Выбрать главу

“They say the Shadow is spreading its wings over the world, sir, and that the last days are near and that this is a sign. The graveyards are emptying, and the sun will soon go out. Now’s not the time to grudge a man a bite of horse.”

“You bite this horse and he will most likely bite you back. A vicious tempered brute he is.” She hoped they would take the hint. She disliked senseless killing. She supposed she could just put her spurs to the beast and ride them down, but there were risks in that as well.

“Have you seen these walking dead men?” she asked.

“No but we’ve met those that have.” At least they were more honest than some.

“They say it’s the Light’s punishment on us for letting the Queen die,” said the sicker looking one.

“I heard it was punishment for her murdering her old father and trying to seize the throne away from Prince Khaldarus. He’s the rightful heir, after all.”

So even two such as these were caught up in the currents of the civil war. It seemed Sardea’s agents had done their work well.

“He’s the only heir now,” said the other, “so I guess we are stuck with him, unless the Taloreans kill him too and put one of their own on the throne.”

“Bastards wouldn’t have dared try something like that when the old King was alive. General Koth would have sorted them out.”

Tamara wanted to say Koth had been in his grave for over a century, but she doubted it would do any good. The Kharadreans had all sorts of legends about their great human General. Doubtless he was expected to return and save the kingdom momentarily.

“You’re right,” she said, just to mollify them. “They would not have dared. Now if you would just step aside I will be on my way.”

For a moment, she thought they were going to try and block her, and that she was going to have to ride them down. From the expressions on their faces, she guessed that they thought that too, at least for a moment, before their fear and fatigue won out and they stepped aside from her path.

“Good luck on your travels,” she told them as she set her mount in motion along the muddy road.

“Don’t let the walking dead get you,” shouted the sicker-looking one of the pair. His good wishes seemed heartfelt and she felt oddly grateful to him for them, even if he was only a human.

The stink of cheap perfume and tobacco hit Rik as soon as he pushed through the heavy wooden doors of the Nag’s Head. A dozen rouged faces turned to look at him, but his clothes were threadbare, and his manner down at heel. No self-respecting whore would take him for a likely prospect, but that did not stop a few of the more broken down ones sidling closer till he shook his head and pushed them away. Business must really be bad.

“Look who’s here,” said Weasel. No amount of grime or badly patched clothing could deceive his keen eyes. “Slumming again, eh?”

“Halfbreed!” boomed the Barbarian. “Could not keep away from the old company eh?”

The cheeriness in his voice showed he had drunk just enough to be overly friendly, and not quite enough to be violent. Before they could say anymore, Rik slid into the booth and shouted for a beer.

“I’m surprised they are letting you out of the Palace these days,” said Weasel, in a voice low enough to show that he had least understood the need to be discreet. On the table in front of him was a deck of cards, with which no doubt he was about to cheat the rest of the lads out of their wages.

“Yes, after the Queen got it…” Weasel’s elbow in his gut cut the Barbarian off from whatever indiscretion he was about to bellow.

“I snuck out,” said Rik, “and I don’t think this is the time or place to be shouting about from where.”

The Barbarian looked surly. “Then what is it the time and place for?”

“There’s an Inquisitor in town.”

“I know,” said Weasel. “We saved him from some walking corpses.”

“I don’t need to remind you about the book business back in Redtower and what followed at Achenar.”

“No indeed — a profitable business it was,” said the Barbarian.

“One that could get us all burned at the stake if it came to light.”

“If you came all the way down here just to remind us of that, you could have saved yourself a trip,” said Weasel. “We won’t be bringing it up with him even if he drops in for a beer.”

Rik paused for a moment and gathered his thoughts. “I came to warn you. If I disappear into the dungeons, be ready to run. You might not get much warning so keep an ear open and an eye out.”

“You wouldn’t tell on us, would you?” The Barbarian sounded almost childishly disappointed by the thought.

“He might not have a choice if they are applying red hot pliers to his nadgers,” said Weasel thoughtfully. Rik studied them carefully, measuring their response. They would tell no tales and they did not move in circles where the Inquisitors were likely to find them, but you never knew. He had done what he could by letting them know. He had no plans to be taken by the Inquisition but if it happened at least he had warned them.

“Have you heard we’re moving out?” Weasel asked. Another question hung in the air unasked, and Rik thought he’d better give them an answer.

“Yes. I suspect Asea and I will be going with you. The army will need all the sorcerers it can get if it’s going against the Sardeans, and she’s the best we’ve got.”

“Will give me something nice to think about while we’re on the march,” said the Barbarian. “Any chance of fixing us up?”

Rik shook his head. In any other man, the Barbarian’s lust for Asea would be a joke, but as far as Rik could tell, the northerner was too stupid for that.

“Want to keep her all to yourself, eh? Can’t say I blame you.”

The beer arrived and Rik took a swallow. It was not as good as he remembered, perhaps because he had become more accustomed to the fine wines available at the Palace.

“Anything else to report?” Weasel asked. “Being pursued by the hounds of Shadow? Got on the wrong side of the Old Gods? Been found in bed with the Arch-Templar’s pet goat?”

“So far I have avoided all of those things.”

“Probably just as well. A man should only bite off as much trouble as he can chew.”

“I never went looking for trouble. It just seems to find me.”

“Everybody has a gift, so they say. That seems to be yours. Fancy a game of cards?”

“With you? That’s one sort of trouble I have sense enough to avoid.”

“Some good girls in here,” suggested the Barbarian helpfully.

Rik shook his head. “I’d best be heading back.”

“Well, good to see you, and thanks.” There was a sincerity in Weasel’s voice that surprised Rik. “Watch your back.”

“You too,” he said, and headed for the door.

As he stepped into the muddy street, Rik bumped into somebody. Instinctively his hand went to his purse. When he found it was still present, he stepped back.

“Sorry,” he said, surprised to find himself face to face with a crying woman, and even more surprised to find that he recognised her. “Rena?”

“Rik,” she said, wiping her eyes, and setting her face to hardness. They had been lovers once, briefly, before she had taken up with Sardec, and he had become an agent of Asea. He found the sight of her still made his stomach clench. He was not a man who took betrayal well. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, almost managing to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I had heard you were living with Sardec.”

“And I had thought you risen too far in the world to be hanging out in soldier’s taverns.” There was a touch of acid in her manner that he did not like.

“I see you have not,” he said. “Trying to earn a little on the side, are we?”

To his surprise she started to cry again. It was not something he was prepared to deal with. She reached out and clutched his arm. He took a step back.