Swords: 06 - The Third Book of Lost Swords - Stonecutter's Story (11 page)

      
“Magistrate?”

      
“A thought has struck me. Never mind, go to your meeting. Learn all that you can from the interesting Natalia. What you learn may be of great importance.”

      
Kasimir set out, pondering the situation as he walked. He had to pay careful attention to where he was going, because his goal this time was in a different part of the city from those which he had previously visited.

      
The White Temple of Eylau, like most of its kind around the world, was a large, pyramidal building. This example was faced with white marble, while a good many others Kasimir had seen were only painted white. And in this building, as in almost all White Temples everywhere, a good part of its sizable volume was devoted to hospital facilities. Here no one who came seeking food or medical care or emergency shelter would be turned away. Nor would anyone be absolutely forced to pay, though donations were solicited from all who appeared able to give anything at all.

      
Kasimir’s appointment with Natalia was in the Chapel of Ardneh, also a standard feature of most White Temples. Here the chapel was located about halfway up the slope-sided structure. It was a white, large room, well lighted by many windows in its slanting outer wall. The room held a number of plain wooden chairs and benches. Above the altar an Old World votive light burned steadily, a pure whiteness without flame or smoke. The altar itself was dominated by a modern image of the ancient god Ardneh. Images of Ardneh as a rule—this one was no exception—were almost always at least partially abstract, in keeping with the idea that the eternal foe of the archdemon Orcus was essentially different from all other gods.

      
This particular image was an assemblage of bronze blocks and slabs, looking eerily bluish because of some quality in the perpetual glow of the votive light above.

      
Kasimir took a seat near the middle of the simply furnished chapel and looked around him, at the few others who had come to this place for worship or meditation.

      
There was one more statue in the chapel, this one of the god Draffut. Carved of some brown stone, it stood in its own niche or grotto off to one side. In this image, as tall as a man, the popular Lord of Beasts and of Healing looked like nothing more, Kasimir thought, than a dog standing on his hind legs. During the last few years a rumor had swept across the land to the effect that Draffut was recently dead; of course a great many people held that the Beastlord, like the other gods, had been dead for many years. Meanwhile considerable numbers of folk continued to insist that some of the gods or all of them were still alive, and would come back one day to call people to account for what they had been doing in the divinities’ absence.

      
Natalia entered the chapel shortly after Kasimir had arrived, and came quietly to take a chair beside his. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse and sandals with narrow straps, more citified clothing than when Kasimir had seen her last, though hardly of any higher quality.

      
“Hope I’m not late,” she whispered demurely.

      
“Not at all.” Actually he had rather enjoyed the interval of waiting, the chance for peaceful meditation. He might not want to work all day in a White Temple, but they were good places to visit, havens where you could sit as long as you wished and not be bothered, unless it might be by one of your fellow visitors. Street people now and then came in to take up collections for this or that, or frankly as beggars. None were ejected, as a rule, unless others complained about them to the White Guards.

      
But, back to business. “How did the modeling go?” he asked.

      
“Not as embarrassing as I had feared—and actually they paid me a trifle more for it than I had expected.”

      
“That’s good. But I suppose you’ve seen nothing of what I wanted you to look for?”

      
“Nothing, I am sorry to say.”

      
“And you go back there tomorrow?”

 
      
“That’s right. He says he’ll want me for several days yet at least. It’s the master himself I’m posing for.”

      
“De Borron, then. Good. What kind of tools is he using to work the stone?”

      
She blinked at him solemnly as if she understood this question must be important but could not think why. “A hammer and a chisel. Several different chisels actually. Nothing like the special item that you described to me.”

      
“All right. And you haven’t mentioned that special item to anyone else—hey?”

      
“Not at all. Of course not. You told me not to.” Natalia’s new low-cut upper garment showed a lot of pale skin below the former neckline of the old peasant blouse. Her hair was now worn in a new style too, Kasimir realized vaguely, though it still looked like strings of dishwater.

      
He asked her: “Who else is present in the studio?”

      
“It’s about the same as when you were there, people coming and going. Did you want me to try to keep track of them?”

      
“Not necessarily. No, you’d better just concentrate on the important thing.”

      
Their conversation about conditions in the Red Temple meandered along, pausing when a stooped old priest in white robes moved close past them on his way to light a candle at the altar.

