Part 3 (2/2)

At the entrance of the Phoenix Inn, Meese nudged Irilta. 'That's it,' she muttered. 'You do the back-up this time. Usual pattern.'Irilta scowled, then nodded. 'Head off, then.'Meese descended the steps and turned up the street. She reversed the route taken by Circle Breaker until she reached the tenement. She saw the old woman still sitting there, lazily watching pa.s.sers-by. As Meese pa.s.sed through her line of vision, the old woman removed the pipe from her mouth and tapped it against the heel of her shoe. Sparks rained on to the cobbles.That was the signal. Meese came to the corner of the block, then turned right and entered the alley running the building's length. A door opened for her a third of the way down and she strode into a dimly lit room with an open door beyond. Someone hid behind the first door but she did not acknowledge that someone's presence. She pa.s.sed through the second, inner door and found herself in a hallway. From there it was a quick jog up the stairs.

Apsalar or Sorry, as she had been known before hadn't been much impressed by her first sight of Darujhistan. For some reason, despite her excitement and antic.i.p.ation, it had all seemed too familiar.Disappointed, Crokus had wasted no time in taking her to his uncle's home once they'd stabled Coil's horse. The journey to the city, and then through its crowded streets, had been, for Crokus, a continual storm of confusion. This woman seemed to have a knack for catching him off-guard, and all he desired now was to throw her into someone else's lap and be done with it.Yet, if that was truly the case, why did he feel so miserable about it?Crokus left Mammot's library and returned to the outer room. Moby chirped and stuck out its red tongue at him from Mammot's desk. Ignoring the creature, Crokus stood before Apsalar, who'd seated herself in the better of the two chairs his chair, of course. 'I don't understand. From the looks of it, he's been gone for a couple of days at least.''So? Is that so unusual?' Apsalar asked casually.'It is,' he grumbled. 'Did you feed Moby as I asked?'She nodded. 'The grapes?''Yes.' He placed his hands on his hips. 'Strange. Maybe Rallick knows something about it.''Who's Rallick?''An a.s.sa.s.sin friend,' Crokus replied distractedly.Apsalar shot to her feet, her eyes wide.'What's wrong?' Crokus asked, stepping close. The girl looked positively terrified. He glared around, half expecting to see some demon rise out of the floor or the cupboard, but the room was unchanged a little messier than usual, though. Moby's fault, he a.s.sumed.'I'm not sure,' she said, relaxing with an effort. 'It was as if I was about to remember something. But it never came.''Oh,' Crokus said. 'Well, we could-'A knock sounded on the door.Crokus brightened, walking over to it. 'Oh, he probably lost his keys or something,' he said.'It was unlocked,' Apsalar pointed out.Crokus opened the door. 'Meese! What're you-?''Quiet!' the big woman hissed, pus.h.i.+ng past him and shutting the door. Her gaze fell on Apsalar and her eyes widened. Then she turned back to Crokus. 'Good I found you, lad! You've seen no one since getting back?''Why, no. That's just it-''A stabler,' Apsalar said, frowning up at Meese. 'Have we met?''She's lost her memory,' Crokus explained. 'But, yes, we stabled Coil's horse.''Why?' Meese demanded, then as Crokus was about to elaborate she went on, 'Never mind. The stabler shouldn't prove a problem. Well, we're in luck!''Dammit, Meese,' Crokus said. 'What's going on?'She met his eyes. 'That D'Arle guard you killed the other night. The one in the garden. They've got your name and description, lad. Don't ask me how. But the D'Arles are talking high gallows when you're caught.'The blood left Crokus's face. Then his head jerked to Apsalar. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. No, she truly didn't remember. But it must have been her. He collapsed into Mammot's chair.'We've got to hide you, lad,' Meese said. 'Both of you, I guess. But don't you worry, Crokus, me and Irilta, we'll take care of you till something can be worked out.''I don't believe this,' he whispered, staring at the wall opposite him. 'She betrayed me, d.a.m.n her!'Meese looked questioningly at Apsalar, who said, 'It's a guess, but I'd say a girl named Challice.'Meese closed her eyes briefly. 'Challice D'Arle, the court's honey these days.' Compa.s.sion softened her face as she looked down on Crokus. 'Oh, lad. That's the way of it, then.'He jerked in the seat and glared up at her. 'It isn't any more.'Meese grinned. 'Right. For now,' she said, arms folded over her chest, 'we just sit tight till night, then it's the rooftops for us. Don't worry, we'll handle things, lad.'Apsalar rose. 'My name's Apsalar,' she said. 'Pleased to meet you, Meese. And thank you for helping Crokus.''Apsalar, huh? Well,' her grin broadened, 'guess the rooftops will be no problem for you, then.''None,' she replied, knowing somehow that she was right in this.'Good enough,' Meese said. 'Now, how about we find something to drink?''Meese,' Crokus asked, 'do you know where my uncle might have gone?''Can't help you there, lad. No idea.'

