Empire of Avarice (77 page)

He unbuckled his sword and allowed it to drop to the floor
with a clatter. “It’s about time you and I settled things, isn’t it,
play-thing?”

Lalaas smiled and also unfastened his sword belt. It
joined Vosgaris’ on the ground. “As you insist, lap-canine.”

Both men flexed their muscles and circled each other. The
end of the corridor was twenty feet away and a cross-passageway intersected it.
A pair of doors stood at this point and one of Vosgaris’ guards stood there,
open-mouthed. The captain saw him and shook his head, indicating the man remain
at his post.

Lalaas checked, his right leg planted firmly on the
ground and punched hard for Vosgaris’ face. The young nobleman swatted it aside
as Lalaas expected it. His left came up hard under the captain’s guard and sank
into his midriff. Vosgaris grunted and stepped back three paces, slightly bent
over. Lalaas didn’t allow him any time to set himself, and followed him, hands
striking high and low. Vosgaris desperately tried to block them but a few got
through, snapping his head back. He’d never faced anyone who could strike as
hard as this before. In desperation he swung his foot and caught Lalaas on the
thigh.

The hunter hadn’t expected anything as dirty as that,
expecting a gentleman to fight accordingly. Hissing between his teeth, he
glared at Vosgaris, whose face was red and swelling. “As you wish, Captain. Don’t
expect me to fight cleanly in that case.”

“Do your worst,” Vosgaris said tightly. He was beginning
to realise he was outclassed. He needed to do something unexpected and vicious
to get the better of this man. He charged, arms out wide, hoping to grab the
man and fling him to the floor.

Lalaas saw his intention and half-turned. He’d learned
to fight in Bragal, utilising his outdoor skills and the army sparring sessions
when the soldiers were bored. A few of them had been good at wrestling, a sport
enjoyed in the past when the empire had been much bigger and regular sporting
events had taken place between the rival towns and cities. All this had stopped
a few years ago when the empire had collapsed in on itself following the
military disasters against the Tybar and the outbreak of civil war. So now when
Vosgaris lunged, Lalaas used the captain’s charge to lift him up over his hip
and send him flying with arms and legs out splayed, to land with a heavy crash
where the floor and wall met.

Lalaas slowly limped towards the grunting figure of
Vosgaris as he levered himself up from his prone position. The captain ached
but was damned if he was going to give in. He sprang up and more by luck than
judgement struck Lalaas in the chest with a roundhouse blow. Lalaas took it but
it hurt. In a reflex he brought his left hand down onto Vosgaris’ neck,
stunning him. Vosgaris sank to his knees and Lalaas struck again, sending the
captain to the ground.

The hunter stood above him, rubbing his chest. He looked
down at the groaning figure of the captain, an unreadable expression on his
face. He thought for a moment, then, with a sigh of great patience, knelt by
him. Vosgaris’ face was screwed up in pain. “Captain, I can teach you how to
fight properly, if you like. I’m willing to serve under your command, too, so
that I’m following your orders, as a mercenary guard, if you like. All I’m
asking is for you to cease this antagonism towards me. I want a friend here in
the palace, and I think you could do with one, too. I’m willing to forget this
incident. I think we could both profit from settling our differences and
helping each other. I’m out of my comfort here, and need a sponsor. I’d like
that to be you, if you would do me the honour.”

A sponsor was something used quite regularly in the
social echelons of Kastanian society, when someone of junior standing looked to
progress, using a richer or more importantly placed person to guide them along,
in return for perhaps financial reward or physical protection or something
similar. It was a symbiotic relationship.

Vosgaris looked up at Lalaas, surprise on his marked
face, then slowly he nodded. He was taken aback by the generous offer of
Lalaas, and raised a shaking right arm. Lalaas grasped it and the two men shook
arms, hands firmly grasping the other’s forearm. The captain rolled onto his
backside and sat up, tenderly massaging his head. It was marked and would be
bruised for days. “Oh I’m going to be in deep trouble for this,” he slurred,
his mouth thickening.

“We can say we had a sparring bout, practicing.”

Vosgaris tried to smile, then though better of it. “We
need to co-operate, Lalaas. Things are so delicate here, and one wrong word
could be bad. It can be very tense here at times. We don’t need extra problems.
We can help each other, as you say.”

