Cainen, meanwhile, was not faring well against the bright-faced bodyguard. Here and there Copperfox’s gleaming sword-point managed to pierce through Cainen’s defences, scoring small but not insignificant cuts just below his elbow and just above his knee. They were minor wounds, surely, but they could easily be the precursor to more grievous wounds to come. Cainen, it seemed, was not winning the duel – and Kozef too, as far as Cainen could tell, was also struggling against the dark bodyguard Blackasp, having received similar wounds.
And then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a small, gleaming metal object shot out and swung around Copperfox’s sword arm, snaring it and disrupting the bodyguard’s attack for half a moment. The grin on his face suddenly disappeared.
It was Leandra’s grappling-hook!
Cainen seized the moment and caught Copperfox’s shining blade with his axe head, blocking the strike before it could cause any grief. With a quick step in the short-statured Fennishman brought the butt of his axe-shaft crashing into the bodyguard’s face, breaking his nose and sending him stumbling backwards.
Copperfox quickly tried to regain his footing and set his blade before himself in order to guard against Cainen’s following strike, but with a brush of the hefty axe-bit the small man swept the weapon aside. Not wishing to squander the momentum in his weapon, he swiftly brought his axe wringing around and then straight down onto Copperfox’s collarbone, cleaving straight through into the bodyguard’s torso and knocking the blond-haired man down to the cobblestones. Cainen pulled his axe free with a twist of his wrists, and a torrent of blood spurted out of the wound, dying Copperfox’s fine white clothes dark crimson.
Lady Vole let out an ear-splitting shriek at the sight of her fallen bodyguard, made up of equal parts anguish and ire.
With Copperfox dying at his feet, Cainen looked to see Leandra aiding Kozef the same way she had just aided him – she cast her grappling hook low this time, aiming for Blackasp’s ankles.
One of the hooked prongs dug into the man’s heel and Leandra pulled the rope taught, causing Blackasp to lose his careful footing and stumble.
The burly Kaszian did not let the opening go to waste – he lashed out with his shield, bashing the bodyguard’s face and knocking him down to one knee. He followed this immediately with a savage hammer-blow, burying the steel spike of his weapon into the man’s brow and snuffing his life out.
Lady Vole let out another terrifying cry when she saw the hammer-spike make its landing. If all the people of the city had not been woken by the first cry, then they had definitely been woken by the second.
Kozef and Cainen – with the aid of the mysterious thief woman, of course – had triumphed in the fierce duel against Lady Vole’s bodyguards.
But they were still surrounded, and there were six Polecats still remaining.
No, not six Polecats – the beleaguered mercenaries watched in grim, wordless anticipation as two more Polecat bands marched towards them – one group coming from the north end the bridge and the other from the south end.
Twelve, eighteen, twenty four – before they knew it, Leandra and the mercenaries were surrounded by dozens of armed Polecats.
Kozef would not have been surprised one jot to learn that it was in fact all of the Polecats bearing down on them at that moment. The she-thief’s tricks obviously had not kept them locked down in their underworld lair for as long as she had anticipated.
Lady Vole let out a maniacal cackle as the army of Polecats closed in around them. She stepped forward.
“I’ve heard rumours of you, you know,” Lady Vole said. Her cruel little eyes were fixed on the she-thief. “My listeners hear much, and tell me much. They’ve told tall tales of a Olitanian woman, a cunning burglar who steals not for the prize itself, but for the thrill of it. A woman who would gladly steal a clump of dirt if it was hidden in a steel strong-box and guarded by armsmen at all hours.”
“She sounds like an incredible woman, by all accounts,” Leandra laughed. “Beautiful too, surely!”
“Some call her the Princess of Thieves,” Lady Vole spat. “But if you are the Princess of Thieves, then that must make me the Queen of Thieves, would it not?”
“Are you my mother, then?” Leandra asked, tilting her head to one side.
“If you were one of mine, my love, I would have drowned you the moment after bringing you into the world,” Lady Vole snarled.
