Читать книгу The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1 - Андрей Кочетков - Страница 10

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Of course it is.”

The two friends had stopped by the same place many days in a row, but only now was their persistence rewarded.

“I remember his face,” drawled Sorgius, rubbing his fingertips together comically. “Look at him smiling like a reflection in a bad mirror!”

The face of the dandy in a purple robe with gold embroidery who sat two tables away from them really did look like a flattened reflection in a crude mirror, the kind made by Torgendam craftsmen trying to imitate the work of masters from Capotia or the Empire’s central provinces. The effect was intensified by his hair, which was swept up and back in the latest style.

“I bet that haystack would burn if we touched a spark to it,” sniggered Sorgius.

“Only if absolutely necessary,” Vordius replied. “Here I go.”

“Patience, brother,” Sorgius stopped him. “Talking is my specialty. Sit still and watch the expert at work!”

Song of the Star had a dubious reputation among Enteveria’s taverns, and not just because it was frequented by people who earned their living by the knife. In the many years since the popular tavern had opened, no one had ever figured out what drew people to it: the food, the drink, the dancing, the easy women, or the wafting scent of aromatic weeds being smoked? At Song of the Star, family men and their wives sat next to arrogant toughs from the port discussing business affairs that lay most decidedly outside the law, all to the vulgar laughter of courtesans with kohled eyes and rouged cheeks. In this atmosphere, strangers often found themselves on friendly terms, and Sorgius used that fact to his advantage as he moved in on his target.

“Hello, old friend! You haven’t been here in ages. What are you drinking?” He eyed the man’s cup. “Never mind.” He caught the eye of a server and gestured confidently. “Waiter! Bring us a jug of Tasquilian dry!” And then, with a grin, he turned back to the stranger, who was now on his guard. “No worries, it’s on me.” The two young women who had been sitting with the man smiled brightly at Sorgius and waited to see what would happen next.

“I want to drink the health of these lovely ladies, so we must have the best wine!” he announced to his new friends. Two of the three smiled.

“Tasquilian is worth the money,” the man drawled as he put an arm around each young woman, “but we prefer dark Vuravian grapes.”

“Of course, I remember,” Sorgius leaned back in his chair, looking delighted. “You drank something like that two weeks ago. That was the time you were here with that little redhead. The one that came over and joined me later.” There was steel in his smile now.

“What little redhead? Asked the woman on the left. Her voice was deep and impressive, like her cleavage.

“I have no idea what he’s going on about,” the dandy tried to look indifferent. He attempted to change the subject back to wine. “I’m surprised you like Tasquilian. It knocks you off your feet.”

The young women laughed again, but this time awkwardly.

“Don’t you remember?” Sorgius pressed on, crossing his legs and staring down his adversary. “Her name was Fenia. Or was it Fellia? She told me all kinds of things about you. For example…”

“That’s enough!” cried his victim. “We weren’t bothering you. Why don’t you find another table? There are plenty of empty ones.”

“Oh, don’t get all riled up. I just want the address of that little redhead. She got me three sheets to the wind that night and then up and disappeared before I could get to know her better. You understand!”

“I don’t know any redheads!” the dandy insisted. He turned to his companions, “Don’t listen to him – he’s drunk!” Then he leaped up from his chair and quickly made for the exit.

“My goodness,” Sorgius raised his eyebrows. “How long has he been having these fits?” The young women glanced at each other, at a loss for words.

“Here you are again, fooling around with the women while your whole purpose goes up in smoke,” someone hissed in his right ear. “Just keep sitting there, big professional!” It was Vordius. As soon as he spoke, he was gone.

Sorgius pushed his chair back. “Ladies, this will just take a minute!” he tossed over his shoulder as he raced after his friend.

The two women cried foul. “You forgot to pay!” It was their first attempt at hunting for fat wallets among the ladies’ men of Enteveria, and they ended up having to pay out of their own thin purses for a jug of the most expensive wine in the house.

* * *

“Keep up with him no matter what, even if he notices you. When he turns around, wave at him friendly-like. I’ll be on the other side of the street…”

Sorgius looked doubtful. “What if he gets in a carriage and drives off?”

But they were in luck. The dandy passed by the waiting carriages and hurried down the Avenue of Twelve Virtues, trying unsuccessfully to melt into the crowd. He turned around frequently to see if he was being followed, and soon caught sight of Sorgius. This sent him skittering into a side street. Sorgius ran after him.

Again, he was in luck. The narrow lane was lined by high fences, and when the dandy finally found a gap and tried to slip through it, he ran right into a hulk of a man who threw him easily against the fence on his right.

“Watch out, Sorgius!” Vordius called to his friend.

His shoulder bruised, the dandy sized up the situation and pulled out a short dagger.

“Stay back or I’ll draw blood!” he said hoarsely, his eyes darting from one to the other.

“What is that you’re holding?” Vordius asked, hands on hips. “Civilians in the Empire are prohibited from carrying weapons of war…”

“Let me go!” screeched their victim, waving the dagger.

“…and I’m going to have to confiscate that from you,” the Imperial Guard finished his sentence.

He leaped smoothly to one side, tossing his cape over the dandy’s head and easily knocking his feet out from under him.

He picked up the knife while the dandy writhed in pain. “This isn’t good for much more than peeling apples, but you could put your eye out with it.” He stooped and retrieved his cape. “Now, what’s your name?”

“Sermey,” the dandy whispered. “Senius Sermey. I have money,” he touched his belt. “Just let me go!”

“Money is nice,” Vordius smiled, “but that’s not what I need from you.”

Sermey’s eyes were as round as plates as he imagined all sorts of unpleasant things.

“What I need is information,” Vordius continued in a conciliatory voice. “Now tell me, Senius Sermey, have you ever tasted a human eye?”

Poor Sermey’s heart was racing so hard that it almost broke through his chest.

“I see that you haven’t,” Vordius smiled and looked around in a stagey manner, as if to assure himself that they were still alone. “But there’s a first time for everything. There is a cocktail called Eyeball. You take an eye – yours, for example,” and he gestured with the knife, causing his victim to flinch. “You add two egg yolks, white wine, and a little salt. Do you know what you end up with?” he suddenly roared right in Sermey’s face. The man shook. His face was wet with tears, and the ground under him was wet with something else entirely.

“You end up with something really stupid!” he spat in the man’s face. “Because a nice young man like yourself ends up missing an eye. And why?” he asked, turning to Sorgius with a predatory smile. “Because he was too stupid to tell to fine, upstanding men the name of his girlfriend.” He paused. “She’s about five fens tall, red hair, green eyes, and she has a mole on her left cheek.” Each word hit Sermey right between the eyes.

“No, no!” he cried, his nose running. “She doesn’t have a mole. I swear it by the life-giving power of the Sun!”

“No mole?” Vordius repeated joyfully. “Then give me her name, where she lives, and her parents’ names. Slowly and clearly!”

Sermey wiped his face. “Her name is Fenia Brazelo. That was the only time I laid eyes on her, I swear!”

“That’s too bad. I’m sorry for you,” Vordius sighed. “Your choice. Left or right?”

“No, don’t! I beg you! May the Darkness take me if I’m lying!” Sermey was already foaming at the mouth. “The barber Taney brought her to the Fish that night. Ask him about her!”

“Who is this barber?”

“You don’t know Master Taney? He cuts the hair of many upstanding men,” the dandy tried timidly to gain ground.

“I don’t have to know him if you do.” Vordius chuckled. “Tell him I’ll be waiting for him today when the Heavenly Deity sinks to its outermost palace. I’ll be in the Ravine of Divine Song, just a few steps south of the Old Grotto. Tell him he’s mixed up in an attempt to assassinate an important member of the government. If he declines to spend an evening with me, he’ll spend the next few years in prison. The one we call Heavenly Submission!”

“I will tell him,” Sermey stuttered. “I’ll go right now.”

He stood and righted his dirty robe.

Sorgius turned to his friend with wide eyes. “I’m beginning to be afraid of you sometimes. This man is a nobody, but you worked him over like he was a black-hearted villain!”

“May I have my knife back?” Sermey piped up.

“Of course,” Vordius bowed. “I’ll lay it in your cold hands at your funeral. Now,” he barked, “get moving, scum! Or else this dagger will play havoc with your eyes…”“He’ll be here,” Vordius sneered.

The ravine was an excellent place to watch the sunset, but the friends had more important things on their minds. As always, Sorgius had studied the situation from all angles and chosen the least pleasant possibility to discuss in an attempt to rile his friend.

“We should have gone to his house…”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out, Sorgius! The dandy with the funny hair ran off as soon as you mentioned the girl, and that means he could smell his bacon frying!”

“I know that,” Sorgius sighed and scratched at a spot on his chin he had missed while shaving. “I’m worried about who the girl is. She didn’t look like a courtesan, and you can trust my experience on that!”

Vordius slapped his shoulder. “You certainly had time to look her over!”

“You can laugh if you like, but I didn’t.”

“What? Do you mean to say…”

“I do. Everything went just as I told Sermey and his girlfriends back at the Song of the Star. It was the first time in my life I felt used by a woman, if you can imagine.”

Vordius shook his head. “Well, you can cry about it if you want, but you’ll have another chance to win her heart once we find her.”

