Kam peered inside. There was a lamp on the table in the centre of the room, illuminating a woman clad in a long cloak, her hood still raised, seated by a small black stove, and a few stacked boxes. The warmth from the stove made him ache to go straight in, but he was careful to take a second good look round the room first. When they did enter the man lost no time in closing the door behind them.

  He gestured towards the boxes. 'Sit.'

  Kam froze at the change in the man's voice; the polite veneer had fallen away; now he was unmistakeably a nobleman used to having his orders obeyed instantly.

  And what's changed? Just the woman – and a dog wants to perform well in front of its mistress. Interesting. He looked at his companion and they sank down onto the boxes as ordered. The nobleman stood at the door with his hand on his sword, and that told Kam what he needed to know. Dog's on guard now, but who uses a nobleman as messenger boy? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

  'Jendel Kam and Litt Boren, my Lady.'

  'Gentlemen,' the woman began, 'please don't be alarmed by the theatrics.' Her face was in darkness, carefully hidden from the lamp's light.

  'Why not?' Kam replied gruffly, ignoring the slight shift of feet from the door. He wrinkled his scarred nose; the lady's scent mingled incongruously with stale sweat and old pipe smoke. 'Don't get me wrong; I don't want trouble, but I don't like it when I can't see the face of the person I'm talking to, and that goes double when I don't know why I'm sneaking around a strange city at night.'

  'Perfectly understandable,' she replied smoothly, but she made no move to reveal her identity. 'You're here because you were given money to be here, and because you were promised a job.'

  'That's right enough, and so what I want to know is what sort of job this is,' Kam said equably. 'We're not mercenaries, nor thieves or assassins, so why come to us?'

  'Because I do have a job for you, and it's one only a fool would take.'

  'Calling us fools?' Boren growled, until Kam put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder.

  'So what sort of fool you looking for?' Kam asked.

  'What use does anyone have for a fool?'

  Kam resisted the urge to scowl himself. What he hated most about nobles was the way they kept their voices level, emotionless; those practised tones they used to hide whatever they were thinking. It made them sound infuriatingly arrogant, whether they intended that or not. 'So what're you looking for?' he repeated.

  'Men with reason enough to act the fool,' she said.

  'Enough of this, can you not just say it plain?'

  The woman turned slightly towards the man at the door. Something passed between them, Kam had no idea what, but she slipped off her hood to reveal the face of a middle-aged woman with deep lines around her eyes. Her hair was cut short and her only concession to jewellery was a milky pearl pendant on a thick silver chain. Around her throat was tied a red ribbon of mourning.

  'I hope you'll forgive me if I spend a little time gauging the sort of men I'm talking to before revealing all my secrets,' she said quietly.

  Kam blinked in surprise. Her voice was strained; in her reproach he detected the waver of someone so close to the end of their tether that not even years of upbringing could mask all emotion.

  'That's fair,' he replied quickly, 'but we ain't got the advantage here. I'm guessing you know our names and where we come from and – now I don't mean to offend, just bein' honest – compared to us you're a powerful woman, so there's an unspoken threat there in that alone.'

  'You think I've brought you here to threaten you?'

  'No, but it's there all the same.' Kam raised a placating hand. 'I'm just stating how I see the Land; I'm poor and you're not. If you have a job for me, there's risk involved and you're willing to pay for that, but you're not looking to be refused.'

  'I hope my information about you would be more accurate than that,' she said, keeping her proud nose raised for a few more moments before the effort defeated her and she seemed to sag in her seat. 'I acknowledge what you say as the truth, though I didn't want to go so far as describe it that way. You're right, I cannot afford for you to refuse me, and I have associates willing to retaliate if anything should happen to me.' Her tired eyes flicked up again. 'But I hope it will not come to that, so let me lay my offer before you: twenty gold crowns for each of you and your men, in addition to an assurance that every village they are drawn from will receive increased protection for the foreseeable future.'

