Though Skeg couldn’t be sure, he thought it was Zuly who answered him in an almost inaudible whisper, “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 5
It took some time before Salt settled into a rhythm of sorts. He dragged his constantly bruised and aching body out of bed every day, ate the best food he’d ever seen in his life, then endured whatever torture Krigare and Gurt had devised for the day before crawling back to his room sometime after nightfall when the rest of the Night Guard set out, presumably to find more psychotic bitches to burn. Salt had thought a life at sea was hard. That he could handle anything life threw at him, that it had made him tough. But he was so exhausted after his months of training that it was all he could do to keep his eyes open through the evening meal.
Many of the Night Guardsmen were not physically imposing. But Salt had sparred with enough of them to know their thin frames were one and all hiding surprising strength and almost endless endurance. They all trained endlessly with a variety of weapons. Krigare was clearly unequaled by anyone in the Night Guard, and he worked tirelessly to improve the skills of all the others. Many of those Salt had gotten to know had also had their own brush with the kind of dark hungry forces that the Guard was meant to stand against. Seely was the lone survivor after some strange creature destroyed her village. Altog’s wife and son had been killed by an insane mage.
The one time Salt had hinted to Gurt about wanting to leave the Night Guard, Gurt had just looked at him sadly and asked if he would be happy to scream for help the next time a crazy something had him tied down to a bed, or if he’d be able to sleep thinking of others in that position instead of him.
Salt had drifted away, his thoughts swirling around and confused. With everything that had changed in his life he had nearly blocked out the experience that had led him here. But after hearing Gurt’s words, he remembered the horrible feeling of helplessness. The certainty of his own death at the hands of a smiling maniac.
Salt got up early the next day. Barely an hour past midday, he dressed in the still-dark room and slipped out so as not to wake any of the others. He collected a weighted practice sword from the storeroom and walked out to the training yard. Gurt and a few others were already working up a sweat. Salt owed a lot to Gurt and the others. They had saved his life, his sanity, even his soul. And had taken him in and given him a place where he could make more of himself than he had ever dreamed before. Bailing on them without giving it his all seemed like a piss-poor way to repay them. Now that he thought about it, that was probably why the Guard recruited a lot of their number from victims or their families. Nothing like a messed-up mix of guilt, desire for vengeance, and gratitude to keep soldiers committed to the cause. Though the food and living conditions don’t hurt either.
Gurt caught Salt’s eye and smiled before shifting his attention back to the two Guardsmen who were sparring in front of him. Salt was surprised when he recognized Wheeze, the medic, and Lera, the mage who had helped save him from the bug priestess. He hadn’t seen either of them since the night he joined. It was a shock to see them training with sword and shield. Unusual for a medic, and downright strange for a mage of any real ability. In Salt’s admittedly limited experience, mages were usually all caught up in looking scary and mysterious. How can you tell a person is a mage if they don’t dress the part? It looked like both of them really knew what they were doing, too. They were both certainly better with a sword than Salt, though Wheeze sounded like he was going to fall over the entire time. It was a bit of an eye-opener.
Salt decided to warm up with a run, doing laps around the yard. He did drills with sword and shield, then just with a sword, and even worked for a while with a pair of maces that Krigare had started him with the day before. Salt was surprised how natural it was all starting to feel after such a short time. More Guardsmen trickled out and joined them as they got up. Lera and Wheeze had left by the time regular training started at three hours past noon.
The sun was shining down through the dust the Guardsmen were kicking up in the yard. Salt looked at them all and realized that even though he barely had time to talk to any of the Night Guardsmen beyond receiving pointers and exchanging jokes during practice, he already felt a kinship to these crazy bastards who hunted monsters every night. I guess this place really is home now.
“So, lad, you think you’re ready to go out on patrol?” Gurt asked Salt as they finished their daily training. “I don’t usually take new recruits out quite this early, but you seem to be getting the hang of things pretty fast. Besides, Altog and Min got pretty messed up last night, so we’re short on numbers.”
