Legends and Liars

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Legends and Liars Page 9

by Julia Knight


  Bakar rose to face him, and the heat of his gaze was a lunatic furnace. “Because you’re my son, Petri. You always were, and a responsible father chastises his son. He doesn’t kill him.” He looked over Petri’s shoulder to the man behind. “Take him to the Shrive, but be no rougher than you need.”

  A gun jabbed into the back of Petri’s neck, and he didn’t resist when other hands dragged his arms up behind his back, when they cuffed him, even when they thrust him into the corridor and then out of the building on the way to the terror of the Shrive.

  Chapter Eight

  Alicia made her careful way through the maze of the magicians’ part of the university. It had taken her painstaking years to learn where everything was; she could have walked the halls blindfold and still got to where she needed to go.

  She had her instructions from Sabates and she intended to carry them out, though maybe tweak them a little for her own ends. Sabates had been focused on this one thing for so long, he was blind to almost everything else. Maybe that was his one weakness, and she’d spent a long time looking for weakness in him, somewhere she could force in a blade and crack him open.

  She turned a corner straight into a commotion. A group of the rather ineffective university guards milled about, unsure what to do. Only one seemed to have any clue–an older man who seemed as out of place here as a shark. He still stood tall and proud, the three interlocking scars on his cheek vivid in the light. A life-warrior, one sworn from birth to serve his lord, his only god, who thought dying for him the greatest honour he could earn. Under a sleeve she could make out another scar from the cuffs that had bound him to his life-mate, another warrior, for many years until they proved their worth. As this one had, if the cheek scars were any testament. Proud and honourable to a fault, all of them, barely even looking at any not in their caste. Only their king had their devotion. Yet this one had betrayed that. His most prominent feature was his nose, or lack of it. Now it was just a scarred and gaping hole, the worst fate for any life-warrior, leaving him open to ridicule and scorn, to debasement and a life of drudgery. Had left this one with the task of overseeing men the army wouldn’t have or the courts had decided needed some discipline in their lives. Poor subordinates for one who’d once been one of the best warriors that Ikaras had to offer.

  She wondered what he’d done to earn it and how she could use it–him–for her own ends. Honour, she’d found, was an easy thing to twist.

  “Wind and sodding water!” a sergeant shouted at a group by Sabates’ door. “Stop, just stop. You. Yes, you with the face like a bag of spuds. Start at the beginning.”

  “I–I–I–” The potato-faced boy couldn’t get any words out to start with, until he looked at the floor and took a deep breath. “The alarm went off on the south door about one in the morning. We searched everywhere, but we couldn’t find anyone.”

  “And no one thought to come and find me?” The life-warrior’s voice came softly from behind the sergeant, spooking even that bluff man to silence. Alicia tried not to smile at how the boy tried to shrink back but was subtly pushed forward by the ones behind him. A life-warrior, even a disgraced one with no nose, was not a man to be trifled with.

  “Um, no, sir. Two of the magicians came to look, but they couldn’t see anyone either and they said the alarm was probably just faulty, so, um, well they are magicians, sir.”

  “And you didn’t want to get fried to a crisp.” A world-weary sigh from the warrior as though the magicians he was supposed to help protect were the bane of his existence. “Then what?”

  “And then,” Alicia said, moving smoothly between Spud-Face and the warrior, “even though they stepped up patrols, someone got into Sabates’ office. More than one someone. Your name, warrior?”

  His eyes snapped to her, took in the gloves and he nodded, eyes alight–with that one title she’d offered him a hint of his former glory, as though she hadn’t noticed the ruin of his face.

  “Gerlar is my name,” he said. He didn’t back down, not even from a magician. “You knew and did nothing?”

  She allowed herself a slow smile, which made Gerlar look as though he wished honour would allow him a pace backwards, but he checked himself as she knew he would. Gerlar had lost enough dignity, and he’d do nothing that might make him lose more in front of these green boys, that might make his hold over them weaker. “Oh, not nothing. But I wasn’t here, so what could I do? I only learned of it when I got back here this morning. But I can help you. If you’ll help me.”

