“And just how many of the gentry have you bedded, Shaza?” Kasrei countered. “We keep tallies, but everyone has a different number.”
The man smiled sardonically. “As one whore to another, you should know we don’t kiss and tell.”
That earned him a kick.
Talitha ignored them. She saddled her sirrush and continued on toward Kilgal.
Sure enough, the other two came loping after her aboard their respective steeds. She wondered who had won their little word-sparring match. If this was how the entire journey would be, the next few days would be very long.
The hard rock in Talitha’s gut grew heavier and tighter with every step of the sirrush. The rising sun at their backs lit the way east, pointing toward Kilgal.
Chapter Four
Talitha had run through so many scenarios for when she actually arrived, there seemed little chance of surprises by the time Kilgal came into view.
It was less of a city or town and more of a loosely inhabited catacomb complex. They might have missed it if it weren’t for the bands of strays that marched silently toward the cliffs. Not until dusk when they were almost beneath it did they see the torches and cookfires.
Hacked directly into the limestone, the thieves’ haven yawned out over the Sandsea, defiant. Ensaaks and ensaadis for generations had tried to rout the den of criminals, but to no avail.
Something cracked beneath the foot of Talitha’s sirrush. She glanced down in time to see a bleached and splintered human femur. A faint scream came from ahead and a figure toppled down from one of the upper tiers. Talitha’s heart thudded a little faster.
Talitha spotted a naked backside leaning out over the edge to take a shit. Not far off, a man held up his kilt to piss down below, laughing. The whole side of the cliff was a privy, apparently. She wondered how that worked out when people were slobbering drunk. More likely, they relieved themselves where they were and left it.
Kilgal had loose ordinances, but no one to govern them. No crime lord ever kept power for long enough. It was all a matter of general rules agreed upon out of necessity.
There were places the complex widened out, so much so there were streets and avenues. Other places, closer to the top, the complexed tightened and cramped.
There were no outer walls, exposing the cliff face to the elements. A shear drop before the entrance to the city meant any attackers had to throw hundreds of warriors against it before they could even hope to overcome it. And even then—there would be no leader to overtake.
Kilgal was built like an infection—rooted into the mountain’s veins and impossible to cut out.
Talitha adjusted the sword at her belt, making sure it was visible. She covered everything else with her cloak.
Without her telling them, Shaza and Kasrei did the same. The pair exchanged another biting set of insults. It was a miracle neither had killed the other.
But she didn’t hear their jibes. Talitha hadn’t been able to focus on anything besides the thought of this city all day.
“Stay close and follow my lead.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing this past fortnight?”
“Shaza, watch Kasrei.”
“As you command.”
“Why does he—?”
Talitha spun around. “We are in no position to tear apart a thieves’ den. You will wait for my command and Shaza will see you do!”
Kasrei’s mouth snapped shut, but her nostrils flared. She was powerful enough to bring Kilgal crashing down off the cliff face. Unfortunately, Gilsazi might very well be inside.
As they approached the gate, no one took much notice of them. They had been traveling long enough that they blended with the rest of the filthy, travel worn newcomers. No one stopped them at the gates, probably because no one had the authority.
Gate was perhaps not the right word. A narrow set of steps led into the complex. It was perhaps just wide enough for two sirrushes abreast.
Talitha rode in first, every instinct telling her she was a fool and yet…there was a tugging in her chest. She could have sworn it was pulling her onward.
“I need him,” she heard herself whisper.
Their sirrushes reached a leveled place that seemed to serve as some manner of courtyard. Not since she had ridden upon a day-old battlefield had she encountered such an overwhelming reek of decay, excrement, and refuse.
Around them, other entrants to the city slunk away along various passages. Everyone seemed to know where they were headed. A pair of muscled women swaggered past, arm in arm with a wine sack slung between them, spears on their backs. Behind them came a cluster of scarred mercenaries missing teeth, right hands, and eyes attesting to a life of crime and punishment. Urchins darted here and there, lithe shadows with quick fingers, eager to snatch what they could.
Talitha swung down off her sirrush. “Take my mount, find a place to bed down. I’ll find you both in the morning.”
Shaza sputtered. “You cannot be serious!”
Talitha pulled the sword in oilcloth from her saddlebags and blinked at him.
“It’s not safe for—”
“Anyone,” Talitha snapped, the remains of a withered skeleton to her left. “This is something I need to do myself.”
“You can’t!” Kasrei cried.
Shaza shook his head. “If anything happened to you—”
“I’m glad you two finally found something to agree on.” Talitha handed her reins to Shaza. “If I’m not back by midday, come find my corpse.” She looked to Kasrei. “Keep your head and you’ll be unstoppable. Don’t do anything until midday.”
The magian nodded stiffly.
Talitha turned her back before either of them could change their minds. They were right—it would be safer for them to come with her. However, there were places in the city sirrushes couldn’t go. More importantly he would never help an ensaadi under these circumstances. But he might help her.
Pulling up her hood, she hid as much of herself as possible and plunged into the thick of the thieves’ den. Her dusty greaves and tanned knees were the only thing that showed as she walked. If no one looked too closely, she could be any random warrior in the dim light.
