A while later, Uzo returned at last. His jaw was set in a firm line as he quietly entered their room. His clothing was mussed. When he stopped before Loren, he gave her a quick salute.
“I have returned, Nightblade.”
“No need for formality,” said Loren. “Do we have what we need?”
“We do,” said Uzo. “Kanja waits downstairs, there to lead us to Wyle.”
From the other corner of the room, Shiun looked at him with a carefully neutral expression. “And did Kanja get what she needed?”
Annis nearly died from trying to restrain her giggling, and Loren hid a smile. Gem looked morose. But Uzo only glared at Shiun. “Even when it points in a less desirable direction, my spear is still strong.”
Loren leaped to her feet and clapped him on the shoulder. “And that is all we need to hear about that, I think. Thank you again, Uzo. Now let us go and fetch the moon-eyed smith while she is still amenable.”
They left Chet in the room again and went downstairs, where they found Kanja waiting for them. A beatific smile played across the smith’s face. She draped an arm across Uzo’s shoulders and kissed his cheek before nodding warmly to the others.
“Greetings, all. Let us do our business. It is a fine evening for it.”
“Fine indeed,” said Loren. “We are ever grateful for your willingness to make an introduction.”
“Oh, I am more than willing,” said Kanja, stroking Uzo’s hair. “And please accept my earnest wish for many more favorable dealings in the future.”
Several of the common room’s patrons looked at Kanja and rolled their eyes. From the way they muttered into their drinks, Loren doubted this was the first time they had seen the smith conducting such business. Uzo gave Loren a weary look. She hid a smile and gestured Kanja out the door.
The streets were lit with strange lanterns like Loren had never seen before. Their sides were made with parchment, not glass, and they were open at the top and bottom, with a small cover a finger or two above the top to keep their flames from falling prey to wind or snow. The paper gave them a warm, soft glow, less harsh than a regular lantern, and it bathed all the streets and walls of the city as they made their way along.
There were few dancers or other street performers here, the way there had been on the Seat or in Dahab. But as the sky above grew darker, some people climbed to rooftop balconies built into many of the houses and shops. There they would stand, leaning on a railing, and sing. The words were in no tongue Loren recognized, and the tune was unfamiliar, though it sounded old. Then she noticed that the words and the tunes blended together from one singer to the next, with just enough difference to tell they were somewhat different songs. It created an odd sensation as they walked, for the same song seemed to shift and meld into different forms of itself the farther they went.
Most of the party looked up at the singers as they went, mouths hanging open slightly in awe. But Kanja walked as if she did not even notice them, and Loren supposed that might be true, since she likely heard them often enough. But Shiun tilted her head back, a pleasant smile tugging at her lips. It was the look of one meeting a friend they had not seen in a long time.
“Why do they sing?” said Gem. His voice was hushed with reverence.
“It is a farewell to winter,” said Shiun softly. “The calendar of Underrealm says that spring has come already, of course, but tradition dictates that they sing it on this night. That custom was built on the fading of the snows, and not the marks of some scholars upon a piece of paper.”
“What luck that we should be here,” said Annis. “To think that they only sing like this once a year.”
Kanja and Shiun gave a quick snort of laughter together. “That is not the case,” said Kanja. “Soon they will sing the song to greet spring. Then they will sing another song to mark spring’s peak, and then another to say farewell to spring, and then another to greet summer, and so on. If you spend any length of time in the great Dorsean cities, you will likely grow sick of all the singing.”
“I do not see how I could,” said Loren. “I hope I get to hear it again, and often.”
They reached the point where the two rivers became one and spun away westward. Each current was spanned by a great bridge. In the center of the confluence was a massive pedestal built of unyielding stone, upon which were hung many lanterns. From what Loren could see, it was crafted out of a rock that had been in the water already. Atop the pedestal was a great statue of bronze, mayhap six paces tall. She was a woman, that much was certain, clad in armor and with her long flowing hair splayed out in the wind. On her shield was a device of the sun.
