Moon's Artifice

by Tom Lloyd

  Captain Venten was silent a moment, her jaw clenched tight as she considered her position. A warrior’s position and honour also depended on the lord they served, their wishes and needs. Narin had no doubt that as tensions with House Eagle increased, instructions would have been issued to every warrior under the Dragon hegemony.

  ‘We will accompany you,’ she declared, stepping back to allow them to head to the shallow barges on the other side of the canal gate. ‘Lord Vanden’s instructions were to see you to safety. The manner of that is yours to choose.’

  A canal worker jumped forward to untie his craft, seeing they were in a rush and not foolish enough to negotiate a fee while under the watchful gaze of soldiers.

  ‘Captain, if I may,’ Enchei broke in, kneeling before her while the others got into the barge. ‘Our intention was to lose them in the Coldcliffs slum, but with an escort of soldiers we would be conspicuous and Law Master Sheven has instructed Investigator Narin to avoid any confrontation wherever possible.’

  Venten paused a moment longer before making a dismissive gesture. ‘Very well, if you are determined to flee like cowards our place is not beside you.’

  Narin bowed again to her, happy to take the insult if it meant he got his way. ‘That is my intention, Captain.’

  ‘Get out of my sight then,’ she snapped and turned her back, her soldiers following suit.

  ‘Thank you, Captain,’ Narin added as they pushed off, knowing he’d get no response.

  The water was near-still on the canal ahead of them and as they went Enchei grabbed a pair of poles from berthed barges, handing one to Irato. The bargeman, a whiskered man who only came up to Irato’s shoulder, just pushed all the harder on his own pole.

  They slipped away in silence, all of them watching the right-hand bank as the sleepy fringe of Dragon District glided briskly past. With awnings, doors and windows painted the colour of blood, dragon statues and gargoyles all roaring defiance and faint curls of mist in the streets between, it was a far from comforting sight. Only the speed of their combined efforts gave Narin any heart. They settled into a steady clip that their pursuers would be hard pushed to match through the narrow side-streets of Dragon, certainly without attracting attention, so Narin made himself consider the path ahead instead.

  More than a mile away, nestled between two tall outcrops of black granite, the ghostly white shape of Coldcliffs stood high against the lightening sky. Its slanted roofs rose to five peaks across the undulating building, the sharp rear slope streaked green and grey by lichen.

  ‘Are you sure about this ?’ he said quietly to Enchei.

  The older man nodded and pulled a key out from under his shirt. ‘You get ’em through and down the north steps. I arranged for a surprise for our goshe friends – in case they looked like they’d be coming after us hard on Dragon’s streets.’

  ‘Surprise ?’

  ‘While I was out yesterday,’ Enchei explained. ‘I’ve met a few o’ the bully-boys who’ve run Coldcliffs these past few years. Hard not to, when the price o’ room and board includes tossing out drunks. They were more than interested to hear some gang o’ hired knives were planning on making a move there this morning. Think they might have something to say about anyone flashing weapons on their alleys today.’

  Narin grimaced as he pictured the local toughs ambushing skilled killers, but there was little he could do about it now. Coldcliffs was a tangled mess of squalor and crime that the Lawbringers had never managed to tame and the thieves and murderers Enchei had duped were far from vulnerable innocents. Right now that chaotic, unmapped interior of shacks interspersed with stone towers rising up to the ceiling seemed like sanctuary to Narin.

  Trying to navigate the place was difficult enough – to pursue someone across it without being ambushed or becoming lost for an hour, nearly impossible. And close to the northern set of oversized steps cut into the bedrock ? Enchei’s home, a place the goshe knew nothing about.

  ‘Someone get me a drink,’ Synter muttered, hauling her boots off and sinking back into the chair she’d dragged out of the eatery. ‘Something strong.’

  Her second, Uttir, grunted and heaved himself up again. The man smacked his lips at the thought, stirred into movement by the idea despite his fatigue.

  ‘Getting some sleep, me,’ Uster said with a shake of the head, tugging the ties in his long grey hair free. ‘’Less you want me on first watch ?’

