Sword Empire
Page 17
The Gheddan war machine was poised and ready, and a Gheddan First Strike attack on Alpha was imminent. The signs were all too ominous. The levels of anticipation and excitement were rising with every day. There was very little more that they could learn here, and if they left it too late, it might be impossible for Antar to get the pick-up aircraft back into the mouth of the Great Swamp River to get them out. Zela was convinced that, as a first class battle pilot, her skills would now be more desperately needed in the direct defence of her homeland. It was time to return.
Jayna agreed. “The City of Swords has become too dangerous, and soon we could be pushing our luck too far.” She sat heavily and wearily on her bed after they left the public drinking room below. It had been their sixth long night of mingling and drinking with the crowds, and although they all had good heads for alcohol, the accumulative effects of the sour Gheddan ale was beginning to take its toll. “The city guards are not complete fools,” she continued. Soon they will notice our continued presence and our obvious interest in all the war talk. Or someone will report it to them.”
“Jayna is right.” Zela supported her, and was glad of the lead. “In any case, we have learned enough. It is again going to take us several days to get back up-river and then make the land trek back to the skimmer. There is no more time to waste.”
Only Kananda argued for more time. In all the babble of the war talk, they had picked up no more news of the Sword Lord Raven and the brown-skinned alien woman from the third planet. Every day that they remained here increased the likelihood that Raven and Maryam would also return to the city, and Kananda was still desperate to find his sister. The thought that they could leave and again miss her by a matter of hours was a source of increasing agony to him.
“We will give you one more day,” Jayna conceded after they had argued the matter back and forth. “Zela and I will go out again tomorrow, and this time we will specifically ask as much as we dare about the whereabouts of your sister. After that, we must start on our return journey.”
“I will come with you,” Kananda said promptly.
The two women looked at each other and frowned. Zela spelled out their thoughts.
“It is best if we each go alone. When Lars spoke of your sister, your anger almost betrayed you. Your passions in this matter can erupt too easily.”
Kananda tightened his lips and bit back the impulse to argue further. His frustration simmered inside him, and yet he knew they were right. He was also reluctant to agree to a limit to their time here, but again he knew that one had to be set. They had already indulged him as much as they dared.
“I will go back to the markets in the military zone,” Jayna promised. “If there is any news of Maryam’s return, it will be in the gossip of the women who share their beds with the swordsmen and the Space Corps officers.”
Kananda knew that she would be taking a risk. She was more likely to arouse suspicion there than in the general free-for-all of the larger markets of Wharfside. He thanked her with as much grace as he could muster, and then rolled onto his own bed to sleep. However, he lay awake most of the night with his thoughts churning. For once, he had not even thought to take his boots off.
By dawn, he had made his decision. After the two women had left, he would go out alone, to prowl the streets yet again in the hope of catching a glimpse or a word of his sister. If he failed, and if Jayna and Zela again returned with no news, then tomorrow they could leave without him. He had no idea of how he could survive here or hope to ever return to Alpha without their help, but he would not leave this city and this continent until he had found Maryam. By Indra’s grace he would find her, and with his sword he would slay her foul captor and win her back to his side. All the rest was in the will of the gods.
They ate a plain but ample breakfast at one of the common tables in the near-empty public room. The owner of the Green Fish was a taciturn Gheddan in his fifties named Claud. His trademark was a greasy apron which was never changed or washed, and he had perfected the art of moving through the banter and insults of his customers without ever noticing the abuse. Only rarely would some drunkard go too far, and then Claud’s hand would settle purposefully on the hilt of the long dagger he wore at his waist. A dagger was obviously more useful than a sword in the close quarters of a crowded bar room, and always the offender would be wisely steered away to a safe distance by his companions.
At first Claud had paid them little or no attention. They had paid for four nights in advance for their room, and then for three more. But he was becoming more and more curious at their prolonged stay. He said nothing as he served them bread, cheese and fruit, but his eyes were speculative.
“You understand,” Jayna leaned forward and spoke softly to Kananda after Claud had moved away. His backward glance had lingered too long, as though he had been almost on the point of voicing his curiosity. “If we extend our stay beyond what we have already paid for, he will be asking questions.”
It galled him, but again Kananda had to acknowledge that she was right.
They finished their meal and then Jayna and Zela left to go their separate ways. Kananda sipped the last of the cup of ale that had been served with their breakfast as he watched them depart and then rose from the table. He knew that they were as reluctant to let him wander away from their watchful eyes as he was to let either of them stray from the protection of his sword, and so he had said nothing of his intentions. Now he headed back to their room to pick up his cloak, but as he reached the foot of the stairs leading to the upper balcony he heard the outer door open again.
He glanced back, stepping instinctively into the shadow below the stairs. He had thought for a second that it might be Jayna or Zela returning, but it was neither. Instead he recognized the tall, lean figure of the boatman, Lars.
