Old Man's Ghosts (19 page)

‘And Dov?’

‘Is well and asleep upstairs.’ With her hands firmly gripping the back of the chair Kine smiled weakly at the pair of them. ‘She’s fine, we will hear her when she wakes.’

‘Want any food? Tea?’

‘Tea would be welcome, thank you. I can feel my appetite returning at last.’

Kine looked down and patted her belly. ‘Strange, I had thought I would not look quite so … well, pregnant, once I had had the baby. I could be months-gone by the look of me now. Even after all this I can hear the voices of my aunts, telling me I must become presentable soon. That I must be desirable for my husband by Order’s turn – I think that’s what they always said.

‘It was never clear if they cared how far into the month we were, Order’s turn was always the line drawn. When I draw up a list of things to be glad of, never hearing those bitter voices will be close to the top.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Kesh said as she fetched the hot water, ‘there are shrill bitches everywhere you look in these parts too. We’ll soon get you feeling right at home.’

Kine lowered her eyes, a narrow set to her lips. ‘I do not consider this a holiday,’ she said quietly, ‘or an amusing step away from the strictures of my birth.’

‘Aye, well – might be that came out nastier than I intended. Just all this talk of assassins and hellhounds making me a mite snappish.’ Kesh opened her mouth to say more but then closed it with a snap. The Wyvern noblewoman raised an eyebrow but Kesh shook her head. ‘Never mind, none o’ this is my place to ask.’

‘Ask all the same,’ Kine said gently. ‘You’ve done me a great service as a favour to a friend. Such a service I could have only asked Myken to perform, or Narin. To do it for someone you’ve never met – I owe you whatever answers you wish for your kindness.’

‘Do you really know what you’re doing?’ Kesh blurted out, before blushing faintly at her own abruptness. ‘I don’t mean to pick a fight there, but you want to live as Narin’s wife? Take a servant caste tattoo? Cook and clean the rest of your life? With a face like yours, there’s a lot o’ men going to notice you. You slap a warrior caste’s face now and a punch is the best you can hope for. Do you really know how you’re going to live?’

‘No,’ Kine replied, unabashed. ‘I’ve tried to imagine it, I really have, but you see how helpless I feel as a mother without servants. You’re right – I do not know, I
cannot
know how I will live, but I chose to live. Perhaps there were other ways I might have saved my life, but there is one thing this pregnancy has taught me: I wish to be a mother.

‘Not a woman who watches her children be raised from afar. Not a jewelled pet on her husband’s arm, not a tool to be used for manipulating others or the secret power inside my husband’s palazzo. A mother who is the full order of stars to her child; who feeds and clothes her, who is the one she runs to and the one she laughs with. I had time enough to think about what I would lose and what I might gain. The choice may be made in necessity, ignorance even, but I am glad to make it.’

From upstairs there came a stuttered cry. Before Kine could move, however, Myken headed towards the door.

‘It may be you’re not alone there,’ Myken said, pausing. ‘Gentleness does not come easily to one brought up as a warrior. It’s time I also learned something new.’

Deep into the night, while fitful bursts of rain clattered on the roof, Narin and the others sat around the small kitchen table and debated the day’s events over a supper so many hours late it could hardly be called such. It was a fractured conversation where one person’s sentence was regularly finished by another, steaming bowls of rice and beans proving a greater draw for those chasing the chill from their bones, and took a long time before it was done.

To add to the distraction, Dov fussed in her mother’s arms and every other sentence Narin spoke went unfinished until prompted by one of his companions. As strong as his need to shovel food into his mouth was, he found himself unable to resist the small, angry sounds and it took until he was most of the way down his bowl before his news was out. The reports of fresh murders and Enchei’s confirmed suspicions had cast a pall over the table, but the meagre thread from the shamans of Iron District proved a hope they gladly grasped.

‘How long can we last this way?’ Kine said in a hesitant voice, a moment of hush having fallen over the table. ‘Hunted in two directions? Enchei, it sounds like you were lucky to escape those hellhounds at all.’

