Knight's Dawn (5 page)

The fact that he had the brain of an ass had always escaped the queens notice. Not so that of Humbold. It was his one source of comfort. Marshal Crushkite, murmured Humbold, as the warlord passed him by, you have heard of this stranger we have in our midst. He calls himself Soldier. Dont you think thats rather impertinent, since he belongs to no army? Crushkite turned his baleful eyes on the man he considered to be lower than worms. A man whos been a soldier is always a soldier, Humbug, dontcha know that? Training, discipline, loyalty to a regiment they never leave a man. Ive seen im. Might have to execute him, but thats neither here nor there, hes got a fine, straight figure. Spine like a spear. Not like you limp daffodils whove never marched anywhere except to your wardrobes. Got a battle-look in his eye, too. Officer material if ever I saw it. Captain Kaff doesnt seem to think so, Humbold offered, craftily, attempting to drive in wedges. Captain Kaff doesnt have to agree with my opinion in private matters: he simply has to obey orders in military matters. Good day to you, Humbug. Humbug! The chancellor bristled as he smiled. Humbug! Crushkite was not Humbolds only problem. There was the Lord of the Royal Purse, Quidquod, keeper of the queens personal fortune, a man who was incorruptible, could not be bribed, could not be swayed by rhetoric. He was old, incredibly intelligent, and could destroy Humbold with a few words in the queens ear, if any proof of embezzlement ever fell into his hands. There were one or two minor personages feared by Humbold, but gradually he was whittling these down. Humbold, called the queen, after having had a short conversation with Quidquod, the Lord of the Royal Purse seems to differ with you over the matter of Frinstin. He feels that perhaps you are being a little hasty. Humbold simmered internally, but smiled on the outside. Has he more information? How tragic. It may be too late, your majesty . . . Not so, replied the crusty, grim-faced counter of the royal coin, I received a message from Frinstin this morning and acted on it straight away. Quidquod bowed solemnly to the queen. I took the liberty of postponing the execution. Quite right, Quidquod. If you have evidence which speaks of Frinstins innocence, then we must discuss it before he has his head lopped from his shoulders. Both of you be in my inner chambers before noon. Well take the matter further. Quidquod bowed. Humbold bowed. Humbold felt a rage go sweeping through him, reaching to the very depths of his soul.

Chapter Five

Soldier was awakened by the sound of beautiful singing. He did not understand the words - they could have been bird-songs for all the intelligence they imparted - but there was no denying the quality of the tone. He was aware, as he opened his eyes, of shadows scuttling away along the banks of the sewer. Sitting up quickly he realised the straps on his belt purse had been half-severed. He had been in the process of being robbed when the singing woke him. Turning to Uthellen, Soldier said, A simple shake and a warning would have been enough. Enough for what? She too was stretching and rubbing her eyes. Enough to alert me. Theres was no need to sing, even though you have a wonderful voice. She blinked at him. The boy was awake too, staring. Sing? she repeated. What are you talking about? The boy pointed with a bony finger. It was that. The sword sheath. Soldier looked down at the scabbard strapped to his side. This? What do you mean? The boy said, I heard it, before you woke. It sang in the language of the wizards. It sang in the voice of a castrate,

Awake, awake, oh warrior mine. Before youre slain by thieving swine.

