“You’re defending Weaver? Get out of my house.”
“Firstly, it isn’t your house. And secondly I’m not defending him; I’m just saying. There are dozens of things you can blame Weaver for that really are his fault.”
Matilde grunted again. “The zaka fruit rots at the top.”
“Does it?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you just made it up? It sounds like something Words of Wisdom would paint on a wall.”
“Maybe.”
“And what about all the other fruit that doesn’t rot at the top? Talk about cherry picking your homilies to suit your needs.”
Rawk winced when Celeste tied off the bandage.
“You really need to get Sylvia to look at it.”
“It isn’t that bad.”
“It needs stitches.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Rawk glanced at Matilde. “I don’t suppose you want me to stay to protect you?”
“You won’t be any good to me if your arm falls off.” She looked him up and down. “Well, you might be useful for something with only one arm.”
“Mab! I’m right here; I really don’t want to hear you talking about things like that.”
“Are you jealous?”
Celeste grabbed Rawk’s hand and pulled him from the room, closing the door loudly behind them. Rawk pulled free for a moment and looked back inside. “Lock the door behind us. If I want to get in, I’ll knock.”
And Celeste pulled him away.
But Sylvia wasn’t home. The door to the shop was locked and there were no lights upstairs.
“She must still be reading in the library,” Celeste said.
“You don’t need to come with me.”
“I think I do. You will do something silly like not get her to look at your arm.”
“She’s my healer. I get her to look at things all the time.”
“So you want me wandering the streets on my own? With Weaver’s men around looking for trouble?”
Rawk sighed. “Pull your hood up.”
They walked down the hill, avoiding likely trouble spots like large squares and using one of the less iconic bridges. Nobody was going to wage a battle on the old timber boards of Messa Bridge down near the cattle yards.
The streets were quiet. There were noises nearby, around corners, in the shadows, always just out of sight. Rawk kept his hand on the hilt of his dagger and kept wishing for his sword. His eyes darted about, examining each old man that they passed. A troop of soldiers bustled by, heading down towards the river, taking no notice of a couple out for a walk now that the trouble seemed to have passed.
And up the hill on the other side, all the way to the Hero’s Rest.
The front door was locked. Rawk knocked loudly and a few minutes later Mykle called from the other side.
“Go away. Were closed.”
“It’s me. Let me in.”
The door opened a crack and Mykle looked out. The barman was as big as a tree but nervous around people at the best of times. He checked one way, then the next, and opened the door the rest of the way. Rawk slipped in, pulling Celeste with him.
“What’s going on?”
“Waydin led a dozen men in a while ago and herded all the non-humans out.”
“There were non-humans in here?” Rawk didn’t mind, but it would have been unusual.
Mykle shook his head. “Just Biki.”
“They took her?”
Mykle laughed. “Of course not. Travis told them she had already gone home.”
“What about Sylvia?”
“She wasn’t here, I don’t think. They are moving all the non-humans to the south of the river.”
“She isn’t here?” Rawk almost went back out the door, but if Sylvia wasn’t at home then he could spend all night looking and still not find her. She was probably fine. “Where’s Travis?”
Mykle motioned over his shoulder towards the kitchen.
Everyone was in the kitchen. Travis was talking to Kalesie. Kalesie was shouting at Biki. Biki was staring at her shoes. Valen was hiding in a corner. There were some chambermaids and serving girls hiding with him so he was probably having the time of his life. The ostler was standing by the back door, looking very embarrassed, and Natan was fanning himself with a cabbage leaf nearby. There were five other people as well— Rawk assumed they were all residents though he only recognized one of them.
“What’s going on?” Rawk asked.
Kalesie glared at him. “Ain’t none of your business.”
“Travis?”
Travis sighed. “Kalesie doesn’t think I should have hidden Biki from Waydin.”
“Is that all?”
Travis raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter what Kalesie thinks about that, does it?”
“I suppose not.”
“Either she goes or I do,” Kalesie shouted. “And that damn fermi as well. I’ll not have them in my kitchen any more.”
“Go home, Kalesie,” Rawk said. “There won’t be any more cooking to do today anyway.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Travis?”
Travis sighed. “Kalesie, either shut up or leave.”
“But you’d send me?”
“I’m not sending you anywhere. If you shut up you can stay. But neither Biki or Celeste are going anywhere.”
“If I go I won’t be coming back. I’ve had about enough of this place. You’d choose a stinking dwarf over me.”
Travis looked at the dwarf in question. “Biki is the best worker we have.” He said it reluctantly, as if not wanting to admit something like that.
Kalesie stormed over to the door. She grabbed her cloak from the peg and swung it around her shoulders. The drama was lost when it caught the handle of a pot and upended black, greasy water all over the floor. The old woman soldiered on though, fumbling with the clasp for a moment before violently pulling open the door.
