The Legacy of Lord Regret: Strange Threads: Book 1 (25 page)

He felt bolder as he approached Saphura, more inclined to squeeze the town for honey. He followed the path around the hill,
and down the slope ahead. Along the Lumin, blue-tiled buildings smiled at him. White froth milled about stone wharves that
broke the river’s flow, and the doughty little boats tied to them.

It was a relief for Despirrow to see a place so familiar, a place he sentimentalised. He’d had some good times here.

Had that been before the change, or after?

He frowned, not quite sure. Maybe both.

With a shrug and a jolly bounce in his step, he made his way down the hill. As he neared the edge of town, a sight stopped
him in his tracks.

‘Ah,’ he said.

A little way off the path, across grass, nestled between copses of trees, colourfully attired locals gathered around a makeshift
stage. Upon it stood a beautiful young woman
in a flowing green dress, the groom beside her beaming his fool head off. Between them was a white-robed priest bearing the
lightning insignia, listening to them speak their vows, and making the breeze whistle about them.

My weakness, my joy
.

Of all things that were hard to resist, weddings topped Despirrow’s list. To take the bride in full view of her friends and
family – rutting at her would-be husband’s feet, his ears unhearing of her pleas, and then leave her there, weeping, as time
came back, bloodied and bruised and sullied – oh, there was no greater thievery! So ultimately selfish, such an act of pure
taking
, debauchery divine.

He stepped from the path, all thoughts of whorehouses forgotten. His encounter with the Spell had made him reckless – time
was ticking by, and who knew when he might be presented with such an opportunity again?

‘Despirrow.’

The voice froze him even as he’d been about to freeze time. One more moment and it would have been done. Instead, coldly,
angrily, he turned to take in the equally chilly eyes of his old comrade, who stood under a tree, camouflaged in the shade
against the sight of others.

‘What are you doing here?’ spat Despirrow.

‘Saving you from yourself, it seems,’ said Salarkis.

‘Find me later if you want to talk. I am occupied.’

‘I see what you’re about, Despirrow. Don’t you think
they
might be closely watching, waiting and listening for any sign of us?’

‘I do not fear Braston.’

‘How about he and Yalenna both? Don’t you think they’ll hear about a strange happenstance, in which a bride claims to have
been raped during her wedding ceremony … or simply disappears, if you planned to kill her once you’re done? Don’t you think
it will bring them to you like wasps to maggots?’

‘I can be gone from here afterwards.’

‘Before you even step foot in Saphura? Don’t you wish to see her streets again, drink her wine?’

‘I’ll let you have a turn!’ hissed Despirrow. ‘After me, you can have what’s left of her!’

Salarkis chuckled. ‘It would not appeal to dip my fish in the sop of your handiwork, even if I had the fish … which I do not,
or have you forgotten?’ He grew steelier. ‘It’s not just Braston and Yalenna after us, Despirrow. It’s Karrak too.’

Longingly Despirrow stared as the couple leaned in for a kiss to seal their union. As the onlookers cheered and cried, he
knew his precious moment was lost. Oh, he could find her later, but it would not be the same – she would just be another woman
then, no longer the bride on her wedding stage.

Salarkis’s last words finally trickled into his brain.

‘What?’

‘Karrak. He is no longer one of us. He has gone over, joined
them
.’

‘No.’ Despirrow couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Karrak? Turned good? I don’t believe it.’

‘It is, however, true.’

‘Why? How?’

‘He has been alive the whole time we slumbered. Time has changed him, for better or worse, depending where you stand.’

The couple stepped down to move between their guests, who showered them with petals. Despirrow scowled.

‘That is unwelcome news.’

Though he had never liked Karrak much in the first place, it was still difficult to believe they were now true enemies.

‘Take heart, comrade. You can still have your fun. Just choose wiser victims.’

‘I am not some weasel slinking in dark alleys! I take,’ Despirrow thumped his chest, ‘who I want!’

Salarkis shrugged. ‘If you wish. Meanwhile I shall threadwalk far away, for Saphura will be ruined for us all.’

Despirrow’s shoulders sagged.

‘Come, my friend,’ said Salarkis. ‘You have gold, do you not?’

‘Of course.’

Briefly he remembered the fat-pursed merchant he had met on the road, and his beautiful daughter. That had been the first
instance of stopping time since he’d been back, the double reward too much to resist.

‘Saphura still has whores, no doubt,’ said Salarkis. ‘Ease your lust in a common way, just this once, as a favour to me. When
you have done so, in the aftermath of clarity,
you will know that I was right. If not, curse my name, and do as you will.’

