As he punctuated his last three words with three slices of his hand, Rag swallowed.
‘It all just happened so quick. I had to get out. There weren’t nothing I could do.’
‘It happened so quick? Yes, I’m sure. A deadly man, our Nobul Jacks. But I’m wondering; how did he manage to get loose? Know anything about that?’
Rag thought hard. What could she say? What did Friedrik think she knew?
‘That toothless bloke,’ she said. ‘He was taunting the fella in the cellar. Couldn’t keep away. I told him to leave well alone, but he just wouldn’t. Maybe he dropped his keys.’
‘Really?’ asked Friedrik, looking genuinely interested. ‘How clever of you to work that out when I never even mentioned he had a set of keys. How would you know that?’
You and your fucking mouth, Rag.
‘Just a guess. How else would it have happened?’
Friedrik glared at her. It was obvious he knew. Obvious he was just dragging this out for the show.
‘Where is he?’ Friedrik asked, finally.
‘Who?’
‘Nobul Jacks. The man in the fucking cellar.’ He was talking through his teeth now; she’d seen it a dozen times — always just before he stuck something into someone and they screamed and screamed, but he carried on sticking like he couldn’t hear their pain.
‘I don’t know. I just ran. I ran away.’ She could feel tears welling in her eyes. Behind her the lads had stopped with their business and were watching what was happening. Rag knew she’d get no help from them.
‘Where did you run to? Back to his house? He must have been in a bad way, Rag. Did you see to his wounds and then come back here? Where the fuck is he?’
‘I don’t know, I swear it.’
Friedrik reached out and grabbed her arms. His fingers dug in deep and she almost cried out in pain. Almost.
‘You’ve been gone all night and all day. Where have you been? Tell me now or I’ll-’
‘I went to find Merrick!’ she shouted. ‘That Merrick Ryder fella, like you wanted.’
Friedrik’s brow softened all of a sudden. ‘What?’
‘I ran and I was on the streets and I didn’t know what to do and I knew you’d be angry and I went to find that Merrick and he’s meeting me later.’
Friedrik let go of her, a smile taking over his face. ‘Why didn’t you say that in the first place?’ he asked. She stared at him, at his smiling face, wondering what kind of mad bastard just changed on a coin toss like that.
‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ he said. ‘Lead the way.’
THIRTY-FIVE
Kaira waited in the dark. Leofric and Oswil were in their positions at either end of the alleyway, standing in the shadows, cloaks pulled tight about them. Without their armour, all three looked like any other street scum sheltering from the winter cold. It was a risk to be out here unprotected, but they couldn’t chance spooking their quarry. She would have preferred to bring more men, but too many might have given the game away. Besides, she was sure the three of them could handle a bunch of Northgate thugs.
Not that she was even confident they would need to. There was every chance this was a fool’s errand and the girl Rag wouldn’t show. Kaira had fully expected their first meeting to be their last.
She had placed trust in the girl at the time — what else could she do? — but always remembered Rag was a child of the streets. In the few days since Kaira had let the girl walk from the Sentinels’ barracks she had lost all hope of seeing her again. It had been a surprise, then, when Rag suddenly appeared in the night, breathless and fearful. She said the time was right, that she would fulfil her part of their bargain and all she wanted in return was beer and bread and maybe a pie. Kaira had seen to it she had all those things, fully expecting the girl to gorge herself, but instead she had placed the items in a sack. Before she left, they’d arranged this meeting place — a dead-end street in Northgate.
As Kaira stood, waiting on the word of an adolescent waif, she began to feel more and more foolish. Kaira was quick to trust, perhaps too quick, that much was obvious. As a Shieldmaiden she had put all her faith in the Temple of Autumn, in the Matron Mother, in the Exarch. Since then she had learned that her faith had been misplaced, that perhaps the Temples of Arlor and their figurehead, the High Abbot, were as flawed as any other institution. For years she had served as a tool, obeying the word of her superiors without question, even when her own feelings might have swayed her otherwise.
Now, as she stood in the cold, it seemed that blind trust had led her astray once more.
Merrick should have been there — he was, after all, the bait — but Kaira couldn’t stomach being near him. In the past she had risked everything for him, even gambled her life to save his, and what had she got in return?
Nothing.
Still he wallowed in self-pity, finding solace at the bottom of a tankard. Still he cared only about himself. Only now it was worse. His father had returned and Merrick had to deal with his deep-rooted resentment. Not that he faced it head on, like a warrior should. He shied from it, hid from it like a craven. She had seen him fight well enough, and his sword hand was strong. If only his heart could be the same.
To the hells with him anyway. His wallowing had caused Statton’s death and opened Queen Janessa up to sorcerous powers. She would rely on him no longer.
The sound of voices alerted Kaira to someone entering the alleyway. She forgot all about Merrick as her hand strayed to her sword — though she knew that was folly. Her wrist still ached from the wound Azai Dravos had inflicted. She might well be able to draw the weapon from its sheath but she would have been near useless with it.
‘How much farther?’ asked a voice in the distance.
‘Not far now,’ came the reply. Kaira’s heart beat faster. She recognised the voice.
As Rag walked into the scant light Kaira saw she led a group of men, five in all, of varying sizes. Instantly Kaira’s eyes strayed to the biggest of their number, identifying the greatest threat.
Once the group had reached the midpoint of the alleyway, Kaira stepped out into the light of the moon. Rag halted in front of her, but said nothing.
‘What’s going on?’ said one of the men, as they stopped behind Rag.
Kaira watched, assessing the group, giving them a chance to reveal which of them was their leader. As she did so, Leofric came up behind them and Oswil appeared from an alley to the right, both with swords drawn.
The biggest of the bunch looked down at the man to his right, unsure of what to do. The man he looked at, a short fellow whom Kaira had marked as no danger, stepped forward.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, relaxed, calm, unafraid. ‘It’s clear you have no idea who I am, so I’ll give you the chance to leave quietly. Because I have pressing business, I’ll forget this little transgression, just this once.’
As he spoke, the men around him reached for their weapons — knives, clubs, though none of them carried a sword.
‘I know who you are,’ Kaira said pulling back her hood.
By now three of the men had squared off against Oswil and Leofric. The biggest of their number just gaped dumbly at Kaira.
‘You know who I am? Either you’re insane or lying,’ said the little man. ‘I’m Friedrik. As in Bastian and Friedrik? Of the Guild? I assume you’re robbers or killers, so you’ll no doubt have heard of me. And you will no doubt realise you’ll have nowhere to hide unless you piss off out of my way right now.’
‘Your men are free to leave,’ Kaira replied. ‘I only want you.’
Kaira stared at the little man, Friedrik, but remained aware of the hulking thug standing next to him. Even as Friedrik signalled with his hand, even as he said, ‘Harkas, do the honours,’ she still stared at him.