by Pedro Urvi
“With certain things, the less you know until the right moment for it, the better.”
“Why are you telling me all this now?”
“For … a very important reason. In case something happens to me … you have to go on with the mission.”
“Nothing bad’s going to happen to you. And stop saying it, it’s a bad omen.”
“If they capture me – or worse – you make your escape and tell Gerd and Val all this.”
“Egil –”
“And one thing more, very important. An agent from the West is waiting for us at the village of Belgaris, where the Thousand Lakes begin. He has important information about the cure for Dolbarar. You need to find him. His name is Variksen. He’ll be waiting at the pier.”
“We’ll all go there as soon as we finish here,” she assured him.
“Remember all that, just in case …”
Suddenly they saw movement in the storehouse, and four men came out. They wore dark hooded cloaks which melted into the shadows of the night in the barely-lit street. They moved nimbly, and for Zangrians were taller and thinner than usual.
“Are those the ones?” Nilsa whispered.
“No. Those are operatives.”
The two of them moved further back into the shadows, but instead of coming as far as where they were hiding, the four assassins turned north at the crossroads.
Once they had disappeared from sight Nilsa gave a snort of relief. They waited again, but very soon she had more questions.
“And how did you manage to make the father talk, the one whose son was murdered?”
“It was difficult. Really difficult. As he didn’t want gold and I knew I’d get nowhere with force, I tried another angle: justice.”
“Justice? I don’t follow.”
“I promised him justice for his son. He didn’t think I could do it. It took me a long time to persuade him that I had the necessary means, people and confidence. I sent him an agent who told him my plan and what I needed to carry it out, and after thinking about it he decided to help me. He’s a good man, and a brave one. I’m sorry they killed his son. He deserved better things in this life.”
“And did he give you the information you were looking for?”
“That’s right.”
“So, the leader’s here in this building?”
“That’s right. The Guild has several buildings, but it’s directed from there.”
“They’re not going to succeed!” Nilsa said angrily.
“Thanks. I don’t feel like dying so young.”
“I’ve got complete confidence in your plans and ideas. Everything’s going to come out right. I’m sure of that.”
“Your trust in me is a compliment on an enormous scale.”
“Forget the big words and let’s focus. You still haven’t explained even half the plan. How am I supposed to know what you have in mind?”
Egil muffled a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’ll understand everything soon enough. For the moment, just trust me and follow all my instructions.”
“All right. I’ve got my fingers crossed just so everything comes out right. This part of the city really makes me nervous.”
“Luck is always welcome,” Egil said, and he too crossed his fingers.
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.”
“I believe more in thinking things through and making good plans. All the same, I’m not going to refuse a bit of good luck. I’m not crazy.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to need some luck,” Nilsa said. She did not sound very cheerful.
A cat walked past them and gave them a little shock when it appeared silently. It was completely black.
“I have the feeling that we’re not going to be able to count on that good luck,” Egil said sadly.
Chapter 22
The storehouse door opened suddenly with a creak, and four other men came out into the dark street. These were not assassins. Three of them were as broad as they were tall, and looked hard as rocks. The fourth, on the other hand, who was walking in the middle, was an older man with short silver hair which was caught in a beam of moonlight. He was carrying a leather bag across his body, and there must have been something heavy in it, because he walked with his body leaning to the side.
The four men reached the crossroads, and here, instead of turning north like their comrades earlier, they went straight on. They passed Egil and Nilsa, who held their breath and pressed themselves as flat against the wall as they could. The four Guild members failed to spot them and went on their way with slow but firm steps.
“We’ve got to follow them,” Egil whispered to Nilsa as soon as the four were a safe enough distance ahead.
“Do we? What for?”
“That’s our man.”
“The old man with the bag? He didn’t look like a very valuable target to me.”
“Often a person’s value isn’t shown in their appearance. It’s like books: you mustn’t judge them only by their cover, or their title.”
“I hope so,” Nilsa replied. She did not sound altogether convinced.
They started walking after the four men, keeping at a prudent distance. That night, everything, they had learned among the Rangers about stealthy pursuit and keeping themselves hidden in the shadows would come in very useful.
They followed their prey like nocturnal predators, keeping the right distance, avoiding being spotted while never losing sight of them. They passed the tavern and then the inn, which forced them to lag behind a little as the light in front of both buildings was brighter and made it harder for them to hide. They had just dodged a couple of drunks when another emerged from the inn and came up to them.
“Hey! Gertros! You owe me money!” he called to Egil, who was walking in the lead.
“You’re making a mistake, my friend. I’m not Gertros,” Egil replied in Zangrian.
“What d’you mean?” he shouted. “You’re Gertros, and you’re going to pay me what you owe me!” His breath smelt strongly of alcohol.
Two other customers who were on their way out of the inn stopped to stare. Egil tried to dodge him, but he grabbed his arm as he passed. Nilsa reached for her weapons, glancing at Egil as she did so.
