The Ragged Man

by Lloyd, Tom

‘The ones you saw in the other districts have been preaching a bit too, mainly anti-cult talk. There’s no one in Byora going to defend any of the cults nowadays, not since the clerics’ rebellion when they tried to assassinate the duchess. Sebe and I started listening when we realised there’s a whole bunch of them spreading the word. Those who’re receptive to the message are taken aside and told about a prophecy, a prophecy of the Saviour that’s known to only the Harlequins.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Osh said grimly, ‘this prophecy sees no need for the cults at all?’

  ‘They’re keeping it close to their chests at the moment, only telling those willing to believe anything: the desperate, the poor, those with a grudge against the Gods or the cults. There have been stories running through the city for weeks now about Ruhen performing miracles — breaking a curse, protecting the duchess from the clerics trying to kill her — that’s what the crowd outside the compound are there for. They’re praying to this child to intercede on their behalf with the Gods.’

  ‘So those who know the secret put two and two together and get a new God for their pains.’

  Veil grimaced, imagining what sort of God Azaer would make.

  Osh paused mid-bite. ‘There’s a crowd of beggars outside the Ruby Tower gates? How big?’

  ‘Few hundred at least,’ Doranei said.

  ‘Are we talking fanatics here?’

  ‘Not for the most part, mostly folk broken by the Land they’re living in and desperate for something better.’

  ‘Thank the Gods,’ Osh said with relief. ‘We already know we’re going to have to deal with guards and distract any Menin soldiers — I don’t much fancy cutting my way through a crowd of men and women willing to die to protect the child.’

  ‘Speaking of which,’ Doranei said, ‘what tricks do we have on that front? The crowd should be easy enough to frighten out of the way, but that’s the easy part. We need a diversion to give us a chance, and I guess we’ll need every mage we’ve got inside the compound.’

  ‘The king has assembled a box of tricks for you to play with,’ Veil said with a half-smile. ‘For fighters we got the Brotherhood. We’ve got four thieves from Tio He who’re bloody covered in charms of Cerdin, and we’ve got Osh here. Plus two high mages in the forms of our favourite bickering old women — Masters Shile Cetarn and Tomal Endine — plus two battle-mages. And then we’ve the more unusual members of our team: Camba Firnin is an illusionist by trade, but she’s from the College of Magic and her bag of powders and chemicals’ll do more than just make you think you’re dead. Telasin Daemon-Touch you must’a heard of, and Shim the Bastard is a mage-killer, probably our best chance to deal with Aracnan. Daken plans on tying him to a stick and keeping him out front.’

  Doranei sighed. ‘And then there’s Daken, the Mad Axe,’ he added.

  ‘Aye, and her that comes with him,’ Veil said darkly.

  ‘Daken and I have been speaking about that,’ Osh interjected. ‘Litania is a fickle bitch, to use Daken’s term. She comes out to play when she feels like it, and she causes havoc whenever she does. We cannot have her with us in the Ruby Tower; it’s just as likely she’ll be the death of us as she will any sort of help.’

  ‘So your suggestion is?’ Doranei asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  ‘Daken asks her to provide the diversion.’ Osh raised a hand, seeing Doranei open his mouth to argue. ‘We keep one of the king’s mages back in case all she does is swamp the district in butterflies or something of the like — you’ll want one in reserve anyway, to cover your retreat.’

  ‘But to willingly let the Trickster loose in a city?’ Veil asked, aghast. ‘You’ve no idea what destruction she could wreak!’

  ‘Do we have a choice?’

  Neither of the Brothers replied. Doranei looked towards the upper levels of the Ruby Tower, visible above the rooflines. Veil continued to stare at Osh, trying to think of an argument against the proposal. He closed his mouth again when Doranei gave him a slap on the arm and pointed at the street opposite.

  ‘Look, what’s that all about?’

