Dragonsight (19 page)

At first he could not make out how many attackers there were. They said nothing and made little noise, except for the soft padding of their feet in the straw and the ringing clash of their blades. Fortunately, the hayloft was long and narrow and no more than two of the would-be assassins could engage him at once.

Desperate to stay alive, Zimak was barely aware that gouts of fire were now flashing out in the night sky. He dimly heard screams of terror and pain as he struggled to defend himself. His blade bit flesh, a deadmoon fell, but another replaced him. Parry, chop, lunge, back away – despite the advantages of occupying Daretor’s larger frame, Zimak wished for his old body, along with its agility and speed.

Although he was holding his own, the onslaught was merciless and the numbers were still in favour of the attackers. He gave ground slowly but gave it he did. Behind him, looming closer, was the edge of the loft, promising a sudden drop to the straw-strewn floor some fifteen feet below.

Zimak’s heel touched the ledge. He knew there was a ladder somewhere behind him. He and his companion of earlier in the night had used it to get up, but climbing down now was not an option. A sturdy rope was tied three feet to his right. He knew, without looking, that the rope went up and over a hoist that was attached to a metal track. The other end of the rope was securely tied around two large bales of hay.

Zimak had no time for finesse or stylish manoeuvres. He parried a thrust that nearly spitted him, feinted twice in quick succession, then spun about, slashing the rope as he did so and forcing his opponents to step back out of the deadly arc of the whizzing blade. The rope parted, and a dark mass of hard-packed hay dropped from the rafters, side-swiping two deadmoons. Both fell instantly, clutching broken shoulders and arms.

Zimak took the opportunity to scan the edge of the loft. The ladder was poking several feet up over the edge. He grabbed it and pushed off. The ladder arced over into empty space and then plummeted downwards. Zimak was on a middle rung of the ladder when it slammed into the adjacent wall. Jarred from his unstable perch, he fell the remaining six feet, rolled onto his feet, then ran into the street.

Ignoring the spot fires that were spreading through several tenements, Zimak skirted lines of townsfolk carrying water. He ran recklessly in the gloom, in no doubt that the deadmoons would pursue him. He had to alert Jelindel and Daretor to the new danger. While the presence of the assassins did not prove that Fa’red was in league with the dragonriders, the coincidence was too great to ignore. Even if Fa’red was just taking advantage of the mayhem, he couldn’t be too far away.

Zimak kept running, guided mostly by his ears: the menacing hiss of dragon breath sounded all about, but seemed concentrated ahead, near the town centre. From there also came the sound of voices, confused and loud.

Zimak made it to the corner of a small square, in the middle of which a fountain bubbled. The tinkling sound of water seemed incongruous in this night of death. The square was busy with townspeople dipping their buckets in the fountain. The sky here seemed clear of dragons and flying assassins. He pushed through the crowd, sighting Jelindel in the clock tower. Daretor stood beside her. Zimak took a deep breath and broke into a run across the square.

He almost made it.

A brick, torn from the parapet of the courthouse, flew out of the darkness and, with unerring accuracy, crashed into the back of Zimak’s head. Bricks might not fly, he would later allow, but they did pretty well as missiles.

Zimak gave one sharp cry and fell flat on his face, unmoving. A bright flash lit the courtyard, temporarily blinding the people. Three black-clad figures swooped down and landed beside Zimak. They tied a special harness about him, each taking a leather strap, then sprang aloft again, lifting Zimak’s limp body from the ground.

Jelindel stared at Hakat, mentally preparing a spell to disarm him if necessary. But he smiled and gestured around the room.

‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Welcome to my home.’

Daretor looked around. The room was like nothing he had ever seen. Certainly he did not recognise the function of much of the furniture and hangings. He also noted the light source. ‘You live here?’ he asked.

Hakat nodded. ‘Amuse yourselves for a moment,’ he said.

He fetched plates, cutlery and cups from a wall unit. He then placed a fresh loaf on the table, several aromatic cheeses, a side of jellied ham, a bowl of what looked like tomatoes, along with a jug of wine.

