by Tom Lloyd
‘Home’s further away these days,’ Narin said. ‘I’ll go find a corner to crawl into here instead. Best I don’t run the risk of being followed back any more than I have to, anyway.’
The pale Lawbringer nodded and gestured back the way he’d come. ‘Follow me, I know somewhere nearby we can eat lunch in a private room. With luck today’s escort will find a way to join us, he and I can talk while you sleep.’
After a morning of walking Narin found himself physically unable to argue with the prospect. The most he could manage was to direct their path so, after leaving word of where they would be with Lawbringer Cailer, the pair headed out past the magnificent temple-like courtrooms that abutted the Palace of Law.
As it was they walked only a few dozen yards out of the Palace of Law’s defined grounds, Rhe taking him to the sprawl of inns that had been unofficially annexed by the corps of lawyers who served at the neighbouring Imperial courts.
While they stood out amid lawyers drawn predominantly from the black-coated religious caste, there was the advantage of a private guard for the whole complex and a number of rooms available for hire. Narin had never worked out the exact nature of power and control over those inns, knowing only that the buildings within the perimeter wall had been adapted and consolidated into four main premises, a cabal of prominent high-caste lawyers ruling each. He half expected to see Prince Sorote as they ascended the steps of the largest inn, but instead an aging clerk, stood behind what had once been a bar, welcomed them with all ceremony.
‘Lawbringers, how may I assist you?’ the man declared in polished tones. ‘Are you looking for someone?’
Behind him was a series of brass plaques and small wooden shutters that announced the presence of their permanent residents, with chalk boards at the furthest end for less permanent guests. Lurking in the shadows beyond the bar were a pair of young men also dressed like clerks but with cudgels hanging from their belts. One was a local youth, the other a dark-skinned Dragon, but they both had the same wary expression, which Narin recognised as one worn by most young brawlers raised on the streets of the Imperial City.
‘A private room and food for the rest of the day. Our names to remain off that chalk board, our presence to be denied unless it is to a female novice called Tesk who will be running errands for us.’
Narin blinked at the clerk as the man nodded with assent. ‘Or a bad-tempered old sod who you’ll know by his attitude.’
The clerk gave a nervous half-laugh. ‘So long as he’s not dressed as a lawyer, sir, that should be simple enough to work out.’
His fingers hovered for a moment, poised in indecision, then he pulled a key from under the bar and turned to the younger clerks. ‘Oniren, take the esteemed Lawbringers to the thief’s room.’ Again he inclined his head to Rhe. ‘If you’ll permit, sir, but that’s not a joke on my part. The room has a barred window and a strong door in case you want it. Oniren, after you’ve taken them fetch a plate from the kitchens.’
Oniren turned out to be the Dragon of the pair and after fetching up a candle he led them without speaking up two flights of stairs and to the end of a corridor. Narin noticed all the doors had locks with a grille-covered viewing shutter at eye level, but the door Oniren stopped at had the addition of heavy bolts on the outside. The room itself was as plain as might be expected; whitewashed walls making the best of the winter light that crept through the window, a desk below that and a table on the other side of a small fireplace.
As Oniren left for the kitchens, Narin employed the candle to light a pair of oil lamps and the already-laid fire, keen to drive out the winter chill that had permeated the room. Rhe stood to one side of the window as Narin worked, taking careful note of the faces turned in their direction. Only when Narin had finished with the fire, shucked off his heavy coat and unbuckled his sword, did Rhe glance back.
‘What?’ Narin asked irritably. ‘You see anyone out there?’
‘Only your friend, circling the block.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Perhaps. It occurs to me, however, that if there’s a second faction searching for you, we do not know what we’re looking out for. Wyvern soldiers are easy to notice, unknown Astaren less so.’
Narin grunted. ‘If it helps, Enchei doesn’t reckon they’ll be Astaren.’
‘He’s sure?’
‘Seems to be. He says they’re more likely to be mercenaries in the pay of one – shamans hiring their skills out rather than elite soldiers on a mission. Gealann, he called them.’
‘At last some good news, then.’
