connection, do we?'
'No we don't, but there's something that I haven't told you.'
'What is it?'
'The Emperor has discovered that there is a traitor in the city, and, there will be an attempt on his life at the Ball.'
'Then we have to call off the Ball, Sir.'
'The Emperor already told me that he won't do that. He's proposing to be the bait in a trap.'
'You're not going to let him, surely?'
'I've tried to tell him that it's a bad idea, but he won't listen to me.'
Cromwell shook his head.
'Look,' Winterburne said, 'it's quite possible that there is nothing to find in that book, but we have to know.'
Cromwell nodded. 'So, how will I know if I do find something, Sir? What if none of the names are listed?'
Winterburne thought for a moment, and then looked at Cromwell. It was an imprecise science he had to admit, but it was a good chance for his Lieutenant to show how far he had come. 'You allow your intuition to tell you. You'll know.'
Cromwell sighed.
The afternoon sun soared above the roofs of the houses as they turned right into the Street of Guilds. Winterburne estimated that it was around three hours past midday, and many of the early risers living in this part of town were beginning to return home after their work around the city. Many looked tired and weary, and he guessed that the market would be starting to thin out too as the afternoon ticked away. Many of the traders would have sold all of their goods and would be packing up. The fishermen that he liked to watch in the harbour would soon be returning from a day out at sea, but they would still have more work left to do, unloading their catch and getting it up to the market for the late stalls to stock up.
Winterburne knew that their own work was only just beginning. 'I hope you don't have anything planned for this evening?'
Cromwell shot him a look. 'Not by the sounds of it, Sir.'
'There’s a lot of work in there,' Winterburne said, pointing up ahead to the Assassin’s Guild House. It was now visible as they walked on, imposing and grand in contrast to the other buildings around it. 'We need to get as much of that book reviewed as we can before the Ball.' he smirked, 'We meaning you.'
'I sort of worked that out for myself,' Cromwell replied.
'If you find anything, let me know immediately. It's a long shot, but it's all we have to go on.'
'I understand.'
As they approached the Guild House, Winterburne felt sure that they were being watched. He glanced up at the windows on the first floor where he knew the Arch Chancellor's office to be. If there was anyone watching, it was not obvious, but it would not have surprised him if someone told him it that it was the case. He approached the front door and raised his hand but it opened just as the first knock struck home. They were met by the figure of the acolyte that he had met before, at the docks and also in his office.
'Good afternoon, Captain,' the acolyte said, opening the door wide for them. 'You are expected. Please, come this way.'
Winterburne followed the man into the house, with Cromwell tailing close behind. The acolyte took them up to the Arch Chancellors office, where he stopped outside the door and knocked twice. There was no time for a response before he opened the door and motioned for the two men to enter. Sitting behind the large oak desk was the Arch Chancellor. He stood as the men entered.
'What a pleasure it is to see you again so soon, Captain,' Lytton said. 'Please come in.' He waited for them to move further into the room. 'Do take a seat.' Once the door had been closed behind them he took his place in his chair again.
Winterburne remained standing as he addressed Lytton. 'You don’t seem surprised to see us, Arch Chancellor.'
'In truth,' he replied, 'I would have been more surprised, and may I say perhaps more than a little disappointed, had you not returned, Captain. Especially after our little chat the other day.' Lytton smiled and reached down to his right, opening the drawer of the desk. He pulled out the Register of Members and placed it in the centre of the desktop. 'I assume that this is the reason you have returned.' Lytton pushed the book towards Winterburne, the leather binding rubbing on the polished wood of the desk. 'For the sake of the record, Captain, I assume you would not object to showing me the letter of authority?'
Winterburne nodded and reached inside his jacket, pulling out the parchment which was folded down the centre. He handed it to Lytton, who took his time to unfold the paper. Lytton read the words and once he had finished, he folded the parchment back along the crease and handed it back.
'Quite in order, of course,' he said. 'I did not expect otherwise. I am sure you understand the importance of due process in these matters. It is not my intention to be obstructive, Captain, but you have to admit that there is a certain beauty in the dance, don't you think?'
'Not really, Arch Chancellor,' Winterburne said. 'I don't appreciate having my time wasted. Especially when lives have been lost and others may be at stake.'
Lytton nodded. 'As I've said before, Captain, this is all most unfortunate. Your point is well made but I do have this establishment's best interests at heart, I can assure you.
'All very civil, I'm sure, Arch Chancellor, but time is of the essence.' Winterburne could feel himself becoming inpatient with the man and in particular with the evasive tactics that he seemed to be employing to slow down the proceedings.
'Please, Captain.' Lytton pointed at the tome and then motioned for Winterburne to sit. 'The book itself has grown over the years, and members have come and gone, as you might expect. I am only sorry that I am not able to recall many of the names myself.'
Winterburne sat, feeling the soft leather of the chair against his back. Cromwell still standing behind him, watched on in silence. 'Likewise, I am sure you appreciate that we would expect to check the entries ourselves.' He looked at the Arch Chancellor’s face to glean any reaction, but there was none that he could see. 'I was hoping that it might be possible to make a start right away.'