He scowled and stared down at his food. ‘Aye, might be getting older than I’d thought, to let ’em get ahead of me like that. Still not sure how I got away in the end. Almost like someone was playing with me.’

‘Perhaps they were,’ Myken spoke up. ‘You said you were given a warning, by magical means. They intended for you to run, to make a game of it.’

He shook his head. ‘Man I got that warning from, he was like a brother to me. If he had to kill me, fair enough, we went our separate ways and he was as good at it as anyone, but to play a game with me? To enjoy himself here? No, I don’t believe it.’

‘It has been twenty years, people do change.’

‘Not that much. If he’d got that messed up in the head, he wouldn’t be allowed out of the home valleys, let alone to come here where trouble’s so easy to find. No, it was a true warning and one I reckon we’ve got to have a chat about.’

Kesh gave a snort. ‘In that case, I second Kine. How long can we go on like this? This is more’n we ever expected to take on. I’m not walking away here but, Gods above, how do we come through this alive looking ahead and back at the same time?’

Narin scraped the last of his food out of the bowl and swallowed it hurriedly. ‘Got something better in mind?’

‘Aye, mebbe. How about we pick a fight?’

‘With who?’

‘The Wyverns.’ She nodded towards Kine. ‘Her family aren’t going to stop, it doesn’t matter how soon Lord Vanden gets here or what your Imperial friend can use to buy him off. They’re out for blood and we don’t need to keep on looking over both shoulders, do we? The four of us, we’ve a good record for holing up and killing anyone who tries to break in. Let’s do that again – make a mistake and let the Wyverns follow you home, Narin.’

‘And if they’re ones working for this summoner, eh?’ Enchei growled, ‘what then? Those two who came for me, one was a woman and I didn’t see Sorpan take a woman off the street. He must have found others; maybe they’re all taken.’

‘Well bloody make sure on the way,’ Kesh said scornfully, ‘you’re meant to be good at this sort of thing, old man. Use those shamans Narin met or something else, it doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is, sort out one problem then focus on the other.’

‘Glad it’s so simple for you,’ Enchei snapped. ‘Meanwhile, those of us at the sharp end find it a little more complex.’

‘You miserable old sod,’ she replied, ‘I’m staying behind because you asked me to – no other reason. I know someone’s got to be here so I’ve not bitched about the women being left safe at home, but don’t you fucking dare throw it in my face!’

Enchei hesitated then his shoulders slumped. ‘Aye, you’re right. That wasn’t fair, wasn’t true. I’m just … unsettled right now. Too many of my ghosts walking these streets and it’s got me on edge. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.’

An uneasy silence settled over the table. Narin looked around at the faces, trying to work out if there was a real problem there, but all he saw was tired sullenness from both Enchei and Kesh. Myken and Irato maintained a stony reserve and Narin realised they had both accepted Kesh’s idea with alarming fatalism.

Only Kine betrayed any anxiety at the suggestion and Narin slipped his arm around her. ‘Don’t worry, love. Kesh’s not planning on putting you in danger, certainly not Dov.’

‘Dov?’ Kesh looked up, alarmed. ‘Seven hells no!’ She reached over and slid a fond finger down the baby’s brown cheek. ‘Don’t you worry there. She, my sister …’ Kesh bit her lip. ‘You know about my adopted sister?’

Kine nodded.

‘She came to us when she was a few years old. I never saw her as a baby, but Emari’s skin was not so different to Dov’s. She was a Greenscale by birth, still such a little thing when the goshe killed her. When I look at her face, it’s too easy to see Emari as a babe. I’d never let anyone hurt her.’

‘House Greenscale,’ Kine echoed in a choked voice, placing a delicate kiss on Dov’s head. ‘I’ve visited their lands several times.’

‘Emari never did,’ Kesh said sadly. ‘Never got a chance to see her homeland. We dreamed about going there once, when I became a ship’s captain and Emari my first mate.’

