Chasers of the Wind (40 page)

“Well then, let’s see what the pattern will show us.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement in the gloom. Ktatak was also curious.

A lilac nail hooked the card lying next to the Key and turned it over.

“The Maid.” Ktatak laughed hollowly. “I don’t doubt that at all, partner.”

Jola chuckled knowingly and laid the new card on top of the Key.

“The Maid casts out the Fool. He’s too weak to resist her. Though now the little lady is dependent upon the Tower,” she said, and then she moved the Fool to the circle where the five facedown cards were still lying. Now there were six. “Well? Should we reveal them?”

“Don’t tease,” was the grumbled reply from the gloom.

The first of the five inverted cards was Death. The second, to my great surprise, was also Death. Ktatak cleared his throat quietly. Jola thoughtfully shook her head. The third card—Death. The fourth—Death. I had no doubt about the fifth. I knew what it would be.

“Death.”

Now the center of the spread created by the Je’arre was surrounded by five Deaths and one Fool.

“I swear by the wind! It cannot be! It. Can. Not. Be,” whispered the winged one.

“Do you really mean that?” her partner protested.

“Yes! I! You’re an idiot, you leech! In the Great Cards there are ten decks. In each deck there are a hundred cards. The spread involves no more than forty. Death is a high card. Like the Tower, it rarely comes into play. And to have two Towers and five Deaths all at once, and in the company of the Fool! Next to them he becomes very strong. Strange.”

“I guess you made a mistake,” I comforted her.

“I’m never mistaken in this, Gray!” she snapped, and then returned her gaze to the pattern. The Je’arre stretched out her thin hand and, holding her breath, turned over the last, solitary card that was lying beyond the boundaries of the spread.

“The Thief!” grunted Ktatak. He sounded shocked.

“The Dancer!” She gasped.

“Excuse me?” I asked for clarification.

None of the other cards had made such an impression on her as this one did. Jola was far too overwhelmed by what she saw, so Ktatak had to step in.

“It’s a kvomplicated kvard, my friend. One in a thousand. And if it kvomes out in the spread, it usually has no effeckvat. Actually, it never has any effeckvat. All previous times my partner kvast it aside. But apparently now the Thief is in the spread.”

“This time you’re right, leech. Death, the Fortress, three Knives, and the Tower with the Key in this position gives life to the Thief.”

“And why is it a Dancer?” I frowned.

Once again it was Ktatak who explained. “It’s the birds’ little idol. The Sons of the Skvay believe that he kvareated this world. The Thief symbolizes their kvod.”

“I see that you’ve become a true expert on the Great Cards,” I joked.

“If you’d lived side by side with her for as longkva as I have, you’d be full of it, too.”

We both thought this joke was funny enough to laugh. Jola did not join in. She was muttering under her breath, checking the position of the cards, trying to determine if some error had crept into them.

“Well, what should I expect in the near future?”

The Je’arre looked at me irritably and replied reluctantly, “I don’t know.”

“Ah! Ah!” Ktatak was simply bursting with joy. “Has Kvagun really kvandescended to hear my prayers and kvive me such a kvift in my old age? I kvan die happy now that you’ve finally kvanfessed your own inadekvacy!”

She jerked her wings in irritation, glanced at me and again, uncharacteristically, said nothing in reply.

“I was wrong. The spread can’t be true.” The Je’arre swept the cards from the table, in one motion destroying the complex pattern she’d created with such care. “Today is not the best day to learn your fate. Come back another time.”

“You know that I didn’t come here for this.”

She smiled bitterly.

“For a man you are terribly patient. I kept wondering when you were going to ask about your Maid.”

“Is she here?”

I waited for her answer with bated breath.

“Go up the stairs. The second door on the right.”

I stood and Jola roused herself.

“By the way! You owe me a hundred and fifty sorens. Since you and Weasel were so kind as to set fire to our place and put burned corpses in it, then you can pay.”

“I’m sure that as soon as Layen appeared in your doorway, you immediately gouged her for all you’re owed.”

Ktatak burst out into deafening laughter.

“I swear by Kvagun’s eyes! Today’s really not your day, partner!”

“Stop braying! You’d better go with him and make sure that he doesn’t filch anything along the way.”

“Okvay, okvay, don’t be ankvary, birdie. I’ll do it,” he replied, still laughing, and then he finally condescended to come out into the light.

