by Tom Lloyd
Kam found himself holding his breath until she spoke again, this time with a resonance that struck at his heart.
‘You are the sort of men who will risk all for your families, and in this I do not believe we are so different. I will do whatever I can to provide a diversion. And if by my own death I can offer one of you the chance to survive to see their children again, I will willingly do so.’
‘They say you’re a mage, that you’ve made pacts with daemons, ’ Boren whispered, causing Kam to jump at the sound.
The duchess shook her head, sadness in her face rather than the anger Kam would have expected. ‘I have no such power, and those mages in our service are now dead. I do have something that may provide the necessary distraction, but I cannot be certain how well it will work, so it may be that revealing my identity is all that I can offer. Do not trust that it will do any more than turn heads for a moment.’
Kam looked at Boren, whose anger had clearly faded to nothing now, and stood.
‘I’ll have to discuss this with the others. When your man finds us tomorrow, you will have your answer.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice sounding hollow. ‘Once I would have said you will be in my prayers forever, but I have none of those left. You are my final prayer - I cannot stomach any more begging of Gods who have obviously never cared for me - but perhaps the Lady will look kindly upon you and grant you luck, for one day at least.’
CHAPTER 6
Ashin Doranei thought hard about turning round in his seat and glaring at whoever was smoking that heavily spiced tobacco; it had been tickling the back of his throat for an hour or more and it was really starting to annoy him. After a few moments’ thought he decided against it - chances were he’d just fall off his stool if he tried anything so acrobatic.
Standing up first was an option, but if he had any money he wouldn’t have bet himself he’d be able to manage it.
Hah, don’t bet for money no more, he said to himself, got more fun stuff than that t’do. He flapped weakly at his pockets for a moment. Somewhere he had a couple of wyvern claws, winnings from the last bet he’d made with his comrades.
Bastards let me kill it first, that’s not agains’ the rules? There’re rules for us? There’re rules for men like me?
‘So where’s the love of my life then?’ said a woman from the other side of the bar.
Doranei wavered a moment before adjusting his head enough to look her in the face.
Bugger me . . . looks lot like a woman I shagged.
Doranei let his head sink down again and tightened his grip on his drink.
Prob’ly not a surprise. Janna does work here. Unless . . .
With painstaking slowness a thought struck him and with great difficultly Doranei turned his head again, this time to look down the length of the bar.
Shit. Must’ve forgotten to leave the Light Fingers. Why th’ hell would I sit in this dump so long?
Another tankard of beer slammed down on the bar top in front of him.
Ah. Doranei’s battered face skewed into a lopsided grin as he reached for the tankard. That’s why.
‘Still awake, there? Where’s your Brother then, m’lovely?’ The woman spoke slowly and precisely.
M’lovely. Gods I hated bein’ called that - that why I stopped shagging her? A fitful burst of activity took place in Doranei’s memory.
Or was it ’cos I said she smelled like a mule an’ she kicked my balls up into my guts? He nodded sagely and Janna snorted in irritation.
‘Still playin’ the mystery then? Fine, piss on you. Let’s see if you’re drunk enough for me to nick one of those posh cigars you’re smokin’ these days.’
Janna reached forward, a little hesitantly at first, until she was convinced Doranei wasn’t reacting at all, at which point she gave a toothy grin and slipped a practised hand inside his tunic to retrieve a silver cigar case. ‘Well ain’t that lovely,’ she said chattily. ‘It’s got a bee on it and everythin’—’ She stopped, the amusement suddenly falling from her face. ‘Gods, your boss give you this?’
Doranei stared down at the bar for a while, then tried to reach for his pocket. He got his hand in there on the second attempt.
Cigar case’s gone. Bugger. That supposed to happen here? Someone nickin’ from me in a Brotherhood pub? Bloody stupid, that.
Janna pulled out a cigar and set the case on the bar, lighting her plunder from a lamp and puffing hard until it was properly lit. Then she returned the case to Doranei’s pocket and set her elbows on the bar so her face was only a few inches from his.