  Synter waved him away and the man offered her a half-joking salute as he headed inside. The rest of her team, one short now Kodeh had taken Irato’s command, followed him at a twitch of her fingers. She fumbled briefly at the straps across her chest to loosen her armour and unhitched it with the weapons still attached, struggling out of the tangle as Uttir returned with a bottle and two glass tumblers.

  ‘This’ll do,’ Uttir muttered, depositing them on the table before dragging his coat off and sitting opposite Synter. Like Uster, he was from House Iron and had a wild mane of dark grey hair as they all seemed to, old and young alike. While Synter poured them each a generous measure of what smelled like whisky, he fumbled at his tobacco pouch to fill his pipe.

  ‘Straight from the old country,’ Uttir commented, raising the pipe, ‘and the best you’ll find within a hundred miles.’

  He glanced around to check they were alone then ignited the tobacco with a crackling burst of fire from his fingertips. Synter snorted at the childish display and the man shrugged. He was the youngest of the team ; still new to the Blessings of the Elders and revelling in his abilities. Synter remembered she’d done exactly the same.

  ‘Am I going to have a problem with the others ?’ Uttir asked, keen to move the conversation on. ‘They can’t be happy, Uster especially.’

  ‘They’re fine.’

  Uttir thought for a moment. He was a handsome young man, tall and muscular with an easy smile and beguiling grey eyes. That had almost been enough to stop her promoting him to her team – complications like that were the last thing she needed when hers was supposed to be the best of all the Detenii. But then she’d realised it would have been stupid to pass him over. Uttir was skilled and clever, and having the best at her side was all that mattered, now more than ever.

  ‘They’re not looking to be a second,’ he concluded. ‘They’re all waiting for their own team.’

  Synter inclined her head and took a big swallow of whisky. It was good stuff ; a smooth warmth sliding down her body like the welcome hands of a lover. ‘Price of having the best in my team, they won’t stay. Too good to keep.’

  ‘And me ?’

  She shrugged. ‘The Elders say you’re the best they’ve seen in a while. When the time comes, if you want your own team it’ll be yours. If you want to stay second, one day my place will open up.’

  ‘Assuming we’re not all dead by then.’

  She nodded and finished her drink, pouring them both another without even asking the man.

  ‘Assuming we’re not all dead,’ Synter echoed.

  She raised her glass to the brightening sky. Above the houses across the canal she could just about make out a constellation in the east, six stars darkened by the low dawn sun before it climbed and they became near-invisible. She paused a moment, trying to recall which God’s constellation it was : three above three, the upper ones following a slant.

  ‘Play us a tune, Lady Piper,’ she called softly, ‘give us a fitting fanfare to the coming day.’

  ‘Huh, long’s she does it quietly,’ Uttir added, glancing over his shoulder towards the constellation she addressed. ‘I need a few hours’ sleep before we go shift the artefact. Spreading plague and murder is tiring work.’ He drew on his pipe again and eased his feet up onto a nearby stool. ‘Aye, but tomorrow’s going to be quite a sight. Especially when Kodeh’s little secrets wake up.’

  ‘With luck, they’ll be out until evening,’ Synter corrected. ‘City’ll be in chaos by then if Father Jehq’s done his work right.’

  She stiffened, then lower
ed her head to the tangled pile of boots and armour at the foot of her chair. Carefully, she set her glass to one side.

  ‘Uttir,’ Synter said in a soft voice, ‘your crossbow to hand ?’

  The man frowned at her, puzzled. He shook his head and nodded toward the interior of the eatery. ‘Inside. Why ?’

  Synter picked up a boot and tugged it on. ‘Go fetch the others, now.’

  ‘What is it ?’ he asked as he rose to obey.

  ‘I’ve just seen an old friend,’ she muttered, glancing at her discarded glass of whisky as though it was making her hallucinate. ‘Bloody Irato – the man’s just gone past on a damn barge !’

  ‘You’re fucking—’ He turned to see a canal barge bearing four or five figures swiftly away.

  Without another word he darted inside, calling orders to the team in a hoarse whisper.

  Synter didn’t waste any more time. Once her other boot was on she hauled her armour up over her head and tugged the straps tight with a practised hand. Aware day was coming, she swept up her ragged grey coat to hide her weapons, leaving the forbidding black mask where it was, and started off down the towpath, her team clattering along behind.