“That, Lady Vole, is surely no way to speak to the Princess of Thieves!” Leandra retorted.
Leandra turned about quickly, glaring sharply into Kozef and Cainen’s eyes.
“The barge,” she whispered.
Kozef peered to one side and sure enough, he saw an early morning barge laden with stacked barrels and sacks of grain gliding down the Saubelle. It would pass under the Dyer’s Bridge in a matter of moments.
“They say that the Duke of Lauvay has enough riches to buy the world,” Lady Vole sneered. “I don’t know how true that is, but he certainly has enough riches to buy me and my Polecats. In exchange for the star, he promised us more wealth than we would know what to do with. For me specifically, he promised a title of nobility and lands to go with it. And a castle.”
“A bloody castle!” the matriarch reiterated, screeching. “But now that I’ve held the star in my hands, well! The Duke can blow that castle out of his arse. The star will be mine and mine only.”
“That is quite funny,” Leandra said. “Because earlier this evening, my gentlemen friends here were just telling me of their wish to buy castles.”
“I’d like to see you lot fight your way out of this,” the grey-haired matriarch snarled, ignoring the quip and indicating the army of Polecats standing all about her.
It was just then, however, that the assembled thieves began to jostle and chatter nervously amongst themselves, causing Kozef, Cainen, Leandra and even Lady Vole to wonder what was occurring. Within only a few moments, the chatter had become panicked shouting, and some among them were beginning to flee.
“What?!” Lady Vole shrieked. “What’s got you lot pissing in your breeches? Tell me at once! What is happening?!”
Kozef managed to peer through the jostling and churning crowd of thieves, and was able to make out a contingent of armed and armoured men marching down the bridge – the guardsmen of the Auvand city watch, according to the cries and frightened mutterings of the Polecats. He turned about, and saw a similar contingent of men marching up the bridge – they were fighting men in the service of the Primate of Auvand, from what the Kaszian could discern.
Two strong forces of guardsmen, hemming the Polecats in and cutting off any escape.
“Stop, in the name of the City of Auvand!” came commanding shouts from the guardsmen. “Stop, in the name of the Primate!”
“No!” Lady Vole wailed, when she realised what was befalling them. “Noo!”
Leandra took that as her opportunity to move.
She glanced over her shoulder at the two mercenaries and then dashed. Two swift strides and a leap brought her up onto the nearest section of balustrade. Another leap sent her flying from the Dyer’s Bridge and down towards the water – but instead of splashing down into the muck of the Saubelle she alighted on the passing river-barge, landing soundly on top of a stack of barrels.
Kozef and Cainen, closely following her lead, were already leaping from the balustrades when she made her landing, and the vagabond mercenaries made their own landing – somewhat unsteadily – on the barge only half a moment after her own.
Back on the bridge, they heard Lady Vole’s furious shriek and turned to see something quite unexpected – Lady Vole herself was following them. In dogged pursuit of the star, she too made her great leap from the balustrade, and landed on the edge of the barge with a sword in hand.
“I will not let you get away from me,” came her shrill, terrible cry. “Give me the star!”
A squad of five Polecats had leapt from the bridge after her – whether to aid her in her last-ditch effort to seize
the star, protect her from her own recklessness or escape apprehension by the city watchmen and the primate’s men, Kozef could not be certain. The river barge had slipped too far along from the Dyer’s Bridge by that point, however, and each of the men missed their marks and crashed into the brown water of the Saubelle.
Lady Vole’s teeth were bared, and she seemed to not even notice her men leaping into the water after her.
She rushed upon Leandra, Kozef and Cainen like a wild beast, stumbling over the barrels yet still swinging her sword at them with all the savagery she could muster, screaming and snarling.
“Give it to me!” she shrieked.
Lady Vole had little skill with a sword. Kozef and Cainen dodged, parried and guarded against the matriarch’s sword-strikes, but for the most part simply backed away from the energetic assault.
