by Tony Roberts
She did, however, promise to get hold of the landlords and also to arrange a repair gang to put right some of the worst of the neglect.
As they returned to the main street and its well-tended facades, Lalaas couldn’t help think that the empire was very much like Kastan City; outwardly everything was being repaired and well cared for, but dig a little deeper behind the front and the rotting interior was very much there. It worried him.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Another worried man was Evas Extonos in Niake. The depredations of Lombert Soul were getting worse and travellers were coming into the city complaining of bands of armed robbers roaming the countryside preying on merchants, pilgrims or just the ordinary traveller. Something would have to be done and fast. Complaints were mounting, piling up on Evas’ desk from merchants, clerics, nobles, guild members and farmers.
Evas fussed over whether to forward them to Kastan City or not. He had been assured that Prince Jorqel would take care of the matter but so far, apart from increasing the patrols in Lodria to the north, had done nothing in Bathenia where Lombert Soul’s main camp was obviously located.
As usual, when he was in a quandary, he sent for his two bête noires, High Priest Burnas and the merchant Demtro Kalfas. The High Priest was sitting solemnly in his high-backed chair, wearing a new long one-piece black cassock that reached his ankles, buttoned all the way down to the knees, the lowest part parted at the front. It was edged with purple to show his lofty position in the temple.
Demtro had a brand new colourful jacket of yellow, light blue and brown, and a fur-lined hat. The latter was his latest winter fashion, so he averred. His hose were tight fitting dull tan but over this he had a long coat of brown edged with white fur. The most expensive imported fur from Risania, he boasted. Burnas pointedly ignored him.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” Evas said, his fingers locked together with tension. “You may have heard of the latest developments in the countryside. Nobody seems safe anymore, and this Lombert Soul character appears to be holding Niake under virtual siege. Prince Jorqel doesn’t seem to be able to assist me in these times of trouble, so I wanted to hear your thoughts as to what should be done to make the region safer.”
Demtro smiled behind his relaxed pose, one hand resting against his cheek. He looked at the High Priest and bowed once, indicating the cleric should speak first. Burnas cleared his throat. “Hmph! Well, it is clear, as governor, you should take a more active role in ensuring the roads and countryside is clear of brigands,” he said, fixing Evas with a piercing glare. “Worshippers coming to see the new temple in Niake ought to be able to do so without molestation. You should take full responsibility!”
“But my resources are stretched thinly enough as it is,” Evas said helplessly. “The road to Aconia is taking most of my spare manpower and we have just enough to make sure Niake is policed safely. Where are the extra men going to come from, and who will pay them?”
“Don’t look at me, Governor,” Demtro said hastily, seeing Evas’ head turn in his direction. “The traders are looking to you to solve what they see as a problem under your jurisdiction. Simple solution really, isn’t it? Find Lombert’s lair and destroy it, along with him.”
“That requires a spy,” Evas said, pointedly.
“Ohhh,” Demtro leaned back. “You’re not asking that I send her out to do your job?”
Burnas frowned. “You did not hesitate to get her to do other jobs for you, Merchant. I believe she is – adept – at gaining sensitive information.”
“Such as that new monk of yours, what’s his name? Taken on someone who’s hardly pure in spirit, there, High Priest.”
“How dare you!” Burnas thundered angrily. “What are you inferring? And how did you find out I had a monk?”
“He told Clora the other day.”
“Clora? What was he doing speaking to her?”
Demtro grinned wickedly. “I think you’ll have to ask him that; suffice to say I can say without doubt he’s not pure in the slightest. He does pay well though, so I’m told.”
Burnas spluttered with outrage. Evas sighed and tapped his desk. “Gentlemen, enough of this; what about sending Clora into Lombert’s camp? We need a spy to give us enough information to be able to move against this rebel. Demtro, could you please see if you can arrange this?”
“I’ve got my hands full training a new merchant in the wormspun business at present,” Demtro spread his hands helplessly, a smile on his face. “The Koros are putting in lots of orders for new clothes and I’m having difficulties in keeping up with their demands. Good money, though,” he added with a nod.
“Your vulgar displays of wealth are not appreciated,” the High Priest growled. “The safety of your fellow man should be, if you have the people under you who could assist.”
Demtro shrugged his shoulders. “The loss of the Koros contract is worth far more to me than what I’m losing to Lombert Soul and his brigands at present. If the Koros want Lombert out of the way they should send the prince down from Slenna to do the job, or to employ a spy directly themselves. They do have one, so I’m told, but he’s working for the prince in Slenna at present. No, Governor, this is your problem and you’re going to have to find the funds to finance this yourself. Don’t ask for charity, I’m not inclined to give and the good High Priest here is a charity himself.”
Burnas snorted in displeasure. Evas sighed. “How much are you asking for?”
Demtro chuckled. “Ah, at last, the right language. I understand that after generously providing the High Priest here with the funds for the new temple, you’re shortly to build a new town hall on the ruins of some houses that are due to be knocked down in the spring?”
Evas glowered. “How did you find that out? That is confidential!”
