The Dead of Winter- - Thieves World 07 (19 page)

It was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around the old priest. It thrilled her to see others defy her uncle. For too long his schemes and plots had gone unopposed. Now, perhaps there was divine justice after all.

"Build it on the shore of the Red Foal at the very edge of our land," she instructed. "Keep it small, just a private family altar." Rashan nodded again. "But you must design it."

"What?" She gave a startled look. "I'm no architect!"

"I'll handle the mechanics and the geometries," he assured her. "But you are the Daughter of the Sun. The core design must spring from your own heart and soul." She sighed, then remembered her other errand. It was getting late, and the gods knew she didn't want to worry her father. She clasped the priest's hand gratefully. "I will design it," she said, relishing the idea of a new challenge.

"We'll begin immediately. The cold mustn't stop us. My thanks, Rashan." She pulled up the hood to conceal her face and started to leave. But at the door she stopped and called back, "And no more dreams!" Outside again, her breath made little clouds in the air. She hadn't meant to spend so long with Rashan. The daylight was weakening; a gray shroud had closed over the city. She hurried down the Avenue of Temples and turned onto Governor's Walk, passing with a wary eye the same corner where she and Daphne had been attacked the night before. It was quiet now; the shadows and crannies appeared empty of threat. She turned down Weaver's Way and crossed the Path of Money. At last, she reached Prytanis Street and her destination. The air seemed suddenly colder, unnaturally cold as she pushed back an unlocked gate and approached a massive set of wooden doors. She knocked. There was no answer, nor any sound from within. She gazed around at the strange stone statues that loomed on either side of the door. There was a curious atmosphere of menace about them. They cast huge shadows over the place where she waited, completely blocking the sun. But she wasn't frightened. She embraced Savankala in her heart and felt safe.

The second time she knocked the door eased open.

There was no one to greet her, so she stepped inside. Eerily, the door closed, leaving her in a foyer lit by soft lamps. "Enas Yorl?" she called. The words echoed hollowly before fading. Chewing her lip, she wandered deeper into the house. Everything looked so old, covered with the dust of centuries. Brilliant pieces of art and sculpture were half-hidden by cobwebs. The air smelled of must and mold. She wrinkled her nose and went through an interior door. Halfway across that chamber she stopped. A shiver crept up her spine. It was the same room she had just left behind.

"Enas Yorl!" she shouted angrily. "Don't play your wizard's games with me. I want to talk." She hesitated, waited for some kind of answer. "I thought you had a servant," she continued impatiently. "Send him to guide me to you, or come yourself. I'll wait here." She crossed her arms stubbornly, but on the far side of the room another door opened. She thought about it, then sighed. "Oh, all right. Whatever amuses you."

Once again she passed through the door, and once again found herself in the same room. "I've heard a lot about you, Enas Yori," she muttered, "but not that you were boring."

Again the far door opened. To her relief it was a different room. The smell of mold was gone, replaced by a heady incense. Instead of soft lamps, braziers glowed redly, providing the light. This new room was much larger, full of shelves with books and old furniture. Thick carpets covered the floor. In a corner an odoriferous vapor steamed from a large samovar. At the opposite end of the room was a huge chair on a low dais. Someone, completely obscured by a voluminous cloak, sprawled upon it.

"Pardon me if I'm mistaken," the figure addressed her, "but most people tremble in my presence. You're not trembling."

She batted her eyes innocently. "Sorry to disappoint you." He held up a hand to silence her, and he pulled himself more erect. "You have the mark of a god upon you." Two red eyes gleamed at her from beneath a hood as spacious as her own. "You are Chenaya, called by some the Daughter of the Sun." She was beginning to hate that title. "I came to bargain with you, Wizard. I've heard of your power. If there's anything to know in this hell-hole, you know it. It's information I want."

His laughter fairly shook the walls. "Have I changed so drastically? Do I look like Hakiem the Storyteller, or Blind Jakob? Seek those for your information, woman. I'm no peddler of gossip. More important things occupy my time."

