The Office of Shadow (31 page)

Tye led them to the tiny bedroom, where a sunken mattress sat on the
floor and a wooden box served as a bedside table. There was an antique
wardrobe pushed up against one wall. A nail had been hammered into its
crest and a clothesline strung from it to the wall. Tye nodded at the wardrobe;
then his face fell.

"Stupid! Stupid! Now you're going to take them, aren't you? I never
should have said anything!"

"Don't worry," said Ironfoot, the Leadership resonating in his voice. "We
aren't going to take anything."

That seemed to satisfy Tye. He sat down heavily on the bed and watched
as Silverdun opened the wardrobe.

It was stuffed with books. Silverdun picked one up and read from the
spine. Inquiry into Matters Philosophical and Theological. Prae Benesile's own
Thaunaatical History of the Chthonic Religion. Another was in High Court Fae,
and Silverdun struggled to translate its title. Something like A School of
Thought Regarding the Gods of the Earth, Bound, and Their Origins. The next
books he examined were in languages he couldn't read. One appeared to be
from the Nymaen world, a human tongue. Another was in Thule Fae, like the
inscriptions on the Tuminee burial mounds north of the river in Oarsbridge,
where Silverdun had been raised. Ironfoot, scholar that he was, seemed to be
having an easier time with the translation, but still looked confused.

"I don't supposed you're versed in Thule?" Silverdun asked Ironfoot.

Ironfoot looked up from the book he'd been flipping through. "I am," he
said. "But I can't imagine what a Black Artist would have wanted with
someone who studied all this stuff."

Silverdun scanned a few lines of verse from Prinzha-Las Days and Works.
A story about one of the daughters of the god Senek, who fell in love with a
mortal Fae. Senek turned him into a ram. You always had to be careful
messing around with a powerful man's daughter. Some things never changed.

"I suppose," said Tye from the bed, "if you wanted to purchase a few of
them I'd be willing to let them go for a reasonable price. You gentlemen
being representatives of the government." What had happened to the angry
man who'd greeted them at the door? Had Ironfoot's Leadership changed all
of his spleen to ardor with a single glance?

"That won't be necessary," said Silverdun. He fished in his pocket for a
few coins and slapped them into Tye's hand. "For your trouble."

Tye looked to Ironfoot to make sure the transaction was acceptable. It
was.

"I don't think we're going to learn anything else of value," Ironfoot whispered. Silverdun nodded.

They thanked Tye for his time, and the man bowed to Ironfoot a bit more
deeply than was required by custom. Now it was just getting annoying.

"If there's anything I can do for you, sir, day or night, I'm your man," he
said, his voice slightly wheedling. "Just call on me."

Ironfoot looked a bit puzzled, but thanked the man.

Outside in the stairwell, Silverdun said, "That's quite a Gift you've got
there. With that much Leadership in you, I'm surprised you weren't commanding a battalion back in your army days."

Ironfoot stopped on the landing and faced him. He looked troubled. "I've
always had it," he said. "A bit, anyway. But on my best day, I could possibly
convince a good friend to go along with a suggestion he was already inclined
to favor, if I pushed with all my might. I've never done anything like that
before."

"Why do you suppose that is?" said Silverdun.

"Whitemount," said Ironfoot. "Don't you feel it?"

"Every day," Silverdun said. "I haven't slept much. I've felt strange. A bit
unbalanced sometimes."

"So have I," said Ironfoot. "I just assumed it was the stress of the new job,
you know? All of Jedron's tricks, then straight into Paet's service."

"You think it's more than that?"

"I don't know. When we were in Tye Benesile's apartment just now, I was
getting nervous. I was worried we were about to fail our first assignment. It
kept growing inside me like a panic. Did you notice it?"

"No."

"I did my best to hide it," said Ironfoot. And then something ... happened in my head. It was as though I had far more capacity for re than I've
ever had before, and it all just surged into me. But when it happened I
pushed with the Leadership, and it was like a dam had burst. I think Tye
Benesile practically worships me now."

"He's in love with you, if you ask me."

Silverdun wanted to ask Ironfoot about that night at Whitemount. The
fire, the pit, the blackness. But something inside him wouldn't allow it. He
decided to force the issue.

"Ironfoot," he began.

There was a crash below, and the sound of boots on the stairs.

"Tye's wife," said Silverdun, scowling. "She must have given us up."

"We can go down or up," said Ironfoot. "Any preference?"

Silverdun listened. There were at least four sets of boots. "We're to avoid
notice at all costs," he said. "We go up."

They hurried up the stairs as quickly as possible, past Tye Benesile's floor
and higher. The stairs continued above the fourth floor, but instead of terminating on the roof, they opened onto a low, narrow attic that stretched the
entire length of the building. It was hot and close, smelling of dust and
mouse droppings, and was cluttered with odd bits of lumber, broken furniture, and the like.

There were voices down below, but Silverdun couldn't make them out.
Assuming that the men were after them, they'd be at Tye Benesile's door by
now. Tye would do his best to protect Ironfoot, but he was drunk and not particularly bright. It wouldn't take long for them to realize where Silverdun
and Ironfoot had gone.

"Now what?" said Ironfoot. It was one thing to have the Gift of Leadership, Silverdun noted, but quite a different thing to lead. Not that Silverdun
was much of a leader on his best day. Why had they been picked for this
assignment, exactly?

"We want to get out of this building without being seen," said Silverdun, quietly shutting the door to the attic behind him.

There was a small window at the far end of the attic. Weak light dribbled through it and pooled on the floor. "Let's have a look."