Ktatak was a Blazog. He had ash-gray warty skin, fantastically long, muscular arms, and a stooped posture. On his massive, round head the first thing that caught one’s attention were his enormous hazel eyes and his wide, toadlike mouth. Blazogs weren’t the most pleasant things to look at. Especially for those who were seeing them for the first time. The inhabitants of the swamps located in the south of the Empire usually lived in isolation, in small floating villages, and very few of them ever ventured out into the wider world.

Blazogs are usually considered strange and stupid, mainly because human speech is difficult for them. And because of a few behaviors that would seem insane to the average human. However, rare was the man who would tell a swamp dweller to his face that he was stupid. Given the strength and agility of the Blazogs, for all their external absurdity, an idiotic comment like that would have dire consequences. I would never try to take on Ktatak, especially when he has two axes or swords in his grasp. I once saw Jola’s partner at work; he ripped three experienced robbers, greedy for free silk, into tiny pieces before they had time to put up any kind of resistance. Since that time, thieves have avoided this shop for three blocks.

“I’m kvalad to see you alive, Kvaray. I’ll tell you a sekvaret. We were a little upset when our shackva in the harbor was turned into a piece of kvoal. You and Weasel, even though you’re fishy kvids, you’re not so bad. Even old Jola mourned when we found your remains.”

“Don’t be a fool,” muttered the Je’arre. “I was mourning the loss of a decent house that we were stupid enough to lend to that pair.”

“I have no doubt about that,” I hastened to assure her. “You haven’t changed at all since our last meeting, Ktatak.”

“Still skvary and awful?” the Blazog said, chuckling. “It’s too soon for me to kvet old. I’m just in my seventh dekvade.”

“There you go. And still going strong. Are you still amusing yourself at the Fights?”

“Ockvasionally,” he replied humbly, and then his hazel eyes were momentarily covered by transparent lids. “Right now that business is in Jokva’s hands. I’m not too friendly with him.”

“So he’s alive and well?”

“Unfortunately for you, yes, he’s alive and well. Well enough to stand, anyway. Let’s kvo. I’ll lead you.”

He walked forward with a deliberately slow and awkward gait. The steps creaked mournfully under his weight. For a Blazog Ktatak was very sturdy. He was wider than me in the shoulders and in terms of weight I lost to him outright.

“Jola’s out of spirits today,” I said, when we were upstairs.

He chuckled, pushed open a door, and invited me in.

“She’s always out of spirits. As if you didn’t know her.”

“How is business going?”

“Kvarappy. Especially in the last two days.”

“Did something happen that I should know about?” I looked around the room.

It was large and cozy, with expensive furniture, a king-size bed, and bands of thick fabric curtaining the windows. Ktatak didn’t conceal his grin when I walked over to the window and looked out into the courtyard. What can you do? Old habits. All too often I’ve had to leave without saying good-bye.

“Possibly. Did you notice what was kvoinkva on in Birdtown?”

“The flyers didn’t seem to be seeking out fresh air.”

“Just so.” He yawned lingeringly, opening wide his enormous jaws and displaying a few yellow teeth. “The day before yesterday, we kvot the news that the Je’arre have flipped to the side of Nabator and Sdis.”

I whistled.

“They kvan’t stand it, you see, that the Empire wants to take their land from them and send them north. Jola’s kvinsmen don’t really find the prospeckvat of freezing their asses off all that tempting, and really, who kvould blame them? And what did they expeckvat would happen? That race is as fickvale as the wind that kvarries them.”

“It’d be better if it dropped them. I’m surprised the rest of the city hasn’t ripped their wings off yet.”

“It already happened. Yesterday eveninkva some avengers kvaught two of the Sons of the Skvay and kvut off their heads. They would have done even more nasty thinkvas, but the bloodthirsty kvarowd was dispersed by the Viceroy’s Kvuard. Everythinkva is quiet for now.”

“Not for long.”

“I know.” Ktatak frowned and his entire face was covered in comical folds. “Less than a weekva will pass before the Viceroy askvas all the Je’arre to leave the city. And that’s the best-kvase scenario. The worst kvase is that he’ll send them to the sckvaffold. As traitors.”

“Not even the fact that the city coffers are fattened year after year thanks to those like Jola will stop him?”

“When you’re talking about the fackvat that some birdie might open the kvates during a siege, money is forkvotten.”

“Oh really? Hightown has forgotten about money?”

