by Toby Bennett
“I told you, that you were mine.”
“Never.”
“Not now, perhaps, I have no illusions that a true daemon can be crammed into a simple summoner’s crystal but we both know that a real daemon stone would change everything.”
“Fool! Those stones were not made to be prisons for my kind.” The thick vines quivered with another surge from the daemon’s powerful body. Thick strands started to snap but Varkuz froze, when a serrated blade touched the back of her neck.
“It would not take them more than a second,” Gilash said , “even a body such as the one you now inhabit could not survive the loss of a head, I think and then what would you do? Trapped on this side of the veil with no runes to guide you to another body? It sounds disastrous to me, if the old texts are right, you would fade very quickly.”
Varkuz slumped. “Then I have no choice but to call you master.”
“Call me what you like I have no intention of giving you your parole until the daemon stone is in my hand, at that time we will discuss the terms of your service. Until then you will be watched closely and do not think I will hesitate to end you.”
Gilash’s guards materialised around the stricken daemon, as he spoke, joining the two holding the heavy saw blade over Vakuz’s neck. Iron chains soon reinforced the enchanted vines, which were cut free before the daemon was hoisted into the air, carried between six of Gilash’s men.
“I think I might have some solace for you, daemon.”
Varkuz did not take the bait, she had no interest in what the priest had to say, let him talk she would be away at the first opportunity and then she would have revenge on Anka and the traitor. Aside from anything else it hurt to talk.
“You still have a chance to hunt,” Gilash continued, ignoring the daemon’s lack of participation, “I would not miss my guess, would I, if I said that you could track the one I seek? Aid me in that and I promise you the satisfaction of seeing Akna and his accomplice die.”
Varkuz growled low in her throat, the priest expected to use her as a hound to find his quarry and relinquish her prize at a command. She had dealt with Gilash’s type in one form or another for centuries, so proud in victory so useless in defeat. Just as Lothar had thought to use her, Gilash thought that she could be made into an extension of his will, as though a daemon were simply another shade conjured, forth from the veil but he would learn differently in time and he would not be so lucky as to enjoy the life of a puppet. Varkuz promised herself that she would revenge herself on the self-satisfied priest but for now, it would not do to be held back from her quarry.
“Lift me higher.” The daemon growled and took a deep sniff of the air.
Chapter 22
“What is truth and what reflection?
What is substance, what will pass?
What separates dreamer from invention?
Only the side from which they view the glass.”
Lights burned low at the entrance to the Pickled Pike and though the darkness of Niskar was timeless, there was no mistaking the state of the tavern. The drunks had long gone home and only those crippled by smoke still lingered in the common room. One of Alanchi’s sneak thieves wandered amongst the wretches who were left behind, ostensibly mopping tables but in reality looking out for easily filched valuables. Akna knew the cycle well enough and he knew that there was probably no better time to slip into the Pike, unnoticed. Ilsar had lost a lot of blood and she was all but a dead weight in his arms. His state was little better but natural wariness prevented him from taking the final steps into the tavern.
He let Ilsar slump against the wall and then slunk along the side of the tavern until he reached an old bolt hole that he had carved out several years ago. Akna had never had much use for the coin he earned in Alanchi’s service but he’d not been fool enough to leave it anywhere obvious or anywhere in the building for that matter, since Alanchi had a ‘finder’s keepers’ attitude to anything he managed to scratch from the nooks and crannies of his establishment. Akna felt along the wall, till he came to a spot where a brick was ever so slightly raised, he used his dagger to pry open the cavity behind the false brick. With all the damp from the river the mortar at this corner of the building was soft and he had been able to make a space large enough to hide two moderately sized bags of coin, he’d need them now if they were going to stand any chance of surviving. If he was given enough coin, so that he was not out of pocket and a few of the lesser stones, Zenker could probably be persuaded to hide them and find them a way out of the city. Alanchi was the real danger, he would not want to take the risk but it was likely he’d try to take everything else, if he discovered how things stood. Akna drew out the bag of gems for which he had felt the most affinity and slipped them back into the hole before replacing the brick and smoothing down the crumbling mortar.
The stench of the garbage in at the back of the Pike was enough to stir Ilsar back into consciousness.
“Where are we?”
“The Pike, we’ll be safe here for a bit, long enough to rest and buy provisions, if we are lucky.”
“From the smell, I thought I’d dreamed getting out of the Ghosts.”
“We’re close to the river and Alanchi’s customers are not known for their hygiene.”
“They should be known for something,” Ilsar said raising her hand to her nose, “if nothing else they should be made to carry bells as warning.”
“It’s not so bad when you get inside, Alanchi just likes to make it as uncomfortable as possible for anyone looking for the back door into the Pike.”
Akna reached behind a pile of foul smelling crates that in all likelihood contained last month’s left over fish and pulled hard on a fibrous rope; a trapdoor rose from the street close by and they quickly entered the dimly lit passage it revealed. Akna pulled the trapdoor closed behind them before they proceeded down into the cellar that Zenker called home.
“He doesn’t seem to be here, we’ll have to wait.” Akna said, sliding a well disguised wall panel shut behind them.
