Sword Empire (10 page)

Jahan had confirmed that the three men who had tried to kill Raven were known assassins who could have been hired by anyone with enough coin. Normally such men would never have worn any identifying tags which could have linked them to their employer, and so the only other point on which Jahan claimed certainty was that they had not been hired by the House of Gandhar. Whoever had paid them had also paid them to wear Gandhar colours to cover his tracks.

If Jahan knew and was refusing to reveal whoever had paid the death money, then it had to be a politically delicate issue. Gujar could understand that at this time, with the urgent need for all of Karakhor to remain united against Maghalla, Jahan would not want to see a blood feud or acts of vengeance between any of the great houses. His cool mind could respect that, but his hot blood still demanded to know the truth.

So he had begun to haunt the more unsavoury taverns along the waterfront, places where his instinct told him such dark plots might be hatched and its perpetrators known. He had visited the first two places alone, and then Kasim had caught him returning from the second tavern, recognizing him despite his dark cloak as they passed in a narrow street. Gujar had needed someone with whom to share his suspicions and his thoughts and so he had confided in his friend.

The waterfront is a dangerous area to wander alone,” Kasim had told him firmly. “In the future you must let me come with you.”

“It is my business,” Gujar objected. “There is no need.”

“We are sword brothers,” Kasim had reminded him. “Did we not stand side by side on the hill top with Kananda and his golden woman and defeat all of Maghalla?”

“Only most of Maghalla.”

Gujar had smiled at the memory, they had clasped hands to renew their friendship, and now they toured the remaining taverns together.

It was late at night as they made their third visit together through the narrow, stinking streets close by the river. They wore swords under their cloaks and they were sharply alert for thieves and cut-throats. This was a dangerous hour to be abroad in this district, but it was also the hour when drink had taken hold and more tongues were loosened. They had already visited most of the low, dimly lit drinking hovels in this part of the city, and their hopes were fading. The dead hunchback and his friend with the disease ravaged face had to be part of an easily recognizable trio, but so far no one was talking. Only Gujar's dogged persistence and Kasim's unfailing loyalty made them continue their quest.

Burning torches on either side of a doorway lit up a cracked wooden sign that was carved with the image of a sailing ship. The noise of laughter and drinking filtered out and they knew they had found another tavern. They pushed through a cheap curtain of leather strips and blinked as the smoky atmosphere stung their eyes. The interior was shadowy and dimly lit by a mixture of more torches and equally foul oil lamps. There were a dozen or more tables and all were fully occupied by hard-faced, rough-looking men and a few sluttish women. The room stank of sweat and tar and the sea. Some of the drinkers were already slumped drunk over their cups. The few who noticed the quiet arrival of the two tall young men in dark cloaks stared at them intently.

Gujar led the way deeper inside, and with nowhere to sit, they stopped against the wall to survey the scene.

“Each one smells worse than the last,” Kasim murmured ruefully. “Perhaps we are getting close.”

“I have yet to see a more likely den for murderers,” Gujar agreed. He caught the eye of the man behind the serving counter, and with some reluctance, the man left his post and came toward them. His eyes were wary, for these were not his usual sort of customers and already he sensed trouble.

“Two cups of wine,” Gujar ordered. The man stared at him, expecting more, and then grunted and went back to his counter to pour the drinks. There were two serving girls running between the counter and the tables, but the man chose to return with the wine himself.

“Would the young lords require anything else?” He had judged their rank and spoke deferentially, but his flat brown eyes were still cautious. As he spoke, he looked toward the nearest of the girls and raised an eyebrow.

The girl saw the look. She paused in her work and smiled invitingly. She had clean white teeth, and in an age-old gesture, she touched her finger to her tongue and then ran it slowly and wetly along her lower lip. With her free hand, she pulled tentatively at the top of her shirt, half exposing a plump, rounded breast.

Kasim shifted uncomfortably, half tempted and half embarrassed. Gujar remained single-minded and kept his level gaze fixed on the tavern-keeper. He opened the palm of his hand to reveal three small gold coins, and pushed one forward with his thumb to pay for the wine.

