From a pool of shadow ahead a voice called out.
'Do you have it?'
Sorka jumped, startled by the voice. He struggled to remember what he had been ordered to say.
'Yes, if you have the money.'
'I have it,' said the man. 'Put the box down and back away from it.'
That wasn't how this was supposed to happen and Sorka struggled to think of what to say. 'Show me the money and then I'll do it.'
'No.'
Unused to such flat refusals to cooperate, Sorka wasn't sure what to do next. He worked for Chekatilo, therefore when he gave orders they were obeyed quickly. He decided to play along with this fool and wrapped a hand round the hilt of his dagger, sure that he could deal with him if he tried to pull something funny. There was, after all, only one way out of this alley, and that meant going through him.
Not an easy task for anyone, he knew.
'Very well,' he said removing the box from below his jerkin and placing it on the ground. He fished the key from around his neck and dropped it next to the box.
The man moved from the shadows, his face obscured by a hooded cloak and knelt by the box, swiftly unlocking it. Gripping a dark amulet around his neck, he lifted the lid a fraction.
A soft green glow emanated from the box, casting a spectral light over the man and throwing his shadow onto the wall behind him.
To Sorka it looked as though the shadow writhed with a life of its own, no longer mimicking the man it belonged to.
He frowned and blinked to clear his head of the bizarre image, but the mischievous shadow continued in its dance, the darkness of its head swelling as twin horns formed at its brow.
He opened his mouth to comment on this when the kneeling man shot the top of his head off with a wheel-lock pistol.
VII
THE PISTOL SHOT echoed from the mouth of the alleyway and minutes later the dark cloaked man carefully eased his head around the corner. The moon slid from behind the clouds, casting its monochrome light onto the snow-covered street and illuminating his face.
He checked both ways before stepping confidently into the street and making his way back to the centre of the city.
From the opposite side of the street, two men swathed in furs watched him go.
'He shot Sorka.' said the smaller of the two men.
Vassily Chekatilo nodded, rubbing a hand over his chin and tugging at the ends of his moustache. 'Yes, Rejak, I would have done the same thing.'
'We should stop him!' protested Rejak. 'He's trying to cheat you.'
Chekatilo shook his head. 'No, leave him. I am happy to be rid of that damned box and wish I had never agreed to obtain it. And anyway, I think it may profit us more in the long run knowing who we actually obtained it for.'
'But what about Sorka?'
'I will shed no tears over Sorka.' said Chekatilo. 'He followed orders well enough, but there are plenty more like him and he will be no great loss to my organisation.'
'Should we see if he's dead?'
'No, Rejak, leave him. The dogs have to eat too.'
Rejak shrugged. He nodded in the direction of the man making off with the metal box and said, 'What does someone like him want with something that dangerous?'
'What indeed?' agreed Chekatilo, wondering why Pjotr Losov, chief advisor to the Tzarina of Kislev, would want a box containing a fist-sized chunk of warpstone.
VIII
KASPAR WAS IMPRESSED at how little time it took Matthias Gerhard to come looking for the supplies from the riverboats when they failed to arrive at his warehouses. Once the stevedores had finished unloading the boats, Kaspar had sent them on their way and every one of them had quickly vanished into the night. He ordered the riverboat crews to return to the Empire and, once they had left, the docks became eerily quiet, the water slapping against the stonework of the quayside the only sound save for the occasional scream and a solitary pistol shot.
They had waited at the quayside for a little over two hours before the clatter of carriage wheels and horses' hooves drew close.
The Knights Panther parted as a red and gold troika rattled across the cobbles to the quayside. Of Kislevite origin, the troika was pulled by three horses harnessed abreast of each other, and even in the dim moonlight Kaspar could see it was one of expensive design and elaborate workmanship. It was not hard to guess where the money appropriated by Matthias Gerhard had gone. Six men armoured in heavy hauberks of thick mail links and carrying long spears sat atop the carriage. As it drew to a halt, the Knights Panther gathered in a ring of steel around the troika, cutting off any escape.
The six guards shot each other hurried glances before reluctantly clambering down.