Lalaas helped Vosgaris up. “Yes. I don’t like being put
into this position any more than you do. I’m out of my depth. I’d prefer being
with the army, scouting for them.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to bring me up to date with what’s
going on out there – I find news in here is not that honest, shall we say? Certain
things are omitted.”

Lalaas grinned. “Over a drink?”

“After the evening watch, yes. There’s a barracks here
where they serve ale. I’ll be there.”

Lalaas promised to join his new friend and left, heading
for the stables, after picking up his sword. Vosgaris gingerly did the same and
then walked up to the inscrutably straight standing guard. “Not a word to
anyone about this, Kalard, or you’ll be out of a job.”

Kalard nodded. “Sir.”

Vosgaris grunted, then went about his duties, hoping to
the gods his face wasn’t too badly marked.

When Amne arrived outside by the stables, Lalaas carried
on as if nothing had happened. Amne didn’t seem to notice that anything was
amiss, and apart from a few moves he gingerly made when mounting up, the hunter
appeared as if nothing had indeed happened.

They rode towards the twin gates in the chill winter air
and they were opened by the sentries on duty, and then were out in the streets
of Kastan. Amne led, being familiar with the city, and Lalaas followed, both in
order to watch her back and because he had no idea where they were going. The
wide streets of the Palace Quarter showed the rich and privileged lived here,
and they continued, attracting interest from a few passers-by, recognising the
princess despite the fact she was wearing a fur hat and a scarlet cloak of
wool. Her face was easily recognisable, as was her fair hair and the emblem on
the equine’s saddle blanket, showing the avian of the Koros family and the twin
circles and single bar of Kastania.

She acknowledged the bows and curtseys and Lalaas rode
on stoically, noting all the time the attitude of the citizens. They did appear
to be happy to see her, but this was probably due to them being in a rich
quarter. Further along towards the Turslenka Gate the street narrowed slightly
and shops took the place of houses and mansions. All the main streets in the
capital had shops running along them near the gates. A few narrow side streets
ran off with the upper storeys leaning out towards each other, and it was down
here that the unwary could be taken advantage of.

They stopped close to the gate and Amne looked at both
sides of the street. “My quarter is here,” she said, a slight uncertain tone to
her voice. “But I don’t recognise the street names.”

“Shall we ride along that side street there, ma’am?”
Lalaas nodded towards a fairly well used street. There was little refuse strewn
about which indicated it was used on a regular basis. She nodded and led him
into the narrow passageway. The wood and stone houses rose up straight from the
narrow pavements and the upper storeys, almost entirely made of wide wooden
beams, leaned out haphazardly. Small windows could be seen high up, and the
roofs were steeply pitched so as to allow any snowfall to slide off and not
gather dangerously which could add too much weight to the roof, or later on
when thawing, inundate it with melt water.

The street, cobbled, was wide enough to admit one equine
at a time, so Lalaas rode behind the princess, looking up at the buildings with
a slight degree of apprehension. This wasn’t his environment; he was at home
out in the countryside. They came to another street, a wide one, running
left-right, and emerged from the narrow passageway. Amne exclaimed in relief. “Ah,
the Street of Tanners, I know this place. Or, I know of it.”

Lalaas came alongside and saw a number of faces turned
towards them in curiosity. A few nudged each other in surprise and whispered to
one another. It seemed royalty did not often visit such places. Amne nudged her
mount forward and came closer to the citizens. “Good day,” she said, “I am
Princess Amne Koros. I am here to see how conditions are in this quarter. I
have been receiving letters from some of you concerning the vermin and poor
upkeep of the buildings.”

The citizens bowed or curtseyed. Lalaas looked round
carefully. No sign of anyone skulking in shadows, no expressions of hostility. So
far so good. He looked up at the buildings. A few showed signs of neglect. Water
damage was unmistakable.

One of the citizens, urged on by the others, came
forward, taking off his fur cap and crushing it nervously in between his hands.
“Your highness,” he said, his voice clearly trembling, “it is an honour you
come to this place. If we had known, we would have made efforts to tidy it up.”

Amne smiled. “Then I would not have known the true
conditions here, would I not? Please, show me what troubles you have with the vermin
and buildings.”

She dismounted and Lalaas followed suit, taking both
reins and tying them to a handy post that held up the front of a butcher’s
shop. He stepped closer to Amne who was being led by the nervous spokesman to a
large building with a multitude of small windows. The paintwork was peeling
badly and the wooden beams clearly had crumbling faces where water had got at
them, and then dried out. Amne tutted. “There are no repairs carried out on
this building?”