  Kam didn't trust himself to reply immediately. The fee was immense – no one in his village could hope to earn twenty gold crowns in a year – but it was her last statement that clinched it. Whatever his objections, they would all take the job. Protection for the village was something they couldn't easily buy with gold, especially since there would be questions about how they obtained so much money.

  'Crowns are no use to us; commoners don't get paid in gold, only thieves,' Boren pointed out, voicing one of Kam's concerns.

  She smiled wryly; that was the least of the problems. 'So let us say four hundred silver crescents then.'

  Kam nodded. 'That'll do. But for that sort of money there's a good chance we all die, and money don't help my family if it's taken off my corpse.'

  'I will send a man to replace one in your group, a vassal of mine. You can send your man back with whatever money you wish, and my associate here will deliver whatever's left. But send any young men amongst you home; this is not a job for the young.'

  Again Kam heard the emotion in her voice, and he suddenly realised her words struck to the heart of the matter. Oh Qods, could this be who 1 think it is?

  'Still don't want to be a corpse, rich one or not,' Kam said, Boren nodding sternly alongside him.

  'I understand that,' the lady said, 'and yet I expect many, if not all of you, to die before the job is over.'

  'What sort of offer is that?' spluttered Boren, looking about to rise and walk out until Kam eased his bristle-haired friend back onto his box.

  'I think I understand,' Kam said slowly, 'but how can we trust you in this? There's no reason for you to let any of us live, or for you to contact our villages ever again once we're dead. If your friend delivers the money there's a trail back to you, and that's something you can't afford.'

  'How can you trust me? You can't, I suppose, but I think you know how you can believe I'll keep to my word on this.' She sighed. 'You've guessed who I am, and that trail you spoke of hardly matters now.'

  Ignoring Boren's puzzled expression, Kam thought for a while, trying to piece everything together in his mind. He controlled the sudden surge of revulsion he felt in his heart.

  'With due apologies, folk aren't saying good things about you;' he pointed out. 'Your word might yet be worth nothing.'

  Not saying good things? the voice of his younger self screamed in his mind, you fucking bitch-whore traitor, you want to drag me down with you, have my name cursed alongside yours, maybe even send me to the Dark Place to see what welcome awaits you?

  He said nothing more, but both his fists were clenched tight, as though desperately fighting the urge to pull his knife.

  Poor 1 might be, traitor I'm damn well not… And yet…

  And yet I've got a family and barely enough to feed them through the winter, and there are rumours of more Elven attacks when the summer comes. We barely survived last time; those army outriders almost caught us last winter. If it hadn't been for Boren's boy chasing after that fool dog we'd not have had any warning-

  'Well, I don't know who you are,' Boren said, breaking into Kam's bitter memories of the previous winter. 'How about you let me know so I can be in on this deal too?'

  She raised her chin and said, 'I am the Dowager Duchess of Lomin.'

  Boren managed to cut off his hiss of surprise. Now he had to shut up. He and Kam had been friends their whole lives and Boren knew that he could trust Kam's sense better than his own temper. He folded his arms over his chest and lowered his head, a sign Kam knew well meant Boren was aware he'd regret the next words that came out his mouth.

  'I'm guessing there's only one thing that you'd want from us, but I don't see how we'd break your son out of prison. There's twenty of us, and I doubt the Lord Isak is giving your son many noble privileges. If he's in the city gaol, there's more than three times our number of regular guards, and if he's in the palace cells then there's an entire legion of Ghosts in the way.' Kam leaned forward, his box creaking. 'I'm sorry, my Lady, but I don't see what you're expecting of us.'

  'You are correct that my son is being kept in squalor at the palace,' she said, 'but his trial will either be a civil affair, in which case it will take place at the Temple of Law on Irienn Square, or if the Synod's efforts to take over the trial prove successful, in a place yet to be designated – however, I do not believe that will happen. The man I will send to you tomorrow will bring the architectural plans for the Temple of Law, which is where I am sure my son will be transferred for the trial.'

  'So Duke Certinse is out the palace, but that doesn't help us. You could send us a full company of hurscals and we'd still be outnumbered by the Ghosts guarding him. So I ask again: what is it you want?'

