Knives of Bastion
By Harry Leighton
An Empire Falls Book Two
To Mr. BH: while you might not like this book you were an important part of its creation, letting me see I had to be true to myself and write what I thought was best. Good teachers are a rare thing, but you knew how to challenge not blunt, inspire not repel.
Author’s Website
https://harryleighton.com/
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Epilogue
Prologue
A politician once said the greatest thing about Bastion was how you could make a fortune even if you started poor, and Raxar agreed entirely. He looked down at his accounts book, saw the figures growing ever higher, and knew that even if he hadn’t been left a fortune by his father he could have made one himself.
Unfortunately for Raxar, he’d remembered the quote wrong.
The merchant now stood, snuffed out more candles than most households could afford, and stepped out into the street, book under arm. It was one thing to live all your life in this city, in the bastion of Bastion, and be used to the terrible winters. It must be another to move here and find yourself in snow. One legion had just marched south to join the war, so would another come here to recover? Would those soldiers wish they were back in a warm warzone as their fingers and toes froze? Would the army even be able to re-equip them?
They were soldiers, Raxar concluded, and not worth his time.
Feeling the weight of the book, he walked on, unaware he was being followed.
Unaware he had been selected as carefully as he did produce, unaware he was being evaluated as much as the people he sold to when he worked out charges.
He wouldn’t have liked being a figure in a hunt, he far preferred to watch other people do it and charge them for the food and arrows they would need.
He had his fingers in everything that could be bought and sold legally, and he had no fear of the Thieftaker … except for a few well-chosen bribes no one would ever find out about.
But that was business wasn’t it. Oiling people.
Behind him the breath quickened in the lungs of a killer.
The politician had really said that in Bastion a pauper could end up a rich man or sunk in the docks, and behind the merchant a man drew out a knife and moved in quickly and closely.
The attacker knew Raxar would turn down this alley, would come to this door, would soon be at his mistress's house. Would soon be away from the eyes on the street.
A door to secretly slip into a woman’s quarters allowed the killer to raise the blade, grasp Raxar’s head and cut deeply across the throat.
The release of pressure as the arteries severed gave Raxar only a tiny amount of time to realise he couldn’t buy or bribe his way out of this before he was gone to darkness.
Then the body dropped to the ground.
Then the killer stood over the podgy corpse.
Then the butchering began.
Part One
“This isn’t working,” Zedek said, wobbling a bit in the saddle as he fiddled with something at his side.
“Horse trouble again?” Trimas said, an amused look on his face as he looked over at the travel-worn elf riding beside him.
“No, this one is a better animal,” Zedek said, distracted and still wobbling. Finally, he wrestled his scabbarded sword free and offered it to the tall black man at his side, who by contrast was entirely at home in the saddle.
“So what’s this for then?” Trimas said, his face confused as he took the sword.
“It’s not working.”
“There’s not much to go wrong on a sword,” Trimas said, drawing it and looking at it as they rode.
“That’s not quite what I meant,” Zedek said.
“So what’s the problem?” Daeholf said from his other side as he rode up to join them. Trimas and Zedek both turned to look at the dusty, grim looking man as he arrived.
“No one following?” Trimas said.
“No one yet,” Daeholf said.
“Relax gentlemen,” the short man riding just ahead of them said. “My mistress Karina guaranteed you would be unmolested on this trip.”
“More’s the pity,” Trimas mumbled.
Daeholf glanced at him and smiled. “Forgive us if we don’t trust your mistress completely, Kellan,” Daeholf said to the man riding at the front.
“Nothing to forgive. That’s an eminently sensible attitude. But you are wasting your efforts looking for pursuit. Even if the Emperor somehow found out you’d been involved, there’s no way to know which way you might be going.”
“As you keep saying,” Zedek said.
“And yet you keep looking,” Kellan said.
“Prudence,” Daeholf said. Kellan shrugged.
Trimas stared hard at his back. “So what’s wrong with the sword?” he said to Zedek after a moment.
“I’m no soldier,” Zedek said.
“I thought you were coming along quite well actually,” Daeholf said. “You’re really starting to pick it up.”
“It’s nice of you to say but we all know it’s not true. Not your sort of soldier anyway. And that’s the crux of the problem,” Zedek said seriously.
“You want to try a different weapon then?” Trimas said. “Could probably teach you the axe.”
Zedek looked at the large axe Trimas had strapped to his saddle.
“Ah, no thanks. We’re not all as big as you,” he said.
“Spear?” Daeholf suggested.
“You’re both missing my point. I’m not and never was a soldier.”
“You handled yourself pretty well in the battle,” Daeholf said.
“You’re being very specific about the word ‘soldier’,” Trimas said.
“Exactly,” Zedek said.
“Ah,” Daeholf said. “Worried you’ll be found out.”
