by Tom Lloyd
A sharp pain in his wrist brought him back to the present. He looked down and saw Xeliath had jabbed her thumbnail into the skin, leaving a red mark. ‘Stupid boy,’ the hazel-skinned white-eye growled before switching to Yeetatchen and spitting a dozen or so angry words.
Without pausing to think, Mihn translated for Isak. ‘You claim I have a problem with prophecy? You, a fulcrum of history, should know better than to speak so carelessly.’
Isak was stung by the admonishment in her voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment of silence. ‘All I meant was that such a thing would be too much to ask of any man, no matter how loyal.’
‘Too late,’ Xeliath replied, closing her eyes. ‘It is said.’
Isak looked at Mihn but the man just shook his head. ‘We all have our parts to play.’
‘What if I have to ask something monstrous?’ Isak asked in dismay. ‘You accept the burden too easily!’
‘I am proud to serve you, whatever you ask of me,’ Mihn replied with rare openness. While he had the colouring of a Farlan, his hair and eyes even darker brown than most in Tirah, Mihn lacked the sharp, pronounced features of the tribe; his were small and neat, every edge smoothed off, every expression minimal.
‘Is my part simply to ask things of others, then?’ Isak said softly.
Mihn blinked. ‘In that, I do not envy you. I am glad I merely serve.’
‘Mihn, you don’t even carry a proper weapon! You never wear armour, I’ve already asked too - ‘
He raised a hand to cut his lord off mid-sentence. ‘I will do what I must. You should too.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘For now, we should let Xeliath sleep.’
CHAPTER 5
In the lee of a tall warehouse in the southernmost district of Tirah, two men waited uneasily as midnight passed into the new day. They kept close to the building that bore a reputable clothier’s name and watched the small door at the other end of the warehouse. It led to a watchman’s room, that much was apparent, but as yet neither of them had any idea why a man with a Lomin accent had cornered the smaller of them three weeks before and arranged for them to be waiting here, at this time, on this night. A silver crescent each had been enough to make it clear the offer of a job was serious, but they suspected their next payment would require rather more than just their presence at a certain time and place.
They were dressed as common travelers, with only long knives at their hips despite the mystery and late hour. The Ghosts would be asking serious questions of people walking the streets armed for battle - there were so many noblemen, hurscals and liveried soldiers in Tirah for the new duke’s coronation that anyone without the protection of a title had to tread carefully.
‘I don’t like the look of this.’
The taller of the two looked at his comrade, sighed and reached into a pocket for his tobacco pouch. ‘Nothing not to like yet, Boren.’
‘You reckon?’ Boren’s sceptical look earned only a short laugh. The sound echoed back from the high brick walls surrounding them and instinctively Boren looked around to see if anyone was coming to investigate. Aside from their breath on the cold night air and Boren’s eyebrows twitching, all was still.
‘Now I don’t say this is the best situation to be in,’ the other man continued, ‘but you just remember one thing; we’ve done nothing wrong. We’ve got few enough enemies as it is, and none this far west. We’re not armed to start a fight, we’ve broken no law within fifty miles, and no thief announces hisself by smoking while he watches a building, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do while we wait.’
‘Still reckon we’re mad to be here without knowing a damn thing, Kam.’
‘Well, I like to think that’s why I’m in charge,’ Kam replied in a muffled voice as he lit his pipe. ‘Your friend told us to be here and that there’d be money in it for us - isn’t that enough? Unless there’s something you’ve not told me, you’re as hard up as I am, so a bit of mystery for a bit of cash don’t bother me.’
‘It bugs me.’
‘Lots of things bug you.’
Boren sniffed and scratched his straggly beard. ‘So you’re happy that some noble-born stranger tells me to meet him here at midnight? Hunter’s moon went down over’n hour ago and I don’t see the bugger. Looks suspicious to me.’
‘Everything looks suspicious to you,’ Kam said, ‘but we’ve covered ourselves and the others’ll be watching out too, so leave me to worry about this. If I was your noble friend I’d be doing a tour of the district, checking to see who’s come with us. That means making us wait, and since we need the job bad, let’s give him time.’
