The Heresy Within (21 page)

Betrim had expected her to stand up, to move, to run, to do something, anything. Instead the woman toppled sideways and hit the floor face first and lay there unmoving. Betrim looked at Swift. Swift shrugged back.

With a groan Betrim reached down, plucked the woman from the ground and lifted her up in both arms. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The journey back to the basement was less eventful. Only empty cells and empty corridors watched them pass. One prisoner, an old man stinking of shit crawled towards the bars and begged freedom. Henry aimed at kicked at him and the man slunk back into his cell begging forgiveness.

Downstairs in the basement Swift didn't wait for a rope. He jumped, pulled himself up to the chute and scurried his way to the surface leaving Betrim and Henry to stare after him in stunned silence. A moment later a rope dropped down from the black hole. Betrim tied the rope around the woman's chest grabbing hold of a handful of tit as he did. She didn't respond at all, didn't even acknowledge she was out of her cell. Betrim called up the hole and a moment later she was hauled up into the waiting black above. Henry went next, Betrim didn't dare grab a handful as he tied the rope round her chest, not that there was much to grab. He watched as her feet disappeared above him and waited until the rope dropped down again.

By the time Betrim's head appeared up out of the chute Bones was panting and sweating as he pulled hand over hand. Betrim climbed out of the hole, turned and spat back down it. Last time he ever did anything like that again. Bones smiled at him and collapsed down onto his arse to catch his breath.

Two more bodies were sprawled out on the ground. Both were guards with their red doublets made redder by blood. Betrim nodded towards them. “The other patrol.”

“Aye,” the Boss said, angry. “Don't know where you learned ya numbers, Thorn, but that was not thirty minutes. More like fifteen.”

Betrim shrugged. “Now what?”

“Job was ta get her out then let her go. She's free.” The woman was propped up against the wall, still unmoving like some sort of life-size doll Betrim had heard that rich folk played with when they were young.

The Boss walked forwards and took the leather thong out of the woman's mouth. Betrim noticed them straight away. With her lips pulled back as they were he had a good view of her teeth and they were perfect. Bleached white and all of a size and shape, no gaps, no yellowing, none missing or broken. The most perfect set of teeth he'd ever seen.

It took him a moment to realise everyone else was also staring at the woman.

Bones was the first to speak. “She's blooded ain't she.”

Swift was the first to answer. “Looks ta be.”

It didn't make any sort of sense. The blooded folk ruled the wilds; each family owned a province and ruled all in it save the free cities. Why would one of the blooded, a woman too, be held prisoner in Chade? And why would the ruling council be treating her so badly?

“You're free now,” the Boss said. “You can go. Job was ta get ya out an' let ya go.”

The woman slid sideways and toppled, again landing on her face. The whole crew just stared at her. It looked to Betrim like she was broken. He'd seen it before; women beaten and raped so bad that they just stopped being there, switched their minds off or something. They would eat and drink and shit and piss but apart from that they were nothing.

The Boss did not look pleased. “Fuck,” he swore in a loud voice. “Bones, pick her up. Can’t leave her here fer the guards ta find. We'll keep her back at the house 'til Deadeye gets here. Move. Now!”

Even as late at night as it was the streets were full of guardsman looking for folk to be taken as slaves. The doors to the slavers guild never closed and more than one drunken layabout would no doubt find themselves waking up to an iron collar. The Boss' crew was too large and too well armed to be considered for slaves but six folk carrying an unconscious woman through the streets would peak some attention.

They stayed to alleyways and shadows as much as possible. The Boss let Swift lead the way, the lad had always seemed to be part homing pigeon and they were back at the house soon enough. Back with the rats and the fleas and the stench of corpse. Now they had the body of a woman who stank of piss as well, along with the smell of Betrim's hair dye and Swift's chewing leaf not even the dogs would come near the place.

Once inside the Boss set to examining the woman. He gave her a light slap on the cheek, poked around inside her mouth, pinched at a nipple and slid a hand up between her legs. All the while the woman did nothing, her cold blue eyes staring at the floor.

The Boss backed away shaking his head. “S'like a livin' corpse.”

