Synaptic Manhunt (28 page)

‘It is, but I cannot understand the silence.’

Jeb Stuart Ho drew his sword.

‘You wait here. I’ll go in and investigate.’

‘You do not want me to come with you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho shook his head.

‘There may be fighting. You must wait here. I’ll need you to guide me back to the ziggurat.’

The priest sank down on to the damp grass, and Jeb Stuart

Ho moved cautiously forward. With his sword gripped tightly in his hand, he approached the first hut. There was still no sound or movement. He located the door. It was made of solid wood, and closed. He pressed his ear to it. Nothing. He took a step back. At least, in this place he didn’t have to worry about lasers or projectile weapons. He launched himself at the door. It burst open. He dropped into a crouch as he hit the middle of the hut, and turned on the balls of his feet, his sword stuck straight out in front of him.

There was nobody in the hut. It contained two narrow beds, a chest, a couple of crude wall hangings, but no people. He moved on to the next one, and found that that too was deserted. He broke into hut after hut, but they were all empty. In a larger building that dominated the village he discovered the last, faintly warm embers of a log fire. This finally convinced him. The inhabitants of the village had all, for some reason, left. If A.A. Catto was still alive she had apparently been taken with them. Jeb Stuart Ho hurried back to where the priest was waiting for him.

‘They have all gone.’

The priest nodded.

‘I discovered the same fact.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him in surprise.

‘You did?’

‘I scouted a little, while you were in the village. I found the fresh tracks of many horses, leading away from here.’

The priest led Jeb Stuart Ho to the line of tracks. They could hardly be missed. The ground was soft and muddy, and had been churned up by dozens of sets of hooves. They formed an unmistakable trail down the mountainside. Jeb Stuart Ho and the priest walked beside it in silence for a long time. The priest seemed more and more thoughtful. Finally Jeb Stuart Ho pressed him as to what was wrong.

‘Is something troubling you?’

‘I am puzzled.’

‘By what?’

‘I could be mistaken, but they appear to be leading in the direction of the ziggurat.’

‘Why should the whole village come down from the mountain?’

The priest looked troubled.

‘That is the mystery. It has never happened before.’

‘You believe something is wrong?’

‘I don’t know. The horsemen are wild and violent. They would not be happy in the valley. However, we will soon be out of the fog and we will be able to see more clearly.’

As the priest predicted they very soon emerged from the oppressive fog and out on to the clear lower slopes. The sky was reddening into a perfectly programmed sunset. The ziggurat cast a long shadow across the valley. It was a scene of peace and tranquillity. The priest stopped for a moment, and stared carefully at his home. Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him questioningly.

‘Is all well?’

The priest continued to stare at the ziggurat.

‘I think so, although there is a certain lack of movement.’

‘Maybe they have all gone inside. Could it be that the horsemen have requested some kind of meeting?’

The priest frowned.

‘I cannot tell. It is beyond my knowledge. They have never before left the mountain.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the ground in front of them.

‘Their tracks certainly lead to the ziggurat.’

The priest nodded.

‘That is what makes it so strange.’

‘All we can do is go there and find out. The man who learns is the man who seeks knowledge. The successful hunter is not the one who waits for his quarry to pay him a visit.’

The priest looked at him in confusion.

‘I’m sorry, I do not understand.’

‘It is merely a saying.’

They started to walk down the slope. They had not gone very far when a group of mounted figures detached themselves from the shadow of the building and began coming up the slope towards them. Jeb Stuart Ho stopped. As the horsemen drew nearer, he saw that they wore rudimentary armour and carried long lances. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword. The priest, however, didn’t share his caution. He smiled at Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘Now maybe we will find out what has come to pass.’

Before Ho could stop him, the young man was hurrying down the mountainside to meet the group of riders. He ran towards them waving his arms. For a moment Jeb Stuart Ho thought that his suspicions had been unfounded. He was about to follow the priest when the leading rider lowered his spear and neatly skewered the unfortunate priest. As his dying scream faded away, Jeb Stuart Ho whipped out his sword and fell into a defensive crouch.