Reluctantly Despirrow knew that he was being given sound advice.

‘What about you?’ he said. ‘Are you still Forger’s errand boy, come to counsel me to return to his side? I will get there,
in the end. I’m just taking my time.’

‘No,’ said Salarkis. ‘I’m no one’s lackey.’

Despirrow scoffed.

‘I guess you could say,’ Salarkis continued, ignoring the slight, ‘that I am taking my own time too. Which doesn’t mean I
can’t look out for my comrades in the meantime. Stealer is dead –’

‘So that is true.’

‘– killed by Karrak –’

Despirrow grimaced.

‘– leaving only you, I, and Forger as … allies. The odds are not stacked in our favour as once they were, Despirrow. I only
hope that Mergan is mad enough to be no help to our enemies.’

‘Mergan? Mad?’

‘He was locked in Regret’s tomb for three hundred years.’

‘How do you know all this? Have you been having any conversations I should know about?’

‘Sometimes,’ said Salarkis with a wink, ‘when I listen, people do not know I’m there.’

He gave a mocking little bow, and unravelled.

The commotion from the wedding grew louder, and Despirrow realised they were heading towards him, no doubt to carry the festivities
into town.

He turned away, not wishing to look upon what had been denied him.

As Yalenna made her way through the castle to her quarters, Captain Jandryn emerged in front of her, heading in the same direction.
She drifted along behind him for a while, her soft shoes making no noise on the carpet. For some peaceful moments all other
thoughts left her as she found herself admiring his well-turned calves. Then he glanced around and saw her, and the tweak
of a smile on her lips vanished.

‘My lady,’ he said, stopping to wait.

‘Hello, Jandryn.’

He fell into step beside her. ‘I was just on my way to see you.’

‘Oh, yes? What should I know?’

‘Er …’ He glanced about. She wondered if reporting to her made him anxious, as she was not officially part of the castle hierarchy.
‘I just wanted to see if you … wanted anything done?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ she said, ‘I wonder if there’s been any word of Despirrow? We are hoping to track him.’

‘Nothing I know of, my lady.’

‘Braston has already instructed his threaders to keep their ears open, but if you hear anything, come to me first.
Especially anything about strange rapes and assaults on women.’

Her words made him uncomfortable. ‘I will, my lady.’

‘Good. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m quite tired.’

‘Of course.’

They were halfway down a corridor without an easy exit, though it was clear to Jandryn he was being dismissed. Awkwardly he
turned and went the other way, trying to make it appear that he had some purpose in that direction. Yalenna smiled a little
at his discomfort, finding it somehow endearing.

She reached her quarters and, upon entering, found Salarkis sitting in her armchair by the window.

‘Hello,’ she said.

Salarkis gave her a wan glance. ‘Despirrow is in Saphura,’ he said. ‘Thought you’d like to know.’

As seemed to be becoming his infuriating habit, he disappeared.

Braston led the way onto the bridge. It was important for him, thought Rostigan, to go first, to be bold. Or maybe he did
it naturally, instinctively. Either way,
let him
.

Underfoot the Lumin gurgled along happily, somehow putting him in touch with the deep place – with all the rivers he had ever
crossed, as if water was a continuum. His skin prickled, and he felt alive; the sun on his skin, the cool vapour rising from
beneath, the smell of trees, all simple sensations combining to form a moment of near-painful connection. It was comforting
to know that there were forces in the world greater than he, older, outside his control.

‘Are you coming?’

This from Yalenna, spoken softly, and he realised he had been loitering at the end of the bridge, as if the final step would
change things. He took it, and it did. Peace left him, as he remembered what they were here to do.

They moved along the path, past a hill in which a cave mouth yawned. Curious, Rostigan went to look inside – he didn’t remember
seeing it before. It was not very large or deep, and he thought it seemed man-made. What had someone thought they would find
in there?

‘Come on,’ said Braston impatiently.

Around the bend the path sloped down towards the town. Saphura was a pretty place, its shiny blue buildings and white cobbled
streets hedged in by wood and river, so closely that town and nature were almost intermixed.

Tarzi was fond of this city, he remembered. They had come here once together and spent several days doing not much of anything.
He wished that she was here now, that they were heading to the riverbank together, where he would smoke his pipe and watch
her fish, eventually snoozing in the shade. There was something about the constant sound of running water that already made
him feel half-asleep.