Kaspar relished their obvious discomfort. By now Matthias Gerhard would know that his missing supplies were not the result of some underlings incompetence and Kaspar smiled mirthlessly as the carriage door opened and a tall man of obvious means stepped onto the quay. He wore a gold headband over his shoulder-length blond hair, an expensive crimson doublet slashed with yellow silk and a furred dolman laced with silver threads. Sovereign rings decorated each finger and thick golden chains of office hung around his neck, proving that Matthias Gerhard had wealth, if not taste.
The man's unease was clear and Kaspar decided to attack and put him off balance further before he could rally a defence. He dismounted from his horse and strode towards the merchant.
'Matthias Gerhard, you are a thieving bastard and I should hand you over to the Chekist right now for what you've done.'
Despite Kaspar's venomous tone, Gerhard recovered quickly. He was an influential man in a city that did not suffer fools gladly, and no one became as rich as he had without the capacity to keep his wits about him.
'Am I to assume that you are Ambassador von Velten and these are your knights?' he asked.
'You would be correct in that assumption.'
'Then might I enquire as to why you have detained the Emperor's supplies here?' said Gerhard. 'They should be on their way to my warehouses now. There are many in this city who would gladly take the chance to appropriate these goods for their own ends, as I am sure you know.'
'Oh, yes, I know sure enough,' snapped Kaspar. 'Teugenheim's journal and letters I received from Altdorf have told me all I need to know about those kinds of people.'
'Then you will have no objection to my summoning men to have them taken to a place of safe storage,' continued Gerhard smoothly.
'Don't you understand, Gerhard?' said Kaspar, brandishing the letter from the Imperial Commissariat. 'It's over. I know what you've been up to and I'll see you swing from the end of a rope for what you've done.'
'Really?' replied Gerhard. 'What do you think you know?'
'That you've been reporting these supplies as stolen and then selling them on. Tell me how else you can account for the sheer volume of supplies that have gone "missing"?'
'Herr ambassador,' said Gerhard patiently. 'I assure you, the goods the Emperor has sent north are being thieved by parties other than myself. I have all the proper paperwork from the city watch to prove it.'
'I don't need to prove it, I know what you've been doing. I've seen it a hundred times before in the army. Crooked quartermasters keeping back supplies and selling them on to the highest bidder. You're nothing but a common thief!'
'Are you trying to make me angry ambassador?'
'Aye.' admitted Kaspar, feeling his own temper fray 'Then you have been a soldier too long, herr ambassador. I am a civilised man, and unlike you, I have learned to control my anger and settle my differences without resorting to violence. Perhaps you should too.'
Kaspar realised that he would get nowhere with Gerhard like this, and grabbed the merchant's tunic, dragging him over to the water's edge. Gerhard's guards stepped forward, but the Knights Panther closed in and prevented them from taking action.
'Really, ambassador!' spluttered Gerhard. 'This is outrageous!'
'I tend to agree with you there, Matthias.' said Kaspar, fina
lly reaching the steps that led down to the dark, icy waters of the Urskoy.
'Herr ambassador!' pleaded Gerhard as he realised what Kaspar intended. 'There is really no need for this.'
'Ah, well, that's where our opinions differ then.' said Kaspar and pushed the merchant from the quayside.
Matthias Gerhard splashed into the water, breaking the surface seconds later and thrashing the river white in his panic. He coughed and screamed, his cries for help gurgling as he swallowed water. The merchant desperately trod water, but his heavy clothes and thick chains conspired to drag him down and his head disappeared beneath the surface of the water again. A torrent of bubbles churned the water as the merchant's head broke through once more.
'Please!' he yelled, finally grasping hold of the stone steps. He wheezed breathlessly, gratefully sucking air into his searing lungs until Kaspar trod on his fingers with the wooden heel of his riding boots. The merchant wailed and slid back under the water.
'Get me one of his guards' spears.' he called up to the quay. He could see Kurt Bremen silhouetted against the brightness of the moon, sensing the knight's displeasure, but he was past caring. Getting the job done was all that mattered now and if he had to resort to violence, well that was too bad.
If Gerhard believed he was a thuggish soldier, then he would behave like one.
'Here.' said Bremen icily.