“Suits me,” Ilsar replied crossing to a palette in the corner and collapsing. “Do you think that we have time to wait?”
“From the sounds of you I don’t think you could carry on much longer, I know I’m close to collapsing.”
“I’m better trained than you are.”
“You’ve also lost a lot more blood, Zenker keeps bandages round here somewhere.”
Ilsar gave no sign that she had heard him.
Akna took longer than he would have liked rustling up supplies to treat Ilsar’s wounds, he had not been exaggerating when he said he was close to collapse and even though he was familiar with Zenker’s rooms, he seemed to be muddling his way through treacle. At last when he was satisfied that he had all he needed, he crossed to the palette where Ilsar lay and propped her up on his lap. He peeled back her bloodstained tunic, revealing skin that seemed like alabaster, compared to his own light brown colouring. He found his tired eyes falling, following the full curve of a breast, it was only when Ilsar stirred in her sleep and let out a low moan that he remembered what he was about and began to clean the wound on her shoulder.
The old blood cleared to reveal a neat puncture where the bolt had gone through the leather padding and into her shoulder. Padding had no doubt taken some of the bight out of the strike but Akna was still amazed by how light the wound seemed. There was a lot of blood to be sure but it could have been far worse.
“Small mercies.” He muttered to himself as he wrapped the bandage round her shoulder and pulled her tunic closed. Common sense told him that he should stay alert; he was far from safe and even if Gilash did not find them, Alanchi could be just as dangerous. There were many reasons that he shouldn’t sleep but he forgot them as he lent back against the wall and closed his eyes. Ilsar's head was still in his lap and he absently stroked her hair. An image of the first time he had seen her played through his mind, a memory of sunlight, a dream, his first dream in so many years.
Th
e door at the top of the stairs closed loudly enough to wake her, Ilsar looked up, blinking as she tried to adjust to the light levels. The few candles that had been burning when they entered the room, had burnt down to flickering nubs and there were only two glow gems on the work table to provide any real illumination. The man staring at her from the top of the stairs was short and the gleam in the eyes peering out of the thick hair covering his head, the parts not obscured by a ridiculous hat, made him seem animalistic and feral. She cast her eyes up at Akna but he was clearly too exhausted to have been disturbed.
“Are you Zenker?”
“I am and I presume that you are the daemon’s servant? Akna has excelled himself.” The little man said with a grin.
“I am no servant to Varkuz.”
“Of course not but let us imagine for a moment that you were, isn’t that exactly what you would say?”
“Akna brought us here because he said you would help us.”
“I’m sure he might think that but from the looks of things, it’s going to be more complex than that. For a start has he by any chance been as successful in obtaining the Hierophant’s stone?”
“Why don’t you ask me that, Zenker?” Akna rumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep
“If I could be sure you were yourself I might, but how could I know you were not under her thrall. You said her poisons were potent after all.”
“If the suspicions you mention were real,I’d imagine that you’d have no way of telling whether I was myself or not.”
“You make a good point,” Zenker agreed and a laughably tiny crossbow appeared in his hand as if by magic, “don’t move, either of you, it may look small but let me assure you that in these confined spaces, the needles this weapon fires will not miss and the poison they carry would, I’ll hazard, be a match for any venom your new assassin friend might have used.”
“What is this?” Akna protested, “I don't know what you think is happening but…”
“But what? What I think is happening is, you’ve kicked the wasp’s nest and the streets are crawling with Asemutt agents doing a poor job of fitting in with the local scum.”
“They’re seeking us it’s true but…”
“So many buts, Akna, the thing is Alanchi doesn’t care for the reasons why you bring danger to his door, he just wants the problem dealt with.”
“What’s Alanchi got to do with this? We had a deal, Zenker, I brought you stones from the vaults of the Cardinal himself.”
“And the Hierophant’s stone as you promised?”
“I have it but…”
“Zenker warned you about the buts,” a new voice said from beyond the doorway, “the Asylum might seek you for burning out the Cardinal, but my bet is that Asemutt has only one goal, the same one I had in mind when I sent you to that sunken tomb in the first place.”
“You knew,” Akna whispered.
“Naturally, and I sent my best, a pity you seem to specialise in disappointing your masters. When I realised that you had failed I wanted to have you dealt with but Zenker persuaded me you might yet find my stone. I have every expectation that you will give me warnings of your fantastical daemon or the revenge of Asemutt, they can suck hind tit as far as I’m concerned. With a daemon stone, I’ll be able to make a fresh start far away from here.”
Akna whistled under his breath, “You were always his tool then Zenker?”
“How could you be surprised at that?”
“Why should it matter now anyway?” Alanchi burst in, “You either have the stone or you haven’t, if you hand it over peaceably then I might let you slink off and find some other hiding place.”
“Obviously, because once you had the stone, Ilsar and I would make a perfect distraction for Gilash, giving you time to escape.”
“Never were slow, were you, Akna? Except, apparently, when it comes to women. You know enough to distrust me but you are prepared to bring this stranger with you when you leave the city. How long do you think it would have been before they found you in a ditch?”
