The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2)

by Howell, Rob

  I laughed. “Apparently not. And it’s just as apparent you’re going to call me sheep’s dick whether I want you to or not.”

  He laughed and nodded, but his face suddenly clouded. “But I wonder why there are only four.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A larger group followed you from the amphitheater. At least nine. Maybe more. Where did they go?”

  “To the house with Gabrijela.”

  I started running back down the road toward the house. I heard a shriek from the fallen man behind me, but I did not look to see what Radovan was doing to him.

  The door to the house was wide open, and I charged up the stairs to find four bodies, two of them moaning, and another pair wrestling on the floor, but no evidence of Gabrijela.

  A crash and yell from deeper in the house launched me forward. Two bodies slowed my pace along the way, and it was only in the farthest room that I found her.

  She was defending herself feebly with a dagger against two men. Her haggard face and wild hair told epic tales of the past few minutes.

  I jumped forward, hoping to blindside one of the two, but both saw me advance. As they turned to me, I saw Gabrijela collapse to her knees out of the corner of my eye.

  No time to think, I continued my rush at the first man, batting at his blade with my left hand. Its brief bite barely intruded into my awareness, and I slammed the longer dagger into the cutpurse’s chest.

  In my haste, fear, and anger, my thrust was much harder than I needed or wanted. The dagger embedded itself firmly in the dying man’s body, and as he fell I could not hold onto it.

  This sort of thing had happened to me before. I reached for the knife that I kept in my boot, briefly struggling with the long Imperial tunic. Fortunately, my rush had knocked back the other thug, and I had time to get the blade and set myself.

  The cutpurse looked for an escape route, but when he found none he attacked me.

  I moved to deflect the attack and get inside his reach, but his assault was merely a feint to get me to move out of the way. I had obliged him enough, and I landed only a light slash along one arm as he ran away.

  A loud cry of despair and surprise, followed by the heavy thunk of wood striking a body, suggested Radovan had followed me.

  Again, I caught my breath. A sharp pain reminded me of the cut on my left hand. Fortunately, the cut was not deep, though it ran the length of my palm.

  By the time I had cut off a piece of the dead man’s tunic and sheathed my knife, Gabrijela had arrived to wrap the scrap around my hand.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “You look terrible.”

  She chuckled softly. “Sometimes magic is hard.”

  “What happened here?”

  “Just after you left, they crashed through the door. Gibroz had two men here to guard me. They defended me but couldn’t hold, and the others broke through into the house.”

  “You used your magic.”

  She nodded, fatigue muting every movement. “I convinced one he loved me, and he defended me.”

  “You did that to me.”

  She smiled weakly. “Not the same thing. I forced it on him. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to force you. I was only barely able to force him, and I threw everything I had into the spell.”

  “So you could only use that trick on one.” She nodded. “But that helped quite a bit, I’m sure.”

  “I suppose. I was too busy to really pay attention, but he probably didn’t warn his friends before sticking his dagger into them.”

  Suddenly she staggered into me, and I instinctively held her up.

  “I need to sit down.”

  I assisted her into a side room. As I was settling her into a chair, Radovan came to the door.

  “Is she hurt?”

  I shook my head. “Tired. Used her magic and now needs to rest.”

  He nodded. “The house is safe for now. The only people left alive that matter are us and one of Gibroz’s men.”

  “Is he healthy enough to send for Kapric and Zvono?”

  Radovan burst out laughing. Gabrijela even chuckled.

  “The queasies? You’re as foolish a sheep’s dick I’ve ever met.”

  “Then what do we do with the bodies?”

  “We sure as the dark earth don’t get any Imperial officials.”

  “Silly koryfoi.” Gabrijela chuckled.

  Radovan continued, “I’ll let Gibroz figure out what to do. I’ve sent his lad off to rustle up some help.”

  “Won’t someone else report this to Kapric? Someone from one of the houses here?”

  “In this neighborhood. Don’t be silly.” He laughed again. “Gibroz will do as he wants to.”

  I shrugged. Undoubtedly they knew best.

  “I’ve a present for you, Sevener.”

  “Yes, Radovan?”

  “Come with me.”

  I hesitated, but Gabrijela had already closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. I could do nothing for her so I followed Radovan. We now had three bodies to step over in the hallway.

  He went back to the main room and I recognized the cutpurse whose leg Radovan had broken in the street. He was sobbing in his pain, huddled in a corner.

  “You carried him over? Why?”

  “I drug him by an arm, actually. I thought even an idiotic sheep’s dick of a koryfoi might want to ask him some questions.”

  I felt stupid, but I nodded. I went over to the shuddering man.

  “Can you talk?” He looked up with no understanding in his eyes. “Can you talk?”

  He shook his head, and Radovan leaned over to ask, “Can you talk if I kick you in the leg?”

  His apparent horror at the prospect was almost comical, and he nodded quickly. “I can talk.”

  “Excellent, then I suggest you answer this fool’s questions.”

  He leaned back and I stepped forward.

  “Who do you work for?”

  He shook his head so I repeated the question.

  He started to shake his head again but Radovan leaned forward. “Kick him?”

