“I feared you had perished,” Duzayan said, sitting down as gracefully as though he were in one of the finest parlors in the city. The Brute stationed himself just behind, fondling the hilt of a humongous sword and looking at me with some of the coldest eyes in existence.
“The potion is gone,” I bit out. “Did you bring the cure?”
I found his smile distinctly unpleasant. “I knew you’d watch out for yourself. Of course I brought it. Did you bring the item?”
I gripped the sack tighter, and my other hand came down to protect it. Moisture dripped conveniently from my nose. “Give it to me.”
“Let me see what you’ve brought me,” he said, his tone perfectly equable.
“Have you ever seen one? Do you know what it looks like?”
The Ancestors fluttered about nervously.
Duzayan’s glance flickered away and then back, irritation glittering like frost. “Of course,” he said. “It is about the size of your head. Drab colored and leathery. Unprepossessing.”
“Like this?” I pulled the top of the sack down a little, giving him a glimpse of the egg.
His lips twitched ever so slightly; a precursor to victory. “Exactly like that. I’m glad your reputation wasn’t completely exaggerated. You’ve accomplished quite a feat.”
Exaggeration, my eye. I could take insult by that. “Yes, and I want the remedy for what you did to me, baron. Now.”
“We’ll trade.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I beg your pardon?” Up winged one brow and patent surprise mushroomed in his aura.
“You seem to have forgotten part of our agreement.”
“Oh, really?” he inquired, smooth as snake oil.
“Where are Tarsha and Aehana?” My hand trembled badly as I blotted perspiration from my face. My skin felt hot enough to glow, and the fiery pepper in my belly suggested I might have to make an unscheduled dash. On the other hand, puking on the baron’s fine boots would be wonderfully vindictive and only serve as further means of convincing him I was on the verge of dying.
“Where is Tanris?” he countered.
The game of answering questions with questions might have amused me in other circumstances. I gave my adversary a sickly smile. “As you said, I watch out for myself.”
He laughed in appreciative humor and I squeezed the sack as I struggled with another mostly fake cramp.
The amusement disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “Careful,” he hissed, sitting up a little straighter.
“Oh, I have been, believe me. Have you any idea what I went through to get this thing?” I twitched and jerked a little. “Of course you do, which is why you wouldn’t go after it yourself. Where are the women?”
“In good time. Were you followed?”
Yes, by a dragon, but a mere girl killed it. I resisted the temptation to share the thought. “The time is now.”
He shook his head. “You’ll give me the item,” he said, temper showing around the edges.
“No. No, I won’t. You’re not thinking clearly, baron. Give me the antidote, and you’ll still have something I want dearly. Don’t give me the antidote, and I will die and you’ll never have this... item.”
He laughed, all shaded with disbelief and crackly anger. “Come, Crow, you are not the kind of man to sacrifice yourself for anything. You know it. I know it. Women are cheap and plentiful.” He gestured toward the passersby.
“I don’t want other women.” I started to get to my feet, and a very real cramp took hold of my belly. The gods of fortune smile upon me. Sack clutched against me, one hand balancing me against the table, I gave up the contents of my stomach.
Brute grunted in disgust and took an involuntary step backward. Duzayan was hardly less nimble getting his robes out of the way. People nearby made appropriate noises of sympathy and aversion, and opened a wide margin around us that I knew would quickly fill with people who had not witnessed the incident.
I drew the back of my hand across my mouth, spat, and bowed extravagantly. “I’ll bid you good evening and goodbye, you braying chunk of garbage. May the gods visit upon you a thousand terrible curses.”
I had hardly begun my disappearing act when Duzayan’s chair scraped behind me.
“Wait.”