“We would buy information,” he said softly.

Refusal and greed fought together in the man's eyes. “What sort of information?” he mumbled at last

“Three men.” Gujar watched his eyes. “One with a hunched back, another with a pox-marked face, the third almost as short as a dwarf. Did they ever drink in here?”

“No.” The answer was too quick and too sharp. “Never seen them,” he almost choked. He looked down at the three coins in Gujar's palm, snatched the one offered in payment for the wine, and then hurried back to his counter.

“He lies,” Kasim said shortly.

Gujar nodded thoughtfully.

Kasim eased his cloak and dropped his hand to the hilt of his blade. “A sword point at his throat might prick the truth out of him,” he suggested.

“We are strangers here and he may have too many friends among this rabble.” Gujar thought for a moment. “Let us drink up and then have another cup of wine.”

Kasim tasted what was in his cup and grimaced. “Do we have to drink more wine?”

Gujar laughed and set the example. Reluctantly, Kasim drained his cup. This time Gujar deliberately caught the eye of the serving girl and showed her the two empty cups. “What is your name?” he asked as she took them from him.

“I am called Devi.” She flirted knowingly with her eyes and then took the cups to be refilled. When she returned she was clearly inclined to linger, even before Gujar showed her the gold coins in his hand.

“There is a room at the back,” she offered.

Gujar smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and turning her slightly so that their backs were toward the room. He wanted no one to lip read.

“I want something special from you,” he whispered in her ear.

Devi laughed. “I can offer any speciality you can imagine.”

“Information,” Gujar kept his voice low. “Three men who once drank here, several weeks ago when the blue gods were in the city. A hunchback, a scarface, and a dwarf.”

Shock paled Devi's face and stilled her laughter. She tried to pull away but Gujar's grip was tight. “They cannot harm you now,” he insisted. “All three of them are dead.”

“They were assassins,” she whispered back. “It is dangerous to speak even of dead assassins.”

Kasim held up his hand, and she saw another gold coin in his fingers. She licked her suddenly dry lips and looked toward the serving counter. The tavern keeper was busy with the second serving girl. She looked back again into the set face of Gujar.

“No one will know. I will tell no other of what you tell me. It is easy gold.”

“They came here often,” she admitted fearfully. “Whenever they were in the city. This is where they drank and stayed.”

“Before they tried to kill the blue god, who did they speak with?”

“They spoke little. Most men avoided them.”

“The tavern keeper?”

“Daksha knows them. He rented them a room, served them wine, but that is all.”

“Perhaps we should speak again with Daksha.” Kasim said grimly.

“No, please.” Devi looked from one to another in panic. “After you have gone he will kill me.”

“Perhaps we will kill him before we leave,” Kasim offered.

“No.” The serving girl was terrified. She knew that she had said too much and was desperate now to protect herself. “The three men you speak of—they did meet once with a stranger. He was a Lord, a Great Prince, like yourselves. They talked, and the High One gave them a purse before he hurried away.”

“This High One,” Gujar pressed. “What did he look like?”

“He wore a dark cloak, like your own, and a black hood to cover his face. They stayed in the shadows. That is all I know.”

“How could you tell that he was high born?”

“By his manner, and theirs. They bowed to him and touched their fingers to their foreheads. And his dress. He wore a sword, like yours, under his cloak. And there were jewels on his fingers. I think he was a royal prince.”

“Why?” Gujar's fingers tightened on her arm until tears flooded her eyes. “What made you think he might be from the royal household?”

“One of the jewels on his finger, it was shaped like the rising sun.” She whimpered the last words and then begged, “Please. Do not ask me any more. I do not know any more.”

Gujar relaxed his grip, and then gently stroked the tears from her cheek. “I am sorry, I did not mean to hurt you. I thank you for all you have told me. You had best go now before Daksha becomes suspicious.”

