‘It gets worse?’
‘Always. You ever heard a truth that wasn’t painful?’
23.
‘You left it upstairs?’
Tol nodded as he sat back down.
‘Good.’ The man’s gaze returned to the window, and the church beyond. ‘I’ve made arrangements with Clyde, in case neither of us makes it back. Might be enough.’ He shrugged. ‘Might not. Better we make it back in one piece.’
Tol glanced at his tankard. It seemed to be holding less liquid than when he had left, while his companion’s seemed markedly fuller.
‘We’ll wait till the service ends if you’re still set on walking in there, but the smart money’s on the whole place being a nasty little trap set specially for you.’
Tol’s face must have betrayed his surprise, because the man laughed bitterly. ‘And if not for me you’d have run headlong into it without so much as a thought, wouldn’t you?’
Tol scowled. ‘I haven’t exactly had much time to think these last few days.’
‘Always think,’ the stranger urged him, ‘even if you have to stop and make time to do it.’ He shook his head, a strand of greasy hair swinging free. ‘Trust me, lad, near enough every time I ever ran into anything without thinking it ended badly. We’ve got a few minutes yet, so try and use that thick skull of yours for something other than head-butting walls. You know what you’re running from, don’t you, and I don’t just mean that bunch of killers.’
Tol nodded. A demon. A real, live demon. He shuddered.
‘And if it’s got minions running after you, what’s to stop it from having more waiting for you here? It’s got wings, lad, distance ain’t but a thing to such a beast.’
‘I suppose.’
‘And with the Reve marching east, who else could you turn to in the city? The duke’s out of the question, and we have to assume the enemy know that, so what does that leave?’
‘The church,’ Tol admitted sheepishly.
‘The church,’ the man confirmed. ‘Seems like a perfect opportunity to ambush you – no running through the wilds, just sitting and waiting for you to poke your thick head through the door.’
‘You think it has a priest in its pocket?’
The man shrugged, his eyes occasionally flitting to the window. ‘Maybe. More likely it found someone to murder the priest and take his place; much simpler, less risky.’
‘It’s still a big risk though,’ Tol said. ‘You could be wrong.’
‘Aye, could be,’ the stranger admitted. ‘Everyone’s wrong once. Michael used to say the trick was being wrong when your head’s not on the line.’ He smiled, attention fixed on the church doors across the road. ‘This sound like one of those situations?’
So why does he look so happy? Tol wondered. The man opposite him had a strange expression on his face, almost as though he was looking forward to being proved right. I was right, Tol thought, he really is half-mad and if he’s right he’s going to go charging in. ‘If you’re right, maybe it’s better to avoid the trap altogether,’ he said slowly as the church’s doors reopened, a slow stream of people trickling forth. ‘The Truth has to be more important, and we can always send someone to deal with them once we reach the capital.’
The stranger’s head swung sharply back to face him. ‘Kron Vulder, eh? Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look if that’s your plan. That’s where the Reve have gone and you get among them you might just make it out of this alive.’
‘I have to find the Seven themselves,’ said Tol as the man’s attention returned to the street outside. ‘The abbot, he said there’s a traitor within the Reve; I can’t trust the book to any but the Seven.’
The man laughed harshly, though his gaze stayed rooted on the dwindling crowd outside. ‘You just figuring that out now, lad? I take back what I said about you not being dumb, you’re a fool, all right, and maybe second only to me for coming back to this Maker-forsaken place when I knew I shouldn’t.’
‘Enough with the insults!’ Tol thumped the table, and finally got the man’s attention. ‘Instead of telling me how bloody stupid I am, how about you try helping? I didn’t even know the Truth existed till the old man dragged me down the cellar and told me to deliver a bloody message to some hoary old nuns!’
‘You shout our business again,’ the man told him with quiet menace, his eyes still fixed on the church, ‘and I will put you in the ground myself.’ Tol felt something sharp brush his inner thigh and the madman smiled. ‘We clear?’