The town itself, on the other hand, was quite noisy. The streets were full of bustle, and there was plenty of activity around
the docks. They approached from the lesser travelled direction, and on the other side of town to the north the snake of a
wider road was visible, wrapping around hilltops to jaggedly follow the river.

They moved down the slope and drew level with the town. Although the Wardens were dressed modestly – the other two had shed
priestess’s robe and king’s cape for more commonplace garb – they still attracted a number of stares.
Rostigan did not think it was because they were strangers, for Saphura’s fish trade and decadent reputation brought visitors
from far and wide. Perhaps the three of them – he grim with a large broadsword slung across his back, she beautiful and smooth
and sure, and Braston a tower of muscle – simply made for a striking group. The thought did not warm him, for they did not
want Despirrow noticing them first. He quickened his step and caught Braston by the arm. Braston, whose eyes had been sweeping
back and forth across the street, snapped around, tenser than Rostigan had thought.

‘Have you spotted him?’ Braston asked intently.

‘He will spot us, if we continue charging down the middle of the main road.’

‘We should split up,’ said Yalenna. ‘He can avoid us less easily that way.’

Braston gave a fierce nod.

They turned from one another to go separate ways.

As she slipped through the crowd, Yalenna hoped Salarkis had not tricked them into coming here – that she hadn’t led Braston
and Ka— … Rostigan … on some kind of distractive chase, or into a trap.

I do trust him
, she told herself,
if only because I want to
.

Lacking a method to zero in on Despirrow with any certainty, she thought it best to start by checking the brothels. Unlike
with some towns, Saphura’s brothels were
not all cloistered away in some district of ill-repute. Here they were attached to taverns, or stood proudly amongst other
businesses displaying their names on signs carved with suggestive silhouettes. There were more of them than she remembered,
and she wondered how the local fishermen avoided running into their daughters … but then again, many daughters had probably
escaped their families elsewhere, to come here. Sons, too, she thought, as she eyed off two muscular youths accompanying a
pair of older women dripping in gems.

On the other side of the road she saw Rostigan going through a swinging doorway into a plush-looking den. Inside she caught
a glimpse of scantily clad girls on tabletops, around which men sat drinking from silvery mugs. Plush, but not plush enough
– and there she found her method. She needed to locate the best, most expensive place there was.

She stopped at a street stall where dried fish hung on ropes over bowls of shiny berries. They looked quite delicious, though
there were a half a dozen stores just like it within sight. The storekeeper, who seemed ill kept and sweaty under his freshly
laundered clothes, watched her with hopeful eyes.

‘Can I help you, miss?’

‘I need some information,’ said Yalenna.

‘Oh,’ he said, evidently disappointed. A blessing sank into him –
rats will never steal from your larder
– but he would not guess that he was far richer for the interaction than he would be from any simple sale of produce.

Besides, Yalenna flipped a couple of coins onto his counter.

‘Well, miss,’ he said, swiftly palming the money, ‘that is very generous. What would you like to know?’

‘Have there been any assaults in the last day or so?’

‘Ah …’ the man frowned. ‘Couple of fellows beat each other pretty bad over at the Curdled Sow …’

‘Involving women.’

‘Hmm? Oh, nothing like that. Saphura may have a colourful reputation, but there are plenty of well-paid guards around to make
sure nothing happens to its folk! No matter what line of work they’re in.’

‘In that case, where’s the best whorehouse in town?’

His eyebrows only went up slightly.

‘That depends. What kind of … taste … needs to be catered for?’

‘A man’s taste for beautiful women.’

‘I see.’ He eyeballed her in a different way now – perhaps he thought she meant to seek employment. ‘That would be The Silken
Glove. It’s a little further on, on the right – look for the sign, you can’t miss it.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and popped some berries in her mouth.

True to the storekeeper’s word, The Silken Glove wasn’t far at all. The sign was a beckoning hand with the name in silver,
the door an elegant steel frame carved with spirals, and there weren’t any windows on the ground floor. She
approached the heavyset doorman who stood outside, a crossbow on his back.

‘May I enter?’ she asked.

He looked her up and down. ‘The mistress does not currently seek any more ladies – though one of your quality shouldn’t have
trouble finding work elsewhere.’

‘I’m not here for work – I’m looking for a friend of mine, maybe you’ve seen him? He dresses very well, like a courtier –’

‘People dress all kinds of ways,’ he interrupted, ‘and we do not disturb our clients in their rooms for any reason, social
visits included.’