Boren’s only response was a mutter but Kam nodded at it all the same and took a long pull on his pipe. The shadow fell into silence once more and Kam resumed his drifting scrutiny of the dark buildings and alleys surrounding them. His ears were sharp; a lifetime of being a hunter in the forested suzerainty of Siul had given him instincts he trusted. They weren’t mercenaries - they didn’t lead that sort of life - but their home was close enough to the unsettled parts of the Great Forest that they learned how to fight at an early age. Such men were normally the mainstay of the Farlan Army, but Kam’s village and those close about were all too vulnerable from Elven predation to spare anyone. Army wages weren’t enough to tempt men into leaving their homes unprotected. He lifted his head suddenly; he’d heard footsteps.
‘Gentlemen, you look cold.’
They whirled around. Behind them, in what had been an empty alley when Kam had last looked, stood a man wearing a bearskin coat and thick gloves. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face. The clothes were indication enough that this was no night-watchman.
‘He the one?’ Kam asked, keeping his eyes on the newcomer. He could see the rapier at the man’s side and was very aware of his own lack of real weapons. Boren nodded in reply.
‘I’m the one, yes,’ the stranger replied, ‘and I have someone for you to meet.’ From his voice Kam realised the man was a good few years older than he, but he wasn’t taking any chances that he was so old that he’d not be quick with his rapier. A thin blade was of little use on the battlefield, but in an empty city street it had the reach and the speed to best most weapons. The man hadn’t offered his palms in traditional greeting, not even when Kam and Boren, after a hesitant pause, did so.
‘Where?’ Kam asked before the small insult had time to grow.
The man pointed towards the door they were watching and started off towards it. Instinctively, Boren sidestepped to let him pass and lead the way and he inclined his head, choosing to take it as courtesy rather than precaution. At the door he gave a quick double-rap with his knuckles before turning back and gesturing to Kam and Boren to approach. They did so warily, hands by their knife hilts, watching the surrounding streets. When they reached the door the man pushed it open and stepped inside, then held it open for the pair.
Kam peered inside. There was a lamp on the table in the centre of the room, illuminating a woman clad in a long cloak, her hood still raised, seated by a small black stove, and a few stacked boxes. The warmth from the stove made him ache to go straight in, but he was careful to take a second good look round the room first. When they did enter the man lost no time in closing the door behind them.
He gestured towards the boxes. ‘Sit.’
Kam froze at the change in the man’s voice; the polite veneer had fallen away; now he was unmistakeably a nobleman used to having his orders obeyed instantly.
And what’s changed? Just the woman - and a dog wants to perform well in front of its mistress. Interesting. He looked at his companion and they sank down onto the boxes as ordered. The nobleman stood at the door with his hand on his sword, and that told Kam what he needed to know. Dog’s on guard now, but who uses a nobleman as messenger boy? Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…
‘Jendel Kam and Litt Boren, my Lady.’
‘Gentlemen,’ the woman began, ‘please don’t be alarmed by the theatrics.’ Her face was in darkness, carefully
hidden from the lamp’s light.
‘Why not?’ Kam replied gruffly, ignoring the slight shift of feet from the door. He wrinkled his scarred nose; the lady’s scent mingled incongruously with stale sweat and old pipe smoke. ‘Don’t get me wrong; I don’t want trouble, but I don’t like it when I can’t see the face of the person I’m talking to, and that goes double when I don’t know why I’m sneaking around a strange city at night.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ she replied smoothly, but she made no move to reveal her identity. ‘You’re here because you were given money to be here, and because you were promised a job.’
‘That’s right enough, and so what I want to know is what sort of job this is,’ Kam said equably. ‘We’re not mercenaries, nor thieves or assassins, so why come to us?’
‘Because I do have a job for you, and it’s one only a fool would take.’
‘Calling us fools?’ Boren growled, until Kam put a calming hand on his friend’s shoulder.
‘So what sort of fool you looking for?’ Kam asked.
