[Blood on the Reik 02] - Death's City

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  “Me too,” Rudi said. “Like you, I mean.” He hovered irresolute, wondering if he dared return the kiss, but before he could make up his mind, Hanna was turning away, heading for the shelter of the cart.

  “Hurry up,” she said. “You’ll catch cold if you stay out here much longer.”

  Rudi followed, barely aware that the rain was growing harder. He settled on the bedroll, nudging Fritz out of the way, and pillowed his head on his pack.

  “Goodnight,” he said, listening to the pattering of the rain on the fabric overhead and blessing whichever deity it was who had provided the shelter just as the weather broke. Shallya he supposed, she was Hanna’s patron, although he couldn’t quite see why the goddess of healing and mercy would have killed so many soldiers just to help them. Maybe Magnus had been right when he said the gods help those who help themselves?

  “Goodnight.” Hanna sighed, wriggled against him in a manner he found most distracting, and was asleep in moments. Conscious of the closeness of her body, which evoked distracting memories of the night they’d been forced to shed their clothes in order not to freeze to death after swimming to the bank of the Reik, and still feeling the ghost of her lips on his cheek, Rudi took a long time to fall asleep despite his exhaustion.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was light when Rudi finally woke and a grey, cheerless illumination filtered through low, leaden clouds. He turned over, finding himself alone in the wagon, and sat up abruptly, reaching for the hilt of his sword. A moment later, attracted by the noise, Hanna’s face appeared around the edge of the tarpaulin.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning.” Rudi yawned widely and swung his legs over the tailgate. His head felt fuzzy from having slept so long and so deeply, and he inhaled the familiar smell of damp earth and leaf mould gratefully. It reminded him of the woods he’d grown up in and a brief, unexpected pang of homesickness reared up in him. He forced it away. “You should have woken me.”

  “You needed the sleep.” Hanna grinned briefly, her own mood clearly improved by a few hours of rest. “Healer’s orders.”

  “Then I wouldn’t dream of arguing.” Rudi flushed, suddenly reminded of some dreams in which she’d featured prominently, and turned to the remains of the fire. It was smoking faintly and Fritz was crouching over it, blowing it back into life. “Anything I can do?”

  “You could see if we’ve got rabbit for breakfast,” Hanna suggested, tugging her headscarf a little further down on her forehead. She didn’t wince as her hand neared the faint bulge near the centre, so Rudi assumed the talisman could somehow tell whether she intended touching it or not. A few wisps of blonde hair had escaped the scarf and she tucked them back with a gesture identical to the one her mother had constantly made. As she did so, Rudi was struck anew with the closeness of the resemblance between them.

  “Right.” He walked off to check the snares he’d set, finding to his relief that Taal had evidently been listening to his request to fill them the evening before. When he returned to the camp he had three dead coneys swinging at his belt, and his head felt much clearer from the fresh air and exercise.

  “You’ve done well,” Fritz said, in tones of grudging approval which reminded Rudi of his attempt to complement the older lad on his skill with the horse the previous evening. He nodded, appreciating the effort his erstwhile enemy was making to be cordial.

  “I was lucky.” He approached the fire, which was now crackling cheerfully, and began cleaning the rabbits with the knife from his belt.

  “He’s just being modest,” Hanna said, taking the first skinned and gutted corpse to spit on a stick. “He kept us well fed when we were crossing the wasteland together.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Rudi appreciated the compliment, feeling a smile spread across his face.

  “You did your part too,” he pointed out, before remembering too late that much of what she’d accomplished had been by the covert use of her magical gifts. Seeing her face harden, he hurried on. “All those edible plants you found.”

  “Sounds like you had quite a good time of it,” Fritz said, “all things considered.”