“How kind of you!” Sorgius turned his head to look up the path. “I’ll let you talk to the scissors man on your own. I don’t like watching you torture people!”

“Fine, if you’re that soft. Go sit in the bushes and wait until I call for you. Did you remember to bring what I asked for?”

“I most certainly did,” Sorgius threw a canvas sack over one shoulder and walked off into the underbrush.

Vordius stretched, rolled his shoulders, and strolled out from under the trees onto a bare patch of ground. Many years ago, before the opening of Enteveria’s central park, this place had been a popular spot for evening entertainment. Now, it looked wild and empty. When the young guard heard footsteps, he closed his eyes. “A man. Weighs about two hundred and fifty baklas. Short and stocky.” When he opened his eyes again, he was pleased to see that he had been right. All his eyes could add was the fact that the man was bald and wore a thin, black moustache with an unpleasant smile under it.

“A bald barber,” Vordius said. He scratched his head and returned the unpleasant smile with one of his own. “Just like a shoemaker with no shoes.”

The new arrival walked up and showed his teeth. “So you’re the handsome fellow that scared my friend half to death? That was a bad business. A very bad business. I hear you love the ladies. Redheads. Is that right?”

“They’ll soon be teaching you about love in prison. My name is Vordius Onato, and I’m a nicor in the Imperial Guards. Here is my badge. I’m investigating the attempted assassination of a high-level civil servant. We believe the redheaded girl had something to do with it. You have a choice. You can tell what you know about her to me, here and now, or you can tell it to the inspectors at Heavenly Submission tonight.”

Taney’s ugly smile turned really foul. His pig-like eyes were defiant, and his tiny mouth disappeared in the fat rolls of his chin.

“Boss, I’m as clean as a prison bowl after breakfast. I had nothing to do with it.”

“We’ll find out just how clean you are, you can be sure of that,” Vordius grumbled, cracking his knuckles.

“I’ll be happy to prove it,” Taney said sweetly. “I have a whole crowd of witnesses, and they can’t wait to tell you how innocent I am.”

The back of Vordius’ head went cold. Seven men suddenly stepped out from under the trees, and it didn’t take more than a glance to see that they were riffraff, young men from poor families who had willingly chosen a life of causing bodily harm to others.

“Let me introduce you to my apprentices,” Taney said. “They help me with my toughest customers.”

The young men nodded.

“Boys, this honorable Enel from the guards of our most beloved Great Lord Kergenius has asked us to render him services at home.”

The thugs laughed and made a circle around Vordius.

“Why at home, Enel? We can render you services right here. Snip-snip and you’re all done,” growled a man with a red beard and a fat nose as he drew a dagger.

Vordius didn’t move a muscle, but he was wound tight as a spring inside. He needed to do something and quick. He couldn’t take on the whole gang by himself.

While he was thinking, Taney stepped up and looked at his belt. “Look at what we have here! A sword. Just the thing for cutting hair. Enel Onato, will you allow a humble barber to demonstrate his arts?”

Without waiting for a response, Taney slowly put his hand on the hilt. The gesture violated everything Vordius believed about proper behavior, and there was only one possible reaction. He grabbed the man’s fat hand and twisted it hard. Taney cried out and fell to one knee. In an instant, one of the apprentices grabbed Vordius by the hair while another – a small hoodlum with a Capotian face – knocked his feet out from under him. Taney stood up, a shining razor in his hand. The phony smile was gone, replaced by an expression that boded ill for Vordius.

“Hold him while I give the Enel an intimate haircut!”

Vordius tried to hit the man behind him with his head, but he was held too tight. He was stronger than most men, but Taney’s apprentices were professional criminals who knew exactly what they were doing. His body was wet with sweat, but his mouth was dry, with a metallic taste. Is this really the end? flashed through his mind.

The man with the red beard gestured with his knife again, and the others laughed. Master Taney stepped aside, and his place was taken by giant of a man with a hunched back who grabbed Vordius’ belt with a hairy fist.

All of a sudden, there was a snapping sound in the bushes, like the sound of someone beating a carpet. The thugs let go of Vordius. The bearded man grabbed his buttocks and let out an awful cry, and the giant groaned. He turned and retreated with a limp. The small Capotian got the worst of it: a bolt no more than two hands long pierced both of his cheeks at once with striking accuracy.

Taney leaped toward the trees and crouched down. He looked around, trying to ascertain the direction of the attack. Vordius’ hobnailed boot made contact with his sweaty face. The barber fell back, dropped his razor and began to yell, his mouth spouting blood.

He must have bitten through his tongue, Vordius laughed to himself. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and barked at the unfortunate riffraff, “Put your knives on the ground and hands in the air! Take five steps back! Now lie down on the ground!”

This highly unusual turn of events had evidently hypnotized the thugs’ meager brains. Like sleepwalkers, they followed the orders of the man whom, minutes before, they had been intending to torture with the cruelty that was characteristic of the capital city’s underclasses.

“You fools, did you think I would come alone?” Vordius worked himself up, his fear turning into anger. “Who did you dare raise your hands against? I have a bowman behind every tree. One move and you’ll all look like pincushions, you lousy wretches!”

The ruffians lay quietly, their bodies flat to the ground. Taney shoved a corner of the fancy robe he wore into his bleeding mouth. He was in no condition to talk. Vordius walked down the line of hostages and put his boot on the head of a young ruffian with a shock of dark hair and a face that was too tender for his line of work. His check pressed into the clay, the boy squinted his eyes shut.

“You raised your hand against an officer in the Imperial Guards,” Vordius informed him. “Do you know what the punishment for that is? They’ll burn your eyes out with mirrors, char your skin off and throw you in a cesspool, where you’ll howl in agony until you die. Attempting to harm one of the Emperor’s guards is the same as raising a hand against the Great Lord himself, may the Heavenly Deity preserve him for ages!”

Shaking, the boy bleated out, “Enel officer, we never would have harmed a hair on your head! It was a stupid joke, nothing more! Take pity on us and we’ll do anything you ask!”

“What can you do for me, swine? You’re about as useful as a candle on a bright summer day! I’ll turn you over to the Guards and take my reward!” He turned back to the tress. “Hey, Svenius! Inpato! Bring the ropes!”

“Enel nicor!” came a deep voice to his left. “We know how it is. You want that girl. The redhead. We can help you out…”

“Speak for yourself, Bergius,” hissed a young ruffian in a leather tunic and braided leggings. “You’re the one Asp will cut into tiny pieces. Not the rest of us.”

“Not so, Nicius,” said the deep voice. “You’re all in it now.” The speaker was a young man with a simple, round face, low forehead and prominent cheekbones. He looked like a peasant. “I’d rather spend the rest of my life back in my village in Semeria than get fried alive because of some stupid business of that fat Taney!”

“Stop chattering!” Vordius cried. “I want her name, where she lives, and who her family is. Tell me everything you know, or I swear by my honor I will personally deliver you to the Heavenly Throne’s jailers!”

“We don’t know those things, Enel nicor,” the young man with the peasant face said apologetically.

“I don’t believe you!” Vordius hissed. He reached for the hilt of his sword.

“May the Heavenly Deity burn me from head to foot, I don’t know what you are asking!” The peasant was calm and sober, like a man who has accepted a twist of fate and is making the best of it. “We are little people. You need to find Fire Asp. In the port, not even the mice leave droppings without his permission. That’s the truth.”

“Fire Asp?” Vordius laughed. “Is that his name? And where would I find him?”

“Fire Asp is everywhere and nowhere,” growled the man in the leather tunic.

“Speak up!” Vordius turned to him.

The peasant spoke for him. “There’s a house-boat restaurant in the port called Lotus Petals. Taney is supposed to meet someone there tomorrow, at the beginning of the second watch. I’ve heard talk that Asp will be there, too.”

Vordius turned to the barber, who was moaning, his robe black with blood.

“Taney has more important things to worry about now,” he said. He eyed them all. “Think of it this way: you just made the best bargain of your lives. But this is no pardon. It’s a head start. I’m on your tails, and so is that Asp. So take your cripple and his tongue,” he speared the bloody piece of meat with the tip of his sword and held it out to the talkative ruffian, “and get the Shadows out of the city.”

Without waiting for further explanation, the apprentices picked up their master and hobbled away as fast as they could. Vordius put his sword away and sighed – he hadn’t gotten to use it for its intended purpose. Despite all his bravado, it had been his first truly difficult fight.

When he caught sight of Sorgius crawling out of the bushes, he did his best to hide how worried he had been. “What was that you were shooting?” he asked.

His friend smiled proudly and held out a strange device.

“Let me see that!” Vordius took it in both hands. “A Capotian multi-shooter? These are toys! I remember when some merchants tried to sell us some of these. The bolts barely pierce canvas. I’d rather spit toothpicks!” he laughed.

“There’s an idea,” Sorgius said, raising a finger. “I’ve been trying to come up with a name for it, and I think ‘Spitter’ is just the thing!”

Vordius made a face. “I suppose they’re fine for use in the city, especially at close range.” He turned the device over in his hands. “Where did you get it?”

“My Uncle Rikso brought it back from the homeland.”

“He brought it back, did he?” Vordius raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you know this thing is contraband.”

“I do know,” Sorgius replied, “and I also know that it saved your life.”