The baron had proven himself an exceedingly treacherous man, so I did not yet allow myself to entertain any sense of victory. I would need all my considerable wit about me to win this battle. Fortunately, some of that wit was already in motion. Plenty of people in the crowded market had proven quite willing to accept a free melon from a generous crazy man—though I much doubt Tanris would take kindly being called such—and dozens of replicas of my sack peppered (ha!) the marketplace already, just as planned. Slowly, I turned back to Duzayan.
He stood, fiddling with something at his waist, his expression truly frightening. Around me, little huffs of wind tugged at my hair and clothes.
Wizard! Wizard! the Ancestors whined and squirmed. Why did we insult a wizard?
I had warned them. My attention skipped to Brute, who had his sword half drawn and determination writ all over him. I hoped he would not come after me, but I was prepared to run and, being experienced as well as clever, I had a plan. Plans within plans, even. I had, after all, had months to consider all the dark and twisted ways Duzayan might thwart me. I could not know exactly what he would do, and so I would have to be as difficult for him to catch as the wind.
He studied me narrowly.
The residue of pepper in my belly—perhaps I had eaten too many of them—made my gut spasm again, and I clenched my arm against it. Such nonsense might complicate the idea of running. Finally, the wizard held something out. A crystal vial glimmered in the reflected light of the lamps around the marketplace.
“Put it on the table,” I instructed.
“So untrusting.” He did as I said, and moved back when I made a little shooing motion, though Brute snarled at me. He did a very respectable job, too, quiet but full of promise I did not take lightly. On the bright side, the table remained between them and me.
“Let me think,” I pondered, cautiously advancing to take the vial. It made my fingers sting and I quickly dropped the thing into the pouch at my waist. He’d attached a spell to it. I knew he would. No doubt he meant to follow me, but I had a plan for that. “You’ve given me exactly zero reasons to trust you and you’re deeply in the debt column where it comes to reasons to like you.”
“You should take the dose right away. You don’t look very well, Crow.”
“No doubt. All of it at once?” I asked, and as he nodded I backed away. Brute edged around the table after me. Duzayan made a little motion with his fingers and another prickle ran over my skin. “Don’t,” I warned, and held my sack out to one side. “I won’t just drop it, I’ll smash it to bits.”
“Shall we meet here again tomorrow? The same time?”
“I’ll let you know. If this doesn't work the way it ought, you can kiss your—well. Whatever fits.” The fury growing in him should perhaps have frightened me, but something more underlaid that, and it drew my curiosity. I thought I recognized appreciation, but it was probably my imagination. I could spare no time for puzzling it out. Spinning away, I darted into the crowd.
Duzayan shouted.
The Voices whistled and—something I had not taken into consideration—whipped wildly through the market. Sudden chaos ensued and, standing at the center of the commotion, Duzayan wouldn’t look particularly innocent, and wasn’t that a pity?
I did not look behind me. I sprinted between tables, vaulted a low railing, and ran straight toward the candlemaker’s shop, which set my course at a slight angle away from the cart where Tanris dispensed his melons. Girl waited in the place we’d arranged, a bright red scarf tied to her head like a beacon. As soon as she knew I’d spotted her, the scarf came off and fluttered to the ground to be trampled underfoot. I bumped into her deliberately, handing her the sack with the egg while I took her m
elon, then careening off into the wild tangle of stalls that made up the ever-changing scenery of the market while Girl dodged away down an alley to whisk the egg to safety.
I took a quick glance back as I rounded one of the three-walled stalls. Brute pounded after me. Just as expected, a dozen or so of Duzayan’s minions loomed into view, having previously hidden in the crowd until their master called upon them. I zigzagged this way and that, coming around in a semi-circle until I was more or less behind Brute and his cronies and the panic they left behind. Ducking out of view beneath a cart piled high with fruit, I peeled off my tasteful blue tunic and stuffed it out of sight atop the wagon’s axle. I had another shirt on beneath it, rough gray and quite common looking. From the bag Girl gave me I drew a hat and shoved it on my head, then I took a quick look around.