“My friend, I repeat that you’re making a mistake. I’m not Gertros.”
“Don’t try to fool me! You’re Gertros! You go everywhere with that hooded cloak hiding your face, but you can’t fool me, I know it’s you.”
Egil glanced ahead at the end of the street. The four men they were after were about to turn the corner, and if they did not follow them at once they would lose them. Nilsa was waiting for his order, ready to act. A couple more customers came out of the inn to witness the spat. There were too many people to get caught up in a fight. He signaled to Nilsa with his eyes to follow the men of the guild.
Nilsa hesitated. She did not want to leave him there with that goon, surrounded by undesirables, but Egil’s expression was insistent.
The man clutched his arm more tightly. “What? Cats get your tongue?”
Egil insisted for a third time. Nilsa, exhaling hard and against her will, went ahead after their prey.
“I have a tongue, but I see that you have no ears,” Egil said firmly. “I’ve already told you I’m not that person.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?” the drunkard laughed.
“I get the impression that you know perfectly well I’m not this Gertros of yours, and what you want to do is to rob me openly.”
The comment stirred the interest of the onlookers. This was going to end in a fight.
“And if that’s true, so what?” He brought his face close to Egil’s. His breath stank.
“Well, that would be decidedly bad.”
“Bad, that’s what he says, the skinny rat!” the man sneered. He looked at the other men, who laughed in mockery. But Egil kept calm, even though the situation was getting more complicated by the moment. He glanced again at the end of the street and saw Nilsa disappearing around
the corner.
“Look, I’m not looking for trouble and I haven’t any gold, so I’m going to go on my way,” he said, and tried to slip out of the man’s clutch.
“You stop right there! You’re not going anywhere!”
The other Zangrians were watching amid laughter and jeering. They were not going to help him. In fact, they wanted this bully to rob him or beat him. Probably both.
“For the last time,” he said threateningly, “let go of me and let me go on my way.”
“And suppose I don’t?” the bully said. He raised his fist to hit him, while with the other he squeezed Egil’s arm more tightly to bar his escape.
Before he could carry out his threat, Egil gave him a quick, accurate kick in the crotch. He launched the blow with all his strength in a move he had perfected, and all the air in the bully’s lungs rushed out in a gasp of pain. He let go of Egil and doubled up with an expression of pure agony on his face. While he was bent double, and before he could recover – which Egil knew would take him some time, thanks to the force of the kick – he kneed him in the jaw, hurling him backwards and leaving him senseless on the ground.
The onlookers cried out in surprise, looking shocked. Egil reached under his cloak for his Ranger knife and short axe, but nobody dared attack him. They moved away amid laughter and jokes about the fallen man, who was still unconscious. Egil ran off after Nilsa and turned the corner, but it was too dark to see the end of the narrow, uneven street. He went along it until he reached another crossroads. There was still no sight of Nilsa, who by now could have taken three different routes. He was assailed by doubt: should he keep going north, or turn east or west?
He crouched and looked down. It was hard enough to see anything on the surface of a city street at night, but in a slum it was even harder. This street had not been swept for months, perhaps a year. To the east he saw two people coming toward him who appeared to have been enjoying themselves and to be carrying more wine inside them than was advisable.
With his face close to the ground, he searched for Nilsa’s footprints. He knew them well: medium size Ranger boot with a deep imprint at the tip, because the restless, nervous redhead walked almost on tiptoe, particularly when things were dangerous or urgent. All he could find were men’s footprints one on top of the other amid the dirt, mud and filth, and he began to lose hope. The two drunkards were coming closer, and he feared there was going to be more trouble.
He went a little further on into the street which crossed.
“Lost anything?” came a mocking voice as it approached.
“If it’s your pouch we’ll help you find it, don’t worry,” said another hoarse voice with a dangerous note in it.
Egil ignored them and went on searching in the middle of the street. A beam of light fell on him from an oil lamp, and luckily it allowed him to see Nilsa’s footprint. He looked for another and saw it further on, heading north. He straightened up and ran.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” came the mocking voice.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two men trying to grab him, but they failed wildly and one of them fell to the ground.
“Don’t go, we’ll give you a little something.”
Egil ran even faster as far as the end of the street and looked in both directions. In a doorway he made out a strange shape which seemed rather out of place. To an untrained eye it would have looked like one more shadow in the dark street, but it caught his attention. He went over to it warily, his hands at his waist, one on each weapon.
A few steps from the shadow he stopped. It had moved. A hand appeared from the gloom and beckoned him. He stepped forward with his eyes peeled. It could be a trap, and he was going straight into it. The hand appeared again and repeated the gesture. He tried to squint to see whether it was Nilsa, but the figure was well-hidden and all he could see was shadow. He took out his weapons and moved forward very slowly.
“It’s me,” he heard Nilsa whisper. “Put your weapons away.”
Egil gave a snort of relief as he recognized her voice and relaxed. He went into the doorway with her and was enveloped by darkness.