She wasn't sure about the old woman on the steps, but the one immediately below, tucked into a shadowed niche and steadily watching the tenement building that one would have to be taken care of. It seemed that this Coin Bearer had protection.Serrat was not unduly concerned. Next to her lord, Anomander Rake, she ranked the deadliest among the Tiste Andii of Moon's Sp.a.w.n. Finding this boy-servant of Oponn's had not proved difficult. Once her lord had given her the necessary details, Oponn's magical signature had been easy to find. It helped that she'd encountered it before and from this very boy on the rooftops two weeks past. Her agents had chased the Coin Bearer that night, abandoning him once he'd entered the Phoenix Inn but only at her command. If she'd suspected then what she now knew, Oponn's presence would have ended that very night.Ill luck, Serrat smiled to herself, taking a more comfortable position on the rooftop. They'd move at night, she suspected. As for the woman hiding below, she'd have to be removed. Indeed, with a spell of blurring and enough in the way of shadows, she might as easily take the woman's place.There'd be no suspicion from the other woman, then, the one presently inside with the Coin Bearer. Serrat nodded. Yes, that would be how she'd play it.But for now, she'd wait. Patience ever rewards.

'Well,' Murillio said, as he scanned the crowd, 'they're not here. Which means they're with Mammot.'Kruppe drew a deep breath of the sweaty, smoky air. 'Ah, civilization. Kruppe believes your a.s.sessment is accurate, friend. If so, then we might as well rest here, drinking and supping for an hour or two.' With that, he strode into the Phoenix Inn.A few old hands, seated at Kruppe's table, gathered their tankards and pitcher and left, murmuring apologies and grinning among themselves. Kruppe gave them a gracious nod and settled with a loud sigh into his usual chair. Murillio paused at the bar and spoke with Scurve, then he joined Kruppe.Brus.h.i.+ng dust from his s.h.i.+rt, Murillio frowned distractedly at his road-weary condition. 'I look forward to a bath,' he said. 'Apparently Scurve saw Rallick in here earlier, talking with some stranger. Since then, n.o.body's seen him.'Kruppe waved an uninterested hand. 'Kind Sulty arrives,' he announced. A moment later a pitcher of ale stood on the table. Kruppe wiped his tankard with his silk handkerchief, then filled it with the foaming brew.'Weren't we supposed to report to Baruk?' Murillio asked, his eyes on his friend.'All in due time,' Kruppe said. 'First, we must recover from our ordeals. What if Kruppe were to lose his voice in very mid-sentence of said report? What would avail Baruk of that?' He raised his tankard and drank deep.Murillio drummed the fingers of one hand restlessly on the table, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Then he straightened in his seat. He filled his tankard. 'So now that you know what Rallick and I are up to,' he said, 'what do you plan to do about it?'Kruppe's eyebrows lifted. 'Kruppe? Why, nothing but good, of course. Timely a.s.sistance, and such. No need for blatant fretting, friend Murillio. By all means proceed as planned. Think of wise Kruppe as no more than a kindly chaperon.''Hood's Breath,' Murillio groaned, eyes rolling. 'We were doing fine without your help. The best thing you could do for us is stay out of our way. Don't get involved.''And abandon my friends to the fates? Nonsense!'Murillio finished his ale and rose. 'I'm going home,' he said. 'You can make the report to Baruk in a week's time for all I care. And when Rallick finds out you know all about our plans, well, Kruppe, I'd hate to be in your boots.'Kruppe waved dismissively. 'See Sulty yon? Upon her tray is Kruppe's supper. Rallick Nom's nasty daggers and nastier temper pale to insignificance before such repast as now approaches. Goodnight to you, then, Murillio. Until the morrow.'Murillio stared down at him, then grumbled, 'Goodnight, Kruppe.'He left the bar through the kitchen door. As soon as he stepped into the back alley a figure accosted him from across the way. Murillio frowned. 'That you, Rallick?''No,' the shadowed figure said. 'Fear me not, Murillio. I have a message to you from the Eel. Call me Circle Breaker.' The man strode closer. 'The message concerns Councilman Turban Orr ...'