The Minions grabbed my unwitting accomplices left and right to check the contents of their sacks. You can be certain such action did not win any accolades from the populace. A high wind whipped through the gardens and a section of the market bordering them. Tent flaps, flags, banners, and textiles randomly wrapped around the faces and limbs of the pursuing Minions. Praise be to the god of strange legacies. I could not see Duzayan, which made me ill-at-ease but was not at all unforeseen. If he’d been conniving enough to catch me, he was clever enough not to get himself caught in the middle of the busiest marketplace in all of Marketh.
From the pouch at my waist I withdrew the new vial Duzayan had given me and another a little big bigger. It hurt to hold his, and I worked quickly, transferring the liquid from one to the other. Sharp little green sparks stabbing at my fingers only complicated the job, but I have performed successfully under more strenuous circumstances. Swiftly, I tucked my vial back into my pouch and wriggled from beneath the cart to pitch the wizard-cursed crystal high into the air toward Duzayan’s last position.
I was not quick enough.
I still had my arm up when the demon dove at me from out of nowhere. Well, not “nowhere,” exactly. We all know perfectly well it was there at Duzayan’s behest, and I am sure you realize I had planned for just such a contingency. Even so, it came as something of a shock. Clawing, beating at me with its leathery wings, shrieking fit to wake the dead as well as the City Watch—the latter of which, to my dismay, arrived somewhat tardily on the scene.
I had very much wanted to garb myself in thick leather or armor against such an eventuality, but that would have looked a trifle out of place. The demon sank its claws into the flesh of my arm which, while it made me shriek right back, was thankfully not my face, which is generally their preferred target. I swung my arm hard at the side of the wagon and succeeded in cutting off another wail, but the thing hung on like—well, like a demon. As you can imagine, I had no desire at all to waste time with the wretched thing. Aside from being annoying and inflicting pain, demons had the unfortunate habit of drawing attention to one like a bonfire in the middle of the textile district, and I didn’t want that, either. But forewarned is forearmed, and while I could have used four arms about then, I settled for rapidly beating the little beast breathless. Their tough hides turn aside most blades and they are extremely hard to kill or I’d have done it in a heartbeat. Grabbing a small fruit from the cart, I crammed it into the demon’s mouth and succeeded in temporarily gagging it. Upending my burlap sack, I sent the melon rolling and wrapped the bag around my arm to conceal the nearly senseless demon. Right after having them screaming an ear-splitting alarm, there is nothing quite so obvious an indicator of guilt as having a demon decorating one’s person.
Even with all the other chaos going on, the noisy beast had garnered a share of the attention. Four wide-eyed spectators gaped at me. I promptly reached into my pouch to disburse some more of Baron Duzayan’s wealth. I did not give it to them, no, I tossed a handful of the glittering coin into the air and left them scrambling for it while I ran. By now the crowd swirled wildly in all directions, so it was easy enough to adopt one of the fleeing throng and “help” him escape to safety. A middle-aged fellow of some girth, he never noticed how I kept him between me and the tardy City Watch.
Abandoning my shield at the mouth of a convenient, albeit somewhat crowded alley, I surveyed the score or so people dashing its length. With no Minions in immediate view, I put on some speed. You will appreciate the fact that I had not only to get completely out of range of Duzayan’s men, but to rid myself of a demon that would shortly regain consciousness and the use of his considerable lung power. My impromptu traveling companions seemed set on keeping to the straightest route away from the marketplace. Unencumbered by such narrow logic, and extremely averse to taking such an obvious direction, I ran along with them for a couple blocks and then ducked into a little space between buildings.
The demon squeaked and dug its ugly little claws into my arm. I reciprocated by smacking it two or three times against a wall. When it was quiet again and my arm satisfactorily numb (a better alternative than debilitating pain), I headed down the passage. It took a turn that plunged me into nearly absolute darkness, and I had to grope my way along. The noise from the marketplace was thankfully muffled. I touched my hand to my chest, pressing the Mazhar medallion against my skin.