She picked the busiest avenue she saw and swerved down it. Avenue was also probably not the right word. A narrow cleft had been hacked into the stone with the fronts of buildings lining either side. Cheap incense and sativa smoke wafted out the narrow windows.
Talitha coughed and had to hold her breath as she walked by. Naked bodies twisted on the ground inside the houses, moaning with the windows open for all to see. Several rough sellswords stumbled to the door hooting, but a broad man with an eyepatch extracted copper coins from both before letting them inside.
Her fists clenched. What if she found him at one of the orgies?
Swallowing, Talitha decided she wouldn’t waste her time looking. If he was there, she’d rather not drag him off another woman while he was drunk on smoke and wine.
“Hello, love,” panted a sweaty man with a glaze over his eyes and the stench of wine on his breath. “I can help with what you’re looking for.” He clutched between his legs and shook the chunk of meat beneath his kilt.
“Not what I’m here for.” Talitha sidestepped, but the drunk followed her.
“Don’t worry,” he panted. “I’m bound. See?” He pointed to a brand on his wrist, a red scar vaguely in the shape of palm leaf. “My wife’s mark. You won’t fall with child from my seed. Unlike a whore, I’ll even do you for free.”
Talitha didn’t recall any city involved branding as part of their marriage rites.
The drunk reached for her and Talitha smacked the sword in oilcloth between his legs. The leather kept the blade from cutting flesh, but it hit with a dull thud and the drunk fell, howling.
A few stares leveled in her direction, but Talitha carried on. She was propositioned by two more men and one woman before she reached the opposite side of the brothels. One wanted an arrangement and the others wanted to
sell.
Though the brothels were guarded, many who had come to buy found willing partners outside and quickly began sharing flesh. It was the kind of place her grandfather taxed, Shaza’s father cursed—because these orgies weren’t done with the “proper” rituals—and Talitha avoided.
When she finally cleared the brothels, she entered a low passage with squatters crouched around fires. She spotted a motley representation of the cities she knew and several she didn’t. There were Iystians with their fire cult icons, Reskians scowling as Reskians did, and more than a few other groups she couldn’t place. The squatters sat together of all ages ranging from withered and ancient to a newborn babe in its mother’s arms.
No one heeded Talitha here. As she walked deeper into Kilgal with the open face of the cliffs to her left, it struck her how profoundly directionless she was.
She didn’t even know what she was looking for. Did she expect to find him just out and wandering? She caught herself searching the face of every man, not realizing she’d hoped it was him until her heart fell.
It might have been two or three hours, but Talitha roved the cave complexes with no direction. She guessed Shaza and Kasrei must be fine, seeing as how she had heard no explosions.
Finally, Talitha stopped to rest outside a circle of squatters around a fire. A young woman with glass beads in her hair sat strumming a harp, voice smooth as oil.
Leaning against the stone at her back, Talitha closed her eyes. Exhaustion wanted to take her under, to sleep, but it was too dangerous. She’d been nearly pickpocketed twice and who knew what might happen to a lone traveler found asleep.
Talitha rubbed her eyes as the minstrel started up a new melody. The girl’s voice rose soft and sweet through the first few verses.
What if he wasn’t even here anymore? The reports she had were a week old, at least. What if he was gone?
The minstrel’s song rose:
“…She knelt before him upon her ivory thighs
told him then to end her
and take his victor’s prize
but heart afire, he turned his ire
on his warlord, touched by the divine…”
Surely she hadn’t heard that right?
“…for an ensaak my give you waters
but an ensaadi’s kiss is wine.”
Talitha nearly leapt off the ground, excitement buzzing her awake. The ensaadi took a quick step toward the fire, but those gathered around flinched. A pockmarked matron drew a knife and a boy with a short scythe no more than ten leapt in front of her.
Talitha did her best to compose herself, looking past the boy. “Forgive me, but—that song. Where did you learn it?”
The girl puffed out her chest just a little. “I wrote it and what’s it to you?” When she wasn’t singing, the girl had a thick accent Talitha couldn’t quite place. This must be her second language.
Talitha licked her lips. “Where did you hear that story?”
“A sword hand. Wanted a song. Paid me in a story. Stories are how I get my water.” The girl gestured to the iron and copper coins thrown in the folds of her skirts.
Talitha tossed a coin into the pile. “Did he say where he heard it? What did he look like?”
The girl blinked at it for a moment, the shrugged. “Said it was a true story, happened to his very own lord. Short fellow. No ears, but listens well enough.”
Talitha didn’t remember any man without ears, but she wouldn’t remember every Dunedrifter. “Where is he now?” She tossed in a second iron coin.
The girl’s eyebrows rose and several of the vagabonds at her feet had begun to stare at Talitha. “Last saw him yesterday near the Grub’s Crib.”
“Grub’s Crib?”
“Lower level. Open air. Above the sirrush pens.”
Talitha threw a third coin for no particular reason and sprinted away. She’d sent Shaza and Kasrei to the sirrush pens, never thinking that was where she would find who she was looking for.