“What does this toy have to do with it? It was all you and your timing. I thought you’d gotten scared and run off, but you were right to wait for the perfect moment. You have no idea how happy I was to hear those bolts coming! Although, I guess I could have handled them on my own – just a bunch of rabble from the port!”

“You’re wrong about that, Vordius,” Sorgius objected, looking hurt. He took back the multi-shooter.

“Don’t get all puffed up like a Mustobrim serpent!” the guardsman said and put an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “We’re working together. Risking our lives for Uni! Have you heard anything about this Fire Asp they were talking about?”

“Of course I have!” Sorgius cut him off. He looked away so that Vordius wouldn’t see that his eyes were shining traitorously. He had known since they were boys that Vordius was vain about his strength, and he had always ignored that vanity because his friend had so many other positive qualities. Still, it stung to have his role in defeating the ruffians ignored.

“Well?” Vordius prodded him as they made their way out of the ravine together.

“What do you want to know?” Sorgius shrugged. “Everyone has heard of him, but I don’t know anyone who has seen him. Just imagine,” he warmed to his subject, “in just a year this Asp person managed to kick all the Iristenians out of the port, put down the local gangs and made it clear to everyone who was left just how much of the pie they could expect to get. All of this, and nobody knows where he came from!”

“What are people saying?” Vordius was intrigued. “Are there any clues?”

They were taking the long way out, stepping over toothy ferns and cracking branches under their boots. The sun was suspended right above the horizon, and its last rays penetrated the crowns of the trees growing in the ravine.

“I’ve heard people say he’s about thirty years old, barrel-chested, so tall he can barely walk through a doorway, and with a voice like a trumpet!” Sorgius shook his head. “But others say he’s this tiny old man with a beard that almost touches the ground, but his eye is so sharp that if he looks at you, you freeze! But yet others say…”

“I see,” Vordius interrupted. “All fables. We have to find a man that no one has seen!” He was silent for a moment. Then he put his hand on Sorgius’ shoulder. “What fools they were to attack an officer in the Imperial Guards. I’d like to know what herbs give a man that kind of courage!” He shook his head, “No, I don’t like the looks of this at all!”

“The port has laws of its own,” Sorgius said. “I know of several attempts to clean up the corruption down there, but none of them worked out. When the Solar Sentinels make an appearance down there, it’s just that – an appearance. Here’s what I think,” he squinted. “Whoever runs the port is paying sizeable bribes to the city government. What I’d really like to know is how Asp and Fenia are connected,” he said, shrugging out from under his friend’s heavy hand.

“Do you think she’s employed by him?”

“Who knows? Asp carries a lot of weight in the port, but I think our friend back there was exaggerating about the mice. There’s no proof that the girl is from the port.”

“True,” Vordius replied. “So why are we looking for her there?”

“Because, my helmet-headed friend, we don’t have anything else to go on,” Sorgius scored a point. “If you have any other ideas…”

“Ideas? I can’t begin to imagine how we’ll stick our heads in that louse-infested den. We can’t just walk into the Lotus and ask for Fire Asp!”

“You astound me!” Sorgius cried. “I was sure you would say we should run in, tie everyone up, and start serving eyeball desserts!”

Vordius blushed. “I can’t do that and you well know it. If my superiors find out what I’m doing, they’ll feed me to the pigs!”

“Exactly! You’re starting to show some common sense. You have a good career and a lovely fiancée. One wrong move and you’ll throw it all away!”

“If you’re scared to keep up the search, just tell me. I’ll do it on my own,” Vordius growled.

“I’ve no doubt of that. I can just imagine how you’ll go about it,” Sorgius snickered.

“Enough of that, fool. Tell me what you have in mind.”

“Don’t rush the wagon. It’s a slow wagon, but it will arrive on time because it’s carrying something very valuable! Now listen,” he lowered his voice. “And stop calling me names. Your Uncle Sorgius has an idea on how to get through the fog without falling into the chasm!”

* * *

Enteveria’s northern river port was used almost exclusively for the government’s ships, but its southern river port handled all the private merchant trade for the enormous city. Because of its connections with the Empire’s far-flung trading partners, the southern port district was inhabited by people from all over the world, as if it were a magical portal opening into all the cities of the Empire and beyond. The sounds and smells of its streets were so different from those in other parts of the city that wise men were of the opinion that the port district was the remains of a settlement that had existed long before Enteveria, perhaps even the remains of an ancient community of Nigmays who had lived in these parts even before the Herandians. The port’s residents, whose ethnic makeup could have served as a geography lesson covering all of Dashtornis, had little interest in such theories. Unlike the wise men of the Imperial Academy, the people in the port were engaged in work of a more practical nature: they loaded and unloaded ships, traded in everything that was prohibited from the central market, made money catering to all kinds of human vices and engaged in associated criminal activity.

People with upstanding morals and respectable lifestyles almost never visited the southern river port. It would be tempting to make an exception for merchants and their salespeople, but in truth, the men of those professions are not guaranteed to always be moral or respectable.

The same could be said of two men that were now making their way through the crowd at the port. Even the most distracted observer would have seen right away which of the men was in charge and which was there to offer protection. The shorter of the two men was dressed in a gold-embroidered cape of fine Ulinian silk and wide rub-red southern style pants (to be specific, they were exactly the color of costly Arincilian gagawa juice). His tunic, stretched tight across his belly, was encrusted with pearls, and his crocodile leather shoes were ready to convince anyone who doubted their owner’s wealth. A pointed cap sat atop a head that was going bald young, and his shaven cheeks oozed with the lazy hauteur that earned the Vuravians so much dislike throughout the Empire.

His companion was much taller and dressed in a Torgendam deerskin tunic that stretched tight across his powerful back and revealed the rock-like muscles of his arms. His face betrayed his roots in the Empire’s heartland, with an oval face, dark, slightly curly hair, and a striking nose above a stubborn mouth and a solid chin. With two broad leather straps across his chest and a massive leather belt, he obviously knew how to circumvent the rule that civilians were not allowed to wear armor. The same could be said about his knee-high boots, which, by the sound of them, had soles reinforced with nails. Such boots were a convenient place to hide a long Seregad dagger as sharp and strong as an axe. The only thing spoiling his physical perfection – which was capable of piercing the heart of any Enteverian woman enamored of male display – was the look of boredom on his face.

“How long do we have to keep walking like this?” Vordius finally asked. He had to catch up to Sorgius so he could whisper properly, and it was a miracle he managed to avoid stepping on his friend’s flapping pants.

“Stay calm, old man, stay calm. We have to get into our roles so that nobody recognizes us,” and he wrinkled his nose at a beggar boy. Vordius gave the boy a shove for good measure. “See!” Sorgius rejoiced. “You’re getting the hang of it!”

“You look like a clown,” Vordius grumbled. “Let’s go straight to the Lotus. I’m starving!”

“I knew it would end like this,” his companion sighed and led the way.

When they reached their destination, they saw that there were lotus petals scattered on three sides, as advertised (they couldn’t see the fourth side of the tavern, because it backed up to the water). There were three rows of galleries where guests could enjoy the fresh air surrounded by bronze statues and dark red lamps that were lit when the sun went down. The hum of stringed instruments and the reedy sound of flutes and a tarbon wafted out of the tavern. It was still early, and the most interesting entertainment was yet to come.

Sorgius chose a highly visible table on the middle terrace and, moving like an arrogant monkey, made himself comfortable on the sofa. Vordius sat next to him, a strained look on his face. He wanted to call loudly for food and drink, but he had forgotten to ask his more experienced companion (who was supposedly well-versed in the ways of the criminal underworld) whether or not such behavior suited his role.

“Stay still,” whispered Sorgius, as if he could read minds. “We have been noticed already.”

It was true. A waiter appeared out of thin air, as if he had an invisible door next to their table.

“What will you be having?”

He was a weasely man with a sharp nose and a toothy grin. Vordius stared at the list of dishes, but Sorgius was in no hurry. He let his eyes wander over to the river, as if he were too deep in thought to consider what he wanted to eat.

The waiter cleared his throat, looked the newcomers over, and said, “I’m pleased to greet you, dear guests! Our tavern is delighted to offer you…”

Vordius was having trouble locating on the menu the dishes the waiter reeled off when suddenly something hit his left leg hard. Finally guessing what Sorgius wanted, he interrupted the gastronomic monologue.

“Stop flapping your tongue like a fish in a bucket. You see who we are. Bring us the best of everything, and quick!” he waved his hand in front of the man’s face.

Suitably impressed, the waiter disappeared. To Vordius’ surprise, the best of everything at the Lotus was just as good as what one might find at the finest restaurants in Enteveria. Duck in lemon sauce, roast pig with a sauce of nuts and dried apricots, and a fantastic plate of fried fish of all sizes – these were just a few of the dishes the Lotus served to solid deal-makers. No one was expected to eat it all. The custom was to try at least six or seven dishes, sip as many varieties of wine, and then lean back on the sofa to discuss serious business over the delicious morsels left on the table.

Sorgius and Vordius decided not to deviate from that custom, all the more so since Sorgius could definitely afford it. They attacked their food with the naked zest for life that was typical of men with practical minds and violent hearts, men who sleep with one eye open and know the value of each second of life. After trying a dish of deer meat in lingonberry sauce, Vordius leaned back with a cup of red wine and almost choked in surprise. A stranger had taken a seat at their table. The man had deep wrinkles on his forehead and was radiating the kind of smile a child shows a dish of honey ice cream before devouring it.