‘Now then, m’lovely, where’s your boy Sebe? Next time you see ’im, tell ’im I’ve missed ’im and all ’is lovely scars. Gods, you should’ve ’eard me scream when I saw ’im bald as a fucking baby last week! Scary bloody baby, but never mind, I love ’im anyway. But I said to ’im, m’lovely, “I’ve got nothin’ to ’old onto”, I said, and you know ’ow much I like doin’ that!’ Janna gave a cackle that momentarily quietened the rest of the pub.
Janna. Girl’s got good punch on her, Doranei though dreamily, lifting his beer and drinking automatically. Poor Sebe, boy’s smitten. Mind you, good punch is somethin’ to respect, an’ that smile lights up th’ whole bloody room. She’ll be a terror once he gets the guts to marry her, but she’ll treat him right. Randy li’l fucker knows how to stay on her good side.
‘So what were the women in Scree like, eh?’ Janna continued in a conspiratorial voice, undeterred by the lack of response. ‘Lookers? Bet they’re an ugly lot, all black-haired Farlan bastard stock ain’t they?’
‘Women?’ said Doranei suddenly, as though only now waking from a dream.
‘Fuck me, it lives,’ Janna chuckled. ‘Now that’s an interesting thing, ’e don’t pay a blind bloody bit of notice until I bring up the subject of skirt!’
She reached out and patted his cheek. ‘Doranei, m’lovely, am I to think you’re finally past pining for me and ’ave got yourself a lady, or did you just meet a whore even better than me?’
Doranei took another swig of beer and let the words slowly settle into an order he could understand.
Women.
Pining.
Lady.
A vision of the three women he’d seen most often in Scree appeared in his mind: Haipar the shapeshifter, Legana, the Farlan assassin, and of course Princess Zhia Vukotic, vampire, and enemy of the Gods.
‘Bloody scary,’ he announced finally.
Janna laughed. ‘Fuck me, that ugly, eh?’
Doranei thought a little longer. Eventually he shook his head hard. ‘Not ugly, beautiful,’ he said once he’d regained his balance. He clutched the bar for support.
‘Why’s that scary, then, m’lovely?’
‘Too beautiful. Too dangerous. Too—’ His voice trailed off, his attention fixed upon the tankard before him.
‘Piss and daemons, you do ’ave it bad, don’t you? What’s ’er name, then?’
Doranei focused on Janna’s face. The same mess of tight brown curls, the same round face and beaming smile, a canine missing on the left side.
Janna’s lovely, why didn’t I stay with her? Sebe’s got more sense than me. He might be scared of Janna’s temper, but nothin’ more. What sort of fool falls in love with a woman who bloody terrifies him?
‘Secret.’
‘A secret? M’lovely, I’ve seen every bloody inch o’ you from more directions than I care t’remember; you’ve got nothin’ you need to ’ide from me.’
‘Can’t tell.’
Janna gave a snort of disappointment. ‘But she’s the reason you’re drinkin’ all alone? The reason you were ’ere last night too? Fuck me, m’lovely, thought you lot worked at night?’
‘Not th’only reason,’ Doranei muttered, a stubborn set to his jaw. Unbidden, his finger touched the small scar Zhia had left on his bottom lip, his only memento of her.
‘Not the only reason,’ she echoed, ‘aye well, I’ve ’eard stories about what ’appened the
re, so I can believe you.’ She took a long swig of his beer. ‘I’d be drinking brandy in your place if ’alf of what I ’eard went on there was true.’
‘All true.’ Doranei tugged the beer from her grip and drained it. ‘But we burned him. Can’t forget that. Long time comin’. I burned the bastard.’
‘Burned him?’ Janna whispered. ‘That’s a bit personal for you, ain’t it?’ She gave a soft gasp. ‘Blood in the Dark Place, was it ’oo I think it was? That scar-’anded bastard? You burned ’im?’
Doranei felt his face twitch at the suggestion, knowing only too well who she meant. The Light Fingers was a Brotherhood pub, a safe place for the agents of the king and the city criminals they were recruited from. Janna might be just a barmaid, but she was a sharp one, and she knew most of the Brotherhood. None outside the King’s Men knew the details, but it was impossible to hide the fact that Ilumene wasn’t one of them any longer.
Doranei’s face darkened and he shook his head slowly. ‘Not him, not yet. I—’
His sentence went unfinished as a hand thumped down on his shoulder. Janna gave a delighted cry and pushed her ample frame past Doranei’s face as she grabbed the newcomer and planted a fat kiss on his face.