      
Kasimir was coming slowly to the realization that he found himself attracted to this woman. Somewhere in his mind, not very far below the surface, he resented the idea of the sculptor and all those red-robes staring at her body. The truth was that he wanted to stare at it himself.

      
But the purpose of this meeting of course was business. Instead of inviting Natalia to his room, he asked her if she would like something to eat or drink. As before, she accepted, and they moved to a nearby tavern where they enjoyed some food and drink. He also passed over the coins due her for her day’s observations and report.

      
Telling himself it was his duty to become better acquainted with his agent, he justified somewhat prolonging the meeting; and the truth was that they each enjoyed the other’s company. They exchanged some opinions upon art, and medicine, and life.

      
But soon Natalia was growing restless; she had other things to do, she said, and didn’t volunteer any hint of what they were. Kasimir didn’t volunteer any questions. Instead he went back to the inn alone.

      
It was near dusk when he arrived again at the sign of the Refreshed Travelers, and he felt somewhat tired. It had been a long and busy day, beginning with his and Wen Chang’s visit to the Blue Temple in the morning.

      
But the long day was not over yet.

      
As soon as he entered the stable below their rooms, he discovered Lieutenant Komi and his men, fully armed and mobilized. Wen Chang was there too and they were waiting for Kasimir, in fact almost on the point of mounting up and leaving without him. Komi and his men looked ready and willing to say the least; the days of boredom were evidently beginning to tell on them.

      
Wen Chang said: “Word has just come from Captain Almagro. He has located one of the men who was in the fight yesterday, in which our foreman Kovil was killed. The man we want is hidden in an infamous den of thieves, and Almagro would like our help in digging him out.”

      
The clouds of sleep were cleared in a moment from Kasimir’s brain. “Then I am ready!”

Chapter Ten

      
In a city with a population the size of Eylau’s there would always be large numbers of folk awake and wanting light, and the city would never know total darkness as long as lamps and torches could be made to burn. But night was on the way to enfolding Eylau as completely as it ever did before Wen Chang and Kasimir were ready to mount their riding-beasts. As soon as they were mounted, and Lieutenant Komi and his troop of Firozpur soldiers were in the saddle behind them, their small force set out from the inn. The soldiers’ uniforms and some of their weapons were effectively concealed under their desert capes.

      
Riding close beside Wen Chang at the head of the little column was a sergeant of the city Watch. This was the man who had been sent by Captain Almagro, to inform Almagro’s partners that he was about to launch the raid, to request their help, and to guide them to the site as quickly as possible.

      
Kasimir, riding just behind Wen Chang and their guide, was wide awake now, not tired at all; the excitement of the chase was growing in him. So far their mounts were able to maintain a rapid pace; at this hour the darkened streets of the city held comparatively few people, and those who found themselves in the way of the silent, businesslike procession quickly moved aside.

      
Streets in the vicinity of the Inn of the Refreshed Travelers were comparatively broad. But it soon became apparent that their guide was leading them into a very different portion of the city. As they approached the district where the raid was to take place, the streets grew narrower and their windings even more convoluted.

      
This gradual constriction continued for some minutes, during which time the party, now often riding in single file, made the best speed possible. Then their guide signaled them for even slower movement, and less noise.

      
They had now come in sight of distant lamps, sparkling on a broad expanse of water. Kasimir realized that they were now once more near the bank of the Tungri, which here as elsewhere in the city was lined with docks and warehouses. He had no way to tell how far this site might be from the place where the bodies had been found. Boats bearing lights were passing in the night. Though the sea was thousands of kilometers distant, the river here evidently bore a great volume of local freight and passenger traffic.

      
In this section of the metropolis the residential area closest to the docks and warehouses was obviously a slum. On both sides of the street, tenements leaned against each other. Few lights showed in these close-packed, ramshackle buildings. The torches carried by a couple of the Firozpur troopers made a moving island of light in the narrow, dusty street.

      
In this neighborhood the people who appeared in the street were losers, the Emperor’s children if Kasimir had ever seen the type. These slum-dwellers were quicker than people in other neighborhoods had been to scramble out of the way of the advancing column. Anonymous voices hidden on roofs and in windows above called out oaths and comments against the mounted men below, whom they took for a patrol of the Watch.

