough to feed so many people. Without the food carts, the entire population of the Strong-hold would soon starve to death.

  Sooli looked at the drivers, sitting patiently on their carts. ‘Are they not worried about the curse?’ she whispered. ‘Do they not fear getting caught in it when they go through the gates?’

  ‘For a start, they don’t believe it’s a curse,’ replied Duckling. ‘No one does—’

  ‘I know that,’ interrupted Sooli. ‘They believe it is sabotage, and that my people are to blame. Still, do they not fear getting caught?’

  It was Otte who answered her question. ‘The curse only works on outsiders if they stay inside the walls after middle-night. Up until then, they can come and go as they please.’

  ‘That I did not know,’ whispered Sooli, and she looked at the carts with renewed interest.

  Several of the drivers were staring at the cat, who was bigger and uglier than most cats. But they took no notice of the people with her.

  ‘They are used to visitors going up to goggle at the greatest castle in the western hemisphere,’ murmured Lord Rump out of the corner of his mouth. ‘But those visitors do not usually go inside. Pummel, you can get us through the gate unseen, I trust, just as you got us out?’

  Pummel’s fingers strayed towards the pocket of his stolen breeches. ‘I think so. We’ll need to make a Snare. And we’ll have to be careful not to bump into the carts. Or the guards outside the gate.’

  ‘What is a Snare?’ asked Sooli.

  Pummel turned to her eagerly. ‘It’s a spiral of pebbles that people walk into and disappear. I’m not sure how it works, but it’s how we got out past the curse.’

  Duckling shivered at the memory. Stepping into the Snare might have made them invisible, but it had also taken them into a strange half-world that had very nearly trapped them forever.

  ‘That is what my people call a labyrinth,’ said Sooli. And she studied the ground as she walked and picked up pebbles, choosing them carefully and tucking them into her pocket one by one. The chicken murmured at each pebble in a way that gave Duckling goosebumps.

  It was a long way up to the Strong-hold, but at last they came to the final bend. Just before it, Arms-mistress Krieg held up her hand and said, ‘Wait here. I wish to see what lies ahead of us.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ said Lord Rump. ‘But I will go, rather than you.’

  Krieg narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ said Lord Rump, ‘the situation calls for subtlety, not brute force. If there is someone around the bend who needs to be run through with a sword, I will be sure to call you.’

  The arms-mistress glowered at him. ‘I do not trust you, Rump. Twice you have proven yourself false; I will not give you the opportunity to do it a third time.’

  ‘Oh, the injustice of it,’ cried Grandpa, with a wounded expression. ‘I make two honest mistakes and you throw them in my face over and over.’

  ‘Honest?’ Krieg laughed sourly. ‘You were never honest, and your actions were not mistakes—’

  At which point Duckling stopped listening and strolled towards the corner herself, looking just like a visitor come to goggle at the castle. The cat followed her.

  The first time Duckling had seen the Strong-hold up close, she’d pretended it was nothing special. But secretly, she’d been amazed at the sheer size of it. Its outer walls stretched from one end of the sacred rock to the other. Its towers and battlements soared high into the sky. Its stones were as hard and cold as the Harshman’s heart.

  Stop thinking about him, Duckling told herself. Grandpa’s right, he’s a long way behind us. Concentrate on what has to be done now.

  She gaped a little, like the awestruck visitor she was pretending to be, and studied the main gate, which was directly ahead of her. It stood open, as was usual for this time of day, and the long line of carts was waiting to enter, which was also usual.

  ‘But I’ve not seen so many guards before,’ Duckling whispered to the cat.

  ‘Mooore,’ agreed the cat.

  ‘They’re not just checking papers, either. They’re searching those carts, and doing a good job of it, too. What’s going on?’

  There was no answer from the cat, who did not waste words on things she didn’t know. So Duckling wandered back to the others, gawking at the carts and the rock and the city spread out at the foot of it, as if she had nothing on her mind other than sightseeing.

  Lord Rump and Arms-mistress Krieg were still arguing.

  ‘If you do not trust me,’ spluttered Grandpa, as Duckling came within earshot, ‘I will leave. I never stay where I am not wanted.’ He turned to his granddaughter. ‘My dear, this pointless suspicion is too much for me. Say your goodbyes; you and I must look for friendship elsewhere. I thought we had found it here, but I was wrong.’

  He sounded completely sincere. But Duckling knew her grandpa too well.

  ‘They’ve increased the gate guard,’ she reported. ‘And they’re searching every cart that goes in.’

  The hurt expression on Lord Rump’s face vanished, and his eyes sparkled with interest. ‘Are they indeed? Well well well. Thi
ngs grow more interesting by the minute.’