Ah, smells like a mule. I remember.
‘There’s my beauty,’ Janna cried once she’d let Sebe up for air, ‘and there’s even a scrap of ’air on that ’ead too.’ She rubbed her hand over Sebe’s scalp, which sounded like sandpaper.
‘Whispering sweet nothings to my girl?’ said a voice in Doranei’s ear. He grabbed the bar for support and levered himself around. There was a face there, indistinct and wavering for some reason.
‘The fuck’re you?’ he muttered.
‘Bloody hell, not again. Janna, got anything to sober him up?’ said the blurred face. Doranei moved a little closer and it took on a little more detail. Looks like a bloody monkey. Hah, Sebe looks like a monkey too.
‘I could kick ’im in the balls if you like,’ Janna said with a smirk, ‘woke the little bastard up a treat last time.’
Someone gripped Doranei’s face and turned it to the light. He growled and pulled back, lifting his tankard to his lips and trying to blow the few remaining bubbles of froth to the other side.
‘So what do you reckon, boyo, a quick kicking from my girl to wake you up?’
‘So what’s ’is story, m’lovely?’ Janna asked before Doranei could work out he was being spoken to. ‘Why’s ’e moping about over some woman? That’s not like ’im, not one bit.’
‘Long story,’ Sebe said coolly, ‘and not one that’s going to be told here either. He said anything about her to you?’
‘Nah, jus’ it’s a secret.’
‘It is, so if he’s so drunk he starts to chatter, you put him out. He’ll thank you in the morning.’
Doranei raised his head. ‘Not drunk.’
Something smacked into the side of his head and the bar fall sideways just before the floor hit him. He tried to take another drink, but his beer had disappeared and its loss seemed to drain his will.
He groaned slowly, then his body went limp.
‘So why’d you do that?’ Janna said once she’d stopped laughing.
‘See the sparrow at the door?’
‘That lost puppy that followed you in? ’ard to miss, m’lovely.’
‘I brought him here to speak to Doranei. He’s been checking out the pubs down by the docks, asking for the Brotherhood.’
‘Tsatach’s burning arse! Simple, is ’e?’ Janna exclaimed.
‘Desperate, more like,’ Sebe countered with a shrug. ‘Anyway, thought I’d let boyo here decide what to do with him, but now I’ve seen him I don’t think he’s sober enough.’
He looked down as Doranei flailed around for a few moments before managing to sit up. It took another few seconds for him to realise he hadn’t gone blind; he was just staring at the wooden facing of the bar. With an enigmatic grin, the King’s Man reached up and clung onto the bar as he pulled himself approximately upright.
‘Who hit me?’ he murmured.
‘I did,’ Sebe said with a sigh. ‘Gods, Doranei, I’ve never seen you this bad before.’
‘Sebe.’ Doranei blinked a few times, his head wavering forward and back as he squinted at his friend. Eventually he gave a stupid grin. ‘Beer?’
‘Nah, got a sparrow for you to meet.’
‘Sparrow?’
Sebe pointed towards the door. Doranei blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes, then tried to take in the newcomer’s appearance. He looked like a nobleman, but one who’d spent too many recent nights in haystacks. There were fresh scars on his gaunt face; he looked like he was starving.
The man gave a start as Doranei lurched forward and growled, ‘The fuck’re you?’
‘I—My name is Ortof-Greyl,’ he said quickly, as if this information alone would protect him. ‘Harn Ortof-Greyl.’ He looked at Doranei expectantly.
‘Rings a bell.’
Ortof-Greyl waited for Doranei to say more but the King’s Man just swayed slightly and smacked his lips together, hoping Janna would take the hint.
‘I was . . . I am a member of the Knights of the Temples,’ the man went on after an uncomfortable moment of silence.
‘Not sure which, eh? Can see how that’d be a problem.’ Doranei gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder and struggled back onto his seat. He propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Want a beer?’
Sebe grinned and pulled over a pair of stools, indicating Ortof-Greyl should sit between the two Brothers. Reluctantly, the man did so.
‘Rank?’ Doranei growled.
