by J. P. Ashman
***
The inn was deserted. The bodies out front had been lifted up and hung on the gibbet tree by Legg. It had been hard work, but Dignaaln had asked nicely, so how could he have refused? Inside, the two men sat, ate and drank. Dignaaln had insisted his friend washed in the horse trough outside, and had found clothes for him. The eldest son of the inn keeper hung naked on the tree out front, along with the rest of his family. The young fisherman had been the easiest for Legg to raise, so he’d hung the boy the highest, much to the delight of buzzards and crows.
Smoke filled the inn, the hole in the thatched roof of little use as the central fire pit blazed. A spit reached over it, chunks of horse meat skewered along its length. Legg could hardly remember the last time he’d eaten so well.
He stopped chewing. Grounding… Licking his lips, Legg looked about the dark room, confusion settling in. When his eyes settled on the emissary besides him, he drew in a quick breath, stood, backed away.
‘Legg, my friend,’ Dignaaln said, arms wide, dark eyes sinking away to nothing. ‘What startles you so?’
Legg tried to blink the smoke from his eyes. Head swimming, he took a deep breath and held his hands out low, palms down. ‘I stood too fast, methinks.’
Dignaaln smiled. ‘Yes, yes I think you did. Take a seat, have some more wine. It is not grand, but it will do us, for now.’
Nodding, Legg sat back down and took the clay pot offered to him.
‘Such crude containers,’ Dignaaln mused aloud, studying the pottery in his own hand. ‘I miss glass.’ His eyes turned to Legg. ‘Have you drunk from glass, my friend?’
Legg shook his head before drinking the wine.
‘No, I did not think so.’ Dignaaln sighed and slumped lower in the chair. ‘You have missed out there, Legg. It makes such a…’
Wheels clattered outside.
Dignaaln frowned. ‘Now who would be travelling at night?’
Legg shrugged, before leaning forward to cut more meat from the spit.
Dignaaln straightened in his chair and pulled on Legg’s arm. ‘Go and see, will you?’
Legg turned on Dignaaln and nodded eagerly, before tossing fat onto the fire to spit and sizzle. Rising, he crossed to the door, smoothing down his gifted, red woollen tunic and adjusting his matching cap as he went. How fine I look, he thought, smile broad. Before he reached it, the door opened onto a scene not much darker than the one behind him.
‘Aunt Collett!’ Legg shouted. His face was a picture of surprise and delight. ‘You made it!’
The woman rocked back on her heels, unsure how to take the enthusiastic greeting.
‘Where’s Uncle Couig? Where’s the caravan?’ he said, face dropping as he looked past her angry visage.
‘Shit,’ Dignaaln said from behind.
Legg staggered from the slap he took.
‘Ye’re drunk, ye shit. We’re fightin’ for Jevratt’s life and yer here, drunk.’ She shoved her nephew into the inn, following him to shove some more. ‘And dressed like a prise cock, to boot.’
‘Woah, Collett, stop that.’ Legg backed off, pointing to Dignaaln, who stood. Legg missed the cuts, bruises and torn clothes the emissary now sported.
‘Mistress Collett,’ Dignaaln said, bowing low. He winced as he did so.
Fists balled as the woman surged across the room, shouting all the way. ‘Where’s the bastard priest, eh? Where’s the traitor?’
Legg interposed, forcing himself between the two. ‘Priest forced Dignaaln away, Collett. He forced him to carry him from Stonebridge, to flee. He beat him and left him on the road. Left him for dead and stole his beautiful horse.’
Collett’s eyes never left Dignaaln’s as her breaths came ragged and hard. She coughed and reached for her pipe.
‘Come,’ Legg said, dragging her back to the door. ‘Did ye see? Did ye see the men, women and boy Priest strung up in the tree? Did ye see those he slaughtered?’
Suspicious eyes left a nodding Dignaaln, before looking out towards a pointed-out tree she couldn’t possibly see in the dark. ‘Enough,’ she said, as Legg went on. ‘Enough I say!’
‘He helped me, your nephew,’ Dignaaln said smoothly, coming forward.