Shyly, Kine offered over the swaddled baby who had fallen silent and lay staring up at the lines of shadow cast over the ceiling. Kesh took her gratefully and cradled Dov with awkward, but painstaking care, while a tear slid down her face and onto the baby’s cotton wrappings.

‘So when do we kill ’em?’ Irato piped up after a moment of silence, face falling slightly at the glares he roundly received. ‘What?’

Kesh glared at him. ‘Remember we talked about you saying things when the conversation’s tailed off?’

Irato nodded. ‘Something about not doing it.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But I didn’t ask anything personal this time and the argument was over. You looked happy.’

‘Let’s call it a general rule, since you can’t work out tact by yourself.’

‘Fine.’ Irato shrugged. ‘Conversation’s going now though, so when do we do this?’

Despite himself, Enchei laughed. ‘It depends on whether Lord Vanden’s returned to the city yet. Kesh, you up for a trip in the morning?’

On cue the rain began to hammer down harder. ‘Where?’ Kesh said with a small laugh, glancing up towards the roof.

‘Imperial District, before you visit my old rooms in Tale. I need some things from the strongroom, more wardings to put up and mess with those hellhounds. I’ve got to assume they caught my scent on the street and if it happens once, it can happen again. Here I’m hidden, I made sure of that, but I could do with some patches of fog to hide in when I’m outside.’

‘I’m going to play with royal family? Better start practising my bowing and grovelling.’

‘Please do better than earlier,’ Kine said with a smile. ‘Your efforts with Siresse Myken might not please a prince of royal blood.’

Kesh snorted and nodded. ‘Aye, guess you could be right there. Prince Sorote sounds like something of a true bastard.’

‘Just remember he doesn’t need to know the whole story,’ Enchei said. ‘He doesn’t know about me and I’m damned if he finds out today. Narin promised him a summoner and Sorote’s welcome to them, but I don’t fancy swapping pursuers, understand?’

‘He knows nothing about you?’ she asked, surprised. ‘How did you keep that out of your reports, Narin?’

Narin shrugged. ‘No need to mention it. Enchei’s a former soldier, Sorote knows that. Nothing I said to Prince Sorote suggested he was more noticeable than that. Man’s got enough hanging over my head.’

‘And too many people know my history already,’ Enchei snapped. ‘My life’s hanging on the thread of Wyvern loyalty oaths,’ he added, pointing at Myken, ‘and bloody Lawbringer Rhe’s lack of ambition. Not a whole lot needs to change before I’m as good as dead. I’m damn sure I don’t need some Imperial power broker deciding how he could best profit from the situation. Don’t even get me started on the conversation I need to try and have tomorrow, that’s a whole new level of suicidal foolishness right there.’

‘I suppose that means, for once, I’ll be having a better day than most,’ Narin said brightly. ‘A day of trawling shipping records and merchant holdings; it’ll feel like luxury after these days past.’

Enchei smiled nastily at him. ‘Aye, well, you’ll be taking double precautions to help Irato spot any tail you might pick up. They know what you and Rhe look like and they might make a move next time, rather than wait for their hellhounds to catch my scent again. Make sure you tell Lord Cheerful what could be coming, I know he’ll thank you for the added complications to your investigation.’

‘Oh yes,’ Narin said as he rose and took hold of Dov, ready to turn in for the remaining hours of darkness. ‘You’re a true friend, Enchei.’

‘Hey, we’re all in this together. My day goes to shit and I’m dragging yours down too. Sleep well, my friend.’

In the dead dark of night, with the light of the Gods hidden by cloud and the sound of her passing masked by rain, the Banshee walked the Underways of Raven District. The streets and passages of that place were deserted; not even the cutpurses were out to steer clear of the woman adorned in blood and snow.

The long coppery tresses of her hair were tied back and hidden beneath a scarlet hood, the seams and silver buckles of her bone-white leather coat picked out in red. Her coat was loosely fastened, revealing the red collar of her caste and leaving her guns within easy reach. The coat bulged on one side, a flap of cloth that covered the hilts of her narrow duelling blades, one long, the other short. A tiny stitched sigil of House Siren was visible there and a second lay just below her collar, a sop to convention for all that the warrior cult needed nothing more than their coat and looks to announce them.