‘What use does anyone have for a fool?’
Kam resisted the urge to scowl himself. What he hated most about nobles was the way they kept their voices level, emotionless; those practised tones they used to hide whatever they were thinking. It made them sound infuriatingly arrogant, whether they intended that or not. ‘So what’re you looking for?’ he repeated.
‘Men with reason enough to act the fool,’ she said.
‘Enough of this, can you not just say it plain?’
The woman turned slightly towards the man at the door. Something passed between them, Kam had no idea what, but she slipped off her hood to reveal the face of a middle-aged woman with deep lines around her eyes. Her hair was cut short and her only concession to jewellery was a milky pearl pendant on a thick silver chain. Around her throat was tied a red ribbon of mourning.
‘I hope you’ll forgive me if I spend a little time gauging the sort of men I’m talking to before revealing all my secrets,’ she said quietly.
Kam blinked in surprise. Her voice was strained; in her reproach he detected the waver of someone so close to the end of their tether that not even years of upbringing could mask all emotion.
‘That’s fair,’ he replied quickly, ‘but we ain’t got the advantage here. I’m guessing you know our names and where we come from and - now I don’t mean to offend, just bein’ honest - compared to us you’re a powerful woman, so there’s an unspoken threat there in that alone.’
‘You think I’ve brought you here to threaten you?’
‘No, but it’s there all the same.’ Kam raised a placating hand. ‘I’m just stating how I see the Land; I’m poor and you’re not. If you have a job for me, there’s risk involved and you’re willing to pay for that, but you’re not looking to be refused.’
‘I hope my information about you would be more accurate than that,’ she said, keeping her proud nose raised for a few more moments before the effort defeated her and she seemed to sag in her seat. ‘I acknowledge what you say as the truth, though I didn’t want to go so far as describe it that way. You’re right, I cannot afford for you to refuse me, and I have associates willing to retaliate if anything should happen to me.’ Her tired eyes flicked up again. ‘But I hope it will not come to that, so let me lay my offer before you: twenty gold crowns for each of you and your men, in addition to an assurance that every village they are drawn from will receive increased protection for the foreseeable future.’
Kam didn’t trust himself to reply immediately. The fee was immense - no one in his village could hope to earn twenty gold crowns in a year - but it was her last statement that clinched it. Whatever his objections, they would all take the job. Protection for the village was something they couldn’t easily buy with gold, especially since there would be questions about how they obtained so much money.
‘Crowns are no use to us; commoners don’t get paid in gold, only thieves,’ Boren pointed out, voicing one of Kam’s concerns.
She smiled wryly; that was the least of the problems. ‘So let us say four hundred silver crescents then.’
Kam nodded. ‘That’ll do. But for that sort of money there’s a good chance we all die, and money don’t help my family if it’s taken off my corpse.’
‘I will send a man to replace one in your group, a vassal of mine. You can send your man back with whatever money you wish, and my associate here will deliver whatever’s left. But send any young men amongst you home; this is not a job for the young.’
Again Kam heard the emotion in her voice, and he suddenly realised her words struck to the heart of the matter. Oh Gods, could this be who I think it is?
‘Still don’t want to be a corpse, rich one or not,’ Kam said, Boren nodding sternly alongside him.
‘I understand that,’ the lady said, ‘and yet I expect many, if not all of you, to die before the job is over.’
‘What sort of offer is that?’ spluttered Boren, looking about to rise and walk out until Kam eased his bristle-haired friend back onto his box.
‘I think I understand,’ Kam said slowly, ‘but how can we trust you in this? There’s no reason for you to let any of us live, or for you to contact our villages ever again once we’re dead. If your friend delivers the money there’s a trail back to you, and that’s something you can’t afford.’
‘How can you trust me? You can’t, I suppose, but I think you know how you can believe I’ll keep to my word on this.’ She sighed. ‘You’ve guessed who I am, and that trail you spoke of hardly matters now.’
Ignoring Boren’s puzzled expression, Kam thought for a while, trying to piece everything together in his mind. He controlled the sudden surge of revulsion he felt in his heart.
