Chasers of the Wind (49 page)

“Today Gray took a stroll through the Cucumber Quarter,” Layen said finally.

“Was the walk enlightening?” He drank deeply from his glass.

“Quite so.”

The Giiyan grinned knowingly. “With the redheads around him, Joch feels like he’s in Melot’s bosom. Getting at him when he sticks his nose out of his lair is difficult.”

“But possible,” I interjected.

“It’s possible.” He did not deny it. “But afterward I wouldn’t pay a copper coin for your hide. People have already tried. The northerners ripped the fools to shreds. I don’t think you should take such a risk.”

“That’s exactly why we came here today. I’m sure that you and Mols have thought more than once about how to get to Threefingers. Layen and I would be extremely grateful if you would share your thoughts on this matter.”

Stump perked up, and a happy smile blossomed on his red face. “Oh yes! You can believe me, we’ve knocked ourselves silly over this. And spent a whole lot of sorens to find out what’s what.”

“I dare to hope that you won’t take money from us.”

He ignored my jibe.

“Right now the only chance to get that louse is at his home. Sure, it looks like a fortress, but it’s probably a lot less risky than finishing Joch off in public. There, if you’re lucky, you can do everything quietly and then leave just as quietly.”

“Then why is he still alive?” asked Layen snidely.

“Because besides you, no one wants to tangle with Threefingers. Too many influential muckety-mucks stand behind him to expose your neck.”

“You’re wrong. You just need to put decent money on his head. There are always hunters to be found.”

“We’re too greedy for that.” He smiled grudgingly, though the reason, of course, was quite different—unless the guild was backed into a corner, Mols wouldn’t tangle with the mighty of this world. “In general, you can only swat an annoying yellow jacket in its hive.”

“For that you need to know how its hive is constructed. Do you?” Layen looked at him expectantly.

“Believe it or not, I do. We were able to buy a rough plan of the house from someone. As a friendly gesture, I can lend it to you.”

“We’re indescribably happy.”

“No doubt.” Stump chuckled and scratched his belly.

“Just one thing remains. How do we get in?”

“You could do it brazenly—knock on the gates and then send everyone you come across to the Abyss until you get shot down. Or you could do it the smart way. Which option do you find more appealing?”

“The second.” Layen picked up a bunch of claret grapes from the table.

“That’s what I thought. Permit me to astonish you. Many people know that most of Hightown and Second City were built by the Sculptor. But did you know that not only did he erect the walls, towers, and temples, but he also dug under the ground?”

“Yeah, we know,” I said, not feeling all that enthusiastic about what I was hearing. “I’ve been in that tunnel. It’s under Freedom Square, right by the old fountain. Two corridors leading nowhere, with rats and low ceilings. They’re blocked after about fifty yards. You can’t go any farther.”

“Oh, I remember those.” Stump nodded, smiling widely. “I used to crawl around in there when I was a boy. Searching for treasure. Yes, many went there and searched, what can I say! But the thing is, the Sculptor built outlet canals under Hightown. On the cliff, where that part of the city stands, there used to be a spring. They built the Tower and the Palace of the Viceroy right next to it. They say that there used to be a lake there and the water rushed from it in a waterfall that went straight off the cliff on the western side, into Second City. Then it turned into a small river and flowed to the sea. But the Sculptor decided that the Ors was enough for Al’sgara—a second river wasn’t needed. He suggested that it be hidden underground.”

“Are you planning on telling us a fairy tale?” I was indignant. “Get to the matter at hand.”

“I will! I will!” he growled. “Just shut up and listen!”

I decided not to be stubborn and waved my hand at him, indicating that he should go on, and then I poured myself some wine.

“The Sculptor dug a canal into the cliff on which Hightown stands, which the water would flow through. Then he built a whole underground system of aqueducts under Second City. The water flowed out near Birdtown. It’s in the Pipe District. You get it?”

“I don’t recall any rivers or pipes there,” I muttered.