  The cobbled street had a smoother patch just as it reached the crossroads, where Aracnan’s magic had somehow fused the cobbles together. It led from Eight Towers district, the widest and quickest route from the Ruby Tower through the city, and walking down it now was a group of a dozen men and women, some wearing white, some dressed entirely in white. Many carried long walking staffs, and all bore some sort of pack on their back.

  ‘They’re dressed for travel,’ Veil pointed out, peering forward.

  ‘Missionaries,’ Osh concluded with a grave face. ‘The word’s being spread beyond Byora.’

  ‘Piss and daemons,’ Doranei growled, pushing his wine aside and shoving a hunk of bread in his pocket. ‘As soon as they pass we go to look at the ground around the Ruby Tower. If they’re starting the next phase of their plan we need to stop it, and soon. I want Ilumene and the child dead by Prayerday.’

  CHAPTER 13

  Over the darkest hours Doranei’s élite company gathered by fits and bursts. Men and women in small, subdued groups appeared out of the mist at the door of a warehouse adjoining the minor gate between Coin, Byora’s financial district, and Breakale. At night Breakale was the quieter of the two — all Byora’s upscale gambling dens were located in Coin, well away from the disapproving clerics of Hale and the gangsters of Burn.

  When he arrived Doranei found most of the company already assembled, but unlike the rest of the King’s Men he was unable to sit quietly. He prowled the warehouse, running the plan and escape route through his mind again and again, looking for flaws. The warehouse was crucial to their escape, providing a useful bridge between streets that were not quickly accessed otherwise — certainly not now a cart stood in the alley alongside the warehouse, waiting to block the remaining space.

  He ascended the narrow staircase that led to a room above the rear entrance, from where Doranei could see the street and the gate into Coin. The gate was shut at this hour, of course, but since the warehouse was close enough to the wall for a nimble man to jump, that wouldn’t be the case for long. Once in Coin a second gate — guarded by Menin troops most likely — would let them into Eight Towers, and to the gate of the Ruby Tower itself.

  ‘More obstacles than I’d like,’ Doranei commented softly when Veil joined him. ‘This could go badly wrong, my friend.’

  ‘Aye, that it could,’ Veil said, looking unconcerned, ‘but that’s the way of it. On the other side of the coin we’ve got Cerdin-blessed thieves, mages and a fair amount of brawn, if it comes to that.’

  The slim man was dressed in black from head to foot, unlike most of his comrades. They were going to make their way to the Ruby Tower as quietly as possible, with Veil leading the way until the alarm was raised, at which point Coran and Daken would take over.

  ‘What’s taking that mad bastard so long?’ Doranei muttered, still staring out of the window.

  ‘Peace, Brother,’ Veil urged, ‘he’s not late yet.’ He paused. ‘You’re as jumpy as a raw recruit, Doranei. What’s got you wound up?’

  ‘A woman,’ Doranei said darkly.

  Veil frowned at that. ‘You heard from her?’

  ‘No, I kept her well out of this. Last time I saw her we, ah — ’ He faltered. ‘Well, I don’t know how I left it, really, but it felt sort of final. Can’t tell whether she’s been keeping an eye on me, but there’s this itch at the back of my mind.’

  ‘Reckon you’d be able to tell if she was tracking you?’

  ‘I guess not, but I got a burr of something nonetheless.’

  ‘You decided she’s our enemy now?’ Veil asked in surprise. Last time the subject had come up, Doranei had been emphatic that Zhia wasn’t working with Azaer, and her actions had borne his assessment out. ‘What’s changed?’

  Doranei rubbed a callused palm over his face. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘just a feeling. I could be wrong o’course, she’s had a hundred l
ifetimes to practise giving nothing away, but something’s got me thinking all the same. She’s a cold bitch when she wants to be — think she surprises herself when she’s with me — but there was always a part of her that was closed off.’

  ‘Aye, well that’s her reputation,’ Veil said. ‘She might be a vampire, might be a heretic, but her heart’s that of a blood-sucking politician.’

