“They’re certainly not worried about being attacked,” said Iridal, accustomed to the walled cities of Volkaran and Ulyndia, whose citizens, continually on the alert for elven raiders, lived in an almost constant state of fear.
“If anything did threaten them, the residents would pack up and head for the fortress. But no, they’re not worried.”
A group of boys, playing at pirate in an alley, were the first ones to take note of them. The children dropped their hargast-limb swords and ran up to stare at them with ingenuous frankness and open curiosity.
The boys were about Bane’s age, and Iridal smiled at them. A little girl, clad in rags, ran up, held out her hand.
“Will you give me money, beautiful lady?” begged the child, with a winsome, pretty smile. “My mother is sick. My father is dead. And there is me and my baby sister and brother to feed. Only one coin, beautiful lady—” Iridal started to reach for her purse, remembered she didn’t have it with her.
“Off with you,” Hugh said harshly. He held up his right band, palm out. The little girl looked at him shrewdly, shrugged, and skipped off, returning to the game. The boys trailed after her, whooping and shouting, except for one, who dashed up the road into town.
“You didn’t need to be so rough with the child,” Iridal said reprovingly. “She was so sweet. We could have spared a coin—”
“—and lost your purse. That ‘sweet’ child’s job is to find out where you keep your money. Then she passes the word to her light-fingered father, who is undoubtedly very much alive, and who would have relieved you of your wealth once you were in town.”
“I don’t believe it! A child like that...”
Hugh shrugged, kept walking.
Iridal drew her cloak more closely about her. “Must we stay long in this dreadful place?” she asked in a low voice, moving nearer Hugh.
“We don’t even stop here. We go on. To the fortress.”
“Isn’t there another route?”
Hugh shook his head. “The only way is through Klervashna. It allows them to get a look at us. Those boys play here for a reason, to watch for strangers. But I’ve given them the sign. One’s gone now, to report our arrival to the Brotherhood. Don’t worry. No one’ll bother us, from now on. But you best keep quiet.”
Iridal was almost grateful for the order. Child thieves. Child spies. She might have been shocked to think parents could abuse and destroy the innocence of childhood. But she recalled a father who had used his son to spy on a king.
“Klervashna,” said Hugh, gesturing with his hand.
Iridal looked about in surprise. From his introduction, she had been expecting a raucous, brawling city of sin—thieves harking in the shadows, murder done openly in the streets. She was considerably startled therefore to see nothing more frightening than young girls driving geese to market, women carrying baskets laden with eggs, men hard at apparently legitimate work. The town was bustling, thriving. Its streets were crowded, and the only difference she could see between it and any respectable city of Ulyndia was that the population appeared to be of a widely varied nature, encompassing every type of human, from the dark-skinned inhabitants of Humbisash to the fair-haired wanderers of Malakal. But even this did not prepare her for the astonishing sight of two elves, who emerged from a cheese shop, almost ran into them, elbowed past with a muttered oath.
Iridal was startled, glanced at Hugh in alarm, thinking perhaps that the town had been conquered, after all. He did not appear concerned, barely glanced at the elves. The human inhabitants paid the enemy scant attention, except for a young woman who followed after them, trying to sell them a bag of pua fruit.[54]
The rulers of Skurvash don’t care about the slant of a man’s eyes, only the glint of his money.
Equally astounding was the sight of well-bred servants, belonging to wealthy estates of other islands, strolling through the streets, packages in their arms. Some wore their liveries outright, not caring who knew the names of their masters. Iridal recognized the coat of arms of more than one baron of Volkaran, more than one duke of Ulyndia.
“Smuggled goods,” Hugh explained. “Elven fabric, elven weapons, elven wine, elven jewels. The elves are here for the same reason, to buy human goods they can’t get in Aristagon. Herbs and potions, dragon’s teeth and claws, dragon skin and scales to use on their ships.”
The war for these people is profit, Iridal realized. Peace would mean economic disaster. Or perhaps not. The winds of changing fortune must have blown through Klervashna often. It would survive, just as legend held it the rat had survived the Sundering.
They walked through the town at a leisurely pace. Hugh stopped once, to buy stregno for his pipe, a bottle of wine, and a cup of water, which he gave to Iridal. Then they moved on, Hugh shoving his way through the crowds, keeping firm hold of “his prize,” his hand over Iridal’s upper arm. A few passersby gave them sharp, inquisitive glances that flicked over Hugh’s stern, impassive face, noted Iridal’s rich clothing. An eyebrow or two raised, a knowing smile quirked a lip. No one said a word, no one stopped them. What one did in Klervashna was one’s own business.
And that of the Brotherhood.
“Are we going to the fortress now?” asked Iridal.
The rows of neat, gable-roofed houses had come to an end. They were heading back into the wilderness. A few children had seen them on their way, but even they had disappeared.
Hugh pulled the cork out of the wine bottle with his teeth, spit it on the ground. “Yeah. Tired?”
Iridal raised her head, looked up at the fortress that seemed a great distance away. “I’m not used to walking, I’m afraid. Could we stop and rest?” Hugh gave this thoughtful consideration, then nodded abruptly. “Not long,” he said, assisting her to sit on a large outgrowth of coralite. “They know we’ve left town. They’ll be expecting us.”
Hugh finished off the wine, tossed the bottle into the bushes at the side of the road. He took another moment to fill his pipe—shaking the dried fungus out of the bag—then lit it, using tinder and flint. Puffing on the pipe, drawing the smoke into his lungs, he repacked the bundle, tucked it beneath his arm, and stood up.
“We best be going. You’ll be able to rest when we get there. I’ve got some business to transact.”
“Who are ‘they’?” Iridal asked, rising wearily to her feet. “What is this Brotherhood?”
“I belong to it,” he said, teeth clenched on the pipe stem. “Can’t you guess?”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t.”
“The Brotherhood of the Hand,” he said. “The Assassins’ Guild.”
26
The fortress of the Brotherhood reigned, solid and impregnable, over the island of Skurvash. A series of structures, built over time, as the Brotherhood grew and its needs changed, the fortress commanded a view of deepsky and its flight tracks, as well as the land all around it and the one meandering road that led up to it.
An approaching single-rider dragon could be spotted at a thousand menkas, a large troop-laden dragonship at two thousand. The road—the only road through the rough land, covered with the brittle-limbed and occasionally deadly hargast trees[55]—wandered through deep ravines and over numerous swinging bridges. Hugh showed Iridal, as they crossed, how a single stroke of a sword could send the bridge and everyone on it plunging into the sharp rocks far below. And if by chance an army made it to the top of the mountain, it would have to take the fortress itself—a sprawling complex, guarded by desperate men and women who had nothing to lose.
55
Bane was nearly killed when the limb from a hargast broke during a windstorm and fell down on him. See