The humans who lived in this village were taller than the Rabash blood and stronger over short periods, but the Rabash whom the humans called goblins were tougher, more built for stamina than speed or strength. A well-trained and very fit human could run for perhaps an hour at most but the average Rabash could keep up the same pace for three or four times as long.
Kratok-Chal knew there were other humans in this land. It would be a good hunting ground, even if he felt strange being so far from the rocks he knew. Perhaps his kind had been done a favour, he considered, when they had been exiled and forced on this journey. He hadn't felt that way at the time, but Kratok-Chal knew that there was a balance to life. It was a balance he looked forward to maintaining, because he knew it would fill the emptiness in his belly with the fullness of warm meat.
Few humans used to come the territories of the Rabash and the most recent ones had come with fire and iron. Their homes had been destroyed and so they had been forced out of the mountains and into the human lands. It could be worse, Kratok-Chal considered, at least the humans here had no hostility in them, and they seemed to be in plentiful supply. This was a good hunting ground and the prey was more worthy.
A few days' east of Andon, but still a couple of days' north of Fayence, Gabriella DeZantez was glad to see the end of a long ride and curious to see how her and Erak's destination looked. The pair were accompanied by a couple of dozen men-at-arms and a handful of squires and apprentices, as was common for Knights on the road. Since they had now been assigned to Solnos, and there was no Preceptory of the Swords there. The foot-soldiers would be assigned to duties at the church in town until called upon.
The short column clattered across a sun-bleached but solid wooden bridge. The river it crossed was neither wide nor fast; it curled around the northern outskirts of town, caressing it with gentle waters. Beyond the town, an escarpment rose to the south before sloping away in the direction of Fayence.
The town itself was a little smaller than Kalten and it sprawled across the savannah between river and escarpment. An archway stood over the approach from the bridge, but there was no wall around the town. The one and two-storey buildings seemed to be mostly made of adobe bricks, formed around a wooden framework. Tiny black window-spaces peeped out here and there from the blinding white plaster. Gabriella thought they were strangely like black eyes watching her and she was sure there were real eyes inside, doing exactly that. The thought amused her. A few of those eyes would be alarmed or hateful, but most would be curious and excited. As if proving her thought correct, several children emerged cautiously from the adobe houses and scuttled alongside them, admiring the horses and riders.
A few children were playing stickball in the street and Gabriella couldn't help smiling. They were just who she was here to protect.
The travellers drew a few curious, suspicious or downright hostile looks, but most people ignored them. They were too busy trading at the market that dominated the town square. Gabriella looked around, admiring the banners and paper lanterns that hung above and the bolts of silk in shops that hid under bright awnings.
The smell of food fought with other, less palatable, smells but none of them deflected her from the scent of spices coming from a three-storey brick and wood building on the next corner. The carved shutters over the windows were open and folded back, so she could see almost entirely through the ground floor.
The place was well-populated, with steaming bowls on many tables, and laughing faces enjoying their contents. A couple of girls in tight, if well-worn, silks were ferrying bottles and mugs around.
There was a second, smaller square, with an elaborate fountain, a short way past the market. This plaza was open in front of the church. The church was bleached as bone-white as everything else in the region. Three walls were thick adobe, faced with whitewashed plaster. Facing the fountain was a sandstone façade with a turret at each end and a dome-covered bell tower. Roasting gibbets were elevated in all four corners, but none were occupied. Judging by the rust on them, none had been used in a long time.
As the short column approached the church, a number of people had followed them. They could sense that something interesting was in the offing. Gabriella was glad to see this reaction; it would do them good to see the Faith come here and reassure them that it would look after their souls as diligently as it looked after the souls of Vos families.
A couple of streets away, Dai Batsen watched the knights of the Swords canter along. He was on a balcony and the sun was at his back, but he knew they couldn't see him for he had gathered the shadows around himself.
There was only one woman in the group, a red-headed Knight holding herself proud in the saddle. There were no other groups of the Swords in the area, so this was certainly the DeZantez woman, the first of his targets. He gathered the air in front of him, creating a magnifying effect. Now he could study her features. The arched eyebrows, the nose, and most especially those distinctive mismatched eyes. He'd have no trouble recognising her again. As if drawn by his gaze she turned her head, frowning slightly.
Now he looked at the faces of the men in the group. The only mounted man was in his prime, lean with a face full of sharp lines. It was reasonable to assume that this was Erak Brand, if the two targets were of equal rank. Batsen never assumed anything, however, and wished to be sure that there had been no changes to the knights' manpower before the left Andon. It wouldn't do to kill this man and then find that Brand had been held back for some reason.
It would be a simple enough matter to ride down in wind and shadow and eliminate the entire group, but then he could not be sure that he wouldn't still have to find and deal with Brand. And as he was being paid to eliminate two people, he didn't believe in charity.
No, the best approach would be to watch DeZantez and let her confirm Brand's identity for him. Then he could take them both together and collect his fee with the minimum amount of fuss.
Gabriella and Erak dismounted in the little plaza in front of the church, and a couple of squires immediately took the horses' reins and led them towards the stables near the cloisters. Gabriella arched her back and yawned.