She walked with fierce purpose, never pausing to check her surroundings or ponder her path. Driven by some unseen force, she wove an efficient path through the Underways until she reached a sunken marketplace, the doors and windows leading off it all shuttered and dark.

The Banshee went to a jutting doorway and brought her fist down against the wood, a single blow that echoed around the high walls of the marketplace. She waited, near-motionless, until the door was yanked open and a fat man peered out.

‘What the f—’ As he realised what she was, the angry words died in his throat. ‘Ah, didn’t mean no offence, Siresse, you woke me.’ Awkwardly he bowed to the high-caste woman and waited for her to speak.

‘I have a message for the mistress of this place,’ the Banshee rasped. Her voice sounded strange, a mechanism operated by unfamiliar hands.

The man paled and shrank back, gaze dropping nervously to where her weapons distorted the line of her coat. ‘She’s not here, I swear it.’

‘Who is here?’

‘Just, ah, just a couple o’ others.’

She took a step towards him. ‘Nagai? Novices?’

‘Nagai!’ the man said frantically. ‘Performing the night rituals, the appeasements and such!’

She cocked her head at him as though listening to a distant voice. ‘Appeasements? We cannot have that now, can we?’

With a practised movement she flicked up the side flap of her coat and plucked out the straight-bladed parrying dagger that nestled over the hilt of her rapier. Not bothering to draw the longer weapon, she advanced on the fat man who whimpered in fear.

‘You will give a message to your mistress,’ she said.

The man sagged momentarily, relief flooding across his face, but then she darted forward and drove the tip of the dagger into his chest, piercing the lung in one smooth movement. In a flash she withdrew and thrust it into the other with such speed and precision the man had barely time to look astonished. He gave a strangled cry and stumbled back, falling to the ground as much in surprise as under the force of the blow. The blade slipped silently back out, now tipped in red.

The Banshee stared down at the man as he scrabbled and wheezed on the floor, watching him like a beetle crawling past.

She raised the blade again and jabbed once, twice, while the man convulsed and screamed, hands now clutching his ruined eyes. Panic and horror took him over, but the wounds in his chest made every attempt to scream a paralysing agony and all he could manage was a broken, muted gurgle. He writhed and kicked, heels scuffing uselessly on the dirt ground.

‘Let her read this message and carry it far,’ the Banshee whispered. ‘Let her bring the rage of demons out on to the streets. Let this frozen city be consumed by the fire of Dragons as they scrabble for control.’

For Kesh the morning came almost as soon as her head had touched a pillow. One moment she was lying in darkness tucking the folds of blanket under herself, then Enchei was shaking her awake. Once she dragged herself outside, the biting cold jolted her fully awake and at the Tier Bridge she spent a while looking out over the city as it sparkled under a pale morning sun. The rain of night had washed away much of the snow, but in its place was a thick coating of hoar-frost that glistened in the freezing air.

She made good time across the Imperial District and soon found herself at the door Narin had described, the small building that seemed to house Prince Sorote’s personal fiefdom of the Office of the Catacombs. From the Lawbringer’s description, they had surmised the cellar door led elsewhere – but neither the city natives nor Enchei had heard of catacombs beneath the district.

‘Remember, Kesh,’ she said to herself as she approached the door, ‘they’re worse than nobles.’

Before she could reach out and knock, the door jerked abruptly open and Kesh found herself staring, open-mouthed, at a handsome, gold-collared young man wearing a pristine black-spotted fur and gold-chased pistols across his belly.

‘Who in the name of Sailor’s hairy crotch are you?’ the Imperial demanded.

At last Kesh shook off her surprise and knelt, ignoring the damp touch of the cobbled ground as she bowed her head and folded her hands over her chest.

‘A friend of Lawbringer Narin’s,’ she blurted out. ‘My Lord Sun, my apologies, I hadn’t expected you to open the door before I knocked.’