The Long War 02 - The Dark Blood (53 page)

A sound from the undergrowth nearby shook Dalian out of his reverie. The sound was made by a man stuck in the brambles, complaining about the sharp thorns.

‘It’s not polite to skulk in shadows, friend,’ said Dalian.

‘No, no, it is not,’ replied a strange voice. ‘Give me a second to disentangle myself and I’ll skulk in the moonlight.’

The Thief Taker narrowed his eyes at the speaker’s bizarrely lyrical accent. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘One second...’ The speaker loosed a short torrent of curses at the brambles. ‘Nanon... you can call me Nanon.’

Dalian watched a thin, robed figure step from the bush and lean casually against a tree. His features were hidden, partially by the darkness, partially by his hooded cloak, but he was armed and his movements were fluid and graceful.

‘Maybe I should have asked
what are you
, friend,’ said Dalian, facing the stranger.

‘I would show you, but folks around here might not be as worldly as you,’ the figure replied.

Dalian could not place the accent, though he was certain that the speaker was neither Ro nor Karesian. He checked that none of the tavern’s other patrons was paying any attention. The terrace was mostly empty, with the other drinkers sitting inside, leaving Dalian to enjoy the evening air with just three more men for company.

‘Are you a risen man?’ asked the Karesian, using his minimal knowledge of the forest-dwellers to make an educated guess.

A hollow chuckle emanated from the shadowy figure and the Thief Taker reckoned his guess had been correct.

‘Some of your people would call me that. I prefer Nanon, if it’s all the same to you,’ said the forest-dweller, stepping far enough out of the shadows to render his face visible.

Dalian had seen them before, but this one was shorter than those he’d encountered. The skin was still a flawless grey, the eyes slightly angled and the ears leaf-shaped. His longsword was of Ro design and looked out of place at the side of the slender non-human. The strangest thing, however, was the broad smile he wore.

‘You’ll forgive me not joining you at the table,’ said the risen man. ‘I work better in the shadows of men than at their side. Your cities are difficult places.’

Dalian frowned. ‘It’s not my city. I’m from a long way south of here.’

‘You’re still a man, Dalian, devotee of Jaa,’ responded Nanon, taking a step back into the shadows. ‘Your mind works the same... broadly speaking.’

‘You are beginning to irritate me, grey-skin,’ Dalian snarled. He disliked the idea of his name being known by a strange creature in the shadows of Ro Leith.

‘Settle down, Karesian man,’ said Nanon. ‘I’m not your enemy and I sometimes blurt things out when I meet a new person. Sorry.’

Dalian placed his wine glass on the table and stood up. He casually straightened his robes and looked around. After a slight stretch to alleviate a stiff neck, he strolled towards Nanon. The forest-dweller quickly became visible as the Thief Taker joined him in the darkness.

He locked eyes with the non-human and began to stare him down. The forest-dweller carried on smiling and showed only the slightest blink of awkwardness at the Karesian’s glare. After a few moments, Dalian darted forward and grabbed the risen man by the throat, shoving him hard against the tree. His grip was strong and Nanon gasped for breath, surprised by the sudden flash of violence.

‘I don’t play games, grey-skin,’ said Dalian in a deathly quiet voice. ‘Neither should you.’ He tightened his grip. ‘Tell me how you know my name, or I’ll kill you.’

Dalian surmised the strange creature was built for speed rather than strength and would be easy to subdue. The wind claw narrowed his eyes and drew his scimitar, placing it across the forest-dweller’s throat.

‘Well,’ began Nanon, showing little alarm at being held by his throat against a tree, ‘it’s a little difficult to explain.’ He craned his neck as best he could and looked towards the unconscious forger from Tiris. ‘I know his name too.’

Dalian snarled. ‘Three seconds and I take more blood than you can spare, grey-skin... one...’

‘Hm, perhaps you should calm down,’ said Nanon, still not showing any fear.

‘Two,’ continued the Thief Taker.

‘This is really not a productive way to spend our time, Karesian man,’ said the forest-dweller.

‘Three,’ concluded Dalian and started to push his weight forward against the creature’s throat.

Nanon winked. The gesture looked bizarre on his grey features and was well practised rather than natural. Just as Dalian’s scimitar was about to bite into his skin, the forest-dweller raised his elbow with lightning speed and shoved away the Karesian’s forearm. He gripped the man’s wrist and twisted it with surprising strength. Dalian grunted in pain, involuntarily dropping his weapon as he was spun round and pinned to the tree.