“Allow me to introduce myself, dear Enels! I am Quandius Sapheley, the manager of this fine establishment. When I heard that we had such discerning guests with us tonight, I wanted to make sure that everything is to your liking.”

Sorgius put on a polite smile and exchanged basic pleasantries with the man.

“Agrisoban? Never heard of it,” Sapheley murmured as he poured himself a cup of wine.”

“All of Vuravia knows of the region now that my family has established peace and order there,” Sorgius proudly proclaimed.

“Of course, the breadbasket of Vuravia. I should have guessed,” and the manager winked at Vordius, who was doing his best imitation of a statue, and took another sip of wine. “But Old Frizey keeps a tight leash on things. I suppose you are in well with him?”

Sorgius grimaced. “Old Frizey used to be the biggest merchant in our parts, but he died three years ago, and his trade is now in the hands of the three Big Kinsmen who are like this” – he clasped his two hands together – “with Dracasium Nerey! My family answers to Kinsman Koshtey. My name is Grishtan Akroerty, and I’m here on business. This is Ihliy Hazo, my bodyguard.”

Vordius nodded grimly.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” purred Sapheley. “You can find people looking to buy and sell just about anything here. But please remember, if you strike a deal here, the establishment takes a share as a commission. It helps us keep up the menu,” he smiled sheepishly.

“The menu!” Sorgius laughed rudely. “Ihliy, people in these parts have a sense of humor!” He turned back to the manager, “How much?”

“A quarter of the transaction. And if it’s your first time here, we charge a modest fee up front, and the amount is negotiable.”

“That Asp is nobody’s fool, is he? Or is it all going in your own pocket, friend?”

The fawning smile disappeared from the manager’s face like crumbs blown off the table. Now they stared back at a heavy-set thug with the eyes of a butcher.

“Who told you about Fire Asp?”

“Told me about him?” Sorgius narrowed his eyes. “He’s the man we came to see.” There was an uncomfortable pause, so he went on. “My older brother’s wife is from the Mraheli family, and her sister, Vlaseney Krivo, the one who lives in Gorgendia, is married to Mercius Ahery, whose cousin is a lawyer named Mezolo. He’s the one who put us in touch with his kinsman, the barber Taney.” Here, Sorgius looked around at the other tables. “Where is that Taney, by the way? The old rogue promised to introduce me to Fire Asp!”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Sapheley replied dryly. “Although, I did expect to see Taney here tonight. What business did you want to discuss? Fire Asp doesn’t often talk to strangers in person.”

“I know he doesn’t,” Sorgius said, calmly looking the man in the eye. “But I think he’ll be interested in what I have to say. I’ll eat my sandals if anyone else in this harbor of vice controls a certain trade the way my family does.”

The man thought for a moment. “Are you looking to place a large order? Vuravians usually do.”

“You can rest assured that it will be a very big order!” Sorgius assured him. “We are the only ones trading this way in our city, and Kinsman Koshtey likes it, too. It’s an untapped market.”

“If your kinsman is involved, then you will have to go through one of the Vuravian banking houses,” the manager concluded. He leaned back and put his hands on his knees.

“That’s one of the things we can discuss with Fire Asp,” Sorgius shot back, “if he’s interested.”

Vordius expected the manager to take offense at this, and he tensed his right arm. Sapheley, however, just smiled sweetly and said, “Let’s find out.” Then he stood up and disappeared back into thin air.

Vordius leaned over the table and grabbed his friend by the collar, “May the Shadow take you, Sorgius. What is this trade you’re talking about? Why don’t I know anything about it? What do I do if they ask me questions?”

“I’m the one doing the talking. Your job is to nod and look tough.”

“I’ll show you tough!” his eyes glinted.

“Sit down. People are watching. And let go of my collar.” Sorgius whispered. When Vordius complied, he continued, “The trade I’m talking about is the black market for voluntary workers – poor men who can’t pay their debts. They work for food, and the people who buy them keep the profit.” He lowered his voice. “There are official quotas, of course, but men like this Asp know how to buy quotas from corrupt members of the chancery. And there’s a shortage of workers in Vuravia right now, so…”

“Do you think it will work? Vordius interrupted. “What if they decide to talk to the barber first?”

“Why would they do that? Don’t you understand anything? If they wait for him, they’ll have to share with him. They’re thinking that since Taney never mentioned me, he was planning to go around them and keep the money for himself. This way, he gets nothing. Now hush, he’s coming back!”

Sapheley slid up to their table oozing with decorum. “My dear Enels, you’ve been invited to share a bottle of wine. Follow me.”

The friends rose slowly and, moving with dignity, followed Sapheley into the tavern. They passed through a hall where guests hollered appreciatively at dancing girls and men playing stringed instruments and found themselves in a narrow hallway. The walls were hung with a tapestry of gold dragons romping on a field of pale blue velvet.

“I beg your pardon, but you will need to leave your weapons here,” the manager’s voice was silky as he held out a copper tray.

Looking disgusted, Sorgius slowly laid an aquamarine-encrusted Capotian dagger on the tray. Vordius, his eyes empty, added two long boot knives.

“I’m sure you understand,” Sapheley said as he stepped aside. His place was taken by a dour man with a pointed face and a sack-like figure. His large lips made his face even less pleasant. He felt both visitors down with palms so large that Sorgius and Vordius felt like toys in his hands.

“Good grief!” Sorgius thought with a shudder. Vordius tried to catch the large man’s eye with an aggressive glance, but he was ignored. The man was only interested in their clothing and whatever might be hidden in it.

“You may go in,” Sapheley instructed them, pointing at a door that was carved in the Torgendam style with spiraling patterns.

They entered a dim room with four bronze lamps shaped like writhing snakes that cast very little light. The flames coming from their open mouths cast flickering shadows on the wood-paneled walls. At the other end of the room, a man in a gray robe who looked to be about forty sat on a round antique stool. On either side of him stood a large bodyguard. Losing no time, Sorgius introduced himself with great magnificence and handed the man a gift, as was the custom.

“It’s real Cahadrian topaz!” he bragged about the bracelet, which his father had brought him as a gift from home just a month before.

Vordius inconspicuously looked around the room. The silence that followed did not bother him, for he had little interest in men from the criminal underworld who pretended to be kings. In fact, he was feeling quite confident.

“Greetings, friends!” the man finally said in the voice of one who sees the flaws in everything, even in the Heavenly Deity. His round face contrasted oddly with his sharp nose and thin lips.

“My name is Cordelius Yahey. When Fire Asp was told of honorable guests from the south, he asked me to receive them with all the proper hospitality. My words are his words. I thank you for the gift. Please sit down.”

The friends sat next to each other on a long bench that was a little too hard to be comfortable. Moving silently, servants came in and placed a small table in front of each of them. Then, cups of various sizes were set on the tables. This was the beginning of sei nifu, an Ulinian ritual that had become popular among the more powerful men of the Empire’s underworld.

“How was your road, dear guests?” Yahey inquired politely, lifting a small cup.

“It was a good road, and you are a good host,” Sorgius bowed, holding his cup with both hands.”

“Allow me to offer you some wine!”

They were poured a soft Ulinian wine that had been warmed to enhance the plum notes. After the first sip, the drinker always wanted to drain his glass and ask for more, but that was exactly what made the wine dangerous.

“Is our host well?” Sorgius asked the next question in the series and lifted a slightly larger cup that had just been filled noiselessly.

“Quite well, thank you!” Yahey replied with a bow.

“Allow me to offer you some wine!”

It was a game that could go on forever, but at any moment the guest could leave without losing face or offending the host. All one had to do was politely say “Thank you, the wine was delightful!” However, the two friends were in luck, and the conversation soon took a more pragmatic turn.

“How is my distant brother, Kinsman Koshtey?”

“He is well, thank you for asking.”

“And his wife, that paragon of Vuravian womanhood – is she well?”

Sorgius tensed for a moment, but replied in a calm voice, “I am sure that her soul finds joy in the next life with the Heavenly Deity!”

Yahey’s face showed nothing as he replaced his cup on the tray in front of him. A long strand of light hair fell in his face.

“I have been told you would like to engage in trade?”

Vordius shook himself awake. Sorgius smiled broadly. “Exactly.”

“Who told you that we could help you?”

“The man you know as the barber Taney.”

“I do know a man by that name,” Yahey said. He was silent for a moment, and then said, “Was he supposed to introduce you to me?”

“He promised he would,” Sorgius said coldly.

“But he said nothing about it to me,” their host replied with a shrug.

“He was supposed to speak for us. We cannot speak for him,” Sorgius said.

The man’s lips stretched into something like a smile. “True. He wronged you if he gave his word and broke it.” He paused. “Or did he never give his word?”

Vordius gulped. Their host’s dreamy manner concealed something dangerous. He looked down and to one side to see if there was anyone behind him.

“Ask him yourself!” Sorgius said, looking surprised. “He’s late, but I’m sure he’ll be here.”

Yahey folded his arms across his chest. “Have no doubt that I will ask him. Unless someone else asked him first. Like, you, perhaps? What do you think?”