Rallick moved from rooftop to rooftop in the darkness. The need for absolute silence slowed his hunt considerably. There'd be no conversation with Ocelot. Rallick expected he'd have but one shot at the man. If he missed his chance, his Clan Leader's sorcery would prove the deciding factor. Unless ... Unless ...Rallick paused and checked his pouch. Years back, the alchemist Baruk had rewarded him for work well done with a small bag of reddish dust. Baruk had explained its magic-deadening properties, but Rallick resisted placing his trust in the powder. Had its potency survived the years? Was it a match for Ocelot's powers? There was no telling.He crossed a high rooftop, skirting the edge of a dome. Off to his right and below was the city's eastern wall. The faint glow of Worrytown rose beyond it. The a.s.sa.s.sin suspected that Ocelot would await Coil's arrival at Worry Gate, hiding within crossbow range. Better to kill the man before he entered the city.This limited the possibilities considerably. Lines of sight were few, and K'rul Hill was the best of them. Still, Ocelot might well have used sorcery already, and lie hidden from mundane eyes. Rallick might stumble right over him.He reached the north side of the dome's skirt. Before him rose the K'rul Temple. From the belfry, there'd be a clean shot just as Coll entered the gate. Rallick removed the pouch from his bag. Whatever the dust covered, Baruk had said, would be impervious to magic. More, it had an area effect. The a.s.sa.s.sin scowled. How much of an area? And did it wear off? Most importantly, Baruk had said and Rallick remembered this clearly do not let it touch your skin. Poison? he'd asked. 'No,' the alchemist had replied. 'The powder changes some people. There is no predicting such changes, however. Best not to take the chance, Rallick.'Sweat trickled down his face. Finding Ocelot was already a slim chance. Coil's death would ruin everything and, more, it would strip from Rallick his last claim ... to what? To humanity. humanity. The price of failure had become very high. 'Justice,' he hissed angrily. 'It has to mean something. It has to!' The price of failure had become very high. 'Justice,' he hissed angrily. 'It has to mean something. It has to!'Rallick untied the pouch. He dipped into it and sc.r.a.ped out a handful of the powder. He rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like rust. 'That's it?' he wondered. Maybe it had deteriorated. Shrugging, he began to ma.s.sage it into his skin, starting with his face. 'What changes?' he muttered. 'I don't feel any changes.'Reaching under his clothing as much as was possible, Rallick used up the last of the powder. The pouch itself was stained on the inside. He turned it inside out, then stuffed it into his belt. Now, he grimaced, the hunt continues. Somewhere out there an a.s.sa.s.sin waited, eyes fixed on Jammit's Worry Road. 'I'll find you, Ocelot,' he whispered, his eyes fixed on K'rul's belfry tower. 'And magic or no magic, you won't hear me, you won't even feel my breath on your neck until it's too late. I swear it.'He began his ascent.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This blue city.

hides under its cloak a hidden hand that holds like stone a blade envenomed by the eight limbed Paralt the sting brings death in the span of grief that marks a final breath so this hand defies sorcery's web and trembles the gossamer strand of a spider's deadly threat.