‘We’re clear,’ Tol said through gritted teeth, ‘but if you don’t start explaining what the Pit is going on I swear I’ll leave you here and take my chances on my own.’
The stranger cast a quick glance at Tol, and studied him for a moment. ‘Fair enough,’ he said quietly, returning his attention to the street. He frowned. ‘You never heard of the Angel’s Truth before this little adventure of yours began?’
‘No.’
‘What did Michael tell you?’
‘He said it was the secret at the heart of our order, and that was pretty much all he said – that there was a traitor within the Reve - and the sisters at the convent told me nothing, except…’
‘Except?’
‘The names of the Seven,’ Tol admitted.
‘So now you know two secrets the Church’s enemies would kill for. Now,’ the stranger said quietly, ‘you know too much to let you fall into the enemy’s hands.’
‘I wouldn’t talk,’ Tol said.
‘Everybody talks, boy. Everybody.’ The stranger spared him a pitying glance, his granite features fractionally softening. ‘I don’t doubt you’d hold out, but sooner or later every man breaks, beggar or king.’ He quickly scanned the gloomy bar, talking in a hushed whisper so that Tol had to lean forward to hear him. ‘Very few men know the identities of the Seven, their names are a secret closely guarded by the order. Some know a name or two, but only a handful of men in the world know them all. The Angel’s Truth, though, is more precious still. It’s very existence is a closely guarded secret, and only the Seven themselves are allowed to read the book itself. As far as I know, there are only two men outside of the Seven who have read the words within those faded pages, and if word gets out then you and me are looking at charges of heresy – immediate execution.’
Tol followed the stranger’s gaze as it once again settled on the church’s exterior. The last few parishioners were coming out now, a priest in his fine brown robes accompanying them to the threshold.
‘Thing is, lad,’ the man continued, his eyes fixed on the church, ‘if the demon’s minions know about the book, then somebody within the Reve told them. We have a traitor in our ranks.’
‘Not the Seven,’ said Tol with a shake of his head, ‘surely not them.’
An acolyte in a thick woollen robe joined the priest outside as the last man dawdled, wittering on to the priest – clearly bored – about something of dubious significance.
‘Maybe even one of them,’ the man admitted, ‘they’re men same as you and I, and suffer the same doubts and failings as the rest of us. There’s still one, though, I know is definitely loyal; we find him and maybe the Truth stays safe. It’s not going to be easy, though,’ he warned Tol, ‘because destroying the book does our enemies no good – not unless they kill everyone who knows what’s in it, and that means that if they haven’t tried already, there’s going to be assassins after the Seven.’ He sighed as the last parishioner finally shook the priest’s hand and departed. ‘Getting to them isn’t going to be easy either, but we need to warn them, too, else there ain’t going to be any Seven.’
Tol’s head drooped and he stared into his tankard as he finally began to grasp the enormity of the task he had been set. Find the Seven, but not the traitor. Find them before assassins, too, or it’s all for nothing. He shook his head slowly. All the while avoiding the demon searching for me, the Band of Blood, and probably every other blade for hire in Norve.
‘Something’s wrong.’
Tol looked up, his eyes swinging to the church. Another acolyte had come to the threshold now, and the three men stood talking on the church steps.
‘Look at their boots.’
More madness? Tol looked, though, and was surprised to find all three men wearing stout leather boots under their robes – even the silk-robed priest wore dirt-speckled boots, something at odds with the rest of his finery.
‘You ever see a priest in boots like those?’
‘No.’
‘Assassins. Has to be.’ Tol’s companion frowned as the priest leaned in close to one of the acolytes. The acolyte nodded then hurried inside and closed the church’s outer doors behind him, leaving the priest and the remaining acolyte in the road. The two men stared at the closed doors for a moment, then walked away into the night.
Tol leaned closer to the window. ‘Where are they going? This doesn’t make any sense.’
The two men headed right, turned right again at the crossroads, lost to sight as they headed deeper into the city.