Sorgius had to work hard to keep from shaking.

“I’d have to answer to all the three families if anything happened to him. If it wasn’t that, I’d be happy to cut him. Cut him out, that is.”

Yahey narrowed his eyes and laughed. “I like you, Vuravian! What trade interests you? Carpenters, stone layers, plasterers? I hear that many new buildings are going up in Vuravia…”

“Oh no,” Sorgius chuckled. “I want the real goods, if you are getting my drift.”

“Of course!” Yahey nodded. “I understand you perfectly. We are the only ones who have the real goods.”

“I need girls,” Sorgius said, holding up two fingers as if they grasped a precious stone. “Pretty ones. Two hundred to start with.”

“Two hundred girls!” Yahey chortled. “Pretty ones! For a start! What on earth do you need so many of them for? Don’t tell me they’re all for your own town. It’s a lovely place, I’m sure, but very small.”

“Let me explain. Our town is small, but it stands on the border with Capotia. From there, it’s a short trip to Mustobrim, where girls from the Empire are hard to find.”

Yahey sat up straight. “You know the laws of Mustobrim, don’t you? The punishment for what you are proposing is death!”

“That should give you an idea how profitable it is.”

“But you need connections to move people over the border, especially if you want them to get there looking like anything.”

“My family has extensive connections. The Capotians have traditionally been the ones transporting girls to Mustobrim, but we looked into it and decided to give it a try. The market in Mustobrim is for blondes, but redheads are even better. Can you find me some nice redheaded girls?”

“Certainly! But let’s go over the details. How do you intend to pay?”

“The Halava banking house will issue a letter of credit once we view the goods.”

“Halava?” Yahey smiled. “Of course, my friend. What about delivery?”

“To the Vuravian border. We will take them from there…”

As the two men went into the details of the transaction, Vordius sat in silence and thanked his creator that Sorgius who had always helped his father in his trading business knew what he was talking about. It was unnerving for an Imperial Guard to listen in on the details of a criminal transaction, but Sorgius was like a fish in water. Vordius noted with wonder that his friend seemed to believe in the reality of what he was proposing.

“It will take time to collect the goods you want,” Yahey said. “But you can see some of the girls right away. Will that be good enough?”

“Thank you, friend. I saw a nice redhead here in the port recently. She was slender like a cypress with small breasts and a tiny waist. I saw her once and can’t forget her. She leans her head to one side when she smiles, and her voice is capricious. You would have to hear it to know what I mean.”

Vordius saw a shadow cross Yahey’s eyes, but they instantly softened again. “She sounds like the dream of any man! I have not seen her, I’m afraid, but Fire Asp will find anything you want. Perhaps not that girl, but a better one!” He looked up at the ceiling in feigned gratification.

“I bow to you from the entire Akroerty family. The barber Taney told me that our Asp is a real mensch. I see now that he was right.”

Yahey laughed courteously. “Did he tell you much about Fire Asp?” he asked craftily.

“No, he didn’t, actually. He said I’d understand when I saw him.”

“I see,” Yahey nodded. “Did you still want to see Asp?”

Sorgius shrugged. “You and I have decided everything so well already, and I don’t want to distract him from his important affairs.”

“But you are a guest,” Yahey smiled. “My master will be glad to receive you. Let me go inform him about our agreement.”

The friends were left alone in the room. The strains of music that had been coming up from the tavern below fell silent, and they could hear the sound of splashing water from outside. That, along with the barely noticeable rocking motion, indicated that they were in a part of the building that sat on a barge moored at the dock.

Vordius, tired of his taciturn role, was about to ask his friend a question, but Sorgius kicked him hard. They might be observed, and the tiniest mistake would give the game away.

Time passed, and still Yahey did not return. Sorgius looked around the room. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Vordius stood up and walked from one end of the room to the other. He walked over to a wooden panel in the wall and knocked lightly on it.

“Look here, it’s a window!” he exclaimed. “These are the shutters.”

Sorgius was about to tell him to shut up when the door suddenly opened. The friends sighed, but their relief was premature. Four large men barged into the room and held the self-proclaimed merchants’ arms behind their backs. Sorgius cried out in pain, accidentally knocking over one of the tables. The cups rolled across the floor.

“You want to see Fire Asp, do you?” Yahey growled from the doorway. His face had changed, and not for the better. “You will see him before your deaths, which will be drawn-out and agonizing if you don’t tell me right away what happened to our friend Taney and his apprentices!”

Vordius’ eyes went red. Ignoring his pain, he gave Yahey a look of hatred. “I am an officer in the Imperial Guards on a special mission, and I have a hundred of my men in ambush around this building! If we don’t walk out of here by the next watch, they will turn this den inside out!”

Yahey gave him a sugary smile. “Ambush, you say? Let’s call them together.” He looked up at the ceiling and his voice changed to a falsetto. “Men in ambush! Come out, come out wherever you are! The port ruffians have seized your officer!” He turned back to Vordius, “Now it’s your turn. Shall I open the windows so they can hear you better?”

There was a knocking sound and the shutters on the window opened. Outside, all was silent. Instead of the lights of the city, they saw only the riverbank lined with low, wooden buildings. The building they were sitting in was a boat, and it had left the capital without their noticing.

“Why don’t you say something, officer of the Guards? Is your throat dry?” Yahey stepped up to Vordius and tossed the rest of the wine in the jug in his face. The guardsman fell back and shut his eyes.

* * *

“Scoundrels! Asses! Mangy dogs!”

Vordius was beating his head against the logs that made up the wall. His efforts barely made a sound. His hands were tied behind his back, so this was the only way he could find release for his humiliation. His friend, who was in no better a position, stared at his own stomach, as if the answer to their dilemma would come from there.”

“Maggots! How dare they touch a member of the Emperor’s guard? When I get out of here, I’ll cut down the whole lot of them!”

“Go right ahead,” Sorgius said. “But we have to get out of here first.”

“So you think this a joke, do you? That’s just like you!”

“And you are being just like yourself. ‘How dare they touch me?’”

“I suppose you already have a plan?”

“I might. I’ve got three ideas I’m working on right now.” Sorgius moaned and leaned to his left. “They tie tight nots!”

“Three ideas? You’re the one who’s been knocked in the head,” Vordius leaned against the wall and laughed. “They’re going to strangle us and feed us to the fish by morning, and you say you have three ideas!” He turned and hit his head against the logs again.

This time, it was Sorgius who laughed. “Keep at it, friend, and you’ll solve our problems. Either you’ll break a hole in the wall and we’ll escape, or you’ll bust your head open. And that would be an escape of sorts.”

“Fine, oh deep thinker. What do you have? Entertain me while we’re still alive.”

Sorgius sighed and gave up trying to loosen the ropes that bound his wrists. “Here’s the first idea: lots of people don’t consider the consequences of their actions. When you deal with a person like that, you have to hit him in the head before he knows you’re there.”

“True enough,” Vordius grumbled. “I may be guilty of that. Sometimes.”

“And the second idea. This is the most realistic one. They simply don’t believe us.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like this: you come into their territory and try to fool them, so they grab you by the collar and it’s off to the knackers with you. In this world, everyone is lying all the time. Nobody believes you, even if you’re telling the truth.”

Vordius frowned and looked down. “What a stench! I never would have thought that fish could stink like that.”

“It’s probably some old stores,” Sorgius said as he tried to get a look at the roof, which was hidden in darkness. Their jailers had given them one small light, but it was not nearly enough for them to get a good look around them.

They were silent for a time.

“What about the third idea?” Vordius finally asked.

“You won’t like it,” Sorgius said slowly. “There’s a big man with his hairy paws mixed up in what happened to Uni, and he’s got rank. Probably somewhere in the palace. And he and the people under him don’t give a fig about a guardsman and his little Vuravian friend.”

“Is that even possible?” Vordius was incredulous.

“Anything’s possible. You didn’t bring your badge with you, did you?”

“You told me not to!”

“It doesn’t matter now. But if they kill you…”

“Us! They’ll kill us!”

“I’m sorry. If they kill us, it doesn’t really matter to anyone. Vordius Onato, a nicor in the Imperial Guards, disappeared while on his own time. Nobody knows what happened to him. Maybe he deserted, betrayed his beloved Emperor?”

“Oh Heavenly Deity, what have I done?”

“To them,” Sorgius pointed at the wall with his chin, “it’s all logical.”

“Only because we’re a pair of idiots! Good old Sorgius knows what to do! I wish I’d never listened to you. You’re a dead man!”

“You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, but I still can’t see where we went wrong. I know all about the trade. I’m from Vuravia, after all. And that creeping reptile Yahey never let slip that he suspected something.”

They sat together in silence.

“Maybe Yahey is actually Fire Asp?” Vordius’ face lit up. “And if the redhead is his girlfriend, then he knew what you were after before you even opened your mouth. He was playing with us like a cat with a mouse, and we walked right in between his paws!”

“That looks like the size of it.”

“May the Shadow take you, Sorgius! This isn’t funny!”

“I didn’t say it was.”

A sudden, harsh sound made both friends jump, but it was just a door – an old door that didn’t fit its jamb and needed to be oiled. Vordius tensed his body and prepared to meet with a bitter fate ending in death, but once again he was tricked by an unexpected turn of events. A third person – small and limp – was tossed into their cell and landed in a heap on the floor, crying out in pain.

