His duty did not permit him to acknowledge his grudging admiration for a man who could fight like that.
"It must have been a fine fight." Belder grinned eagerly from ear to ear. He was young, fresh off the farm as they say, with none of Endam's jaded experience in violence. "I wish I'd been here to see it!"
Ninecount, a thief Endam had cause to know well, was sitting nearby, a fresh tankard of ale in front of him at the table. "I wish I hadn't!" The man's voice was half-panicked as he gulped his drink. "I wish I hadn't!"
A fruitless hour later, Endam left the tavern. He had heard the story from all of the witnesses, and he had a clear picture of what had happened. The killings left him with no choice but to speak to Baron Brego, but he could wait until morning to begin the trip to Pulflover.
In the meantime, he sent messages to the nearby towns ordering the arrest for questioning of Tuchek. He didn't need to make a description, for the Aulig was a known man.
If the Baron was somehow behind this fiasco, Endam would need to know how to deal with it. On the one hand, the Baron had ordered him to keep his hands off the Aulig mercenary, and had implied his protection. On the other hand, the Baron had apparently sent these men to capture him, or at least that was what they'd said.
Looking them over, Endam noted that with the exception of the dead nobleman, they had the look of worthless thugs. They were all strangers to Endam, and that was odd, for he reckoned he knew most all of Brego's men, even the ones the Baron didn't acknowledge as in his employ.
The dead man in the fine clothing especially troubled him. The man had the look of the gentry, and Endam noted the fine sword and the soft, gentleman's hands. If he was highborn, this was trouble. Big, stinking, political trouble.
As he walked away from the scene, the frustrated warder noticed the beggar in the alley. "Lio's Spear!" He muttered to himself as he walked by. The sallow-skinned man was prostrate on the ground, with what looked like several real gold coins scattered around his knees in the mud. The blind man didn't even have the decency to wrap his eyes, and the empty sockets gave his face a skull-like appearance. The beggar had no hands, but seemed to be praying to some unseen idol in a language Endam had never heard.
It was disgusting what drink and the diseases of vice could reduce a man to, and Endam was suddenly glad he'd given it up years ago. Still, he had important things to do now, and no time to waste on the misbegotten creature. The beggar would just have to look after his own coin.
Ch 8: Levin in Mortentia City
Levin Askelyne approached the waterfront carefully, mindful to keep the hood of his cloak drawn tightly about his head to conceal his sharply delicate features. The shadows of evening coming on helped, although he would have preferred to make the trip in the full darkness of night. He did not have the luxury of waiting for nightfall.
He unconsciously jingled the few gold coins he had left in his pocket. His luck had gone bad since the night he'd discovered the men going through his father's room, and he'd been unable to break even at the gaming tables or even rolling bones in the back alleys. Normally his gambling was moderately successful, and he was able to make enough to pay for his room and board, although he periodically had runs of bad luck when he had to write his father for a little extra seed money.
Now his father was dead, and there would be no more money from home.
The only thing positive he could say for himself was that he had no debts. Up until a month ago, his luck had been consistently good, and he'd managed to pay back the moneylenders and the sharks who held his markers. He'd even gotten ahead a few dozen gilders.
Now he was down to less than ten of the gold coins, which, although still a small fortune for a peasant, was hardly enough coin to support him in the style he liked. His friends, other irresponsible sons of distant lords, had disowned him as his gambling became more and more skilled. It was no fun playing against a man when you knew he would beat you, especially when it became obvious that he was playing for bread money, not just distraction.
They were subtle in their abandonment of Levin, but invitations no longer came to his door and his friends passed him on the street without greeting him. He no longer rumbled, detached from the street, in elaborately painted carriages and coaches. He no longer felt welcome among the mansions of the Suzerainty, and it had been at least a week since he'd crossed the bridge from the common quarter to the north part of the city.
That was not the worst of it. For the past few days he'd felt another kind of pressure. Men had been asking questions, he'd been told, looking for him. He was familiar enough with the enforcers of his previous creditors to know that it was none of them looking for him, plus, he owed no money that he could think of. If it had been knee breakers, they could have found him easily enough.
No, the people looking for him were strangers to the King's Town, else they would have found him by now. Then had come this afternoon, when he'd gone back to his flat to find the door ajar, his things cast about on the floor carelessly. He'd only caught a glimpse of his room, for he'd seen the open doorway and continued on down the narrow hall as if looking for someone else. He hadn't dared enter, for some sixth sense told him that someone waited within. Someone he had no desire to encounter.
He was wise enough to keep no money in his rented room, nor anything else he couldn't easily part with. He was a gambler, not a fool.
Still, the likely presence of a man in his room and the rumors of people looking for him could hardly be coincidence. On top of his father's murder and the probable involvement of Elderest… No one had to draw Levin a picture. If Elderest had gotten rid of his father, the sons would be the next logical targets. Elderest's men would be unfamiliar with the common quarter of the King's Town, too.