“Exactly. I don’t have that tattoo like the two of you. And I don’t look much like an imperial soldier. The ‘logistics’ line can only go so far.”
“It’s gotten us this far,” Trimas protested.
“More by luck than anything else. I might be travelling with two ex-soldiers but sooner or later someone is going to ask me to prove myself first and won’t listen when you try to talk over me.”
“So what do you propose?” Daeholf said.
“That I stop trying to pose as an ex-soldier. Which means I no longer have permission to carry weapons like that sword. Which I’m crap with anyway.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Tell us a little about Bastion,” Zedek said to Kellan.
Kellan hesitated, thinking.
“It’s quite a big city,” Trimas said, filling the gap. “Bigger than where we’ve just come from anyway.”
“You've been there before?” Zedek said.
“Stationed. Maybe twenty years ago.”
“Junior officer I hope,” Daeholf said. “Else we're going to have to keep a bag on your head.”
“No one will recognise me. It was a long time ago.”
“No wives or children we need to know about?”
“No. None of that. I was more interested in a senator’s daughter at the time and it would have felt like cheating.”
“That senator's daughter?” Zedek said.
“Is there something I need to know here?” Kellan asked, dropping back to ride with the three.
“No, and no,” Trimas said firmly. Kellan looked at him intently.
“So no jealous husbands we need to worry about then?” Daeholf said, trying to deflect.
�
�Not there, no,” Trimas said.
“Hang on,” Zedek said. “You're saying we should have been looking for jealous husbands elsewhere?”
“Ah, possibly,” Trimas said sheepishly.
“Perhaps some warning if we get close?” Zedek said, eyebrow raised.
“If I remember, certainly,” Trimas said with a grin.
Kellan frowned and looked away.
“The city then?” Daeholf said.
“It has been a while,” Trimas said. “I was there with the resident legion, junior officer as you suggested.”
“Gone now,” Kellan said.
“What?” Trimas said.
“The legion. Redeployed.”
“What about the pirates?” Trimas said.
“Pirates?” Zedek said.
“Coastal raiders. Sometimes even got them down as far down the coast as my old home,” Daeholf said.
“Trading partners,” Kellan said.
“Trading partners?” Trimas said, looking surprised.
“Yes, for a few years now,” Kellan said. “Really quite profitable I believe.”
“You don't know?” Daeholf said.
“We don't have any direct dealings with them ourselves,” Kellan said.
“Is that why we're going there, then?” Zedek said.
Kellan laughed. Daeholf and Trimas gave him a hard look. Zedek just shrugged.
“I mean no offence, but I'd not heard that delicate trade negotiations were among your talents,” Kellan said, still looking amused.
“He's got us there,” Zedek said. Daeholf’s and Trimas’s looks softened.
“No, we're better at different forms of discussion,” Trimas said.
“Indeed. And very effective,” Kellan said.
“Is that why we're going then? Something more in line with our ‘observed talents’?” Daeholf said.
“Something like that,” Kellan said.
“We'd like to know more,” Trimas said.
“Indeed. So would I,” Kellan replied.
“You don't know?” Daeholf said, frowning.
“It's a fluid situation,” Kellan said. Trimas made to speak but Kellan waved him off. “What I mean is, I know why we're sending you originally, but the situation is likely to have changed by the time we get there.”
“So you're still not telling us much then?” Trimas said.
“No point preparing for something that is different when you get there. We have every confidence you gentleman will be able to adapt to whatever happens. Certainly after the events of the last few months.”
“Let's not talk about that,” Zedek said with a shudder.
“We won though,” Trimas said.
“Did we?” Daeholf said.
“It’s not like we had much choice,” Trimas said.
“No,” Daeholf said, musing. They were all silent for a moment.
“And that’s why we don’t talk about it,” Zedek said eventually.
“I was thinking about what you were talking about before. Faking you properly as a retired soldier is going to be too much work in the time we have available,” Kellan said.
“You mean you could do it?” Zedek said.
“Yes,” Kellan said simply.
“Convincingly?” Trimas said, looking troubled.
“As with all things,” Kellan stated.
“That's worrying,” Daeholf said. “That you can fake soldiers that pass inspection.”
“Depending on where you are, it's not hard,” Kellan said. “As with all walks in life, there are those that can be persuaded to look the other way.”
“And those that can’t?” Trimas said.
“That's why we make a good job of it when we do things,” Kellan said.
“So you could make Zedek a convincing ex-soldier?” Daeholf asked.
“I thought that's what I said,” Kellan said, a hint of irritation creeping in.
“Paperwork? Tattoo?” Trimas said.
“Properly aged tattoo,” Kellan said.
“How the hell do you do that?” Daeholf said.
“That's not something you need to know,” Kellan said firmly.
“So you could do it but we don't have the time?” Zedek said.
“And you don't have the money.”
“So why bring it up?” Trimas said.
“I have an alternative idea.”
