“I’m looking for someone, a one armed elf woman.”
“No elves work here.”
“Not a worker. A customer.”
“How much is this information worth to you?”
Rawk pulled out a five-ithel coin. It was probably a couple of days work for women like these.
One of them got up off the divan and sauntered over to take to money. “I ain’t seen nobody like that.”
“Of course you haven’t. Anyone else?”
“No one armed elves here. I’d remember that.”
“Very well. Thank you for your time.”
“Who are you then? You work for Prince Weaver?”
A voluptuous, dark haired wild-woman on the divan looked at Rawk properly for the first time and pulled herself up straighter. “That’s Rawk, that is.”
The woman one the floor stopped snarling for a moment and tried on a smiled that was even scarier. “You want a freebie, darlin’?”
Rawk grunted. “I’ve brought my healer, and I still wouldn’t touch you.”
“Well, there’s no need for that, now is there.”
“Thank you for your time, ladies.”
Rawk gave a dramatic, ironic bow then strode out into the narrow hallway in an equally dramatic fashion. He was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice the men coming the other way until he had taken half a dozen steps. Then, for a moment, he was so annoyed for not noticing that he didn’t notice the long, curved dagger that man at the front of the line was carrying.
“Path.”
Sylvia still hadn’t notice. “What?”
The hall was a good place to fight. There were at least four men in the line but they would only be able to come at him one at a time. The trouble was, Rawk knew the man would be on him before he had time to draw Slade. So he pushed Sylvia back the way they’d come followed behind, drawing his sword as he went.
He stopped just through the door and turned to fight. It wasn’t ideal; he just had to be pushed back a little and the followers would be able to join in. But he knocked aside the first, experimental attack and ran the man through before he had time to sum up the results of his test. Then next in line was a short, solid man with a scar on his cheek and a smile touching his lips. He would not make the same sort of mistake.
“Not bad, old man,” the stranger said, standing in the doorframe. He shifted his grip on his short-sword. “I’d offer you a job, if you weren’t about to die.”
“Offer me a job?” Rawk shook his head. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“I’ve just come in from Habon a couple of days ago.”
“Well, I’m Rawk. You may have heard of me.”
The man gave it some thought. “No, I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “My name is Franas.”
Franas attacked before he’d finished uttering his name. He came in hard and low and normally Rawk would have stepped back, but that would have let more men through so he held his ground, merely lifting his front leg and letting the sword whistle harmlessly beneath his foot. He was too off balance to counter though, so the opportunity slipped by.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Franas,” Rawk said, holding back a grunt as his sore knee protested. He blocked another attack, but only just, and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his position for long.
He took the chance to look back over his shoulder. Sylvia was watching from the far wall, close to the only other door in the room. Good.
Then next time Franas attacked, Rawk slid the blade aside, then turned and ran, as much as his knee would allow. Franas was surprised enough to hesitate for a moment and that was all that was needed.
“Go, Sylvia,” Rawk said. She stood for a moment, then opened the door and preceded him through. “Keep going.”
“Where?”
But there was only one way to go. To the right was a plaster wall, to the left was a long hallway with doors off just the right hand side.
Rawk pushed on the first door, but nothing happened. Then he pulled and the door squeaked open. It couldn’t go the other way because the room beyond was hardly bigger than the bed it contained. It was occupied by a man and a woman. Neither seemed to be enjoying themselves all that much. Rawk held his breath against the stench of mold and something even worse and quickly pulled open the next door. He discovered a large bald man snoring loudly.
“Are you trying to find a hiding place or a defensible position?” Sylvia asked.
“I’m trying to run.”
But he turned to fight. Three men came through the door but only one at a time could get to him; he had the whole, long narrow hall behind him this time. All he had to do was last long enough to make use of it. But thankfully, Franas had somehow ended up at the back of the line. The first man was younger and bigger. He had red hair and a missing tooth.
“Franas sent you out in front, did he?”
Red grunted.
“Was he too scared?”
Rawk battered away a flurry of attacks, trying not to move too much lest his knee betray him completely. Red was at least twenty years his junior and much too fast. He might have been better than Franas. Rawk took a stinging cut across his shoulder. He deflected another blow and took the flat of the blade on the side of the head. He retreated slightly, half stumbling, and shook his head to clear it. And he barely deflected another blow before somehow finding the focus to get back into the fight. Not that it would do him any good. His ears were ringing and his arm was aching. He was getting slower by the moment and it wouldn’t be long.
Red lunged forward and all Rawk could do was lean out of the way. The bandage around his chest saved him from another long, painful slice. He was sure he wouldn’t be so lucky next time.
“What’s going on out here?” The big, bald man from the side room wasn’t snoring any more. He pushed open the door angrily. It slammed into Red, bounced off his forearm and went back to strike Snorer in the nose.
Rawk slashed wildly in the ensuing moment. He wondered if he had the energy to do more than draw blood, but Slade bit deeply into the other man’s side and he gave out an anguished scream.