Demtro looked smug. Burnas waved an irritated hand. “Governor, this man has ears and eyes everywhere – except, it seems, where they’re supposed to be. He enjoys the favour of the Koros, too, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he learned this from them first-hand.”
Evas grunted. “So, Merchant, what is it you want?”
“An office in the new building.”
“What in Kastan for?”
“Oh, you know, a spot close to the heartbeat of Niake. The town authorities will want their taxes collected, their tariffs paid and rents extorted on time. If I have an office there – rent free, of course – I can pay immediately. And Governor,” he pointed a long finger at Evas who was going to say something, “may I remind you that my taxes are amongst the highest in Niake?”
“Because you earn more than most in the city,” Burnas muttered darkly. “I would look favourably upon you if you donated some of your vast wealth to the temple.”
“Oh, High Priest, how could you stoop to blackmailing a good friend? My Clora has already performed a service to your monk; do you insist on trying to morally shame me into giving more to you for nothing?”
“Stop referring to that – disgraceful act!” Burnas said irritably. “It was not an official function of the temple, and I distance myself from it utterly! The gods are watching, Merchant, and they will judge you, not me!”
“Yes, yes,” Demtro waved a lazy hand. “I’m sure they will. Well, Governor, do I have my room or not?”
“Oh, very well!” Evas threw his arms up into the air. “Now, do I have your services in this matter?”
“I’ll get Clora working on it right away. High Priest, you’ll have to explain to the monk that Clora is no longer on his menu.”
“Shut up!” Burnas shrieked. “You go too far, sometimes!”
“That’s probably what the monk said,” Demtro said, pulling a face.
Burnas had to restrain himself from striking out at the merchant. “I trust this new merchant is not like you,” he said instead. “To have two like you would be unbearable.”
“Oh, you mean Thedran Blazikus? He’s a mercantile genius. He’ll probably be the one setting up his office in the town hall. He’s
a bit dull.”
“Which means he’s more human,” Burnas said pointedly.
“Ohh, High Priest, how droll,” Demtro replied, grinning. He stood up. “Very well, Governor, I’ll keep you appraised of the situation. Clora may need a bit of support in this venture; it seems to me to be a particularly dangerous assignment. I doubt we’ll see any progress for a little while, but with a little luck we’ll discover this rodent’s nest before long.”
“Please keep me informed,” Evas said. “Niake depends on being delivered from this beast.”
Demtro nodded and left. Burnas sighed deeply. “That man will be the death of me,” he said.
“You and I both, High Priest. If he weren’t good at his job I’d arrest him for some offence.”
“I shall pray to the gods for success in his endeavour – and also perhaps to ask them to bring him off his perch. He needs a little humility to wipe that smug look from his face.”
Evas smiled tiredly and nodded. “Please do.”
High Priest Burnas gave the governor the benefit of his severest stare, one he reserved usually for his sermons, when he thundered his denouncements forth against the sins of the listeners in the temple. “You tolerate that man far too much, Governor. He mocks your position, as well as mine! I am High Priest and demand the respect due to my position.”
“I’m well aware of his faults and vices, High Priest,” Evas said with patience. “But we both need him. He knows many things and has the ear of the empress. Someone like that is not one to ignore or pick fault with, and is a dangerous enemy.”
“But it does not justify him taking advantage of every situation, Governor! I resent him poking his business into my affairs; one day his long nose will poke into one business too much and it’ll be cut off.”
“High Priest, he knows many things as I said, and perhaps you should censure your monk, or whatever he is, for indulging in the vices of the flesh.”
Burnas spluttered again. “There is no proof! If he is guilty of these things, then the gods will punish him.”
“All the same, it may be best to put this monk onto matters of a more – spiritual nature, shall we say? That way there would be no opportunity of Demtro getting mixed up in your affairs.”
Burnas snorted, then lapsed into a glowering silence.
Demtro returned home. Clora was arranging some winter creeper greenery in a vase. Now it was winter no flowers were available for picking, but she liked to have some greenery to decorate the house. She smiled at Demtro’s return and kissed him on the lips. Demtro grinned and sat at the dining room table. Clora joined him shortly and sat on his lap, as Demtro preferred. He felt her figure slowly.
“Clora, I have a big and difficult task for you.”
The woman sat quietly and waited for Demtro to speak, her arms around his neck. She said nothing. She was content that her life was better than she could have ever dreamed of, even working as a prostitute for this man. He gave her clothes, jewellery, food, attention and a safe, warm home, and allowed her to go where she pleased. She regretted leaving him after the death of Fulmas, and had admitted to herself that her emotions had clouded her better judgement. The contrast between the safer more comfortable world of Demtro and that what she’d known at The Black Rodent could not be greater.
“Do you know of a man called Lombert Soul?”
“Yes!” she said in surprise, “isn’t that the horrible man robbing and killing people on the roads outside Niake?”
“That’s the one,” Demtro nodded. “Well, it seems he has a secret hideout somewhere in the hills not too far from here, and we need to know where it is. We also need to know how many people are with him, and what his plans are. You’re going to find that place for me, and also find out the other things.”
“But isn’t it dangerous?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it may well be; but Clora, I’ll tell you this. Lombert Soul was the man who ordered Fulmar’s death.”
