The mercenary finally fell limp in his arms and Tol pushed the body away as he saw a reflection in the window. He spun on his heel and rose to his feet, dagger held out in front of him.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s you.’
Katarina’s manservant eyed the dagger for a moment, then glared at Tol as if pulling a blade on him was about the silliest thing a man could do. Stetch reached him in three strides, picking up one of the corpse’s arms and staring pointedly at Tol. Unsettling eyes, Tol thought. Katarina’s companion didn’t seem at all shocked to find a dead body in the alley. I’d wager he’s seen more than his fair share of death, and delivered more than a few to the gates of the Pit. Tol wiped his dagger on the corpse’s tunic, sheathed it, then grabbed the dead man’s other arm. Together they dragged the body to the wall and propped the dead man against it. His head fell forward so it looked like he might be sleeping. Stetch stepped back and took an appraising look at their handiwork, then reached down and adjusted the man’s coat a moment later. He leaned back and nodded in satisfaction. His gaze turned to Tol, eyes steady.
‘He was one of the ones from the inn,’ Tol explained to fill the gaping silence. Stetch just stared at him like he was stupid. ‘Another moment and he’d have seen Katarina,’ Tol added. ‘The others can’t be far away.’
Stetch grunted then turned and walked away.
You’re welcome, Tol thought, don’t mention it at all. He sighed, checked his tunic for blood, and then followed Stetch back out of the alley. When the mercenaries realised one of their number was missing they’d start searching town and once that happened, Tol figured, it was only a matter of time till they found him or someone talked. He had a vision of being woken up at swordpoint, powerless to escape and unable to defend himself. Time to leave, he decided. He followed Stetch back into the Maiden’s Watch, glancing briefly at Katarina’s pout-adorned face and offering a tight smile before making for the stairs. How long before the Band start looking for him? he wondered. A quarter-bell? A half-bell? The sooner he got out from behind Soltre’s walls, the safer he’d feel. On one of those rare occasions he had been paying attention in Father Michael’s class, Tol had learned a valuable lesson about walls: they worked both ways, keeping marauders out, but also keeping those behind the walls confined like cattle. On the whole, Tol decided he’d rather take his chances in the wild than scurry through shadowed streets like a rat. Besides, he thought, I’ve already escaped a fast-freeze. How much worse can it get?
17.
Maddy met him halfway between the bar and the stairs, her eyes drawn to the pack slung across his pack.
‘Company not to your liking?’ she asked mildly.
‘I bumped into one of Band outside,’ Tol said. Across the room he saw Katarina rise elegantly from her seat as a muffled stomp on the landing above announced the imminent return of her protector. ‘He won’t cause any trouble,’ Tol added as he saw the worry lines deepen on Maddy’s face, ‘but when he doesn’t return and his friends come looking for him I’d best not be around.’
‘Did you get supplies? Is there anything you need?’
Katarina was hovering a few feet away, her raptor glare focused on a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs, struggling with two packs fit to burst.
‘You have already been kinder than I had any right to expect,’ Tol said, sure that the Sudalrese woman was listening even while tutting under her breath. ‘Just… If they come, tell them the truth.’
Maddy snorted, but Tol held up a hand to forestall her. ‘Tell them you tended my wounds but were surprised when I left in a hurry. Tell them I mentioned going to Karnvost.’
‘They can probably guess that themselves.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, but I don’t want you getting on their wrong side. Tell them whatever you need so they leave you alone.’ He spared a quick, pointed glance at Katarina. ‘The truth, but not the whole Truth. Please?’
‘Fine,’ Maddy reluctantly agreed. ‘Take care of yourself, Tol.’ She gripped his upper arm tightly. ‘May angels guide you.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ he muttered, wincing as Maddy’s face fell. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he told her. ‘Before you know it I’ll be back here, drunk in a corner and harassing your barmaids.’ Tol grinned, but he could see Maddy didn’t believe the words any more than he did. The dull thumping of Stetch plodding down the stairs, one pack over his shoulder and the other being dragged loudly behind him, had reached a crescendo, terminating with a thud that startled Tol as the pack landed on the floor behind him. He saw the inn’s patrons watching as Stetch dutifully began dragging the offending baggage across the floor towards the exit, the scraping sounding like a fork dragged across a tin plate.