‘Really?’ Narin said with a puzzled face. ‘How?’
‘The world of the Astaren is closed to the likes of us, but we’ve already met someone akin to a shaman during our investigation. Their world is not so insulated from the normal course of things, they are not untouchable. Our district posts may yet provide a useful thread to follow through this maze.’
Narin nodded, finally understanding. ‘So nothing for it but to wait, for our new favourite novice or Enchei.’
He looked down at the fire and gave a weak smile before laying his heavy coat on the floor in front of it.
‘In that case, I’m going to sleep like a dog. Wake me when there’s someone to bite.’
*
Hands clasped within the warm sleeves of his silvery fur coat, Kebrai watched the ship ease into dock. His characteristic lilac eyes sought one figure amongst those on board, but all on deck were hidden from the cold in heavy woollen robes or luxurious white furs. Kebrai knew just from the ship’s lines that it was House Leviathan in origin, but the stylised whale shape at the prow made that clear to the whole Empire. The ship was an ocean-going trader of the Etrage merchant House, one of several that operated from the Ren archipelago off House Moon’s southern coast.
A line of three triangular flags down its mast declared its home port while the purple sails, when raised, bore the cask and bottle emblem of Etrage – echoed on the bronze brooch Kebrai currently wore. He pictured the port, Ren Jir, in his mind – a far cry from the great city he stood in now, but a sight that lived long in the memory. Modest in size, Ren Jir was an over-sized town built on ground hard-won from the island’s forests, surrounded by giant trees that stood close to five hundred feet tall. Some rose out of the sea itself up to a mile off-shore, creating channels their ships were forced to keep to, while those on land loomed to create a daytime twilight filtered green and red.
Preventing the jungle from reclaiming the city was a constant struggle for the inhabitants, but there was gold of a sort all around that kept the effort worthwhile. Wealth hung from those very trees besieging Ren Jir in the form of the rusty fronds of a parasitic plant. Jirrin was the spice that underpinned the wealth of the House of Etrage and the ship’s hold would be full of tightly-packed linen bundles of dried Jirrin, ready to be ground to powder.
Its hot, earthy flavour had paid for labourers from House Moon to wage war against the jungle in Ren Jir – just as it had paid for the polar bear furs worn by the disembarking merchant and his associates, and the intricate gold filigree on the lapels of each that declared their position within the merchant house.
To Kebrai’s surprise, there was an outsider among them – pale enough to be mistaken for a Leviathan perhaps, but as soon as the woman set off down the gangway ahead of the rest he saw she was not. The high collar of her coat and hat half hid her face, but she glanced in his direction and he recognised the sharp features of House Eagle along with the purple collar of the noble caste.
A potential employer, or something else? Kebrai wondered, blinking in surprise at the sight. Jester’s Cold Heart – they’re just who we don’t want involved here. Bastards or fanatics they are, usually both. It’s not often I’m rooting for House Dragon, but the sooner those two go to war the better – and the better for us if Dragon come out on top. Damn House Eagle to the lower hells with its Mindwalkers and Storm Paladins. This life’s fickle enough without getting knifed by som
e mind-stolen friend or the like.
Before he could fathom what her presence indicated, the Eagle noblewoman headed off in the other direction and the main group reached him. The principal among them was a man of mixed descent, a beguiling combination of Leviathan’s greyish hair and purple eyes, and the dusty-dark skin of House Moon. Tall and elegant, he had all the poise of an Imperial, though his blue collar showed he was indeed merchant caste.
Around him were four clerks in anonymous dark woollens from varying minor Houses under Leviathan, while a knot of brutal-looking House Shadow mercenaries followed. Rather more notable was the bodyguard standing in the merchant’s lee, her red hair flying loose in the breeze. Though she wore a white fur too, it was open at the front to reveal a scarlet and white tunic with polished silver clasps as well as ornate pistols and sword. Kebrai gasped inwardly as he realised she was a Banshee – a member of House Siren’s renowned elite warrior cadre.
The merchant approached Kebrai, seeing he wore the mark of the House of Etrage, who bowed respectfully.