“What got them? Another shape-shifter?”
“Nothing so scary, lad. Smugglers. Trading in some nasty stuff. There were eight of them, and a couple of them really knew what they were doing. Altog took a sword in the neck, Min a crossbow bolt in the leg. She was lucky; the fool had kept the crossbow strung for too long so it didn’t split her open too bad. Should be back on her feet in a couple days.”
“What about Altog?”
Gurt laughed. “He’s got a devil’s own luck. Somehow every time he gets stuck, his armor’s more messed up than he is. Wheeze’s keeping him out of action for a couple days just to make sure, but it looks like he’ll be fine. Best part is he can’t talk right now,” Gurt added with a grin. He clapped Salt on the shoulder. “So? You up for a romp through the Muds?”
“I’ll do my best,” Salt answered.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, lad. Make sure you get washed up and fed double time. We’re heading out a little early tonight. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
That night Salt was so nervous he could barely swallow his food. Roast lamb, steamed greens, fresh brown bread, and cold dark ale. None of his old shipmates would believe he’d hesitate to eat food like this. But all he managed to do was push the food around and drain his single cup of ale far too quickly. His normal mealtime drowsiness was gone.
Gurt came over and sat opposite him. He settled onto the bench and started to heap food onto his plate. “You should try to eat more than that, lad. It’s going to be a long night.”
Salt made a noncommittal noise and went back to pushing his food around.
“So how do we do this?” he asked. “Do we just wander around the shittier parts of the city looking for trouble?”
“Gods, lad, what do you think this is? The city watch? You’re in the Night Guard. We answer only to the king himself. The city watch live in their own homes and eat what they can with the coppers they get paid.” He looked down meaningfully at the food on the table. “There are never more than two hundred Night Guardsmen. And in case you didn’t notice, we’ve got mages on our team. Four of them rarely leave the palace. Lera comes out with us now and again though and even conscripts a handful of helpers from the Arcanum if we need them. The ladies do our legwork for us. And, yes, all five of them are women. They do whatever it is they do with their magic and give us a list of places we should look into. I add in a handful of our regular informants or anything else I hear about and split up the list between the squads going out.”
“Two hundred? But I’ve never seen more than a few dozen.”
“Bialta’s a big place, lad. We send out a few on long patrols or station them in some of the bigger cities.”
Salt nodded his understanding. “And we’re busy every night?”
“Pretty much.”
“How many crazy fuckers can one city hold?”
“You’d be surprised, lad. Big cities are lodestones to trouble. Crowds are the best way for those crazies to get lost. They promise anonymity. Most of the cultists, insane mages, demons, and whatnot find out pretty fast they can’t hide in a little town for long. They all prey on other people in one way or another. They get noticed eventually out there unless they keep on the move and that’s just as much of a hassle for them as it would be for you or me. On top of that, ports are usually worse with the number of people coming in and out all year, and the Arcanum seems t
o attract a fair few as well, not that they’d thank you for sharing that fact—that’s why almost half the Night Guard are usually stationed in or around the capital.”
“But I’ve never even heard of the Night Guard. And all I’ve ever heard of these other things are rumors.”
“Aye, lad, they are. Because we usually don’t spread the stories around too much. That and we do our best to clean up after a job. We make it so people can live without always looking over their shoulders.”
Salt ate a few bites of food, a pensive look on his face. He’d been through a lot in his life, but stepping out to walk the streets at night hunting magical threats was a big leap, and he couldn’t help but feel nervous. “So where are we going tonight?”
“Most of our work is in the slums or the dock district. Not that we don’t have to raid the odd mansion or merchant’s house mind you. Tonight is a typical night. We have two stops in the slums, one an herbalist who sometimes hears things; the other, a crazy bastard who dabbles in magic and sells arcane supplies. Then we’re going to check out a warehouse near the docks—Lera says there are some pretty heavy wards on the building. Might just be expensive cargo, but you never know what you might find. If we see something we don’t like, we call in help.”
