The Sunset Warrior - 01 (22 page)

His finger was at Ronin’s waist. ‘Ah, and what is this?’ He grasped Ronin’s right arm and the daggam on that side let go. He brought the forearm and hand up. The gauntlet shot silver through the tiny room. Freidal pulled it off Ronin’s hand, examining it. ‘Could this be it? What he sent you Downshaft to find?’ He looked up, into Ronin’s face, said sharply, ‘Is it?’ The false eye flashed. ‘It has begun, you know, the struggle for power.’

Ronin thought of Nirren. Where was he now? He had not been able to locate him before he had left, and now this weighed heavily upon him, as if he had violated a trust. But, he told himself, I had no idea it would begin so soon. Could my knowledge of Borros’s project have helped him? There was no way to tell now.

Freidal grasped his elbow and swung him around. ‘He did not die well. He tried to protect you but his fear won out. He helped.’ Ronin recalled his agitation, his warning. The old man had tried to tell him. ‘How does that make you feel? And you see what he is now. A piece of meat, stinking and putrefying.’ His nostrils dilated and he sniffed delicately. ‘Dead things offend me. But Stahlig was put here for a reason. Even a stupid boy like you can see that.’ He jerked Ronin around and motioned to two daggam, who removed the corpse. Freidal fondled the scaled gauntlet. ‘Be sensible. If you have no interest in power, at least look after your life.’ He stroked Ronin’s chest with a cold palm. ‘It would be a great pity to destroy this body.’ He slapped the gauntlet against the side of his leg. ‘Can the Machine work?’

Abruptly there was a commotion outside in the dark surgery. Freidal started, as if he had forgotten that beyond these walls, the intimacies of the moment, existed the world of the Freehold. He turned his head, as did Ronin.

They saw that three men in close-fitting breeches and jerkins of a soft tan colour had pushed past the daggam who had just returned from disposing of the body. The man in front was slim, with red cheeks and full lips. The jewel-hiked daggers glittered over his heart and at his hip.

‘Saardin,’ he said blandly.

‘Voss,’ Freidal acknowledged coldly. ‘What is the meaning of this intrusion?’

Voss saw Ronin. ‘Ah, there you are! We have all been quite concerned about you.’ He smiled winningly. ‘None the worse for your interview with Security, I trust!’

Freidal’s good eye flicked in its socket and a muscle spasmed in his cheek. ‘This behaviour is inexcusable! Bakka! Turis! See these people out immediately!’

The Chondrin held up his hand. ‘One moment, Saardin. The Salamander wishes to see Ronin. He has been distressed over his whereabouts. His safety, you know—’

Two spots of colour burned on Freidal’s cheeks. ‘What are you saying?’ He was trembling with suppressed rage. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? This is strictly a Security matter.’

Voss smiled icily. ‘No. I am afraid you are mistaken.’

The good eye blazed at the Chondrin, then Freidal turned abruptly, making a cutting gesture through the air with the edge of one hand. ‘Take him then,’ he said thickly. ‘Take him and get out!’

Voss motioned to one of his men, who took Ronin’s weapons from the daggam. Then he stepped up to Freidal and said, ‘He will want this too.’ He slipped the gauntlet from the Saardin’s hand, and the four of them departed.

The woman with the broad face was gone. A Bladesman sat in her place. They went through the inner double doors and down the hallway. At the end, the Bladesman carrying Ronin’s weapons handed them to Voss and he and his fellows disappeared through the door on the right.

Voss opened the opposite door and led Ronin into a low-ceilinged room lit by lamps. There were no Overheads. The walls were dark and bare. Across the room was another door. There was a single wooden chair in the centre of the room. Voss indicated that Ronin should sit. Ronin shrugged. He had no illusions as to why he was here. He had been witness to too many events; and too many people were gone.

The sharp smell of cloves foretold the approach. He had not heard a door open. The Salamander stood over Ronin. He wore black shirt and breeches and gleaming thigh-length boots. A fine mesh vest of red gold winked in the light. He wore a wide crimson leather belt from which a scabbarded sword hung. The ruby lizard was at his throat.

Voss, leaning on Ronin’s sword, handed the Salamander the gauntlet. The big man grunted, turning the thing over in his large hands. ‘So?’

Voss shrugged. ‘Apparently he brought it from Downshaft.’

The Salamander stared at Ronin. ‘How far did you go?’

‘All the way.’

He glanced at Voss. ‘No wonder Freidal was interested.’

Ronin heard a tiny sound behind him, as if someone had slipped into the room, but the Salamander did not turn and he could not twist in the chair. Perhaps it was nothing.

