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

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  “You owe us twelve guilders,” Fritz said. He still looked ready to make his displeasure felt physically, but for now seemed content to take his lead from Rudi.

  The scribe nodded sadly. “I’ll make full restitution, have no fear on that score.” He turned to go, then glanced back. “When cooler heads prevail you can find me at the guildhall of the Company of Scriveners, Illuminators and Copyists in the Tempelweik.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Fritz muttered.

  “Hendrick’s purse, what happened to her?” Marta cried, bustling forwards the moment Rudi entered the taproom of the Dancing Pirate. Hanna was regaining consciousness and stirred feebly in his arms as they crossed the threshold.

  “She fainted,” he said, the same half-truth they’d used on the road slipping easily past his lips. “I think she found the crowds a little too much to take.”

  “I should think she did, the poor lamb. Don’t just stand there like a bottle of wine in the Arabiastad, sit her down.” Marta pulled a chair out from under the nearest table and rounded on Koos. “Go and get her some broth.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Hanna slithered out of Rudi’s embrace, tried to stand for a moment and slumped in the chair, her head pillowed on her arms.

  Marta tutted impatiently. “Yes, you look it.” She glanced up as Nickolaas approached the table with a bowl of water. “What have you got there?”

  “Koos said the young lady wasn’t feeling well.” The innkeeper shrugged. “I thought maybe a cold compress?”

  “Two good ideas in one lifetime, Nickolaas? Who would have thought it?” Marta wrung out a cloth in the cool water and began to clean the blood off Hanna’s face. “Oh my goodness, what on earth have you been doing?”

  “I bumped my nose when I fell,” Hanna said shortly.

  “What was the other good idea?” Fritz asked, looking confused.

  “Marrying me.” Marta wrung the cloth out again and folded it into a pad. “Here.” She held it out. “Take that nice scarf off and hold this to your head.”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Hanna said hastily, and Rudi hesitated, trying desperately to think of something to say or do which might deflect the woman’s well-meaning attention.

  “Nonsense.” Marta didn’t seem deflectable by anything short of a cavalry charge. “It’s by far the best thing.” She reached out a hand towards the knot securing the scarf, batting Hanna’s hand aside as she tried to fend her off.

  “Don’t fuss so much, auntie.” A new voice joined the conversation and Rudi turned, startled; he hadn’t heard an approaching footstep. Kris the mage stood there, smiling in an apparently open and friendly manner. Given his physique it seemed even more astonishing that he’d been able to approach unheard and Rudi felt a tingle of unease. Alwyn had been able to conceal her movements with sorcery and maybe this affable young man could too. “I’m sure the young lady knows what’s best for her.”

  “She does,” Rudi assured them, grabbing the chance the sorcerer’s intervention had given him to take control of the situation again. “She’s a healer.” He glanced at Hanna. “Is there anything in your satchel I can get that might help?”

  “No, thank you.” Hanna shook her head, wincing at the sharp movement, and smiled gratefully at Koos as the boy approached with a steaming bowl of broth. “That’s the best possible medicine, I think.”

  “Nothing beats good home cooking,” Marta agreed, mollified by the implied compliment, and turned to go. “If you need anything else, just ask.”

  “I will.” Hanna sipped a spoonful of the soup and glanced up at the mage. “Won’t you join us?”

  “Thank you.” The portly young man pulled up a chair next to her and smiled again. “I’m Kris, but of course you already know that.” He glanced briefly at Rudi, with barely concealed amusement, then back to the girl. “How should I call you?”

  “Hanna will do,” Hanna said. Rudi felt baffled. That was her name, so why should she want to be called something else, or imply that she might be? Alwyn had asked her the same question the night they met at the Jolly Friar, he recalled, so perhaps it was a sorcerer’s thing. Kris glanced questioningly at Rudi and Fritz. “They know,” she said.

  “I thought so.” Kris nodded. “But it’s always safest never to assume.” Then he smiled widely. “It was pretty obvious when I saw you in here last night, though.”

  “How?” Fritz asked, slipping into another chair.

  “Some of us can see the imprint of sorcery where normal eyes can’t. I take it from the way you were looking at me that you have the sight as well?”

  “Yes,” Hanna said heavily. “I have the sight. I also have a problem…”

  “Fascinating,” Kris said, gazing at the seal on Hanna’s forehead. They’d returned to the girl’s room, where they’d be sure of some privacy, and Rudi stood beside the door where he could intercept any further attempts at well-meaning interference from the landlady. That didn’t seem terribly likely, as Hanna had made the excuse of needing some sleep before he and the mage had helped her up the stairs, but he remained all too aware of the danger the girl was in and there was no point in taking any chances. Fritz had remained downstairs, ostensibly to prevent anyone else from intruding, but Rudi suspected he was actually more interested in grabbing some food while he had the chance. Come to think of it, the brawl in the gambling den had been pretty strenuous exercise, and now the adrenaline was wearing off he was beginning to feel hungry himself.

  “That’s not how I’d describe it,” Hanna said, and the mage nodded sympathetically.

  “I’m sure.” Kris raised a hand towards the thing. Hanna flinched and he pulled it back hastily. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realised it was that sensitive.”