“Renna Sunmane,” said Annis with reverence. “She resided here in Bertram during the Kinslayer War.”
“She did,” said Kanja. “But that statue was built a long, long while after those times. Now they say she stands guard over the riverboats that wind along the waterways. I myself think she is a great nuisance that too many ships crash into. But who would waste the effort to remove such a large rock from the river, especially when many of the simpler folk nearly worship her?”
Annis scowled at the smith’s back.
They crossed to Bertram’s eastern district, built on the wedge of land between the two smaller rivers. Shortly after that, Kanja stopped in front of a large building. It looked like a simple shop, but its front door was locked and barred shut. Kanja began to lead them around to the back of the building, but Loren stopped her, turning to Uzo and Shiun.
“Wait here,” she said. “I will take Annis and Gem inside. Only come after us if you hear trouble.”
Shiun nodded, and she and Uzo took position to either side of the alley beside the building. Kanja gave Uzo a little wave as she left. He returned it with a sickly smile.
They followed her around the back of the building, where a small door led to an apartment built in the building’s rear. She knocked, and soon they heard a voice on the other side of the door.
“Who is that?”
Kanja smiled at Loren and winked. “It is Kanja, you rascal.”
“I can see that, my dear. I am asking about the others with you.”
Loren looked closer at the door. She could not see a peephole. How could Wyle see them?
“I have brought some new friends who wish to meet you. For business.”
“Normally, new friends are my favorite people. But recent events have soured me on company. Mayhap another time.”
Kanja drew back, looking nervously over her shoulder at Loren’s party. “But Wyle … I vouch for them.”
“And I trust you implicitly, my dear. Yet I do not trust them.”
The smith pulled nervously at her collar. Loren licked her lips and stepped forth. “Trust is not always necessary for business,” she said. “Especially when such business may fill your pockets for many months to come.”
A long silence stretched from behind the door. “That is a mighty promise. You do not know how deep my pockets are.”
“Yet I know what I have brought to fill them.”
Another long silence. When Wyle spoke again, Loren thought she could hear some amusement in his tone. “Never let it be said that I do not respect confidence—even when that confidence borders on arrogance. Come in, then, I suppose.”
They heard a bar sliding. Kanja breathed a sigh of relief and reached out to open the door. No one stood inside. Loren saw only a steep staircase leading up to the second floor.
“Where is he?” said Loren.
“Upstairs,” said Kanja. “Come.”
She led them up the stairs. The second floor was entirely separate from the first, and a half-wall divided part of the back of the room from the front. The place looked as if it had once been well furnished. The chairs and cabinetry were of fine craftsmanship, fine rugs were on the floor, and Loren spotted dishes with gold and silver inlay. But the apartment looked as though a disaster had struck it. There were bits of splintered wood on the floor, as though some furniture had been destroyed in a fi
ght and no one had yet tidied up. There were stains on some of the rugs, and while they might be wine, Loren suspected blood.
In a blue, winged armchair sat a dark man with sharp eyes. He wore a black vest over a long, cream-colored tunic, and dark blue pants that went into high leather boots. His appearance was immaculate, utterly at odds with the state of his dwelling. In his hand was a glass goblet full of wine, which he set down as he rose from the chair to greet them. Loren thought to herself that that was entirely unnecessary, since he must have been standing when they arrived, and had only sat so that he could stand up again. His eyes roved across Loren’s little group, studying each one of them with interest. His gaze lingered long on Annis, and he blinked more than once at Loren’s striking green eyes.
“Greetings to all, and a good evening to you,” he said, bowing low. “As Kanja has no doubt told you, I am known as Wyle—or, likely, you knew that already, for I heard that you have been searching for me. But I do not think I know you, or have heard of you, and you are a bit younger than the friends I am used to meeting.” His eyes flicked to Loren again as he said it.
“But … but Wyle!” cried Kanja. “What on earth has happened here?” She gawked at the destruction all around them.