  Doranei nodded. ‘She’s been doing it for too long, it’s what she is. I’m just scared she might decide what Azaer did in Scree was a true demonstration of the shadow’s power. Cursed with compassion she might be, but she’ll still take sides with Azaer if she can break her curse.’

  ‘And if that happens,’ Veil finished, ‘we’re in a whole heap of trouble.’

  As Veil spoke there came a quiet knock at the door downstairs. Both men were up and moving before it had even been opened, hands moving automatically to their weapons. When Daken slipped through the doorway, his face more animated than before, it was clear the operation was in motion.

  ‘It’s done?’ Doranei asked.

  ‘That it is,’ Daken replied, lifting his mail shirt in evidence. The white-eye’s broad chest was missing the large tattoo of Litania the Trickster; the skin where she’d been looked raw and painful. He grinned. ‘She said she’d give me time to get here. I left her slipping into some servant girl near the Menin barracks.’

  ‘Any idea what she’s going to do?’

  Daken’s grin got wider. ‘She’s not one for plannin’ but that girl’s hungry for a bit o’ fun. They’ll be distracted all right!’

  ‘Then we’re off. Get moving, Veil.’

  As Veil and the youngest of the four Tio He thieves headed for the roof, Doranei turned to the rest of his troops. ‘Everyone remember their job? Any questions? All got your equipment?’

  ‘Stop fussin’ like an old woman,’ Daken growled, ‘we’re good to go and you ain’t in charge, remember?’

  ‘The plan’s mine,’ Doranei reminded. ‘If everything’s in place, then I’m yours to command.’

  ‘That’s the sort o’talk I like.’ Daken pointed past Doranei to the smaller of the warehouse’s two doors, the one leading to the gate. ‘Time to move.’

  Upstairs, Veil pulled himself up onto the building’s roof and hauled his companion up after him. The greater moon, Alterr, was hidden by cloud, and this deep into the night, the Poacher’s Moon was hours off. Veil sensed as much as saw the swift dark clouds sweep east overhead. He made his way to the corner of the building closest to the wall and knelt to check the iron hook they had put there that afternoon.

  ‘Ready, Dirr?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Hurry up old man,’ Dirr replied, with an obscene gesture.

  Veil secured a rope to the hook and slipped over the edge, lowering himself down until he felt his boots reach the jutting edge of a beam that ran down the side of the building, almost the height of the wall beyond. He retreated along the beam a little and let the rope play out, then signalled to Dirr before launching himself forward. He ran a few steps along the beam and jumped forward, pulling hard on the rope, using the hook as a pivot to swing himself up to the district wall.

  Reaching it comfortably, Veil hooked his legs over and caught his balance. He found himself just above the guardhouse on the right of the gate. He eased himself down until his feet were touching the roof, then braced against the wall to take the strain on the rope as Dirr came hand over hand down it.

  Once they were both safe on the guardhouse roof Veil crept to the edge and peered over. None of the guards were in sight, but the door was half-open, spilling light into the street and illuminating the barred gate where Doranei would be waiting. Veil dropped, using the door and lintel to swing himself into the guardroom and he was on the ground and drawing his shortswords before the guards realised what was happening. There were three, all seated, and only one had a weapon close enough to grab, so Veil lunged like a fencer towards him, catching the man in the throat.

  ‘What — ?’ was all the next man managed before Veil turned and whipped both swords across him, slashing deeply into face and chest and sending him spinning over a table.

  The third had more presence of mind. He grabbed a spear propped against the wall and had almost levelled it by the time Veil made up the ground, but it wasn’t enough. One shortsword got him in the stomach, the other pierced his lung from behind, and he fell with an abrupt cough.

  Not waiting to check whether there was need, Veil turned back to the second man face-down on the table and stabbed him in the back. The guard arched up, mouth open as though about to scream, but Veil slit his throat and the only sound was his dying breath.