‘Major,’ the man replied after a slight hesitation.
‘Ordained, then.’ It wasn’t a question, and they all knew the implications. ‘Where’s that brandy then, woman?’
‘It’ll be shoved up your arse if you don’t ask nicer than that, m’lovely,’ Janna replied sweetly.
Doranei dragged his eyes up from the bar, but her bright smile defeated whatever was passing for thought in his head. He turned to Sebe, waved a hand in Janna’s general direction and resumed his earlier position, supporting his head on his empty tankard.
With a sigh, Sebe secured a bottle and three thimble-like cups.
‘Ordained,’ Doranei repeated in a grim voice, staring over the bar. ‘Bugger.’
Beside him the major nodded, looking even paler than he had when he’d first entered the pub. ‘Some days it feels like fire in my veins. Not for much longer though,’ he added, ‘not after what I saw in that refugee camp.’ He knocked back his first cup of brandy before Doranei had even found his own.
‘Your Order won’t like that too much,’ Sebe said.
‘The Order is fractured and lost,’ Ortof-Greyl replied sadly. ‘General Gort is dead, General Chotech is dead. I heard a week ago that General Diolis was murdered in Aroth. My group is destroyed.’
‘Does the Knight-Cardinal know about your plotting against him? He clearing house?’ Sebe asked, leaning forward.
‘I believe so; someone must have informed on us. Whatever the truth, we are in no position to deliver an army of the Devoted to Lord Isak. We’ve failed in our duty.’
‘Join the fuckin’ club,’ Doranei growled. A sudden purpose seemed to take hold of him and he downed two shots of brandy before saying anything further.
A look at Sebe told Ortof-Greyl that he didn’t know what Doranei was referring to either.
‘Took a li’l trip after Scree,’ Doranei said while he waited for Janna to refill his cup. ‘Went to a monast’ry and talked to a bunch o’ priests.’
Sebe gave a gasp as he realised what Doranei was talking about. ‘Major, give us a moment please?’ he said urgently.
‘Fuck off, or I’ll gut you like a fish!’ Doranei added with a snarl, swinging wildly around towards the major and ending up just inches from his face.
Ortof-Greyl backed off quickly and retreated across the room. Janna gave Doranei a sharp clip around the head a
nd quickly poured a beer that she took over to Ortof-Greyl, earning a grateful look from Sebe.
‘So what’re we going to do with him then?’
Doranei shrugged. ‘Don’t owe ’im nothing. Send ’im home.’
‘As a spy? He’ll need some reassurance that we’re there to back him up - and what about the Knight-Cardinal clearing house? I don’t like it; we’re probably sending him straight to his death.’
‘Fuck ’im.’
Sebe sighed. ‘Gods, boy, what’s happened to you?’
‘Read their history,’ Doranei muttered.
‘And ?’
‘Bastards had too many secrets.’
‘Oh Gods.’
The Brotherhood had scattered in all directions after the fall of Scree, some pursuing enemy agents, some going after Azaer’s disciples. Doranei had caught up with the main part of the Farlan Army and, whilst securing an escort for his king, met the novice who had guided Abbot Doren to Scree. The young novice, Mayel, had eventually told him all about the island monastery dedicated to Vellern, God of Birds, and Jackdaw, the disciple of Azaer who’d pursued them to Scree.
‘The king suspected,’ Doranei said, to which Sebe nodded. ‘Looked back an’ thought we’d got the Skull too easy. Bastard minstrel could’ve taken it, but didn’t even try. Mayel told me the Skull weren’t the only magic thing they brought, there was a book too, with initials on the cover - a pair o’ Vs. I got the monks to show me their book o’ days. They said a Farlan knight brought the Skull, but they already had a guilty secret.’
‘A pair of Vs? Could still be coincidence.’
Doranei gave a snort and attacked the brandy again. ‘Could be. Bloody ain’t, though. Monastery’s old, but the monks weren’t the first there. They found ruins to Ilit, and a book o’ days with the journal - practically shat themselves when they translated it: in the middle of the night a man came an’ told Ilit’s monks to hide a book.’
‘Let me guess,’ Sebe said. ‘That’d be a man with eyes like sapphires?’ He reached for the brandy and swigged straight from the bottle.
