Blade leaped onto the stern of the barge as the other man reached the bow. The man looked around desperately, as he realized that he was trapped. Then he turned, his lips creeping back from his teeth in a wolf-like snarl.
Blade picked up one of the barge's oars. Holding it like a quarterstaff, he advanced toward his opponent. The man sprang toward Blade with a howl, but he was just a trifle too slow. Blade swung the oar, catching the man in mid-leap. Both the oar and the man's ribs cracked. He smashed down across the railing of the barge, legs inside, head and chest outside. His legs flailed wildly for a moment, then he slipped over the side and into the canal. Blade stepped to the side and looked down. The man was gone, leaving behind nothing but a spreading circle of ripples and a spreading stain of blood on the dark water of the canal.
Blade sheathed his knife and walked back up the street. By now a squad of soldiers and two officers had arrived. The fire was almost out, although three booths had been reduced to ashes. Esseta was being questioned by one of the officers; while the other women and the servants huddled behind her like a flock of chickens.
As Blade strode up, the men and women in the booths and shop windows began cheering, stamping their feet, and waving their hands. Of course, this enthusiasm wouldn't keep the perfumers from submitting a large bill for all the damage done in the fight. Blade knew the merchants of Dahaura far too well to expect anything else. At least the bill would wind up on Kubin Ben Sarif's desk, and he could certainly afford it!
The officers made a good impression on Blade. They were brisk, professional, knew what questions to ask, and kept the perfumers from interfering until Blade had finished his story. Then they interviewed the rest of the witnesses in turn, taking careful notes. By this time another squad of soldiers had arrived, with a donkey cart for the three prisoners. The archer and the beggar were unconscious. The swordsman was wide awake, and the Baran's interrogators would be at work on him before sunset. He did not look very happy at the prospect.
Bit by bit, all the loose ends were tied up except one. What had happened to the intended victim, the merchant with the mail shirt under his robes? Nobody seemed to know.
Blade cleared his throat, in the deferential manner it was always wise for slaves to use with officers of the Baran's army. «Honored sirs, I ask if we should perhaps consider-was the merchant also in disguise, like the man with the knife?»
«Why do you say that?» said one of the officers.
«Would a genuine merchant have worn a coat of mail under his robes-particularly in this quarter of the city, on a day like this?»
One of the officers shrugged. «We shall certainly consider it. But I can't see anything coming of it. I doubt we'll ever see the merchant or the knifeman again. Dahaura can swallow a man who doesn't want to be found as thoroughly as the canals can swallow a body.»
He smiled. «However, there's better news for you-Blade, you said?»
«Yes, sir.»
«Odd name. Anyway, I'd be surprised if the judge doesn't send around a writ of freedom for you after this. You're in Kubin's service? Well, that old tight-purse won't have any complaint. The treasury will handle any claims these merchants may put in, and also your purchase price.»
Esseta laughed. «That will reconcile Kubin Ben Sarif to almost anything.»
«So I thought,» the officer said. «Farewell and good custom, night sisters.» He climbed up beside the driver of the donkey cart and shouted orders. In a minute the last of the soldiers were out of sight, and Blade and Esseta were free to return to the House of the Night's Tale.
Chapter 16
Blade didn't get back to the House of the Night's Tale until nearly sunset. It had been a hot, windless day, and now they were facing the same kind of night.
Kubin Ben Sarif seldom came into the city itself to deal with this kind of affair. He left that to a handful of trusted personal agents, and one of them was on hand when Blade returned. He was a gray-haired man and looked like someone with many years of experience as a soldier or as one of Kubin's fighting men.
Without even giving his name, the man began giving orders. It was Kubin's wish that both Blade and Esseta be properly rewarded-how and in what amount would be decided later. For tonight the House of the Night's Tale would do no business, but both Hashid and Blade would stand guard at the main door nonetheless. All other doors would be locked, and no one permitted through them. He himself would arrange to relieve Blade and Hashid at intervals, so that one of them could get some sleep and still leave two men on guard.
«Does the lord Kubin suspect someone of wishing this house ill?» asked Hashid. He tried to make the question sound completely casual, but didn't succeed. Blade detected something that shouldn't have been there in Hashid's voice. Eagerness, fear, suspicion? He couldn't be sure. He could only be sure that Hashid would bear watching until this affair had blown over.
«Kubin is not worried about people's wishes,» said the older man. «He is worried about the Thieves' families who might feel called on to pay us a visit. He will seek them out, in time, and make arrangements with them.»
Blade couldn't help wondering what those «arrangements» would be. Bribery or murder? Kubin could afford the first, but had no scruples about applying the second if the first failed. Scruples were one thing he could not afford.
It was really Kubin's decision, in any case, and none of Blade's business. His own suspicions of Hashid were another matter-he had to mention them. He did so in the first moment he was alone with Kubin's agent.,
The man looked at him skeptically. «You feel that Hashid is not to be trusted?»
«Not in matters that can mean life or death to lord Kubin's servants, I think.»
«Yet you feel this only because of what you hear in his voice?»
«That, and also because he is an ambitious man. He hopes to rise high, but fears that Kubin has turned against him. He thinks that I have caused this, and so he is my enemy.»
«How do you know so well what is in Hashid's mind, Blade?»
Blade kept face and voice expressionless. «One may learn much from the women.»
The agent laughed harshly. «So one may. Perhaps I also would do well to speak to the women. But not tonight. I cannot imagine that our friend Hashid has any way of doing us harm tonight.»
The first hours of the night passed quietly. It was not common for such a prosperous brothel as the House of the Night's Tale to be unexpectedly closed, but it was not unknown either. Most of the customers who were turned away took it quietly, and Blade had to raise his voice only once. The customers of the House of the Night's Tale knew who owned it, and none wanted to give offense to Kubin Ben Sarif. If he wanted to close down one of his most profitable businesses on any night for any reason, it was not for them to ask why.
An hour after midnight, Kubin's agent came down to relieve Blade on guard duty. Blade did not return to the sleeping loft, but went to a mattress he'd spread on the floor at the foot of the stairs. That way he could sleep within earshot of anything that might happen at the door, weapons at hand. Blade ate some bread and cheese, drank a mug of beer, and lay down fully clothed. No one had come to the door in nearly an hour, so he found it easy to drift off to sleep.