Pages of Pain p-1

by Troy Denning

  The Thrasson released her, then saw that she had already slashed the throats of four warriors. A fifth hung motionless in the razorvine, the hilt of a baroque throwing knife lodged between his eyes. Sickened by the needless killing, the Amnesian Hero cleaned his blade and thrust it into his scabbard, then retrieved his amphora and turned to leave.

  The Thrasson found the tiefling in front of him, using the stump of a broken githyanki sword to hack through the leader's neck. This one was the last to die; she had already decapitated the other survivor.

  The sight stunned the Amnesian Hero so badly that he could not quite believe what he was seeing. The other attacks could be excused by the heat of battle; it was not unreasonable to slay disabled foes to prevent them from rejoining the fray later-but this was murder. The Thrasson lay the amphora aside, then caught Jayk's arm and wrenched the bloody sword from her grasp.

  "You're a maniac!"

  The only sound to pass between the Thrasson and the tiefling was a muted drone. Jayk ran her red-stained fingers through the flickering motions of a counterspell, at the same time raising her gaze to meet that of the Amnesian Hero. Her black eyes were large and round, and her mouth was shaped into a small, astonished O. On her shadowy face, the expression seemed more a parody of innocence than one of innocence itself, but neither did she show any sign of guilt or remorse.

  The tiefling gestured at the fallen githyanki. "You think I kill them, yes?"

  "You did kill them." The Amnesian Hero's stomach began to chum, and he had the sick feeling that taking Jayk as his guide had been a terrible mistake. "Tessali was right. You belong in a locked cell."

  The tiefling's face grew even darker. "Me? I do not think the Lady of Pain lives in a barmyhouse, huh?" She spun on her heel and started toward the back of the alley, limping because of a slashed thigh she had suffered when the githyanki first ambushed them. "You know nothing!"

  The Amnesian Hero glanced over the dead githyanki. "I know that I had disabled these warriors." His voice was hard with reproach. "There was no reason to kill them."

  "There was reason-good reason." Jayk stopped at the back of the alley and flashed a smile. "Besides, life, she is only an illusion."

  "Illusion or not, there's no glory in killing helpless foes." The Amnesian Hero fixed her with a stony glare. "It's better to let them live, so they can describe the battle and sing your fame."

  "Pah! Fame is delusion."

  "To those who lack it, perhaps." The Thrasson picked up his amphora and gestured up the alley. "Let's go. You promised to show me to the Lady of Pain."

  "No. It is better to hide here." She waved at the back of the alley, where the razorvine was so dense it hid the walls of the surrounding buildings. "If someone comes because of the fighting, they will not look for us in there."

  The Thrasson scowled. "There's no use stalling. If you lied to me…"

  Jayk raised a hand. "I do not stall." She motioned at the githyanki. "We should not show ourselves. The bounty hunters, they already look for us in all the streets and alleys of the Hive, yes? But they do not expect to find us here. It is much better to wait, you will see-but hurry!"

  Deciding that the murderous tiefling was bound to be more experienced in such matters than he, the Amnesian Hero reluctantly nodded. While he cut a swath through the razorvine, she used a saw-toothed githyanki sword to drag the severed stems aside. It took only a moment to clear their cubby hole, then they took the amphora inside and pulled the stalks back over the entrance. The hollow was just large enough for them to squat side-by-side without brushing against the surrounding vines, and the light filtering in from outside was dim and spotty. The Thrasson knew the hiding place would not stand up to a close inspection, but he had also seen enough of Sigil to realize its residents instinctively shied away from razorvine; if someone came to investigate the fighting, the last place they would search for victors was among the black-leaved tangles.

  The Amnesian Hero used his sword to clear a small viewing hole. "I trust you know what you're doing, Jayk."

  "I cannot walk far with this." Jayk gestured at her wounded thigh. "And if you were to help me, people would notice and call Tessali's netflingers, yes?"

  The Thrasson nodded. "I suppose so."