‘You’re very good at fighting, Karesian man,’ said the forest-dweller, ‘but I can kill you with a wink. It seems that it is necessary to establish this before you’ll calm down.’

‘Release me,’ barked Dalian.

‘You don’t sound calm yet,’ responded the grey-skin. ‘I really was trying to avoid this. My choice was between a drunken Ro and a hot-tempered Karesian... which would you have chosen?’

‘It’s hard to be calm when your arm is twisted behind your back,’ Dalian said drily. ‘Release me, now.’

The forest-dweller loosened his grasp on Dalian’s arm and stepped back a few paces, allowing him to turn from the tree. He slowly retrieved his scimitar, placing it back at his side.

‘What do you want, grey-skin?’

‘I want to rescue Rham Jas Rami, as you do,’ replied Nanon, smiling broadly.

* * *

Saara the Mistress of Pain cradled the cloud-stone gently in her hands and wondered why, of all the races of men, the Ranen had discovered such an unusually useful item. The Ro and the Karesians had no device or craft that enabled long-distance communication.

She could see the smiling face of her sister, Isabel the Seductress. ‘I have inched him up to the knuckles, beloved sister, and we have left him to squirm in pain.’

The Mistress of Pain clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘I think it’s worth experimenting to see how extensive his healing abilities are.’ She was gratified and relieved that Rham Jas Rami was no longer a threat.

‘The Black cleric has proven most useful, dear Saara, he obeys orders without question.’ Elihas of Du Ban’s motives were unclear, but Saara suspected he was more than simply a traitor to the One God.

‘The Kirin apostate has just arrived in Ro Weir and we are making sure that she is... well looked after,’ said Saara with evident relish.

‘Excellent news,’ responded Isabel. ‘The dark-blood knows that Keisha is ours now. He actually seemed upset at the news.’

‘For all his faults, Rham Jas is a dutiful father and it’s the best way of keeping him in line. I’ll keep his daughter safe for as long as he cooperates.’ Saara felt elated at their victory. It was strange to admit that she had actually been afraid of the dark-blood, but now she realized how foolish she had been.

‘Are you well, sister?’ asked Isabel, concerned at Saara’s manner.

‘I am... I am,’ replied the Mistress of Pain. ‘I found myself worried for a moment... just a moment. The assassin has killed three of our number and I am relieved.’

‘Fear not, beloved Saara,’ said Isabel. ‘The father of pleasure and blood protects the worthy.’ She looked down. ‘I hate to say such a thing, but it seems likely that Ameira, Katja and Lillian were unworthy.’

Saara nodded reluctantly. ‘I will pray to the Dead God that their replacements are built of stronger stuff, my dear sister.’

‘Have you spoken to the matron mother?’ asked Isabel.

‘I have not spoken to the old witch since I was a girl,’ replied Saara, shivering slightly at the memory of her own harsh treatment at the abbey. ‘She knows her job.’

‘Take some rest, beloved sister,’ said Isabel with a pout. ‘You look exhausted.’

‘I can rest later,’ she replied. ‘What news of the old-blood?’

Isabel considered the question. ‘The assassin insists that he has not allied with the Ghost, and Elihas is convinced that Utha the Ghost would never work with a Kirin.’

‘Hm, let us hope that Sir Pevain turns up at some point. He’s disappeared for now.’ The last she had heard, the mercenary knight had left Cozz with a small force of hounds and headed south after Utha.

‘What do you wish me to do with the dark-blood?’ asked Isabel.

‘Leave him for half an hour and then continue the inching. Once he’s lost an arm, leave him overnight to see if he heals.’ The Mistress of Pain was sorry that she would not be able to witness the torture first-hand.

* * *

Dalian had relaxed slowly, allowing Nanon to apologize a few times before he conceded that he needed the strange creature’s help.

The cries of pain from the assassin’s cell had stopped now and he guessed that Rham Jas must have been inched up to his elbow. The Thief Taker had administered hundreds of inchings in his life and had relished every one. To hear that one of the Seven Sisters was using Jaa’s punishment offended Dalian greatly.

It was rapidly approaching midnight and the dungeon of Ro Leith was dark and quiet, though the wind claws continued their regular patrol.

‘So,’ muttered Nanon, ‘we have an impenetrable dungeon and a small army of wind claws?’

Dalian was leaning against a tree, holding a bottle of Ro wine. They were within sight of the feeding trough that led to the assassin’s cell. The drunken forger from Tiris was nearby, but the man had begun snoring an hour ago and would likely prove useless.