All the while Jelindel and Daretor watched, wondering what was going on. When Hakat had fully laid the table, he sat down and beckoned for them to join him. They did so, slowly, still suspicious. Hakat handed them a bowl of scented water and they washed their hands. Then their host set upon the food with gusto. Jelindel and Daretor watched for a moment then joined in, ravenous. They managed to keep enough wits about them, however, not to touch anything that Hakat did not sample first. There was no point in taking chances.

When he saw that they were eating heartily, Hakat poured wine, drained his in one gulp, then laughed, raising another in salutation. ‘To the captain,’ he said, ignoring Jelindel and Daretor’s surprise. ‘May he rot in a hell of our choice!’

He drank deeply, savouring the toast, then wiped a sleeve across his lips. ‘I see from the look in your eyes that you have questions,’ he said amiably.

‘Why?’ Jelindel asked.

Hakat laughed as if she had said something very funny. ‘Why?’ he repeated. ‘Well, I could give you many answers, Archmage. I could say that Captain Helnick is a brutal tyrant who deserves death far more than he deserves loyalty, and I think that would be enough. I could say that none who serve the interests of one so foul as Fa’red should be trusted, let alone obeyed. And I could even add that on a night long ago, when Fa’red’s forces killed your family and destroyed your home, there was one lowly stableboy who was taken away and made a slave, but who has never forgot the loyalty he swore to the Count Juram dek Mediesar.’

Jelindel stared at him, memories spilling out from the dark part of her mind that she had slammed the door on several years before, and even now had little wish to reopen. But suddenly the man before her seemed familiar. It was as if his face metamorphosed before her eyes. Slowly her mouth dropped open.

‘Hak
at
! It is you? It is truly you?’

He nodded, smiling, and Jelindel found herself hugging the former stableboy. Daretor relaxed, breathing out. He felt safer than he had in a long while.

Hakat and Jelindel sat back. Jelindel continued to stare at him. It seemed as if she had lost the power of speech. Hakat seemed embarrassed and looked at his feet several times.

Finally Jelindel said to him, ‘So many times we played together, racing through the stables or over the rooftops.’

‘Aye,’ said Hakat, ‘and many’s the time you got me into trouble, too.’

She placed her hands on his and said with an intensity that embarrassed Hakat further, ‘Please, I do apologise, Hakat –’

‘Enough, enough, that was only a joke, Countess. We was just children.’

Jelindel breathed out and a tiny shudder shook her. ‘Yes. Till that night. But tell me, how did you come here? And you’ve changed so much.’ She stopped short of mentioning the scars that crisscrossed his face, and the fact that he seemed to have aged ten years.

Hakat shrugged. ‘They grabbed me that night, along with one or two others. We was taken onto a ship in the harbour and locked up for a time. Then the others were taken away. I never saw ’em again. Me, I was kept on board as cabin boy and treated worse then a cockroach. Then, some time later, we was sank by pirates and I became the cabin boy for Captain Helnick. Eventually, I was made part of the crew.’

Daretor looked at Hakat’s well-established house. It looked as though the man spent more time here than on Q’zar. ‘Why didn’t you escape?’ he asked.

‘I did once.’ His eyes seemed to dim at some dark memory. ‘And swore I’d never try that again. They had some way of finding me, some sorcerer’s way, I think. Helnick’s been in league with Fa’red for years. Two of ’em are thicker than thieves. Only crueller.’

Daretor thought on that for a moment. ‘You must have been valuable to Helnick for him to enlist Fa’red’s help in finding you.’ Daretor felt Jelindel squeeze his hand for silence.

‘’Tis okay,’ Hakat said, noticing the admonishment. ‘I’ve never been wise to the ways and wiles of mages, but I daresay Fa’red knew where I was from. How he meant to use me, I suspect I’ll never know, and hope not to.’

Jelindel inscribed a sign in the air about Hakat. ‘If your recapture was due to Fa’red’s interference, he’ll not intervene again. Now, what of this paraworld we’ve come to?’

‘Thank you … Jelli.’

Ignoring Jelindel’s grip on his arm, Daretor said, ‘You’re a different man from the one I followed to the
Sargasso
in D’loom.’