The Soldier grasped and inspected the scabbard with Kutrama and Sintra stitched into its leather. Are you mad, child? Scabbards dont sing. Perhaps someone was throwing his voice. No, it was the scabbard. Soldier frowned and stared hard at the boy. What do you know of the language of wizards? Uthellen suddenly came to life and clutched her child to her breast. Nothing he knows nothing. We all fell asleep and someone woke us. Desperately she called out into the darkness, I thank you, whoever it was, for giving us a warning. With that she began to gather what belongings she had and seemed to be preparing to leave. Where are you going? asked Soldier. Its still night. Its almost dawn. The boy and I should leave now. Soldier shrugged and reached into his purse. Here, he said. Heres the money I promised. She took it with a gracious thank you, and before very long Soldier was alone on the ledge. He was a little puzzled as to why Uthellen and the nameless boy had left so soon. She seemed to go into a panic when her son started to speak of wizards. Of course, it was not good policy to take the name of wizards in vain, but there had been nothing of that sort. It was the mere mention of them that put her into disquiet. Soldier didnt understand it at all. And the boy had been so convinced it was the scabbard which had warned them of the robbers! Soldier could not get to the bottom of it. He resolved to speak again with Uthellen, that night. But when he returned after a day of sawing off the hands of murderers and bandits, she was not there. One of the other sewer residents told him she would not be back. She came to offer her apologies, said the man, and left her promise that you could have her ledge. Soldier was surprised, but there was little he could do about it. He simply took her place and paid the rent when the collector came to demand it. Do you charge the rats as well? asked Soldier of the rent collector. They spend their days down here, as well as their nights. The rent collector, a little man with narrow shoulders, shook his head. Youll be in a deal of trouble, friend, if you mock Her Majestys officers. Ill ave you danglin from the battlements by your thumbs, any more lip. I may look weak and puny to you, but theres a cartload o soldiers outside would love to kick you from here to there and back again. Get my meanin? Theres not a lot of meaning to get, but as a stranger here I should probably watch my tongue. Absolutely, friend. The time passed swiftly. Before he knew it, Soldier had been in the castle a month. By day he worked for Spagg and at night he slept in the sewer. It was not much of a life, but it was all he had at the present time. There was some idea that he might progress by degrees, but to where or what he still had no clue. Then the hour came when he was arrested. He was standing by Spaggs stall at the time, helping to persuade passers-by into purchasing hands-of-glory. Want to make yourself invisible? he called. Do all those naughty things youve always wanted to do, without fear of being seen or caught? Men, get into the ladies public baths without being noticed! Women, follow that two-timing husband of yours and catch him with his pants down! Come on, buy a hand-of-glory, dirt cheap on Wednesdays, Fridays and the queens unofficial birthday. Waxed-and-wicked fingers guaranteed to light first time. Makes a fine glow to read or sew by, without the added extra cloak of invisibility. A must for professional burglars and grave-robbers . . . Six castle guards led by a captain came from a corner of the market square and made straight for Spaggs stall. Uh, oh, what have you done this time? Soldier asked Spagg. The stallholder was already creeping away, distancing himself from his assistant. Not me, he muttered. You. It was execution day. Murderers, rapists and child moles-ters were hung outside the walls of the city, but traitors were decapitated within. In a courtyard near the Lord of Thieftakers office they were cutting off heads. One could hear the sound of the axe chinking past the block as each head rolled. Occasionally there was a scream cut short by a thumping sound as a head fell onto the boards of the executioners platform. It was not difficult to imagine the bnght-bladed sword raised high above the quivering neck, then flashing down. The soldiers had come to add to the number of victims in the Lord of Thieftakers yard. At first Soldier thought theyd come to take his collar off, thinking he had earned the right to citizenship after a month of wearing the uncomfortable iron ring. However when the captain shouted on the march, he knew he was mistaken. The stranger known as Soldier is hereby under arrest, having been sentenced to death by the queen for remaining within these city walls for one lunar month without authority or invitation. Take him! This last order was directed at his guards. Soldier felt something flare within him. It came from that corner of his mind where guilt and hatred dwelt