This hand beneath the blue city's cloak drives home Power's gentle balance.The Conspiracy Blind Gallan(b. 1078) Sergeant Whiskeyjack strode to the bedside. 'You sure you're up to it?' he asked Kalam.The a.s.sa.s.sin, sitting with his back against the wall, glanced up from honing his long knives. 'Not much choice, is there?' He returned to his sharpening.Whiskeyjack's expression was drawn and haggard from lack of sleep. He looked across the small room to where Quick Ben crouched in a corner. A fragment of bedroll was clutched in the wizard's hands, and his eyes were closed.At the table, Fiddler and Hedge had dismantled their ma.s.sive arbalest. They now sat cleaning and examining each piece. They were looking at a fight ahead of them.Whiskeyjack shared their conviction. Each hour that pa.s.sed brought their many hunters that much closer. Of those it was the Tiste Andii he feared the most. His squad was good, but not that good.By the window was Trotts, leaning against the wall with his burly arms crossed. And against one wall slept Mallet, his snores loud in the room.The sergeant returned his attention to Kalam. 'It's a long shot, isn't it?'The a.s.sa.s.sin nodded. 'No reason for the man to keep showing himself. They got burned the last time.' He shrugged. 'I'll try the inn again. If anything, someone will mark me and the Guild will come. If I can get a word in before they kill me, there's a chance. It's not much ...''... but it'll have to do,' Whiskeyjack finished. 'You've got tomorrow. If we draw a blank,' he looked over to Fiddler and Hedge and found their eyes on him, 'we detonate the intersections. Do damage, hurt them.'The two saboteurs grinned their antic.i.p.ation.Quick Ben's loud hiss of frustration brought everyone round. The wizard's eyes had opened. He tossed the torn cloth contemptuously on to the floor. 'No good, Sergeant,' he said. 'Can't find Sorry anywhere.'Kalam rumbled a curse and thrust his weapons into their scabbards.'So, what does that mean?' Whiskeyjack asked the wizard.'Most likely,' Quick Ben said, 'she's dead.' He gestured at the cloth. 'With that, there's no way the Rope could hide from me. Not while still possessing Sorry.''Maybe once you told him you'd figured him out,' Fiddler said, 'he tossed in his coins and quit the game.'Quick Ben made a face. 'The Rope isn't scared of us, Fiddler. Come back to earth. If anything, he'd be coming down on us. Shadowthrone must've told him by now who I am or, rather, who I once was. It's not the Rope's business, but Shadowthrone might insist. G.o.ds don't like being cheated. Especially being cheated twice.' He climbed to his feet and stretched the kinks from his back. He met Whiskeyjack's gaze. 'I don't understand this, Sergeant. I'm stumped.''Do we abandon her?' Whiskeyjack asked.Quick Ben nodded. 'Might as well.' He paused, then stepped forward. 'We were all wis.h.i.+ng we were wrong about her,' he said, 'but what Sorry did had nothing to do with being human. And, as far as I'm concerned, I'm glad of that.''I'd hate to think,' Kalam said, from the bed, 'that evil was real, that it existed with a face as plain as the next man's. I know, Whiskeyjack, you've got your reasons for wanting it that way.'Quick Ben moved closer to the sergeant, his gaze softening. 'Keeps you sane every time you order somebody to die,' he said. 'We all know about that, Sergeant. And we'd be the last to suggest there's some other way that maybe you haven't thought of yet.''Well, I'm glad to hear it,' Whiskeyjack growled. He surveyed everyone in the room, seeing that Mallet was awake and watching him. 'Anybody else got something to say?''I have,' Fiddler said, then ducked at the sergeant's glower. 'Well, you asked, didn't you?''Out with it, then.'Fiddler straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. Hedge poked him in the ribs as he was about to begin. After a menacing scowl, he tried again. 'It's like this, Sergeant. We've seen a h.e.l.l of a lot of our friends die, right? And maybe we didn't have to give the orders, so maybe you think it's easier for us. But I don't think so. You see, to us those people were living, breathing. They were friends. When they die, it hurts. But you go around telling yourself that the only way to keep from going mad is to take all that away from them, so you don't have to think about it, so you don't have to feel anything when they die. But, d.a.m.n, when you take away everybody else's humanity, you take away your own. And that'll drive you mad as sure as anything. It's that hurt we feel that makes us keep going, Sergeant. And maybe we're not getting anywhere, but at least we're not running away from anything.'There was silence in the room. Then Hedge punched Fiddler in the arm. 'I'll be d.a.m.ned! You got a brain in there, after all. I guess I been wrong about you all these years.''Yeah, right,' Fiddler said, rolling his eyes at Mallet, 'and who is it who's burned his hair off so many times he's gotta wear some ugly leather cap all the time, hey?'Mallet laughed, but the tension remained and everyone's gaze swung back to fix on their sergeant. Slowly, Whiskeyjack studied each man in his squad. He saw the caring in their eyes, the open offer to the friends.h.i.+p he'd spent years suppressing. All that time pus.h.i.+ng them away, pus.h.i.+ng everyone away, and the stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.ds just kept on coming back.So Sorry hadn't been human. His conviction that all she'd done was within the possibilities of humanity now seemed to rest on uncertain ground. But it did not collapse. He'd seen too much in his life. There'd be no sudden faith in his view of human history, no burgeoning optimism to chase away all the demonic memories of the h.e.l.ls he'd lived through.Still, there came a time when some denials lost their function, when the world's relentless battering at him made his foolishness obvious even to himself. He was, finally, and after all these years, among friends. That was a hard admission and he realized he was already impatient with it. 'All right,' he growled, 'enough with the flapping lips. We've got work to do. Corporal?''Sergeant?' Kalam replied.'Get yourself ready. You've got the daylight hours to reestablish contact with the a.s.sa.s.sins' Guild. Meanwhile, I want everyone else to lay out their weapons and give them a good cleaning. Repairs to armour. There'll be an inspection, and if I find a single d.a.m.n thing I don't like, there'll be h.e.l.l coming down. Understood?''We hear ya,' Mallet said, grinning.