  The netflingers had attacked as they straggled to push their way through the Salvation Line outside the Gatehouse. The steel mesh nets were surprisingly effective; as soon as they settled over a victim's torso, the flinger pulled a draw cord that tightened the outer loop and pinned the captive's arms to his ribs. Despite his enchanted armor, the Amnesian Hero had been temporarily caught in one. He would have been dragged back to Tessali, had Jayk not saved him by creating a cloud of stinking magic gas that had sickened his attacker and sent the entire Salvation Line scurrying for cover. The two escapees had joined the resulting stampede and fled the Marble District, then ducked into the back alleys to avoid Gatehouse search parties. Had they not stumbled into the githyanki bounty hunters, they might well have escaped the Hive entirely undetected.

  Noticing that Jayk had made no move to stanch her bleeding, the Amnesian Hero gestured at her wound. "Aren't you going to do anything about that?"

  Jayk kept her dark gaze fixed on her leg, watching with a peculiar fascination as the blood bubbled from the slash. "Why?"

  The Amnesian Hero rolled his eyes. "So you don't bleed to death before I see the Lady of Pain."

  He pulled his dagger and cut her trousers away from her wound. As he worked, the murmur of soft voices began to rustle down the alley. The Amnesian Hero peered through the viewing hole he had cut and saw a pack of wild-haired urchins pulling a wobble-wheeled cart around the comer. None of them looked to be more than eight or nine years old, though they were so scrawny and sunken-eyed that it was difficult to tell.

  When they saw the dead githyanki, the eldest, or at least the largest, raised a hand to stop the procession. He performed a cursory scan of the area, then sent a single sentry up the alley to keep watch. The rest, he led forward to the corpses.

  As they approached, the Amnesian Hero saw no sign of shock or fear on the faces of the children, or even of distaste. The youngest, a soot-faced waif no taller than the Thrasson's sword, was smiling and strutting proudly along at the leader's side.

  "See, Spider?" Only after he heard her voice could the Amnesian Hero tell that she was a girl. "I telled ya they ran down here. I heard a clank!"

  "Aye, you did well, Sally." Spider ran a wary eye back up the alley, pausing to study each bricked-over window and vine-choked doorway. "But I'd like to know what happened to that tiefling and her blood. They might not like us scraggin' their kill."

  Disgusted by the thought of children robbing the dead, the Amnesian Hero started to rise. Jayk caught his arm and shook her head. The Thrasson reluctantly remained were he was and continued to watch. When no one appeared to chase them off, Spider waved the other children to the corpses.

  "Let's nick 'em! And be sure to check their teeth."

  The leader and another boy used a githyanki sword to drag free the warrior in the razorvine, then the entire pack set to work stripping the bodies. They took the corpses' armor and weapons, then their boots, purses, and underclothes as well. They ripped rings from earlobes and fingers, they tore studs from noses, lips, and tongues, they knocked out teeth and cracked them for the fillings, they harvested the githyankis' coarse topknots for rope-making; young Sally even cut the tattoo of a snake from the leader's arm, claiming to her disgusted comrades that she could sell it for two coppers. By the time the urchins had packed their cart, taking care to secure the best treasures in secret pockets inside their rags, the bodies lay naked and even more mangled than before.

  Stomach churning with both revulsion and pity, the Amnesian Hero watched the waifs until their cart wheeled around the comer.

  "What place is this?" He whirled on Jayk, searching for some hint of emotion in the delicate features of her shadowed face. "Did I wander through a portal and fall into the Abyss?"
>
  "Do not be so silly." Jayk slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and gave him a beguiling half-smile. "You would know it if you were in the Abyss. This is still Sigil."

  "That is what I feared." The Amnesian Hero shook his head, then started to push open their door of vines. "I can wait in this place no longer. Take me to the Lady of Pain."

  Jayk pulled him back to his knees. "Be patient. Those bodies, they are worth seven coppers. The children will report them, and our ride will come soon. While we wait, you can tell me about yourself, yes? Who you are, and why you wish to fight the Lady of Pain?"

  "Who said I want to fight her?"

  The tiefling shrugged. "It does not matter. You will lose anyway."

  "I'm only trying to deliver a gift." The Thrasson gestured at the amphora. "Why should that offend her?"

  "Who is to say it will?" Jayk asked. "Now, tell me about yourself. If I am prepared, things will go faster at the Mortuary."

  "Mortuary?"