Downstairs there was a crash and another shout, this time of someone in
pain. Tye Benesile?

Silverdun and Ironfoot moved carefully, picking their way through the
tiny attic. Batlike creatures slept in the exposed rafters. They wriggled when
Silverdun brushed up against them. The going was painfully slow as they
wove their way through the narrow space, trying to be as silent as possible.

Now there was more noise on the stairs, and pounding from beneath
them. The men were knocking on doors. Silverdun and Ironfoot were nearly
to the window now.

The door to the attic crashed open. A pair of Annwni guardsmen peered
into the attic. They were armed with short swords, and wore dark blue uniforms with black leather helmets and boots. Silverdun and Ironfoot crouched
down, but there was nowhere to hide.

"There!" shouted one. He ran toward them, shoving a broken chair aside.

Silverdun ran toward the window and tried it. It was locked, but the lock
gave with a hard shove. He opened the window and looked out. It opened
directly onto the cul-de-sac below, a forty-foot drop with nothing to break
the fall. On the street, five more guardsmen stood at the entrance to the
building.

"I think doing this silently is going to be quite a lot more difficult now,"
he said, turning back around.

Ironfoot already had a knife out. He hurled it at the guardsman in front,
and the point found its mark in the Annwni's throat. The man dropped
without taking another step. Silverdun bent, took a knife from his boot, and
heaved it at the remaining guard. The man raised his hand reflexively, and
the knife lodged in his palm. He screamed, but it was more a scream of rage
than pain, and he kept coming.

Ironfoot was already moving, running toward the guardsman. He
reached the other one first, the one he'd killed with his thrown knife. Rather
than jump over the man, however, he bent down and removed his knife from the guard's neck with a fluid motion, then raised it just as the second
watchman leapt at him, Silverdun's knife still lodged in his palm. Ironfoot
made a brutal upward jerking motion and the second watchman went over
his shoulder and crashed into the wall.

All of this happened in the moment it took Silverdun to catch up to him.
By the time he reached Ironfoot, both watchmen were dead. Ironfoot wiped
his knife on the leg of one of the dead men and handed Silverdun's back to
him, still slick with blood.

"I imagine someone heard that," said Silverdun. He looked down at the
fallen watchmen. "To hell with Jedron and his advice on swords," he said,
taking the closest one's blade. It was light and unbalanced, but it was sharp.
That was fine; there wasn't going to be a lot of finesse required in the next
few minutes.

"Suit yourself," said Ironfoot. He held onto his knife.

Now there was more noise on the stairs. Silverdun led the way out of the
attic, his heart thudding in his chest. It had been a long time since he'd last
killed anyone. The Battle of Sylvan, in fact. Over a year ago. His heart was
pounding and his palms were beginning to sweat, but it was also familiar
and, frankly, a bit of a relief to be in action.

There were four men on the landing, and they ran straight at Silverdun and
Ironfoot without preamble. As soon as Silverdun engaged the first of them, he
realized his mistake. It was difficult to swing a sword in such a narrow space,
and he was forced to resort to jabbing with it like a tiny spear. His opponent
had the same problem, of course, but his opponent also had three friends.

Ironfoot, however, did not have this problem. He flitted past Silverdun
and took the second man on the stairs, dodging his blade. Once Ironfoot was
inside the man's guard, he was able to use his knife freely. His opponent was
down in an instant, and Ironfoot shoved him roughly backward, tripping up
the man behind him.

Meanwhile Silverdun managed to take out his own opponent with a
lucky thrust. He pushed his man aside and followed Ironfoot. Against the
two of them, the last of the guardsmen didn't last long.

The noise of the fight, however, had drawn the attention of others, and
now three more appeared below.

"Why so many?" asked Silverdun. "Two upstairs, the four we just did,
five on the street, and now these fellows?"

"Worry about it later!" called Ironfoot. He lunged at the man closest to
him, who appeared to be in charge. But this one had apparently earned his
promotion, because he sidestepped Ironfoot's lunge and smashed him hard on
the back of the neck with the hilt of his sword as he went past. The men
behind him grabbed Ironfoot but didn't kill him. Interesting.

Silverdun turned to run back upstairs, but there was a man above him as
well. Well, one was better than three, even if fighting from below. He
jumped up and immediately tripped on one of the men he'd just killed. As
he fell forward, his opponent chopped down, flailing.

And lopped Silverdun's sword hand off at the wrist.

Silverdun watched it happen, trying to reel backward, moving as if
through water. There was no pain at first, just shock. Blood, deep deep red,
flowed thickly from his wrist. Silverdun couldn't remember ever having seen
blood so thick.

Without thinking, Silverdun reached with his left hand and lashed out
with witchfire, the simplest bit of Elements he could muster. He hoped, at
best, to blind his attacker momentarily with a flash of flame.

Instead, the narrow stairwell exploded with heat and light. The man in
front of him was incinerated. He fell, twisting and smoking, in front of
Silverdun.

Silverdun turned and looked down. The watchmen's leader hesitated on
the landing below him, his sword at the ready. Silverdun let the re well up in
him again, but there was none. He'd used it all in that one burst. Impossible.
Using every bit of essence in his body in an instant ought to have killed him.

The pain from his wrist finally figured out how to reach his mind and he
gasped in agony. He stumbled, fell, tried to stand. A fist connected with his
skull and he dropped, unable to move. He was still awake, but his arms and
legs wouldn't respond. There was quite a lot of swearing; Annwni had interesting swears, thought Silverdun.