"So, this is home while we pursue our man."
Erak nodded. "I imagine it's too much to hope he's right here in town."
"We'd have heard all about it from Enlightened One Stoll if he was." Gabriella flashed him a smile. "But where would the fun be in that?"
She looked around at the little plaza and the people in it. She knew Erak had been expecting the people of Pontaine to be wearing different clothes, or be somehow foreign in appearance, but she knew better. There were more pastel colours, but in general people wore much the trews and jerkins and robes as did the people in the Empire. The main difference seemed to be that clothes were less padded here as it was noticeably warmer this far south.
The church door opened and a tall, thin man with untidy straw-coloured hair emerged. He hurried down the stone steps to greet the new arrivals, smoothing down the sky-blue robes that he wore. A silver crossed-circle rattled on a fine chain as he approached with an eager smile.
"Enlightened Brother, Enlightened Sister, please allow me to welcome you to Solnos and, indeed, to Pontaine. I'm Kurt Stoll." He thrust out a hand, which Gabriella shook.
"Gabriella DeZantez," she said, "and Erak Brand. And, as it happens, this is something of a homecoming for me. I was born in Andon."
Stoll raised his eyebrows. "Andon, eh? There's a DeZantez at the Cathedral archive there... Marta, isn't it?"
"My mother," Gabriella confirmed. She liked this man immediately and was surprised to realise how quickly she was beginning to feel at home.
"Of course," he said warmly. "The resemblance is obvious." He hesitated and glanced at Erak. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Brother Brand. I didn't mean to exclude you. It's been such a long time since I enjoyed the company of my fellow clergy. Please, come inside. If you wish to pray, confess, eat, or simply freshen yourselves after your journey, it will be so."
> "They all sound good to me," Erak said. "Freshening-up first, though."
"Definitely," Gabriella agreed.
She went to find a suitable cell in the cloisters. It was simple but comfortable, with a low bed, a chair, stool, table, water-basin and jug. She hauled off her mail shirt and hung it on a beam and sank gratefully into the chair. She felt that she stank and briefly wondered whether any of the townspeople would mind if she spent some time in their fountain. She smiled to herself, deciding that, having just come to put an end to one source of moral laxness, it wouldn't do to risk being the inspiration for the next one.
She washed in water from the jug and changed into a tunic and jerkin, with a white tabard bearing the symbol of the Faith over it all.
Erak had done likewise, and now they were both ready to join the Enlightened One for refreshments.
No-one in the crowded tavern on the corner of Solnos' market square paid much attention to Dai Batsen. He was just another customer, leaning against a wall.
Even the tapster behind the bar hadn't noticed that this customer had been nursing the one mug all afternoon.
Batsen himself paid the keenest attention to everyone in the tavern. He could tell at a glance which were the local workmen trying to drown the stresses of a long day; which were the travellers looking for refreshment after a journey; which were the smugglers and thieves; which were the eyes, ears and noses of a Vos Duke, a Pontaine Lord, or the Final Faith.
He was also able to tell which worked in the stables used by the Knights who had recently arrived. He watched as a scruffy-haired burly lad came back from the bar with two mugs of beer. The lad was Kurt Stoll's chief altar boy and Batsen had been buying the lad drinks for the past hour.
"You were saying," Batsen began mildly, "about the new arrivals."
"Yeah, They're going to be staying. Using the church as a base, while they wander around."
Batsen merely raised an eyebrow. "Wander?"
"There are a lot of villages with no church. They'll go out and hear confession and lead prayers, I suppose."
"And only these two Knights are staying?"
"That's what the letters said."
"And their names..."
"Gabriella DeZantez and... Erik Blond, or something like that."
"Erak Brand?"
"That's the one." Batsen sat back, satisfied. He had the confirmation he needed.
The altar boy yawned and blinked sluggishly. "Bloody hell. Strong stuff. The drinks are good here."
"I guarantee you'll never drink anywhere else." Batsen said.
The young man slumped face-first onto the table, snoring low and deep. Batsen stood and slipped out of the tavern while the boy was still breathing. The poison was not the quickest-acting, but it was decent, and actually quite kind. There would be no spasms or fire in his veins; just drunken slumber during which he would stop breathing. Batsen felt no urge to hurt the boy, or cause him pain. He just needed to be sure there would never be any mention of their conversation.
Gabriella and Erak ate with Enlightened One Stoll as he gave them a potted history of both his career and of the church. Gabriella and Erak had both wondered why such a decent sized church was here rather than in Fayence, but it had turned out that an exiled cousin of the then Lord Defender of Vos had built it a hundred years earlier. Relations between the two nations had been better at the time.
"You've heard about the assassination attempt on Eminence Rhodon?" Erak asked and Stoll nodded. "We have information that there may be a connection to a place in this region: the Golden Huntress."
Stoll's face crinkled into a knowing smile. "Ah yes. The Huntress... It's the bane of moral development in this quarter of Pontaine."
"Do you know it?" Gabriella was surprised.