“It’s you that seems intent on stabbing me in the back.”
“The real question is, how are you going to stop me? I only need to look at you to know you’ve not got much fight left in you and even if you could appeal to my better nature, the streets are crawling with Asemutt agents and informers.”
“Don’t doubt that I would give you the daemon stone if I could, so far as I’m concerned you and Gilash can choke on it. The thing is…”
“I know you don’t have it with you, Akna, I’d have ways of detecting an artefact of that power but I have no doubt that you know where you can lay your hands on it.”
Zenker shifted his grip on his crossbow and reached into his tunic for a small yellow stone that glowed with about half the intensity of the two gems on his workbench.
“If you really don’t need the stone then I’m sure you would consider this a good exchange.”
“What if I told you I can’t give you the stone because it was destroyed?”
Alanchi looked slightly taken aback by the idea but Zenker simply laughed.
“An artefact that was crafted by Niskaan himself. ‘Destroyed’? It’s simply not possible. Surely you’d agree that our offer is fair? One stone for your freedom, you have waited three years to have this stone returned to you, surely the daemon enchantments have not got such a grip on you already that you cannot make this exchange?”
“I can’t.”
“Then what use are you? Without the stone there is no reason to risk the ire of the Asylum. You can give me the stone or you can have Asemutt torture the location from you. Your choice,” Alanchi said, smirking.
“I’m surprised you haven’t threatened to torture me yourself.”
“Akna, you are one of my own, I’m not going to torture you when you come here asking for my help, but if you won’t pay an appropriate price for my help, then I can only turn you away and hope that word doesn’t spread to your enemies as to where you might be found.”
The old thief leaned over and took the yellow stone from Zenker’s hand.
“It is clear that we each have something the other wants. I have no wish for violence, I have always preferred to make mutually agreeable deals. How could I do less for someone who has been with me and served me for so long?”
“Your sense of honour is inspiring,” Ilsar's voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I’ve no interest in your thoughts, bitch. Akna has served me well for three years, I owe him a bit of finesse. You, on the other hand, have ruined my alliance with the Ash-men and for all I know, ensorcelled this poor fool.” A smile broke on Alanchi’s broad face, “but that is exactly why we haven’t dispatched you, yet. I don’t care why I get the daemon stone, only that I do. I am quite aware of Akna’s indifference to death but I have a suspicion he will be ready to be more cooperative, when it comes to saving your life. At least I hope so.”
“Alanchi.” Akna said his voice lowering in warning.
Akna’s reaction elicited a knowing smile from his former employer.
“No doubt that she has some hold on you, Akna my lad, I haven’t seen you look so put out in three years of knowing you. So, since we all understand the stakes here, leave your weapons where they are and lead me to where I can find my stone and I’ll spare you any further upset.”
Akna let out a slow breath and nodded. Neither Zenker or Alanchi could detect what passed between the assassin and Ilsar in that moment but anyone who understood the nature of the bond between the two would have been worried by that moment of silence. At last Akna seemed to come to a decision.
“Very well, Zenker is right, I did not bring the stone in here, but it is hidden close by. I’ll lead you to it and in exchange you give me my own stone back and some supplies to help us on our way.”
“A lot of conditions for someone in your position,” Alanchi commented.
“You said it yourself, Gilash will think that we have his prize, therefore it’s in your interest
to make sure we get as far away as possible before they catch up with us.”
“Don’t mistake me, Akna, I hope they never find you. Just don’t care enough to risk my own skin or to give up the chance to get my hands on something as valuable as a daemon stone.”
Akna nodded again, there was little point in commenting on Alanchi’s attempts to mitigate his treachery. The gang lord liked to talk and he was a master of rationalisation. If things went the way Alanchi hoped, he would probably convince himself that stealing the stone had been a kindness. The need to justify things was alien to Akna, you killed or were killed and there was no need to explain to anyone why you had to stab them in the back. He’d anticipated this sort of thing, which is why he had hidden the stones in the first place; everyone should really understand their part in the game they played and no apologies were necessary. Certainly Akna did not intend to waste his time on speach, if an opportunity to turn the tables arose. The only real surprise was Zenker, Akna didn’t believe that the resentment that he had detected for Alanchi had been faked but it seemed the first thing Zenker had done was to betray them to his master and now here he was, pointing a weapon at them. Everything in the next few minutes would rely on Akna’s faith that he had not misread Zenker’s true feelings about his master, if he had to kill them both then he would have no allies left.
They rose and crossed the room, Alanchi and Zenker descended the stairs to follow them out of the disguised back exit.
“You first, Akna, I’ll follow you, then Zenker can bring your friend up. If you’re tempted to run when you get out, let me assure you that she will pay a terrible price and that word of your last known location will reach the wrong ears faster than you would like. There’s only one way out of this and that’s to give me what I want. Remember that.”
“We don’t seem to be able to talk about anything else,” Akna muttered under his breath. “You’ve made your point, Alanchi,” he said more loudly.
“Glad to hear it,” Alanchi replied, producing a replica of Zenker’s weapon, “just in case you get stupid.” Alanchi waved the weapon and began to climb.