Hakat laughed. ‘All the cussing an’ mess I made of the stalls, you’re meaning? You almost lost me twice, an’ I needed you to follow me to the ship. I couldn’t approach you in the tavern ‘cause Helnick’s eyes an’ ears are ev’where, if you’re understandin’ me.’

‘Enough, Daretor,’ Jelindel admonished. ‘I’d trust this man with my life. Where are we, Hakat?’

‘Farvane, an’ it’s a hellhole, make no mistake. Helnick’s been trading here for the last year and a half with Fa’red’s help. Seems the archmage covets some of the devices that the Farvenu … acquire.’

‘Like the light?’

‘Nah. That’s what they call science. It looks like magic but it ain’t. I don’t rightly understand it meself, but it makes a change from smelly old oil lamps an’ dripping candles. Better on the old eyes, too.’

Jelindel reached up to touch it, but drew back quickly. ‘It’s hot, yet there’s no flame. How does it work?’

Hakat sucked at his teeth. ‘Something called electricity. Don’t ask me what that is or how it works or where it comes from, ‘cause I ain’t got a clue. But the Farvenu are pirates, of a sort. Only they don’t raid ships. They raid paraworlds, and they’re packrats, ten times over. They steal anything they can, not knowing what most of it is, then sell it in a huge market that draws folks from fifty paraworlds.’

‘They’re dangerous?’ asked Daretor.

‘You wait till you see ‘em,’ said Hakat, his voice catching. ‘You’ll know ’em right off. Burned into your senses they are, already, only you don’t know it.’

‘Can we move about the city?’ Jelindel wanted to know. Hakat nodded. ‘You can, but you gotta be careful. They have a dozen different races livin’ here at any one time. Some of ’em look like us, and others don’t, including the Farvenu themselves. But they’ll be lookin’ for you two by morning so we gotta do something to change your looks.’

Jelindel frowned. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us,’ she said gently.

Hakat ducked his head then brought it back up. ‘This is an awful place, Countess. When I say it’s worse than hell I ain’t kidding. If they catch you, you’ll be for the kitchens. They won’t even put you up on the slave blocks. That’s Fa’red’s orders, where you two was destined to go. I heard Helnick say so himself.’

Jelindel shrugged. ‘I’ve just worked in the ship’s kitchen for the last week, Hakat, how much worse can it be here?’

Hakat swallowed. ‘You got me wrong, Countess. They don’t intend to work you in the kitchens. They intend to serve you up.’

Jelindel and Daretor stared mutely at Hakat.

‘They’re cannibals?’ Jelindel said at length. ‘They ain’t cannibals,’ said Hakat. ‘They don’t eat their own kind, just ours, if they can get us. That’s why you was sent here. I was planning to rescue you both from the ship tonight, along with the other fella. Then I seen you break out of the lockup, and then I
didn’t
see you, if you get my drift. I figured you’d have to come this way so I circled round an’ waited in them bushes where you found me. An’ here we are.’

Jelindel said, ‘Thank you, Hakat. I wish my father and mother were still alive to know of your loyalty.’

Hakat looked both pleased and embarrassed. He started to say something when Daretor interrupted. ‘You said “that other fella”. Who do you mean?’

‘They had another prisoner on board. Fa’red’s men was guarding him. He’s for the kitchens, too, I’d say.’

‘Did you see him?’ Jelindel asked.

‘Aye, I did. Took him his food, same as you.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Zimat, I think. Something like that.’ Hakat scratched his chin. ‘Dark-haired fella, tall, strong, but gone to fat, like. Complained a lot, especially about the food.’

Daretor sighed. ‘That’s Zimak all right.’

‘He’s our friend, Hakat,’ said Jelindel.

‘That’s stretching the truth a bit,’ muttered Daretor.

‘We will have to rescue him,’ said Jelindel.

Hakat nodded. ‘I already tried, before I saw you two breakin’ out. But he was gone by then. They’ll have him up at the palace, gettin’ him ready.’

‘Ready?’

‘Yeah, for eatin’.’

Jelindel paled and stood up. ‘Then we must hurry.’

‘No, no, sit down, Countess,’ said Hakat. ‘There’s no rush. They’ll fatten him up first. Force-feedin’ they call it. Be a week before they send him to the cook. Maybe more.’