‘They’ve left at least one man inside waiting for you, but if two of them are abroad then this is going to be a bad day for some poor bugger.’ The man hefted his tankard and drained its remnants in one noisy slurp. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ he said, eyeing Tol carefully. ‘If they’re leaving then there’s a bigger draw somewhere else, and that’s bad. Very bad. We need to follow them.’
‘And why would I want to go anywhere with you?’
‘Because if you help me I’ll help you, and because I’m the one who knows which of the Seven you can trust. Those men need killing, lad, you know it and I know it.’ The man stared into the depths of his tankard, his jaw tightening. ‘We get the chance and maybe we’ll make a start on avenging Icepeak.’ He slammed the empty tankard down. ‘So, Tol Kraven, what’s it going to be?’
‘A walk sounds like a fine idea.’ They both slid off the bench, and Tol muttered, ‘It’s not like there’s a demon searching for me or anything.’
*
‘It’s cold.’
Tol’s new-found friend had refused to allow him to go back upstairs and retrieve the furs given him by Sir Brounhalk, and stepping outside of the Black Hand brought a freezing gust of cold air that cleared away the effects of the ale almost immediately, replacing a moderately warm mellowness with tingling fingers and toes.
‘It’s winter,’ the man explained, ‘what do you expect?’
‘Right now? Some answers would be a good start.’ The pair were following the main road deeper into the city, sticking to one side and hugging the deep shadows, their quarry barely visible ahead. ‘You could start with your name, so I know who I’m cursing when this all goes wrong.’
They passed a house, wan candlelight casting strange shadows on the man’s sunken cheeks. Looks like a beggar, Tol thought, and doesn’t smell much better. The man possessed a strange assurance, though, as if he was unburdened by doubts or fears like other men. Probably mad, though.
‘My name,’ his companion murmured, ‘is Kartane.’
‘Kar—’
The elbow caught Tol in the ribs and he groaned, clutching his side.
‘What did I tell you?’ Kartane hissed. ‘Watch your tongue!’
‘But…’
Kartane grabbed Tol by the shoulder. ‘And try not to shout,’ he growled in Tol’s ear. ‘Makes if hard to follow someone when they know you’re there.’
‘I’ve heard of you,’ Tol said quietly, as they passed a couple heading the other way, most of the city deserted now as the cold night was birthed. ‘Aren’t you the one who—’
‘Never mind what I done, boy. What matters is that I’m here now, and I’m probably the only knight of the Reve for a hundred leagues.’
‘Knight? Some knight you are, you look like you crawled out of a hedge,’ Tol said. ‘After sleeping there for a year,’ he added. He frowned as they reached the long, gentle slope that led eventually to the Duke’s castle. I know that name. The abbot said something about him…
‘Not far wrong, lad, but I still know which is the pointy end of a sword.’
‘I thought you got sent to the iron mines,’ Tol said.
‘Aye.’
‘When did you get out?’
‘When I got Michael’s letter.’
‘You broke out? Of Westreach?’
Kartane moved fast as a snake, grabbing Tol’s neck and hurling him into an alley as the soft patter of footfalls ahead paused. Tol reacted quickly, his right hand forming a fist automatically. Just as he prepared to let fly he glimpsed Kartane, a finger to his lips. The two men stood like that for five seconds, Tol glaring hard at the fallen knight as a single pair of boots returned down the road towards them, the sound growing louder. Kartane glanced at Tol’s raised fist, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow. Tol shrugged, but lowered his hand as the tattoo of boots drew nearer to the mouth of the alley. All it takes, Tol thought, is a single glance to his left and he’ll see us. The footfalls grew louder, louder still as their owner drew closer. Just when Tol thought the man would reach the alley, they slowed to a stop. He held his breath, and waited. Seconds passed as he and Kartane remained motionless. There was a soft scuffle, and the footfalls began anew. After a moment Tol sighed as he realised the sound was fading, as the man leaving to rejoin his companion. He waited until he was sure the danger was gone. ‘Come on,’ he whispered, ‘we don’t want to lose them.’
Kartane restrained him with a hand and gave a slight shake of his head. ‘No need,’ he said quietly, ‘I know where they’re going.’