That left Levin faced with a decision among a narrowing range of choices. He couldn't return to his flat, nor could he return to the life of a casual gambler, not with looking over his shoulder all the time. He had a few highborn friends left, but he could think of none that would shelter him from the Duke of Elderest.
He looked up into the deepening gloom of night and watched as one of the king's eyes launched her great bird from the eyrie on top of the Palace Mount. The great tower was just visible between two buildings, but the eagle was a stark shadow against the deep blue of the twilit sky. If only he could escape the King's Town so easily.
The small figures of lamplighters passed him by on the street, the boys laughing at each other while carrying the torches, poles and braziers they would need to light the scattered street lamps. Across the bridge in the Suzerainty, there was a light on every corner, and few places lay in shadow, even in the deepest night. Here in the common quarter only the main streets were lit, while the empty back alleys lay in concealing darkness. Still, Levin knew the alleys like the backs of his hands, and the darkness was his silent shield and companion rather than something to fear.
In the dockside, things would be different. The maze of stinking alleys and dark streets surrounding the great Jagle Bay piers were places to fear at night, but it was to these very havens of crookthieves, mercenaries, cutpurses and worse that Levin was drawn. No lamplighters walked the cobbles and planks of the waterfront. The soldiery of Elderest would need to be desperate indeed to search for him there. Only a fool or a criminal would pass that way by night.
Idly, Levin wondered which one he was.
There was no easily seen demarcation between the common quarter and the waterfront. The boundary grew out of a steadily growing sense of shabbiness in the buildings, the widening gaps between the pools of light cast by the streetlamps, the presence of dilapidated and empty ruins of once proud houses and the present and ever-rising dark water. Many streets abruptly ended in canals, and many buildings could only be reached by sampans or small boats. The King's Town was slowly sinking into the sea that gave it life, and many buildings had already surrendered entirely, with mere underwater foundations remaining in the shallows of Jagle Bay.
To Elithea Bri
tic the great Jagle Bay held no mystery. During autumn, the winds would drive waves through the windows on the abandoned first floor of her building and she would need to move her stores upward. She had men to do that for her. The long boats from town would stop coming in the winter and she would move to her cottage north of the King's Town. For now it was early summer, and the tavern she ran on the second and third floor of her building was doing a brisk business. King’s men had repaired last winter’s damage to the wooden walk from the trader's market, and the townspeople came across it to mingle with the sailors brave enough to dare the Sailor's Haven, her tavern. She had divided the fourth floor into six small rooms, and her girls did a brisk business of their own.
She sat in her luxurious room on the fifth floor, where she permitted only herself to go, and contemplated Levin D'root, recently become Levin Askelyne. She ran gold coins through her fingers as she considered him.
The men from Elderest had been insistent, and even though she liked Levin -everyone did, really- gold was gold. She sighed heavily.
Levin had a gift, he really did. Here she was, past forty winters -she didn't tell anyone how far past- and he'd made her feel beautiful and young. She had known what he was after, for her wealth was taken as a given among the waterfront drifters, but still. He was handsome after his own fashion, with his long hair and sensuous lips more pretty than masculine, but delicate and refined in a dissolute sort of way.
She felt bad about what she had to do.
It wasn't just the gold; it was the implied threat behind the gold. If the church's damned godsknights found out what really went on in her place… She had no desire to spend her last years of beauty in the Blackhill Dungeon of Orr.
And really, all she had to do was light a lamp and hang it in her bedroom window.
If he came -no, when he came, for he had no place else to go- she would invite him up, light the lamp and wait. That was all she had to do.
And he would die.
Levin made it to the deserted market place without running afoul of any of the waterfront's evening denizens. With the hood about his face, he probably presented enough of a mystery that the robbers were uncertain about him. Did they know of the gold he carried, or even that he carried gold, they would put him in the bay, sure.
He walked quickly and surely, knowing that the slightest hesitation would bring him unwanted attention. What he needed was a road stake and a way out of the King's Town that didn't take him through any of the well-watched gates. Elithea would help.
He genuinely liked the woman, even though she was old enough to be his mother. Their nights together had been serene, for him. He knew that she thought he was only after her gold and her favor, truth be told he'd gotten some of both. Still, he liked her.
Besides that, he had no one else.
He walked across the boards spanning the gap between the market and the Sailor's Haven. He felt a shiver of apprehension as he approached the door to the tavern. Surely, no one from Elderest had ever heard of this place or knew of his connection with it. It wasn't that he'd kept it secret. If anything, his association with the Sailor's Haven had lent an air of roguishness to his reputation, an air of dark mystery that only enhanced his standing with the reckless young lords of the Suzerainty. But if Elderest's men were looking for him, they wouldn't come here.
As he entered the poorly lit tavern, he saw D'seell, standing next to a customer. The pretty whore got more attention than any of the other five girls Elithea employed here as 'waitresses'. Elithea'd said that the girl was probably holding out on her, taking extra tips that she didn't bother to turn over to her mistress, but she'd laughed as she said it. "Let her be ambitious. She still brings in more business than any two other girls."