“Do tell,” Zedek said.
“Bounty Hunter.”
“You're going to make us Bounty Hunters?” Trimas said.
“Not you, him,” Kellan said, pointing at Zedek. Trimas looked confused for a moment.
“I think I follow,” Zedek said.
“Go on,” Trimas said.
“Of the three of us, I am the least respectable.”
“I'm not sure I'd say that,” Daeholf said, looking at Trimas with a smirk. Trimas gave him a dirty look.
“Let's say the least authoritative then,” Zedek said.
“I suppose we can agree on that,” Trimas said. “But why not all of us?”
“Expense?” Zedek said, looking at Kellan.
“In essence,” Kellan agreed.
“So you're going to fake him as a Bounty Hunter?” Daeholf said.
“Not exactly,” Kellan said.
“Spit it out,” Trimas said.
“We watched some of the process with Alia,” Zedek said. “We don't have time for officially.”
“Oh, you'll be official. Mostly. Just don't wave your credentials around too much in the capital.”
“How you going to do it?” Daeholf said.
“We have ways.”
“My friend here will be risking his life on your ways,” Trimas said. “Pretending to be a Bounty Hunter is every bit as illegal as pretending to be a soldier.”
“More so, actually. And let's not forget he's been pretending to be a soldier for a while.”
“Something I'd stopped doing at the start of this conversation,” Zedek said.
“Indeed,” Kellan said.
“So how are you going to make me official?” Zedek said.
“Funnily enough, not many people want to be Bounty Hunters. We know people and I can make the arrangements on the way.”
“But not for all of us?”
“No.”
“Cost?”
“Yes.”
“Why do three cost more than one? You have to talk to the same people at the same meetings.”
“I'm not going to go into too much detail but the risk of drawing the wrong attention would rise massively if we were to attempt more than one. That has a commensurate cost increase.”
“On the subject of cost, you said we couldn't afford to make him a soldier. How can we afford to make him a Hunter?” Daeholf asked.
“Well, surprisingly, it costs less than a soldier but it's still not cheap. Let’s call it a loan,” Kellan said.
“No,” Trimas said firmly.
“No?”
“We don't want to owe any more people than necessary. Especially not people with the power you and your mistress seem to have.”
“So what do you suggest?” Kellan said, looking amused.
“You wouldn't have mentioned it if you didn't think it might be useful for the job you were sending us on,” Trimas said.
“Perhaps.”
“So we'll call it part of our fee,” Trimas said.
“Your fee?”
“You are paying us for this? I assume you don't want to be owing us a favour. You don't strike me as that sort of people,” Daeholf said.
“It seems we got the right team for the job. We have a deal.”
*****
“The sergeant is here.”
The watchman didn’t look up from the body in the alley in front of him. It had clearly been a message to someone. “Good,” he said distantly to the voice that had come from behind him. This was a real mess and he wanted to get as far from it as possible. This was not what he’d expected when he’d signed up to the watch.
&
nbsp; “No, that one.”
The watchman turned to look at his partner. “Oh.” He stepped from the alley and looked down the road. There she was, putting on a pair of gloves as she talked to one of his colleagues. He had to admit, she did have a certain something about her. He was a young man and she was a bit older than him, and even though she dressed soberly and with her hair drawn back, in a different time…
He pulled himself sharply from his musing. She was poison in the division now. She’d marked her card going after the wrong sort of people. She might have won, but being seen with her was considered seriously bad for your career.
“Something wrong?” she said, staring at him intently as she walked up to the alley.
“Um, no, Elena. Ah Sergeant Elena,” the watchman said, realising he had been staring and cursing himself silently.
“What do we have?” Elena said, brushing it off.
“A mess,” the watchman said.
“How many?”
“Just the one. We think.”
“You think?”
“Like I said. It’s a mess.”
“Another fine day in the city of Bastion then,” Elena said.
“Do you think it’s him?” the watchman said.
“Let’s have a look,” Elena said, stepping past him into the alley. She looked down at the body on the ground. It was indeed a mess. The early morning light made it difficult to make out all the details but it looked like one person. In pieces. “I need more light,” she said, poking carefully at the body. She looked up to see the talkative watchman’s partner nearby, glowering at her. She sighed.
“Watchman, fetch me a lantern,” she said to him. The man stalked off, grumbling. Elena sighed again. She pulled a candle stub out from her jacket and lit it. She squatted carefully by the body, looking at it intently, holding the candle to try not to drip any wax on any of the potential evidence.
“Was it him?” the first watchman said.
“No, far too messy,” Elena said. “This man has been hacked apart rather than sliced up.”
“How can you tell?” the watchman asked, interested, moving a little closer despite himself.
“Wounds are too ragged. I think there was a fight here. There’s not been any sign of that with our killer so far.”
Knives of Bastion (An Empire Falls Book 2) Page 1