Masque of Death (Kormak Book Nine) (The Kormak Saga 9)

by William King

  “You think the King really has put a Guardian onto us? That could get hairy. They can be cruel bastards and if there was an Old One involved he’ll not be gentle with us. And you can’t kill him. His order will just send two more to kill us. And they never let up.”

  “Maybe we better had think about getting out of town.”

  “Somehow I knew you were going to say that,” said Gregor.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anders staggered up to his room and began to pack his kit. It was time to go, just in case. There was no sense in waiting around for trouble to find them. They could head up country to Helgarde or even just light out into the wilderness until things calmed down.

  Hell, they might even save themselves some gold. Money went much further in the backcountry, and they were used to living off the land.

  They had both been in trouble with the law before, and the solution was easy enough, leave the country or lie low until things blew over. Perhaps they could find a berth on a ship heading back to the Old Kingdoms, but the chances were that, if they were being hunted, the docks would be watched.

  Come to think of it, he remembered the girls and some of the punters talking about the new galleon that had arrived. It had a new admiral and a Guardian on it.

  Why would the Governor send his man to warn them if the thing wasn’t true? Telling them to get out of town was far from the worst thing he could have done. Maial was a place where life was cheap and men could easily be made to vanish. The Governor was the sort of man to do it too, by all accounts. Indeed, it was surprising that he had not just chosen to get rid of them and reclaim his gold. Still, now was not the time to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

  Bethani had changed her tune from earlier. Now she looked at him plaintively as an abandoned puppy. He was deserting her and somehow she could not live without him. Anders sincerely doubted that but even if it was true he needed to go.

  “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be back. Just give this thing time to blow over and we’ll see each other again.”

  “You don’t mean that. As soon as you walk through that door, you’ll forget about me.”

  Based on experience that was true, but now hardly seemed the time to say it.

  “I’ll never forget you, darling. Give me a kiss to remember you by.”

  She kissed him long and expertly and began to draw him towards the bed. He was tempted, but the thought of a Guardian and a squad of marines coming to drag him into a cell made it easier to resist that temptation.

  “I’ve got to go; Gregor is waiting for me.”

  “Gregor is saying goodbye to Magda and Dalia. He cares more about them than you care about me.”

  “Light of the Holy Bloody Sun, woman. My hide is on the line here. A fat lot of use I will be to you if my body is broken on the rack.”

  She started to sniffle. He fumbled in his purse and gave her a silver coin. She stopped for a moment, looked at it then started to sniffle again. This time, he gave her gold and her eyes went wide, and she threw her arms around him. “I’ll wait for you forever,” she said.

  Or until the next man with some money walks through the door, Anders thought. Not that he minded. He was sure she took their relationship no more seriously than he did.

  He threw everything else he had into his backpack, strapped on his sword, and made his way across to Gregor’s chamber. He banged on the door and shouted, “Time to go.”

  “I’m just settling something here,” Gregor shouted back. “You go downstairs and square things with Mother and I’ll settle up with you once we hit the road.”

  Anders considered arguing, but it was pointless. All it would do would slow down their departure. He headed down the stairs and asked one of the tough guys next to the bar to take him into see Mother.

  “Sorry to see you go,” the old woman said. Sorry to see my money go, more like, Anders thought.

  “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction.”

  “I was very satisfied, several times every night,” he said.

  She laughed as if she had not heard this a thousand times before. “Any idea when you’ll be back in town?”

  “Next time we make a big score,” he said. “You know what it’s like the life of a prospector.”

  “I do,” she said. “I was married to one, a long time ago. When I first came out here. It was a hard life.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Gregor popped his head around the door. “You’d best leave this beautiful bloody lady alone. It’s time to go.”

  They headed for the door.

  It was dark. Pools of light lined either side of the buildings. Most of the lights were red, marking the entrances of houses of ill repute. Green revealed the doorways of hash houses. Yellow was for plain old-fashioned taverns. The streets were crowded, with barkers singing the praises of their establishments, and blind drunk sailors, rouged bar girls and costumed citizens determined to make the most of the festival.

  “I’m going to miss this bloody place,” said Gregor. “Best time of my life this was.”

  “That’s because we have money. Just be glad we’ve still got some to leave with.” The long drunk had started to wear off. Anders studied the faces of the crowd looking for anyone familiar. He caught sight of someone he recognised. One of the bruisers who had accompanied the Governor’s flunky. The man quickly ducked out of the pool of light and vanished into the shadow.

  “I think we might be being followed,” Anders said. “Some of those guys who were with the Governor’s lapdog earlier.”

  “Might just be making sure we take his advice,” said Gregor.

  “Or he might just know how much the Governor paid us for that coffin and want to get his hands on what’s left.”

  “You reckon he’s doing a bit of freelancing then?”

  “Might be. In any case, he brought some of his chums with him.”

  “Good thing I brought me sword then. Wish I had a crossbow and some armour.”

  “Yeah. The Watch would be thrilled to see you strolling down the street with a crossbow in your hand.”