  ‘Do you think they are looking for us?’ asked Sooli, with an anxious glance at the food carts.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Grandpa. ‘Let us see what we can learn.’

  He inspected the line of carts. But before he could speak to any of the drivers, a young man came trotting around the bend and down the road towards them. Lord Rump waved to him, and called out, ‘Herro, a word, if you please?’

  As the young man came closer, Pummel gave a muffled gasp. ‘He’s a Snuffigator.’ He indicated the snouted mask that hung from the young man’s belt, and the iron-tipped staff in his hand. ‘Sooli, don’t let him see you!’

  Sooli pulled the hood closer around her face, and tucked her hands back into the pockets of her coat. Pummel moved with horribly obvious casualness to stand behind Arms-mistress Krieg.

  But the young man didn’t look at Sooli or Pummel. He paused for just long enough to say to Grandpa, ‘I’m sorry, Herro, I can’t stop.’ Then he tried to keep going.

  Lord Rump stepped in front of him with an apologetic smile. ‘We would not dream of keeping you. Just tell us, if you please, are the gates open this morning? We are visitors to your magnificent city, and hope to catch a glimpse of the new Margrave. We have heard most excellent things—’

  ‘You won’t see him,’ interrupted the young man, trying unsuccessfully to edge past.

  ‘Of course we would not want to bother someone so important,’ said Grandpa. ‘But surely we can look through the gates. He might be strolling in the grounds, and be kind enough to honour us with a wave.’

  The young man gave a nervous laugh. ‘You won’t be allowed anywhere near the gates, not today. And not tomorrow either.’

  With that, he managed to slip past Grandpa. But now Krieg blocked his path.

  ‘Why not?’ she demanded.

  Even when she was relaxed, the arms-mistress looked dangerous. But now, with the Strong-hold so close, and Otte under her protection, she was like a bear defending her cub.

  The young man gulped. ‘B-because of the assassins.’

  ‘What assassins?’ snapped Krieg.

  Lord Rump broke in smoothly. ‘What my friend meant to say was, we were shocked to our bootstraps when we heard that the late Margravine was murdered. But we thought the danger was over. Is it not? Should we be concerned for our own safety?’

  The young man hesitated. Then he looked around to make sure no one else was listening, and leaned towards Grandpa. ‘I’m not supposed to say, but it was the Saffies killed the Margravine. And now they’re after the new Margrave.’

  Beside Duckling, Sooli flinched. Otte shook his head, but said nothing.

  ‘We’re checking everyone who goes in,’ continued the young man. ‘Guards weren’t enough to do it on their own, so they called in the Snuffigators. No assassin will get past us, you can be sure of that. The Saffies might be cunning, but we’re trained to watch out for them and their plots. Observation and Vigilance, that’s our motto.’

  He thumped his staff on the road in an important manner, and clapped his right hand to his chest. ‘Gods bless the new Margrave. Gods bless the Faithful Throne.’

  And with those fine words, he at last stepped past Arms-mistress Krieg and continued on down the road.

  As soon as the young man was out of hearing range, Duckling’s grandpa turned to Otte. ‘Now you must change your mind. I cannot say for sure that all these guards and Snuffigators are looking for us, but the risk is too great, and you are too valuable. You will creep in with the rest of us, and I will have no argument about it.’

  A stubborn expression crossed Otte’s face, and despite Grandpa’s words, he began to protest.

  Beside Duckling, Pummel slid his hand into the pocket of his breeches, and took out the leather pouch containing the raashk.

  To Duckling’s eyes, that strange object looked like a tooth with a hole drilled in the middle. According to Sooli, it was an idle-cat tooth – huge and ancient. (Those fierce creatures had been extinct in Neuhalt for at least three hundred years.) But when Pummel put his eye to the hole, the world about him faded. Walls became no thicker than smoke, and he could walk through them. He could see ghosts, too, and walk through them, though he’d only done that once, and apparently it felt so horrible that he hoped never to do it again.

  However, there were things that the raashk could not do. While Grandpa tried to convince Otte that he must not walk openly into the Strong-hold, Pummel whispered to Duckling and the cat, ‘The guards and Snuffigators – are they very close to each other around the gate?’

  ‘Verrry,’ said the cat, too quietly for the drivers of the carts to hear.

  ‘They’re making sure no one gets through unchecked,’ said Duckling. ‘There was a double line of them in places.’

  Sooli, who was listening, said with a worried expression, ‘Then how will we get past them?’

  ‘The raashk,’ said Duckling. ‘Like Pummel told us earlier. We make a Snare and sneak in, as invisible as you please.’

  ‘That was when I thought there were only a few guards,’ said Pummel. ‘I thought we could creep between them. But the raashk won’t take us through living people.’