‘A cold day for a vigil,’ the man said. ‘Is demand for Jirrin so high that you would wait here for us to arrive?’
‘Business, I regret, is somewhat slowed by the weather,’ Kebrai replied. ‘My vigil was not for Jirrin however.’
He grunted. ‘Not here for me? Very well, I expected as much. Ainai, I will wait to hear from you – Frasin, you will oversee the unloading.’
Kebrai bowed as one of the clerks scuttled back to the ship, waving over the harbour porters who were waiting nearby. Kebrai had already secured their services so the valuable cargo would not be waiting out on the dock and a dozen handcarts stood behind the porters to transport the Jirrin bundles to their warehouse.
Without a further word the merchant swept past Kebrai, clearly familiar with the route to the offices they maintained in the Imperial City. The Banshee gave Kebrai a hard look as she followed and the rest were quick to fall in behind, all except one.
The clerk called Ainai was as tall as any of them, but stood with head bowed as though trying to hide that fact. Without speaking the woman looked up and fixed Kebrai with a small smile – one that chilled his blood, though it was familiar enough. She was striking to look at – fine cheekbones and delicate features – but unearthly for it.
Only a fool would call her beautiful. Her looks could strike a room silent but it was through wonder or terror, not desire. For desire there needed to be a spark of life and Priest at rest looked as vital as a perfectly-embalmed corpse – ageless and soulless.
‘A chilly welcome, Kebrai,’ Priest said, ‘I hope your news will warm my heart instead.’
‘Priest,’ Kebrai acknowledged, resisting the urge to kneel. ‘I have news at least. I am uncertain of how far progressed you would like events to be by now.’
Like everything about his master, her name was a mystery even to Kebrai. Even the title of Priest was something of a misnomer. It was an obscure designation from her past rather than a comment on her caste, informing only an exclusive few as to what Priest had once been.
‘Ready to be concluded,’ Priest said with a twitch of her lip. Behind her, almost half the crew of sailors paused in their unloading and all looked up as one – staring for a moment at Kebrai before returning to their duties as though nothing had happened.
Kebrai stifled a shudder. Sea Snake Devotees, he realised. Here to take the prey.
He couldn’t help but stare at the nearest; dead white face and pale blue eyes. His mouth was a cruel reptilian slit, almost lipless with a black tongue inside.
Our own warrior cult, but without the honour or dignity of the Banshees. How many has she brought? Twenty? I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many employed at one time. She must be as hopeful as Sorpan about what this renegade could tell us.
‘We are not yet ready,’ Kebrai said, his mouth dry, ‘Sorpan demands caution at every step, but there is progress. Sharish has the scent and houndsmen will be walking the streets this evening.’
‘I sense there is something more,’ Priest said. ‘You have more than the usual look of a mouse about you.’
Kebrai ducked his head. ‘Sorpan has discovered a complication, perhaps two.’
‘And they are?’
‘The proximity of a well-known Lawbringer to the prey, and an overlapping hunt.’
‘Hunt?’ Priest said, one eyebrow faintly raised. ‘We have competitors?’
He shook his head. ‘They are hunting a friend of the prey; Wyvern warriors on a mission of honour. Sorpan has suborned four and they now serve Sharish as houndsmen, but there are others and they have the backing of a nobleman.’
To his surprise, Priest smiled at that.
‘House Wyvern, you say? What a curious turn of events.’
She drew her heavy woollen cloak tight around her body and nodded towards the direction the merchant was walking in, still visible through the diminished numbers on the Harbour Walk.
‘Come – tell me everything on the way.’
CHAPTER 17
Narin awoke in the afternoon to find Enchei come and gone, Novice Tesk arrived and his own wits somewhat restored after those precious hours of sleep. Tesk had brought the reports they had been waiting for and shown the presence of mind to question each Investigator as she did. As a result, Narin found himself hurriedly swallowing a few mouthfuls of food while Rhe read aloud the report on shamanism and old religions of the lands of House Iron – most particularly the high plateau region shared by Houses Redeve and Gold.