Lars was also looking thoughtfully over his shoulder, and lingered for a moment in the open doorway. Then he turned and came into the inn, blinking in the gloom after leaving the cold but bright morning sunlight. By this time Kananda had moved deeper into the shadow. The door to the latrine was standing open behind him and he stepped silently inside, holding his breath against the stench of the open, shallow urine trench.
Lars walked up to the long wooden counter and slapped down some coin. The sound brought Claud from the small storeroom behind the bar where he had been checking his stock. Lars ordered an ale and then said bluntly, “The two women who just went out. Do you know them?”
“They are staying here,” Claud admitted.
Lars smiled. It was almost a leer. Claud added a note of warning. “They have a male companion. He looks as though he could be useful with a blade.”
Lars nodded. “I know them. I brought all three of them up-river from Corrion a week ago. Are they performing here?”
“Performing?” Claud raised a dubious eyebrow.
“The two women are dancers. The man is their protector. I saw them dance in Corrion. It was a good performance. I would like to see it again.”
“Ah,” Claud nodded. “They did say something about looking for dancing work, but they have no lyre-player. The member of their troupe who makes the music was taken sick. They are waiting for him to come up from Corrion.”
It was the story Jayna had given on the night of their arrival. All three of them had agreed that it was still the best cover for their presence here, and that the events of Corrion were a combination of sheer misfortune which were unlikely to be repeated. Now Kananda realized that the whims of the gods were against them, and they had continued with a fatal mistake.
Lars was scratching his chin, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “This is strange,” he reflected. “In Corrion, they said at first that they could not dance because their musician had already gone ahead of them to the city. Another musician had to be found. Now they claim that they cannot dance because he has been left behind.”
Claud shrugged. His business lay in making a profit from his trade, and was usually best served by turning a blind eye to muc
h of the only semi-legal business of his clients.
Lars was thinking aloud again. “Some weeks ago, an Alphan spy was uncovered and killed here in the city. He had a woman with him and a dancing bear. The bear was also killed, but the woman escaped.” His voice trailed away and he murmured almost under his breath, “I think perhaps there was a reward.”
Kananda had heard enough and had lingered as long as he dared. There was a second door from the latrine which let out into the back yard where the ale barrels and wine crates were unloaded and he used it to make his escape. Fortunately it was still too early in the morning and the first delivery carts had not yet arrived. The yard was empty except for a sleeping dog, an animal that was old in years and fat from scraps thrown from the eating tables. Kananda gave it a wide berth, moving silently and praying that it had no acute sense of smell. Once clear and out into the back street, he breathed again, an almost explosive gasp, and then he cursed savagely.
He wondered briefly what ill fortune had brought Lars to the Green Fish? Jayna had taken pains to find a room that was as far as possible from the quayside on the far side of the river where they had left him and his boat. Perhaps by this time Lars had made another trip up to Corrion and was now moored up on this side of the river, in which case it could be just sheer bad luck that he had stumbled upon them again. Kananda swore more profusely, and then considered the more likely possibility that Lars had been deliberately searching for them. Lars wanted Jayna, that much was certain, and Jayna had led him on to believe that she might be available.
Another possibility was that after they had left, Lars had somehow made the mental link between Jayna and the woman spy who had escaped when Blane and the dancing bear had been killed. In which case, it was not sexual lust but monetary reward which had spurred him to track them down. The fact that he had obviously let Jayna and Zela pass without showing himself strongly suggested the latter. Lars had mentioned Blane and Tojo in his last musing comments to Claud, and it had not sounded like a sudden revelation. Either way, the more Kananda thought about it, the more certain he became that Lars must have deliberately set out to hunt them down.
The old jealous urge to grind his fist into the boatman’s face suddenly became a burning desire to skewer the man with his sword. However, Kananda slowly accepted that such thoughts were a waste of time. The harsh fact was that they were almost certainly compromised beyond repair. Lars or Claud would by now be reporting them to the City Guard, and if any of them returned to the Green Fish, they would be walking into a steel trap. He had to find both Zela and Jayna and warn them.
By now they had a good ten minutes start on him, and he only knew the general directions in which they were headed. Jayna had the longest walk, away from Wharfside and beyond the old part of the town to the food and clothing markets which lay next to the Space Corps centre and the military barracks. Zela was aiming for the three main markets that lay within the labyrinth which was the thousand-year-old maze of the original city, but he did not know which of them she intended to visit first. He reasoned that if he could pick up Zela quickly, there could still be time for them both to catch up with Jayna.