“Nothing you should worry your muscular self about,” said Wyle. “It is a small situation with which I have only recently dealt. I shall have the place in order by tomorrow.”
Kanja still looked upset. But Loren cared little for whatever trouble Wyle had had, as long as it had passed. She stepped forwards to speak before Kanja could ask further questions.
“We are friends and travelers passing through, and our age does not diminish the quality of our goods. We have some items that we wish to sell to you, if you are interested. They are of the finest quality, and nothing we would want to sell where certain … red-clad friends might catch wind of it.”
Wyle’s eyes widened, and the corners of his lips turned down in thought. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Naturally. Well, if we are to do business, then I should don my business garments. A moment, if you would.”
He retreated to the back section of the room, where the half-wall hid him from view. Loren and Annis gave each other an odd look. Gem looked at Kanja and frowned. “Business garments?”
“Some finery of his, no doubt.” Kanja gave a little smile. “I have seen him in many fine clothes, as well as none at all.”
From his expression, Loren thought Gem might be sick.
Then they heard the crash of a window from the back of the room.
“Dark below,” growled Loren.
She ran around the half-wall. A window in the front of the building had been broken, and Wyle was nowhere to be seen.
“Gem, down the stairs!” she cried. “I will go after him.”
Loren ran to the window. Wyle was already halfway to the ground. There were tiles and bricks set in the wall. Loren had thought them a decoration, but now she saw they formed a sort of ladder leading down. An escape route, in case Wyle found himself cornered. Loren admired the precaution.
She leaped out the window and took the same route down. Wyle jumped the last two paces to the ground. He landed in a crouch and came up running.
But he had not predicted the Mystics. Uzo leaped out of the alley, hands grasping. Wyle seized the spearman’s arm and flipped him around, then kicked his legs out from under him. Uzo landed hard on his back. But Shiun appeared, driving a fist into Wyle’s stomach. He fell to the street, wheezing.
Loren reached the ground a moment later, and Gem appeared just after. Loren helped Uzo to his feet. He had hit the back of his head when he landed, and he rubbed it ruefully while glaring at the smuggler. Loren tossed her head towards the back of the building.
“Bring him back to his hideout,” she said. “This is not a conversation for the open air.”
They took him back to the door leading to the staircase, but Loren commanded Shiun and Uzo to wait again. “One of you remain here, and one at the front of the building. I will not let him try the same trick twice, but be ready just in case.”
In truth, she had no wish for the Mystics to learn of her magestones. Uzo and Shiun nodded and went to do as they were bid. Loren put a hand on Wyle’s shoulder. He tried to shake her off, but before he could react she pulled one hand up behind his shoulder blades and shoved him up the stairs.
“Be still. You will not escape me a second time, but I have no wish to hurt you.”
“You are hurting me now,” said Wyle. But to her surprise, his tone was affable. He stopped resisting and walked up the stairs without further trouble. Once they had entered the apartment again, Loren released him with a shove.
Kanja still stood where she had been, eyes wide and head swinging back and forth. “I do not understand. What is wrong?”
“A sudden change of heart has come over me,” said Wyle. “I decided—rather abruptly, it is true—that I would rather not do business with these new friends.”
“But why?” said Kanja, blinking.
Wyle sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Kanja, you are a lovely woman—if too trusting—and a more than passable lover. But you are a terrible judge of people. Your new friends are the King’s law.”
Kanja gasped and took a step back. Her eyes grew panicked, and she seemed as if she might run.
“He speaks the truth,” said Loren. “But you need not fear.”
“Not her, mayhap,” said Wyle. He shook his head with a sigh. “But I hold no illusions for myself. What a tragedy. I am too pretty and too clever to die under the knives of Mystics. And just after ridding myself of another gaggle of troublemakers.”
Gem gave a loud snort. Loren shot him a glare.
