The barracks were almost in sight, when Denny spied two Greencoats ahead, leaning idly against a rough wooden shack.
‘There’s Platt and Firby,’ he said, lifting his hand up to wave, but they hadn’t seen him before two figures emerged from the passing crowd and grasped the Greencoats’ attention.
Something about the pair gave Nobul pause. He couldn’t say what it was, just a feeling in his gut, but it was enough to make him stop Denny before he could call out, pulling him to one side of the street to watch.
One of the newcomers was a man, lean, just over average height, with a mop of brown hair. The way he held himself Nobul could tell he displayed confidence. Whether that meant he was a fighter or a bluffer was impossible to tell, but either way he carried a sword at his side. He smiled at the two Greencoats, chatting with an easy familiarity, and it was clear he liked to talk. Even from this distance, though, Nobul could see a mass of bruises on his face. Clearly someone hadn’t liked what he had to say recently.
The second was a woman, tall, statuesque even. She held her head down, as though trying to blend in, but with her cropped blonde hair and striking features that wasn’t easy. Despite her attempts to look insignificant, it was obvious she was thickly muscled about the shoulders, slim in the waist – a warrior’s frame.
Something was odd about the pair of them, and Nobul knew it.
‘Friends of yours?’ he asked Denny, keeping his eyes on the four of them. The handsome one with the bruised face made a joke and the Greencoats laughed, but not the woman.
‘Platt and Firby? Yeah, known ’em for ages. Firby’s being tipped for serjeant before long. Why, what’s up?’
Nobul didn’t answer. Something most definitely
was
up, and if he waited long enough … there – a purse passed from the dandy’s hand to one of the Greencoats while they were all still laughing.
‘See that?’ Nobul said, almost ready to walk over there and ask what the fuck they were up to.
‘See what?’ said Denny.
‘Bribe money.’
‘What the fuck do you care? Lots of the fellas do it.’
Nobul was suddenly angry. Lots of fellas did do it, but that didn’t make it right. The Greencoats being so easy to buy off was why the Guild was rife in this city – because they were allowed to be. That was why he’d been forced to pay protection money for years – because there was no one he could turn to. That’s why there were people going missing – because the Greencoats were too scared or their palms too well greased to investigate who was really involved. That’s why his boy had died …
No, that wasn’t why his boy had died, was it? His boy had died because Nobul was a cold, hard, bullying bastard.
‘Yeah. Lots of fellas do it,’ Nobul said, feeling his anger die.
He watched as they finished their conversation, and the man bid his goodbyes to the two Greencoats. He and his woman disappeared into the crowd, and for a minute Nobul considered following them. He took a step forward, but there was a sudden wail, a cry that rose over the hubbub of the street.
Denny turned. ‘What the fu—’
He was cut off by another cry, this time from somewhere else.
Like it was infectious, like a plague carried on the wind, the cries went from mouth to mouth and a panic gripped the streets. A woman ran past clutching her child’s hand. A man pushed his cart full of oysters, spilling his load and not caring a jot. Some old man dropped to his knees sobbing his eyes out.
Nobul moved forward into the crowd, demanding to know what was wrong, but people were just pushing past, gripped by fear. Finally he grabbed a passer-by, a woman of middling years with tears in her eyes.
‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.
She looked up at him as though in a daze. ‘We’ve lost,’ she gasped. ‘The Khurtas have beat them.’
Nobul stared at her in disbelief, then, feeling her squirming in his grip, he let her go.
Then he heard it – a mournful cry rising over the blather and noise.
‘The king is dead!’ someone cried. ‘They’ve murdered King Cael!’
Nobul looked at Denny.
Neither of them knew what to say.
I
t felt comfortable on his hip; the best blade he’d owned since … well, forever. It had been a bargain too. He and Kaira had bought it from a stall in a Northgate market, and as Merrick had tested its weight and run his finger along the keen edge he could only wonder what some scabby street trader was doing with such superior steel. The vendor obviously had no idea what he possessed, because he’d sold it for a pittance. Apparently the stallholder’s entire batch of weapons had come from an old burned-out forge, the owner having vanished. Someone had missed out on a lot of coin, but that wasn’t Merrick’s problem. He had a sword worthy of him now – that was all that mattered. If Shanka and his thugs, or any other bastard for that matter, wanted to take him on they’d better know how to fight or would find themselves stuck with three foot of folded steel.