“Stay in the room, sir,” Rawk said. “It isn’t safe out here.” The next distraction was as likely to kill Rawk as anyone else.
Sword back at the ready, Rawk took a deep breath and quickly wiped sweat from his eyes. He resisted the urge to retreat even a step. The body on the floor would hamper the next man to come. Hopefully. He calmed his breathing and stood waiting. Blood was trickling down his arm.
And in death, Red did help. The long fingered hand clutched at the next mans breeches as he tried to advance. The stranger looked down for just a moment and Rawk lunged. If he missed he would have died himself, he was sure, but Slade slid between two ribs and slurped back out again as the dead man fell backwards.
Franas stopped a few paces away. “So, why do you think I would know you, old man?”
Rawk shrugged.
“He is a Hero, Franas.” A sorcerer came through the door, smiling. “And not just any Hero. Rawk is one of the great Heroes. Possibly the last of the great Heroes.”
“Queel?” Rawk said. Queel had been pasty and pale the last time Rawk had seen him and it didn’t look like he’d been out in the sun since. Unfortunately, that didn’t affect his magic. “This week is turning into a bit of a reunion, but all of the sorcerers from my past are ending up dead, and I’m still here.”
“Perhaps. But you didn’t actually kill any of them, did you? I her Frixen even managed to out run you before he met his demise.”
“Frixen is dead too?” Rawk said. “Well, the day just keeps getting better. And now I get to kill you, though I should have done it years ago.”
“Of course you should have, Rawk. But you never were the brightest, were you. And now you’ve taken to listening to Silver Lark as well, apparently, so it’s all down hill for you.”
“At least I have a hill to go down, Queel. You worthless little life has been all one endless plain
stretching from horizon to horizon. The only way you’ll get any lower is when you get buried.” Rawk smiled but he couldn’t see anything to be happy about.
“Come, out of the way, Franas; I will handle this myself.”
Franas’ lip twitched but it seemed he was being paid very well for he gave a small nod. “What about the bitch? You said she was a sorcerer.”
Queel looked at Sylvia. “How the mighty have fallen, Silver Lark. I didn’t imagine it would ever come to this, for you of all people.”
“Why would I be different to anyone else?”
“But you are different, aren’t you. Does Rawk not know?”
“It is not his concern.”
“It will be in a moment.”
Rawk watched as Queel started to mumble and wave his hands. He didn’t think his amulets would do much good.
“This is the bit where you do your thing, Sylvia.” He shifted his grip on his sword and looked back at the elf.
“Get down, Rawk.” She started mumbling as well.
Rawk saw the look in her eyes and wasn’t about to argue. Ducking, he tried to cover his head but almost managed to take off an ear with his sword. There was a rustle of clothing, the sound of footsteps, then Rawk saw Sylvia fling her hands forward. A moment later, Queel screamed. He clutched at his face, screamed some more and tore at his eyes, as if there was something he really didn’t want to see. But he didn’t die, so Rawk ran him through and it seemed he was doing everyone a favor.
“Can you just kill him next time?”
“You let me worry about what I am doing.”
“Right. Of course. Because it doesn’t concern me at all.”
Franas wasn’t keen to take up the fight.
Rawk shifted his grip on his sword. “Are you coming?” he asked the man.
Apparently he wasn’t.
Sylvia called out instead. “We have to go, Rawk.”
“What?”
“Balen is here. He’s building a hagakim.”
“What?”
“He needs to be able to see us and the range of the attack is not extensive.”
“What?”
“Run.”
Balen came through from the foyer. “Oh, Sylvia, you spoil all my fun.” The sorcerer smiled.
“Apparently there’s no way out down there,” Franas said to the sorcerer.
“Thank you, Franas.”
Down where, Rawk wondered. He took the risk of looking over his shoulder. Sylvia was running down the narrow hall, holding her robes up away from the floor. “Path.” Rawk started to run as well, though apparently there was nowhere to go. He went through the end door just behind Sylvia, almost running in to her. Balen was striding down the hallway, in no hurry at all.
Rawk slammed the door and looked around. The room was an office that looked much like the foyer in terms of size and design. The pictures painted between the wall frames here were of flowers and birds. There was no other door and just one small skylight that was well out of reach, even standing on the desk and the chair.
Rawk closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to think. He walked his mind through the streets and the alleys around the building, getting his bearings. “I know where we are,” he said eventually.
“I did not know we were lost.” Sylvia was breathing heavily as she searched through her pockets.
There were two sections of wall that were different to the rest. The whitewashed plaster was attached to the face of the timber frames, instead of being set back inside. Rawk took up the chair and hit the wall. The plaster cracked. Another blow and a large chunk fell away revealing the woven timber strands inside. He went at it faster then, hammering as quickly as he could. He could imagine Balen advancing down the hall. Or perhaps he was changing his spell and wouldn’t need line of sight at all.
When Rawk concentrated on his task again he noticed that a couple of the strands had broken. After that, things started to fall apart quickly. The chair. Rawk’s shoulder. The wall. After a couple of more blows, the chair broke completely and Rawk went to work with his boot. It was only a couple of seconds before there was a hole big enough to crawl through.