“I won’t come back,” she said. “My son’s been asking me to work with him for years.” She looked around, obviously waiting for someone to stop her. The ostler tipped his hat to her. He was probably just being polite— Boke didn’t have a confrontational bone in his body— but Rawk liked to think he was being ironic.
The door slammed and bounced back open, then there was silence in the kitchen.
“Do you think she will be back?” Natan asked.
Travis laughed. “She’ll be back.”
Rawk looked at his arm. “So, how are your stitches these days, Travis? If I don’t ask I’ll get in trouble.”
Celeste was glaring at him.
While Travis worked, Rawk tried to think of something else. He was watching the door when Demon poked his head through the gap.
“Nobody make any sudden moves,” Rawk said. “Valen, find some food for the kitten please.”
The lad did as he was asked and Demon crept in to sniff at the bowl when it was set on the floor. It seemed he like the raw chicken more than he disliked the attention.
Wensday
Rawk sat up in bed and looked around.
“Good morning, Travis. It’s been a while.”
Travis was sitting in the chair reading a newspaper. “It has, hasn’t it? I normally slip away before you wake up.” He smiled.
“That’s just creepy. Now I’m going to imagine you sitting there each night watching me.”
Travis’ smile grew. “Thank you.”
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Rawk stretched carefully. His knee hurt, his back ached and his arm was numb beneath the bandage. Just another morning.
Travis folded the newspaper and threw it onto the bed. “The world is falling apart.”
There was one of the amazingly accurate pictures on the front page. It showed citizens facing off against the City Guard. “This can’t be from last night. It has to be from the day before.” He read the story that went with it. He was mentioned, getting
up on the stage to talk the people out of doing anything silly.
“So there was another riot last night? That’s what set everything off?”
“I guess so.” Rawk skipped through a couple of pages. There was another story about him having dinner at The Sky Tree. It made a big deal out of the company he was keeping. “Do you really think Kalesie will be back?”
“Yes.”
Rawk sighed. “But you aren’t going to let her work again.”
“She’s been here a long time, Rawk. Longer than I have.”
“Well, it’s about time she retired then. Give her a couple of hundred ithel and send her on her way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Is the Rest open this morning?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s a good opportunity for you to find another cook then.”
Travis sighed as well.
“Ask Juskin.”
“Juskin can cook? He’s a man of many talents.”
“I meant ask him to help you look. He works for me now.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever we think he can do. He can help you with the day to day management stuff.” Rawk shrugged. “He is also helping Sylvia. Actually, was she here last night?”
“Not that I know of. I think you should go and find her though; my stitches will hold you together well enough, but it was a pretty bad wound so you should get her to look at it. And give you some medicine.”
Rawk got to his feet and found a shirt on the floor at the end of his bed. He had a sniff then pulled it on carefully. A minute later Travis was following him down the stairs towards the cellar. They discovered Juskin still in the office, sitting in Sylvia’s favorite chair and snoring loudly. He had an open book on his lap and a pile of three more on the floor by his side.
“He’s dedicated,” Travis said.
“He was sitting around reading books on magic; he probably does that for fun at home.”
Juskin snorted, stirred, and came slowly awake. The old man rubbed at his face and made a cursory attempt to straighten his shock of hair. “What is the matter?” he said. He looked around and jumped when the book fell to the floor.
“It’s all happening,” Rawk replied. “The city is falling apart.”
“I said the world was falling apart,” Travis pointed out.
“Right, yes. The world is falling apart.”
“Really?”
“There was another riot. People were killed.” Rawk winced as he remembered his part in the killing. Neither Weaver nor the City Guard were bashing down the door yet, so maybe nobody had seen. Or maybe they were getting reinforcements.
“What does that mean?”
Rawk sat down on the edge of the desk. “I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s going to see Sylvia.”
“She isn’t here. She left not long after you did.”
Rawk looked at Travis. “I went to her place last night but there was no sign of her.”
“She might have been out doing house calls.”
“Perhaps. I’m going to have another look.”
The walk across the city to Sylvia’s place usually seemed like a long way. Today, it seemed like an endless trek. Rawk knew something was wrong, though he didn’t know what. The mood in the streets didn’t help. North of the river, the people were overly jovial, like a nervous youth making too many jokes on a first date. Everyone was on edge, waiting for trouble. South of the river was worse. There was hardly anyone about at all. The streets were almost empty except for troops of City Guard, patrolling warily like men in an occupied city. Rawk saw three troops on his way up the side of Mount Grace. He knew some of the soldiers, but none of them acknowledged him. The few locals brave enough to take to the streets hurried about their business.
When Rawk finally reached Sylvia’s place, he knocked on the door. He went around the back and knocked there as well. He looked up at the windows but there was no sign of life. He looked up and down the street, as if that might be the exact moment she came home. But there was nobody. After several minutes of waiting and hoping, Rawk continued further up the hill and found the gate into Caldera. There were five dwarves sitting around nearby who had not been there the last time he visited. They appeared to be unarmed but they were obviously guards. They watched him closely as he made his way into the tunnel that would take him through into the circular valley hidden at the top of the mountain.