Despite their slow pace, Coil's wound had opened half a dozen times since they'd begun the journey. He'd found a way of sitting in his saddle, leaning to one side and taking most of the weight on his uninjured leg, and since this morning the wound had yet to reopen. The awkward position brought pains and cramps to the rest of him, however.Paran knew a foul mood when he saw one. Though it was clear to both of them that a bond had formed between them, comfortable and unfettered by pretences, they'd exchanged but scant words as the ravages of Coil's wound continued to take its toll.Coil's entire left leg, from the hip where the sword had done its damage down to the foot, was a uniform sun-darkened brown colour. Clots of drying blood gathered in the joints of his upper leg plates and knee guard. As the thigh swelled, they were forced to slice the leather padding beneath the plate.Succour had been denied them at the Catlin Bridge garrison, since the lone surgeon stationed there had been sleeping off one of his 'bad nights'. Clean bandages had been donated, though, and it was these already soaked through that now covered the wound.There was little traffic on Jammit's Worry despite the city's walls being within sight. The flood of refugees from the north had since ended, and those who would gather for the Gedderone Festival had already done so.As they approached the edge of Worrytown, Coll raised himself from the semi-conscious state he'd been in for the last few hours. His face was deathly white. 'Is this Worry Gate?' he asked dully.'I believe so,' Paran said, since they were on the road sharing that strange name. 'Will we be permitted to pa.s.s within?' he asked. 'Will the guards call for a surgeon?'Coll shook his head. 'Take me on through. Phoenix Inn. Take me to the Phoenix Inn.' His head sagged again.'Very well, Coll.' He'd be surprised if the guards permitted it, and he'd need a story to tell them, though Coll had said nothing of how he'd been wounded. 'I hope,' he muttered, 'there's someone in this Phoenix Inn with a healer's touch.' The man looked bad. Paran fixed his gaze on the city's gates. He'd already seen enough to understand why the Empress wanted it so avidly. 'Darujhistan.' He sighed. 'My, but you are a wonder, aren't you?'

