The Sunset Warrior - 01 (17 page)

‘Come back—’ G’fand whispered, but he was cut short by a clear dry laugh.

Light blazed in front of them, illuminating the room: a torch.

‘Frost!’ breathed G’fand.

Ronin looked first at the little man, because he held the torch. He was on a staircase off to their right, which they had not been able to see before. He walked down the wooden stairs and over to the thing, which crouched two metres in front of them, touching a hand to its back. He had an odd gait.

‘Ahahaha! Hynd guards the way,’ said the little man in a peculiar raspy voice. He grinned ingenuously.

He was not over a metre in height, his gaunt face belying his thick barrel chest. He had long white hair held in place by a dark leather band and a grizzled beard with more grey than white in it. He had a high forehead and cheekbones, a long thin nose, dark green eyes set wide apart. Ronin was certain that his skin had a yellowish tinge. His mouth split again as he laughed.

The thing, which he now scratched behind its small ears, and to which Ronin now directed his attention, had a different countenance entirely. It had a long wicked-looking snout covered in short brown fur and its large red eyes gleamed from out of a long tapering skull. Its body was perhaps two metres in length, its four legs ending in clawed toes. It had a long thin tail that whipped back and forth like a piece of wire. The body was shiny, covered in a hide ridged and scaly. The whiskers on its snout flicked the air continuously. In all, it partially resembled the rodents that inhabited the Freehold’s walls. Except for the size.

‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ said the little man. ‘I am Bonneduce the Last.’ He bowed, then cocked his head quizzically. ‘And you are—?’

Ronin told him.

‘And of course you have already met Hynd,’ laughed Bonneduce the Last, ‘my friend and protector.’

The animal coughed again, and Ronin saw clearly the sharpness of its teeth. The little man bent to its ear. ‘Friends.’ It was like an exhalation. ‘Friends.’

‘You take a great deal for granted,’ G’fand said. Ronin sheathed his sword.

Bonneduce the Last lifted his thick eyebrows. ‘Is that so? You are from up there.’ He gestured. ‘There is no reason for you to wish me harm. Quite the contrary.’

‘Huh,’ grunted G’fand. ‘You have not met with our Security daggam.’

‘How did you know we were from the Freehold?’ asked Ronin softly.

‘Bones told me,’ the little man answered, his head still cocked.

‘What!’ G’fand sheathed his blade.

‘But I have forgotten my manners,’ said Bonneduce the Last. ‘You must forgive me setting Hynd out. After all, one cannot be too careful; no indeed, not these days.’ He sighed, walked to a wall, and set the torch in a blackened metal niche. Ronin saw then that one leg was shorter than the other. ‘Times past it was different, oh my, yes. One could walk the paths with no need of protection at all.’ He turned back to them. ‘But that was a long time ago, a long time’—he shook his head—‘before the Dark Sections. But now—’ He shrugged resignedly. ‘Well, times change, bringing with them their own fortunes.’

He waved an arm. ‘But come, make yourselves comfortable, for I know that you have travelled hard and far this day. And please, do not be concerned with Hynd.’ He touched the animal on the snout and it lay down with a sigh. ‘You see, he knows you now—your scent—he will not harm you.’

They sat in wide comfortable chairs while Bonneduce the Last closed the front door and went to fetch wine and food.

The dark panelled walls, the tall heavily carved cabinets, the huge stone fireplace filled with fragrant black wood and white ashes, the massive plush chairs in which they reclined, all exuded age and a singular kind of dignity.

Hynd had put his long snout on his forepaws and was now asleep. From somewhere within the depths of the house they heard a soft precise ticking. G’fand rose and moved about the room, peering at objects of unreflective metal and polished stone, running his fingertips along the edges of the sculpted wood. His face was dark and worried.

Ronin looked at him. ‘What troubles you?’

G’fand tapped distractedly at the wood. ‘I am ashamed to tell you. I—do not know. You told me what the Magic Man said, about there being people on the surface, people on the planet other than those in the Freehold. You know, to be told all your life that one thing is true, to believe it, even though it is not what you want to believe—oh, this is not making any sense.’ He turned to Ronin. ‘But now that we have actually met another being, I—’ He glanced quickly at the sleeping animal. ‘Can we trust him, do you think?’