Levin knew better than to make more than a passing acquaintance with any of Elithea's girls. The proprietress might feign disinterest, but Levin had no desire to test the limits of her jealousy. Two of her bully-boys stood at the ends of the bar to keep the dozen or so half-drunk sailors in line. Four or five towners were in the Haven tonight, as well as the sailors. Levin lowered his cloak and walked casually through the men.
D'luc noticed him and nodded. The bartender knew enough to let Levin mount the stairs toward the top chamber. He was one of Elithea's favorites, although D'luc hadn't seen him in a while. The gambler must be out of money again, he thought, but he kept it to himself. Elithea's business was her own, and no waterfront barkeep was foolish enough to nose into his bosses' affairs, business or otherwise.
Levin nodded back absently. As he did so, he caught a warning look in D'seell's eye. He wondered what it was about, but he didn't have time to talk to her. Elithea's door opened under his second knock.
"Hello beautiful." He put on his most charming face.
"Hello, Levin. Come in."
Elithea's room always surprised Levin, every time he came. Although few were ever permitted to enter the private sanctum she'd built on top of her tavern, its appointments and furnishings were as luxurious as anything seen in the Suzerainty. Here alone she displayed the trappings of her wealth, and permitted not even the whores who made the money she lived on to see it. She permitted Levin, however, and she changed the furnishings frequently. Idly he ran a hand over the gilded settee that formed the centerpiece of the room, even as he glanced at the crossed swords hanging on the wall. Did Elithea harbor the dream of one day putting a noble crest on that wall? If money alone could buy highborn status, she would. She certainly was worth more than his father had been.
"I've missed you, Elithea."
She laughed and sighed. "I hardly believe that, Levin. The way you've been cavorting all over the quarter, throwing money away… You've hardly had time to miss me. Run dry, have you?"
"Not yet, my dear waterfront flower. Not yet." His reply sounded sincere, at least to his ears. "I just needed to see an old love and have a moment of peace before I leave town."
"Are you leaving, then?"
"With your help I hope so."
"Then come and let me have a good look at you so I can remember our times together." She carried the lighted lamp toward him as he stood before her. "By Lio's light, you are beautiful." She gave a sigh of regret.
She put the lamp in the window when she finished her inspection. She sighed again. It was not easy being Elithea Britic.
He mistook her sigh for something else. "I don't have to leave immediately." He began to unbutton his shirt, grinning mischievously. She hooded the lamp as he took her in his arms.
From an alley in the empty marketplace, Denjar Leetham saw the light in the window. He saw it go out again. It was enough.
What Tuchek was to Baron Brego D'Tarman, Denjar Leetham was to Duke Maldiver D’Cadmouth of Elderest. A simple man, a blooded warrior with no title at all, a man who could get things done without ever mentioning them again. The four men he had with him were the dregs of the waterfront, men hired for a purpose. They were to be used, then discarded, never to be used again. They would not remember having met him, if asked. They knew nothing. They would remember nothing. He had made it clear to them what would happen if they did remember.
"What, does we go and get him now, den?"
"No." Denjar's voice was quiet, deceptively peaceful. "I promised no blood on her floor."
"Dere's a lot of ways out of 'at place." Complained the man. Denjar did not know his name. He did not need to, any more than the man needed to know his. "He could give us de slip."
"He won't. He will come back out the front door."
The man remained quiet, undoubtedly counting gold in his mind.
Elithea never ceased to amaze him, and that was part of her charm. Where before their lovemaking had been the gentle and mature play between friends, tonight…
Well, Levin had always imagined that he was the passionate one. The fierceness of their lovemaking surprised him. And there toward the end… Had she been crying? As he lay beside her Levin looked up at the dark ceiling, put one hand behind his head and smiled. H
e really was going to miss her.
They made all the arrangements in the whispering dark afterward. In the morning there would be a small fishing boat waiting for him half a mile up the bay. The fishing boat would take him out, as if going to the islands in the estuary, and then swing wide to land on the western shore. From there he was on his own, although Elithea had given him the name of an innkeeper he could call on for the loan of a fast horse. As long as he could get out of the city, he was satisfied. He closed his eyes.
Elithea sat with her eyes open, listening to Levin snore lightly beside her. He was always warm in bed, thin as he was, and she drew closer to him to gather in some of his heat. Lio knew that soon enough that heat would fade to nothing. Those men outside could wait.
"What's takin' em so dam long?"
"Never mind that, you've been well paid. He'll be coming out before sunrise."
The jagtooth grumbled irritably, fidgeting. "Could've spent de night in bloody bed if we'd know'd he weren't goin' to rise til mornin."
Denjar ignored the man.
D'seell had spent a long and restless night. Her room was next to the stair, and she had waited for the sound of Levin's footsteps coming down. She had not slept at all. A lot more went on behind her pretty face than most folks realized, and she well knew what waited for Levin out front.
Finally, in the quarter before dawn, she heard the door above her room close quietly. She opened her door.
War of the Misread Augury: Book One of the Black Griffin Rising Trilogy Page 7