“No, ma’am; it is owned by the Helndis family and they
have not responded to our pleas to repair the building. So we wrote to the
palace. I trust we did the right thing?”

Amne nodded. “I need to know the truth here; funds are
limited but I need to see for myself what needs the most urgent work on it. I
know everything is urgent,” she added, seeing the spokesman was about to speak,
“but some work is clearly more urgent than others. What of the roof?”

And so they continued, with more people arriving all the
time, drawn to the spectacle of having one of their ruling family actually
being there. Some people brought out sweet cakes and freshly baked bread, and
to their delight Amne sampled some, complimenting them on their cooking. Another
complaint was the smell from the tanneries at the back of the buildings, but
since there was little that could be done about that, Amne merely sympathised.

 She did, however, promise to get hold of the landlords
and also to arrange a repair gang to put right some of the worst of the
neglect.

As they returned to the main street and its well-tended
facades, Lalaas couldn’t help think that the empire was very much like Kastan
City; outwardly everything was being repaired and well cared for, but dig a
little deeper behind the front and the rotting interior was very much there. It
worried him.

Another worried man was Evas Extonos in Niake. The
depredations of Lombert Soul were getting worse and travellers were coming into
the city complaining of bands of armed robbers roaming the countryside preying
on merchants, pilgrims or just the ordinary traveller. Something would have to
be done and fast. Complaints were mounting, piling up on Evas’ desk from
merchants, clerics, nobles, guild members and farmers.

Evas fussed over whether to forward them to Kastan City
or not. He had been assured that Prince Jorqel would take care of the matter
but so far, apart from increasing the patrols in Lodria to the north, had done
nothing in Bathenia where Lombert Soul’s main camp was obviously located.

As usual, when he was in a quandary, he sent for his two
bête noires, High Priest Burnas and the merchant Demtro Kalfas. The High Priest
was sitting solemnly in his high-backed chair, wearing a new long one-piece
black cassock that reached his ankles, buttoned all the way down to the knees,
the lowest part parted at the front. It was edged with purple to show his lofty
position in the temple.

Demtro had a brand new colourful jacket of yellow, light
blue and brown, and a fur-lined hat. The latter was his latest winter fashion,
so he averred. His hose were tight fitting dull tan but over this he had a long
coat of brown edged with white fur. The most expensive imported fur from
Risania, he boasted. Burnas pointedly ignored him.

“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” Evas said, his
fingers locked together with tension. “You may have heard of the latest
developments in the countryside. Nobody seems safe anymore, and this Lombert
Soul character appears to be holding Niake under virtual siege. Prince Jorqel
doesn’t seem to be able to assist me in these times of trouble, so I wanted to
hear your thoughts as to what should be done to make the region safer.”

Demtro smiled behind his relaxed pose, one hand resting
against his cheek. He looked at the High Priest and bowed once, indicating the
cleric should speak first. Burnas cleared his throat. “Hmph! Well, it is clear,
as governor, you should take a more active role in ensuring the roads and
countryside is clear of brigands,” he said, fixing Evas with a piercing glare. “Worshippers
coming to see the new temple in Niake ought to be able to do so without
molestation. You should take full responsibility!”

“But my resources are stretched thinly enough as it is,”
Evas said helplessly. “The road to Aconia is taking most of my spare manpower
and we have just enough to make sure Niake is policed safely. Where are the
extra men going to come from, and who will pay them?”

“Don’t look at me, Governor,” Demtro said hastily,
seeing Evas’ head turn in his direction. “The traders are looking to you to solve
what they see as a problem under your jurisdiction. Simple solution really,
isn’t it? Find Lombert’s lair and destroy it, along with him.”

“That requires a spy,” Evas said, pointedly.

“Ohhh,” Demtro leaned back. “You’re not asking that I
send her out to do your job?”

Burnas frowned. “You did not hesitate to get her to do
other jobs for you, Merchant. I believe she is – adept – at gaining sensitive
information.”

“Such as that new monk of yours, what’s his name? Taken
on someone who’s hardly pure in spirit, there, High Priest.”

“How dare you!” Burnas thundered angrily. “What are you
inferring? And how did you find out I had a monk?”

“He told Clora the other day.”

“Clora? What was he doing speaking to her?”