  “Do you know how to take it off?” Rudi asked.

  Kris shook his head. “To be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’d heard stories about some witch hunters using things like this, but I’d always assumed they were just rumours.”

  “Evidently not,” Hanna said dryly.

  “Quite,” Kris agreed, bending his head for a closer look, then nodding in quiet satisfaction. “One good thing, anyway, judging by the comet tails embossed in the wax, it’s obviously been blessed in the name of Sigmar.”

  “How does that help us?” Hanna asked.

  Kris smiled grimly. “He’s not a popular god around here. Any enchantments done in His name are going to be weaker in Marienburg than anywhere in the Empire. That gives us a much better chance of getting rid of it.”

  “You’d really do that for her?” Rudi asked.

  “Most mages would, unless she’s obviously been corrupted by Chaos.” He grinned at Hanna for a moment. “And I can’t see any horns or tentacles.” His expression changed again and he pointed at the talisman with every sign of loathing. “That could have been me, or any one of my colleagues, if the witch hunters had found us before we recognised our gifts and found somewhere to get properly trained. Something like that touches us all.”

  “Do you think I could do that?” Hanna asked, an edge of carefully restrained hope creeping into her voice. “Get one of the colleges to take me on as an apprentice?”

  “It’s possible,” Kris said, “if you made it to Altdorf. We don’t have them here.”

  “But Koos said you were trained by a college,” Rudi interrupted.

  The young mage nodded. “Baron Henryk’s. It’s the only institution in Marienburg which can. They provide tuition and issue licences to practise magic which are recognised throughout the known world. Just like the Imperial colleges really, only a bit less hidebound by tradition.”

  “Could I enroll there?” Hanna asked eagerly.

  “Undoubtedly, if you can find the fees.” Her expression was the only answer he needed and he forced a smile. “But this is Marienburg, don’t forget. You can always cut some kind of a deal.”

  “If I can’t get this thing off me it’s all academic anyway,” Hanna said.

  “Quite.” Kris’
tone became businesslike again. “So first things first. We need to find someone who can get rid of it for you.”

  “So how do we do that?” Rudi asked.

  Kris glanced at him and shook his head. “You don’t. I’ve got some contacts at the university and among the local mages. I’ll ask around.” He grinned suddenly. “And there are a couple of things I can mention that should incline them to help.”

  “Which are?” Hanna asked suspiciously.

  “Well for one thing,” Kris said, “helping you would be a poke in the eye for an Imperial witch hunter. That certainly won’t hurt.”

  “And for another?” Hanna asked.

  “You’re a very pretty girl,” the mage said. “And wizards are just as susceptible to that as the next man.”

  Hanna blushed furiously, her mouth working like a landed fish, apparently lost for words for the first time Rudi could ever recall.

  “Do you trust him?” Fritz asked. He’d still been sitting at the same table when Rudi and Kris had come back after leaving Hanna to sleep off the effects of the seizure as best she could, and watched the mage’s departing back with a scowl.

  “I don’t know,” Rudi replied, still trying to ignore the pang of jealously the young man’s words had kindled in him. He had no idea why he should have felt so strongly. After all, he hardly had a claim on Hanna and it was true that she was quite attractive if you liked bossy blondes with a bad temper. “But I don’t think we’ve got a choice in the matter.”

  “I suppose not,” Fritz conceded, dismissing the matter from his mind with an ease Rudi found quite annoying. Kris had promised to bring what news he could the following day and there was nothing more to be done before then. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the matter of lunch. “Marta’s done this thing with eels. You should try it.”

  “Might as well,” Rudi agreed.

  To his vague surprise Rudi felt much better after eating something, and trying not to think too much about how the size of the food bill was escalating, he pushed his chair back from the table at last with a sigh of satisfaction. It was shortly after noon, by his reckoning, although precious little sunshine made its way down the narrow alleyway to the windows of the inn. Now there was nothing for him to do, he felt restless and confined. He stood up to pace the floor of the tavern.

  “Do you have to do that?” Fritz asked irritably. “You’re making the place look untidy.”

  “Sorry.” Rudi stopped pacing, but remained standing. Used to life in the open air, he felt stifled by the close press of buildings all around them and the teeming crowds which thronged the streets all day and seemingly on into the night. “I think I need some air.”

  “If that’s what you call it,” Fritz said sourly. Clearly the ever-present reek was as unwelcome to him as Rudi found it.

  “Do you want to come?”

  “No thanks,” Fritz said, to Rudi’s unspoken relief. “If you’re going out I’d better stay here.” His eyes flickered upwards for a moment, in the general direction of Hanna’s room. “Just in case.”

  “Good idea,” Rudi said, trying not to notice the older lad ordering another ale even before he’d reached the door.

  The narrow alleyway was as crowded as ever, although the smell seemed to have diminished a little, but Rudi assumed it was just that he was beginning to get used to it. Picking a direction at random, he merged with the hurrying throng, content for a while just to be moving again and taking in the sights and sounds of the city around him.