And that wasn’t the only ace up his sleeve.
Kaira was beautiful, he had to give her that. She could do with a bit of rouge on her cheeks and lips, perhaps some kohl around the eyes, but she was still better looking than most of the ladies Merrick was used to consorting with. And in addition to her looks she could clearly handle herself in a fight. She was almost as tall as he was, the muscles beneath her tunic taut and hard. Broad in the shoulder and keen of eye, she went about her duty of guarding him with a vigilance that made him feel … safe? Safer than he’d felt in a long time anyway, at least as long as he’d been in debt to Shanka.
Now all he had to do was get a smile out of her, and who knew where that might lead. It wasn’t easy though; she was a solemn one and no mistake. News about the king certainly hadn’t made that any better.
Merrick didn’t waste his time fawning over the Mastragalls, but neither did he despise them like some. He knew the necessity for a country to be ruled by a strong hand, and he of all people couldn’t begrudge someone a little bit of privilege – he’d had enough of his own before he’d pissed it all away. Kaira was taking it hard. She’d received the news of Cael’s murder with a stiff lip and a firm jaw when the hysteria had first hit the streets, but he could tell she was struggling with it.
Well, he guessed some people were just unfailingly patriotic.
The pair made their way through the streets, her at his shoulder, his ever-present guardian. Everyone they passed was subdued; there was something in the air, some sense of anticipation that before long something was going to happen; and nothing good.
No announcement had yet been made by the street criers, but Merrick knew it was coming. Having defeated their armies at Kelbur Fenn there would be nothing to stop the Khurtas sweeping through the Free States. Rumour was rife and panic would soon follow. The best they could hope for was that the Khurtas would pillage enough to be satisfied, then piss off back where they came from. Deep down, Merrick knew the chances of that were slim, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.
He was finished with all this now, his part over with. As soon as he’d said his goodbyes and all debts were cleared, he’d be out of this shit tip faster than coin from a gambler’s purse.
‘Where are we going now?’ Kaira asked.
Merrick hadn’t been expecting questions – she’d not asked anything of him so far – and he was almost caught off guard.
‘Sorry, is there somewhere else you need to be?’
She didn’t answer, just shook her head, which only made him feel bad.
‘If you must know, we’re off to see Palien. My part’s all done; people have been paid off, everyone’s ready to move. I can tell him the whys and wherefores and be on my merry way. Don’t worry, we won’t be long. Then I can take you to that waterfront bar, as promised.’
May as well have one last drink before I leave all this behind.
More silence. He’d tried to tempt her more than once with the promise of fine wine and finer company, but it was clear she wasn’t interested. Merrick found that most annoying.
‘Then we’re almost done?’
‘Seriously, do you have other plans? Is Palien not paying you enough? Have you got more lucrative prospects elsewhere?’
She shook her head again. ‘I’m just keen for this to be over.’
He glanced at her, but could read little on that strong face of hers. ‘If it makes you feel better, that makes two of us.’
‘You have doubts about this?’
‘Doubts? Who said anything about doubts? I just want this to be finished so I can go back to my life. You’ve got no idea how much I’m being inconvenienced.’
‘So all you care about is—’
‘What do you want to know, Kaira?’ He was beginning to prefer it when she was silent. ‘Is all I care about money? Yes, I guess it is. Do I feel guilty about …’
He stopped. It wouldn’t do to be talking about this in the street but she’d prodded him in the wrong place.
Was he proud of himself? Of course he fucking wasn’t, but what could he do? If he hadn’t done this, and to the best of his capability, he’d be rotting in a ditch somewhere. Kaira probably didn’t appreciate that, but he didn’t have to explain it to her. She was his strongarm, she wasn’t being paid to know the ins and outs, she was being paid to keep him alive long enough to see a boatload of slaves off across the deep blue.
‘Perhaps we should talk about this later,’ he found himself saying.
Did he want to talk about it later? He’d thought he didn’t want to talk about it any time. Talking about it made it real, made him actually think about what he had done, what he was condemning those poor wretches to, and that couldn’t be good. Could it?