“So what do we do if we find a crazy-ass mage and Lera’s not with us?”
“We take care of them any way we have to. Even an archmage will die if you stick your sword through them. I dole out a few enchanted trinkets when a situation calls for them, but it’s best to learn to make do without. Even for us, there’s never enough to go around. I’ve rejigged the squads, by the way. Krigare will be leading his own squad now. So that leaves us with Seely, Greal, Skye, Wheeze, and Brolt, and Min and Altog once they’re back on their feet. Now go get your stuff. We’re heading out in ten minutes.”
Salt put on his leather armor and picked up a longsword in a back harness, a mace, and a couple of daggers from the armory. Then he went out into the yard to meet the others. Seely was dressed in plain leather armor like him, an expensive-looking rapier and parrying dagger tucked into her belt. As always she looked nervous and didn’t look anyone in the eye. Skye stood next to her. With dark skin and confident bearing, she provided an almost perfect contrast to Seely. Skye wore a long cloak over her armor, which almost hid the small crossbow that she had strapped to her back. While she waited she took practice swings and stabs with her broad-bladed spear. Greal was even more easily recognizable. The dark leather mask he always wore made his deep-blue eyes stand out strangely. His thick, curly black hair and beard stuck out around it, strands of silver breaking up the blackness. Unlike the others, he wore a heavy suit of blackened steel chain and plate. The huge tulwar he favored was on his back, and a brace of daggers crossed his chest. Brolt disdained armor entirely. He always insisted in training that it slowed him down, but Salt was surprised to see him actually go out on patrol dressed only in nondescript dark clothes. The two thin-bladed sabers he wore at his belt in black-and-silver scabbards would have been enough to draw attention to the man. But his insane collection of symbols tattooed into his skin had most people stopping in the street to stare. Most disconcerting were the quite lifelike eyes tattooed on his eyelids. Filling out the squad were Gurt and Wheeze. Both were dressed in standard leather armor and armed with light wooden shields and shortswords.
Salt’s worst fears seemed unfounded as his squad trudged through dark, muddy streets. Most of the people they met scurried off as quickly as they could when they spotted the heavily armed group. It came as a relief when Gurt said they had arrived at their first stop—an herbalist shop owned by a pungent wastrel of a man named Edrel. Edrel’s shop was dirty and poorly kept. Boxes and pots of unidentifiable herbs and powders overflowed or cracked and spilled their contents onto the floor. The man himself was little better. He was utterly filthy as only a street urchin had any right being. A ragged fringe of greasy hair hung into his eyes and made him blink with irritating frequency. After a few minutes of listening to Gurt speak to the man, Salt decided that the stop had been a waste of time. Everything the man spoke of was unnecessarily vague and only included topics that seemed totally unimportant to Salt. Still, the coins Gurt handed him were more than enough to buy a new set of clothes and a year’s worth of cheap soap. They moved back out to the street and set off again. The herbalist had seemed to forget they were there as soon as he got his payment.
“So what was all that about?” Salt asked as they moved down the street deeper into the slums.
“Ha! Sounds like nothing but crap I’m payin’ good coin for, right?” Salt grunted his agreement.
“Well, most times you’d be right. Some idiot selling tallow for ten times the going price wouldn’t mean anything to me. But I have to look into it. It might just be the materials come from somewhere they shouldn’t. All the rest of it was pure bullshit, though. Old Edrel likes to pad out the little bits of good stuff. Thinks I pay him more for it. Not that he’d believe me if I told him the truth.”
“How often do we have to come see this guy? His store smells worse than a bilge hold on a Keralan merchant ship.”
“That it does, lad. . . . We drop in on him as often as Lera puts him on our patrol. She seems to be able to tell when he has something for us. Doesn’t happen more than once a month most of the time. But trust me when I say we have to deal with far worse.”
“So what’s next?”