‘Pull up that chair,’ Ronin said softly. ‘Now listen carefully to me. This discovery is quite incredible but there are too many ramifications for me to be able to spend any time being shocked. It is true that we know virtually nothing about this man, who he is, where he comes from—although it is certain he is not from here despite the fact that he seems familiar enough with the city. Which is the point. I was sent here to find a manuscript. The Magic Man told me it would be difficult, but Chill take him! he did not explain just
how
difficult it would be. I think he knew precisely how much to tell me in order to keep my interest. This city is so huge that we could spend countless Cycles here and not find the manuscript.’ He turned his head momentarily to make sure that they were still alone. ‘Now this can be invaluable to us. I know what to look for, where it resides; perhaps he can tell us how to get there. He—’

They heard a small noise, and the subject of their discussion returned carrying an enormous silver tray with finely etched sides loaded with plates of fired clay, glazed and shiny, wooden bowls of food, and skins of wine.

‘I trust that I have brought you enough to eat,’ he said. ‘But there is more inside.’ He set the tray down on a low table in front of them.

While they ate hungrily, the little man talked. He turned to G’fand. ‘I perceive that you are still somewhat wary of Hynd. I do not want that, so perhaps an explanation is in order. You see’—he patted his short leg as he walked over to a high wooden stool—‘I cannot move as swiftly as I once did.’ He chuckled. ‘I disagreed with something that tried to eat me.’ He pulled over the stool and sat near them, his short leg swinging back and forth. ‘He saved my life—’

‘From what?’ interrupted G’fand.

The little man’s face darkened. ‘You would not believe me if I told you.’

‘Oh, I would be most in—’

‘Do you know what he is?’

‘Part rodent,’ Ronin said.

Bonneduce the Last nodded, obviously pleased. ‘Yes, indeed. Quite correct. But as you can see, he is a hybrid, a cross—’

‘—between two different species of animals,’ finished G’fand.

The little man raised his eyebrows. ‘Aha, we have a scholar in our midst,’ he exclaimed, delighted. ‘Oh, yes. Hynd is part crocodile, a water creature which I believe died out centuries ago. You see before you the product of millennia of change.’ He leaned down and gently stroked the horny back. It rippled slightly and Hynd made a small sound in his sleep. ‘Many peoples believed that crocodiles were gods,’ he said.

G’fand wiped his hands. ‘Will you aid us, we have come in search of—’

‘Please.’ Bonneduce the Last held up his hands. ‘Whatever it is will wait now. You are tired. Rest first. Then we shall talk.’

‘But we have little time,’ said G’fand.

Bonneduce the Last slipped down off the stool and walked in his odd gait to the front door. ‘One does not hurry here.’ He slid a thick bolt across the door. ‘Darkness is here. It brings things on its heels, things you are better off not encountering.’ He turned and went to the fireplace. ‘That is why you met Hynd first. I knew of your coming but not when you would arrive.’ He knelt and began to light the fire. ‘Night was falling as you came and I take no chances, not these days anyway. Had you come in my yesterdays you would have encountered me first.’ The flames shot up all at once and the room glowed with light and warmth. They began to feel drowsy with their stomachs full, the heat beside them, and the tensions of the journey finally dissipating. ‘But now, we are in a different age, and nightmares stalk the world.’

Ronin, at the edge of sleep, came awake. ‘What do you mean?’

Bonneduce the Last stood up with his back to the fire and stretched. ‘More anon. Now sleep must come. Blankets are in the cupboard and here is a pitcher of water and a basin. These chairs are large and Hynd is here.’ He started up the stairs, then stopped and turned. ‘In the morning we shall talk of your purpose in coming to the City and I shall aid you as best I may.’ They heard his uneven footsteps climbing the stairs after he was lost to sight.

‘What do you think?’ G’fand asked as he opened the cupboard and pulled out two woven blankets.

Ronin was splashing water on to his face. He shrugged. ‘We have little choice. This seems to be a safer place than we could find on our own.’ He removed his corselet and shirt, pouring water over the shirt in an attempt to get out the dried blood that had seeped through the corselet’s mesh. ‘I cannot see that he means us harm, despite what you may think of the animal. He is right, best to get some sleep. The morning will take care of itself.’

Something reached down and pulled him out of sleep. At first he thought it was a sound and he was at once fully awake. The quiet sonorous ticking, the gentle collapse of ashen logs in the fireplace. Nothing more.

G’fand slept peacefully in the chair across from him. He looked at Hynd. The creature was awake, staring intently at the front door, as if he could see through it. He gave a low cough.