  “Not yet.”

  The power of the threat was almost sickening. I could barely allow Radovan to make the threat, and I avidly hoped I would not have to make good on it. Especially if I had to watch the result.

  I repeated my question a third time, and he stammered a reply.

  “Dr…Dragan.”

  “And who is that?”

  “My cousin.”

  Radovan touched me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear, “He’s one of Gibroz’s minor thugs.”

  “Gibroz?”

  Radovan nodded, and I turned back the sobbing man.

  “You work for Dragan, who works for Gibroz?”

  “D…don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “Don’t know who Dragan works for. I just… I just…”

  We waited.

  “I just do what he says.”

  “And he told you to attack us?”

  A loud sob accompanied his nod.

  “You were supposed to kill me?” I asked.

  He forced another nod.

  “You were supposed to kill Gabrijela.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know Gabrijela.”

  “You were supposed to kill someone here in this house.”

  He shrugged again. “Dragan left us for you, that’s all I know.”

  “He’s lying. Can I have just one kick?”

  The main wailed, “No no no no!” and tried to curl up away from Radovan.

  “Are you lying to me?”

  He shook his head wildly.

  “Dragan told you to kill me and sent others to this house to kill whoever was here?”

  He nodded frantically. The sobbing man at my feet probably had told me what he knew, but that knowledge made no sense to me. Why would Gibroz’s men attack each other?

  Whatever the answer, there was nothing to be g
ained by terrorizing the man any farther.

  “Leave him be for now, Radovan.”

  He nodded and I looked around the room. Five dead men littered the floor. I sighed. I began to appreciate Ylli’s philosophy about messes.

  “Thanks again.”

  He nodded. “Sebastijan wouldn’t like me letting you get killed.”

  I chuckled. “He’s an interesting man.”

  “You’ve no idea, sheep’s dick.”

  “You say Dragan is one of Gibroz’s?”

  Radovan nodded.

  “Only works for Gibroz?”

  “As far as I know, but I don’t know him well.”

  “I’m working for Gibroz and Gabrijela, one of Gibroz’s main people, was the target here.”

  He looked at me for a long moment. “By the Aoidos of the Dead, you lead an interesting life. First Pal, now Gibroz?”

  “Next time Honker asks me for a favor, I’ll tell him no.”

  He laughed.

  “Radovan, who’s guarding them?”

  “Honker and his family?”

  I nodded.

  “Sebastijan’s other three men are staying at the Faerie.”

  “Anything happening there?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t seen anything. This is the most excitement I’ve had for weeks.”

  “Why aren’t you there?”

  “You. I know more now than I did, but clearly you and Sebastijan are working on something. With the other three, Ragnar, Zoe, and the Pathfinders and Lakewardens eating there constantly, I won’t make a difference. A sheep’s dick wandering around alone, on the other hand…”

  With a fervent nod I agreed. “I didn’t see anything until you hit me.”

  “They hid themselves well. I only saw them in the press of the crowd at the amphitheater.”

  “Wouldn’t the crowd have made it harder?”

  “They moved wrong. It’s hard to explain. I saw some, then looked for more, and made sure I was around when they did something.”

  “Fortunately for me.”

  “How did they know I would be there?”

  “No idea, ask him.”

  He shrugged at the cowering figure in the corner.

  “Good idea.”

  I strode over.

  “How did you know I would be at the amphitheater?”

  He looked up blankly.

  “Wha… What?”

  “How did you know I would be at the amphitheater?”

  “Uh… I dunno. Dragan just said be there at the solstice play.” His eyes widened in terror as Radovan strolled over and loomed. “Really! I don’t know! Oh, please…” He started weeping and choking in his panic.

  Radovan shrugged and led me away. “He doesn’t know.”

  “No, but I’d sure like to know how someone found me.”

  He nodded. “We’ll think on that, we will.”

  At that moment, we heard a wagon clatter up to the house in haste. Radovan and I turned and looked out the door. He had his cudgel raised, and I had plucked the knife out of my boot as I turned. After a moment, though, he touched my arm.

  “Gibroz’s men.”

  “So were the others,” I hissed.

  He grinned. “These are the right ones... I think.”

  A group of men and women hustled into the house, led by a harried-looking man with blood on his tunic. He nodded at us and rattled off commands. Quicker than I could have imagined, they carted off the bodies and cleaned the house. I retrieved Jovanka’s dagger from the chest of the one I had killed before they disposed of him.

  Radovan chuckled as he saw me cleaning it.

  “Jovanka let you play with her toys.”

  “I think she took pity on me, what with me only having my little boot dagger, aside from the spatha and the spear.”

  “She doesn’t feel right without at least three or four hidden somewhere in there.” He sighed lustily.

  “That must have been an interesting courtship.”

  “You’ve no idea, but she liked me enough to make sure not to take any fingers, toes, or other parts.”

  I laughed and he looked around. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be needed here much longer.”

  The bodies were gone. The sobbing man was now weeping in the back of the wagon with his dead companions. The blood had been mopped up. The door had been mostly restored, but now with an extra bar of heavy wood ready to bolster it after we had left.

