I pulled the bag free and shoved it into his face. One thing you can say for cardoons, the buggers in their natural state are spiky as hell, and a faceful of them judiciously applied is no joke. He cursed and lashed out. The knife he was holding sliced through my tunic, cutting my upper arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mate stagger to his feet and come at me from the side, knife held level, swearing blue murder…
Oh, shit.
Someone shouted. The first guy stopped and looked round. Then he was reeling backwards holding his head while whoever had hit him went in to finish the job with a vicious swipe of his stick to the ribs. There was a dull thunk, and I thought I heard bones crack. The guy screamed and staggered away at a run, clutching his side.
Meanwhile, his pal was having serious problems of his own. There were two newcomers, and the second had grabbed him by the arm, spun him round, grabbed him by the belt and thrown him hard against the street-side wall. He hit it head-first with a sickening crack, dropped his knife and collapsed in a huddle on the pavement. It was suddenly very quiet.
I straightened. Yeah, well, maybe someone up there did have time for half-assed purple-stripers after all. It’d been a close thing, though.
‘You okay, friend?’ The first guy — the guy with the stick — was coming over.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. More or less.’
‘Let’s look at that arm.’ Before I could say anything, he’d pulled back the tunic sleeve and was examining the cut. It hurt like hell and there was a lot of blood, but even I could see that it was only a flesh wound. ‘Just a scratch. Caught you with the edge on the upswing. You’ll live.’
‘Seems like it, thanks to you, pal,’ I said. ‘Good thing you came along. They had me cold there.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He was a big lad, late thirties, with arms like a blacksmith’s. The first mugger had been lucky to get off with a busted rib and a cracked skull. ‘Any time.’
‘This one’s had it, Sextus.’
I glanced across. His mate was kneeling beside the second knifeman. Right: I could see that for myself. The chances of anyone with a head that shape still being a viable commodity were zilch.
The first guy grunted. ‘See me weep,’ he said. ‘Leave the bastard for the Watch.’ He turned back to me. ‘Bloody stupid, that, wasn’t it, sir? You often do your shopping after dark?’
I grinned. ‘No. And you’re right, it was bloody stupid.’
‘So long as we’re agreed.’ There was no answering grin. ‘Don’t do it again’s my advice. You be more careful next time. Now. Quintus and me’ll see you as far as the chair rank at Public Incline. You won’t have no more trouble, I’ll guarantee that.’
‘Fine by me.’
‘Let’s be going, then.’ He turned and walked off.
‘Sextus and Quintus, eh?’ I said, falling in beside him while his mate brought up the rear. ‘Anything tacked onto the blunt ends?’
The pause was hardly noticeable, but it was there. ‘Sextus Aponius and Quintus Pettius,’ he said.
‘Pleased to meet you. Marcus Corvinus. It was lucky you came along when you did. You live locally?’
‘More or less. Near Pottery Mountain. We were on our way home. Got a stonemason’s yard up by the Trigemina Gate.’
Well, that explained the muscles. The other guy wasn’t any midget, either. ‘You work late. Not that I’m complaining, mind.’
‘Had to wait for a delivery. How’s that arm?’
‘It’ll do.’ I’d been pressing my hand over it to keep the cut closed, and if the bleeding hadn’t actually stopped I wasn’t in danger of draining away any more. ‘So I’m taking you back in the wrong direction?’
‘Look, sir, I told you, no problem, right? Quintus and me, we enjoyed the workout. That right, Quintus?’ He glanced back.
‘Yeah.’ Obviously a man of few words, Aponius’s mate, but with biceps like these he was doing okay. When he’d hit the wall that second mugger had been flying. No wonder his skull had smashed like an eggshell.
We walked on in silence. Finally I could see the torches ahead that marked the small square where the litter rank was. Journey’s end. I reached into my purse. ‘Thanks a lot, friends. Have a drink on me, next time you’re out. And if you let me know more exactly where this yard of yours is — ’
‘Nah. Keep your money for the chair,’ Aponius said. ‘Our pleasure. Just be more careful next time, like I said. See you around, Corvinus.’
And they nodded and walked off, back the way we’d come.
I took the first litter, gave the guys the address, and settled back, trying not to bleed on the cushions.
Interesting, that. One or two aspects of it in particular…
Theorising and contemplation, though, could wait. First I’d have to think what I was going to tell Perilla, because when she saw the state I was in she would hit the roof.
17
I got the litter guys to drop me at the back gate, paid them off and went inside and through the garden to Alexis’s hut. He was still up and waiting: I could see the line of lamplight under the door. I pushed it open.
‘Hey, Alexis!’ I said. ‘Sorry I took… For shit’s sake, you stupid dog, it’s me!’
Owoo-oo-oo! Owowow-oo-oo-oo!
All I had time for was one fast backward step. Not fast enough. Both paws got me square in the chest and I went arse over tip into the rhododendrons.
‘Leave, Placida!’ Alexis pulled at her collar while I tried to fend off the slobbering muzzle. ‘I’m sorry, sir, she’s just saying hello.Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.’ Well, I would be if my cut arm wasn’t screaming in agony. Still, there was no point in complicating matters. I picked myself up while Alexis held the brute clear. ‘How was your day?’
‘Not bad, sir. We had a lovely walk, didn’t we, Placida?’
‘What?’
‘No problems at all. She was as good as gold all the way. I took her as far as the third milestone, let her chase some rabbits among the tombs, like you said. Then when we got home I smuggled her in and fed her and she’s been flat out on the floor ever since.’
‘Ah… Well done, Alexis,’ I said weakly. ‘I knew I could depend on you.’
‘You’re welcome, sir. Same thing tomorrow?’
‘Sure. If you don’t mind.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind at all.’ He scratched Placida’s head. ‘She has a lovely nature.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, right. Uh…goodnight, pal.’
‘Goodnight, sir.’
Bloody hell! Even so, it looked like Operation Ditch Placida had been a resounding success. I fastened on her lead, let her drag me to the garden gate then doubled back round to the front door. Bathyllus was still up, not that I’d expected otherwise, and I sank the first cup of Setinian gratefully while Placida nosed around checking whether our lobby had been invaded by any strange canines in her absence.
Bathyllus must’ve noticed the state of my tunic — there were half a dozen lamps burning in the lobby — but he didn’t comment.
‘Meton’s left a plate of cold meatballs for you on the dining-room table, sir,’ he said. ‘And the mistress is waiting for you in the atrium.’
Bugger. I swallowed: this was going to be tricky. ‘Okay, little guy,’ I said, handing him the bag of cardoons. ‘Pass these on for me, would you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
I filled the cup, took another fortifying gulp, and went through to the atrium.
‘Hi, Perilla,’ I said. ‘Nice evening?’
She looked up from her book. Helclass="underline" four large candelabra fully equipped with lamps. No chance; no chance. Bathyllus had followed me in, too, and he was hovering at the edge of the lamplight like a third actor who’s hoping he’s in the wrong play.