“Of course you wouldn’t remember them!” He snorted. “They are long gone. About sixty years before the War of the Necromancers the spring dried up. The lake, of course, has been preserved up until this day in the orchards of the Tower, but how the Walkers keep it filled is beyond me. Maybe they haul buckets of water from the Ors.” He laughed at his lame joke and then continued. “For a while the empty aqueducts stood vacant. Then some clever folks started using them for storage instead of their cellars, and the poor lived there. But after the Damned swatted down Sorita and the war began, the Tower realized that the canal might be a really convenient way to pass under the wall to Hightown. If an enemy took Al’sgara and made it all the way to Second City, he’d have a readymade tunnel. So they filled it in. But the work was done haphazardly. They broke the stone arches supporting them, but not all of them. They were mainly concerned about the canal that passed under Hightown, and the rest were destroyed carelessly. And the tunnel under Freedom Square is proof of that.”

“Come on then. Tell us that yet another passage exists, and that goes right into Joch’s lair.”

“Perhaps it does, and maybe more. Why not? But you’re thinking along the right lines. It’s entirely possible to get into Joch’s compound from under the ground.”

“You must be joking!” I exclaimed.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked grimly. “There is a passage. It’s just that very few know about it. We found it by accident and didn’t think that it would ever come in handy. It’s just a coincidence. The passage starts under the wine cellar of the Pig’s Snout. Then it goes under the street, turns south after two hundred yards, and passes under the barracks of the Viceroy’s Guards and right under Threefingers’s land. There are a few branches, but they are all dead ends. It’s fairly roomy and for the most part dry and clean. So there won’t be any special inconveniences.”

“And does Joch know about this rat hole?” Layen asked a very important question.

“He does,” Mols’s assistant replied calmly. “But he hardly expects trouble from that quarter.”

“Do you just think that, or do you know?”

“I hope. He discovered that it was there, under one of his barns, but he made sure that rats wouldn’t climb out of it. He bricked up the passage.”

“The cautious bastard.” My sun finished her grapes and took a new bunch.

“Not so very cautious. I don’t know if it was him or one of his people who left the bricklayer alive. But he came here one day, told us this very story and showed us the hole.”

“Wonderful. All we need to do now is learn how to walk through walls.”

“Not at all. Mols made sure the path was unobstructed. The very same bricklayer made it so that the five lowest bricks could be easily removed. Enough so a man can crawl through.”

“Is the man still alive?” I was curious.

“Alas.” Stump sighed sorrowfully. “He died in a completely senseless accident.”

It was like I thought. Mols, unlike Joch, rarely made mistakes.

“So the way is open?”

“Not entirely. Threefingers did not rely solely on stone. There’s an iron grate there, too. Good and strong. Our lovely friend would never skimp on his own safety. And the lock is, shall we say, difficult. You take the hint?”

“I do. Without a decent lock picker you won’t get around it.”

“That’s right. Layen, you know how to work with locks, right?”

It was clear what kind of know-how Stump was talking about. He thought that with the help of her spark my sun could break down doors.

“No.”

“Then you’ll need an experienced person.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

“Hmm…” Stump gave it some thought. “I was hoping Layen would be able to do it.… There aren’t that many experienced men. Even in Al’sgara. That kind of work isn’t all that easy, as you know. I know four; I’m sure of two of them, but I have some reservations about the other two. But not one of them would risk going up against Joch. Threefingers bites very hard, and no one needs that. No one will agree to it, even for a lot of money.”

“What do you propose then?”

Stump chewed on his thick lips and then sighed reluctantly.

“There’s one man that comes to mind. He’s a strange sort. He hasn’t been in town long, but it’s rumored he’s pulled off a few jobs. And pulled them off well, even stylishly, I’d say. It wasn’t the easiest job, but the head of the City Council was deprived of a beloved and fondly cherished bauble, and the wife of the captain of the Guards lost a well-guarded necklace.”

“Who does he work for?”

“I don’t know. Probably for himself. I tell you, he’s strange. Some of the housebreakers wanted to pin him down, but it didn’t work out. They were found in a dump. The man knows how to stand up for himself and get people to leave him alone. Mols has been trying to send out feelers, but let’s just say they were sent back to her politely.”