The largest and most general of the three Wharfside markets was the nearest, and he hurried there as quickly as he dared. To break into a run would have attracted attention, but he walked briskly with long strides. The narrow streets lined with stone-walled buildings were filling up now with Gheddans going about their daily business, and the growing crowds slowed his progress. Most of them were women, merchants and hawkers, but there were many swordsmen amongst them, and to bump or jostle one of those, he knew, could lead quickly to an unwanted challenge, which was something he now had to avoid. His heart also hammered with each glimpse of a hard leather helmet and black leather body armour, and he had to slow his pace to a leisurely stroll to pass under the bleak and ever watchful eyes of the guard patrols.
Above him the Gheddan sky-cars, which he thought of as sky-chariots, criss-crossed the blue on prescribed levels which paralleled the streets below. Only the airborne patrols of the City Guard were allowed to deviate from the set routes, but Kananda paid them little attention. He still had not quite grasped the idea that they could see him just as clearly, and so were an even more likely source of danger than the foot patrols.
The market was contained within the crumbling walls of a vast warehouse that was now almost on the point of collapse. Most of the roof was gone, but many of the central posts still remained to support the timbers of sagging rafters. These were now stretched over with a patchwork of canvas sacking to give some shade from the sun, although as a protection from the rain they were worse than useless. However, it was a dry morning, and the narrow lanes between the jumbles of stalls were packed shoulder-to shoulder with slow-moving streams of blue-skinned, black-cloaked Gheddans.
At either end, there were eating and drinking tables, and Kananda’s first hope was that he would find Zela at one of those, outwardly relaxing but inwardly observing. However, he drew a blank at both ends. For half an hour, he moved slowly up and down the dividing lanes, but after two complete circuits, during which he had covered the groups haggling and gossiping at every stall, there was still no sign of her. Zela had been wearing a cloak of black furs to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, but the market was a heaving mass of black cloaks and he could not be sure that he had not missed her in the close-packed crowds. He checked the food stalls at each end for the third time and then stood baffled and frustrated. He had to decide between staying here or moving on to one of the other markets. Time was flying, and either way he could pass her within a few feet and miss her by seconds.
Finally, he decided to move on to the main Wharfside food market which was a good twenty minutes walk away. Again he hurried as fast as he dared. Gheddan males seemed generally deliberate and lethargic, except when they were brawling or drinking, and he did not want to appear too purposeful. Which meant that Kananda had to hold down his mounting anxiety and curb his natural impulse to move quickly.
The food market was on a patch of abandoned open ground, an area where ancient buildings had collapsed and disappeared into a general layer of trampled rubble. The stalls here were mainly horse or hand-pulled carts that disappeared overnight to the growing fields outside the city. Each dawn, they returned laden with more fresh fruit, fish, meat and vegetables. The crowd here was mostly women, bartering for the daily meals, but he found no sign of Zela.
There was a third market where tradesmen in wood, iron, leather and metal came to offer their various wares. Kananda checked it out in turn to no avail, and then stood cursing under his breath.
He could go back to the general market and start again, but now he would be running around in desperate circles. Zela could be visiting the markets in any order, and she would not linger for any noticeable amount of time in any of them. Or she could have sensed a more likely source of information which could have led her into any of the drinking dens and food halls that were scattered throughout the city. She could have gone back to the quaysides where visiting sailors brought and sought news and much was exchanged. Her quest was dependant upon her own instincts and the opportunities the day might offer. She had no specifically fixed itinerary.
Kananda considered heading into the military sector to check out the two markets which Jayna had intended to visit. But Jayna too may have already spent as much time dawdling there as she dared. She too could be following another unexpected lead or impulse. The sun was high overhead and half the day had gone. With a sudden new surge of alarm, he realized that it was possible that one of them might even have picked up the news they were seeking and be even now on her way back to the Green Fish.
Kananda decided abruptly that he did not dare to waste any more time on aimless searching. His only hope now was to return to a vantage point near the inn and hope that he could stay unseen and yet still be able to intercept them before they went inside. He spun on his heel and walked quickly back the way he had come.
From here he knew his way, and re-traced his steps to the Green Fish. The inn stood on a corner where it could be approached from two directions. There was no sign that it was watched, but most of the overhanging upper windows were boarded by wooden shutters and there could have been a score of guards hidden inside. Or none. Without entering the building, there was no way of knowing.
There was a second inn, barely seventy paces away on the same street, called the Silver Blade. Kananda waited until a passing cart gave him cover to approach and turned quickly inside. He seated himself at a table near an open window which gave him a view of the Green Fish and called for an ale. While he waited for it to be served, his heart hammered and he was tensed and ready to jump up and draw his sword, but no one paid him any attention. There were no other customers in the drinking room of the Silver Blade, and no sign of any response or movement from the Green Fish.
Kananda waited until his drink had been served, and then slowly he relaxed. Either no one had noticed his arrival, or the City Guards were waiting for all three of them to walk into the trap. He stayed alert and watchful and waited. Now there was nothing else that he could do.