  Did he see me ? Why would he come this way ? Has he gone mad to risk it ? She shook her head. I’ll get my answers when I cut them out of him.

  Chapter 17

  Some of my more craven colleagues fail to note the fact that the Gods were not always raised for the same reasons. The majority, it is true, were granted Godhood for finding enlightenment through perfection of their chosen calling. This remains an example to us all without pretending it was true for all. Our world is a dangerous place and our Gods first needed a power-base ; entirely sensible to my mind and that is a characteristic more could aspire to in this life.

  From A History by Ayel Sorote

  Narin watched the waves roll in off the Inner Sea, catching the first rays of sun to break the clouds. White spume rose up off the ancient, slime-coated barrier that protected the canal from the incoming tide, while pale slashes in the swell indicated the sandbars to the east so prized by the city’s fishermen.

  A shiver ran down his neck. The power of the wind and water surged towards them while the cliffs were a slanted shelf of black rock twenty yards above their heads.The canal barrier was low against the water, the incoming tide driving the level up so the barrier seemed only two feet high – a pitiful defence against such an expanse. Perched on the great jutting cliff was Coldcliffs but, from underneath, Narin could see only the very edge of the unnatural white stone structure. It pointed out toward the horizon like a ship’s prow, parting the incoming breeze as it struck the land.

  He looked around at his companions. Kesh seemed similarly affected by the sea and looming rock, while Enchei was more intent on watching for sight of their pursuers around the long curve of the canal. Irato and the bargeman both poled towards the harbour entrance with long, powerful strokes – the larger man still looking absent and detached from events while the smaller twitched and huffed with fear enough for both.

  There were slipways for canal barges to enter the walled harbour so goods could be taken directly up to cargo ships, but their destination was just ahead of them – a shelf at the base of a zigzagging stair cut into the rock itself that led up to the base of Coldcliffs. It was a steep climb and difficult to get goods up, so at this hour Narin guessed the only obstacle would be workers descending for a morning shift.

  ‘Take the barge on into the harbour,’ he said to the bargeman. ‘As far as you can. Might be it’ll look like we went for the Harbour Warrant – Kesh’s home ground.’

  The bargeman nodded, keeping his silence in the face of armed passengers and their pursuers.

  ‘Any of you know your way around Coldcliffs ?’ Enchei called from the back. He had his sling out again, having expended a stone just before they reached the cliffs as their pursuers appeared on the towpath.

  Narin shook his head, as did Kesh. ‘You’re not coming with us ?’

  ‘I was going to slow ’em down on the stair,’ the tattooist replied. ‘It’s a good spot to hold them off, but there’s no point if you’re going to get lost in the meantime.’

  ‘We take our chances together,’ Kesh declared, ‘we’ve come this far well enough.’

  ‘No,’ Narin said, almost surprising himself with the determination in his voice. ‘Best we buy some time here.’

  ‘You volunteering to be killed ?’ she asked sceptically.

  He shook his head. ‘No, but I’m not the one they’re after. We need to get you two to safety and Enchei knows the way – that leaves just me. Irato, give me your crossbow once we’re on dry land.’

  ‘You can’t stop them all,’ Enchei warned, ‘they’re too quick.’

  ‘I only need to make them hesitate – a shot or two to make them duck back down and think they’re being ambushed. They’ll stop and think for a few more seconds. That gives you some extra time. If they want to keep on chasing me, fine. I’ll head into the slum and hide, give me an hour then I’ll meet you all at Enchei’s rooms.’

  ‘You know the way ?’

  ‘Not through Coldcliffs, but I’ll find my way out. I can’t believe the locals would knife an Investigator, not for no reason and the Gods themselves know we’re not worth robbing.’

  ‘What if you’re taken ?’ Kesh asked.

  ‘Then I’ll hold out an hour,’ he said firmly. ‘Long enough for you to move elsewhere.’

  All eyes turned to Enchei. The older man looked unhappy with the plan, but he said nothing to refute what Narin had said. After another glance back he nodded grimly.