Unlike us, Stump did not hesitate to mention in private conversations that his boss was a woman.

“And he’s still around?”

“Like I said, he did it politely. Plus, this thief could come in handy for us. As you can see, she was right.”

“He’s not at all useful to us. The man might not agree.”

“Maybe. But I’ll think of something and get back to you. Where shall we get together?”

I thought for a moment and then named a time and place.

“Don’t delay,” said Layen as we were getting ready to leave. “We don’t want to stay in Al’sgara forever.”

He nodded his understanding and waved a hand at us, telling us to leave. We happily followed this advice.

20

The night was warm and full of stars. The moon was waxing, and it had grown brighter than a few days ago. It was yet another reminder that time was not standing still, and that we had to get a move on. We didn’t have many nights left (more precisely, we had two nights and one day) to finish our task.

A fresh wind was blowing in from the sea, and the waves were striking against the pier with a soft splash. Besides this sound, and the barely audible creaking of the rigging of a potbellied merchant vessel anchored about fifty yards from the shore, complete silence reigned. On this side of the port, where all there was nowadays were empty warehouses and little fishing boats, there was no one but me. Not a single person had passed by in the entire hour I’d spent in the dark between a warehouse with a sunken-in roof and an overturned cart without its left rear wheel. Not even the watch had honored this place with their vigilant presence. Who would they catch here anyway? People seldom came here at night, if only because the filth and stench that dominated in the old parts of the docks deterred even those who’d been accustomed to filth and stench since birth. There weren’t even any rats. What would a self-respecting rat do in a place like this? Gnaw on old salt-covered fishing nets? All the stocks had been transferred to a different part of the port about ten years ago.

We had met with Stump early that morning in a small shop that smelled of smoked meats, located on the very edge of Second City. The Giiyan arrived dressed as a wealthy artisan, cheerful and ruddy. He’d been able to arrange a meeting with the man we would need to wage a successful campaign against Joch. The thief hadn’t said yes or no, but he had agreed to hear us out, and to that effect he set up a meeting in the old part of the port. At night. Plus, he commanded that I come alone and, although Layen wasn’t very happy about it, I accepted his terms.

I arrived an hour earlier than the agreed-upon time and walked around the neighborhood just in case Mols or this unknown craftsman had got it into their heads not to play fair. And then, tucked in a secluded spot, I watched the pier.

A soft chime swept over the sleeping city—the bells of Melot’s temples. It was three in the morning.

I almost missed his arrival. The man came from the direction of the Crab District, passed by about thirty yards from me, walked down the pier, and stopped at the water’s edge. The stranger stood with his hood thrown over his head, his back to the shore, looking out at the sea.

The man was my height but a bit narrower in the shoulders. He was dressed in a short, well-fitted jacket, tight trousers, and soft boots. All in gray and black tones. On his right hip hung an impressively large knife, and a canvas bag was thrown over his shoulder. He didn’t even bother to turn around when I walked up to him. He just stood there, staring somewhere beyond the horizon, as if all the treasure of the world were hidden there.

I coughed.

“You’re late.” The man’s voice was unpleasantly dry.

“Does it bother you?”

A slight shrug. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. People who are late for a good reason do not deserve any special blame. I’m sure you had to make sure that everything was all right.”

He turned his head slightly.

“You’re a sharp-sighted fellow.”

“And you’re cautious and patient. Not everyone would spend an hour in such a pigsty.”

It seemed to me that he was smiling.

“Well, we’re standing here together, so apparently I’m not the only one spending time in such a place.”

“You have a way with words, Ness.”

“I didn’t think that Stump would have told you my name.”

“Stump? Ah … the red-faced assassin. No. He didn’t say who wanted to meet me.”

“Then how do you know my name?”

“I have my own ways of learning what intrigues me, Gray.”

I grabbed my hatchet but then froze, not daring to raise my hand to throw it.

My companion had moved very quickly. Before I even had time to blink, he’d already aimed a miniature crossbow at me. It looked like the thing was loaded with two bolts.

“Put it away.” His voice was just as dry, but his tone was also benevolent. “You didn’t come here for this, am I right?”