The Agent (19 page)

It was the mistake of an amateur swordsman. Garran, while still pinning one man against the wall, stabbed out with his flaming stick.

“Gitcha, gitcha, gitcha!” Garran crowed as he needled the impromptu torch into the second attacker’s crotch, setting his tabard on fire.

The soldier reeled back with a hellish shriek, dropped his sword, and began slapping at the flames. Garran twisted back to the man he had pressed against the wall and kneed him half a dozen times in the groin until his legs collapsed and he fell to the floor.

Adam glanced over his shoulder as they fled down the hall once again. “Good God, Garran!”

“Hey, fighting is about who lives and nothing else. Anyone who tells you different is on a countdown to his own funeral.”

Garran brought them to a stop next to a small postern door, yanked it open, and passed through into a tiny courtyard created when a somewhat recent addition to the castle abutted the defensive wall. He grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall, slid the handle through the iron ring set into the door, and turned it so that it ran counter to the doorframe, effectively barring it closed. He then crossed to where the newer building attached to the defensive wall and grabbed a handful of ivy.

“Do you think you can climb up with those girly arms of yours?”

Adam looked at his arms. “They aren’t girly.”

“Please, they couldn’t be any less manly if you had vaginas for elbows.” Garran began climbing.

Adam gripped the vines and braced his feet against the intersecting walls as Garran had done. He was not weak. Monastic life involved a great deal of physical labors along with their studious pursuits, but climbing walls was not one of them. He quickly discovered that it was a feat of skill as much as strength, one that required him to fight his instincts and to lean away from the wall as he climbed. It took him twice as long to make the short ascent, but he managed it.

“Can you give me a hand?” Adam asked, his feet braced near the top of the wall as he leaned back almost parallel to the ground.

Garran began clapping.

“You are such a prick. Need I remind you that people are looking for us right now, one of them being the most dangerous man in the world?”

Garran got on his hands and knees, braced one hand against a crenellation, and reached out with the other. “Here, you big baby.”

Securing his grip on a thick stalk of ivy, he snaked a hand toward Garran, who grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the wall.

“How do we get down,” Adam asked as he looked over the other side at the ground fifteen feet below them.

“I’m going to hang from the wall. You climb down my back and drop to the ground. Then I’ll drop onto your shoulders.”

“That sounds like it could be painful for me.”

“I would drop down first, but I don’t think your arm vaginas are strong enough to hold me.”

“I do not have arm vaginas!”

“Fine, then you hang from the wall while I cling to your back.”

Adam glanced at the ground once more. “You go first.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up.”

Garran sat on the edge of the wall, flipped over, and lowered himself over the edge. “Climb down.”

Adam got on his hands and knees and cautiously scooted backward until his feet dangled above Garran’s head. He tried to lower himself gently over the edge, but his elbows gave out, and he dropped heavily onto Garran’s shoulders.

“Be careful!” Garran snapped.

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder before you knock us both off the wall and I break my legs and you rupture your hymen.”

“I do not have a hymen!”

“See, I was right about your priests.”

“Just shut up!”

Adam braced his feet against Garran’s hips and tried to climb down to his waist. His feet slipped and he fell. He latched onto Garran’s belt to arrest his fall. Adam managed to hang on, but the belt slipped, and he found himself staring at Garran’s bare backside.

“You have got to start wearing underpants!”

“Never! But feel free to keep shouting into my ass.”

“Damn you!”

Adam extended his arms and made to lower himself down. Garran’s belt gave out, and his trousers dropped around his ankles. Adam found himself dangling just two feet off the ground, so he released his grip and dropped the rest of the way.

“Good job, now catch me.”

Adam looked up at Garran. “No, wait!”

It was too late. Garran released his hold on the wall and fell. His feet glanced off Adam’s shoulders and only slightly slowed his descent. Garran’s exposed backside collided with Adam’s face, and they both fell to the ground in a heap.

Adam pounded his fist against Garran’s hip as he released a muffled cry. “Get off!”

“I really don’t think we have the time, but thank you for the offer.”

“Get up!”

“Oh, right.”

Garran rolled off Adam’s face and hitched up his trousers. Adam gagged, spit, and drew in several deep breaths.

“You did that on purpose!”

“I did no such thing.”

“Liar!”

“True but irrelevant at this point. Head toward the southeast side of the city and meet me about a quarter mile outside of the gates.”

“You’re leaving me?” Adam asked, his voice rising in fear.

“Relax. Just stick to the alleys and don’t do anything that looks suspicious. If you see a patrol, lean against a doorway or something as if you belong there and have nowhere to go.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“One person is less likely to fraw attention than two. I also need to get my blades. With Victor after us, it’s the only chance I have if I fight him, and our room is the first place they will look for us.”

“You can’t just find a sword or something like a normal person?”

“Firstly, I do not like that you imply that I am somehow abnormal. And, no, I cannot fight with a sword. Not very well anyway.”

“Why the hell not? Isn’t that something they teach as part of becoming an agent?”

Garran raised his arms and dropped them back to his sides. “I don’t know why. Why do pigs have half-hour long orgasms? It’s just one of those things that defy explanation.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“Lucky damn pigs?”

“I think, like most things you seem to have done in life, you chose the easy route instead of challenging yourself.”

“Do you know what I think?” Garran asked.

“Lucky damn pigs?”