Before they had time to think, four ruffians entered the cell. They were all heavy-built and smelt of beer and unwashed bodies. One of the four squatted in front of Vordius and drew a knife out of a narrow leather sheath.

This is the end! flitted through the guardsman’s mind. He felt no fear. Instead, he looked straight in the thug’s eyes, firm in his intuitive decision that he would not look down, even when the knife went for his throat.

“You look like a carp on a hook with your eyes bugged out like that,” grinned the thug, showing his yellow teeth. His comrades chortled at what passed among them for humor. Vordius was distracted, and in that instant, the ruffian grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and shoved his face against the wall. The guardsman saw stars.

Now he’ll take me by the hair, pull my head back and cut my throat like a sheep! Heavenly Deity, what did I do to deserve this death?

And once again, the Heavenly Deity made it clear that no man knows his own fate. The ruffian pulled his arms over his head roughly and did something to his wrists.

“Let’s have that other one!” someone said behind his back. He looked up at his arms (which were so numb he could barely feel them) and saw that the cords that had bound him were gone, leaving only red marks on his wrists. Feeling almost drunk, he breathed in deeply the smell of rotten fish and thought: How wonderful it is to be alive!

Without waiting for an invitation, Sorgius turned his back and raised his bound arms as high as he could.

“Look at him! He wants it!” the ruffian guffawed, gyrating his hips at Sorgius’ backside. His colleagues laughed loudly, and the little Vuravian went beet-red, but his humiliation did not last long, and soon the cords were gone from his wrists, too.

The ruffian put the knife back in its sheath and growled, “You know what to do. We won’t get in the way.” And with that, they were gone.

“Did any of that make sense to you?” Sorgius broke the silence. Vordius shook his head as he stared off into space. Then he leaped up and looked around their cell. The body that had entered the scene first suddenly showed signs of life and began crawling for the opposite corner. It was hindered by the fact that its hands were tied, so Vordius caught up with it easily.

He looked at it closely. “It’s a girl!” he announced.

“No!” Sorgius waved his hands as if warding off a curse. “Don’t tell me it’s…”

“Have a look for yourself!” The guardsman took an oil lamp from the wall and knelt down in front of the young woman who had joined them in their misfortune. She crawled as far from him as she could until her back hit the wall. Sorgius peered at her over his friend’s shoulder.

“Stop shaking like that!” Vordius burst out.

The young woman’s red hair was plastered to her filthy, tear-stained face. Her dress, once obviously very expensive, was torn from hem to waist, and she tried in vain to hide the bruises on her long legs.

“It’s her!” Sorgius said quietly in the voice of a man who knows he is doomed.

“Are you sure?” Vordius turned to him. “Really sure?”

“Absolutely,” he answered flatly.

“We’ve got you now!” Vordius grinned, turning back to the girl. “It’s good to see you again, Fenia Brazelo. Do you remember me?” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You tried to kill my brother, you vile piece of work! I’ll squeeze you so hard your heart will pop out of your mouth!” The young woman turned her face away.

“Stop it, Vordius,” Sorgius said in a voice that was still quiet, but suddenly firm. “Can’t you see she’s terrified? And she’s been beaten.”

“Let’s finish her off!” the guardsman cried, never taking his eyes off his target. “We’ve got her, Sorgius! The one who poisoned Uni!”

“We aren’t scum like those out there,” Sorgius nodded at the door.

“You’re right, of course,” Vordius agreed, “but what I see in front of me is one filthy hag. And I swear by the Emperor’s crown that she’ll tell me everything she knows and then I’ll…”

“And then what? Don’t you understand? That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

“What?” Vordius turned from the girl to his friend and back.

Sorgius’ voice got stronger. “Unlike some people, who let their anger get the best of them, I’ve given some thought to what is really going on here.”

“And?” the guardsman asked, scratching his shoulder.

“They tossed her in here for a reason. They want us to make short work of her ourselves!”

“But why? What would they gain by it?”

“Don’t you see? Imagine you’re Asp and the Imperial Guards are looking for a girl who did a dirty job for you. That makes her a problem, and you don’t need problems. So they grabbed her and knocked her around until she told them everything she knew. Then they tossed her in here for us to finish her off. Even if we manage to get away, we won’t be able to tell anyone what we found out because we’ll be charged with murder.”

“That’s a bunch of complicated nonsense.”

“Maybe it is, but I recommend talking to her peacefully. After all…”

Vordius put a palm to his forehead. “Of course. You’re always the lover, and you didn’t get enough small talk with her last time.”

Sorgius grimaced, “Don’t give me that garbage. You’ve known me too long for that. Save it to tell as a joke when we get out of here. Now move out of the way!” He pushed his friend aside and took his place.

“Hello,” he said, bending down and looking a little embarrassed.

Fenia stared out from behind her dirty hair with a hunted look. In better days, she would have tossed her hair over her shoulder with an elegant motion of her small head or blown it out of her face impatiently. Now, her dirty, greasy hair was the only thing between her and these frighteningly aggressive men, and she hid behind it in hopes of saving her fragile world from destruction.

“Please just listen to me,” Sorgius went on. “We are very worried about our friend Uni. Someone poisoned him while we were at the Fish. The only thing we want is to find out who ordered it and prove his guilt. You were just carrying out someone’s orders, weren’t you?”

The girl nodded.

“Then you have no reason to fear us.”

Fenia froze for an instant and stared up at Vordius.

“Take three steps back, please,” Sorgius instructed him without turning around.

The guardsman scowled, shrugged, and measured off the required distance with his boots.

“Please, go on,” he said in a falsely sweet voice. “I won’t watch.”

Sorgius bit his lip and looked down. Then he raised his eyes to the girl’s face. “He won’t yell at you again. Isn’t that better?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Her shoulders started to shake.

“We’re in the same boat,” Sorgius went on. “And there’s nothing any of us can do about it. But I promise neither of us will hurt you. If you want, I’ll leave you alone and you can sit here by yourself. Would you like that?”

Fenia shuddered and looked up at him. “Don’t leave!” she said with obvious effort.

It was only then that Sorgius noticed that her lips were puffy. A backhand blow, he mused. It doesn’t look like her teeth are broken. That’s good.

“I won’t leave you,” he said quickly. “But I will sit down, if you don’t mind, before my legs fall asleep,” and he groaned as he arranged himself in a seated position on the cold floor. “That’s better!”

For a while, they stared at each other in silence. Then, Fenia looked down and tried to wipe away her tears with a filthy shoulder. It didn’t go well.

“Can I help you?” Sorgius asked. “I can untie your hands.”

She looked back at him, but her eyes fell again. The Vuravian realized that her arms were tied behind her back, like his had been. And he remembered how ridiculous he had felt when the ruffians released him.

After an uncomfortable silence, he said “Listen, Fenia, we have to get those cords off your wrists. If we don’t, they’ll leave scars right where everyone will see them.”

The young woman’s face remained blank.

“Let’s do this. I’ll take a step back. Then you turn around and show me your hands, and I’ll do my best to get the cords off.”

She stood up.

“That’s right. Face the middle of the room.”

Fenia froze.

“Vordius, go stand in a corner. That’s a fellow.”

When he knelt in front of her, Sorgius caught a whiff of her incense, and it was incongruous given the circumstances, reminding him of that evening at the Fish and the continuation that had never happened. He would have given a great deal to return to that evening!

The knot was impossibly tight, and Sorgius’ well-groomed fingernails were not up to the task. Fenia looked over her shoulder to monitor the process.

“I know I’m not wanted, but perhaps I could help?” Vordius inquired from his corner. As a guardsman, he knew the art of making knots and untying them like no one else.

Fenia jumped away.

“Stop it!” Sorgius said testily to the back of her head. “If he was going to hurt you, he would have done it already.”

Vordius bent over the knot, doing his best to ignore the nearness of her body. “Hmm, I thought I could undo it with my teeth, but I see that won’t work. But no matter, it will just take some time. This goes through here. Watch your finger. And be still! That’s right. Like that. I know it hurts, but be patient. Heavenly Deity, I believe I’ve done it!”

The young woman leaped away from him and held her hands up for inspection. Her dirty face gave a child-like grimace – it was too dark in her corner for her to see. Moving cautiously, she joined Vordius by the oil lamp on the wall.

“The bruises will be gone in a couple of days,” the guardsman said in an attempt to brighten her up. While they had searched for Fenia, Vordius had hated her violently, but now that he saw her helpless figure, his revulsion drained away. “It wasn’t her idea, of course,” he said to himself as an excuse. “Someone threatened her. They made her do it.”

“I suppose I have to thank you,” Fenia said, coming round.

“Not yet,” Vordius shot back jokingly. “We’re still locked up.”

“Aren’t your friends from the Emperor’s guards turning the docks inside out like an old woman shaking a pillow?”

“I would give a great deal to see that with my own eyes,” Vordius laughed, “but I’m afraid that’s not the case.”

“What are you saying?” Fenia asked, narrowing her eyes, which made her look like a fox.

“We’re in this on our own,” Sorgius said, examining the damage her cords had wrought on his fingernails. “This handsome man’s superior officers have no idea where he disappeared to. And if they do find out,” he gave a long whistle. “Don’t argue with me, Vordius. You and I came up with what turned out to be the perfect plan for romantic suicide. I’ll admit my guilt if it makes you feel any better.”