Demtro grinned wickedly. “I think you’ll have to ask him
that; suffice to say I can say without doubt he’s not pure in the slightest. He
does pay well though, so I’m told.”

Burnas spluttered with outrage. Evas sighed and tapped
his desk. “Gentlemen, enough of this; what about sending Clora into Lombert’s camp?
We need a spy to give us enough information to be able to move against this
rebel. Demtro, could you please see if you can arrange this?”

“I’ve got my hands full training a new merchant in the
wormspun business at present,” Demtro spread his hands helplessly, a smile on
his face. “The Koros are putting in lots of orders for new clothes and I’m
having difficulties in keeping up with their demands. Good money, though,” he
added with a nod.

“Your vulgar displays of wealth are not appreciated,”
the High Priest growled. “The safety of your fellow man should be, if you have
the people under you who could assist.”

Demtro shrugged his shoulders. “The loss of the Koros
contract is worth far more to me than what I’m losing to Lombert Soul and his
brigands at present. If the Koros want Lombert out of the way they should send
the prince down from Slenna to do the job, or to employ a spy directly
themselves. They do have one, so I’m told, but he’s working for the prince in
Slenna at present. No, Governor, this is your problem and you’re going to have
to find the funds to finance this yourself. Don’t ask for charity, I’m not
inclined to give and the good High Priest here is a charity himself.”

Burnas snorted in displeasure. Evas sighed. “How much
are you asking for?”

Demtro chuckled. “Ah, at last, the right language. I
understand that after generously providing the High Priest here with the funds
for the new temple, you’re shortly to build a new town hall on the ruins of
some houses that are due to be knocked down in the spring?”

Evas glowered. “How did you find that out? That is
confidential!”

Demtro looked smug. Burnas waved an irritated hand. “Governor,
this man has ears and eyes everywhere – except, it seems, where they’re
supposed to be. He enjoys the favour of the Koros, too, so I wouldn’t be
surprised if he learned this from them first-hand.”

Evas grunted. “So, Merchant, what is it you want?”

“An office in the new building.”

“What in Kastan for?”

“Oh, you know, a spot close to the heartbeat of Niake. The
town authorities will want their taxes collected, their tariffs paid and rents
extorted on time. If I have an office there – rent free, of course – I can pay
immediately. And Governor,” he pointed a long finger at Evas who was going to
say something, “may I remind you that my taxes are amongst the highest in
Niake?”

“Because you earn more than most in the city,” Burnas
muttered darkly. “I would look favourably upon you if you donated some of your
vast wealth to the temple.”

“Oh, High Priest, how could you stoop to blackmailing a
good friend? My Clora has already performed a service to your monk; do you
insist on trying to morally shame me into giving more to you for nothing?”

“Stop referring to that – disgraceful act!” Burnas said
irritably. “It was not an official function of the temple, and I distance
myself from it utterly! The gods are watching, Merchant, and they will judge
you, not me!”

“Yes, yes,” Demtro waved a lazy hand. “I’m sure they
will. Well, Governor, do I have my room or not?”

“Oh, very well!” Evas threw his arms up into the air. “Now,
do I have your services in this matter?”

“I’ll get Clora working on it right away. High Priest,
you’ll have to explain to the monk that Clora is no longer on his menu.”

“Shut up!” Burnas shrieked. “You go too far, sometimes!”

“That’s probably what the monk said,” Demtro said,
pulling a face.

Burnas had to restrain himself from striking out at the
merchant. “I trust this new merchant is not like you,” he said instead. “To
have two like you would be unbearable.”

“Oh, you mean Thedran Blazikus? He’s a mercantile
genius. He’ll probably be the one setting up his office in the town hall. He’s
a bit dull.”

“Which means he’s more human,” Burnas said pointedly.

“Ohh, High Priest, how droll,” Demtro replied, grinning.
He stood up. “Very well, Governor, I’ll keep you appraised of the situation. Clora
may need a bit of support in this venture; it seems to me to be a particularly
dangerous assignment. I doubt we’ll see any progress for a little while, but
with a little luck we’ll discover this rodent’s nest before long.”

“Please keep me informed,” Evas said. “Niake depends on
being delivered from this beast.”

Demtro nodded and left. Burnas sighed deeply. “That man
will be the death of me,” he said.

“You and I both, High Priest. If he weren’t good at his
job I’d arrest him for some offence.”