Talitha reached the upper levels above the sirrush pens, the warbling and braying of the animals carrying on below. There were several buildings that didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular. She watched newcomers push out current residents with a growl and a flash of steel.
No one would tell her if they had seen the man without ears or a band leader. Marching in a tight circle, she tried not to look lost.
Talitha grunted in frustration. She was so close. She’d never thought this day would come and now she couldn’t find him. He was in this city, she was sure of it. He was somewhere in this section, she was almost certain. All she had to do was find him, but that was like searching for a pebble in a rockslide.
She peered into each one of the houses she passed, doing her best to be inconspicuous. She probably looked like a thief, but that was nothing new here.
Warriors were everywhere in this section. Leather armor and rusted weapons lay in piles of varying disarray while their owners cleaned them. Laughter and angry shouts rose from every direction. According to someone she stopped, a whole caravan of sweet wine had come in that morning. The entire city was imbibing.
As she came to the ninth house, she spotted a man without ears. Missing the end of his nose as well, he was otherwise tall and lean and had probably been quite handsome before his mishap. Talitha swerved into the low doorway, met almost instantly by an ax across her path.
“Ho, there, friend. Not so fast.”
She followed the ax back to its wielder.
He blinked a moment, shook his head, blinked again, and swore. “It’s you!”
Talitha managed not to smile, but frantically searched the room. There were warriors slumped on threadbare carpets, sacks of wine in varying stages of consumption on the floor. Some of the men she recognized, but none of the others seemed to recognize her.
“You’re not welcome here,” Emalek growled. “Last time you showed up, you cost us two-months wages. Get out!”
Talitha spotted his profile from across the room. He had just turned his back, braced against the wall with a half-empty wine sack in hand. At least he wasn’t in the brothels.
“Ashek!” The name broke out of her in a shout. It had been more than a year since she had spoken that name or even let herself think it.
The Dunedrifter paused, but the revelry around him carried on, oblivious. “I know that voice,” he growled, tilting his head back. “But it can’t be her.” He exhaled, raking back his dark hair—it had grown longer since last year. “She’s not stupid enough to come to a city of thieves alone.” Stumbling, he turned around.
His eyes were bloodshot and the wine had gone to his head, probably hours ago. A loose tunic was partly unlaced over his chest, shining with sweat. Dirt and grime coated him in a filthy lather.
Yet Talitha was speechless. An invisible fist punched her in the gut and she stood there like a fool. For a moment, her lungs wouldn’t expand.
Ashek groaned, leaning against the wall. “Talitha.”
Several of the Dunedrifters had noticed their exchange and stared. Taking more sips of wine, men whispered loudly to one another, breaking into lewd laughter.
Talitha ignored them. “Ashek.” She stepped around the fuming Emalek and stopped a few steps from his leader. “I’ve…been looking for you.” Her hands tightened around the sword she’d kept for more than a year. What was she supposed to say? He might not even remember this conversation.
“You’ve found me.” Ashek smeared a hand over his face. “Come to run away with me?”
“No.” But I’ve wished it.
“Pity.” Ashek reached for her.
Talitha half-expected him to try kissing her, but instead he touched her shoulder, the one he had impaled in their duel.
“Does it still hurt you?”
“I was sore for months, but fine now. Your leg?”
Ashek snorted. “You got me good. Thought I’d lose it for the first few weeks. God…” He either laughed or growled, it was hard to tell. “Works well enough
now.” He gestured vaguely to his left shin.
“She’s that woman?” mumbled an inebriated mercenary on the ground.
“Shut up,” Ashek shot back. He returned his attention to Talitha. “You maimed me and cheated me out of a fortune. I still want to throw you down and make you moan.”
Talitha’s eyebrows shot up. Her pulse quickened and it was not entirely from outrage.
“Don’t say that!” Emalek rasped, eyes wide, almost in a squeak. “Not to the ensaadi of Ilios—no!”
“I’m not offended,” Talitha said without thinking. As soon as the words were out, she realized she should have been.
“That is so much worse.” Emalek shook his head.
Talitha cleared her throat, returning her attention to Ashek. “How drunk are you?”
“Drunk enough to be honest.” Ashek chuckled. He made to take a step forward and stumbled.
Instinctively, Talitha caught him, shoving him upright again. “I think you need to sleep this off,” she said, remembering the time he had seen her drunk. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
Ashek clumsily raked a hand through his hair. It was longer than it had been. “You’re not a dream, are you?” He touched her shoulder again, squeezing her as if she might melt beneath his fingers. “I’m not dreaming again?”
“No, she’s real,” Emalek interjected. His face had reddened, but he was upright and probably the most sober Dunedrifter in the room. “A nightmare made flesh.”
Ashek grinned at that. “My lady of nightmares.”
Talitha didn’t know what to make of it. “Emalek?”
The lieutenant was only too glad to shuffle Ashek in the direction of his pallet. “You can sleep here, ensaadi. If any of the men trouble you, feel free to stab them.”
“Yes, stab them all you want,” Ashek added. “It’ll tell me whose brains to bash out in the morning.”
The group of mercenaries laughed from the ground. How many of them knew that was exactly what he’d done to the last man who “troubled” her?
Dunedrifter Page 3