Collett rounded on the man. ‘I’m not sure what he’s done, that boy.’ She pointed, yellowed finger inches from Legg’s face. ‘But I know what he’s to do now.’
‘Anything,’ Legg said, moving between Collett and Dignaaln again.
‘Ye’re to help carry yer cousin in here, and fast. He’s on the mend through skill, and luck in abundance, but he needs more than I can do for him on the road if he’s to continue mending and not die… like everyone else.’ The words visibly pained Collett. ‘Now get him in, Legg, and maybe I’ll forgive ye for running from us.’
Nodding eagerly, Legg rushed out of the inn. Collett watched him go, packing her pipe as she did so. She never saw Dignaaln’s dark eyes smile, whilst he popped a piece of horse flesh into his mouth. And somehow Legg felt that smile, despite being out of sight. He felt it and matched it with one of his own.
***
An iron-shod hoof pressed on Cheung’s cheek. The cold touch opened eyes that followed a golden leg up to a broad-chested beast. Eyes met and horse and human huffed. Removing the foot, the palomino nodded its head. Cheung closed his eyes and groaned.
Those eyes opened wide and quick as a weighty thud preceded several more. The impacts of hoof on ground were followed by a gush of warm liquid. Cheung rolled away fast, climbing to his feet whilst pulling his wet and steaming robes from his body; the horse had been faster.
‘Of all the places,’ Cheung said, throwing his soiled robes to the floor and glaring at the offending animal, the smell of the horse piss overwhelming.
The horse whinnied.
‘I was waking, in my own time.’
The horse moved away.
‘You are insufferable.’ Turning away from the animal, Cheung relieved himself then followed, robes retrieved, shook off and thrown over the golden rump of the palomino. A grunt of complaint was all he received as he climbed into the saddle.
‘I’m not myself, horse,’ he said, which is clear by my talking to you.
The palomino pushed on, without a sound.
‘I war within. The old me fights the new, and the new struggles to care.’ No reply from the animal pushing its way through the undergrowth. ‘I feel a strong sense of duty. I must seek my mark and end him, like all those that came before him, but…’
Cheung lay flat against the horse’s white mane, allowing a branch to pass over him.
‘But I also want to go back; back to see how the Caravaneers fare.’
Cheung rubbed the fresh scar on the back of his neck and ran a finger down the poorly healing line beneath his eye.
‘How many more will fall to my blades before I reach the man they are intended for? Answer me that, horse.’ Cheung grunted a laugh to himself. The horse grunted back.
Dark green faded to lighter shades; paler and paler until warm sunlight touched skin and hide. Cheung laughed aloud when he saw the road stretching into the distance, Chapparro Minor rising up to the right of the road, to the north.
‘You’re saner than I am right now, and smarter it would seem.’ Nudging the animal with his knees, Cheung took the reins and urged his mount on.
‘Take me to Rowberry. Take me there and beyond, to Wesson. I’m sure you’ll see me right along the way, and who knows? Perhaps I shall be who I need to be by the time we get there.’
The palomino and its rider hit the long road to Rowberry at a steady canter, whilst Cheung repeated the mantra he’d attempted the night before. This time, the words were less forced. This time, he almost believed in the unknown, as he once had.
Chapter 18 – Look out below
The night, once again, was made longer by the sullen atmosphere the two men endured throughout their three days in Dockside. Severun took a dramatically deep breath and strode from the lay house and out onto the muddy cobbled
street beyond, which stunk only a little worse than their night’s accommodation. Egan Dundaven rolled his eyes and reluctantly followed.
‘Where now?’ Severun asked, without turning.
Egan shrugged. Severun turned, eyebrows high. Egan shrugged again and Severun sighed.
‘Is this not your area of expertise, witchunter?’
‘I’ve exhausted my expertise since we entered this Samorl forsaken district,’ Egan said, whilst placing his hat firmly on his head. ‘I have no leads. You’ve done little as of yet, wizard.’ Very little, in fact.
‘If I were able to summon the Black Guild like a sorcerer summons a… spirit or some such, I’d have no use for you. And trust me, I wish that were so.’