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Merrick trying his best not to contemplate the consequences of his actions, both for him and for those whose lives he was brokering. When they got to the house where Palien was holed up, all he cared about was getting this business concluded and getting out alive.
The pair of them were ushered up three flights of stairs, to find Palien dining on a sunlit terrace.
‘I hope it’s good news, Ryder,’ Palien said as he ate. Eating, always eating. How did he manage to stay lean as a starving wolf … and twice as vicious?
‘Of course it’s good news,’ Merrick replied with a smile. It wouldn’t do to look frightened in front of this evil bastard. ‘The Harbour Tower is yours. Half the Greencoats who will be on duty are also paid off. We won’t get anywhere with the Sentinels, but that’s not really a concern, is it? We’re not taking anyone from the palace.’
Palien nodded as he ate, his lips curling up with satisfaction.
‘Excellent,’ he said through half-chewed steak. ‘And with old man Cael gone to the Lord of Crows it’ll be that much easier, now that the city is in mourning. They’ll all be too preoccupied with their own woes to notice a few missing peasants.’
‘We don’t know he’s dead,’ Kaira said. Her voice was so forceful and determined it stopped Palien mid chew.
Merrick felt the sudden tension in the air, heard Palien’s men shuffling in discomfort. It was never a good idea to speak unless spoken to in situations like this, but obviously no one had told Kaira that.
‘I guess what she means is, you need to stay on your guard, at least until this is all finished,’ Merrick said as quickly as he could. ‘You shouldn’t rely on anything until the boat’s loaded and you’re in the clear.’
Palien slowly nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Kaira. ‘I guess you’re right. I’m starting to see why they hired you, Ryder.’
‘It’s not just because of my winning smile.’ Best to try to make light of this, before Kaira got them both gutted. ‘So, if that’s our business concluded, I’ll be off. I assume my debts will all be—’
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Palien was looking straight at him now.
‘Er … my part in this … is over now?’
Palien smiled, but there was no humour in it. In fact it was the most evil thing Merrick had ever seen.
‘Don’t be fucking stupid, Ryder. You still need to see the merchandise on its way and collect the payment. What made you think we were finished with you yet?’
The fact that I’ve seen this deal through from start to finish despite considerable risk to my person
. ‘Well … I …’
Palien nodded to one of his men, and Merrick suddenly felt hands grasp his jerkin. He barely had time to protest, time to glance at Kaira who stood there watching as he was dragged to the edge of the roof and dangled over it, the tips of his toes seeking to find purchase.
‘You keep wriggling, don’t you, Ryder?’ Palien said, turning his attention back to his meal. ‘Like a worm on a hook. Always looking for your escape route, always looking to see if you can jump off the horse before it gets to the finish.
Well you can’t!
’ He screamed those last words so loud Merrick thought his ears would pop. ‘This does not end for you until we fucking say it does. Is that clear enough?’
‘Yes,’ he said, as bravely as he could. Glancing down he saw the ground three storeys below, and wondered if the mud was wet and sloppy enough to cushion the fall.
Somehow he doubted it.
‘Good. Then I trust I can leave you to make the final preparations. Will you need any more hands to help you collect the payment?’
Merrick shook his head. The fewer of Palien’s thugs that were involved with the money, the less chance they’d have of a double cross. And the chances of that were already pretty high. ‘We can handle that. Bolo’s well aware of the consequences should he decide to fuck us around.’
‘Excellent.’ Palien signalled for the thug to pull him back to safety. ‘On your way then.’ With that he went back to his meal.
Merrick wasn’t about to hang around for anyone else to show him the sights and headed for the stairs as quick as he could manage without running like a little girl from a spider.
Once they were out on the street he could hardly hold his anger.
‘What the fuck was that? “We don’t know he’s dead.” You don’t contradict Palien like that. Are you trying to get us both killed?’
‘I couldn’t stop myself. That man has—’
‘That man has the power to see us both dead and disappeared. If he wants to pleasure himself over a painting of our poor dead queen then wipe his cock on your tunic, he can do it, and you should keep your mouth shut while he does.’