  The first surprise was that there seemed to be water everywhere, narrow channels between the buildings he’d taken for alleyways from a distance, frequently turning out to be thin canals, barely wide enough for a single boat, over which the roadways were carried by bridges. Occasionally, as he glanced down one, he caught a glimpse of more open water, where they opened out into lagoons wide enough for a small dock, where a house or place of business had an entrance opening directly onto the waterways. Almost as often, the narrow passageways turned out to be paved after all, offering an alternative route to his wandering feet.

  A couple of times, he crossed more substantial bodies of water, where the canals were wide enough to carry almost as much traffic as the streets; possibly even more so, as the vast majority of land routes were too narrow to accommodate carts or horses and nearly all the commercial traffic appeared to be conveyed by boat. Some of these bridges were almost indistinguishable from the rest of the street, as they were encrusted with shops and houses like the one they’d entered the city by.

  Once he turned into a square full of shops and market stalls, his senses battered by the brightly-coloured wares on display and the raucous cries of their owners. He’d been to the market in Kohlstadt a few times, but this was bigger, louder and more crowded than that by an entire order of magnitude. Everywhere he looked were goods of finer quality and in greater profusion than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams: clothes, food, tools, pots, everything he’d ever heard of and a good few things he hadn’t. He paused in front of a stall full of books and shook his head in wonder. There seemed to be hundreds, of all shapes, sizes and colours, and behind them pictures, printed on paper and hung from the awning, depicting scenes of battle, pastoral landscapes and images he couldn’t identify. A few of the books had been left open and he stared at the black squiggles, wondering what secrets they held.

  “Were you looking for something in particular, young sir?” The stallholder smiled at him and Rudi shook his head.

  “No, not really,” he said, a faint flush of embarrassment at his inability to comprehend the words in front of him colouring his cheeks.

  “Perhaps some artistic engravings?” the stallholder suggested, lowering his voice a little. “Newly arrived from Bretonnia, quite exceptional, if you know what I mean.”

  “No thank you,” Rudi said. The man clearly thought he was some kind of art connoisseur as well as a reader. “I was just looking.”

  “As you like,” the stallholder agreed. “We’re here every day if you change your mind.” He turned to another customer. “We have that in the original Tilean too, if you’re fluent in that tongue.”

  Rudi moved on, his mouth watering as the breeze wafted the scent from a hot sausage stall in his direction. It was only then that he realised he was becoming hungry again and that he must have been walking for several hours. His hand moved to his purse, as he intended to spend one of his few remaining coppers on some food, then he hesitated. It would be better to return to the inn and eat there than squander even more of the limited funds at his disposal.

  With that in mind he turned, intending to retrace his steps. He felt a faint chill, like an internal echo of the twilight already beginning to gather in the shadows of the square. All the streets leading into it looked the same and were still bustling with crowds.

  He didn’t have the faintest idea where he was, or how to get back.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Panicking won’t do any good, Rudi told himself firmly. The first thing to do was consider his options. He doubted that he had enough in his purse to hire a boatman to take him back to the Dancing Pirate, despite Artemus’ advice on the bridge the previous day, so that option was out. He’d just have to rely on his tracking skills. Despite the buildings hemming him in on all sides ever since he’d set off, he was pretty sure from the angles of the shadows he’d seen that he’d spent most of the afternoon heading roughly northwestward. The thing to do was set out towards the south-east and hope he found a landmark he recognised.

  First things first, though. He couldn’t afford to have his wits dulled by hunger, so he sacrificed a penny from his dwindling store of cash and ate one of the sausages from the stall which had first attracted his attention. Feeling somewhat restored, he took a bearing from the setting sun, which by now was gilding the tiles of the buildings above his head, and set off in what he felt was roughly the right direction.

  At first the going was easy, his route lying along a relatively broad thor
oughfare, but gradually the streets he was traversing narrowed. As the sun disappeared entirely, the shadows in the doorways and alley mouths darkened, becoming impenetrable, and he tried to keep as close to the centre of the street as he could. To begin with this wasn’t too easy, as the passageways between the buildings were as crowded as ever, but as the evening wore on the press of bodies around him began to thin out. The gaps between torches and lighted windows grew ever greater too and what Rudi could see of the buildings in the fitful illumination they gave seemed crumbling and dilapidated. Uncomfortable memories of the conversation on the bridge the day before began to surface, Artemus pointing out the area of dereliction he’d called the Doodkanal.

  Rudi loosened his sword in its scabbard and hurried on. The few passers-by were now gaunt and haggard, their clothing ragged, mirroring the decayed state of the buildings they evidently lived in. None seemed inclined to approach him, presumably wary of someone so well-muscled and visibly armed. The main thing, Rudi told himself, was to seem confident. If this really was the quarter he’d been warned about, the only people rash enough to enter it would be the ones with nothing to fear, which by definition would be the ones more dangerous than the denizens Artemus had hinted at. In a way, his very presence there was his best protection.

  He kept moving as though he had a destination in mind, and the more he did so the more the conviction grew in him that this was indeed the case. It was like the night in the forest outside Kohlstadt, when he’d been drawn to the gathering in the clearing where he’d met his father and Magnus, just before the beastmen had attacked. A peculiar sense of well-being settled over him at the thought and he increased his pace.