“You have no reason to fear us, Wyle, nor was that little display of yours necessary,” said Loren. “We are not here to kill you, nor to put you to the question. But I think I would prefer the rest of our conversation to be conducted in private. If you do not mind?”
She tossed her head towards Kanja. Wyle stared at her for a moment, and then a slow smile crept across his lips. He went to Kanja and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Whether she tells the truth or no, neither of us gains anything by your being here, my sweet,” he said. “Go, and take care of yourself. I will see you soon, if I can.”
Kanja gave Loren one last uneasy look, but she nodded. Then she pulled in Wyle and kissed him deep and long. Loren and Annis studiously averted their gazes, and Gem openly made a gagging noise. But the moment passed, and then Kanja left through the apartment’s back entrance.
Loren waved a hand at the staircase. “That one hardly did much to guard your presence here. Whatever made you entrust her with the secret?”
Wyle shrugged. “Kanja is a fine woman, as I said. And when someone comes to Bertram looking for those who deal beyond the King’s law, they never look twice at a steelsmith. I wonder, in fact, how you found her.”
“How painful it must be to wonder,” said Loren.
To her amusement, Wyle very nearly pouted. “Painful indeed.” The pout turned into the same curious smile she had seen earlier. “But now we have wasted enough time on … shall we call them pleasantries? I wish to hear the real reason you sought me. Servants of the King’s law, seeking to deal with a man like me? I begin to think you may be even better friends than I first thought.”
“We may be,” said Loren. “It has come to my knowledge that you deal in certain goods of inestimable price. And because of that, we know that you know a great deal about the family Yerrin.”
Wyle’s amused look fell away at once. He folded his arms over his chest. “I feel my mind changing again. On second thought—or rather, third, or is it fourth?—I think I would rather not have any dealings with you after all.”
“How unfortunate for you,” said Loren. “We have come to the point where your preferences matter very little to me.”
The smuggler’s eyes narrowed. “How did you come to be here, anyway? You seem to know a ver
y great deal about me, but I only know that you are the Nightblade.”
That took Loren aback. “You know who I am?”
Wyle shrugged. “Rumors are one of the most—no, the most important tool of my trade. Many people whisper about the green-eyed girl in the black cloak.” He pointed at her face, and then her body. “Green eyes. Black cloak. And servant of the King’s law.”
“You know more about me than you make it sound,” said Loren.
“Just because I hear rumors, does not mean I rely overmuch on them,” said Wyle. “Many tales about you are obvious lies, like how you escaped a constable’s prison with a magic cloak. I wish to learn a truth or two instead.”
Loren well remembered Xain’s warning: Wyle had no love for the wizard, and would not be pleased to find out Loren was his friend. “It does not much matter how I heard of you,” she said.
“Come now. I am at your mercy. Who cares if I know how it came about?” Wyle began counting on his fingers. “Was it Torbrik who told you? He has never forgiven me for that mess with the Calentin ship. Or mayhap that girl Jessa. She has caused me more than a fair share of troubles, and all because of a little misunderstanding over hemlock. Ah, I have it. It was that idiot of idiots, Robb. If I hear one more word from him about that den of lovers—”
“Stop!” said Loren. “If it will cease your prattling, I will tell you. I learned of you from Xain, of the family Forredar.”
Wyle’s already annoyed expression turned to dismay. “Xain? Sky above. A trio of misfortunes has befallen me at once. A girl made out of rumors, sent by one of the worst investments I ever made, on some business concerning the Yerrins. No. That is three reasons for me to have nothing to do with … with whatever this is, and any of the reasons would be good enough on its own.”
Loren felt herself at somewhat of a loss. The man clearly wanted nothing to do with her, and whenever she tried to argue with him, he only talked circles around her. But in the moment’s silence, Annis stepped forwards.
“You need not have any dealings with the family Yerrin at all,” said Annis. “We only wish to know what they are up to. A small group of Yerrins have been crisscrossing their way across Dorsea. We need to find them. Surely you must know something.”
Yerrin: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 6) Page 7