"Indeed? Well, occupy yourself with these!" She flung back her cloak and brazenly cupped her breasts. "Nearly a year ago a caravan bearing the Prince's wife and concubines was attacked in the Gray Wastes. The conspirators organized the attack from right here in Sanctuary. You have power, Enas Yorl, and you can find things out. You give me their names, and I'll give you the time of your life!"

The red eyes shone like twin coals. The wizard leaned forward to regard her with interest. "Why on earth, woman, would you offer such a bargain? Do you not know what I am, what my body is? Yes, I can give you what you seek, but do you truly know the price?"

Chenaya barked a short laugh. "You've seen my god's mark upon me, but do you know what it means? It means I can't lose-at anything. And that would get boring if I didn't find new and exciting ways to amuse myself." She unlaced her cloak and let it slide to the floor. "You're the most feared wizard in the Empire, and I decided when I first came to this city that it might be fun to crawl around in your bed. But the price of my flesh is the information I seek."

"But my body, Rankan," the wizard interrupted. "Do you know how it changes?"

"Of course," she answered with another laugh. "And I'll be very disappointed if you don't undergo some transformation while we're making love." She winked. "I told you, I'm always after a new thrill."

His voice took on a deeper, more lusty quality as he rose from his chair. "I have no control over the changes. I can't promise such a thing." But he changed, even as he whispered in her ear.

Chenaya frowned in irritation as she hugged the cloak tighter about her shoulders and crept from shadow to shadow. It wasn't her normal way of travel. She preferred to stride the center of the streets and damn anyone stupid enough to block her path. But tonight was different. She had business, and there was no time for pointless altercations with any of the factions that governed the night.

The animal pens of Corlas, the camel merchant, were on the shore of the White Foal River just outside the Bazaar. According to rumor, it was one of the places to avoid these days. The war between the two witches, Ischade and Roxane, had made an unpredictable hell of the area, and half the residents had apparently chosen sides.

Games, games, she sighed. Everybody plays. And who could tell-if things got dull maybe she'd take a closer interest in the players. On the other hand, things were looking anything but dull. Enas Yorl had surprised her in more ways than one.

Unexpectedly, she heard voices behind her. She ducked into the nearest cranny and crouched behind a barrel. Slops, to judge by the odor. She held her nose and waited. A ragtag squad of men passed without noticing her. Most appeared to wear swords, though a few carried only clubs. There was nothing disciplined about them. They talked too loudly and swaggered as if they owned the night. She suspected they'd all been drinking.

When they were past she resumed her journey. Quickly, she reached the bank of the White Foal. The swiftly flowing surface caught her attention. Starlight sparkled on the waves. The gentle lapping had an almost mesmerizing quality. A strange emotion stole upon her, a mixture of fear and fascination, the same sensation that had overcome her when she set foot upon her first boat and sailed to Scavengers' Island. Again, she remembered the voice of Savankala and the promise that sealed her fate. Not by sword or by any hand of man, the Thunderer told her those many years ago. By water....

She shivered and forced herself to move on. So it had been when she sailed to the island. On the way back there had been too much to do, plans to make. And there was much to do now. She felt the water calling, calling. But she denied it.

A new odor permeated the air, almost as bad as the barrel's contents. She had spent enough time with Rankan bestiarii to know a camel when she smelled one. The odor was quite distinct. She moved silently and came, at last, to the pens themselves.

Daxus-that was the first name Enas Yorl had whispered in her ear. For several years the man had made his living standing night watch over Corlas's beasts. According to the wizard, however, he also made a little selling information about caravan cargoes to various raider groups such as the desert-dwelling Raggah. It was he, Enas Yorl claimed, who had arranged the attack on Daphne's caravan.

Chenaya fingered a folded length of gold chain that hung on her belt, and she licked her lips. Now Daxus would pay as she had promised Daphne. The pens were built of wooden posts set close together and planted deep in the earth. The outer wall was a small fortification designed to foil would-be thieves. It would require a grapple to climb it. There was only one gate, and it would be barred from the inside. Because of the street disturbances, Daxus had taken to sealing himself inside with the camels.