“Give 'er ta me fer five minutes, Boss. I'll wake her up,” Green said, everyone ignored him.

“Somethin the Arbiter did, I reckon,” said Swift.

“What?”

“Word on the street is the council brought an Arbiter to deal with some woman they had in gaol.”

“And this is the first I'm hearin' of this?”

“Different woman, Boss,” Bones spoke up. “We saw the Arbiter leavin' the gaol with another one.”

Betrim approached the woman now slumped against a wall. He lifted her head and looked at the strip of cloth on her forehead. It wasn't a bandage. It had a symbol on it.

“Ya sure about that, Bones?” Betrim grabbed a handful of the woman's hair and lifted her head to show the others the piece of cloth. “This is one of theirs or I ain't the Black Thorn.”

Green opened his mouth to speak but the Boss cut him off. “Take it off, Thorn.”

Betrim took hold of a corner of the cloth and pulled. It made a horrible ripping sound like it was tearing the skin but it came away easy enough. As soon as it was off the woman's head her eyes flicked up and met Betrim's.

He felt a push against his chest and then something hit him in the back and he was down on the floor, a crumpled mess against the far wall. He opened his eyes to find the woman standing up and looking about the room. Her flat gaze went to each of the six crew members in turn and then landed on Bones who was, unfortunately for him, in front of the door.

“Let her go, Bones,” the Boss said but it was too late.

The woman charged the big man and shoved him aside as if he were a child. Bones hit the wall and slid down into a second crumpled mess beside Betrim. The giant groaned as he pushed himself upright.

They all stared after the woman, stared towards the gaping hole in the house where the door had once been.

“We still get paid right?” Swift asked.

It had been so long since Jezzet had last been clean she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. Clean skin, clean hair, clean clothes, clean smell. It felt better than every hot meal she'd ever had just to be clean. Two tubs of bath water it had taken but it was water well spent. The first had been so brown and dirty that the tub had needed scrubbing before the second lot of water could be added. Jezzet had waited by a low fire as a serving maid scrubbed and made disapproving noises by ‘
tutting
’ and ‘
clicking
’ her tongue.

She'd only spent a little of the Arbiter's money but she'd spent it well. Jezzet had bought new clothing, new leathers, a nice sharp knife to cut her hair back to a manageable length and a new sword, plain of ornamentation but more than serviceable. Less than four gold bits she'd spent in all but when she'd tried to give the rest back to the Arbiter he had laughed and waved away the purse, producing another out of his coat which bulged even bigger.

For now she found herself sitting around in the common room of
the Golden Fool
with a mug of beer and a plate of bread, honeyed bacon, peppered egg and tiny mushrooms. It was one of the fanciest meals Jezzet had ever eaten but she wolfed it down without a thought to how much it was costing.

After eating Jez sat back and waited, unsure of how to occupy herself. She knew she should find somewhere to spar, to train. It had been two weeks in gaol and about a month since she was last involved in any swordplay. Her master had once said to her, '
You are good, Jezzet, but even the sharpest blade will dull and rust over time without the proper care.
' That was just one of the many things he said to her after a hard days training. The old bastard loved to talk.

Jezzet considered returning to
the Serpents Tooth
to repay Harod for his treachery. The bastard deserved running through for a start but Jez wouldn't be the one to do it. The guards might be there again and she could well do with avoiding another encounter with them. She doubted the Arbiter would bother to free her from gaol a second time.

You could still run, Jez. Forty six gold bits is a small fortune. You could jump a ship to the Dragon Empire and still have twenty bits left. Enough to start over, a new life. The Arbiter wouldn't find you out there. Constance wouldn't find you out there. You could live as you like. A nice simple life.
A dull life, it sounded, when she thought of it. Jez could well imagine she'd be bored after a few short weeks and everywhere she went she managed to pick up new enemies. No, the wilds was where she belonged; fighting, scraping, clawing, killing and fucking for every moment of life the Gods gave her.