“We’re going to drop in on a guy named Skeg. Nasty piece of work. He’s got ties to nearly every mage in the city, legal and otherwise. After that, we’re supposed to have a look at a couple of warehouses near the docks. Lera says they’re warded but weren’t last week. Could just be expensive cargo and the owners are rich enough to hire a mage to make sure it stays safe . . . but we’d best take a look.” He turned to the others.
“Brolt and Seely, you go on ahead to the warehouses and take a quiet look. The rest of us will drop in on this tallow merchant on the way to see Skeg and meet you outside the Drunken Horse.”
Salt looked mildly surprised. “Aye, lad, we split up sometimes to speed things along. Brolt and Seely are the best scouts we have. Best to let them do their work without us walking on their coattails. Besides, they’ll both appreciate not having to see Skeg.” The others who hadn’t been named all voiced their agreement.
The tallow merchant turned out to be a fraud. The candles the man sold were of poor quality and did not contain any forbidden substances. “You’d be surprised how many freaky people are willing to pay a lot for candles made from human fat,” the merchant said in his defense. “I just sort of hinted that my special candles had a special ingredient and charged a lot for them.” Gurt just shook his head and said, “Just don’t get yourself killed over it.”
“Suicidal bastard,” he muttered as they left the shop. “As if we don’t have enough trouble keeping people alive in this city without idiots like him baiting crazy cultists.”
“It might draw some real targets out though,” said Salt. Gurt paused for a moment and considered.
“That he might, lad. Might as well make his self-destructive greed work in our favor. I’ll ask Lera to keep an eye on the place.”
Skye slapped him on the back. “Looks like you’ll fit right in, Salty.” Unsure whether he was being complimented or made fun of, Salt just grunted and kept walking.
They walked for a while longer until they came to an unmarked door at the end of a long alley. The place stunk even worse than most of the slums. “This is the place,” Gurt said as he pushed the door open. He waved to Salt to follow him in. The rest of the squad waited outside. The place was a stark contrast to the other shops they’d visited that night. While the building was as old and sagging as the others, the interior was spotless and well maintained. The dizzying variety of goods that the place contained were all neat and well organized. Salt looked around in wonder until he saw the shopkeeper standing behind a counter at the back of the room. He froze, unsure what to make of the ma
n. His eyes darted between the man’s strange tattoos and the chaotic variety of items and tools that had been pushed through the man’s skin and flesh. If it weren’t for the absence of blood and Gurt’s unperturbed expression, Salt would have sworn the shopkeeper had been tortured within an inch of his life.
“Welcome, Night Guardsmen.” The man’s voice was a gravelly rasp.
“Evening, Skeg,” Gurt answered. “Lera said you’d have something for us.”
“Of course, she did,” Skeg said, a knowing smile on his lips. He pushed a scrap of paper across the counter to Gurt and waited. Salt couldn’t make sense of the writing on it. He could read Bialtan after a fashion, but the writing on the paper was totally new to him.
Gurt looked at the paper for a second, then back at Skeg. “This true?”
“So I am told,” he answered, shrugging. “Make of it what you will.” They looked at each other in silence. There was something really weird about Skeg’s unblinking stare, Salt decided. Gurt dropped a handful of coins onto the counter and gestured for Salt to follow him out.
“That guy is seriously fucking creepy,” Salt said as they rejoined the others.
Gurt laughed. “As good a description for the old bastard as I’ve ever heard.”
“But he’s clean?” Salt asked. “Seems to me he’s just the kind of guy we’d be after.”
“He’s exactly what we’re after,” said Greal, fingering the hilt of his tulwar. “But he’s off-limits.”
Salt looked around at the others.
Gurt nodded. “We’re sure enough he’s involved with things he shouldn’t be. But he’s also not nearly as bad as he looks. He supplies Lera and her bunch with whatever they need. Not all of which is strictly legal. . . . So long as he gives us information that helps us catch bigger fish, we let it slide.”
“But how could he stay in business if he keeps turning in his customers?” Salt asked, confused.
The Bones of the Past (Books of Dust and Bone) Page 10