Egan grunted. ‘Trust you?’ He set off down the hill, a single glance behind after a couple of gull-call accompanied steps. Severun followed, white staff in hand, robes flowing ridiculously.
‘Yes, for this task you must trust me, Egan, as I do you.’
Egan stopped. He turned to face Severun, who looked down on him.
‘You trust me? We barely know one another, and we’re an unlikely paring, especially with our particular histories.’
Severun was nodding before Egan finished. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we are, but I’ve heard what you did below the city, whilst fleeing Tyndurris. I know you saved my friend’s life: Master Orix.’
Egan’s stomach lurched and a shiver ran through him, despite the sun. ‘The gnome,’ he said, his words barely more than a whisper. His eyes focused past Severun, to the memory of killing his superior to save that gnome. It remained as vivid as when it happened and he feared it always would.
‘You made a great sacrifice to save him,’ Severun said, his tone softening for the first time since they’d been forced together by Will Morton.
Egan swallowed hard. ‘I couldn’t see him murdered before me. It wasn’t what I joined the order for.’ Egan focused back on Severun before continuing down the road. ‘Past is past,’ he said, as Severun came alongside, easily matching the smaller man’s pace. ‘We have a job to do now. A job I relish much more than the one I was tasked with upon my arrival to Wesson.’
‘Yes, we have,’ Severun agreed, looking about the shabby buildings surrounding them. He stopped suddenly.
‘Severun?’ Egan said over his shoulder, stopping a couple of paces further on and watching the wizard with narrowed eyes. What’s he about?
Shaking the ‘whatever it was’ away, blank expression losing out to alertness, Severun offered a weak smile and continued on down the hill, Egan now following him.
‘Come on,’ Severun said, stride long, ‘we’ve work to do. The Black Guild won’t make themselves known to us.’
Egan nodded as he followed. ‘Not if we’re blessed,’ he said, catching Severun up. ‘For if they do, it’ll be on their terms, and I don’t like the thought of an impromptu meeting with assassins on their terms.’
‘We agree on something else,’ Severun said, eyes back to scanning the crooked buildings either side.
‘Fellas!’ a heavily tattooed gnome – of all things – shouted, from a slither of a dark alleyway – despite the sunny morning. The two men stopped, looked to the outlandish gnome, then to one another.
‘Yes?’ Egan said, hand finding the hilt of his cloak-covered rapier. The familiar feel of the weapon calmed him, but a little.
‘I might be havin’ some information for ye both,’ the gnome said, a cocky grin lifting one cheek high.
‘Might you?’ Egan looked to Severun, who shrugged, then back to the offeror of information, who grinned all the more and nodded. Egan tipped the brim of his hat to the gnome. ‘And what might that be?’
‘You two be lookin’ for the Black Guild, ain’t ye?’
Severun said yes as Egan said no. Both closed their eyes and sighed as the gnome laughed.
‘Sure enough ye are. Now follow me down here, and I’ll tell ye what ye need to know.’ Severun made to speak, but the gnome cut him off. ‘Should ye offer the right price that is.’ He winked with a twist of the head at the two men, before disappearing back down the alley.
‘Isn’t this what we wanted?’ Severun asked, eyes on the gap between hovels.
‘Like I said before,’ Egan said, hand wringing the hilt of his rapier, ‘not on their terms.’
Severun pursed his lips and nodded.
‘Off you pop, wizard.’ Egan held his free hand out for Severun to lead.
‘What? Oh. Yes, well, let’s get on with it, eh?’ Severun strode into the alley with a level of confidence that niggled at Egan’s pride; he followed with a lungful of air; chest broad.
‘As long as his confidence is more genuine than mine,’ Egan whispered to himself, eyes attempting to adjust to the shadows enveloping the duo.
Half the morning later and Severun and Egan were continuing on their way through the shit-filled streets of Dockside. Following the gnome led to nought but an informal chat with a human lad. Whereas the lad’s information seemed invaluable, Egan decided it would be prudent to take it all with a pinch of salt, despite their lighter purses.
They continued to discuss the boy as they walked down the narrow, sloping road, mud sucking at their boots. Reaching a junction of sorts, where two alleys lead off, either side of the road, Egan pulled Severun to one side, half under an overhanging first floor, perched precariously atop a ramshackle house.