  Kam saw her lip waver briefly, and she fought to compose herself.

  He's her only child, and that's the reason her promise means a damn; whatever they say about her can still be true; it doesn't change the fact that she loves her only son more'n anything else in the Land.

  'What I want from you,' she said in a carefully measured tone, 'is whatever you can do to help. If there is a chance to break my son out, I will have men with horses waiting, and I will devote the remains of my fortune to helping you and your families. Whatever the outcome, my associate here will not be involved; he will return to Siul, where he will organise the troops to protect your villages. He will also pass on the promised payment.'

  'You can't really believe there's much chance of breaking your son out?' Kam asked, and immediately regretted his words as the long-threatened tears finally spilled from the duchess's eyes.

  'You have no need to remind me of that,' she said after a moment, regaining her composure. 'But you will permit me to hope against hope? It is all I have left now.' She straightened up, but made no attempt to wipe the tears from her face. 'There is another service you can do him, though.'

  'There is? ' Kam looked blank, until he remembered the only public execution he'd ever seen. 'Oh, yes, I see what you mean.'

  'It is what I want,' the duchess said in a stiff voice. 'That white-eye filth intends to execute my son as a traitor. The trial will be a sham, for the conclusion is already set. I do not know what manner of execution Lord Isak intends, but I am certain there is no depravity beneath him. To speak plainly, as you desire, I say this: I will do what I can for your families, if you will do the same for mine. If all I can give to my son is his dignity in death, then I would be glad to deny Lord Isak this final cruelty after the sacking of our home, the destruction of our family name and the death of my brother, among many other crimes.

  'I chose you precisely because you are not mercenaries or assassins. I do not expect anyone to get out of there alive, and that will be their mistake: they will not be expecting anyone to act without care of the consequences. I know you have no wish to die; I believe you to be good men, honourable men. And for the sake of your families I believe you will take this terrible risk and I say to you now, if you die failing, it will not affect the payment…' Her voice tailed off.

  Kam found himself holding his breath until she spoke again, this time with a resonance that struck at his heart.

  'You are the sort of men who will risk all for your families, and in this I do not believe we are so different. I will do whatever I can to provide a diversion. And if by my own death I can offer one of you the chance to survive to see their children again, I will willingly do so.'

  'They say you're a mage, that you've made pacts with daemons,' Boren whispered, causing Kam to jump at the sound.

  The duchess shook her head, sadness in her face rather than the anger Kam would have expected. 'I have no such power, and those mages in our service are now dead. I do have something that may provide the necessary distraction, but I cannot be certain how well it will work, so it may be that revealing my identity is all that I can offer. Do not trust that it will do any more than turn heads for a moment.'

  Kam looked at Boren, whose anger had clearly faded to nothing now, and stood.

  'I'll have to discuss this with the others. When your man finds us tomorrow, you will have vour answer.'

  'Thank you,' she said, her voice sounding hollow. 'Once I would have said you will be in my prayers forever, but I have none of those left. You are my final prayer – I cannot stomach any more begging of Gods who have obviously never cared for me – but perhaps the Lady will look kindly upon you and grant you luck, for one day at least.'

  CHAPTER 6

  Ashin Doranei thought hard about turning round in his seat and glaring at whoever was smoking that heavily spiced tobacco; it had been tickling the back of his throat for an hour or more and it was really starting to annoy him. After a few moments' thought he decided against it – chances were he'd just fall off his stool if he tried anything so acrobatic.

  Standing up first was an option, but if he had any money he wouldn't have bet himself he'd be able to manage it.

  Hah, don't bet for money no more, he said to himself, got more fun stuff than that t'do. He flapped weakly at his pockets for a moment. Somewhere he had a couple of wyvern claws, winnings from the last bet he'd made with his comrades.

  Bastards let me kill it first, that's not agains' the rules? There're rules for us? There're rules for men like me?

  'So where's the love of my life then?' said a woman from the other side of the bar.