Rallick nudged himself another inch upward. His limbs trembled with exhaustion. If not for the morning shadows on this side of the belfry, he'd have been spotted long ago. As it was, he would not remain hidden much longer.Taking the stairs would have been suicide in the darkness. Ocelot would have set alarms all along the way the man was no fool at covering the approaches to his position.If he was up there, Rallick reminded himself. If not, Coll was in trouble. There was no telling if his friend had arrived at the gates yet, and the silence from the top of the belfry could mean anything. He paused to rest and glanced up. Ten feet to go, the most critical ones yet. He was so tired it was all he could do simply to retain the handholds. The silent approach was now beyond him. His only advantage lay in that Ocelot's concentration would be eastward, while he now climbed the west side of the tower.He drew some deep breaths, then reached for another hand-hold.

Pa.s.sers-by stopped to watch Paran and Coll move slowly through Worrytown towards the gate. Ignoring them, and the questions they asked, the captain focused his attention on the two guards at the gate itself. They'd spotted him and Coll, and now stood waiting.Reaching the gate, Paran motioned that they would pa.s.s through. One guard nodded while the other walked alongside the captain's horse. 'Your friend needs a surgeon,' he said. 'If you wait just inside we can have one here in five minutes.'Paran refused the offer. 'We need to find the Phoenix Inn. I'm from the north, never been here before. The man said the Phoenix Inn, so that's where I'm going to take him.'The guard was dubious. 'Be surprised if he'd make it that far. But if that's what you want, the least we can do is give you an escort.'As they emerged from the gate's shadow the other guard cried out in surprise.Paran held his breath as the man stepped close to Coll. 'I know him,' he said. 'He's Coll Jhamin, of House Jhamin. I served under him. What happened?''I thought Coll died a few years back,' the other guard said.'Screw the writs,' his companion snapped. 'I know what I know, Vildron. This is Coll, all right.''He wants to go to the Phoenix Inn,' Paran told the man. 'That's the last thing he said to me.'The man nodded. 'Let's do it right, though.' He turned to the other guard. 'I'll take the grief if there's any, Vildron. Get me the wagon it's still hitched up from this morning, right?' The guard smiled up at Paran. 'Thanks for getting him here. Some of us in the city still got eyes, and d.a.m.n what the highbrows whisper. We'll put him in the back of the wagon less jarring that way.'Paran relaxed. 'Thanks, soldier.' He looked past the man, eager to see what he could of the city now that the wall was behind him. Immediately before them rose a humped hill, its sides overgrown with weeds and gnarled trees. On its summit squatted a temple of some kind, abandoned long ago, from which a square-sided tower rose, capped by a bronze-tiled roof. As his eyes reached the belfry's open-sided platform, he saw a flash of movement. He squinted.

Rallick raised his head cautiously over the platform's edge. He almost gasped aloud. The belfry was empty. Then he remembered Ocelot's sorcery. Holding his breath, he strained one last time with leaden arms, drawing himself flat on to the platform. As soon as he moved to gather in his feet, the barren stone of the platform s.h.i.+mmered and he saw Ocelot lying before him, crossbow c.o.c.ked, taking aim at something below.Rallick unsheathed his knives and moved all at once. But his exhaustion gave him away, his boots scuffing the stone.Ocelot spun on to his back, weapon swinging to fix on Rallick. The Clan Leader's face twisted into a mask of rage and fear. He wasted no time with words and immediately released the quarrel set in his crossbow.Rallick tensed for the impact that he was certain would throw him across the platform and possibly over the edge. A flash of red before his chest blinded him momentarily, but no impact came. Blinking, Rallick looked down. The quarrel had vanished. The truth came to him in an instant. The quarrel had been magic, created by sorcery to fly unimpeded, but Baruk's rusty powder had worked. Even as this thought burst into his head, he propelled himself forward.Ocelot swore and dropped the crossbow. As he reached for his knife, Rallick landed on him. A loud grunt sounded from the Clan Leader, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.Rallick drove the dagger in his right hand against Ocelot's chest. The weapon sc.r.a.ped across mail beneath the cloth s.h.i.+rt. d.a.m.n, the man had le

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