‘With due apologies, folk aren’t saying good things about you;’ he pointed out. ‘Your word might yet be worth nothing.’
Not saying good things? the voice of his younger self screamed in his mind, you fucking bitch-whore traitor, you want to drag me down with you, have my name cursed alongside yours, maybe even send me to the Dark Place to see what welcome awaits you?
He said nothing more, but both his fists were clenched tight, as though desperately fighting the urge to pull his knife.
Poor I might be, traitor I’m damn well not… And yet…
And yet I’ve got a family and barely enough to feed them through the winter, and there are rumours of more Elven attacks when the summer comes. We barely survived last time; those army outriders almost caught us last winter. If it hadn’t been for Boren’s boy chasing after that fool dog we’d not have had any warning -
‘Well, I don’t know who you are,’ Boren said, breaking into Kam’s bitter memories of the previous winter. ‘How about you let me know so I can be in on this deal too?’
She raised her chin and said, ‘I am the Dowager Duchess of Lomin.’
Boren managed to cut off his hiss of surprise. Now he had to shut up. He and Kam had been friends their whole lives and Boren knew that he could trust Kam’s sense better than his own temper. He folded his arms over his chest and lowered his head, a sign Kam knew well meant Boren was aware he’d regret the next words that came out his mouth.
‘I’m guessing there’s only one thing that you’d want from us, but I don’t see how we’d break your son out of prison. There’s twenty of us, and I doubt the Lord Isak is giving your son many noble privileges. If he’s in the city gaol, there’s more than three times our number of regular guards, and if he’s in the palace cells then there’s an entire legion of Ghosts in the way.’ Kam leaned forward, his box creaking. ‘I’m sorry, my Lady, but I don’t see what you’re expecting of us.’
‘You are correct that my son is being kept in squalor at the palace,’ she said, ‘but his trial will either be a civil affair, in which case it will take place at the Temple of Law on Irienn Square, or if the Synod’s efforts to take over the trial prove successful, in a place yet to be designated - however, I do not believe that will happen. The man
I will send to you tomorrow will bring the architectural plans for the Temple of Law, which is where I am sure my son will be transferred for the trial.’
‘So Duke Certinse is out the palace, but that doesn’t help us. You could send us a full company of hurscals and we’d still be outnumbered by the Ghosts guarding him. So I ask again: what is it you want?’
Kam saw her lip waver briefly, and she fought to compose herself.
He’s her only child, and that’s the reason her promise means a damn; whatever they say about her can still be true; it doesn’t change the fact that she loves her only son more’n anything else in the Land.
‘What I want from you,’ she said in a carefully measured tone, ‘is whatever you can do to help. If there is a chance to break my son out, I will have men with horses waiting, and I will devote the remains of my fortune to helping you and your families. Whatever the outcome, my associate here will not be involved; he will return to Siul, where he will organise the troops to protect your villages. He will also pass on the promised payment.’
‘You can’t really believe there’s much chance of breaking your son out?’ Kam asked, and immediately regretted his words as the long-threatened tears finally spilled from the duchess’s eyes.
‘You have no need to remind me of that,’ she said after a moment, regaining her composure. ‘But you will permit me to hope against hope? It is all I have left now.’ She straightened up, but made no attempt to wipe the tears from her face. ‘There is another service you can do him, though.’
‘There is? ‘ Kam looked blank, until he remembered the only public execution he’d ever seen. ‘Oh, yes, I see what you mean.’
‘It is what I want,’ the duchess said in a stiff voice. ‘That white-eye filth intends to execute my son as a traitor. The trial will be a sham, for the conclusion is already set. I do not know what manner of execution Lord Isak intends, but I am certain there is no depravity beneath him. To speak plainly, as you desire, I say this: I will do what I can for your families, if you will do the same for mine. If all I can give to my son is his dignity in death, then I would be glad to deny Lord Isak this final cruelty after the sacking of our home, the destruction of our family name and the death of my brother, among many other crimes.