Behind him, the door exploded. Shards of timber slashed through the room.
Rawk pushed Sylvia through the hole he had made in the wall as Franas edged into sight, sword ready, looking for trouble.
Rawk wanted to escape as well, but there was no time. He realized he was still holding the leg of the chair, though there was no longer any chair attached. He threw the timber, hoping to slow the other...
Franas was caught by surprise. The leg crashed into his face and he fell to the floor screaming. The broken, jagged end had pierced his eye and he was holding the gooey remains in his hands, as if pushing it back in would help. Rawk froze for a moment, but the thought of who might come through the door next pushed him into motion. He followed Sylvia through the hole and out into a narrow alley. His shirt snagged for a moment, but he tore it free and jumped painfully to his feet. He was raced along, trying to catch the elf. In some places, he had to turn sideways to fit between the close-crowding walls. Rubbish covered the ground. Water dripped down from leaking pipes.
Rawk almost ran out of the alley and into the street at the end. But he managed to stop in time and tried to compose himself. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. Sylvia was standing on the other side of the street, half in the door of a shop and half out. She visibly sighed with relief when she saw who had come out behind her. Rawk gave her a small nod and was almost hit by a wagon when he stepped away from the wall.
“Watch it there.”
Rawk looked up at the driver and gave an apologetic wave. “Sorry. Been a long day.”
“Long day,” the man laughed. “It isn’t even lunch time yet.”
“I’m just praying I can make it that far.” He managed a smile and waved the man on. When the wagon had passed he checked the traffic and limped across to Sylvia. He climbed the three stairs slowly, painfully and leaned against the wall by the door. “Should we run a bit further?” He rubbed his knee and drew in some deep breaths.
Sylvia shook her head. “They will not confront us here. It is too risky.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why do you think they waited until we were inside the worst brothel in Katamood?”
“They wanted to celebrate when they were finished?”
Sylvia gave him a withering look. “Yes, I suspect you are correct.”
“I normally am. Just ask Travis.” Rawk drew in another deep breath and noticed a little girl watching him from in front of the next shop. When they made eye contact she shyly walked over and stood examining his boots.
“Can you tell me a story, Mr. Rawk, sir?”
“Well, I...” Rawk was saved the effort of either an excuse or a story when the girl’s mother hurried from the bakery and came to take he hand.
“You can’t wander off like that, Chamay. You don’t know who’s about.”
Balen stepped out of the alley, looking slightly surprised. He dusted off his shirt and looked around.
“Yes,” Rawk muttered, “you don’t know who might be about.”
For a moment it looked like the sorcerer might not notice them, but he saw them and glared in their direction. Sylvia stepped out into the open. She had her hands in her pockets, like she wasn’t worried at all, but her stare could have wilted a cactus.
Rawk thought he could feel the tension in the air, but maybe it was just the midday glare giving him a headache.
Balen looked away first, then wandered off like there hadn’t been a staring contest at all. Sylvia sighed and slumped down on the top stair.
“That went well,” Rawk said.
“I suppose you are right, we are alive, after all.”
“You could take Balen.”
“You really don’t know much about magic, do you?”
“Well... Travis is collecting lots of books for me to study.”
“He is
?”
“Yes, I’ve got a library and everything.”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. She was very good at it.
“I’ve got a book shelf.”
“Fighting against magic with magic is like fighting with a two-handed war hammer while wearing a hat that keeps falling over your eyes. If you want to see what you opponent is doing, you need one of your hands to lift your hat and the hammer is useless. Otherwise, you are swinging blindly.”
Rawk grunted. “You need a rapier.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Should we have followed Balen?”
“No, he will be watching for us. And you probably need to go and find Weaver.”
“Is there a record for the most whore houses a man has visited in a day?”
“Ask Weaver’s tax collector— he probably holds the record.”
“I can’t get out of it, can I?”
“I don’t know how it works.”
“It doesn’t. Not any more.” Rawk sighed. “Come up to the Rest later this afternoon and I’ll show you my library.”
“I hope that isn’t a euphemism.”
“It’s about this big.” He held his hands about a foot apart.
“You may need a bigger library than that to impress me, Rawk, but I shall come and look anyway.”
“Hey, I thought the size of the library didn’t matter. It’s the quality of the books that counts.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He laughed. “I think I’ve had enough of that kind of thing for today.”
“It was all down hill after the Birds and the Bees wasn’t it.”
“Yes, it was. I’m sure you have some patients you can see or something for a while anyway.”
Sylvia shook her head. “I sent Clinker around this morning telling everyone I would be busy for a couple of days.”
“What if they’re dying?”
“Well, it will not do them any good knocking on my door if I’m not there. Their time will be better spent finding another healer.”
“Well, I may have to come and see you later for something to get this smell out of my nose.”
“I will be out of stock by the time I am through using it myself.” She looked him up and down. “Do you need assistance with anything else? Are you injured?”
A History of Magic Page 20