  “It was an interesting experience,” Hanna said, but the conversational tone had left her voice, and Rudi cursed himself silently for reminding her once again of the harm Gerhard had done. Their talk for the rest of the meal remained desultory, concerned mainly with the prospects for the day’s weather, which Rudi felt were less than encouraging, how much further Marienburg was, which nobody knew, and what they were likely to find when they got there. On this topic, at least, they all had opinions, although most of what they thought they knew had been gleaned at second or third hand from gossip and the few travellers who’d passed through Kohlstadt on their way to Dribruken and the scattering of hamlets beyond.

  “They’ve got elves living there,” Fritz said. “Imagine that. Real elves.” He seemed quite taken with the idea. “It’s the only place in the old world where they still live.”

  “Apart from some of the forests,” Rudi replied. “So people say.”

  “You spent all your life in a forest,” Fritz pointed out. “Did you ever see one?”

  “Wrong forest,” Rudi said. “They only live in the really big ones.”

  “Maybe.” Fritz shrugged. “But they’re definitely in Marienburg.”

  “I just hope Magnus is,” Rudi said. He’d told his companions he was hoping the merchant had survived the massacre in the forest and had fled to his home in the city to escape Gerhard, but had kept his real reasons for doing so to himself. Magnus knew who his parents had been, his adoptive father’s dying words had told him so, but why the merchant had kept something like that a secret for so long continued to elude him.

  “How will you find him?” Fritz asked. “It’s a big place.”

  “I don’t know.” Rudi shrugged. “He’s an important man, wealthy and influential. Someone must know where he lives.”

  “He’s important and wealthy in Kohlstadt,” Hanna said. “That might not mean much in the city.”

  “Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Rudi said, not wanting to pursue the subject any further.

  “Maybe. At least we’ll be safer from Gerhard there.”

  “Will we?” Fritz looked doubtful. “He doesn’t seem like the kind to give up easily.”

  “Marienburg’s independent,” Hanna reminded him. “They seceded from the Empire ages ago, remember? Imperial officials don’t have any jurisdiction there, not even witch hunters.”

  “He might not let that stop him,” Rudi said.

  Hanna nodded. “Probably not. But it ought to slow him down a bit. At least we’ll see him coming next time.”

  Rudi nodded too and hoped she was right.

  By the time they were ready to move and Fritz had harnessed the horse, the weather had closed in again. A light, pervasive drizzle enveloped everything, seeping through their clothing and shrinking the world around them as the horizon softened and blurred through the watery haze. After some discussion Fritz claimed the travelling cloak, which Hanna relinquished with clear misgivings, and sat bundled up in it on the driver’s seat of the cart. Rudi and Hanna rode in the back, listening to the rain patter on the oiled canvas above them, their view of the road restricted to an oblong of receding carriageway. Today nothing passed them, the hard packed earth remaining unrutted by any wheels other than their own.

  “Well, it could be worse,” Rudi ventured after a while. Hanna turned to look at him, but didn’t bother to respond. Since they’d set off she’d just sat, propped up against one side of the cart, her chin on her knees, staring pensively into space. Encouraged, Rudi went on. “We’re dry and we’re moving.”

  “You’re dry,” Fritz commented from the seat up front, his voice testy. “I should have shown you both how to do this before the weather broke.”

  “I managed all right before,” Rudi offered. He’d lived all his life outdoors and the rain was just a mild inconvenience to him. No doubt Fritz, the on
ly urbanite among them, used to sheltering streets and indoor living, found it a great deal more onerous. “I’ll take a turn if you like.”

  “Better not.” The acknowledgement was grudging, Fritz clearly tempted to take him up on his offer. “The road’s getting slippery. If we’re to keep up the pace we need an experienced driver.”

  “Later then,” Rudi said. “When it clears.”

  “Count on it,” Fritz said. Silence descended again, broken only by the creaking of the cart, the squeaking of its wheels, the pattering of the rain and the rhythmic plodding of the horse, which for some reason Fritz had christened Willem.

  “We can’t just keep calling him ‘horse’,” he said, when Hanna asked him why. “And he looks like a Willem.” Rudi and Hanna had looked at each other, and from then on Willem it was.