Noiselessly, she crept around the walls, peeking through the frequent tiny gaps. The interior was sectioned into smaller pens. She listened for sounds. Even the camels seemed at rest. But ... was that the glow of a small fire?

She stole up to the gate and laid a hand against the rough wood. Only guile would open it without attracting half the rowdies in the city. And guile wasn't one of her more reliable talents. Daxus was a man, though, and if she'd learned nothing else, she knew she could count on his basest instincts. She removed her cloak, then shed her tunic, careful not to mislay a thin metal probe secreted up her right sleeve. She hugged herself, wondering about her trousers and boots. Damn, it was cold! Already, she was covered with gooseflesh. Still, if Daxus was suspicious he might want a better look. Cursing silently, she gazed up and down the street and slipped off the rest of her garments. Lastly, she propped her sword against the wall close at hand. Then she pounded frantically on the gate. "Help!" she cried in a tight whisper.

"Please let me in! My husband will kill me! Help!" She beat the wood with the flat of her hand, shooting glances around, hoping no one else would hear. A narrow portal slid open a bare fraction. No face appeared, but a voice whispered back. "Who's that? I don't want no trouble. Go away." The portal started to slide shut, but Chenaya shoved her finger into the aperture. "Wait!" she begged. "You're Daxus. I've seen you before. Please, let me in before my husband finds me. He beats me, but this time I ran away. He chased me across Caravan Square, but I lost him. He'll catch up, though. Please, it's so cold!" That much was certainly true. "Hide me, I beg you!" The portal opened wider; one eye peered through. "Is this a trick?" Daxus grumbled. "Stand back so I can get a look at you. Say, you haven't got a stitch on!"

She thanked the gods for her foresight. But it was freezing! It might be a good touch, she decided, if she sank to her knees, so she did. "I had a dress, but he ripped it off. Tried to rape me, the drunken oaf!" She hoped she was whining convincingly. Was Daphne really worth this kind of humiliation?

The portal slid all the way open, and the watchman poked his face out, glanced from side to side as far as the opening allowed, and licked his lips. Decision gleamed in his eyes as he grinned at her. "Well, I've got a fire that'll warm you, sweet. Warm you through and through."

The portal scraped shut. Chenaya heard the heavy bar lift on the inside of the gate. It started to swing back.

She rose swiftly and grabbed her sword. She remembered that lustful look on his face and how it repulsed her; she loathed the role she had assumed to trick him; on top of that she was chilled to the bone. For those reasons, she hit him a lot harder than was needed. Fortunately for Daxus she only used the pommel of her weapon.

Moving quickly, she dragged him back inside, then retrieved her garments. She pushed the gate closed, took a moment to throw the cloak around her shoulders, then bent over his unmoving form. The length of chain came free from her belt, and she fumbled for the wire-thin probe in her tunic sleeve. She worked by the light of his fire. At one end of the chain two small, blunt prongs were clasped together with a piece of wrapped string as long as the chain itself. This she inserted in the watchman's right nostril. With the probe she guided the chain up his nose and into the nasal passage that led deep into his throat. Chenaya knew when the prongs were positioned. Carefully, she separated the lengths of chain and string and began slowly to pull. The probe insured that the chain remained in place, but it twisted as she tugged on the string. Moments later, the wrapping came free, and the prongs snapped open. She gave a light tug on the chain. It was firmly anchored.

It was the method used to handle recalcitrant slaves and criminals in Ranke. Awake, the process was quite painful. Daxus was lucky she'd hit him so hard. He wasn't, however, going to like it at all.

She didn't like the smell of the camels. It was time to go. All she had to do was sneak him back to Land's End. She wrapped the free end of the chain around her hand and started to heave him over her shoulder.

The gate pushed open. It was Day me.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered angrily, heart pounding. With her hands full of Daxus she hadn't been able to reach her sword.

"Watching your back," he answered calmly. "Pull on the rest of your clothes. I'll carry him."

She blushed hotly. No doubt he'd seen a lot more than her back. And she'd been in such a rush to get away with Daxus she'd forgotten to pull on more than the cloak. She released the chain and hurriedly dressed. But it irritated her that she hadn't noticed Dayrne, and she mentioned it.