He slipped the gold coins into her hand and Kasim gave her the extra coin he had shown her. She hid them quickly in a pocket at her waist, and then made a brave attempt to smear the last of her tears away from her face.

“If you change your mind,” she said loudly. “There is still the back room.”

She turned away, and a few men at the nearer tables looked up and they laughed.

“Perhaps after a few more cups,” Gujar called after her.

They watched her go back to her work and reluctantly sipped more of the coarse red wine.

“Prince Sanjay or Prince Devan?” Kasim murmured at last. “Perhaps with the authority of Kara-Rashna himself. Is that possible?”

Gujar shook his head. “I cannot believe it. It would make sense for any one of them to arrange for the assassination of the blue one, but I cannot believe that any one of them would deliberately compromise my father. He was one of the king's oldest friends.” A frown marred his handsome features and he finished slowly. “We have learned much tonight, Kasim, but somehow I have the feeling that we are still missing something.”

CHAPTER SIX

In the bleak dawn light, Raven and Maryam left their quarters and boarded the Space Corps sky-car that was to take them back to the Kaz-ar spacefield. Flakes of snow drifted across the parade ground, a phenomenon that Maryam had never witnessed before, and she grimaced and shivered as she pulled her coarse red wool cloak tighter around her shoulders. They were going north, where it would probably be even colder, and she was not sure whether she would have preferred to be left behind. She knew that Raven was only taking her with him because he was not sure that he could safely leave her. Either way she was becoming ever more disenchanted with this grim new world. She knew now that her bond with Raven was her only means of survival, and she was not sure how much she could rely on that.

Taron and Garl were both seated in the back of the sky-car. Both had volunteered to accompany their ship commander, to back his blade with their swords. Maryam was not sure whether they acted from friendship and loyalty, or whether this was more political expedience. It seemed that here only military politics were important, supported by the Gheddan law of the sword.

“Caid and Landis have both chosen to stay with their women,” Garl said with contempt.

“It is their choice.” Raven shrugged as he climbed into the co-pilot seat of the vehicle.

Maryam was left with no option but to get into the back of the vehicle, squeezing in beside Taron and Garl behind the pilot. The two Gheddans gave her cautious leers of welcome. She knew they lusted for her, but while she was Raven's woman, she was inviolate. She wondered what would happen if Raven was killed in his next sword duel, and guessed that they would probably fight to decide which of them would own her. She shuddered and tried to keep both the thought and the reaction hidden.

The flight was a short one, and as soon as they had landed and disembarked, their pilot took off again and whirled the sky-car away. They had been emptied out beside a long, hard road runway where a two-winged flying vehicle waited for them. It was much smaller than the Solar Cruiser space ship with which Maryam was familiar. Raven looked round the otherwise empty runway and his face hardened. His immediate displeasure was obvious.

The Sword Lord Karn waited by the flying machine to greet them. He came forward stiffly, and the anger in his face was evident behind the fixed grey mask of pain. They all exchanged open palm salutes.

“I ordered a rotor-flyer to take you all of the way,” Karn said flatly. “But it seems that Doran chose yesterday to order a military exercise that would involve every rotor-flyer on the base. They are all unavailable.”

Taron eyed the fixed wing aircraft. “How close can we get?”

“My stronghold is deep in the mountains above the forest,” Raven answered. “The nearest landing field for anything other than a hovering rotor-flyer is at least three days away by horseback.”

“Two days,” Taron repeated gloomily. “And no doubt it is all excellent terrain for an ambush.”

“Thick forest trails, and then rugged foothills leading up into the mountains,” Raven agreed.

“Yours is a private matter, outside the empire.” Karn shrugged. “I cannot order an escort. I would accompany you myself, but with my guts burning I would now be more of a liability than an extra sword.”

Raven smiled and clapped the older man firmly on the shoulder. “Have the aircraft return for us in five days. We will be back here by the sixth dawn. Until then, watch your back with Doran.”

Karn shrugged. “Doran only needs to wait for me to die. He is only scheming out of habit, and possibly from concern that I may use you as my sword against him.”