'Thank you, Kurt,' said the ambassador as Gerhard thrashed his way to the surface once more. Kaspar saw that the merchant was all but spent and held the spear out to him, tantalisingly just out his reach.
The man struggled to grab the wooden shaft of the spear, but each time his fingers brushed it, Kaspar lifted it away.
'Are you ready to talk without feeding me dung now, Matthias?' asked Kaspar.
'Yes!' screamed the merchant, and Kaspar let him grab the spear shaft.
He hauled him close to the steps and gestured for his knights to come and lift the sodden man from the water.
Gerhard rolled onto his side and puked dirty water, his face blue from the freezing temperature of the Urskoy. He wept and as Kaspar knelt beside the gasping merchant, he could smell that Gerhard had soiled himself in terror.
He brushed wet hair from the man's face and said, 'Now that I have your undivided attention, I think we are ready to talk. You have been selling on the Emperor's supplies have you not?'
Gerhard coughed, but nodded slowly.
'Good,' continued Kaspar. 'Now we are getting somewhere. That's over now. Everything you still have and all that arrives from the Empire from now on is going to get to those who desperately need it. Do you understand me?'
'Yes, yes, I do.'
'Now, while you deserve to be thrown in the deepest, darkest cell for what you've done, I still need you to coordinate the distribution of the supplies to the soldiery and people of this city. You will work with my aide, Stefan, and trust me when I say that he will know if you fall back on your bad old ways.'
Kaspar stood, massaging his stiff knee and climbed the steps to the quay.
Kurt Bremen awaited him and said quietly, 'Ambassador, may I speak freely?'
'Of course, Kurt.'
'Ambassador, I am uncomfortable with these... brutal methods you seem to favour. Is it really fitting for an emissary of the Emperor to be seen behaving in such a manner.'
Kaspar nodded. 'I understand your objections, Kurt, really I do. It gives me no pleasure to have to resort to such methods, but sometimes a show of force is necessary to get results from those who believe themselves above notions of honesty and duty.'
The knight looked unconvinced and said, 'My knights and I are the instrument by which your will is carried out, Ambassador von Velten, but we must enforce that will in accordance with the vows of our order's code of honour. That is our purpose here and while we are bound to your cause, we cannot perform our duties properly if you insist on behaving like this. You must allow us to do our job without violating our code of honour.'
'Of course, Kurt, but perhaps Gerhard was right.' said Kaspar. 'Perhaps I have been a soldier too long for an ambassadorial position, but such is my lot and this is the only way I know to carry out my duty to the Emperor.'
Bremen nodded curtly, though Kaspar could tell that the knight did not accept what he had just said.
'What do you want done with Gerhard?' asked Bremen, changing the subject.
'Take him back to his lodgings and get him cleaned up. I want some of your men to keep watch on him and make sure he doesn't try to leave the city. I'll send Stefan over in the morning to see what's left of the supplies Gerhard stole so we can begin getting them to our men.'
Bremen turned away and began issuing orders to his men as Kaspar returned to his horse, suddenly feeling the weight of every one of his fifty-four years.
CHAPTER SIX
I
THE SMELL OF cooking meat drifted through the campsite of the Wissenland arquebusiers. Soldiers chewed on fresh baked bread and cheese and washed it down with mugs of Nordland ale. Laughter and the excited babble of conversation surrounded every cookfire and the rekindled spirit evident in the Empire soldiers was a joy to behold, thought Kaspar.
This same scene had been repeated several times over the last five days as Kaspar, Anastasia and wagons driven by the embassy soldiers had delivered much needed supplies to the weary and hungry soldiers of the city. After inventorying Gerhard's warehouses, Stefan had discovered a veritable cornucopia of vital goods and had, together with the disgraced merchant, begun the task of getting them to those who so desperately needed them. Kaspar had asked Sofia to keep a watchful eye on the merchant as well, as he did not want the man to catch a fever from his long immersion in the frozen waters of the Urskoy. No, Gerhard would not escape his punishment that easily.