  Though the lowering clouds made it hard to estimate the time, Rudi was fairly sure it was only mid-morning when the cart began to slow. Taken by surprise, he poked his head out, balancing precariously on the lip of the tailboard to peer over the canvas at Fritz’s back, narrowing his eyes against the persistent drizzle.

  “Are we stopping already?” he asked.

  “There’s someone up ahead.” Fritz gestured with his free hand. Rudi hoisted himself a little higher, almost losing his balance as the cart lurched through a pothole. A solitary human figure was plodding along the road ahead of them, swathed in a cloak so spattered with mud it was hard to tell where the garment ended and the carriageway began. As the cart drew level, it started visibly and gestured with the staff it carried.

  “Oh! Goodness me.” Watery blue eyes blinked behind spectacles, the first Rudi had ever seen, regarding the travellers with mild curiosity. “I had no idea you were there. Quite lost in thought, I’m afraid.”

  The voice was mild and conversational, although after his experiences with Gerhard, Rudi wasn’t about to take that at face value.

  The cloaked figure fell into step beside the wagon, still talking. “Rather a foolhardy state of mind on the open road, you might think, and you’d be right. Bandits, orcs, goblins and beastmen, no telling what you might come across on a day like this. But then they say Shallya takes care of the foolish, and I suppose they must be right, because here I still am after all the wandering I’ve done.” The strange little man glanced up at Fritz as though expecting a response, then redirected his gaze to Rudi. “But I’m forgetting my manners. Artemus van Loenhoek at your service.”

  “I’m Rudi. That’s Fritz.” If the stranger noticed his omission of their surnames he gave no sign of it.

  “Delighted to meet you. Safety in numbers, they say, and in my experience they’d be right.”

  “So what are you doing out here on your own?” Fritz asked bluntly.

  The little man smiled ruefully. “Alas, I fell out with my travelling companions. A trivial matter, about which I’d rather not speak, beyond mentioning that some people have inordinately suspicious natures where games of chance are concerned, particularly when rash wagers are made in the heat of the moment.”

  “They thought you were cheating?” Fritz asked.

  Artemus looked hurt. “Most certainly not, although I’d wager a crown or two that somebody was. The run of cards was quite against me, and despite my word of honour, no one seemed inclined to trust my note of credit, so we parted company. Somewhat acrimoniously, I might add. Harsh words were spoken, which I hope on sober reflection might be regretted.”

  “Herr von Leyenhook…” Rudi began, trying to stem the apparently endless torrent of words, but the effort was futile. The muddy traveller raised his hand reprovingly.

  “Van Loenhoek, young man. I have the inestimable honour to be a citizen of the free city of Marienburg rather than your admirable Empire, through which I have been a most fascinated wanderer for many years past, and never have been nor ever will be von anything. But your manners, it must be said, do you credit.”

  “Oh,” Rudi said, whatever he’d been about to say fleeing from his brain.

  “We’re heading for Marienburg ourselves,” Fritz volunteered, with the open candour of the feeble minded.

  “Then we are well met indeed.” Artemus swung himself aboard the cart without seeming to break stride, seating himself firmly beside the heavyset youth. “For my part I seem to have acquired a pair of most fascinating travelling companions, not to mention relief for my aching feet, while you, I feel sure, have many questions about the great city I have the privilege to call home.”

  “How do you know we haven’t been there before?” Rudi asked, trying to regain some of the initiative.

  Artemus laughed good-naturedly. “Had you done so, you would hardly have mispronounced my name so egregiously. If I read you right, and I seldom read anybody wrong if I may say so without sounding both presumptuous and egotistical, you are a pair of young men for whom the drudgery of rural living has begun to pall. And why not? You’re young, the world is there for the taking and the path to your destiny must surely begin in Marienburg. For there the whole world comes. Am I right?”

  “Up to a point,” Rudi said. “For one thing, I have a friend there I need to see. And for another, there’s three of us.” He urged Hanna up beside him, which, after a moment of glaring, she consented to do. “This is Hanna.”