‘You do? Well—’
‘—We need to take a different route. Quick,’ Kartane pointed down the alley, ‘down here and left at the end.’
‘But…’
Kartane was already gone, running lightly between the stone buildings towards the far end of the alley. Tol cursed and ran after him. He reached the end of the alley, swinging left as he entered another wide road, this one running parallel to the one they had just left. Kartane was a few yards ahead, and Tol drew alongside him in a half-dozen strides.
‘Where are they going?’ he asked between breaths.
‘Castle.’
‘And that’s a problem? There’s more guards there than anywhere else in the city.’
Kartane slowed a moment, and spared time to give Tol a disapproving glance. ‘There’s a chapel there,’ he panted, ‘and service every night.’
‘They’re going to kill the Duke?’
Kartane laughed, but it faltered to a rough cough. ‘Worse. They’re going to kill Sarah.’
‘Sarah?’
They were reaching the end of the road now, the outer wall of the castle in front of them. Kartane slowed to a brisk walk, turning right and following the wall a few yards until the corner.
‘You really didn’t pay attention to your lessons, did you? I know the old man would have told you who she was.’
Tol could see the top of the castle over the outer wall, and the two of them followed the wall, passing a small postern gate and continuing on towards the rear of the grounds.
‘Fine,’ Tol huffed, ‘I didn’t listen. Who is she?’
‘The Duke’s sister-in-law.’
‘Sister-in-law?’ That doesn’t sound so bad. ‘Wait – isn’t she the one—’
‘Yes,’ Kartane interrupted, ‘and we’re going to stop them killing her.’
‘Oh, no,’ Tol said, ‘I don’t think so. Even if we could get in – which we can’t – we’ll never get to her in time. I’m sorry, but the book’s more important than some lady’s life a—’
Kartane moved so fast Tol didn’t even see it coming. He found himself flung against the wall of the grounds, malevolent, cold eyes inches from his own. ‘Think,’ Kartane snarled through gritted teeth. ‘They’re dressed as priests. They’re going to kill her and make it look like the church did this. If they kill her, the duke will turn the king against the church and that will be the end of the church in Norve, and almost
certainly the Reve with it, but probably not before the king’s men hunt down every last knight. You want to let that happen?’
‘No,’ Tol said quietly.
‘You’re too scared for this then you run now, but I’m going in, with or without you.’
Tol took a deep breath. ‘You think that could really happen? Turn the king against the church?’
A brief nod. ‘It’s what I’d do.’
‘We could warn the guards.’
‘They won’t listen to you, lad, and they’ll kill me on sight. No, the only way to save her is to break in and get to the chapel first. You with me?’
Tol sighed. I’m really not going to like this. ‘Yes. How do we get in?’
Kartane released him, nodding towards the rear wall of the grounds, just round the corner. ‘I’ve had experience of this kind of thing before,’ he said with a grin. ‘Stick with me and we might even make it back out alive.’
Great, Tol thought. Another bloody stupid quest.
24.
Sometimes Dog found things before the predators picked at their bones. When he did, they ate well.
Usually.
This morning Dog had found a bigger prize, this one not quite dead. Her skin was cold as ice, but as Old Cobb had touched her she had stirred, eyelids fluttering open. That’s what had decided it, he knew, those big brown eyes just like Cassie’s.
Old Cobb had helped her back to his shack, though the pair were leaning on each other so he didn’t rightly know who was supporting who. Little of both, he figured.
He ached now, deep in his old bones. Dumb thing to do, he thought, traipsing round the woods looking for the others. She hadn’t made much sense, but what came through those chattering teeth sent him out again. It hurt that, starting a fire then leaving it to go back out into the winter. Found ’em though, Old Cobb thought. Found ’em both.
The little one, the one with Cassie’s eyes, had warmed up a mite now. She’d moved his chair next to the fire, and the big lass was curled up in a ball on the hearth beside her. The fire was already down to its embers.
‘Did you find Kayenne?’
Angel's Truth (Angelwar Book 1) Page 16