  ‘Then we make them jump aside for a moment or two,’ said Duckling. ‘I reckon I could do that.’ She thought about it, and pulled a face. ‘But I’d need to be able to see them, which I can’t do from inside a Snare.’

  ‘What about the outer wall?’ asked Sooli. ‘The raashk would take us through it, would it not?’ In her arms, the chicken made a dismayed sound.

  Pummel shook his head. ‘I tried the wall once before. The curse was so tangled up in its stones that not even the raashk could get us through.’

  They looked at the ugly fog that only they could see, and quickly looked away again.

  ‘Sooli, when we were in the salt mines,’ said Duckling, ‘when you saved us from Boz and Rusty – how did you make yourself invisible?’

  ‘I wrapped the shadows around myself,’ said Sooli.

  ‘And you could still see us? Yes, of course you could. Do you reckon we could learn how to do it?’

  ‘It would take too long,’ said Sooli. ‘It takes months of practice.’ Her forehead wrinkled. ‘But perhaps I could put a do-not-see on all of us.’

  The cat pricked her ears and purred. The chicken bobbed her head, as if she approved.

  ‘It is like a misdirection,’ continued Sooli. ‘It makes people’s eyes slide away from something, so they do not notice it. I have only ever done it on small things, like a tunnel entrance. But the great Bayams of olden times could hide a dozen or more people in a do-not-see.’

  She stroked the chicken’s black feathers. ‘And we have one of the great Bayams with us. With her help, Duckling summoned the Grandfather Wind, which has not been done for five hundred years. So I should be able to do it, I think.’

  ‘We could try,’ said Duckling. ‘And I could make the guards jump out of the way so we can get past.’

  By then, Grandpa had argued Otte to a standstill. The younger boy did not look at all happy, but Arms-mistress Krieg wore a relieved expression.

  ‘It is no disgrace to be cautious, Young Ser,’ she said. ‘If I had ever walked headlong into danger, I would be dead a dozen times over.’

  At that, Otte smiled reluctantly. ‘You do not walk headlong into danger, Arms-mistress. You run.’

  Grandpa rubbed his hands together. ‘It is agreed then. Pummel will use the raashk to take all of us into the Strong-hold.’

  ‘No,’ said Pummel. ‘I can’t, not with so many guards on the gate. Sooli is going to make us invisible. Explain it to them, Sooli.’

  Grandpa’s eyes gleamed, as if he had just spotted a diamond necklace and was trying to work out how he could steal it. ‘You can make us invisible, young lady? What a splendid talent. How will you do it?’

  ‘I will show you,’ replied Sooli. ‘But not here.’ She nodded towards the carts, which were still moving very slo
wly up the hill.

  ‘Ah yes,’ murmured Grandpa. ‘So many eyes. Let me see what I can do …’

  Duckling’s grandpa could use his voice so cleverly that he sounded as if he was whispering, when really he was making sure everyone nearby could hear him. That’s what he did now.

  ‘I am not as young as I used to be,’ he said, mopping his forehead with his sleeve. ‘No, do not make a fuss, my friends, I just need to sit down for a little while. Over there, in the shade, perhaps? The sun is very warm for this time of year.’ And he pointed to a small cluster of trees that clung to the rock.

  The nearest drivers looked at them, then looked away, uninterested. Grandpa led the way to the trees, leaning heavily on Arms-mistress Krieg. But as soon as they were hidden from the carts, he straightened up and nodded to Sooli. ‘Show us what you can do, young lady.’

  Sooli passed the chicken to Pummel and waved them all into a tight circle. Then, with great concentration, she picked something out of the air and began to move her hands in complicated patterns.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ whispered Duckling.

  Even without looking through the raashk, Pummel could see things that Duckling couldn’t. He squinted at Sooli’s hands. ‘She’s weaving silver threads. Making them into something like a cat’s cradle.’

  Sooli tied a knot, dusted her hands and blew towards each of them in turn. ‘Now she’s dropped it over our heads,’ whispered Pummel.

  The chicken squawked. The cat purred. But Arms-mistress Krieg screwed up her eyes and said, ‘I can still see you all.’

  ‘That is because you are inside the do-not-see,’ said Sooli. ‘It will be different for those outside.’ Then she added, so quietly that only Duckling heard her, ‘At least, I hope it will.’

  Pummel tucked the chicken more firmly under his arm, and gripped his staff. Arms-mistress Krieg took Otte up on her back, so the sound of his wooden leg on the cobblestones wouldn’t give them away.

  ‘Stay close to me,’ said Sooli. ‘Do not wander apart, whatever you do. And do not make a sound. They should not be able to see us, but they might still hear us.’