Antsy sighed his regret. She’d been a fine place to rest his eyes, what with her long legs sheathed in those tall leather boots, and that challenging dark gaze she had — almost made him think maybe he wasn’t as old as he knew he was. Now she walks off with the Clawmaster like they was old acquaintances, which, he supposed, they must be. Which made him glad he didn’t try sittin’ down next to her after all.
The streets were crowded that morning as all Darujhistan was out inspecting the aftermath of fallen Moranth munitions and the fires that followed. The damage was not nearly as severe as it might have been thanks to the neighbourhood fire-fighting volunteers and no shortage of pots.
As they walked the streets Topper told Kiska: ‘I was surprised to sense your presence.’
‘And I yours.’
His gaze slid sideways to her. ‘What, may I ask, drew you here — of all places?’
‘A job. All finished now. You?’
‘The same.’
‘What is it you wish to talk about, then?’
The man studied his nails, then straightened the rings on all eight fingers. ‘We’re short personnel. Could always use an experienced hand. What say you? Ever considered teaching? The Academy at Unta perhaps?’
She pushed the too-long fringe from her eyes while she considered. Need a damned haircut before I do anything — and a good scrubbing. ‘I’ll admit I’m interested. Have to think about it, though. Got one last errand to see to. Then I’ll give you my answer.’
Topper bowed, his smile sardonic as ever. ‘Very good. Welcome back to the fold, Kiska.’ And he cut away suddenly to walk off down a side alley. She continued on alone. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves …
The tall iron-studded doors to the Varada estate hung open. Rallick entered to find that the two usual colourfully dressed guards had been joined by a third. All three now tossed dice together, arguing and grabbing at the bouncing pieces. Seeing him, one offered a faintly disturbing grin of gold and silver capped teeth. The second gave a broad lewd wink, while the third actually blushed and bowed deeply to hide his reaction.
Studlock met him at the door. ‘The Mistress awaits upstairs. Perhaps you wish to freshen up before ascending? Scented oils to disguise unwelcome bodily odours? Honey for offending breath?’
Rallick paused to study the man in his gauze wrappings. ‘Ah … no … thank you.’ He moved to go but paused again. ‘Is my …’
Studlock hovered close, hands raised. ‘Yes?’
Rallick backed away. ‘Never mind. Thank you.’
The bedroom was empty, the terrace doors open. He went out and leaned against the rail to look about, but saw nothing. Then his gaze lifted to the lattices and climbing vines that rose to the tiled roof. He took hold of one and gave it a strong pull. It held.
He found her sitting on the peak looking out across the Estate District to Majesty Hall atop its hill. She wore a loose armless shirt and trousers, and was barefoot. Her hair blew brushed by the wind. He sat at her side. In the distance Majesty Hall appeared no different from before. From here only the smoke rising from the ragged woods gave any sign of last night’s assault.
‘I’m glad you stayed away,’ she said. ‘Glad you weren’t taken.’
‘You could have told me more.’
She tilted her head, thinking, her gaze still on Majesty Hall. ‘No. If I’d told you more you would have been tempted to try some sort of work-around and would have failed. This way all that uncertainty forced you to keep your distance.’
‘If you say so.’
She turned a smile on him. ‘I do.’
‘And … the girl?’
The smile overturned into a tight scowl. ‘Sent to her room to think things over.’
‘Some things are the same everywhere, it seems.’
Vorcan nodded her slow agreement. ‘That is so.’ She glanced to him sidelong, pushing back her thick hair. ‘And you? What of you?’
‘I do not need to think anything over.’
He leaned to her and they kissed.
She bumped him with her bare shoulder and together they took in the view for a time. ‘So tell me,’ she said, after the silence, ‘how did he escape us? What was his last trick?’
Rallick’s eyes narrowed and he studied her from their very edges. He slowly shook his head. She cast him one quick look then let go a wistful sigh and rested her shoulder against his.
‘Well … had to try.’
A knock brought Barathol to the door; this time he came without any reluctance as the tapping sounded hesitant, almost respectful. He opened the door to see a worker there, a teamster. The man jerked a nod. ‘Was hired to deliver someone to this house,’ the fellow said.
‘Oh?’
The man motioned to the wagon. Someone was sitting hunched in the rear bed. A great wide figure of a man; he appeared to be studying the space between his feet.
Barathol’s breath caught in his chest and he took one hesitant step out. He approached slowly, silently, until he stood right before the big man, who caught sight of his feet and raised his gaze all the way up Barathol’s figure to his eyes, and a hugely wide smile broke there on his face and he said, ‘Thol!’
Barathol could not answer. He reached out to gently squeeze the man’s arm. Finally, he succeeded in clearing his throat to say thickly, ‘Chaur … welcome back.’
Smiling, nodding, the big man slipped from the wagon bed. He peered around eagerly like a child.
The teamster coughed. Barathol looked at him. ‘Got another job too,’ the man said.
‘Another?’
‘Yessir. On my way here. Was stopped by an odd little fellow. He hired me to take you out to your villa, now. If you wish.’
‘My … villa?’
‘Yessir. East of the city, up in the hills.’
His hand still on Chaur’s shoulder, Barathol turned to the row-house to yell, ‘Scillara! Get the lad! We’re going for a ride!’
In the middle of the night south of the city on the Dwelling Plain Scorch and Leff fought to secure a heavy man-sized bundle to a tripod and barrel winch set up over an open well. They knocked each other’s hands aside and fought and cursed one another as they wrestled with the heavy weight.
Every now and then the bundle, a contorted hunchbacked man wrapped in chains and gagged, exploded in a fit of writhing fury, struggling to escape and cursing them from behind the gag. His mismatched eyes bulged and his big mangled hands clawed at the chains. ‘Shut up, ya evil fiend!’ Leff yelled at the bound man. Then the two ducked and peered round nervously.
‘Quiet!’ Scorch hissed.
‘I am being quiet,’ Leff answered. ‘You be quiet.’ He yanked on the iron hook. ‘Got that on secure?’
‘’Course!’
‘Okay, so, what we do is take hold of the handles-’
Scorch pointed to the barrel. ‘Have to flip the latch thing first.’
‘No — you don’t have to do that. You just ease off on the handles slow like …’
‘No. The latch thingy has to be over.’
The bound man suspended over the well attempted to say something as he slowly spun. He repeated it louder and more urgently.
‘No — I remember succinctly how it went-’
‘Dissinctly. You mean you remember dissinctly.’
‘Don’t you pick apart my language — you just know I’m right.’
The hanging man yelled something unintelligible through his gag.
Scorch gave him a savage push. ‘Shut the Abyss up!’
The man swung and hit the side of the mouth of the well. The jerk shook the chain. The barrel winch rocked and the latch in its teeth slipped with a metallic ping.
The hanging figure disappeared with a hissing of rope as the barrel spun. A smothered roar echoed from the well, ending in a splash.