  "Did you not say you wanted to see the Lady of Pain?"

  "Of course, but-"

  "Then I must know more about you."

  The Amnesian Hero frowned. "You can take me to the Lady of Pain? If you're another of Sigil's tricksters-"

  "I will show you how to find the Lady! But first, we make the preparations, yes? Tell me who you are."

  The Amnesian Hero hesitated, then forced himself to lift his chin proudly. "I am the slayer of the Hydra of Thrassos, the tamer of the Hebron Crocodile, the bane of Abudrian Dragons, the savior of the Virgins of Marmara, the champion of the Dyrian Kings, the killer of the Chakedon Lion…"

  Jayk grasped his forearm. "I am already impressed with your swordsmanship. Only your name, yes?"

  The Thrasson's gaze dropped. "I don't know it."

  Jayk's shadowy face rippled with confusion. "How can that be? Your mother, she could not speak?"

  "Of course she could!" The Amnesian Hero flushed, then amended, "At least I assume she could. I can't remember."

  Jayk's dark eyes widened. She stared at the Thrasson and said nothing.

  "I awoke on the shore near Thrassos, on the first layer of Arborea. I recall nothing before that."

  Jayk seemed unable to take her dark eyes off him. "You have no link to your past?"

  The Amnesian Hero looked away. "Sometimes I glimpse the face of a woman I think I once knew, but she always disappears before I can speak with her." He did not add that he was usually drinking at the time. "But I am sure I am a man of renown. That much is obvious from my bearing."

  "And your skill with a sword, yes?"

  "Yes." The Thrasson smiled, wanning to the tiefling. "I must have lost my memory battling one of Poseidon's sea monsters. That would explain why I was found on the shore of an Arborean sea, and why he promised to restore my memories in return for delivering this."

  He thumped the amphora.

  Jayk's jaw dropped. "You want your memories back? But you arc halfway to the next stage!"

  "Stage?"

  "Of death! To remember is to go backward! You are like the zombie." She pronounced it zoombee. "He cannot recall the light at his back, yet he is afraid to face the dark truth ahead."

  "Jayk, the light is still real for me. I am no zombie."

  "You are, my dear. That is what I shall call you, yes?"

  "No!"

  "Zoombee! It sounds so nice, so… enticing."

  Jayk's face drifted toward his, her dark lips parting ever so slightly. The Amnesian Hero had tasted the mouths of many Arborean women, of course, but he could feel something more powerful, far deeper and brutally primal, drawing his head toward hers. Men of renown were not expected to forgo the pleasures of the flesh – some of their greatest feats came from yielding to such temptations – but the Thrasson could not forget how the tiefling's pupils had a habit of narrowing to black diamonds, nor the fangs that he had seen folding down from the roof of her mouth.

  "Later." He abruptly pulled back. "Perhaps when the light isn't so bright."

  Jayk inclined her head, her eyelids lowered too far for the Thrasson to see whether her pupils were shaped like circles or diamonds.

  "Whenever you are ready, Zoombee." She gave him a knowing smile. "I will be ready too."

  The Amnesian Hero-Zoombee-swallowed nervously, then turned away. "You are beautiful, Jayk, but I do not think it is our destiny to… make kisses."

  "But why not, Zoombee? Because I am tiefling?"

  "You must not think that." The Thrasson looked back to Jayk and found her lips bowed into a coy grin. He felt himself flush, angry at being mocked. "Because you arc a murderess – and because I must think of other business. Remember the Lady of Pain?"

  The tiefling's face drooped into an insincere sulk. "Soon, Zoombee. I think that is our ride coming now."

  The Amnesian Hero looked through his viewing hole. He saw only the dead bounty hunters, but he did notice a foul odor building in the alley. At first, he thought the stink was coming from the githyanki corpses, hut as the fetor grew stronger, he realized that could not be so. Even in Sigil, seven bodies could not rot fast enough to emit such a stench so soon. The Thrasson rubbed his hand in the mordant dirt, then covered his mouth and nose to mask the awful reek.

  Jayk yanked his hand away from his face. "It is better to grow accustomed to the smell now. If you retch later, someone will hear you, yes?"

