He went back into the bathhouse and quickly changed the brown robe for his own damp black one.
‘We don’t wait for the Aeireanns. We do it now.’
CHAPTER 23
IMPORTANT MEN NEVER lived in the lowest part of town. It was a truth that Va had seen again and again. They somehow believed that altitude gave them status, and they sought out the tallest tower or the highest peak to better look down at the mortals below. In turn, the little people had to shield their eyes and crane their necks to catch sight of their masters. It was political architecture, designed to preserve and reinforce power.
It made it absurdly easy to remove the ruling class of a city. Va had done it before, creeping from one well-appointed house to another, slipping in from a balcony designed for show or a wide tower window, leaving behind him a grisly trail of misery and confusion.
To find the king and his new adviser, Va had looked up, up, until he found the stone tower overlooking the foul-smelling workshops turned over to alchemical practices. Such was their confidence that they had no enemies within the walls, there were no guards.
Va and Elenya passed silently through the deserted sheds, stopping to inspect the barrels of white salt, yellow powder, black dust, and the half-finished tubes waiting for their packing of metal arrows. The door of ill-fitting planks allowed Va to squint out at the base of the tower.
‘There’s a light in the top window. That’s where he’ll be.’
‘Alone?’
‘Probably.’
‘And if he’s not?’
‘I’ll have to improvise.’
‘I won’t stop them from killing you.’
‘You already have.’ Va slid a coil of rope over his head and one shoulder.
‘A moment of weakness. No one should have to die like that.’ Elenya looked through the door herself. ‘It doesn’t look easy.’
‘I’ve climbed worse.’ He rubbed his fingers in the dust and kicked off his sandals.
‘Who would have thought that your former profession would come in so handy?’ she said wistfully. ‘You’ve renounced violence, but not sneaking in through windows.’
‘King Ardhal won’t let me have the book now. His mind’s been corrupted.’ He slipped the latch and eased the door open a fraction. ‘All I can do now is take it.’
‘And Akisi too.’
Va pulled the door back shut. ‘What?’
‘You’re going to have to either kill him or kidnap him. You can’t leave him here, even if you do get him to tell you where the other books are.’ She blinked in the darkness. ‘You don’t think he’s going to stop making these weapons for the king just because you’ve stolen his book back, do you?’
‘I . . .’
‘You did. Don’t be such an idiot, Va. You’re obsessed with the books when it’s not the books you have to be worried about. It’s what’s in them that’s important, and that’s now in Akisi’s head. Do you know what else he can build? I don’t, but I wouldn’t want to be around when he does. Finish him while you have the opportunity.’
Gnawing at his fist, Va pulled a variety of faces. ‘I won’t commit an act of violence on him.’
‘It would have been so easy before, wouldn’t it?’ said Elenya. ‘A knife at his throat, dig it in, twist it round. And when he broke, gabbled out all he knew, drive it home, up into the brain. Or side to side, making his throat gape and suck air as he bleeds.’
His hand was shaking. ‘I won’t. I can’t.’
‘You do what you have to do. I won’t tell the patriarch.’
‘But I will.’ He took a series of deep breaths, trying to steady himself.
‘What are you going to do then?’ she hissed.
‘I don’t know.’ He opened the door again and slipped out across the courtyard, ducking through the shadows made by half-formed arrow launchers.
Elenya tried to call him back, but he was already at the base of the tower, exploring the gaps in the stonework with his fingertips. The blocks were hard black basalt: the joints hadn’t weathered much, and there were finger spaces only where they’d been poorly fitted together.
Va would have chosen the door rather than the wall, but he planted two fingers in the wall and wedged them in tight. He leaned back and took two steps up. He was off the ground, and somewhere above him was another handhold he could use, no matter how small.
He spent as much time searching for a grip as he did actually ascending. He was forced to move into the shadow just by the way he had to climb, and after a while he shut his eyes and let his hands see for him. He was a black spider with pale legs, and it would only have taken someone to glance up for him to be discovered.
But the wizard’s tower filled the residents of An Cobh with dread, even the watchmen who were supposed to guard the town’s walls. No one was looking.
His face a mask of pain, Va reached the high window. He stole a peek.
Akisi had his back to him. He was sitting at the table, writing in a book with a quill. He was definitely alone.
Va knew his muscles were starting to lock tight. Another moment and he’d not be able to do anything. He raised one foot onto the window ledge, then worked his shoulders into the space. Akisi carried on his scratchy writing.
He took a moment to recover, then unfolded himself onto the floor. He stretched silently, and he could see the glint of silvery metal over the Kenyan’s shoulder. He remembered the fire, the blood, the cold, the rain, the earth. He remembered the Systema.
From where he stood it was just two steps to the back of Akisi’s chair, and still he didn’t turn round. Va put his right arm across the Kenyan’s throat and squeezed it tighter with his left. He lifted slightly, then pulled backwards to increase the effect.
Akisi’s long-fingered hands came up and tried to dislodge Va’s strangle-hold. He scratched and shuffled for the next few heartbeats, but he was unable to make a sound. Va knew that he’d found the pressure points when Akisi’s arms flopped down, and his whole body went limp.
He could let him die simply by simply standing there and maintaining his hold. He felt the acid rise up in his throat again even as the voices started whispering to him.
‘Oh God, oh God.’ He let go abruptly, instinctively catching the chair as it rocked backwards. Akisi lay on the floor, very still. Va looked at what he’d done – what he’d almost done. He checked Akisi’s breathing and pulse, and decided to turn a moment of sin to virtue.
He had to work quickly. He hog-tied him hand and foot with his rope and gagged him with a strip cut from the hem of his purple cloak. He scanned the desk.
The writing book went into the fire without a second thought. There were some loose papers with it. Some were diagrams, and these joined the flames. One was a map, strange and roughly drawn. He folded it up and tucked in his habit.
The cold metal cover of the User book chilled his hands as he picked it up. This was what he’d come for. The first of twelve. He looked for something to put it in, and found himself staring at the glowing square of cloth hung on the wall. The sight of it, the unnaturalness of it, offended him so much that he snatched at it, ripping it down. The light left the weave immediately, and he was left clutching a bundle of black material eminently suitable for book carrying. He hastily folded the book into the cloth and used more of Akisi’s cloak to tie it closed.
But the room was full of the ghastly works of the Users. The cloth was the least of it. The whole place smelled strange, metallic to the tongue. It had to go. He was suddenly at one with the holy Wreckers: it all had to burn.