“One of them has gone into that house,” she whispered. “The other three are keeping watch on the building, one on each side. It’s really strange …”
Egil scanned the street and saw one of the three men standing guard in front of a doorway. He craned his neck and saw a second man on one side of the building. He could not see the third man, but he guessed he must be on the hidden side.
“I see them …”
“D’you know what they’re up to? A meeting?” Nilsa asked hesitantly.
“I don’t think so.”
“Those three must be the older man’s bodyguards.”
“It looks like that.”
“So now what?”
“Now we wait.”
“What for?”
“To see whether our man comes out. And you didn’t lose them. Good work.”
“Thanks. How did you get rid of that thug?”
“With one of Viggo’s little tricks.”
“Viggo’s?”
“Yeah, he taught me several of his ‘tricks’ which have been very useful for me. The one I used today is one of his ‘masterstrokes’. He’s very fond of it.”
“Oh yeah … the kick in the …”
Egil grinned. “Yes, that’s the one.”
“According to him it’s infallible. He taught it to me too.”
“Well, today it saved me from a dangerous situation,” Egil said gratefully.
Nilsa smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
They waited for a long time, but there was no more movement. The night began to shade into the small hours of the morning. Nilsa yawned, bored with waiting.
“What are we waiting for?” she protested.
“For them to move.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then we’ll have what we’ve come in search of.”
“Really? I don’t know much about this spying business, but it’s pretty boring.”
“Well, sometimes it has its moments of excitement,” Egil said cheerfully. “Although it’s always best if it’s a quiet stake-out like this one.”
They waited till almost dawn. Nilsa, tired and bored, had sat down inside the doorway. Egil was still on his feet, alert. Finally, he spoke.
“Time to leave.”
“Really? You’ve got what you came for?”
“I’ve got it. Let’s go.”
They vanished down the street they had come up, then made their way north through the deserted streets of the city.
Chapter 23
It was morning by the time Nilsa and Egil came back to the meeting-point, after the night they had spent in the city carrying out the first part of the plan.
“I’m so glad to see you safe and sound!” Gerd said the moment he saw them arrive. He spread out his arms to welcome them.
Nilsa smiled. She looked tired. “I’m even gladder to see you!”
“We were beginning to worry,” Val said. “You were out all night.”
Egil smiled and gave her a nod. “We’re fine, don’t worry.”
“How did it go?” Gerd asked eagerly. “Did you get the information you were looking for?”
“It went very well, and yes, I got the information.”
“Wonderful!” Val cried.
Nilsa shrugged. “Well, he may have got the information he was after, but I’m not sure what we’ve done …”
“We’d better rest for a while,” Egil suggested. “Then we’ll get the second part of the plan ready.”
“Of course,” Gerd said, “you’ve been up all night. A nice nap’ll do you good.”
“Rest easy, we’ll keep watch,” Val said. She fetched her bow and her special Elemental Archer’s quiver.
Nilsa and Egil rested for a few hours, and when they woke up they had something to eat from their provisions so that they would be ready to face a night which prom
ised to be a long and dangerous one. Then they sat down in a circle, and Egil explained the plan. Nilsa, Val and Gerd listened attentively, since there were precise instructions for each of them.
“As with any plan,” he said, “there’s always the possibility that things could go wrong with neither warning nor immediate solution. We’ll have to be very much on the alert. We’re up against a guild of assassins whose members know how to kill, and they do that very well. In addition, they’re cold and calculating, so that they make very few mistakes, if any. So, we need to force them to do that by using our heads and our skills.”
Nilsa was already biting her nails in anticipation of what they were about to face.
“I’ll hide our horses in the forest,” Val offered.
“Leave them ready for a possible forced escape,” Egil said.
“I’ll leave them near the road, ready to leave straight away if we need to.”
“Let’s hope we don’t,” Gerd said uneasily.
Egil winked. “Better safe than sorry. Everything’ll be all right.”
“Of course it will!” Nilsa said enthusiastically.
“Right,” Egil said, looking up at the cloudy sky. “Let’s pack up camp, get ourselves ready and wait for nightfall.”
At midnight he gave the signal to begin. The four friends went into the city from the north, and as soon as they set foot on the empty streets they separated. As they had done the night before, Egil and Nilsa went south to the bad part of the city. Gerd went east, Val west. Without a word or a glance, they went their separate ways as though they had never seen one another in their lives.
At first the streets were lit by oil lamps and torches, so they were able to make their way on without difficulty. The streets were almost deserted, the only people about at that hour being those dedicated to professions of dubious respectability, or those seeking to enjoy themselves in taverns, inns or brothels. The four kept their heads down and walked as if they were in a hurry. Gerd was deeply bent over in an attempt to hide his size. Val had smeared her face and hair so that her obviously Norghanian features would not be so apparent. They had to avoid being stopped at all costs, because as they did not speak Zangrian they would be in deep trouble. The blonde specialist was carrying a large satchel on her back.