'I had anticipated as much, Captain,' Lytton said, 'and I have taken the liberty of preparing a desk in my study for your use.' Lytton stood and walked around in front of the desk. 'Some refreshments will be along presently,' he added, looking at Cromwell. 'Chapman will be joining the Lieutenant shortly to help with the translation. I assume that it will be the Lieutenant who will be gracing us with his presence?' He glanced across at Cromwell, and then back to the Captain. 'You are of course already acquainted with Chapman, Captain.'
'But I was of the understanding that he is just an acolyte?'
Lytton laughed. 'Yes, Captain, that's correct. He is one of our brightest prospects. I have great hopes for him,' his smile broadened. 'One might even say that I would trust him with my life, as it were.'
Winterburne suspected that this comment was what passed for humour in these circles, but he ignored the remark, instead shaking Lytton’s hand. 'Yes, of course,' he said. 'Thank you for your co-operation, Arch Chancellor. It is most appreciated.' He turned to face Cromwell. 'Get as far as you can this evening, Milo, and then see how you go tomorrow.'
Cromwell nodded.
'Don't forget to keep me updated on your progress,' Winterburne said, before turning back to face the Arch Chancellor.
'If that is all, Captain,' Lytton said, 'then please let me show you out. I am sure the Lieutenant is most eager to get started.
oOo
The door closed with a click behind him and the bolts snapped back into place, sealing him out of the very place that might have provided him with an answer to this whole conundrum. Poor Cromwell, he thought, locked away in a den of murderers.Winterburne stepped out onto the street, taking in a deep breath of the late afternoon air. The smell of a thousand family meals filled his nostrils, and right on cue his stomach reminded him that he too had not eaten. He set off in the direction of the docks. The changeover of the Watch shifts would not long have taken place so it would be good for him to be seen around the city by his men. As well as that, he migh
t also be able to find something to eat around there.
The streets in the South Quarter were not as wide as the main thoroughfares in some of the other parts of the city and he found himself having to step to one side or the other every few seconds, weaving in and out to avoid walking into other people as he made his way along. It would be like this for another few hours as the city wound down and the evening closed in making way for the quiet of the night.
There would still be a man on the South Gate, he thought. He'd begin there before making his way around the docks and then back to the Watch House. He changed his direction to allow for the change in his plan and carried on past the timber framed houses, looking up past their second floor windows to the sky above. Thin clouds were just visible between the gaps in the roofs of the buildings high above.
Behind him, the high-pitched scream of a woman shattered the peace and he spun around to check on the reason for the alarm. A brown horse and its rider were charging down the narrow street, through the crowd, causing people to dive to either side of the road to get out of the way. The rider had his face and head covered, that much he could tell from this distance, and his clothes were dark; the browns and blacks making it difficult, no impossible, to distinguish any features. Winterburne looked up ahead, along the crowded street where the people were not yet aware of the danger coming their way.
'Stand clear!' he shouted, waving his arms. 'Clear the way!'
People looked up from their talking and walking and stared at him, then away to the horse and rider. Behind him, men, women and children threw themselves out of the way as the horse sped ever closer. Winterburne stood to one side, but the horseman pulled on the reins as it galloped, changing the horse's direction, aiming it directly at him.
He increased his speed, now running down the street, slowly at first, but increasing as the people moved to one side. It was obvious that at the current rate the horse was travelling, the rider would close on him before too much longer.
The pounding of the hooves falling on the earth were getting louder as the horse charged on. Winterburne gasped for air as he ran, surprised to find that he was not as fit as he had always thought he was. He looked around for an alley to duck into but the houses stood shoulder to shoulder and there was no succour for him. On he went, people moving out of the way when they saw him coming.
He took a glimpse over his shoulder; the horse was close now. The rider kicked into his mount again, and Winterburne ran faster in response. Just a few more seconds, he realised, and the horse would ride him down. He kept running, hoping that maybe some opportunity would open itself to him. If only there was somewhere to get out of the way, but up ahead there was nowhere, only forward.
A woman and small child stepped from one of the houses, out onto the street, unaware of the approaching danger. They were close. Winterburne shouted for them to move out of the way, but they paid no heed. The horse was only a dozen feet away from them all and he dived at the child, just as the horse reached him. He pushed her away as the horse and rider rode through the space where he had been running but a second before. He could feel the hot breath of the beast as it passed by his head, and he hit the ground hard.
Winterburne lay where he fell, the cold earth beneath his fingers, his mouth full of dirt and he lifted his head to spit it out. His heart pounded and his eyes fell upon the hoof print not six inches away from his head where he lay. The horse rode on, the pounding of the hooves receding, and the rider looked back at him through the slit in the mask that covered his face.
The child lay on the floor next to him. She was quiet, but it seemed she suffered from shock more so than any physical injury. Winterburne stood and picked the girl
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