  Gerlar narrowed his eyes, but he grunted what might have been a yes and growled at the guards to “Leave us alone, and get and do your jobs.”

  It didn’t take long before they were alone next to a ruined door and the vestiges of what looked like a tree.

  “Well?” Gerlar growled.

  Again she smiled. She might need this gruff bastard before she was through. “Let me see in there and then perhaps I can tell you more.”

  He studied her for some moments before he answered. “Sabates is away until next week. Escorting the delegation from Reyes. Orgull had to send someone important. Annoyed him no end.”

  She chuckled–everything pissed off Orgull, as Gerlar no doubt well knew. “Well then. Looks like someone or several someones knew that he was away and took their chance. Wait, just a moment.”

  The scalpel was, as always, within easy reach, stashed in a little sheath in the cuff of her glove. Only a small nick–she didn’t need much. She was pretty sure who’d been in here anyway; she’d already spoken to some of the servants and had a good description of Vocho and his sister and servant. A life-warrior would never think of talking to lowly servants to find out what they knew. Subterfuge and subtlety were dishonourable and anyone not a life-warrior beneath notice except their king.

  Alicia, on the other hand, found it helpful always to know the person who knew the most in any place. Here, it was Cook, whose staff told her every little thing they knew, everything they saw and heard when they served dinner in the private rooms. Cook was like a spider, feeling a tingle on a thread and reeling it in, baiting webs with kitchen maids or butlers, manipulating students who owed her money or favours. Armies were ruled by their stomachs, and so were servants and universities. And who did Cook owe? Exactly. So Alicia had a good idea about at least part of what had happened, and the tree gave her another clue. Esti had been a thorn in her side for years, in more ways than one. Who else could make a tree grow from a seed in moments? Who else had a grudge against Sabates?

  Really, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, but Gerlar likely wasn’t a genius in anything except bashing heads together no matter how elegantly or honourably. The magic would make a good show, might get him on her side, and might even help her track down the little bastard that was Vocho. A few drops of blood on the floor by the remains of the tree. Alicia muttered under her breath, and there, plain as plain. Esti had been in here. How had she got in? Didn’t matter. Another few drops over by the desk, and Vocho’s face wavered in front of her eyes.

  “What’s missing?” she asked Gerlar, but she was fairly certain she knew the answer.

  “Don’t know yet, ma’am. Won’t know until Sabates gets back.”

  “Oh, I think we can guess, Gerlar.” Alicia straightened up and wiped away a stray smudge of blood from the sleeve of her dress. She had a good idea. Esti’s book, her life’s work, which she was desperate to get back. What Sabates was blackmailing her with perhaps–he thought Alicia didn’t know, but he always had underestimated her. She wondered if there had been anything else in that safe, what secrets the old bastard was keeping from her. Worth finding out.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Get your men, and I use that term loosely, to see who they can find. They’ll be looking for a man and a woman, Reyens. She’ll be easier to spot, as she’s fair haired. Whatever you do, don’t let your men attack them. They’ll die in heartbeats. I think perhaps they may have a magician with them, a renegade. Find them, and w
hen you do report back to me, and me alone. No taking them to the king’s dungeons, no charging them as spies, no alerting them to the fact they’ve been found. Understand?”

  He nodded and left her on her own in the office. She closed the door with care, stepped around the remains of Esti’s tree and sat herself at the desk.

  She drummed her fingers. This wasn’t quite how she’d intended it, but she could make it work. Of course she could. She’d spent years planning this, and one little glitch wasn’t going to stop her now. All she needed to do was find Vocho and Esti before Sabates did. The tattoo was being irritatingly hard to find–shoddy work by Sabates, she thought. Perhaps she just needed to concentrate harder. She pulled the scalpel from its hiding place and set to work.

  Kacha rubbed at the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. No matter how much she tried to persuade Vocho they needed Esti’s help, as far as he was concerned, the sooner every magician died, the better. Against his protests, sulks and outbursts, they’d left for their rooms with the promise that Esti would see what she could do. Cospel was to wait with her, keep an eye on her. It’d take some time, she said, and Kacha and Vocho had plenty else to do.