Jezzet was still supping her beer when the Arbiter returned. He didn't bother ordering a drink for himself instead he just spotted Jez and marched over. Despite the heat of the morning he was wearing his long brown coat with its sturdy design, many pockets, shiny buttons and a collection of stains, and he had the gall not to look hot. His hair was a tangled mess, his face in dire need of shave and he walked like a man without a care in the world. It both annoyed Jezzet and made her smile.

“Awake I see, Jezzet,” the Arbiter said sitting down opposite her on the little table. He had somehow managed to leave the room without waking Jez. She blamed it on the tiredness and relative safety of an inn after sleeping in a cell for so long; usually she woke at the slightest noise. “You slept well.”

“I'd have slept better on the bed,” Jez replied with none of the Arbiter's good humour.

“Only one bed I'm afraid and that's mine.”

“I don't mind sharing.”

The Arbiter smiled and laughed. Seemed such a good natured laugh but Jez had heard stories of Arbiters, many stories and none of them pleasant.
How can a man who burns folk for a living be so happy?

“Early morning business?” she asked, it was just past dawn and he had already been and come back.

“With the council. Seems the woman I was brought here to kill has managed to escape the gaol. As I was the last to see her they've decided to blame me.”

“And yet here you sit, not in irons.”

“The council wouldn't dare arrest an Arbiter for a supposed crime with no proof. To do so would be an insult to the Inquisition.”

“Why did they need you to kill a woman? Couldn't they do so themselves? Pretty sure they could've killed me if they really tried.” Jez took a pull of beer, she'd need another mug soon enough.

“They did kill her, she came back.”

“People can do that?”

“No,” the Arbiter said shaking his head, “people can't.”

“Uhh... right. So what do you need me for?” Jezzet asked. “You've sprung me from gaol; given me a small fortune and you don't seem to want me for what's between my legs. So why?”

“I need a guide. Someone who knows the places of the wilds, knows the people, how to find certain people. Arbiters are not well loved here or anywhere for that matter, but even less here. You will be able to gather information I cannot and speak to people who wouldn't talk to me. I need you to help me.”

Well that was suitably vague.
“So why are you here?”

“The council of Chade asked the Inquisition to help them kill a woman. The Inquisition sent me to find a man. His name is Gregor H'ost. You've heard of him.”

Jezzet had heard of H'ost alright and it was not a name she wanted to hear ever again, the very mention of it sent chills up her spine because the name H'ost went hand in hand with the name Constance.

“Sorry, Arbiter.” Jezzet fished the pouch of gold from her belt and placed it on the table in front of her. “I can't help you.”

“So you have heard of him.”

“Of course I have. Everyone has. He's the head of the family.”

“The family...”

Jezzet's mouth dropped and she stared at the Arbiter in wonder. “The H'osts. The blooded folk who own the province.”

“This province...”

“Exactly. Only not Chade because it's a free city.”

The Arbiter scratched at the stubble on his face, picked up Jezzet's beer and took a mouthful. “I'm not sure I understand what '
blooded
' means.”

“You really don't know anything at all of the wilds.” Jezzet was starting to doubt this Arbiter's intelligence.

“It's why I need a guide. I didn't have time to study up. One minute I was suffering from a night's heavy drinking and the next I was on a ship bound for here with nothing but a name.”

“The blooded are sort of royalty or something in the wilds. Descended from one bloodline. Nine provinces, nine families. Gregor is the head of the H'ost family.”

“Hmmm, that could make things difficult. At least I have you as a guide.”

“No, you don't.” Jezzet should have been angry but she found it hard to get angry at someone who had just saved her life, even if they were trying to place it right back in danger. “H'ost has an army and at the head of that army is a bitch called Constance. Happens to be the same cunt sucker who wants me dead and worse than dead.”

“You must have wronged her.”

“Ya could say that. I killed her sister for a start.” Jezzet looked up to find the Arbiter watching her through calm eyes. For some reason she felt the need to explain to the man as if his opinion mattered.

“About three years back Constance and her sister, Catherine, were leading H'ost's army. Constance is more like a man but Catherine was different. Bloody good with a sword and some sort of military genius or something. Constance just used to follow her older sister around like a big bodyguard.