side by side. He leapt back with great alacrity, reaching down for his sword. Of course, there was no sword to draw. However, the Hannacks warhammer was still in his belt. He drew this and crouched like a cornered rat, ready to deal death to those who would take him and execute him. Soldier was not about to spend the remainder of his days on a gibbet, without first putting up a fight. The square suddenly came to life. Citizens began erupting from nearby buildings the inns, bawdy-houses and the guildhall - and those already in the square began to crowd round, sensing a battle to the death. The officer had drawn his sword and his men began to hem Soldier in with their spears. No need for that. You cant get away, said the captain. Innocent people will get hurt. Never mind us innocents, lets see a good fight! roared a voice from the crowd. Lets see some gore and guts! A great cheer went up. Some ragged children who had previously been playing kick-ball with an unfortunate live rat were beginning to force their way to the front, squeezing through the legs of the adults. Donkeys and other livestock were raising a din from the pens in the east corner of the square. A dog had stopped in its tracks and stood there, wondering what on earth was happening in the usually quiet market-place. Soldier struck out and hit the head of a guard, who went sprawling back into the crowd with a dent in his helmet. The man tried to struggle to his feet, helped by cheering onlookers, but only succeeded in staggering a few paces before his knees buckled and he passed out. His spear rattled on the cobblestones. The remaining five guards stabbed with their weapons, infuriated that first blood had gone to their adversary. Soldiers warhammer clattered along the line of spears, like a childs stick along iron railings, jarring the guards. He ducked and weaved under their efforts to pin him. His acrobatics delighted the spectators, who shouted encouragement. Once the warhammer came down on the foot of a guard who went in too close and put him out of the action. Another time the deadly spike on the back of the hammer went through the empty hand of this wounded mans nearest comrade. Soldier yelled in triumph, screaming that victory was his. He flailed his warhammer around his head, yelling into the face of his opponents, his features a mask of hatred. The guards backed away under this furious onslaught, looking to their leader for support. The captain remained calm and unimpressed. If I call for another troop, they will surely finish you where you stand, he told Soldier. If you give in now you will at least get the chance to be heard. Voices shrieked from the heart of the crowd, Dont do it! Fight to the death, stranger. Dont let them take you alive! But Soldier realised these were just vultures, these people who wanted to see him take on the Guthrum guard. They lived humdrum lives here in the city and they wanted a bit of a thrill. He was nothing more than a circus act to them. Bear-baiting, cock-fighting, iron-glove-boxing. These were the sports that excited these people. Once he was lying bleeding, with a crushed skull, on the cobbles they would laugh and go back to eat their sandwiches of bloody cow meat covered in spicy sauce and talk about matching fighting dogs against each other. The captain was right. Even if he won and put all the guards out of action, the blood-lust of the crowd would be up. He was still a stranger here. The mob would tear him to pieces and think nothing of it. They would be doing their duty by the queen. The market-place was now packed with people. There was no escape. He was doomed whether he fought or not. Something landed on his shoulder and a voice in his ear whispered, Give it up. Ill get you out later. Then there was a flutter of black wings and the raven was gone again. Ahhhh, dark magic, yelled a spectator. See, the black bird of death landed on his shoulder! It spoke to him, shrieked another. I heard it! Soldier let the warhammer fall to his feet and held his hands high in the air. I surrender, he murmured. One of the guards, a man with an angry red face, was about to run him through, but his officer sharply admonished him. Do that and itll be your last act, corporal. This man is to go before the Lord of Thieftakers for proper sentencing. I can understand, said Soldier, nodding to the frustrated corporal. I wounded his friends. The captain lashed Soldier viciously about the face with his chain mail glove, leaving a red smear from temple to chin. And thats enough out of you, too, scum. You are not required to understand anything. Speak only when youre spoken to. Fury flared within Soldier. He almost struck the captain and thereby ended his life there and then. Those guards who had received minor wounds to foot and hand let their comrades dress them. The others fitted a milk churn yoke across Soldiers shoulders and tied his hands to it. Then they hobbled his legs with a short rope. It amused them to have