The horsemen made high-pitched eerie cries and came at him. There were seven of them in all. He knew that despite his almost certainly superior fighting skills he would be hard pressed to overcome seven mounted warriors. One was some way ahead of the others. He came straight at Ho, crouched over his lance. Ho saw an advantage in that the rider apparently expected no resistance. Ho dropped his sword and stood very still. The tip of the lance, with the full weight of man and beast behind it, came straight at his chest. At the last minute, he turned from the hips. The lance missed him by a hand’s breadth. He grasped the weapon with both hands and jerked with all his strength. The rider tumbled from his saddle. Before he could get to his feet Jeb Stuart Ho kicked him hard between the eyes, driving the bridge of his nose up into his skull. The man died without a sound, and Ho turned to face the next of his attackers.

Two of them came at him side by side, with a third slightly behind. Ho dropped to the ground so the lances went over his head, then he snapped back up again as the horses thundered past on either side of him. He grasped each man’s nearest foot and pushed upwards, effectively unseating them. The third one was almost on him. Jeb Stuart Ho launched himself into space. His outstretched foot caught the man under the armpit, and they hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Ho was the first on his feet, and he quickly dispatched the man by stamping down hard on his throat.

The two he had unseated were now dancing towards him with drawn knives. The three more who were still on their horses had overshot, and were wheeling round for another attack. Jeb Stuart Ho was some distance from where his sword lay, and he began edging towards it. One of the men he’d thrown to the ground sprung at him in a balletic leap, swinging his long knife in a wide arc. Ho twisted sideways and the knife missed his face by the merest fraction. He caught the horseman off balance and jerked his wrist downwards, at the same time bringing up his knee under the man’s arm. There was a sharp crack as the arm broke. The horseman screamed and staggered away.

One of the mounted warriors swung a set of weighted thongs at Ho. Ho caught one of the weights with his left hand, and hurled them at the nearest attacker on foot. The thongs wrapped themselves around his chest, pinning his knife arm to his side. Jeb Stuart Ho seized his own sword and slashed at the pinnioned horseman’s neck.

That left three still coming at him, and they were all mounted. They thundered down on him in a tight group. Three lances were directed at him. Jeb Stuart Ho dropped into a crouch, and jumped. His feet struck the middle rider in the chest, and as he hit the ground Ho stabbed the point of his sword up under the man’s chin. That left two.

They swung round, jumped from their horses and hit the ground running. Their knives were in their hands. Jeb Stuart Ho shook one of his own knives free from the sheath on his arm, and threw it underarm at one of the horsemen. It struck him just below the right eye. The handle stuck out through the eye hole of his helmet.

It was just one on one. The last horseman slashed at Jeb Stuart Ho with his heavy leaf-bladed knife. Ho parried and backed off a step. The horseman pressed home his attack. Ho continued to duck and parry. He thrust at the horseman but his blow was turned to the side. The horseman was good, but he had little chance against the long, two-handed sword. Ho made the point dance in a lightning triple manoeuvre, and the knife flew from the horseman’s hand. The rider stood still and resigned as Jeb Stuart Ho ran his sword into his chest.

Ho put his foot on the horseman’s body and wrenched out the sword. He looked round for the surviving attacker whose arm he had broken. It was rapidly getting dark. The man was some distance away, limping quickly towards the ziggurat. Jeb Stuart Ho wiped his sword and carefully put it away. He let his arms fall limply at his side and squatted down on his haunches. He allowed the tension of the fight to drain out of him. If nothing else, it had demonstrated where he would find A.A. Catto, even if it had cost six lives to do it. Ho sat and stared at the huge black building and pondered his next move.

‘Seven of you? He defeated seven of you? Single-handed?’

A.A. Catto looked as though she was going to burst. The single horseman who had escaped from the fight with Jeb Stuart Ho stood rigidly in front of what had once been the blessed Joachim’s throne. A.A. Catto now sat bolt upright amid the white cushions. The carpet at her feet was stained with blood. The horseman’s broken arm dangled useless at his side. His face was impassive.

‘You realize that this means the assassin is still loose. It means that I’m still in danger. This is intolerable.’