“Well, yes, but also that now is not the time for psychological profiling mumbo jumbo.”

“I thought you believed in psychological profiling?”

“I do—for other people.”

“But not you?”

Garran shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t work on me. I’m too unpredictable.”

“You think you are unpredictable?”

“Totally. I bet you didn’t think I was going to do this.”

Adam caught his wrist, thwarting the attempted backhand aimed for his crotch, and held it firm. “Yes, yes I did.”

Garran jerked his hand away. “Go meet me outside of town!”

Adam grinned and loped off into the darkness.

“No one likes a smartass!” Garran called after him.

Garran did not like sending Adam off on his own, but he would be fine as long as he did not draw attention to himself. Brolla was a sizable city, and it would take time to put together a concerted search. Garran could not leave without recovering his weapons, especially now that Victor had entered the game.

Victor’s arrival compounded the odds against them by a factor Garran did not want to contemplate. He had always known that Gregor or Gordon would send the agent against him at some point, but seeing his face drove reality home like a knife through the heart, and reality was not something Garran liked to face—at least not sober.

Garran strode through the streets like a man with a purpose without appearing to be running to or from something. It was the wee hours of the morning, but the streets were not entirely deserted. As with any sizable town, there was an active nightlife, a sub-society comprised mostly of the disreputable. It was the only time Garran felt a part of the world around him.

He hid in an alley across from the inn and watched the entrance for several minutes before crossing the street and stepping inside. He hoped to sneak upstairs, grab his reaping blades and a bag, and leave without alerting the innkeeper to his presence. The fates, as usual, conspired against him.

The balding innkeeper looked up from the counter, vanquishing the sleep from his eyes in an instant. “I’m surprised you came through the door. I figured your type to use the window.”

“You continue to misjudge my character. Do you plan on living behind that counter like a troll under a bridge?”

“I expected you to try and sneak off without paying me.”

“As is apparent with just about every other choice you have made in life, you are wrong. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Garran jogged up the stairs, found his reaping blades still under the bed, strapped the belt on, and slung his rucksack onto his back. He tried to open the window to make his escape but found it nailed shut.

“Untrusting sonofabitch,” he muttered.

He shuffled quickly down the stairs and found the innkeeper barring the door with a cudgel in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other.

“I bet you tried the window, didn’t you?”

“I do not have time for this. Step aside.”

“I’ll step aside and unlock this door when you set my payment on the counter.”

Garran stalked toward the counter, leapt onto its surface, and began tugging at his belt. “You want your payment on the counter? I’ll drop your goddam payment on the counter!”

Garran squatted with his pants halfway to his knees. His body instantly clenched, thwarting his attempts, when the front door burst open and several soldiers stormed inside.

“That’s him! Get him!” the squad leader shouted as he pointed with his shortsword.

“Dammit it all to hell!” Garran cried as he hitched his britches and ran for the stairs.

“You owe me money!” the innkeeper screamed after him.

“I’ll mail it to you!”

Garran darted into one of the other rooms and slid the wooden bar in place to lock it closed. Fists and boots pounded on the door as he busted out the window, threw open the shutters, and climbed out onto the ledge. Grabbing the overhanging eave, Garran hoisted himself onto the roof, ran across to the far side near the front door, and gazed down at the knot of horses and a pair of guards below.

Taking a deep breath, Garran launched himself off the roof and onto the back of one of the horses. He cried out at the pain of hitting the saddle, blessedly missing the saddle horn, and fought to keep from falling off. Catching his balance and gaining his seating, he drew one of his reaping blades and struck one of the soldiers with the blunted backside of the blade.

The man grunted, his sword only half-drawn, and fell to the ground. Garran switched his reaping blade to the other hand and grabbed at the now riderless horse’s reins. He managed to get ahold of the shying creature’s straps and raised his weapon to keep the other guard from cleaving into his head.

Having no time to duel the man, Garran sank his reaping blade into his thigh, wheeled about, struck the other horses with the haft to run them off, and spurred his horse into a gallop. He dropped his reaping blade into the loop on his belt, took control of the reins, and steered his purloined horses toward the gates.

Cries and a few whistles split the night air behind him. The sound of hooves pounding against the cobblestones soon accompanied the alarmed shouts as the local constabulary gave chase. As he had hoped, the orders for their detainment had not yet gone citywide, and the gates were still open. His unexpected charge caught the men guarding the gates by surprise. By the time they realized they needed to close the gates and stop him, he was already through.

Garran measured the distance he traveled in his head and began shouting. “Adam!”

A figure broke from the trees and stepped out onto the road.

“Garran?” Adam shouted back.

Garran wheeled his mount to stop. “Can you ride?”

Adam bobbed his head and climbed into the saddle. “Yeah!”

“Stick close to me. We’re going to break off of the road as soon we can. When we do, duck your head low and hold on.”

Garran spurred his horse back to a wild gallop. He could hear the sound of pursuit even over their mounts’ pounding hooves. Moonlight illuminated the new cobblestone road, putting it in stark contrast to the near-black trees and hills to either side. They had just rounded a sharp bend in the road when Garran jerked the reins and guided his horse onto a game trail.

Adam followed, leaned over his horse’s thick neck, and used his free hand to ward off the branches lashing his face and trying their best to unseat him. He suffered the abuse for nearly a mile before Garran slowed to a more controlled pace.