Leandra, however, with her dagger clasped tightly in her right hand, strode forward boldly.
With long, sure strides she passed between Kozef and Cainen. Much to the amazement of both the mercenaries and the Polecat matriarch, the she-thief’s leather-clad hand shot out and caught hold of Lady Vole’s hand in the middle of a sword-stroke. A flash of her own blade then sheared clean through Lady Vole’s wrist, separating her ringed right hand from the rest of her arm.
The short sword, still clutched tightly by her severed hand, fell down amongst the barrels with a thump and a clatter.
Lady Vole’s mouth hung agape in perverse silence, and her little black eyes were open wide, brimming with shock. They were transfixed on her stump, currently gushing out blood in great spurts.
“My… my…” she murmured. But she was suddenly unable to find the words to make a coherent sentence.
Leandra then stepped forward and, placing her hands over Lady Vole’s chest, put all her strength into a great push, forcing the Polecat leader to stumble back half a dozen paces. She tumbled backwards off the stack of barrels and fell with a great splash into the filthy water of the Saubelle, slamming her face into the back edge of the barge as she went.
The Polecats in the river rushed over to aid their matriarch – but none of them were strong enough swimmers to catch up to the barge, and Kozef, Cainen and Leandra floated away free, down towards the place where the Saubelle joined the Orsonne.
7 – The Princess of Thieves
The eastern sky was ablaze with the light of the rising sun and the dawn was brightening all about them. A small number of Auvand’s early risers were up and going about their morning business by then – porters, domestic servants, shopkeepers, beggars – all of whom took little notice of the two vagabond mercenaries and the mysterious woman dressed in men’s clothes, who not long before had leapt from a cruising river-barge onto a jetty.
Had those people opted to give them more than just a cursory glance, they would have seen the jewel that had brought about the downfall of the Imperator Caelummar. The she-thief held the star in her hands at that moment, examining it closely.
“This is the first time I’ve actually taken the time to simply marvel at it, up close,” she murmured, running the tips of her fingers around the setting. “It truly is a captivating treasure. It’s no wonder Lady Vole desired to keep it for herself.”
“Take it, take it!” Cainen exclaimed with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want to see the bloody thing again. They say it’s worth a whole kingdom... But what I think they mean to say is that it’s actually worth a kingdom’s worth of trouble. And I don’t want to be anywhere nearby when the rest of the trouble gets here, I’ve had more than my fair share.”
“You boys need not worry about it any more,” she said, wrapping it up tightly and slotting it away into one of her purses. “My employers will be more than pleased to take it off your hands.”
“By the way, madam,” Kozef said. “About that little silver brooch of ours...” He put out his hand and raised an eyebrow at her expectantly.
“Oh!” she gasped. “With all the mayhem, I had completely forgotten about that.”
She dug into one of her purses, pulling the trinket out of a little leather pocket. With a lazy cast of her hand she threw it towards them, and Cainen had to scramble forward to snatch it before it struck the ground.
“I just enjoy taking things that aren’t mine, you see,” she said, grinning that mischievous grin of hers – the one that drove Cainen to madness. “It’s something of a compulsion.”
“Sure, and one other thing, if I may,” Cainen asked.
“Yes, Cainen?”
“Might I finally know your name?” he asked. “Your real name?”
At that, she tilted her head to one side and put a finger to her chin, pretending as if to give the request deep consideration.
“I shouldn’t...” she sighed. “I’m the Princess of Thieves, after all! It simply wouldn’t do if every man and his horse were to know my name, my real name...”
“But exceptions can be made, I suppose,” she giggled. “But only for you, Cainen; my brave, strong wolf-slayer – or should I say ‘polecat-slayer’?”
“Sorry, Kozef,” she added, peering over Cainen’s shoulder and winking at the burly Kaszian. She stepped away a number of paces, beckoning the Fennishman forward as she went.
“Can you keep a secret, Cainen?” her voice was suddenly low.