“We just wanted to find the person who poisoned Uni,” Vordius shrugged his powerful shoulders. “And you were the first suspect.”

“You wanted to find me?” Fenia was incredulous. Her voice started to sound unhinged. “Are you serious? You wanted to find me?” She pointed at Vordius and her laughter grew louder. There was something wild and even sick about her reaction. “You wanted to find me, so here I am, right in front of you! What are you going to do now? Question me? Get revenge for your dead fool?” She pointed her chin at the door. “That’s exactly what they want! Come on, give me your worse!” She was laughing so hard that tears ran down her filthy cheeks.

Sorgius froze, feeling humiliated. Vordius glowered. Then he strode across the cell and slapped her face sharply, but not too hard. Fenia cried out. Her face turned pink, and the sense returned to her face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I had no idea it was poison…”

“What?” Vordius’ jaw dropped.

Just then, the door bolt slid open and the same four ruffians came back in. This time, they had their weapons at the ready: two carried long Seregad daggers, and the other two held thick clubs of the hittle wood that grows in the thick Arincilian jungle.

“Look at them,” said one of the ruffians, a fat, older man with dirty gray wisps of hair behind his ears. “They’re all standing around laughing because they don’t know what to do! I guess they need help!”

“They know what to do. They just don’t know how,” broke in the man next to him, slapping his palm with his club. “Faces to the wall, sissies! Mickay will heat things up in here!”

Shaggy-headed Mickay stuck his dagger in his belt, wiped his hands on his bright green shirt, and then…

If Vordius had been alone, he would have tried to calculate the consequences, assess the risks, and come up with a rough plan of action. But now, his instinct to protect those weaker than himself took over. He grabbed the sputtering oil lamp and threw the oil in the thug’s face. The effect was immediate, but without a light, neither side could see what was going on in the melee.

Moving in on the cries of the burned man, Vordius grabbed him and wrestled the dagger from his belt. A few blows later, there was one less ruffian in the cell. The others were fighting all around him, and it sounded like they were fighting each other.

“Fenia crawl to the wall!” Vordius cried. He immediately realized that he had given away his location.

Following his intuition, he dodged left and barely missed a club aimed at his head. Crouching, he slashed at the shadows around him, crying “I’ll kill all you pigs! I’ll slash you into belt leather!” Someone screamed and began cursing like a sailor. An instant later, the door opened and one of the ruffians called for help. As the door slammed open, it let the deem light of the torches from the corridor in. Out of shock or fear, he didn’t know himself, Vordius started to feel or even sort of see the things around him: the silhouettes in the twinkling light of the candle, trembling in the stream of air from the door, and the shades of fire on the walls.

Expecting a crowd of the thugs to swarm into the cell any minute, Vordius made a terrible mistake: he threw his newfound dagger at the man in the doorway. The knife wasn’t meant for such use, and it hit the man handle-first. The Heavenly Deity, though, was on his side, and the knife handle somehow landed squarely on the back of the man’s head. He fell to the ground, his large body blocking the doorway.

Stunned by his luck, Vordius almost got hit by the third ruffian. He grabbed the man’s club at the last second, but the man let go of it and head-butted him in the face. Vordius saw stars and lost contact with reality for an instant, during which the thug threw him to the grown, sat on his chest and started beating him with his fists. He only got in a few blows before Fenia, silent as an owl, grabbed his hair in her left hand and, with her right, drove a dagger into his neck.

“Can you walk?” she asked the guardsman, who was sprawled on the floor.

“Of course!” he said cheerily, but he had a hard time getting up. He felt like there was a hive of bees buzzing in his head. His legs gave out and he grabbed the young woman’s shoulder, almost causing her to fall.

“You’re in bad shape! Where’s Sorgius?”

“Over here!” came a voice at the other end of the strip of light from the doorway. The little Vuravian was crouching by the wall with his arms over his head. “Is it all over?”

“Let’s go, may the Shadow take both of you!” the young woman said with a scowl.

“Of course! I’m running already!” Sorgius replied, tripping over the fourth ruffian, who was crawling across the floor with one hand covering a wound in his side. Sorgius hitched up his wide pants and kicked the man hard in the face. The ruffian cried out and started crawling in the other direction.

“Get moving, fearless leader!” hissed Vordius, cursing his own slow-moving body. Then he turned to the girl. “Let’s make for the river!” He pushed aside the body in the doorway.

They found the exit to the landing quickly. Gripped by fear, Vordius imagined a horde of cutthroats drawn by the sound of fighting, but the storehouses on the landing were abandoned and empty. Soon, however, they heard voices and saw flickering lights behind them. They would be foolish to expect miracles.

“We have to find a boat!” Vordius commanded. “Fenia, you look to the left. I’ll look to the right. Sorgius, find some oars!”

“Yes, Enel nicor!” grumbled Sorgius. He turned his head this way and that and dove into an old storeroom set back from the water.

“Where in the shadows are you going?” cursed the guardsman.

Sorgius didn’t even turn around.

Vordius clutched his head. Their enemies were getting closer, and he knew he didn’t have enough time to get them all safely away in a boat. A wave of nausea hit him, and something was pounding inside his left temple.

“I found some oars. They’re heavy!” puffed the Vuravian as he ran up, holding his elegant pants up with one hand.

Fenia cried out. When they turned to the sound of her voice, they saw her waving frantically. “Here! Here’s a boat!”

“Did you check if it’s sound?” Vordius asked as he jumped in. In the next instant, he realized she had already untied the rowboat from the dock. It buckled and slid away from the bank.

“What about me? You forgot me!” Sorgius cried out, standing on the bank with an oar under each arm. He turned around and saw the first of their enemies running down the landing.

“Jump, you fool!” Vordius screamed with all the love he had for his friend. He couldn’t imagine losing him so stupidly, right when they were about to triumph over some of the capital’s most hardened criminals.

Spurred on by this wise counsel, Sorgius, who was out of his mind with fear, made a pitiful face and leaped as far as he could – which wasn’t quite far enough. His oars almost knocked Vordius into the next life, but the guardsman managed to dodge the blow and grab hold of them, leaving Sorgius suspended above the water.

“Give me the oars! I need to row!”

“What am I supposed to hold onto?”

“Grab the stern, you clown!”

Fenia tried to help the ridiculous pair, stepping gingerly in their direction with an outstretched hand, but her added weight made the stern too heavy.

“Get back to the bow! Just sit tight and don’t move!” Vordius groaned weakly. He was praying that the ruffians weren’t armed with multi-shooters, and that there weren’t any other rowboats in the vicinity, and – for good measure – that he and his friends could just vanish into thin air. The way things were going, he feared they could all end up dead without any help from their enemies.

Sorgius finally let go of the oars, and Vordius quickly put them to good use.

“Hold on, do you hear me?” he ordered his friend, who was being dragged along behind the boat like a log. “Once I put some distance between us and them, I’ll help you get in. Don’t do it yourself. You’ll just turn us over!”

It was difficult to pick up speed with Sorgius holding on to the stern, but the friends had taken the only sound boat in the area. They did not know that, however, so Vordius pulled for the middle of the river where it was dark and he could rest a little.

“Give me your hand and crawl in slowly,” he said as he hauled his friend into the boat. “It’s so dark out here I can’t see a thing!” With Sorgius finally in the boat, Vordius let out a sigh and lay down in the bottom. “Praise the Heavenly Deity, we’re all alive!”

“Watch where you put your feet. You aren’t the only one in this boat!” Fenia reminded him from somewhere in the dark.

“Ah, our redheaded beauty. How could I forget? Is that all you want to say, my dear? Don’t you have any gratitude?”

“You need my gratitude like the Heavenly Deity needs a torch,” the girl said with a cynical laugh. “You wanted to ask me about your friend, is that right?”

“I believe we already asked,” Vordius shot back. “Now tell us everything you know. We’re listening most attentively.”

“Let me get my pants off first. They’re full of water and I need to wring them out,” Sorgius broke in.

“I don’t care if you dance naked, just keep your mouth shut!” Vordius growled.

Fenia tittered in the dark.

“Don’t get distracted,” the guardsman said, keeping her focused on their grim reality.

“Of course. The poisoning. Why do you think it was me?”

“Sorgius, did you get your pants off already? Let’s tie her up in them and toss her in the river. I think she’s forgotten that we just saved her life.”

“I was just asking a question. Don’t get sore.”

“I saw you pour something on his food,” Sorgius bluffed. “I thought it was a spice, but it obviously wasn’t.”

“I didn’t know it was poison, either. May my eyes never see the Sun again if I’m lying!”

Vordius whistled. “What are you saying?”

“They told me it was a laxative.”

“And you believed it?”

“I didn’t care, honestly. Two hundred leros is serious money.”

It was Sorgius’ turn to be shocked. “Good grief! That’s an enormous amount of money for a prostitute.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” Fenia cut him off. “And don’t you dare call me one!”

“I can call you whatever you like, but it’s all the same.”

“You don’t know anything about me, and it’s not your place to judge!”

Sorgius smiled. “But of course. You just look for men to be friends with. Money’s got nothing to do with it!”