  ‘Gods, you really are fast!’ came a gasp from the doorway.

  Veil spun around, weapons raised and already moving towards the newcomer before he saw it was Dirr. He stopped dead, but Dirr had already retreated, a look of horror on his face.

  ‘Get that gate open,’ Veil hissed, indicating the gate behind him with a flick of a sword.

  Dirr flinched as blood spattered across his face, but he obeyed without hesitation and trotted over to lift the bars.

  Veil was about to follow him when he saw a key hanging from a nail by the doorway. ‘That makes it easier,’ he muttered, pocketing the key.

  The gate had a postern that could be barred but was usually only locked. If the Brother who was staying at this gate could find a way to blockade all but the postern, they could lock up behind them on the way back and perhaps win one more precious minute. Once the whole company was through Veil pressed the key into the hand of a King’s Man wearing the livery of the Byoran Guard.

  ‘Keep the postern open,’ he instructed. ‘You won’t get much traffic this time of night, but let ’em all through as wants to go; that should let you bar the rest and fix it that way.’

  A growl from Coran indicated he was supposed to be off and he jumped to obey, trotting through the deserted night-time streets with Dirr and Telasin Daemon-Touch, who ran with his head covered and bowed as always. Instead of the rapier and dagger Veil had expected, Telasin carried a pair of brutal khopesh that looked custom-made, with basket-hilts and runes detailed in bronze on the forward-tilted chopping edge.

  Coin was at its quietest, the cold wind and late hour ensuring the streets were deserted. Veil padded ahead of the rest so he could ignore the sound of their footsteps and scout the next section. The pace was slow and patient, his reward continued silence as he moved from one building to the next.

  He reached a crossroad and crouched down to peer around the corner. The street was empty, and no lights shone from any of the houses as far as the near-invisible cliff of Blackfang that Coin backed onto. Veil couldn’t help but look up at the broken mountain ahead. The steep, impassable slope started its climb up into the sky barely four hundred yards away. Something about it made Veil shiver; the presence of that brooding, broken mountain made him feel vulnerable.

  Footsteps in the street brought him back to the mission with a jolt. He looked around the corner and saw five figures walking towards them. In the darkness it was impossible to tell who they were, but as he frantically waved behind him he heard their voices carry on the night air.

  Piss and daemons, Veil thought, gesturing again. They weren’t drunks on their way home from some bar but a Menin patrol.

  ‘How many?’ asked a strange voice beside him and Veil twitched in surprise, even as he realised it was Telasin who’d spoken. It was the first time he’d heard the secretive Raylin mercenary speak.

  ‘Five,’ he whispered.

  ‘Keep clear.’

  Veil bit down the question on his lips as Telasin met his gaze for the first time since they’d met. The former Devoted officer hadn’t spoken the entire time he’d been among the Brotherhood. His head had remained bowed in shame and he’d allowed Daken to answer for him whenever words had been necessary.

  In the darkness it was hard to make out much of Telasin’s face beyond a broken nose and a strange dif
ference between his eyes: either they were markedly different colours, or one was milky with blindness. He was older than Veil; a hard forty winters showed in that face.

  Veil had an image blossom suddenly in his mind: yellowed ivory skin and long black tusks, rusting rings in the flesh of his cheek, and an eye that burned with orange flames. Veil fell backwards in horror, barely able to stop himself from crying out in shock.

  Telasin didn’t wait to see if he’d made enough noise to warn the Menin patrol; he had already leaped silently out into the street and gone on the attack. Veil scrabbled to follow the daemon-touched soldier, but as he rounded the corner and saw Telasin engaging all five Menin he faltered. A black cloud swirled around them all, shadows whipping up from the ground. Telasin’s cloak lifted high in the sudden gust, revealing tarnished bronze scale-armour, as he hacked at one of the Menin and parried another in the same moment.