“I definitely can, sure!” he exclaimed.
She stepped up to him very closely, and put her lips right up to his ear.
“It’s Vivanna,” she whispered.
Vivanna. Her name was Vivanna! Cainen felt as if he was privy to some sublime secret.
“An enchanting name for an enchanting lady,” Cainen said, melodramatic. “I will keep it close to my heart, never to tell any other!”
“Wonderful,” Vivanna laughed. “But I really should be on my way now, Cainen.”
She called Kozef over in order to pay her farewells.
“I have a feeling in my bones that our paths will converge again, one day in the future,” she said.
“If they do, hopefully it will be under more fortunate circumstances than tonight,” Kozef said. “Best of luck in your exploits, maidamme. Farewell! And thank you for your aid against the Polecats.”
“Goodbye, pulse of my heart!” Cainen exclaimed.
“Farewell, boys!” she called, giving a wave as she went on her way.
They stood and watched as she departed, but before the mercenaries had realised it, she had completely vanished – seemingly into the fabric of the city itself.
“Well then,” Kozef sighed, turning to his comrade. “We have had this night-long ordeal, but yet it would seem we have nothing to show for it. Even a decent sleep has been denied us.”
“I’ve got her name, at least,” Cainen laughed.
“I am glad that you have her name now, small man,” Kozef grumbled, his voice was tinged with more than a hint of derision. “But we cannot eat her name, nor drink it. And we certainly cannot use it to pay for lodgings!”
“Ah!” Cainen said, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into the beginnings of a devilish grin. “But we do have this, big fellow. Take a look, if you will!”
From his satchel the short-statured Fennishman pulled an object wrapped in a piece of white linen, similar to that which had swaddled the Star of Caelummar.
What on earth could it be?
Cainen tore the linen away with a theatrical flourish, revealing a gruesome token that caused the breath to catch in Kozef’s throat.
Lady Vole’s severed hand!
“Cainen!” Kozef grumbled in shock. “You bold-faced fiend, you took her hand. May the God of Woe eat your heart!”
The Fennishman gave a laugh of boyish glee and waved the hand about as if he were a child playing with a particularly enjoyable toy.
“Get rid of that horrible thing this instant,” Kozef insisted. “How would you feel if Lady Vole were to use your hand for such silliness?”
“I’m only having a jape, big fellow,” Cainen remarked, grinning broadly and pl
aying with the fingers, bending them one by one. “What’s more, you ought to quit being such a grouching curmudgeon and take a closer look here.”
Kozef looked where the Fennishman was pointing, and saw the exquisite golden ring on the hand’s middle finger. The stone set into it was gleaming yet black as pitch, and it glared right at them just as one of Lady Vole’s fierce little eyes would have done.
It didn’t catch the early morning sunlight as stunningly as the Star of Caelummar did, of course, but it was arresting enough in its own right, and neither was it as gaudy or as outmoded as the old silver Vaudain brooch. No pawnbroker, Kozef figured, would be able to resist it.
Cainen slipped it off the finger with ease and cast the hand away, letting it fall into the Saubelle with a loud splash. He threw the ring straight up into the air above his head, meaning to catch it as it fell.
But Kozef quickly shot out his hand and caught it himself, gripping it tightly in his fist.
“I think it would be best, small man, if I were to hold onto this for us,” the Kaszian said. “Or do I need to remind you how we got involved in this whole frightful business in the first place?”
Cainen’s smile suddenly faded.
“And, what’s more, I should be the one who holds that silver brooch of ours, too,” Kozef said. “Hand it over, now.”
“Sure, big fellow, sure,” Cainen sighed. He unfastened his satchel and began to rummage through the contents. “Where did I put it just now?”
He dug through his bag for what seemed like an age, but the silver Vaudain brooch would simply not present itself.
“The bloody thing isn’t in here, Kozef,” Cainen stammered. His eyes were wide with worry. “Where’s it gone?”
Crooked Streets Page 18