Aware the daylight was against them, longest night a mere Ascendancy away, Rhe and Narin set out for the north of the city, leaving Tesk in the rented room to check the remaining reports before returning to her duties. In his paranoid state Narin felt the girl’s calculating gaze watch him all the way out of the door – ambitious novices were often more than willing to jockey for the attention of a Lawbringer like Rhe – but once out on the snowy streets his more real concerns took over once more.
They crossed the Imperial District and headed for the Mason’s Bridge that wove a stepping-stone path across the narrower north-western edge of the Crescent. As luck would have it, the lesser bridge across the Crescent led straight into House Iron District and little more than half an hour after waking, Narin found himself on the mainland side looking back at those following. The dark stone bridge was narrow and old, its shoulder-high parapet crested with snow. Just five yards across at any point, it afforded a good view of all those crossing in their wake and, despite their investigation, Narin found himself anxiously lingering as he watched for Wyvern faces above the heads of the locals.
‘Enchei didn’t say where he was going?’
At his side, Rhe shook his head. ‘Only that he had urgent business and was fetching Irato to watch over you.’
‘Did it look like he had a lead?’
‘More the opposite,’ Rhe said. ‘He looked like a man haunted, driven to desperate measures.’
‘It’s affected him this much? I’m surprised. He’s lived as a hunted man for almost two decades now.’
‘And now the hunt is closing in. Whether or not he was sure before, the death of Administrator Serril’s far too much of a coincidence to ignore. If his former paymasters are behind this, they know exactly what he’s capable of – and what they need to do to take him.’
‘So they hire in outsiders, mercenaries, for the hunt itself, to avoid risking conflict with House Dragon?’
‘It would be a logical move,’ Rhe said. ‘The goshe affair was a distraction, it postponed the war between Houses Dragon and Eagle, but the tensions remain and the Imperial City is technically a Dragon protectorate.’
Narin scowled, lifting his head slightly as he caught sight of a dark face on the bridge, only to realise they wore a white servant-caste scarf, not the red of a warrior. While their sullied honour might be the reason they wanted to kill him, no warrior caste would stoop to such a demeaning subterfuge.
‘Aye, wouldn’t want them to ca
ncel plans for a brutal war now, would we? Only a fool’d hope the distraction was enough, that they might take the opportunity to step back and not bother with the slaughter.’
Rhe inclined his head. ‘Hope does not make one a fool, but certainty of belief will give him a jester’s crown. They are great powers with a history of enmity and a shared border – one preeminent in the Empire, the other determined to be. Neither will rush into war, but it will happen and the other Houses are cautious of provoking Dragon in the Imperial City. No one wants to be on the receiving end of House Dragon asserting its authority, not when they were denied the chance to make an example of the goshe.’
‘So what makes these Gealann so ignorant?’ Narin asked ‘Or so greedy that they’re willing to take such risks? Or do House Dragon only care about the actions of other Houses right now?’
‘Perhaps Enchei angered his former masters so greatly they’d be willing to offer him as a prize? They punish the deserter and send a brutal message to their own ranks, but how far could revenge go? Far enough to reward the mercenaries with whatever secrets they can pry from Enchei’s mind and body?’
With a gesture Rhe indicated they had waited enough and the pair set off down the Public Thoroughfare running through the heart of Iron District. The cold had barely impacted business on the busy street – shops of every kind lined the wide avenue all the way to the wedge-shaped fortress that split it in two, left and right towards the districts flanking Iron.
‘It’s quite a risk.’ Narin admitted hesitantly, ‘but Enchei’s in no doubt what’ll happen when he dies, he’s warned me of it several times. What if his former masters could be reasonably certain of that? Maybe not so great a risk when they made him the man he is before training him how to think and act.’
‘An informed calculation,’ Rhe said, nodding in agreement. ‘A far more satisfactory interpretation – but it means there might yet be an agent monitoring events, ready to step in should the mercenaries fail entirely.’
‘Oh, thanks for that happy little aside,’ Narin said with a snort and a shake of the head. Want to piss on my mood a bit more?