  “Charmed.” Artemus nodded courteously to the girl. “Artemus van…”

  “I heard your name.” Hanna ducked back under the tarpaulin.

  “Then I feel honoured to have it known by such a strong minded young woman. You say what you think, plain and simple, which is an admirable trait indeed. Far too many folk these days simply prattle on without thought, or a moment’s consideration as to whether their conversation is actually welcome. Garrulousness, they say, is the sign of a feeble mind, although there are some philosophers of a contrary view. Most of them, however, are so tedious to read they all but undermine their own case.”

  Rudi followed Hanna back beneath the tarpaulin, bracing himself for a furious diatribe. She was back in her original place, braced against the side of the cart, hugging her knees. She seemed to be trembling violently and Rudi quailed, anticipating the eruption of her temper. Then she raised her face, stuffing her fist into her mouth, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was shaking with silent laughter.

  Despite Rudi’s initial misgivings, their unexpected companion turned out to be a considerable help to them. For one thing, he could drive a cart at least as well as Fritz, which meant they made far better time than he’d dared to hope, and for another he was a fascinating raconteur. Artemus had been away from the city of his birth for many years and had tales of places the trio of fugitives from Kohlstadt had barely heard of. He’d trodden the ramparts of Middenheim, seen the legendary Detlef Sierk performing his own plays in Altdorf and discussed philosophy with the learned men of Nuln. But nothing he’d seen, he swore, could hold a penny candle to the splendours of Marienburg.

  “But how do you make a living?” Rudi asked when they camped together for the night.

  Artemus spread his hands. “However I can,” he said with a smile. “I’ve turned my hand to a lot over the years. But mainly as a scribe. There’s always someone needing a document read, or a letter written, or a book copied.”

  “I thought they used some kind of machine for that,” Hanna said. “So they can print dozens at a time.”

  “Hundreds,” Artemus said. “But not all books are for wide dissemination.” Hanna nodded, almost imperceptibly, but if the scribe noticed he made no sign of the fact that Rudi could see.

  “So tell us about Marienburg,” he said.

  “Now there’s a subject I never get tired of.” He paused, to wipe a smear of grease from his chin. “Excellent rabbit, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome,” Rudi said. “Now about Marienburg…”

  “How to describe the greatest city in the world?” Artemus looked at a loss for a moment. “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know how to find my friend when I ge
t there,” Rudi said. “If it’s as big as you say that might be a problem.”

  “There are no problems in Marienburg which can’t be solved,” Artemus assured him. He dipped his head and made a curious sign with his hand not unlike the grasping of a coin. “Hendryk willing, of course.”

  “Of course.” Rudi nodded, recognising the name of the god of commerce and merchants after a moment’s thought. Magnus had mentioned that he was the patron deity of Marienburg, so he supposed it wasn’t too surprising that the natives of that city would swear by him.

  “How?” Hanna asked.

  Artemus smiled. “Ah. Now that’s something you really need to know. First of all, information is a commodity, like anything else. Whatever you want to know, somebody already does, you can count on that. It’s simply a matter of finding out who and coming to a suitable arrangement.”

  “You mean pay for it,” Rudi said.

  Artemus nodded. “You can do, that’s usually the simplest way. Certainly the least complicated.”

  “What if you can’t afford to?” Hanna asked. “Or you don’t want to attract attention?”

  “There are ways,” Artemus assured her. A note of warning entered his voice. “But be very careful about starting down that canal, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I think I do,” Hanna said.

  Rudi nodded too. “We can take care of ourselves,” he said.

  “I’m sure you can.” Artemus ladled another portion of stew from the cooking pot, which he’d produced from his pack to Fritz’s unconcealed delight, but sounded unconvinced. Rudi began to wonder if perhaps the city was not such a good idea after all, but forced the thought away. He’d fought beastmen and a witch hunter, and he doubted there was anything in Marienburg quite as dangerous as either.