  ‘Don’t take any chances, you hear me ? And don’t be a hero. If I was them and I caught you, I’d have something on hand to dose you with. Last thing they’ll want is a yelling prisoner to carry away and knocking someone out’s difficult to get right. Get it slightly wrong and they die – get it right and they’re concussed and make bugger all sense anyways.’

  Kesh raised an eyebrow. ‘Sometimes your knowledge worries me, old man.’

  That prompted a grin from Enchei. ‘Aye, you’n me both. Point is, don’t get caught, but if you are, don’t think you’re gonna hold out for ever. You put up too much resistance, they’ll tear your mind out sure as a demon got its claws into you. Then there’s nothing left to rescue, hear me ?’

  Narin nodded. ‘No being a hero,’ he said with what he hoped was a wry smile. Not with a child I want to meet before I die, he added in the privacy of his own mind.

  Enchei pointed past Narin. ‘We’re here.’

  They disembarked and watched the bargeman waste no time in heading off into the harbour. Narin looked up at the giant’s stairway above them and was put in mind of a ziggurat’s tiers leading up the slope. Cut into the solid black rock, each step was almost a yard deep and slightly angled to let the rain or ocean spray run off.

  The outer side of the steps was a rough chest-high wall, enough to deflect the worst of the wind and hide them from anyone below as the stair doubled back on itself. Before they started up the first set Irato pulled his crossbow from behind his back and cocked the weapon, handing Narin three bolts from the pouch on his leg.

  ‘Climb with us,’ Enchei suggested, ‘pick your spot at the top – not so far to run alone that way.’

  They set off at a brisk pace up the first few flights and met no one at first, then a trickle of black-shirted, barefoot labourers started coming the other way for work on the docks. By the fourth flight, Narin felt himself properly start to tire, the shirt Enchei had given him weighing him down as he pushed up from one step to the next. Glancing over he saw Kesh labouring as well, keeping her head down and attention on the treacherous rock underfoot.

  Their footsteps echoed worryingly loud to Narin’s ear, but there was nothing he could do about it and just keeping his footing was enough of an effort as he started to tire. The only pause Enchei allowed was an occasional glance over the wall at the flights below. On the fifth, w
ith three more to go before they reached the top, the pace really began to drop away. Enchei checked over the edge again and growled a curse as he unwound his sling.

  ‘They’re following, pick up the pace.’ He pulled out one of his remaining stones and let the sling extend to its full length as he judged the angle he’d have to throw at. ‘Kesh, Narin – fast as you can, I’ll catch up.’

  Lungs aching, Narin didn’t respond other than to suck as much air in as he could before starting up the next set of steps. Irato hesitated, unsure whether to stay, but Enchei said nothing more as he hurled the pebble down as hard as he could. It struck stone with the crack of a pistol-shot and Narin flinched at the sound but didn’t look back, willing his feet to move faster as fatigue took hold.

  They passed another pair of labourers, warily rounding a corner in case they stumbled into a skirmish between House soldiers. Narin caught a glimpse of one, a young bearded man, whose eyes widened suddenly just as Narin reached them. A cold stab of fear entered his stomach and he slipped his fingers around the grip of his knife, but in the next moment Irato sprinted up the steps past them – ragged coat flapping in the strengthening breeze as he turned to face them.

  ‘They’re gaining.’

  ‘Not helping,’ Kesh gasped from beside him, ‘just move.’

  Narin grunted in agreement, pretty much all the effort he could spare, but Irato obeyed Kesh without a moment’s hesitation and turned to go on ahead.

  With two more to go, Enchei caught them up – breathing hard but far from the shaky-kneed exhaustion Narin was feeling. He accompanied them one more flight, then a cry of alarm from the next spurred him on ahead. As Kesh and Narin wheezed around the corner their hearts sank – two men blocking the path up, with one pointing a hatchet at Irato.

  ‘We’re being pursued,’ Enchei was explaining hurriedly, ‘men with knives after us.’

  The pair of thugs exchanged looks. Both were young and scarred locals ; one significantly bigger than his friend, but the smaller bore the greater number of gang tattoos on his bare arms. That one went to the wall to look down, a cleaver in his hand in case Irato tried anything. He had to stand on tip-toe to see properly over it, but when he did he jerked back as though stung.