‘You’re leaving with them?’ Maddy asked.
‘It’s a long story,’ Tol said as Katarina began to admonish her servant loudly in a high-pitched warble, switching quickly from Norvek to Sudalrese and back as her vocabulary failed her. The whole inn watched her berate Stetch as the pair made their way to the door. Most looked on with sympathy.
Tol sighed as he saw Maddy’s raised eyebrow. ‘She’s not as tempestuous as she seems.’
‘Really?’
The door opened with a creak, and Katarina’s voice rose half an octave as Stetch dragged her pack out into the snow. ‘No,’ he sighed, ‘not really. Good-bye, Maddy, and thank you for everything.’
As the customers watched the exit of the Sudalrese pair, Maddy reached forward and gripped Tol warmly by the shoulders. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered, pecking him lightly on the cheek. He smiled one last time and headed towards the door, a last glance showing the inn’s customers already turning their gaze from the door after the departure of Katarina and her servant. He heard one or two choice opinions voiced as the patrons returned to their drinks, and realised that the pair had drawn all the attention to themselves and that few, if any, would remember Tol’s own departure. A coincidence? he wondered, or was that her intention?
He hurried out of the inn and stumbled straight into a windswept traveller on his way in.
‘Watch where you’re going, boy,’ Tol heard him call as he staggered inside, the door already swinging behind him.
‘Bugger off, old man,’ Tol shouted over his shoulder, any response lost as he heard the clunk of the door falling back into place. A beggar, maybe, but those eyes were as mad as any he had seen. Jumping at shadows, he told himself, hurrying over to Katarina. The Sudalrese woman had struggled into the straps of her pack, but it looked heavy enough Tol was surprised she hadn’t fallen backwards. She spared a piqued glance back at him, as if it was his fault the mercenary had seen her, then shuffled off after Stetch who, perhaps wisely, hadn’t stayed still long enough to receive a lecture. They followed the road north, back towards the very gates through which Tol had entered the town.
It feels like running away. They had turned north without discussion, and Tol knew that going through the main part of town to reach the southern gate was foolish, but it still felt wrong. He had been trained to fight, even before his tutelage at Icepeak had begun. Most days of his life had been journeys from one fight to the next, leaving little time for friendships or pleasure, although Tol had always been good at creating mischief and mayhem. He didn’t need to try, really, things just turned to chaos around him. Sometimes it was funny but, if he thought about it, mostly it was just trouble waiting to happen. Spending part of the monastery’s money in a tavern had seemed at the time like mischief, but had resulted, with a sad inevitability, in trouble. Well, the one time he had been caught. There were plenty of times when the monks had been none the wiser.
It was tempting to track down the inn the mercenaries were drinking dry and go charging in with his sword drawn. How many could I take? Tol wondered as they passed through the town’s gates. Not enough, that much he knew. Still, it had to be better than charging across the frozen north leaving a trail of bodies behind him. Just not Maddy, he pleaded. Not her. By Tol’s reckoning Maddy was about the third
person to show him any kindness; the abbot was dead, and the second was sulking at his side, and Tol wasn’t sure whether Katarina really counted, because he was fairly certain she had saved him to save herself.