Ronin uncovered himself. The blanket slipped to the floor with barely a rustle. Hynd’s ears twitched but he did not turn his head. Ronin grasped the hilt of his sword and stood quietly next to the creature. He strained his ears but could hear nothing outside.

After a time, Hynd’s ears twitched twice, then he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and apparently went to sleep. Ronin exhaled a long breath.

His shirt was still wet but he donned his corselet and went back into the recesses of the room. He had it in mind to discover the source of the ticking, but as he passed the foot of the stairs, he heard a tiny sound from above. He paused. Oddly, the sound carried clearly on the heavy air. He turned and silently climbed the stairs.

There were two rooms, roughly the same size, both accessible from a square hallway. Light danced in one room and Ronin went to the doorway, peered in.

Bonneduce the Last knelt on a small rug of intricate and peculiar design with his back to the doorway. ‘Come in, Ronin, come in,’ he said without turning.

Ronin knelt beside him. The little man held several small objects in his fist. He shook them lightly.

‘Did you hear me on the stairs?’ asked Ronin.

‘I knew you would hear the sounds.’ And the white shapes tumbled from his opened palm on to the bare floor. He stared intently at them for long minutes. There were seven in all. Glyphs were etched into their many sides. He scooped them up, shook them again. Ronin heard the tiny rattle.

‘I think something was at the door,’ Ronin said softly. ‘Hynd was up.’

The little man nodded. ‘I have no doubt. His hearing is quite keen.’ He flung the pieces on to the floor once again.

‘Those are the Bones,’ Ronin whispered.

Bonneduce the Last studied them with his green eyes but said nothing until he had gathered them up into his hand.

‘The Bones, yes,’ and his voice was like the tolling of a far-off bell. ‘I roll the Bones.’ A sadness came into his eyes, a terrible light shining far back in their recesses, like the agony of ages. ‘I am aptly named, you see.’ He rolled the Bones upon the floor and their tiny clatter seemed now to echo with tantalizing intimations. He scooped them up.

‘They are so ancient that even I cannot trace their lineage. They are used and passed on. It is said that they are fashioned from the ivory teeth of the giant crocodile, a godlike creature that was purported to have lived in a certain valley, along the banks of a wide rich muddy river.’ He shrugged. ‘It is quite possible. Indeed, they are carved of a singular ivory.’

Very softly Ronin said, ‘And what do they tell you, the Bones, when you roll them?’

Bonneduce the Last shook them in his fist and cocked his head to one side. ‘Why, I should think that would be obvious,’ he answered. ‘I see what is to be.’

The Bones rattled in his hand. ‘Of course they cannot tell me everything and frequently the outcomes of those occurrences which interest me most are denied me. Some events are clear, others are merely vague outlines.’ He shrugged. ‘But it is what I do.’

There was a long silence after he had rolled the Bones once more. And then, for the first time, he spoke while they were upon the floor. ‘They talk about you,’ he said slowly.

Ronin felt a moment of irrational chill. ‘It is nonsense,’ he said. ‘I do not wish to hear it.’

The little man stared at the pieces of ivory. ‘You do not fear it,’ he said simply. ‘Why then?’

The question had such innocence that Ronin was momentarily taken aback. Then something crawled within him again. ‘I do not know.’ His palm strayed to the gleaming hilt of his sword.

‘You do not fear death,’ Bonneduce the Last said, with a peculiar intonation. ‘That is good, for soon you shall understand its impermanence. Yet deep within you lies a fear which you—’

‘Enough!’ cried Ronin, lurching to his feet and striking out at the grouping of ivory with his boot. It skittered across the floor. Bonneduce the Last did not move, nor did he speak. He knelt in the same position and did not turn as Ronin angrily strode from the room, even after the sound of his boots could be heard descending the ancient stairs.

Eventually, Bonneduce the Last sighed deeply and got up, made his limping way across the old wooden floorboards. He bent here and there, retrieving the scattered Bones, piece by piece, until he had them all in the palm of his hand. They had never felt so heavy to him, and he gripped them until his knuckles shone as white as the ivory.

He paused then, as if he were to be allowed a choice. He shook his head, and limped slowly back to the rug of intricate and peculiar design, kneeling as before. Very slowly and very deliberately he rolled the Bones upon the floor, and read what their configuration revealed. He wiped the warm sweat from his palms by rubbing them down his breeches.