‘My dear boy, I hope you appreciate the great service I have done you. Freidal can be most unpleasant when he has a mind to.’

Ronin stared into the eyes like black coals. ‘So I noticed. He killed the Medicine Man.’

‘Oh?’ The Salamander’s eyebrows raised. ‘What a pity. You knew him a long time.’ He spread his hands. ‘I am most sorry.’

‘The Magic Man too, I imagine.’

‘Oh, dear me, no. He could hardly afford to do that. No, Borros is much too valuable. He is being detained several Levels below us.’

‘I was not aware that you knew so much about him.’

‘Oh, I see.’ The Salamander frowned. ‘That was careless of me.’ Then he shrugged. ‘But one hopes, my dear boy, that you can be treated as a friend, an ally—’

‘You are as desperate as he is—’

‘Not at all, dear boy, not at all. I merely think that you should be back where you belong. There has always been room for you here.’

Voss moved minutely, and Ronin said,‘To be your Chondrin? You already have one. In any event, we have been through this before. What if I should turn you down a second time?’

The Salamander’s expression changed. His eyes smouldered and he smote Ronin across the face. ‘What an abysmal fool you are. I offered you everything and you spit at me. Did you believe that I could forget?’

‘At the time I believed that you would understand—’

‘Oh, I understood! I trained you to be the greatest fighting machine in the Freehold. I saw the ability lurking within you. It took a master to bring it out, nurture it, let it blossom. An Instructor could never have accomplished it.’

‘You make it seem as if it was all your doing.’

‘But it was! You were there and I moulded you. You became what I wished you to become.’

‘Not quite.’

The Salamander bristled, and his voice was as smooth as silk. ‘I trained you to be my Chondrin; an unbeatable warrior. Did you think that I was wasting my time in picking boys and training them? A reason behind it all. And what was your response? You return the care lavished upon you with insult.’

‘There was no—’

‘Silence!’ the Salamander roared. His face was coloured by rage. His enormous bulk loomed over Ronin, the threat of death. ‘Do not presume,’ he said quietly, icily, ‘to tell me what I already know.’ He bent forward and Ronin felt Voss very close at his side and slightly behind him, out of his peripheral vision. ‘I should have seen it; you lacked the initiative. It all came so easily to you, you never regarded the mental processes as important. That was a mistake; a fatal mistake.’ The stygian eyes were glittery and fever-bright as they stared at Ronin. ‘Now Voss has initiative. He—eliminated two other Students of mine in order to ensure his position as Chondrin.’ He laughed, a short strange sound. ‘I would not trade him for you. What conceit!’ He stood up and looked past Ronin’s head for a moment before his eyes returned. ‘Now we shall see how long it takes for you to tell me what I want to know.’ He signalled to Voss. ‘Bring the—’

At that moment the door to the hallway was thrown open and a Bladesman came hurriedly in. The Salamander looked up.

‘The Magic Man,’ the Bladesman said, ‘has escaped from Security.’

The Salamander’s eyes flicked again behind Ronin, and he heard a slight movement. ‘Oh, that fool!’ He looked at Voss and threw him the gauntlet. ‘You know what to do.’ He whirled and followed the man from the room.

‘On your feet,’ Voss said coldly. He tucked the gauntlet into his leather belt.

He got up and they went out the way they had come in. Six men were in the outer room, two guarding the double doors to the Corridor, and Ronin thought, In that Freidal told the truth: it has begun.

They went out through the doors and Voss prodded him to the right, down the Corridor. He heard a distant clamour, the pounding of boots, the clang of metal, intermittent shouts. He felt the tip of Voss’s dagger at his back.

‘Where are we headed?’ Ronin asked.

‘You do not expect an answer to that.’

Ronin shrugged.

‘How could you have done it?’

Ronin turned his neck, felt the bite of the iron tip. ‘What?’

‘Gone away from him.’

‘I am what I am.’

‘Huh! He is right, you
are
a fool! Did you not realize that you were bound to him?’

Ronin said nothing.

‘You had a moral obligation—’

And he almost missed it. The sliver of shadow along the wall ahead of them, around the arc of the Corridor, so that he did not think that Voss had seen it. He kept his pace steady, and thought, Any diversion must be used; he is most vulnerable here in the Corridor. Once we get to a destination, there will be little chance. He thought then of the whirring in the air, angry and hot, cutting through the sounds of the birds, the accuracy of Voss’s throws.

A man was in front of them, and Voss still had not seen the small slice of shadow. He must be pressed against the wall, Ronin thought.

