"The city?"
"Hardest place, for them to find me, even if they track me down."
He nodded. "Very well. Now, for getting you there—"
"A boat?"
"Yes, exactly. I can arrange that. When—"
"Tonight."
"Yes!"
"Shut up"
"Then all that remains is deciding now to get you out of here."
"Meehayi will help. Ask him."
He nodded. "All right. When shall we say?"
"Two hours after sunset."
"Agreed. I will be here with Meehayi, and the boat will be ready."
"Look at me, Father Noij."
He did. "Yes?"
"Look me in the eyes, and swear by the Demon Goddess that you will not betray me."
He looked like he was trying to decide if he should get angry, but things were moving too fast for him. After a moment to salve his pride with a scowl (not bad, for an amateur), he said, "I swear by name of Verra, the Demon Goddess, that I will carry out our agreement, and I will not betray you, or may the Goddess take vengeance upon my immortal soul." Then he nodded to me. "I trust that will do?"
"Good enough," I said.
He sniffed and left; Meehayi came in before the door had time to close. "Lord Merss! Are you—?"
"Vlad," I told him. And, "I'm all right," I added, with only a hint of weakness in my voice so I wouldn't have to answer any embarrassing questions just then.
He fussed over me and puttered around the room looking for something to do, then remembered the stew, and asked if I could eat. I allowed as to how I could, so he got me food, and then busied himself cleaning up the mess on the floor. Loiosh and Rocza hadn't left much for him to do. I announced I needed to rest, and he didn't like the idea of leaving, but finally did.
When he had gone, Loiosh said, "It isn't that I'm not pleased, Boss, but do you trust him?"
"Meehayi?"
"The priest.”
"Oh. Yes, I trust him."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not giving him enough time to come up with a justification for betraying his oath.”
"You're sure that will work?"
"Yes."
"Are you lying?"
"I prefer to call it exaggerating."
"Well, if anything does go wrong, Rocza and I—"
"Won't be there.”
"Um, what?"
"I haven't explained your part in all of this"
"I can hardly wait."
"You're going to love it."
"Are you tying?"
"I prefer to call it irony."
"All right, let's have it."
"Second, you'll be following Orbahn after he bolts."
"Uh, what's first?"
"You're going to watch it happen, so I can enjoy it."
"Boss, is this going to work?"
"You'll know when I do."
"What if it doesn't?"
"Then I come back and try something else."
"Boss—"
"Let's not worry about the what-ifs right now, all right? It's time for Rocza to do her part so she can be back here while you're doing yours, or at least soon after. She'll be all right?"
He didn't answer me, but she stood and flew out the window like she knew what she was about. In three minutes, Loiosh told me Orbahn had been found, right in the Pointy Hat, or Inchay's if you prefer, right where I'd first met him. As long as no one noticed her little head peeking through a corner of the window, we wouldn't be losing him. And he didn't, at least as far as she could tell, seem to be upset, alarmed, or have any idea of what was about to happen.
Good.
"All right, Boss. When should I leave?"
"Now. Things should be starting any time. As soon as you pick up Orbahn, Rocza can come back here, as we agreed. And if everything works perfectly, you might even be back before they come to get me."
"When was the last time everything worked perfectly?"
"Go."
He went.
I went over things in my head, trying to see if I'd missed anything, if there were big holes in the plan, or little things that might improve the odds. I couldn't come up with anything, and there probably wouldn't have been anything I could do about it if I did.
We would see. Very soon.
"Okay, Boss. I'm there."
"You know what to do."
"Yeah, Boss. Ready when you are."
"Go," I said.
I relaxed, closed my eyes, and opened my mind to him.
Presently, there came visions.
interlude
I let the breeze take me up over the top, and there is a perch— too narrow to let my feet flatten, but too wide for a comfortable grip. It hurts, but there I stay and watch and wait. Food on four legs walks by below me, as do people, young and old, and I wait—
This is where it will happen, if it happens. Here, right here. It will or it won't; I will it to will.
—it happens quickly; I leave my perch and make a slow circle, so he/I can see better. Fighting men—
Soldiers
—too many to count—
Thirty or thirty-five
—moving around all over—
Some covering the rear; the captain seems cold and efficient, knows his stuff
—door knocked in, things flying, wood chips everywhere, nice! A few people gather to watch—
Pouring in neatly and efficiently; not a lot of room for mistakes. Good.
—no door, may as well see if I can fly in and watch the fun—
"Careful!"
—hee, yeah, good times! No blood, though, just—
Yes, make them lie on the floor. I'd rather kill them all, but I'm just in that kind of mood.
—lots of shouting and yelling—
Threats of repercussions, but I wish them luck with that. Unless the witches take a hand, and they'll have their own problems soon.
—and there's the one, arms held behind him, ohhhh, fangs deep, deep in—
"No!"
—not protesting, wants to tear and bite and rage, know that feeling, me too—
Yeah, the bastard is glaring. Poor son-of-a-bitch. That's right, grit your teeth and demand to see the Count. See the Count? You want to see the Count? I am Vladimir, Count of Szurke by the grace of Her Imperial Majesty Zerika the Fourth; you can see me, you low-life son of a thrice-poxed street whore. We'll see how that works out for you.
—now, finally exchanging words with a man, harsh words, nearly spitting—
The captain is doing his job—well, okay, my job—he ignores the complaints and gives the order for Chayoor to be taken to the manor—
—He walks between two others—
Looking absurd as he tries to keep his dignity
—out the door—
To the manor, and onto the next act of our little play. If he even makes it that far.
—There's an open window, so out and around, stay close to the building, and far above eye level, because they hardly ever look up. There they are, walking toward a big clunky machine with four horses in front of it—