‘Listen, Severun—’
‘Lord Severun.’
‘Severun. You’re not a lord any longer, Lord Yewdale said as much.’
Severun frowned.
‘What you need to understand, about that boy and the gnome before him, about this place – Dockside – is that we stand out like an inept carpenter’s thumb. They knew what we were. Samorl, Severun, he knew who you were!’ Severun made to say something, but Egan held up his hand and the publicly executed and officially deceased wizard held his tongue. ‘My bet is that he was set to watch us—’
‘And slipped up when we spotted him, thankfully for us,’ Severun said, but Egan was shaking his head.
‘No,’ Egan said flatly. ‘I think you remember that event differently. He knew what we were about and his asking if the Black Guild was what we were looking for was meant to gauge us, don’t you see? We’re being watched, followed, measured up, as either potential enemies or… clients.’ He said the latter slowly, emphasising the word.
‘But by whom?’
‘I thought mages were intelligent? The Black Guild themselves!’ Egan added, before Severun could fire off a retort.
Severun scoffed. ‘That’s ridiculous. The very guild we seek, out of all those working throughout this city, just happen to be watching us? Whilst we try to watch them?’
‘Exactly! Although they’re doing a better job at it than we are, aren’t they?’
‘Well, I’m not so sure, since I’m not sure I believe you. That lad wanted coins across his palm and he got it, for good, usable information.’
‘Listen, Severun, everything that’s happened since we entered Dockside, everything that’s going to happen, within reason, is by design. By their design, believe you me. They don’t have a big wooden door in a fancy old building in Guild District with a brass knocker on and a sign saying “to book assassinations, knock here” do they? So how do you think clients find them?’
‘They ask.’
Egan lifted his hat to scratch at his scalp in frustration. ‘Where?’
‘Taverns, inns and brothels. You know, seedy places.’
Egan sighed with frustration at what was, to him at least, obvious. Samorl give me strength.
‘No, Severun, all that will do is get you laughed at or killed, or both.’
‘Go on,’ Severun said, clearly playing along, but unconvinced, ‘what do you do to get in touch with the Black Guild?’
‘You do what we’re doing. Why do you think I’ve had us traipsing around Dockside for three days? Certainly not for the fresh air and scenery. We’ve made subtle en
quiries. We’ve let people know we have money and will pay for information, but we’re not to be pushed around, enough so the Thieves Guild won’t have anyone touch us. We’ve not had an attempted mugging for over a day, have we? Despite your jewel-eyed bloody staff.’
Severun thought about that for a moment, bringing his staff in close. ‘Which means?’ he said, eventually.
‘We’ve been passed up the food chain,’ Egan said, raising his hand level with his wide brimmed hat. ‘I have no doubt that the gnome and boy were watchers for the Black Guild, although I don’t believe any of the information the lad gave us.’
‘Why would they have him talk to us?’ Severun rubbed at his face with his free hand, then looked up and down the road, shifting from foot to foot through impatience. ‘I’ve enacted simpler spells,’ he said through his fingers, which continued to rub his face some more.
‘Because they want to see what we do with that information. We follow it to the letter and they’re scared off, they don’t want to work for anyone so obvious. They need us to have a certain level of tact and stealth about us. Should they take our contract on, they want to know we won’t go blabbing about it to anyone and everyone.’
‘If what you’re saying is true, what next?’ Severun asked, hands and staff out to the sides.
‘That, we need to think on, but hurtling off to act on the information the boy gave us is certainly not what we should do. I think other signs will present themselves as time goes on, and we’ll use them to move forward from here on in.’
A creak from the wooden shutters above their heads caused both men to look up. Egan’s hand moved to his rapier’s hilt. It was too little too late, not that it would have saved either of them.
The old woman screeched an apology and slammed the shutters with a loud clatter as the contents of her chamber pot splashed across the two men in the street below, both of which cried out in a mix of surprise and disgust as they began heaving and retching against the wall beside them. They were now safely, if a little too late, hidden under the overhang of the building’s upper floor.