They veered west as soon as they passed the gates, following the looping curve of the wall as it encircled the town like a lover. Gradually Stetch led them further away from the wall, the distant sounds of revelry quietening as they left the scrub behind and entered the forest that bordered Soltre. They kept the south road to their left, veering away from it as they headed deeper into the dark forest. Karnvost was a day’s march south, so Tol knew they would be sleeping rough. Ordinarily he didn’t mind sleeping under the stars, though the biting cold of a winter that just wouldn’t die made it far more unpleasant than he would have liked. Katarina, though, he couldn’t imagine her sleeping under the stars. Her bearing, accent, every part of her, screamed nobility. Yet here she was, tramping through a forest and hauling her own luggage, and without even asking why they had left civilisation behind. Unless, Tol thought, her servant told her outside. But no, he didn’t think there’d been time, so he reasoned she either didn’t mind bedding down on a forest floor, or had already worked out trouble had come calling. And if it’s the second, she doesn’t seem the least bit disturbed. And that – if he was right – told Tol more about her than any conversation ever would. Especially with her gift for avoiding explanations.
‘A strange choice for a paramour, Steven.’
Tol sighed. So we’re back to that. Is my name so terrible?
‘She seemed a little homely, but I suppose not unattractive, in a certain middle-aged peasant kind of way. And,’ Katarina added, ‘the inn is probably worth a fair amount; it never hurts to marry into money.’
‘She’s just a friend,’ Tol retorted, a little more defensively than he had intended. Katarina didn’t reply immediately and he stole a glance at her as the moonlight shone through the canopy on her face. The look she wore was one of mild bemusement.
‘Then she must be a good friend indeed. She seemed most concerned about your welfare, Steven. Or did you not notice? I know you men can be as thick-headed as mules when it comes ladies.’
‘It’s not like that,’ he insisted.
‘No? Well, no matter, I am glad you have friends to aid you. I must confess that when we met I never thought you might have friends as far afield as this.’
‘I don’t – I didn’t. It’s just… I only met her today,’ Tol finished, realising as the words left his lips that, somehow, this was exactly what Katarina wanted to know. For her part, she kept any expression of triumph from her face.
‘I see. So even though I saved your life you trusted a tavern wench more than I?’ Her voice began to rise in pitch, though somehow still remaining dangerously quiet. ‘You clearly told her something of your predicament, as she rightly seemed concerned for you as you departed. Yet to I, who rescued you from mercenaries at great peril to myself and my oaf of a travelling companion, you tell nothing except lies and half-truths. “I’m going to the convent,”’ she mimicked in a sing-song voice. ‘I had expected more from you, Steven.’ Katarina paused a moment. ‘Did you know of her beforehand, is that why? I could understand the slight if your masters had directed you to her homely arms, or even if you knew of her by reputation.’
‘Yes, no,um… kind of. I knew I could trust her, but I’d never met her before.’ I’ve said too much, Tol realised.
‘The sign.’
Tol sighed. Damn it! ‘Yes, the sign. How did you know?’
‘A lucky guess, Steven, that’s all; a lucky guess.’
Now who’s lying? He snorted, and found himself on the receiving end of a withering glare.
‘I had heard rumours that there are places where those of the Reve might find comfort and aid.’ She shrugged. ‘I dismissed them as idle gossip, but then when I saw the tattoo on the sign of the Reve’s symbol, well, it began to make sense. Do not worry, Steven,’ she told him, patting his shoulder, ‘I am not given to idle gossip and would not reveal such knowledge to anyone who wished to harm the Knights Reve.’
She fell to silence, and Tol was left with his muddied thoughts as they traipsed through the forest, faint rays of moonlight seeping through the dense canopy overhead. He wanted to believe her, wanted more than anything to trust her and share his troubles, but something held him back, a niggle way back in his brain that her beauty and silky words muffled to a distant echo but could not completely silence.
*
‘Here will do,’ Katarina announced, coming to a halt at the foot of an ancient oak tree on the edge of a small clearing. She slipped out of her pack, letting it drop to the ground as she arched her back and stretched, a low gasp of relief escaping her lips as her head tilted back. Her furs parted as her arms splayed outwards, and Tol saw the bodice of her tunic strain noticeably, the tautness of cloth increasing as Katarina drew in a deep breath. Tol pulled his eyes away as her head came back forward and Katarina’s arms sank to her sides, but not before her companion gave him a hard look that left Tol feeling a little guilty.