There was another dwarf at the spot where the tunnel took its first turn. He looked up from his whittling for a moment and gave a small nod. Rawk went around the corner, then back the other way. At the far end of the tunnel a dozen men— dwarves, elves, fermi and others, all waited. These ones were armed. There were a score more onlookers milling around nearby.
“Hello, Rawk.”
Rawk looked around for the speaker. He finally spotted Rake amongst the armed men. He normally guarded Thacker, as far as Rawk knew, so this might well be an official guard post.
“Hello, Rake. Did Thacker send you here?”
“Of course. Just as a precaution, so we can escort any of Weaver’s men safely to a meeting.”
“Of course. Where is Thacker?”
“Where do you think?”
Rawk nodded and headed for the nearest tram station. Caldera was much more crowded than the rest of Mount Grace. In fact, it looked as if a lot of the residents from outside had sought the safety of the valley. The tram was crowded and Rawk was forced to hang half out the door as the contraption made its way along the tracks. His injured arm burned.
He jumped off before the tram came to a complete halt and regretted it. His already-sore knee twisted painfully but he tried to ignore it as he hurried across the road to Thacker’s office. There were another dozen guards, dwarves for the most part. They certainly looked like they knew what they were doing. Rawk slowed as he approached. He looked for the leader and was saved the trouble of asking when someone stepped forward.
“We can’t let you in there, Rawk.”
“I need to see Thacker.”
“You are a known associate of Prince Weaver.”
“Well, obviously.”
“So we can’t let you in.”
“Tell Thacker I don’t know where Sylvia is.”
The dwarf wrinkled his nose as he thought. Eventually, he spat onto the perfect cobbles and looked over his shoulder. “Bracken, go tell Thacker that Rawk is here.”
A minute later, Thacker came out the door and strode down the steps. The leader of the guards looked like he was going to have a fit as he hastily tried to rearrange the protection. Thacker ignored the activity.
“What’s going on, Rawk?”
“Have you seen Sylvia?”
Thacker looked around, as if that might be the exact moment she turned up. He shook his head. “No. Should I have?”
“She isn’t at home. And she isn’t at the Rest.”
“Surely she still does other things.”
“Not that I know of. And she would tell someone if she wasn’t turning up when expected. She’s nothing if not thorough. And polite.”
“You’re right, of course.” He gave a decisive nod. “I’ll send some people out to see if they can find her.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know if I see her.”
Rawk headed back the way he’d come. He decided he would go home via Sylvia’s place, just for one more look. But she still wasn’t there.
An old lady was peeking out the half open door of a glass blower’s workshop across the street. “She isn’t there,” she said.
“Do you know where she is?”
“They took her.”
“What? Who took her?”
“The City Guard. They were waiting for her. Grabbed her right off the street and dragged her away. I couldn’t do anything.”
“Of course you couldn’t. Do you know where they took her?”
“How cou
ld I know that?”
“Of course.”
Rawk headed back down the hill as fast as he could. The streets were quiet but half way to the river he saw a goat cab. He waved the driver to a stop and climbed in.
“To the palace, quickly.”
“I can’t go all the way up there,” the dwarf said. “Not today.”
“Right.” He’d probably be arrested on sight. “Just take me as far as you can then.”
He got the goats moving with a soft whistle and soon they were trotting along noisily. He kept looking back at Rawk.
“What is it?”
“There’s a rumor about you.”
“There normally is.”
“About last night.”
Rawk almost said, ‘There usually is,’ but his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t say anything. The dwarf seemed to get the hint, for he fell silent too.
At the bottom of the hill, Rawk shouted for the driver to stop and the dwarf pulled on the reins.
“I thought you wanted to go to the palace.”
“I do. But look.”
Not far away, Clinker was hiding under the porch of a butcher shop. He obviously wasn’t doing a very good job. Rawk called out to him and the lad grabbed his satchel and hurried over.
“You’re rattling again,” Rawk said as he shifted over to make room on the seat.
“Kikum stole my blanket.”
“I thought you weren’t fiends with him any more.”
The driver got the cab moving again.
“I’m not. I think he’s still allowed to steal my stuff if he isn’t my friend.”
Rawk sighed. “What else did he take?”
The lad shrugged. “I had some new shoes. I think he was looking for my money though.”
“Sylvia still has it?”
Clinker nodded.
“Good lad.”
The goats trotted along the edge of the canal— deep and empty and seemingly perfectly smooth— for quite a way before turning onto a bridge.
“My brother helped design this bridge,” the driver said, breaking the long silence. The pride was obvious, but Rawk wondered if he would have been just as proud had some random dwarf designed it. As long as it was a dwarf. “The two bits fold up so boats can get underneath.”
Clinker smiled. “I already told him that, Harris.”
An Army of Heroes Page 12