“Listen, Fenia,” Vordius rejoined the conversation. “This isn’t an official interrogation, but whether you meant to or not, you almost caused the death of our close friend. You have to tell us about yourself, your ties with Asp and who gave you the cistrusa!”

For a while, the only sound they could hear was an occasional fish splashing. Finally, the girl took a deep breath.

“Fenia is my real name. It’s a common name, so there’s no reason to hide it. I never had a family. I made up my last name, Brazelo. I was adopted by the Iron Carp gang before the Iristenians killed them all. Rich men hired us – pretty little girls – for parties and other events. We danced for them. Sometimes they told us to just stand around smiling like nymphs. People at the parties told us we were beautiful, and we were glad if they gave us something to eat. We slept together on rough mats, and when it was cold at night, we huddled together for warmth. We were always hungry, but…” she paused, “…it was the best time in my life. The nightmare started when the Iristenians took over the port. They murdered all the Iron Carps and made all of us sisters sell our bodies. If a girl tried to refuse, they would beat her and then rape her. All of them.” Fenia was silent for a moment. “They couldn’t make me do anything, so they tossed me, beaten and bloody, onto the trash heap for the dogs to finish off. I still see one of those dogs when I close my eyes. We stared each other in the eye, each of us trying to survive. It wanted to fill its belly and the bellies of the other dogs with my meat. I wanted to force it to find easier prey. I don’t know how, but I won that staredown and the dogs left the trash heap. For a while, I lived there, eating whatever I could find. I was thirteen when I killed my first dog and ate it. I still remember it.”

She fell silent again, and Vordius thought he saw tears in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for a person who had suffered more in her short life than he and Sorgius had been through, even put together.

Fenia took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d get out of that hole, but then everything changed,” she continued her story.

“Asp showed up?” Vordius asked eagerly.

“Yes. He brought together what was left of the old port gangs and kicked out the Iristenians who had grown soft and stupid because they thought they had absolute power. They had all the civil servants and the guards on their side, but Asp…they were like mice compared to him.

“Have you ever seen him?”

“Are you kidding? Nobody’s ever seen Asp, except his most trusted chiefs. He is his own weapon and his own army. The Iristenians had nine elders – nine gray-headed leaders. Asp killed all of them with his own hands, some at night, some in bright daylight in front of their own bodyguards. He is invulnerable. He always appears out of nowhere, strikes like a snake, and disappears as if he had never been there at all. The Iristenians were warriors, puffed up with their own bravery and fearlessness, but he turned them into cowering dogs. They panicked like sheep. When the destitute people of the port realized what was happening, they raised up and turned on the Iristenians. It was a bloodbath. People wanted revenge for seven years of oppression. When it was over, Fire Asp owned the southern port and he put everything back in order. Every single person knew his place and his share. There was no more infighting. Under Asp, people are earning more. We’re doing business with important people from other provinces, but we make sure that part of the profits go to help the poor, the sick, and the orphans.”

“You make him sound like a humanitarian,” Vordius noted sourly. “I guess he’s been good to you.”

Fenia stared back at him. “He gave me a chance to do work that I’m good at. Yahey, his right-hand man, said that my body is beautiful, but it does not feel pleasure. Still, it would be a crime not to use it. So I work as an actress and I’m proud of what I do.”

“An actress?” They all heard Sorgius slap himself on the forehead. “How did I miss it? Your figure distracted me, that’s how.”

Vordius was ashamed. “I apologize for calling you an unpleasant word. I didn’t know you were from the world of the arts…” He would have continued, but the Vuravian’s laughter interrupted him. He scowled. “Why are you laughing like a horse? I just don’t have time for the theater…”

“We aren’t talking about the theater, you fool. Were you thinking she plays queens and priestesses in history plays at the Honto theater? You’re absolutely naïve. When thieves say a woman is an actress, they mean she draws in dimwits off the street, gets them drunk and relieves them of their cash.” He turned to Fenia. “Now I know why they had her go after me.”

“But who did the choosing? That’s the question,” said Vordius, chewing on his bottom lip. “Describe the man. How did he find you?”

“He was a client like any other,” the girl shrugged. “He approached me and took me upstairs to a room. I thought the Heavenly Deity had sent me an easy mark. But as soon as the door closed behind us, he changed like a snake sheds its skin, and I froze. He tossed a purse at me and told me it contained a hundred leros. He asked if I wanted to earn as much again doing what I was already doing. He gave me a phial of something to use on your friend and pointed me toward Sorgius in front of the tavern. Once you were inside, it wasn’t hard at all for me to talk my way into your party.”

“Ha! And you had your eye on her!” Vordius needled his friend. Turning back to Fenia, he asked, “How did he know so much about us? He had to have known about Uni’s appointment, that we were getting together at the Fish, and that he had a friend with a weak spot for pretty women. He must have had a source at the palace.”

“I don’t know about that,” Fenia said simply. “He just said that your friend Uni had jumped over his head to get an important job and he wanted to humiliate him in front of his friends. With the laxative. I think you understand…”

“What nonsense!” Vordius exploded. “How on earth could you believe it?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I didn’t really think about it. He gave me the money up front. It’s not my business what other people have in their heads!”

“Fine. But what did he look like? Can you at least remember that?”

“I can. I have a good memory for faces. Although I doubt anyone would forget a face like that.”

“Was he ugly?”

“Not exactly, but he wasn’t to my taste. I don’t like these folks from the plains. They’re worse than even the Iristenians.”

“Wait, he was from the wastelands?”

“Yes. He had a funny little beard and squinty black eyes. And his name was hard to pronounce. Abd…Abdarhyz, I think it was.”

Vordius threw up his hands. “And you believed that a nomad from the Great Expanse was angry at Uni over an official appointment?”

“I didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not. I told you – I didn’t care. He had money, and that was good enough for me.”

“How stupid could you be? People die because of fools like you!”

“Stop it, Vordius!” Sorgius interrupted the guardsman’s outburst. “Now inform me, my dear, how do you know his name? Did he go right out and tell it to you?”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” she said cautiously. “He gave me another name first, and I didn’t even bother remembering it, because it was obvious he was lying. But later, when he took me downstairs to show Sorgius to me, a strange man came up to my client and wouldn’t stop talking to him. It seemed like he was an old friend or even a relative. He kept asking my client to drink with him, but the man put him off, saying he didn’t have time. Not now. The other man said ‘How about tomorrow?’ and my client said ‘No, I’ll be racing to Lumdyrbag tomorrow.’ So the other man sighed and asked him to caress the mouths of his relatives.”

“What?”

“She’s right, Sorgius, that’s how the Sotrays talk. But you can’t make me believe they were speaking Herandian. Or do you understand Sotray?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“I don’t speak Sotray,” Fenia said with annoyance, “but it’s very close to Iristenian, especially the simple words, and I learned Iristenian on the docks when I was a child.”

“That could be,” Sorgius sighed. “Where does that leave us? A Sotray named Abdarhyz from Lumdyrbag. It’s enough to tie your tongue in knots! He’s obviously just a middleman, and anyway, he’s off racing his horse across the sands of the Great Expanse. You couldn’t catch him now, even if you had the world’s biggest net!”

“Don’t be so hasty, Sorgius. In case you didn’t know, Lumdyrbag isn’t a province. It’s a town. And the people who live there are more or less settled.”

“A town in the wasteland?”

“It isn’t exactly in the wasteland. To be precise, it’s located between the wasteland and the Zabotay mountains.” Vordius was enjoying himself. “There used to be a king there named Drazgarb who did a good deal of trading with the Iristenians. He tried to unite all the Sotrays under one throne, like our Empire, but it didn’t work out and he got himself killed. By his own men. Or that’s the official story. But he did manage to build a town or something along those lines. It isn’t a big place, but at least we have an address to start with.” He scratched his head. “Although to be honest, I don’t know what to do about it. Or what we are going to find there. The Expanse is a long way off…”

“Exactly. Right now, we’re the ones who need finding,” Sorgius sighed. “Now get up and row before the current carries us all the way to Ulin.

“But which way? It’s pitch black out here, and I bet all the cutthroats from the port are waiting for us on the bank. We’re Asp’s personal enemies.”

Sorgius laughed. “Didn’t you used to call them a bunch of rabble from the port?” He shook his head. “Just row in place for now. If we see a boat with lights, we’ll try to follow it. Once we get back to the city, we’ll find a place to jump off. But there’s one thing. What are we going to do with Fenia? They’ll chop her into tiny pieces if they find her!”

“She’s not my problem,” Vordius shot back. “I have a fiancée.”

“I can’t take her home,” Sorgius objected. “My father told me not to bring any more women home. After that one time…”

Something in the bow rustled and they heard Fenia’s voice. “Don’t bother. I already owe you my life. I’ll spend the night in some lice-infested hostel for the homeless, and in the morning I’ll strike out for one of the provinces.”

“How could I forget about the inn!” Sorgius exclaimed. “Have no fear, we will put you up in style. You’ll be fed and have a clean bed to sleep in.”

“Sorgius!” The guardsman sounded shocked in the dark. “You don’t mean…”

“I do! It’s all settled! Don’t bother arguing. Look!” he cried, “there’s a light just above the water. Stop talking and get behind it. I’m sure it’s a Capotian merchant. Don’t worry, Fenia. Your fate is in good hands!”