  After trying to pick a fight with Kacha, Vocho had finally left their rooms just about sunset, when the dazzle of the light lessened, turned into mellow reds and yellows across the city, and the lamps lit up, festooning the buildings in blue and green and gold. Kacha was pretty sure he was going to get himself rip-snortingly drunk but didn’t blame him. The only reason she didn’t join him was because, without Cospel about, one of them needed to keep a clear head.

  Besides which, there were things to think about, and she did that better without Vocho around. She opened a window and sat on the wide sill, enjoying the breeze that wafted up from the docks, which were far enough away not to smell too rank. From here she had a good view of the bar over the road where Vocho was trying his best to show off in a language he couldn’t really speak. He was doing pretty well with sign language and posing.

  Oh yes, lots to think on. Tattoos, magicians, trust. She was still thinking hard when the sun finally set in a shower of sparks in the glass, and a figure came along the alley. Kacha didn’t pay too much attention at first. The woman came slowly along the way, as though looking for something. Or someone. Kacha sat up and paid more attention. Gloves, the woman was wearing gloves. Anywhere else that would mean nothing, but right here and now it meant trouble. Especially when she paused outside the bar and peered in to where Vocho was using the thrust of a full jug to make some drink-addled point.

  Kacha didn’t hesitate–out of the window, up onto the roof, quiet as a cat. The tiles were glass but dark enough. The lights in them had failed years before, and apparently no one knew how to fix them, which was one reason Kass had decided this was where they were going to lodge. Just in case of an event like this. The glass was slippery under her boots, but she’d trod on worse, and a handy chimney for her hand helped her balance.

  No doubt about it now. Kacha moved until she was above the woman and could see the writhing marks on her hands when the gloves came off. A quick glance showed her that Vocho had noticed the magician too, though he was making a good effort at not showing it. He flicked a look at the window Kass had been sitting in, noticed her absence, let his gaze travel upwards. She nodded and, without a moment’s hesitation, leaped from the roof.

  The fall jarred her, but she rolled, let the momentum carry her along and pop her up right behind the magician, sword already half out of its scabbard. Perfect positioning. Just in time to see Vocho barge out of the inn, sword in one hand, jug swinging for the magician in the other. Light spilled out with him, and he got a good look at the woman, which stopped him in his tracks.

  “Vocho, dearest,” the magician said. “If you’re there, then Kacha is right behind me, correct?”

  “Bloody right I am.” Kass aimed a blow for the back of the woman’s head with the hilt of her sword, but it never connected because the magician wasn’t there, leaving Kass off balance for all of half a second as she recovered.

  Half a second Alicia used. She ducked forward and to one side to avoid Kass’s next blow, neatly avoiding Vocho’s jug, which was trying to connect with her forehead, and she already had her scalpel out. The stench of cooking blood made Kass gag but it was the light that stopped her. Uncountable pinpricks of light stabbed out of the glass surrounding them into her eyes, leaving her blind and groping.

  She swung her sword anyway, and it connected with something but she couldn’t be sure what. Vocho swore viciously and something shattered–the jug because now sour beer mingled with the smell of blood.

  The lights dimmed and Kass could see again, but it wasn’t encouraging. Alicia stood with blood dripping down one arm, her lip curled. Black marks wriggled over her hands, and Kass tried not to look but it was impossible. Noose, sword, guillotine. None of the pictures had anything to do with living, and the feeling came over her that death was inevitable, not just in some far future but right now.

  Vocho’s voice cut in, shouting but faint as though he was far away, edged with panic. “You just stay away from me. You stay the fuck away and I won’t slice you to bits.”

  The markings changed, turned into Vocho and Kacha, no doubt about it, before they exploded into little shards of nothing. Her eyes were full of the markings, couldn’t seem to see anything else, so she went for them, for the hands. Take a magician’s hands and what was she good for? Kass lunged forward, not thinking about anything except stopping those hands, slicing away the markings that seemed to be mocking her. Again, the magician wasn’t there; she was ten feet away, laughing.