His tone had turned a little nasty, and she did not feel he deserved his blessing –
may you never get sick again
. With a subtle flick she seized hold of his boots, and he grunted in surprise as, seemingly of their own accord, they marched
him out of her way.

‘What?’ he said, then realisation dawned. ‘You’re a thr—’

A little wave, and his lips snapped shut.

‘Just you stay out here a while,’ she told him, ‘and be silent.’

Moving past, she pushed through the door.

Inside was a dim area lit by lanterns and candles, lined with soft couches where men sat meeting prospective partners. Overseeing
it was a high desk, behind which sat an older woman in a frilled violet dress, still with a touch of glamour about her, though
painted lips and cheeks could not disguise her sagging skin.

Her eyebrow quirked as Yalenna approached. ‘Hello. You’re not one of ours?’

‘I’m looking for a man.’

The madam frowned. ‘Why did Gosk let you in? He should have explained that we do not cater for –’

‘A particular man,’ said Yalenna. ‘A tall fellow, thin, probably well dressed, with a taste for fine wine.’

The madam’s eyes glittered – she knew something. ‘I must ask you to leave,’ she said, and glanced towards a dark corner where
another brute waited. Yalenna slipped a hand over the desk and seized her by the wrist.

‘Do not summon him,’ she said in a low voice. A blessing transferred to the woman –
may you never feel the cold of your morning bath
. ‘Listen to me. I am a powerful threader. If you do not tell me what I wish to know, I will cause you a great deal of trouble.’

If the madam was afraid, she hid it well.

‘There are threaders in the town guards, you know,’ she hissed. ‘You cannot do as you like just because you have magic.’

‘I doubt they’ll be here in the time I need to collapse this musk-smelling hovel.’ Yalenna released the woman’s wrist. ‘Come,
this is only one man. He isn’t a good man, either – trust me when I say that your establishment is better off without him.’

The madam tried to rally. ‘We pride ourselves on the privacy we provide.’

‘There won’t be much privacy to be had when the town dogs wander freely through the rents I’ll leave in your walls.’

‘Everything all right here, ma’am?’

This from the brute, who had wandered over.

‘Er … yes, Terrik.’ The madam was growing spooked now. Yalenna did not like having to use force, but there was an urgency
to her task. ‘Please leave us.’

Terrik withdrew, back to his post.

‘Well?’ said Yalenna.

‘All
right
. I think I know what fellow you mean … though in truth, the description you gave could fit many round here.’

‘He wears lots of rings.’

The madam sighed. ‘First floor. Room sixteen. Are you his wife?’

Yalenna gave an unladylike snort and made for the stairs. At the top she found a well-groomed landing, carpet plumped up and
lewd tapestries hanging.
Do they want to think they’re in a castle?
she wondered disdainfully, as she moved swiftly along the corridor to the door marked sixteen.

She flung it open.

A naked girl tangled in sheets sat up with a gasp, as an open window banged in the breeze. From the street below came the
sound of commotion.

‘Who are –’ the girl said, before time froze.

Despirrow had woken with a start. As one in tune with the threads of time, he’d felt a vibration he knew all too well – a
warning, of bad things on the way.

He sat up, causing the girl beside him to groan. He could have groaned himself, for he’d had much wine the previous night.
As his eyes fell on the sleeping whore’s rising bosom, there came an insistent urge to set about her again – but the feeling
that put him on edge superseded it. He rose, and opened the window.

Voices came from the street below.

‘… a friend of mine, maybe you’ve seen him? He dresses very well, like a courtier …’

Despirrow flattened against the wall. All too well, he knew that voice. Had she come alone, or did she have company?

Carefully, he peeked through the window again. She was in the process of moving the doorman, and before he could summon the
focus to bend her skull inwards, she departed from view into the brothel.

He ran to his pile of things and pulled on clothes and boots. Back to the window he went and, as he hastily fixed rings onto
his fingers, he scanned the street.

There
.

So, it was true – Karrak had gone over to the enemy. He saw his old ally only for a moment, entering a tavern across the way.
Hatred suffused him, but there was fear also, enlivening his body and clearing his groggy head.

Yalenna was somewhere beneath, and Karrak nearby, but for a moment the street was clear. Scrambling through the
window, Despirrow dropped feet first, sending influence ahead of him to soften the cobblestones to mush. He landed, feet sinking
into the street as if it were mud, and people who saw him blinked in surprise. With stinging soles he spun about, spied the
doorman standing rigidly with his mouth firmly shut.