“Hello?”
Hurry. Not safe. Pursuit...
While dying in the attempt to be heroic might sound tragic and romantic, it was also premature; we still had a villain to destroy. “I know. I need some of you to go make sure Girl is all right. And Tanris,” I added.
One of the unfortunate side effects of having a bit of a breather was in becoming aware again of the other side effect: namely, the abundance of pungent Yudizan peppers I’d consumed. My lips, throat and belly burned. I came around another turn, relieved to see light at the end of the narrow way. What I really wanted was a nice mug of soothing milk, and you could bet I would find a place to acquire one just as soon as I had gotten completely away. I had no sooner made the end of the passageway when a dark shape blocked it. There are times when I wonder what lessons the gods feel I must learn. This was one of them.
“Well, well, well...” a familiar voice drawled. I could not immediately place it and dim quarters provided no help. “Look what we have here.”
“What is that, boss?” asked a second voice. “A mockingbird? A jay?”
“Rooster, maybe. Where have you been, bird boy? I’ve been looking for you.”
Every word brought me closer to recognition until—“Oh, it’s you, Raza. What a thrill to see you again.” Rather like meeting the tax collector or one of the city watch.
“You owe me.” He came into the little alleyway and I retreated.
“I doubt it, but how much are you imagining to gull me for?”
“Oh, a life. Maybe several.”
“Sorry, not handing out lives today.” Whirling about, I dashed back the way I had come, Raza Qimeh and the stalwart Yahzir hot on my heels. So hot, in fact, that I didn’t quite make it around the first bend. Raza’s hand in my tunic jerked me backwards and when I twisted to shed myself of it, his fist clipped my jaw. Stars blinded me as he shoved me bodily into the brick wall.
“Did you really think you were going to get away from me?” he asked, as though I hadn’t already done so enough times to have lost count.
“Still do.” The gods would present a way.
“Definitely a rooster,” Yahzir decided. “Can I hit ‘im, boss?”
Of course he couldn’t. Not there in the narrow alley, anyway. Raza did it for him, smashing a fist into my gut. I would have warned him, but he gave me no opportunity, and in a heartbeat he was wearing what remained of the contents of my belly. I would much like to have taken a moment for self pity, but I hadn’t time to spare. Raza staggered backward into Yahzir and I, more or less holding onto him, went with. All three of us went down in a pile and look! I was wearing a demon! Semiconsciousness had loosed its grip a little, but it still tore my arm as I ripped it free and thrust it into Raza’s face. It shrieked. Raza shrieked. Yahzir hollered and push
ed at both of us—and I scrambled to my feet to hightail it down the alley. Around the corner the passageway narrowed enough that I could scramble upward, feet braced to either side and bloody fingers searching for purchase in cracks and protruding bricks. It was a feat I’d performed many, many times, but I was so shaky that I feared I might not make it. The other two—three, counting the demon—made such a racket they didn’t hear whatever noise I made as I struggled upward. I threw myself over the edge of the roof just as they fought around the corner. The noise of the demon of course attracted immediate attention. There came shouting and the clatter of weapons, Raza’s bellows of innocence, the demon squawking...
Laying under the pale starlight, I held my bleeding arm against me and waited for the noise below—and my stomach—to settle. The gods do love me. They’d not only helped me to acquire the antidote for Tanris, but to escape the marketplace as well as Raza, then arranged for Raza to be jailed into the bargain. What man was more blessed than I?
— 33 —
Not the Way It Was Supposed to Go
Tanris and Girl were both waiting for me by the time I returned to my apartment. Girl catapulted herself into my arms and hugged me tight, nearly knocking me back into the stairway. “Ow… ow…” got her off me in a hurry, and then she dragged me into the kitchen to tend to my wounds. Tanris, impatient as always, wanted to know if I had the antidote.
As the Crow Flies: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Page 41