“Well, let’s say so. They can akvaree to the lesser evil. If the city falls, they’ll lose all their money. And now, only a part.”

“A fairly reasonable approach, it seems to me. What about Jola?”

“Many of her relatives have already left Al’skvara. Only the most stubborn and most stupid remain. I don’t know which kvaroup to put our old lady in. She doesn’t want to leave her shop, so she’ll wait until her feathers have been pluckved.”

“I’m sure you’ll take care of her.”

Ktatak smiled. “I already am. The kvoods left today for the Kvolden Markva. I’ve hidden money away. There’s nothing to hold me here. If I kvatch a whiff of smoke, I’ll kvarab that silly chickven in my arms and we’ll sail far away to the horizon, even if she will kvaluck and resist me.”

“A ship can be found?” I seized on this immediately.

He frowned again. “For now, yes. But the prices have risen sharply. Are you planninkva a vanishinkva ackvat?”

“After a chat with Joch.”

The Blazog chuckled. “You never did kvet alonkva with him.”

“True. He’s a nuisance.”

“And Mols?”

“Mols never bothered me.”

“Unlike Jokva, he’s very kvautious and not very kvareedy. But I advise you to hurry. After seven or eight days, thinkvas are kvoinkva to tighten up around here.”

“How are you so sure?”

“First of all, when half the city sleeps it dreams of settlinkva skvores with the Je’arre. For the time beinkva the watch and the Kvuard are holdinkva them backva, but sooner or later they’ll pluckva up their nerve and riot. I don’t know if you heard or not, but Nabator is in talks with the Kvolden Markva so they’ll open the passage through the Straits to them. If the merchants kvomply, the city will be under siege from the sea and there’ll no lonkver be any way out of the Empire. Sooner or later Al’skvara will be encirkvaled.”

“Our troops are holding them back, aren’t they?”

“That’s old news,” he dismissed me. “Here’s somethinkva fresh for you. The Je’arre hit the Third Army from behind. Then it was attackved head on by a force of Nabatorian troops, nekvaromancers, and Sdisian soldiers. Not to mention the Highborn.”

“The Highborn?” I exclaimed.

“Just so. The pointy-eared elves also decided to makva use of this opportunity and pay us backva for all offenses. The Isthmuses of Lina have been takven. The remains of our troops fled to the Steps of the Hankvaman or to the west, toward Al’skvara. And at their heels…”

He didn’t finish. There was no need. Everything was clear. It would get hot here very soon.

“We fought the Highborn for three hundred years and eventually concluded that damned peace treaty! We should have finished them off right after Gem’s Arch, but instead of that we gave them a whole decade to recover. I hate that race!”

He nodded understandingly. He knew that I’d served in Sandon for a number of years. “I’m surprised you’re without your bow.”

“It was ruined,” I replied, and recalled Pork, thanks to whom my weapon was burnt.

“Buy a new one. Okvay, I’m kvoinkva downstairs or else some rioter’s kvoinkva to stumble in and butt heads with a very ankvary Jola. And another thinkva.” He stopped at the door and was no longer smiling. “You are of kvourse our friend and we have history, but it would be best for you if you didn’t stay here too lonkva. You understand.”

“I understand.” I nodded seriously. “You don’t have to worry. We won’t expose you and we’ll be out of here today.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“We’ll find one.” I avoided a direct answer.

“I’m sorry that it’s kvotten so—”

“Drop it. I’m not going to drag you in with Joch. We’ll leave. No offense taken.”

“That’s kvood, Kviiyan.” He obviously relaxed. “Rest well.”

“Can you do me one favor?”

“Anythinkva I kvan.”

“I need a bow. I’m sure you understand, it wouldn’t be the smartest thing for me to go around to the weapons shops myself.”

I couldn’t use the weapon of the Sdisian archer I’d killed in Psar’ki. It would draw the attention of people in the know. A far too remarkable bow.

Ktatak nodded and smiled.

“That’s not too diffikvult. I know your preferences. And your measurements. I know a kvood dealer. Do you have any wishes?”

“No. I have complete faith in you in this matter.”

The Blazog grinned one last time and tightly closed the door behind himself. I listened to his retreating footsteps.

By the bed stood a chair, on which I placed my throwing axe. My dagger went under the pillow. We had some time until evening. Then we should leave. Ktatak and Jola were old friends, and Layen and I had pulled them out of a sticky situation once, but it would not do to abuse their hospitality.