  A number of the men and women were clearly making preparations to stay the night by rolling out pallets and bedding. I heard the wagon roll off down the street.

  I’ll check with Gabrijela, and then we’ll head back.”

  He nodded. Gabrijela was where I’d left her, dozing lightly. She heard me walk up and reached out to me. I took her hand.

  “Gibroz sent people. The house is cleaned. You’ve got a much larger guard here now.”

  “I’ll be safe here, then.”

  “Will you be alright in the morning?”

  “From the magic?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “A night’s sleep is all I need.”

  “Good.”

  “No need to change the plan, then?”

  “No, Edward, not at all.”

  “Then I shall see you at midday. We’ll find Ognyan then.”

  “Yes.”

  She squeezed my hand and smiled up at me. “Have a good night, Sevener.”

  “You too.”

  Radovan and I left, and Radovan took immediate precautions to prevent someone from following us. He led me through back streets, stopped and waited around corners, and intentionally backtracked throughout our way journey.

  “No one trailed us,” he said with satisfaction. “Now let’s go in quietly so as not to die by waking Jovanka.” With a grin he opened the door, and I was prepared to head directly to bed. Radovan forestalled me, looking at the cut on my hand. It had mostly stopped bleeding, so he washed it, put some herbal powder on it, and bandaged it. He then rummaged in the kitchen for two zelniks.

  We ate in silence and then went to bed.

  Chapter 33

  Midday, 1 Simmermoanne, 1712 MG

  The sun had a battle on her hands as summer began. Clouds had rolled in overnight and provided both the occasional smattering of rain and welcome respite from the sun’s normal merciless legions.

  I stood at a corner on the Trade Road, idly looking at the wares in the line of kiosks. The overall display was bewildering. Icons, jewelry, clothing, knives, and so much else, all clearly of cheap manufacture, all loudly haggled over by hard-bitten men and women who were only slightly less criminal than the ubiquitous pickpockets.

  I was somewhat gratified to see that many native Achridans were also enjoying the slightly cooler weather. I idly scratched my beard and wondered where Radovan was. I knew he was close, for he had told me he would be as we left his house. Somehow, the large man had a way of staying unseen.

  Knowing he was there comforted me after last night.

  I felt Gabrijela’s arrival before I saw her.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Edward.”

  She had the small satchel with the cotton samples over her shoulder. She handed it to me.

  “To the Plucked Owl?” I asked.

  She nodded as I put the bag across my shoulder. “Where is it?”

  “Ylli said it was in the Periferiea.”

  “That makes sense. Many people involved in trade live there. Some of the poorer factors and merchants, some sailors, caravaners, that sort of thing.”

  We started strolling north on the Trade Road with her arm in mine.

  “This way people will think we are lovers.”

  I certainly did not mind, but… “Won’t walking hand in hand ruin our image as factor and assistant?”

  She laughed. “We would not be the first pair of such to sleep together.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m mostly recovered. It’s very
difficult to force someone to completely switch their emotions.”

  “Could you sense anything about how they found us? I’m still wondering about that.”

  “Ermajea doesn’t work that way. I can tell what people feel, not what they’re thinking. Of course, sometimes what a person feels is so strong I know exactly what they’re thinking. But that’s fairly rare.”

  “I guessed that, but I was hoping. It just bothers me how quickly someone figured out I was back in Achrida.”

  “That is worrisome.”

  Our conversation had taken us through the Heartsquare. Soon, she pointed at a road that led towards the lake.

  “That street forms to the south boundary of the Periferiea.”

  We turned up that street. The Plucked Owl turned out to be on the lake side of the Periferiea, tucked in under a small ridge that thrust out towards the lake. Oddly, at least to me, it had no stables attached, though we passed two different stables near the tavern as we walked up to it.

  As our eyes adjusted to the gloom we found ourselves in a low-ceilinged tiny taproom with only three others lounging around. Five or six passages led out of the taproom. I realized most of those passages led not to overnight rooms or to kitchens, but to smaller communal areas. These tiny taprooms were strung along the front of the building, each only large enough for a small table and four chairs. The owner had divided the Plucked Owl into separate places where people could transact business with some semblance of privacy.

  Gabrijela and I looked at each other.

  “What do we do now?” I whispered.

  She whispered back. “Ask for Ognyan. Say your sponsors talked to Ylli, who suggested meeting him.”

  “Really?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  I shook my head with a rueful smile and walked up to the bar.

  The woman behind it sat casually on a tall, long chest that ran along the back wall. She was lush and sexual, not in the manner of a prostitute, but rather in the manner of a woman who simply enjoyed her body. Her black hair had been haphazardly pulled back and she wore the common long tunic with sandals. Bright dark eyes that had seen, and enjoyed, a great deal of Shijuren proudly stared at us.

  “May I help you, stranger?”

  “Yes, wine for both of us.”

  “Wine? What kind of wine?”

  I laughed at her acerbic tone.

  “Sorry, I’ve been spending too much time in places where wine implied not a choice, but a vinegary substance with harsh flavor and harsher hangovers.”