‘You owe him your life,’ Voss said. ‘Including your loyalty.’

The figure came out from the wall and Ronin dropped, rolling to the right, across the Corridor, came up with right arm extended to ward off the expected dagger blow. But Voss was not even looking in his direction. He stood facing the figure, his face registering shock.

And Ronin felt the adrenalin pumping. Nirren! Nirren stood before Voss, bright sword unsheathed, held before him.

Voss unfroze. ‘What are you doing so far Upshaft?’

Nirren grinned, his mouth a tight line. ‘Where were you taking Ronin?’

‘That is no business of yours. Out of the way!’

‘And if he chooses not to accompany you?’

‘The choice is not his to make.’

‘I say it is.’

Voss’s hands became a blur and simultaneously Nirren lunged like a dancer, extending his front leg very low. The sword shot out as the air hummed. Voss’s face held a measure of surprise. His eyes were still looking at the jewel-hilted dagger lodged head-high in the far wall as the blade pierced his chest. He stood that way for a moment, his blood running hotly along Nirren’s blade. Then his right hand twitched once and, as Nirren withdrew the sword, he crumpled over as if he were made of fabric.

Nirren touched the face with the toe of his boot, the head turned slackly. He swung to face Ronin and grinned. ‘It is too bad. I would have enjoyed seeing you take him.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, where have you been? And G’fand’s gone missing.’

Ronin went across the Corridor, took his weapons from Voss’s corpse. He pulled the gauntlet free from the other’s belt. ‘I have been on a journey Downshaft, for the Magic Man—’

‘Then you got through to him!’

‘Yes, and I have much to tell you,’ Ronin said, strapping on his scabbard. They moved towards a nearby Stairwell. ‘But first I must find the Magic Man. He has escaped from Freidal.’

Nirren nodded. ‘All right. I am in the midst of following that Rodent. At last I believe I know who it is, fantastic though it may seem—’

Ronin cut him off. ‘Listen, fantastic is the word for what I have learned. The Magic Man is correct; we are not alone on this planet—’

‘What?’

They both caught the flash at once, but the thing was already in the air. Nirren’s jaws swung wide and he threw his hands up in a vain reflexive motion. A gout of blood erupted along his neck. He staggered back and fell clumsily to the floor.

Ronin raced into the Stairwell but the commotion of running feet and raised voices echoing in the Stairwell made it impossible to tell which way the assailant had fled.

He ran back into the Corridor and knelt beside Nirren. The front of his jerkin was soaked in blood. He ripped off a length of the Chondrin’s shirt, withdrew the dagger at his neck, his fingers cold on the jewelled hilt. He put the fabric against the wound. White cloth stained red.

Nirren’s eyes were still clear and bright with intelligence. Ronin expected him to ask about the Magic Man’s project. Instead he said, ‘What happened to G’fand? You know.’

There was pain in Ronin’s eyes. ‘I took him with me. I thought he would be of help with his knowledge of the glyphs.’

‘And was he?’ The breathing was laboured as the body struggled with the shock.

‘Yes.’ Ronin looked into his eyes. ‘He was killed. He—’

Nirren’s body trembled. The cloth at his neck was entirely crimson now. He gripped Ronin’s arms and a sadness that Ronin could not understand danced behind his eyes. ‘The Rodent,’ he managed to get out with difficulty. ‘I am sure now, the dagger, go Upshaft, after—’ His head fell and Ronin held it. ‘Last time, follow Up—’ He tried to laugh then, choked instead. The light in his eyes was fading; they were opaque, like stones. ‘Just thinking—team—what a team.’ His eyes closed as if from fatigue. ‘All gone now—Ronin, I am sorry.’ Then the blood, which he had been holding back with a last effort, came out of his mouth.

Up and up and up. The darkness rushing by and the clamour from below fading, but it was as if a strong wind rushed in his ears and he heard Nirren sighing again,
All gone now,
and knew it was true. The world had collapsed and he was adrift in the dark, directionless. But his legs did not understand. They pumped strongly, up the Stairwell.
Follow Upward,
Nirren had asked, and he would do it now, and he felt the burning within him, the hate growing and pulsing, fed from the secret fires of many events. Surely it was the Rodent who had slain Nirren, for he had been on his trail and had been very close. Closer than he knew. His lungs worked as he raced through the Levels of the Freehold. Upward, ever upward. Once he stared down at his hands, saw with some surprise that he had slipped on the silvered gauntlet and that he clutched the dagger that had killed the Chondrin. Jewels on the hilt? And then Borros came into his mind. Escaped and gone where? Upshaft surely.