"Well, not directly, but I have heard rumours of girls for sale and the use of Dreamweed. It's one of those places... Everyone knows it exists yet no-one claims to know where it is. You know the kind of thing."
"Well, we intend to find this house of ill-repute and do something about it." Gabriella said.
"It's about time." Stoll said, with a mixture of enthusiasm and relief. "How do you plan to go about it?"
"There must be enough people in Solnos who use the Huntress; we just need to persuade them to tell us where it is. However... unwittingly that might be." Gabriella smiled. "I suggest you drum up some business first thing in the morning. Just provoke some reactions and see if any of them are Brotherhood reactions. They're bound to know we're here, so we may as well act openly."
"And you?"
"Scouting, I think. If the Huntress is as profitable as was implied, it must be large and I didn't see anything large enough in town."
"Unless it's in a loft or a cellar."
"Always the optimist."
Erak propped himself up on one elbow. "Why don't I scout and you sing?"
"You're a better singer."
"That's debatable."
"Not to me."
The next morning Gabriella woke in Erak's arms. She felt both comfortable and strange there. Comfortable because they were joined, protecting each other; strange because it was so different from being on duty together or sparring.
The pledge scroll they had written together was wound tightly and sealed into a silver case lying on a chair opposite. Preceptor DeBarres would sign as witness when he received it, and pass it on to Eminence Voivode. Kurt Stoll had already seen it, of course. He had signed it, as the Enlightened One of their current parish. Once signed, a pledge scroll was binding in the eyes of the Lord of All, whether there was a marriage or not. One child, both signatories willing partners in the creation of a new worshipper.
"Aren't you going to take marriage vows as well?" Stoll had asked.
Gabriella and Erak had exchanged a glance.
"Probably," Erak said. "When I can persuade her to settle down in a parish and stop fighting for a living."
Gabriella had feigned offence. "Look who's talking!"
Stoll had merely given an amused grunt and said: "Well, when the time comes, I hope you'll consider me officiating at the ceremony."
Now that Gabriella was awake it almost seemed like a dream. Erak was dozing beside her and wore a smile that matched the one she felt on her own face. He opened his eyes. "Getting up so early?"
"Force of habit. It's dawn. How's your singing voice, by the way?"
Singing the Hymn of Three Eminences, Erak and a troop of foot soldiers began the next morning marching along the dusty streets. Each man-at-arms wore a blue tabard with the Faith's crossed-circle. They were all devout men and loyal servants of the Swords.
Erak led the way towards the inn on the corner of the market square. They sang nervously at first, but soon lost their inhibitions as they realised no-one was pointing or laughing, and began to enjoy it. Celebrating the Lord of All was supposed to be enjoyed and Erak couldn't understand when people found services or hymns a chore.
As they walked towards the inn, people paused to watch them. A few seemed amused but one or two spat on the ground as they passed, others simply looked on and then went back to their business. A couple of people, mostly children, actually even joined in, though they clearly didn't know the words, and were mumbling vague syllables for most of the song.
By the time they entered the huge inn, even the people who were reacting with disdain found that they couldn't help humming the tune. The reactions were much the same in the inn; again, mostly children joined in, but even those who didn't just shook their heads and went back to their breakfasts.
A man in fine velvets came over immediately. "Enlightened Brother... To what do we owe the honour?"
Erak nodded to the others to stop singing. "I just thought I'd drop by on behalf of Enlightened One Stoll and introduce ourselves. I'm Brother Brand and I just wanted to pass along the message that if you or any of your customers are interested in worshipping the Lord of All at the local church -"
"I'm sure many of my clients will be happy to join
in," he said doubtfully. As if to prove him correct, almost of the people in the inn were rising and heading for the exit. Some had even left their meals on the tables. If Erak needed a demonstration that the Faith was less welcome in Pontaine than in Vos, he had it now. The recent war had only polarised things further, because the Faith had fought for Vos.
A few people were shaking their heads as they left and muttering about not being able to break their fasts in peace. A couple of them glared with hostility. Erak wasn't looking for their reactions, however; he was looking for the hidden expressions, which were more likely to be revealing of true feelings.
A furtive look away here and Erak memorised a face; a hand covering an upper arm, and he wondered if it was covering a Brotherhood tattoo, A friendly smile that didn't reach the eyes was worth watching. Of course, if even one or two people decided to come along to the next Tenthday service, then the visit would have been worth making.
Moving on the Hymn of the Red Clouds, Erak and his followers left the inn. As he passed through the door, he glanced back at the man in the sleeveless jerkin who had covered his arm and saw that he had uncovered his bicep, thinking he was safe. There was a pair of linked circles tattooed there. His eyes met Erak's, and he paled, knowing he had been seen. Erak froze for a moment and the man made his move first. He leaped for the nearest window, crashing straight through it. Erak bolted through the inn after him, while a couple of the soldiers-at-arms ran round the outside of the inn.
Chairs, tables and other diners scattered, tumbling away as Erak barrelled through the dining area and hurled himself through the same space as the Brotherhood man.
The Light of Heaven Page 12