“Oh!” Clora put her hand to her mouth. “It was him?”
“Indeed. Now we need to put an end to his terrible ways, and I’m putting my hopes on you, my lovely little thing.”
Clora sat still for a moment, then looked serious. “If it means making the roads of Niake safer, and getting the man who killed Fulmar, then yes, I will be glad to.”
Demtro beamed and hugged Clora. “Ah, you’re a treasure, you know? So, I need to work out how to get you to Lombert Soul, and then to arrange how to have you pass information onto me. Hmmm… I need to see somebody. What we need to do is to fool them into thinking you dislike the Koros. That way they’ll be happy to have you amongst them. I’m going out for a bit, Clora,” Demtro said, gently pushing the girl off his lap, “cook up a nice winter stew. I’ll be about the length of the afternoon watch, so I should be back by dusk.”
He went to his room and quickly changed; winter was not a time to move about the house without sufficient clothing. One of his wardrobes was full of working clothes rather than social attire, and he stepped into the cavernous interior. He selected a shabby looking coat and worn high leather boots, items he would never usually wear, but he was going to a place that a rich man would never be seen in. He glanced back at the shut door of his room. Clora was downstairs, so Demtro reached to the back of his wardrobe and located a catch and pulled it. The back slid open and beyond was revealed a dark and cold corridor.
Shutting the wardrobe door, Demtro pushed into the corridor and slid the back door shut. A man such as he had uses for a secret way out of his home, and the recently installed escape route was a safety measure he may have use of one day. Not even Clora was aware of it. Best nobody else knew of it, and those who had built it were now working on the port improvements in Aconia, nowhere near Niake.
There was a flight of narrow steps a short distance off, and he groped his way down blindly in the dark. Then he reached the stone floored ground and walked forward to where faint light was showing at the end, and he slowly unfastened the latch and pulled the door open. Beyond was a narrow, filthy and overgrown back lane, hemmed in by tall buildings.
Nobody ever bothered with this route, since the house was in a rich district and everyone came and went by the front doors. A back lane was old and now forgotten, except by a few who used it for various reasons, and usually these were secret.
Demtro allowed the latch to drop as he pushed the door shut and made his way carefully down the lane to where it emerged onto the street. Snow was falling and coated the ground, and he huddled into his threadbare coat, crushing a faded cap onto his head and walked off, head down, just another anonymous citizen making his way home as fast as he could.
He turned left at the end of the street and made his way along an artisans’ road, ignoring the shop windows and the wares still on display, although many were now bringing their goods back into the premises. Cobblers, coopers, furniture makers, hosiers, jewellers. There were more but Demtro kept on going, avoiding the worst of the slippery looking street cobbles and turning right into a narrow street. Two people looked furtively at him as he passed but Demtro pushed through, not making eye contact. One looked like he was selling the leaf. Not a good sign.
At the end there stood a maze of streets and alleyways. The streets were winding and the buildings leaned out drunkenly, their beams bent into incredible shapes with age. Here were taverns, butchers shops and tanners, and then there were other places the respectable avoided.
Demtro looked at the peeling sign of the Half Moons tavern, and slid round the side, looking for someone. Sure enough, a man was crouched in the gutters, smoking something, swathed in a mound of clothes.
Demtro leaned against a tethering post that still had equine faeces piled close by, and cleared his throat. The shape moved, a face covered in stubble, dirt and whose nose was red and running, looked up through bloodshot eyes. “Oh,” he said finally, “it’s you.”
“Now, now, Zonis, is that the way to greet your old friend?”
Zonis hawked up a thick glob
ule of phlegm and spat it across the narrow street. “Thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“As if,” Demtro said, looking down the street. Nobody was close. “I have a job for you.”
Zonis laughed, his voice scratchy and deep. He coughed and bent double, caught in a paroxysm of coughs. Finally it ceased and he leaned back, breathing in deeply. “Just like that, eh? Look at me, I’m one of Niake’s forgotten people. Nobody cares a bit about people like me. Those who have money just carry on like there is nothing wrong, while we suffer. Bastards, you can all go to the black pit of oblivion!”
“That’s the spirit,” Demtro smiled. “Good to see you’re as enthusiastic as ever. That’s why I value you, you know, Zonis.”
“You’re a heartless user of people, Demtro. I bet you’ve been humping rich sweet smelling women these past few years and getting rich on selling your useless superficial wares to those who believe an image is all important.” Zonis’ voice was getting stronger. “False people need images, real people don’t!”
Demtro laughed but his eyes remained serious. “Oh, how very droll, Zonis. I see you’re just as analytical as usual. What’s that you’re smoking, anyway? Its not the leaf, is it?”
Zonis examined the clay pipe he held in his filthy hand. “You must be joking! How the gods could I afford that? In any event, if it were the leaf, I’d be lying here wetting myself in a stupor with my brains oozing out of my ears. No, this is just some pain killing substitute from the West. Cheap, readily available, and I enjoy it. Just about the only thing in my life I do, these days.”
“Such are the mighty fallen,” Demtro sighed in mock pity. “To think you were one of the empire’s great military hopes ten years ago. Look at you now.”