“I shall pray to the gods for success in his endeavour –
and also perhaps to ask them to bring him off his perch. He needs a little
humility to wipe that smug look from his face.”

Evas smiled tiredly and nodded. “Please do.”

High Priest Burnas gave the governor the benefit of his
severest stare, one he reserved usually for his sermons, when he thundered his
denouncements forth against the sins of the listeners in the temple. “You
tolerate that man far too much, Governor. He mocks your position, as well as
mine! I am High Priest and demand the respect due to my position.”

“I’m well aware of his faults and vices, High Priest,”
Evas said with patience. “But we both need him. He knows many things and has the
ear of the empress. Someone like that is not one to ignore or pick fault with,
and is a dangerous enemy.”

“But it does not justify him taking advantage of every
situation, Governor! I resent him poking his business into my affairs; one day
his long nose will poke into one business too much and it’ll be cut off.”

“High Priest, he knows many things as I said, and
perhaps you should censure your monk, or whatever he is, for indulging in the
vices of the flesh.”

Burnas spluttered again. “There is no proof! If he is
guilty of these things, then the gods will punish him.”

“All the same, it may be best to put this monk onto
matters of a more – spiritual nature, shall we say? That way there would be no
opportunity of Demtro getting mixed up in your affairs.”

Burnas snorted, then lapsed into a glowering silence.

Demtro returned home. Clora was arranging some winter
creeper greenery in a vase. Now it was winter no flowers were available for
picking, but she liked to have some greenery to decorate the house. She smiled
at Demtro’s return and kissed him on the lips. Demtro grinned and sat at the
dining room table. Clora joined him shortly and sat on his lap, as Demtro
preferred. He felt her figure slowly.

“Clora, I have a big and difficult task for you.”

The woman sat quietly and waited for Demtro to speak,
her arms around his neck. She said nothing. She was content that her life was
better than she could have ever dreamed of, even working as a prostitute for
this man. He gave her clothes, jewellery, food, attention and a safe, warm
home, and allowed her to go where she pleased. She regretted leaving him after
the death of Fulmas, and had admitted to herself that her emotions had clouded
her better judgement. The contrast between the safer more comfortable world of
Demtro and that what she’d known at The Black Rodent could not be greater.

“Do you know of a man called Lombert Soul?”

“Yes!” she said in surprise, “isn’t that the horrible
man robbing and killing people on the roads outside Niake?”

“That’s the one,” Demtro nodded. “Well, it seems he has
a secret hideout somewhere in the hills not too far from here, and we need to
know where it is. We also need to know how many people are with him, and what
his plans are. You’re going to find that place for me, and also find out the
other things.”

“But isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it may well be; but Clora, I’ll tell
you this. Lombert Soul was the man who ordered Fulmar’s death.”

“Oh!” Clora put her hand to her mouth. “It was him?”

“Indeed. Now we need to put an end to his terrible ways,
and I’m putting my hopes on you, my lovely little thing.”

Clora sat still for a moment, then looked serious. “If
it means making the roads of Niake safer, and getting the man who killed
Fulmar, then yes, I will be glad to.”

Demtro beamed and hugged Clora. “Ah, you’re a treasure,
you know? So, I need to work out how to get you to Lombert Soul, and then to
arrange how to have you pass information onto me. Hmmm… I need to see somebody.
What we need to do is to fool them into thinking you dislike the Koros. That
way they’ll be happy to have you amongst them. I’m going out for a bit, Clora,”
Demtro said, gently pushing the girl off his lap, “cook up a nice winter stew. I’ll
be about the length of the afternoon watch, so I should be back by dusk.”

He went to his room and quickly changed; winter was not
a time to move about the house without sufficient clothing. One of his
wardrobes was full of working clothes rather than social attire, and he stepped
into the cavernous interior. He selected a shabby looking coat and worn high
leather boots, items he would never usually wear, but he was going to a place
that a rich man would never be seen in. He glanced back at the shut door of his
room. Clora was downstairs, so Demtro reached to the back of his wardrobe and
located a catch and pulled it. The back slid open and beyond was revealed a
dark and cold corridor.

Shutting the wardrobe door, Demtro pushed into the
corridor and slid the back door shut. A man such as he had uses for a secret
way out of his home, and the recently installed escape route was a safety
measure he may have use of one day. Not even Clora was aware of it. Best nobody
else knew of it, and those who had built it were now working on the port
improvements in Aconia, nowhere near Niake.