  A pattern of slow, rhythmic creaks began to echo off the tenement walls, underscored by the rising drone of an insect cloud. The Amnesian Hero did his best to breathe through his mouth and keep his nostrils closed, but the effort was doomed to failure. Every time he inhaled, he found himself fighting to hold his gorge down, and every time he exhaled, he begged Apollo to keep him from drawing another breath. His prayer went unanswered, for this is Sigil, and the gods have no power here. The Thrasson continued to breathe the rancid air. He began to feel hot and queasy; he grew sicker with every lungful, and soon his legs trembled with weakness.

  A cloud of black flies drifted around the comer, swirling over what appeared to be a jumbled, floating mountain of corpses. The Amnesian Hero gasped at the sight and, gagging on the stench, wished he hadn't. Then he noticed a pair of high sideboards holding the pile in check and realized the bodies lay heaped on the bed of a mighty barrow. So enormous was the wagon that it brushed the tenements on both-sides of the alley, dragging long tangles of razorvine free of the mud brick walls.

  Standing high atop the hill of rotting flesh, his shape blurred by the haze of flies whirling around him, was a single figure in a black cape similar to Jayk's. He glanced over his shoulder and called something to the driver. A huge, creaking wheel rolled into sight, and the wagon began to swing around. The back comer pushed through a tangle of razorvine and crunched against the building beneath, then the guide snapped a sharp command. The barrow lurched to a halt.

  "This is our ride7" The Amnesian Hero did his best to sound more curious than repulsed; this simple errand was becoming something of a feat, and during feats, true men of renown accepted even the most loathsome events with good grace. "I notice the man wears a cape similar to yours."

  "Yes, we are both Dustmen." Jayk leaned close and peered through the viewing hole as the guide and driver scrambled down to retrieve the githyanki. "But we must not let him see us when we climb aboard."

  The Amnesian Hero scowled. "How will we do that? Won't he notice us… sitting on… the…" The Thrasson let the question trail off, barely managing to keep from retching as he realized where they would be riding. "We can find a disguise for me somewhere in that mess. I'd much rather ride in front."

  "That is not possible, dear Zoombee. You must be strong and ride with me, yes?"

  "Surely, they'll let you ride in front! Perhaps one of them is a friend of yours."

  "Friendship is a delusion!" Jayk hissed the words, never taking her dark eyes off the two Dustmen, who were already dragging the second pair of githyanki back to the wagon. "Besides, we must think of the Mercykillers.
If the driver does not know about us, it is easier for him to lie, yes?"

  "Yes." The Amnesian Hero sighed, remembering how the Mercykiller guard at the Hall of Information had invaded his mind to verify his statements. "I trust I'll have a chance to wash the stink off before my audience with the Lady of Pain?"

  "But why, Zoombee? She will like the smell of death!"

  They watched the Dustmen throw the last of the githyanki onto the wagon. Then, as the pair climbed over the heap toward the front of the huge barrow, the Amnesian Hero used the amphora to push the razorvine out of their way. By the time he and Jayk had crawled from their hiding place, the crack of the driver's whip was echoing down the alley. The Thrasson threw the amphora onto bis shoulder, then, trying to ignore the indignity of what he was doing, ran for the death wagon. Rivergate

  They had entered the Mortuary District, the Amnesian Hero could tell. He knew by the steady trundle of the death wagon, by how it no longer veered down every side street in search of unclaimed corpses, by the way its axles groaned under its burden of spent lives. The barrow was overloaded, bodies heaped higher than the side slats, and the driver was heading for home. Through a tangle of arms and necks and dead, bulging eyes, the Thrasson could see a long file of somber monuments drifting past the wagon: granite balls clutched in rusty iron claws, soaring obelisks of white marble, black walls etched with a thousand names, a hundred worthless stones erected to the memories of someone whom someone else had once thought worth remembering. Jayk lay next to him, breathing fast and shallow and hot; his own heart was beating like a sword against a shield. Soon, the wagon would enter the Mortuary proper, the true palace of the Lady of Pain, and he would present her with Poseidon's amphora.

  The wagon lumbered past another dozen monuments, then the driver suddenly drew rein. The Amnesian Hero thought they were slowing to pass through the Mortuary's gate, until a gruff voice barked "Halt!"