      
Presently the sergeant who was riding beside Wen

Chang pulled his mount to a halt. Close ahead, two figures, one of them carrying a small torch, had just emerged from the mouth of a dark alley. In a moment Kasimir was able to recognize the man holding the torch as Captain Almagro.

      
The Captain came forward on foot and greeted his two chief colleagues eagerly but quietly as they swung down out of their saddles. Then he led them just inside the mouth of the alley, where he introduced them to his companion, a middle-aged man who tonight would be nameless in the line of duty, a wizard in the employ of the Watch.

      
“Before we discuss anything else,” the Magistrate murmured to his old friend, “tell me whether you have managed to take care of the items I requested at our last meeting.”

      
“I have set things in motion,” said Almagro. “That is all I have been able to do so far.”

      
“Then that is all that I can ask.”

      
Next the Captain conducted a low-voiced briefing for the new arrivals, on the subject of the coming action.

      
The building he meant to raid had been abandoned as a warehouse several years ago, and was now notorious as a den of thieves and cutthroats. On looking out of the mouth of the alley where they now stood they could see it, just visible at the end of the street, less than a hundred meters away. The old warehouse was four or five stories high—depending on how you counted certain irregular additions—and contained perhaps as many as a hundred rooms. Almagro’s basic plan was to break into the place through several entrances at the same time.

      
The Captain had assembled a dozen of his own men here in the alley, and with the reinforcements provided by the Firozpur he planned on being able to conduct the raid with overwhelming force. An attack on such a scale would surprise whatever criminals were in the building, and with any luck at all none of them would be able to get away.

      
The official wizard followed the Captain’s briefing with a reassuring prediction that the gang in the building would be able to mount little or no magical resistance to the raid.

      
After Wen Chang had approved the plan of attack, the Watch sergeant who had served as guide took over the job of showing Lieutenant Komi exactly where his dismounted men should be deployed. More than a score of feet went shuffling off into the darkness. A couple of other Watch patrolmen were going to remain in this alley, keeping watch over the riding-beasts.

      
Almagro announced that he himself, with the Watch-wizard beside him, was going to direct operations from street level, while the Magistrate and Kasimir were to accompany the party attacking through the roof. Wen Chang approved this proposal too.

      
Before leaving his two unofficial colleagues, the Captain cast a worried glance at Kasimir, then shook his head and pronounced a last-minute warning.

      
“Doctor, there are a good many people in that building who aren’t exactly going to welcome us with open arms when they see us. So mind yourself. In fact it might be a good idea if you stayed here, with the men who’ll be watching our riding-beasts, until the fighting’s done.”

      
“Nonsense, I can take care of myself.” Kasimir’s tone was a little stiff; perhaps more than just a little. “I carry a dagger. And if one of your men will loan me his cudgel, I am quite prepared to answer for my own safety.”

      
Almagro glanced at Wen Chang, shrugged, and turned to one of his own men nearby to give a quiet order. Kasimir accepted with thanks the oaken cudgel that was handed to him. The weapon was half a meter long, and weighted at one end. At the other end was a leather thong by which the club could be secured to its wielder’s wrist. Kasimir had observed that cudgels like this were standard Watch equipment in Eylau, though tonight of course the men embarking upon the raid had equipped themselves with heavier weapons, including swords and axes.

      
Kasimir tucked the club into his belt, where it rested between two of the bulging pouches of his augmented medical kit. Then he signed that he was ready.

      
Wen Chang before leaving the inn had buckled on a lovely rapier, and now he was making sure of the fit of this weapon in its sheath. Kasimir had once or twice seen this sword among the Magistrate’s belongings, though he had never seen him wearing it until now.

      
With everything in readiness, Almagro’s two unofficial allies followed him through the alley, which was pitch-black except for his small, guttering torch. But the Watch officer seemed to know his way as well as a blind man on a familiar route.

      
Pausing after they had gone about a hundred meters, the Captain whispered to his companions that they were about to enter a building, another next door to the one they were about to raid. They stood in a doorway of this building, another abandoned-looking warehouse, on the side opposite their target structure. A ruined door on the level of the alley offered a sinister welcome, and once they were inside the building they confronted a tottering, treacherous stairway that Almagro whispered would bring them all the way up to the roof.