  “I’m just saying. And by the way, I think you’re right. There’re a couple more of those rough boys in the alley mouth there.”

  Anders could not see them but Gregor’s night vision had always been better than his.

  “You reckon the whole gang is there, mate?” Gregor asked.

  “We’d better assume so.”

  “Too many to stand and fight then, and I don’t think it would be sensible to go to the Watch under the circumstances.”

  “Not when they might be looking to clamp us in irons.”

  “What’s the plan then?”

  “Mingle with the crowd, look for a chance to bolt and take it when it comes up.”

  “Sound thinking. Wish I had not had that last beer.”

  “I wish I had not had the last ten. Tonight looks like a night to have all our wits about us.”

  “Oh well, at least I had a good time with Magda and Dalia. If this is my last night among the living, I’ll go out with a smile on me face.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t have to go out at all.”

  “You know, old son, you were right. I should have put down one or two drinks for Sarge and Donal and the lads. Who knows, we might be seeing them again soon.”

  “Don’t talk like a plonker. We’ve been in tighter spots than this. Remember in Umbrea when we were surrounded by those death-worshipping bastards.”

  “Yeah but we were with the company then, and we had a wizard with us. Tonight it’s just you and me.”

  “The two of us are worth any dozen of the Governor’s bully boys.”

  “I hope you’re right because I spotted another couple of them. Over there, on the right, at that sausage stand. Yep, one of them just made me making him.”

  “How many is that now?”

  “At the last count six.”

  “Definitely too many to fight.”

  “Unless worst comes to blo
ody worst.”

  “We could make a run for it.”

  “Might be the best plan.”

  “Split up. Meet you at the East Gate in the morning. If that fails will meet you down the road to Helgarde at Westerby village.”

  “You bloody sure you want to do this?” Gregor asked.

  “No, but it’s either that or stand and fight and draw attention to ourselves that might best be avoided.”

  “Alright then, when we hit the next crossroads I’ll take right, you take left, and bloody good luck to you, mate.”

  “Same to you. See you in Westerby.”

  “Or in hell, mate.” They reached the crossroads. Anders broke left, sprinted down the street and turned into the mouth of an alley. He hoped he remembered things right. He’d spent a lot of time in this part of town, but it was a lot of time drunk.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Three big men loomed out of the gloom. One of them caught sight of him and pointed. Anders cursed. Looking back had been a mistake.

  He ran down the muddy alleyway, jumped a midden, frightened a pig snuffling in the dark. He turned and kicked it in the rump, sending it hurtling back down the alley in the direction of his pursuers. He ran on, taking a right then a left.

  From behind him came the sound of grunts and cursing and a pig squealing in pain. In the dark, a hog was an easy thing to trip over. Briefly, he considered heading back and throwing himself at his pursuers. In the confusion, he could do a lot of damage.

  But no. He was still drunk. And he had a problem of his own. It was pitch dark in these alleys. The only light came from the occasional candle flickering in a window, and there were damn few of those. He stretched out his arms and tried to guide himself by touching the walls. He needed to move slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was run headlong into a wall in the dark. That would cut the chase short very quickly.

  His hand fumbled on a door jamb. He could try and maybe hide out inside. Even as that thought occurred to him, he heard something big growl and bark. A heavy weight threw itself against the door. Guard dog.

  A moment later he heard a man shout. “That way.”

  Another voice bellowed. “Wait a minute. Linkboy! Linkboy!”

  They were calling for torchbearers. Not so good. They would be able to see him in the dark. They might even notice the new tracks he had left in the alley mud. Keeping moving seemed like a good idea.

  He pressed on, wishing he had a torch himself or a dark lantern or one of those magical stones that glowed with their own internal light. He had seen some of those back where they had found the coffin, had even pried one from the ceiling in which it had been set, but it had lost its glow shortly after that and never regained it. It seemed to need to be connected to the runes etched into the stonework to keep the magic coming. It was always the way with sorcery. It never turned out to be useful. It was always a curse.

  He pressed on through the gloom, praying for the moon to break through the clouds or for an exit back into the street to appear. What had seemed to be a good plan to his drink-fuddled brain was swiftly proving to be a trap. His pursuers would soon be on his trail and he was badly outnumbered.

  His hand fumbled for his blade. He wondered how Gregor was doing.

  The changeling moved silently along the alley. His plan had worked a little too well. He had spooked the men into making a run for it while they were drunk. That had got them out of the protection of the red-light house. Unfortunately, they were not neophytes at this game. They had spotted Orson Waters’ incompetents and split up.

  No matter. He need only find one right now. The other could be picked up later. His altered eyes could see in the darkness better than any other mortals’. There was no colour, just shades of grey, but the details were clear enough. New footsteps imprinted in the mud. Judging from their appearance, it would be the tall blonde one. His feet would be larger.

  He followed the trail and saw the man lumbering along in the gloom. His hand was close to the hilt of his sword. The changeling doubted his prey could see much, but it was always possible that he might connect a blow by accident. It would not do to throw away his life by accident in this alley.