‘Do you drink?’ he asked Nanon. ‘To drink seems the appropriate reaction to an impossible problem.’

The forest-dweller leant forward. ‘No, I don’t drink,’ he replied. ‘You’re a traitor to these wind claws, yes?’

The Thief Taker raised his eyebrows. ‘They believe me to be an enemy of Karesia,’ he replied. ‘The Seven Sisters have twisted the wind claws into their personal guard. They probably want me almost as much as they wanted the assassin.’

‘There are too many to fight,’ said Nanon, ‘and they all know who you are, so stealth is a little redundant. Hm...’ The forest-dweller craned forward and turned his head to one side. He seemed to be listening for something, though his face was expressionless. ‘Do you hear that?’ he asked quietly.

Dalian took a moment to listen, but heard nothing. ‘I hear birds, the wind, and the forger snoring, nothing more.’

Nanon pushed back his hood and tucked his black hair behind his ears. Their elongated shape suggested a keener sense of hearing than that of men, and the forest-dweller could obviously make out something that concerned him.

‘What do you hear, grey-skin?’ asked Dalian.

‘I hear grunts of pain, from the cell.’

‘He has plenty of reason to be in pain. It’s not so unusual.’ The Thief Taker had only ever seen a handful of men inched up to the elbow. Most gave in or died well before that.

‘But he’d been quiet,’ said the forest-dweller. ‘Rham Jas can take pain and he’s been on his own for at least an hour. He’s up to something.’

‘You said that he’s strapped to an inching chair. And he only has one arm,’ responded Dalian. ‘He can’t be up to much.’

‘He’s a dark-blood,’ said Nanon, as if that explained everything. ‘I honestly don’t think the maleficent witches know what they’re dealing with.’

Dalian was too proud to admit that he had no idea what Nanon was talking about. The Thief Taker wanted to rescue the assassin so that he could kill the Mistress of Pain, but he was beginning to realize that he was not the only one who wanted Rham Jas to escape, and his reason might not even be the most pressing.

Nanon winced, as if he was feeling the Kirin’s pain. ‘He’s doing something to himself.’ Another wince, worse this time. ‘Rham Jas, what are you doing?’

‘Grey-skin,’ demanded Dalian, ‘what are you hearing?’

Nanon turned away from the feeding trough. ‘He was waiting for them to inch him up to his elbow,’ he said, as if reading the Kirin’s thoughts, ‘so that he can squeeze the stump out of his restraints.’

‘He’s in an inching chair, the stump of his left hand won’t do him any good.’ He was tough, but the idea that he could free himself from the chair was wishful thinking.

‘Come with me,’ said the forest-dweller.

Dalian joined him. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

Nanon didn’t answer. He merely smiled and pulled his hood back over his head, obscuring the non-human features that might get him arrested or killed. With his hands tucked inside his robe, the forest-dweller left the shadows and walked to the road that ran round the third hill of Leith.

Dalian checked the patrol pattern of the wind claws as he joined Nanon. ‘If we’re going to his cell, we’ll need to...’ He was about to warn him to wait until there was a gap in the guards’ movements, but the forest-dweller had stepped into the road and walked directly towards the feeding trough.

‘Sorry, lord,’ said Dalian. ‘I have little choice but to consider this creature an ally.’ He stepped off the grassy bank and followed behind Nanon. The forest-dweller had timed his walk perfectly and they briskly slipped into the shadows opposite.

‘Very slick, grey-skin,’ said Dalian, crouching down next to the stone walls of the trough.

‘Thank you, Karesian man,’ said Nanon cheerfully.

Rham Jas was panting heavily and emitting low snarls. The trough sloped away to the small barred window below street level. There was a flickering light coming through the window and Dalian guessed there was a brazier in the cell, with a red-hot inching knife thrust up through the coals. He followed Nanon down the stone incline, as quietly as possible and chancing glances behind to check the wind claws had not seen them. The sounds of exertion grew louder as they reached the barred window and crouched down on either side of the trough.

Within was the assassin, naked and bleeding, with gritted teeth and his body covered in sweat . He was still in the metal inching chair, though the bloodied stump of his left arm was now free. Rham Jas had deliberately dislocated his shoulder in order to wriggle out of the restraint. His face was a mask of agony, but Dalian detected anger as well. He had half his forearm still intact, but his hand and wrist were in a small bloody pile on the floor.