  Doranei wavered a moment before adjusting his head enough to look her in the face.

  Bugger me… looks lot like a woman 1 shagged.

  Doranei let his head sink down again and tightened his grip on his drink.

  Prob'ly not a surprise, fanna does work here. Unless…

  With painstakingly slowness a thought struck him and with great difficultly Doranei turned his head again, this time to look down the length of the bar.

  Shit. Must've forgotten to leave the Light Fingers. Why th' hell would I sit in this dump so long?

  Another tankard of beer slammed down on the bar top in front of him.

  Ah,. Doranei's battered face skewed into a lopsided grin as he reached for the tankard. That's why.

  'Still awake, there? Where's your Brother then, m'lovely?' The woman spoke slowly and precisely.

  M'lovely. Qods 1 hated bein' called that-that why I stopped shagging her? A fitful burst of activity took place in Doranei's memory.

  Or was it 'cos I said she smelled like a mule ar' she kicked my balls up into my guts? He nodded sagely and Janna snorted in irritation.

  'Still playin' the mystery then? Fine, piss on you. Let's see if you're drunk enough for me to nick one of those posh cigars you're smokin' these days.'

  Janna reached forward, a little hesitantly at first, until she was convinced Doranei wasn't reacting at all, at which point she gave a toothy grin and slipped a practised hand inside his tunic to retrieve a silver cigar case. 'Well ain't that lovely,' she said chattily. 'It's got a bee on it and everythin'-' She stopped, the amusement suddenly falling from her face. 'Gods, your boss give you this?'

  Doranei stared down at the bar for a while, then tried to reach for his pocket. He got his hand in there on the second attempt.

  Cigar case's gone. Bugger. That supposed to happen here? Someone nickin' from me in a Brotherhood pub? Bloody stupid, that.

  Janna pulled out a cigar and set the case on the bar, lighting her plunder from a lamp and puffing hard until it was properly lit. Then she returned the case to Doranei's pocket and set her elbows on the bar so her face was only a few inches from his.

  'Now then, m'lovely, where's your boy Sebe? Next time you see 'im, tell 'im I've missed 'im and all 'is lovely scars. Gods, you should've 'eard me scream when I saw 'im bald as a fucking baby last week! Scary bloody baby, but never mind, I love 'im anyway. But I said to 'im, m'lovely, "I've got nothin' to 'old onto", I said, and you know 'ow much I like doin' that!' Janna gave a cackle that momentarily quietened the rest of the pub.

  Janna. Girl 's got good punch on her, Doranei though dreamily, lifting his beer and drinking automatically. Foor Sebe, boy's smitten. Mind you, good punch is somethin' to respect, an' that smile lights up th' whole bloody room. She'll be a terror once he gets the guts to marry her, but she'll treat him right. Randy li'l fucker knows how to stay on her good side.

  'So what were the women in Scree like, eh?' Janna continued in a conspiratorial voice, undeterred by the lack of response.

  'Lookers? Bet they're an ugly lot, all black-haired Farlan bastard stock ain't they?'

  'Women?' said Doranei suddenly, as though only now waking from a dream.

  'Fuck me, it lives,' Janna chuckled. 'Now that's an interesting thing, 'e don't pay a blind bloody bit of notice until I bring up the subject of skirt!'

  She reached out and patted his cheek. 'Doranei, m'lovely, am I to think you're finally past pining for me and 'ave got yourself a lady, or did you just meet a whore even better than me?'

  Doranei took another swig of beer and let the words slowly settle into an order he could understand.

  Women.

  Pining.

  Lady.

  A vision of the three women he'd seen most often in Scree appeared in his mind: Haipar the shapeshifter, Legana, the Farlan assassin, and of course Princess Zhia Vukotic, vampire, and enemy of the Gods.

  'Bloody scary,' he announced finally.

  Janna laughed. 'Fuck me, that ugly, eh?'

  Doranei thought a little longer. Eventually he shook his head hard. 'Not ugly, beautiful,' he said once he'd regained his balance. He clutched the bar for support.

 

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