  “Stupid duellists, always thinking with your swords, not your heads.”

  Vocho edged sideways and, seeing what he was about, Kacha moved the other way. Trap her in the middle and quickly.

  Kacha managed to drag her eyes away from the markings to see what was actually in Alicia’s hands. A scrap of paper, with something smeared in dark blood on it.

  “Voch.”

  “I see it.” His voice had lost all its bluster, came flat and heavy across the alley.

  “You misunderstand me,” Alicia said. “I haven’t come to kill you, or you’d be dead already, dead as soon as I saw Vocho.”

  A fair point, Kacha had to admit, if it were true, but that didn’t stop her. If only they could shut her up, they might have a chance.

  “What do you want then?” Vocho asked. “An invitation to tea?”

  Alicia laughed at that, but it sounded forced. “Hardly. Maybe you’ll find out, maybe you won’t.”

  A sudden flash, and what felt like a hot hand drove Kacha against the wall behind her, smashing all the breath from her lungs and even making her drop her sword. She bent to grope for it even before her eyes recovered from the purple and blue splotches that wavered in front of them.

  A hand on her arm made her swing, but she stopped just in time to avoid punching Vocho.

  “Cogs, Voch, you almost scared me silly. You OK?”

  “Yeah. Booze kind of numbs things a bit. Probably hurt like blazes tomorrow though. You?”

  Kacha gave herself a quick once-over. Nothing seemed to be broken, though she was going to have a bruise like a dinner plate on her hip tomorrow from where her knife had got caught between her and the wall. “Good enough.” She blinked hard to rid herself of the last of the splotches and peered down the alley. Nothing. No one. Not for long though. Alicia knew where they were living. The Reyes delegation was due in the city tomorrow at dawn, and with it would be Sabates, she could almost guarantee it. Perhaps Alicia didn’t want them dead; with that tattoo still on Vocho’s back maybe he would be used again.

  “Come on. Time to pack up and move,” she said.

  Alicia watched from the darkness as Vocho and Kacha packed their meagre belongings. It was all starting to fit together rather neatly. They would go to Esti’s, she was sure of it, and then she’d find out where the damned woman had hidden, what h
ad been in that safe and what Sabates was planning. Something he was keeping from Alicia, she was sure of it. Some plan that left her by the wayside and Esti in her place, which she’d worked very hard to avoid.

  She’d get rid of Esti permanently, then Domenech, who she was sure would find this pair of scoundrels. Domenech and Eneko were the two men she most wanted dead. When she had what she wanted from them at least. Eneko was easy to find if not easy to persuade to give her what she wanted. Domenech… he’d come to these two, she was sure, he seemed to have grown fond of them for some unfathomable reason. Just a matter of waiting. Alicia beckoned to Gerlar, who’d kept out of the way during the fight.

  “Watch, follow, see where they go. They’ll be looking for me but not for you. Do try to be discreet, won’t you?” She took a hard look at the missing nose, the man’s way of standing, the scars that would mark him as a life-warrior to any Ikaran. “All right, that may be difficult.”

  He stared straight ahead. “My job is now at the university, not working for you.”

  She paced around him, noting the lack of even a wooden ceremonial knife. Lower than the night-soil men in the scheme of things. There were dogs that had better social standing than a life-warrior with no honour, or at least he’d think that way, as would every other Ikaran. Ikaran life involved a thousand little jugglings of rank a day, judging whether you were higher, lower or equal to the person next to you and adjusting your manner accordingly. Alicia found it fascinating to watch in others, interesting to manipulate but utterly boring to have to follow herself.

  “Gerlar, how would you like to get your honour back? Things will be changing at the university. Soon enough you’ll have a new master. Besides, these two broke into the university, stole from Sabates right under your nose and escaped with barely a hitch. Surely it’s your duty?”

  He turned a cold eye on her. “My duty would be to arrest them now.”

 

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