      
The darkness immediately surrounding their torchlight as they climbed was quiet, while crude music and drunken laughter sounded from a few buildings away. The night air smelled of the nearby river, an odor half fresh and half polluted. Kasimir listened in vain for any sounds from elsewhere in the building they had entered, or from the other assault parties, which ought to be getting into position at this moment. If all was going according to the plan Almagro had hastily outlined, two groups would be approaching at street level, and two more through windows on upper floors, one reached by a ladder, one by a low roof. This assault upon the roof would complete the encirclement, and if everything went well the wanted people should be trapped with their loot inside.

      
The group approaching the front door had the most delicate task. They were mostly Firozpur, on the theory that no one inside would be likely to recognize the desert troopers; but the group included one sergeant of the Watch. It would be his responsibility to raise a loud outcry at the proper moment, signaling the other assault teams that the time had come for them to make their moves.

      
Meanwhile, Wen Chang, Kasimir, and their group had reached the roof of the warehouse. A moment later they had gained the roof of the target building, equally high, by the simple expedient of stepping over to it across a gap of space less than a meter wide.

      
The moon had come out clearly now; probably, thought Kasimir, it would soon be obscured again by fast-moving clouds, but meanwhile it was a very useful source of illumination on the open roof, above the narrow, twisting canyons of the streets. Kasimir could see that there were two or perhaps three trapdoors in the roof, which was basically a tarry surface under a layer of light boards. Its contours formed a wilderness of little peaks and gables and ridges, pierced here and there by a skylight. Probably all the skylights had once been covered with oiled skin or paper, but the ones that Kasimir could see were now broken open to the weather. Iron bars, rusted but formidable, still defended these openings against human entry.

      
Two of the Watch troopers among the assault party on the roof, working under a sergeant’s direction, blocked two of the three visible trapdoors closed, wedging them shut with pieces of lumber pulled from the top of the ruined wooden parapet. Then they prepared to break in through the remaining entrance.

      
Placing themselves one on each side of the third trapdoor, the burly patrolmen hefted their axes and waited for a signal.

      
Presently it came, in the form of raucous voices raised from street level, loudly demanding to be allowed entrance.

      
The axes poised over the rooftop fell together. Almost simultaneously there sounded from several directions, near and far, a crashing and splintering of wood, a rending of thin metal. The other entrances to the building were being attacked on schedule.

      
Kasimir saw now that the onslaught against the roof entrance was being directed not against the trapdoor itself, which was reinforced with metal bars and perhaps with magic as well. Instead the axes fell in a rapid rhythm upon the roof just at one side of the designed entrance. Under their repeated blows a hole had already appeared and was growing rapidly. Doubtless the basic construction of this building had not been particularly sturdy to begin with, and decay had weakened some of the structural members.

      
While the choppers plied their tools Kasimir, holding one lighted torch, was busy lighting others from it, and handing them out to the members of the attacking party who stood by in readiness.

      
The roof was quickly pierced, and in a few more moments the hole had been enlarged to the size of a man’s head. The sergeant barked an order, and when the axmen paused he went down on his belly beside the hole. Sliding an arm through it, he was able to release the bar that held the trapdoor closed. It fell inside the room below, with the crashing of some homemade alarm system to add to the noise. Only the one fastening had secured the trapdoor, and now it swung up easily.

      
There were no stairs or ladder inside, but Wen Chang was ready. While others held torches for him, he dropped lithely through. A moment later he called for the others to follow, and the Watch poured in after him, one man at a time. Kasimir, as he had reluctantly agreed, was last. Left alone for a moment on the roof, he sat on the edge of the opening, hung for an instant by one hand from the edge, then let go and dropped.

      
Landing easily on the bare floor, he found himself still alone. The other members of his party had already hurried ahead, leaving the small unfurnished room through its only other door. Raising his torch, Kasimir saw that this stood at the head of a narrow stairs that led down to the floors below.

      
Cries of alarm and anger, accompanied by the clash of arms, were resounding from down there now. Holding his torch aloft in his left hand, his right ready to draw a weapon, Kasimir hurried after the Watchmen and Wen Chang.

      
The stairs went down only one flight, to a flat space with unpromising darkness on every side. Nearby a hole in this floor, with the top of a ladder protruding through it, offered a way to continue the descent. As Kasimir approached the hole he could hear the voices of his comrades, along with other noises, coming from down there. It might be that only the lower levels of this building were inhabited tonight.