He and Anastasia sat atop the buckboard of an empty wagon, winding their way through the thousands who camped outside the walls, making their way back to the city after yet another trip from the warehouses of Matthias Gerhard. The afternoon's light was deepening to the purple of dusk and Kaspar had no wish to be outside any longer than necessary as the temperature began to drop rapidly. Four mounted Knights Panther rode alongside them, pennons snapping from their silver lance tips in the stiff afternoon breeze and the smiles and the blessings from the crowds of refugees were a refreshing change to the guarded hostility he had encountered in Kislev thus far.
'This is incredible, Kaspar, the difference this has made.' said Anastasia, wrapped tightly in a white cloak edged in snow leopard fur. Her cheeks were red with the cold, but her eyes sparkled as she spoke.
'I know.' smiled Kaspar, pleased at the wholesale change in the demeanour of the soldiers camped around Kislev.
'Where did all this come from?' asked Anastasia.
'A thieving swine from Hochland named Matthias Gerhard.' replied Kaspar. 'He'd been hoarding it all for himself and his warehouses were full to bursting with all manner of stolen goods: weapons, tarpaulins, boots, uniforms, grain, salt beef, black powder, shot, billhooks, pioneer tools and even three cannons from the Imperial Gunnery school.'
'And he had no intention of sharing any of it?'
'No, Anastasia, not one shred of it. Not without payment anyway.'
'I told you already, call me Ana. All my friends do.'
'Very well.' chuckled Kaspar. 'I cannot refuse the word of a lady.'
'Good.' said Anastasia with mock sternness. 'Make sure you remember that, Kaspar von Velten. As to Herr Gerhard, I hope you'll be making sure he'll be punished.'
'Oh yes.' assured Kaspar. 'I'm no quartermaster, and if I didn't need him to help coordinating the logistics of this operation I'd have left him in the river with the rest of the scum.'
Anastasia leaned into him as the wagon made its way up the Gora Geroyev, and Kaspar enjoyed the feeling of her body next to his. He had been surprised to receive the letter from Anastasia offering to help in whatever way she could in delivering the supplies to the soldiers and refugees until he remembered Sofi
a telling him of her patronage of various almshouses and hospices. Her kindness to those less fortunate that herself was renowned throughout Kislev and, truth be told, Kaspar was not sorry to renew his acquaintance with her again. His run-in with Sasha Kajetan notwithstanding, he was determined to see her again, and this just gave him a convenient excuse. The last two days they had spent together helping to distribute food had been just the tonic he had needed to coax him from his growing frustrations.
'But once this war is over, I'll see him swing from the gallows pole in the Konigplatz, have no fear of that.'
'What makes a man turn his back on his country and people to do such a thing?' wondered Anastasia.
Kaspar shook his head. 'I don't know, Ana, I really don't. And to be honest, I don't want to know.'
'Well he deserves the very worst punishment that can be meted out for his crimes. I know we are supposed to be forgiving, and Shallya teaches us to be merciful, but Gerhard might have doomed us all.'
Kaspar did not reply immediately, intently watching a troop of horsemen training on the snowy ground further out on the steppe at the base of the hill. Some sixty or so men on lithe, long-limbed horses circled a series of stakes hammered into a square pattern that roughly equated the width and breadth of a massed unit of ranked up soldiers. Head-sized sandbags were tied to each stake and as Kaspar watched, the horsemen circled and darted in close, loosing deadly volleys of red-fletched arrows into their targets.
Each volley was fired with lethal accuracy, thudding through the sandbags or hammering into the wooden stakes just below them. Any men being attacked by these warriors would be suffering terribly under such a punishing barrage, losing dozens of men with each volley. Each warrior fired a short horned bow of laminated strips of seasoned wood whose power belied its size, while guiding their horses with their knees. Kaspar was amazed at the level of control each warrior exercised over their mounts, the entire troop moving as though with a single will.
At the head of the horse archers, a warrior in a baggy white shirt and scarlet cavalry britches fired with incredible speed and accuracy, his horse obeying his commands as though it were an extension of his own flesh, like the beasts of the dark forest that were rumoured to be part man, part horse. His long topknot trailed behind him and he whooped with a savage glee as he sent shaft after shaft through the sandbag 'heads'. Twin curved swords were sheathed at his side and Kaspar easily recognised the warrior, Sasha Kajetan.
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