‘Stetch, go and find some firewood; we will camp here.’
Stetch’s eyes flicked towards Tol and stayed on him a heartbeat longer than was comfortable, the significance of the glance not lost on him.
‘Run along,’ Katarina told him with a wave of her hand, ‘I’ll be fine.’
She watched Tol as a tiger might view an ant; so far removed from itself in the food chain that its existence barely merited attention. He dropped his pack to the forest floor beside hers, conscious of her eyes on him, his skin prickling. He began making a hollow in the hard ground a few yards from the oak’s trunk with a nearby stone, patiently digging a fire pit. He didn’t look up – didn’t need to – but he could feel her gaze upon him.
‘Your friend at the convent is dead.’
Tol paused in his labours briefly, shoulders dropping as he resumed his task.
‘They are all dead.’
He carried on. What was there to say?
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
‘No.’
A rustle of fabric reached his ears and Tol turned to see Katarina sink gracefully to her haunches, her back against the oak.
‘Did you run, Steven?’
Tol had risen and taken a step towards her before he managed to rein in his anger. He took a deep breath and uncurled his fists as Katarina rose up to her full height, her forehead almost reaching his chin. ‘No,’ he told her, ‘I didn’t run.’
‘But you heard the screams, didn’t you?’ Katarina guessed. ‘You couldn’t have gone far by the time they reached the convent; the sound would have travelled.’
‘I heard them all right,’ he told her, looking away. ‘I heard them all.’ The tapestry had muffled the screams from the abbey, but the tunnel still carried the sound a long way, almost to the end. He closed his eyes. ‘The convent was worse than Icepeak.’
Suddenly she was there in front of him, a delicate hand cupping his chin and gently lifting it up. ‘You wanted to stay, didn’t you?’ she said quietly. ‘Given the choice, you would have fought for them despite knowing the odds.’
‘I warned them,’ Tol whispered.
‘It must have been difficult, to leave when you knew what those men were doing, to have heard the screams and done nothing.’
‘I nearly went back,’ Tol admitted. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’
‘You poor thing,’ she said, umber irises searching his face. ‘All the monks and knights dead, then all those women at the convent; so many dead.’ She sighed, a whisper on the night wind. ‘What have you gotten yourself into, Steven, that the worst killers in the world murder women and children just to reach you?’
Tol stepped back, saw the frown crease Katarina’s brow as Stetch’s plodding footfalls announced his return to the glade. ‘I was not expecting an answer,’ she told him gently. ‘I just wonder what kind of man would place this burden upon such young shoulders.’
I never said there were knights at Icepeak. Tol knew she had learned of the murder there, but had assumed it was by word of mouth, maybe even bragging members of the Band as they passed on the road. I was wrong. She had been there – had to have been there to know knights had defended the monastery. And once Tol accepted that single fact, it threw into doubt everything else she had said and done.
‘Steven?’
Tol exhaled softly as he heard the clatter of firewood dropping behind him, heard Katarina’s companion brush the dirt off his hands, only a pace or two behind him. There would never be, he realised, a better chance. His mind made up, Tol drew back his right arm and punched Katarina square in the face.
18.
‘And where were you?’
Her voice was eerily calm, like the eye of a storm. It had happened so fast, Tol was still trying to work out what exactly had happened. He had punched Katarina in the face – or tried to. One moment his fist was two inches from her rotund nose – no small target - and the next he had been dumped unceremoniously on his side, one arm pinned beneath him and the other pointing to the sky at – judging by the unceasing pain – an angle it was not supposed to bend. Her fingers held his wrist in place, while one knee was making a home for itself in Tol’s kidney and the other rested none too lightly on his neck. The world was swimming in and out of view, but he saw her manservant shrug his shoulders, answering the question with typical brevity.
Angel's Truth (Angelwar Book 1) Page 11