  He could wait for Orson’s men to come up but this alley was a good place to take his prize if he could. No witnesses. He felt in his pocket for the sap and began to alter his face.

  “Psst! Over bloody here, mate!” Anders jumped at the sound of that familiar voice.

  “Gregor! What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the bloody same of you. I tried to give the blighters the slip, circled Cheap Street and ended up in this bloody alley.”

  There was something odd about Gregor’s voice. He did not sound quite like his usual self. It was understandable under the circumstances. He had been chased all over the city.

  “Cheap Street. I’ve drifted far off course then.” Anders had thought he was five blocks from Cheap Street. How could he possibly have gone so wrong?

  “Easy enough to do in these bloody alleys, mate. They are a maze. I’m not sure I can find my own way out.”

  Anders heard footsteps coming closer. He heard heavy breathing. “You there, mate?” Gregor’s almost voice asked. A hand clutched his tunic in the dark.

  “Yeah! Best be quiet. I’m being followed by at least three of the bastards. They have a link boy with them. They’ll be on us soon if we’re not careful.”

  Something else nagged at Anders. Cheap Street. How had Gregor circled and got behind him from Cheap Street along the alley? How had he managed to get by the bruisers? Maybe there was another alley mouth; Anders had missed in the dark, but he did not remember any.

  No matter. There were two of them now and only three pursuers. The odds were more in their favour than any time this evening. Particularly if they managed the advantage of surprise.

  “If we can just find a place out of the torchlight when they come on us, we can bounce them,” he whispered to Gregor.

  “Bloody right. What about that doorway behind you?”

  Gregor turned his head to look. As he did so, he wondered how Gregor had managed to see a hiding place in the total darkness. Just as the thought occurred to him, something crashed into the back of his head and the night exploded into a thousand stars that faded to blackness, taking his consciousness with them.

  Kormak looked around the garden of Balthazar’s mansion. A pile of books and scrolls and statues lay next to the ornamental pool. Some of them were monstrous, dating back to the rule of the Old Ones. Some of them were pornographic. None of them were any more incriminating than what Kormak had already found in Balthazar’s chambers.

  It galled him. The Count had escaped. He had found proof of the man’s involvement with the Shadow cult, but the mage had slipped through his fingers. The hangers-on and party guests might be able to tell him something. It was going to be a long night of interrogations. He had better get on with it.

  A man in the livery of the Governor’s household enter the gardens. It was Ezra. His face was schooled to blankness.

  “You’ve found the men were looking for,” Zamara asked.

  “Yes and no, Your Excellency,” said Ezra. His voice was as neutral as his demeanour.

  Zamara frowned. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  Kormak strode over to the Admiral’s side. He wanted to hear this. Rhiana went with him.

  Ezra kept his face carefully blank. “We found out where they were, but they left in a hurry just minutes before we arrived. I have men combing the streets and spending gold looking for any trace of their trail. If they are in the city, we will find them.”

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “They were staying in Mother’s place on the Street of Shame. When I asked about their whereabouts, she said something odd. She said why didn’t you ask them where they were going when you talked to them?”

  Kormak felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. “Someone who looked like you.”

  “Have the
woman brought in for questioning,” said Zamara.

  “I shall do as you say, Admiral,” said Ezra, “but before I go, there’s one more thing.”

  “Yes,” said Kormak.

  “We have not been the only ones asking after Anders and Gregor. It took some effort, but I traced those enquiries back to Goodman Waters’ servant, Lorenzo.”

  “You’ve done well,” Kormak said. He felt a small surge of triumph. He had had his suspicions about the merchant ever since the bad business on the Island of Wrath.

  “This thing gets stranger by the minute,” said Zamara.

  “It just means that our enemies are ahead of us. If we act quickly, we might yet catch up with them. Gather your men, Admiral. It looks like we need to pay a visit to the home of Orson Waters.”

  “I know the way,” said Count Shahad.

  “Ezra, go and get Frater Ramon and as many soldiers as you can. Bring them to Goodman Waters’ house. I suspect we are going to need them. Be quick about it!”

  “As you say, Guardian.” Ezra scuttled off.

  “I know where Waters lives,” repeated Count Shahad. His words had an ominous ring to them.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the chamber outside their captives’ cell, Orson looked at the changeling. It was a most unsettling sight. It wore the shape of the Guardian Kormak. The changeling seemed to take pleasure in making him nervous. “You think this will get them to tell the truth?”

  The changeling ran a hand up against the stone wall of the cellar. The stones were massive; remnants of the great underground city the Old Ones had built on the site. Modern Maial was built on top of it. “It is consistent with what they already know. If they believe they have fallen into the hands of the Order of the Dawn, they will be more cooperative. We may even be able to convince them they are helping the King-Emperor.”

  “I hope you are right.” Even as he said the words, Orson heard stone grind against stone, then feet approaching, slapping along the cold stones. Someone had entered the cellars under his house via the network of secret tunnels. He heard a man’s heavy breathing. The sound set him to reaching for his blade. Balthazar emerged from the shadows.