him trotting in little spurts to keep up with them, as they began to cross the square. The people parted to form an avenue. A moment ago they were with him, while he was fighting the guards. Now that he had been humiliated by his enemies the fickle mob turned against him. They jeered, yelling insults and obscenities, calling his mother a harlot, his sister a strumpet and labelling his brother and father as bastards. Since he had none of these relations, or at any rate did not know them, their taunts did not bother him in the least. The crowd could see that Soldier was not biting on their bait. This annoyed them and they began then to pelt him with rotten vegetables and offal. The captain let this target practice go on until a flying pigs intestine missed its mark and wrapped itself around the throat of one of his guards, then he ordered the crowd back. Ill flay every damn one of you, roared the captain. Ill come back here with a troop of horse-soldiers and clear this square, or have the cobbles running with blood! Ill show you cattle-slaughterers what carnage really is. The gentle citizens of Zamerkand wisely ceased their sport. They knew how far to go and when to stop. They let the captain leave the square with his captive and soon the place was humming with business once again. Soldier was taken to a keep in the north part of the castle. There he was dragged before a white-haired, dignified-looking man whose portrait half-filled the wall behind his huge desk. He was too important to look up when Soldier was finally standing before him. In fact he continued to write in a large ledger for another thirty minutes, sipping occasionally on a steaming beverage contained by an onyx beaker. Even if he was curious his eyes did not drift upwards to look at the prisoner. Only once he had used a salt shaker as a blotter did he place his goose-feather quill on its stand and look up into Soldiers eyes. This is the stranger, the one they call the Soldier? Just Soldier, said Soldier. He felt an agonizing, stinging pain on the back of his neck as he was again struck by the chain mail glove. Quiet, prisoner, said the captain. Speak again and Ill cut off your thumbs. I will decide whether there is any cutting to be done, Captain Kaff, said the dignitary. You may have recently been made the Captain of the Imperial Guard, but I am in charge in here. There was an offensive pause before the answer came. Yes, my lord. The tone was sneering. You are getting above yourself, Kaff. Do not rely too much on your friendship with Chancellor Humbold. Chancellors have been known to fall, and once they do, it is into my hands that they fall. Theres a thin line between a man who holds a powerful position in the court and a traitor. Its the queen who decides where the line is drawn and on which side a man is standing. There was only a brief hesitation this time, before the answer came back in a more civil tongue, Yes, my lord. Thats better, Kaff. Much better. One day Ill take you on a tour of the rooms below this one. Its hot down there, very hot. Stifling, in fact. Even now you should be able to feel the warmth rising through the floor from the coke furnaces below, where we heat the branding-irons and red-hot anus-pokers. If you listen very hard you may be able to hear the squeaking of the racks. You wont hear the screams, of course, for the first thing we do is tear out a prisoners tongue. Silent screams the mouth wide open, the eyes starting from the head, but with no sound coming out that is what we aspire to in the room below this one. This speech, Soldier knew, was as much for his benefit as the captains. He was meant to be intimidated. He was meant to be terrified of what was going to happen to him. Soldier knew now that he was in the presence of the Lord of Thieftakers, head of magistrates, judges, lawyers and the watchmen who policed the streets of the city. The Lord of Thieftakers now rubbed the sides of his nose with both hands before proceeding. You have been here a lunar month? he asked Soldier. Yes, my lord. And you have made no attempt to leave, now that your statutory month is up? I didnt know I had to leave. No one told me. The Lord shook his head. Ignorance of the law is no excuse. Surely someone should have told me, my lord? Someone should have, but they didnt, and so here you are before me, awaiting my sentence. Well, I have no choice but to sentence you to death. He looked at a sundial on the windowsill of his room where the sun came through. Normally I would have you beheaded, but the executioner has almost finished for the day. Instead, you will be taken from here and disembowelled and your innards fried in a copper bowl while you still live. Once you are dead the rest of your remains will be placed in a gibbet cage. Said gibbet to hang outside the city gates where the rooks and crows may cleanse your bones. That is all. Do you have anything to say? I would prefer to wait for the next set of beheadings. Anything else?