Nancy moved to A.A. Catto’s side.

‘He won’t be able to get at you here, surrounded by your own army.’

A.A. Catto’s jaw muscles clenched spasmodically.

‘He took out seven of them, didn’t he? And anyway, while he’s alive how can I relax? How can I find any sort of peace while he’s running around looking for ways to kill me?’

‘You could send out more men to get him.’

A.A. Catto shook her head.

‘That’s not good enough. He can fight the horsemen. I’ve got to find a way so I can be sure. He’s got to be killed.’

A.A. Catto slumped back into the cushions of the throne. She lay hunched up, preoccupied and deep in thought. Nancy nervously examined her fingernails. A.A. Catto looked as though she was building up for some sort of outburst. Ever since the taking of the ziggurat her bouts of hysterical temper had been getting more and more violent. Abruptly she sat up and gestured imperiously at her escort.

‘Fetch Billy Oblivion and his so-called friends.’

Nancy looked at her in surprise.

‘What do you want them for?’

‘They claimed they could help me when they were begging me to let them live. Now’s the time for them to prove it. If they can come up with a way to get the assassin they can live. If they can’t then I’ll have them killed.’

Three of the escort marched smartly out of the throne room. The survivor of the fight still stood stiffly in front of the throne. He had turned very pale, and was swaying slightly. Nancy touched A.A. Catto gently on the arm. She pointed to the injured man.

‘What are we going to do about him?’

‘What do you mean, do about him?’

‘Shouldn’t he have treatment or something?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘But he’s obviously in pain.’

A.A. Catto looked at Nancy in surprise.

‘He’s no more use to me.’

She waved to the escort again.

‘Take him out and kill him.’

Nancy didn’t say anything as the wounded horseman walked stiffly away surrounded by three of the escort. She noted that ‘kill’ seemed to be A.A. Catto’s favourite word of the moment. Nancy didn’t want to take any chances. A.A. Catto sat tapping her fingernails until Billy, Reave, the Minstrel Boy and the Wanderer were brought in.

The Minstrel Boy looked round carefully as they were marched down the long throne room. The place was crowded with horsemen. They smelled strongly of sweat and leather. A lot of the fittings had been smashed, and most of the candles had been extinguished except for one set that threw light down on the throne. They reached the foot of the steps and halted. A.A. Catto stared at them for a long time without speaking. Billy began to think that, somehow, her eyes were becoming more and more like those of a poisonous snake. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

‘You sent for us?’

‘The assassin is still alive.’

Billy glanced round at the others. They all tried to avoid his eyes. He turned back to A.A. Catto.

‘What exactly are we supposed to do about it? He could take on all four of us with one hand.’

‘I want you to devise a foolproof method of getting rid of him. You told me how skilled and talented your little friends are. Now is the time to put it to the test.’

The Minstrel Boy moved up beside Billy.

‘What happens if we can’t come up with a scheme to kill him?’

A.A. Catto smiled sweetly at him.

‘Then you lied to me when you were pleading for your life. I shall have to have you killed, all of you.’

Billy’s jaw dropped.

‘All of us? Me and Reave as well?’

‘Of course. You vouched for these people.’

The Minstrel Boy laughed grimly.

‘Looks like we’re all in the same boat.’

‘What do we do about it?’

The Minstrel Boy shrugged.

‘Don’t ask me. Those hoods in Litz couldn’t stop him and neither could this bunch. I don’t honestly see what we can do.’

Reave scowled.

‘The only thing that could stop Ho would be a few more like him.’

The Minstrel Boy suddenly grinned. He looked as though the light had dawned.

‘That’s the answer.’

‘What is?’

‘Get some more like him, and let them take him out.’

Billy looked doubtful.

‘How the fuck do we get more like him? Send out to the brotherhood?’

The Minstrel Boy shot the Wanderer a sideways glance.

‘We could get them from Stuff Central.’

The Wanderer raised a bushy eyebrow.

‘You won’t find any brotherhood executives in the stuff catalogue. The best you can get from that would be a De Luxe All Purpose Trooper, and a squad of them would be just as useless as the horsemen.’