Читать книгу Stormtide - Den Patrick - Страница 11

‘I’m looking for a man called Tikhoveter,’ said Marek to the barkeeper. They had left the Watcher’s Wait shortly after Kimi, and Marek had led them from tavern to tavern since. Steiner was pleasantly muddled by the ale and stole kisses from Kristofine whenever his father wasn’t looking. They were sitting in the snug in a dimly lit tavern called the Silvered Palm while Steiner’s father spoke to the man at the bar.

‘Don’t you think it strange … Hoy! Stop that,’ said Kristofine. She moved away from where Steiner had been nuzzling her neck. ‘Strange? What’s strange?’

‘Don’t you think it’s strange that your father wanted to come ashore for something decent to eat and yet all he does is drink with the locals and chat with them about an old friend of his?’

Steiner shrugged. ‘What’s strange is that we don’t just leave him to it and book that room. Get ourselves some of that privacy you were speaking about back on the ship …’

Kristofine half-smiled, half-pouted, then shook her head. ‘I need you to think with your head, not your britches. What’s your father up to?’

‘I’m not one to sit around guessing. Why don’t we just ask him? Here he comes.’

Marek’s expression was serious as he took a seat in the snug. He stared into the bottom of his mug for a moment, then flicked his gaze up to Steiner.

‘What?’

‘Are you going to tell us who this Tikhoveter is then? You’ve been talking about him with just about everyone else here. Why not us?’

Marek snorted a laugh. ‘You’ve always been one to speak your mind, but those three mugs of ale have really loosened your tongue.’

‘He has a point, Marek,’ said Kristofine, her tone placating. ‘He’s curious. I’m curious. Who is it you’re looking for?’

‘I knew a man once. Not a Vigilant, but a man who could hear whispers on the wind and send words of his own. A messenger of sorts.’

‘Whispers on the wind,’ said Steiner with a frown. ‘That’s a trick of the wind school. You’re talking about someone from Academy Vozdukha.’

‘That’s who I’m looking for, but it’s been years since I was here and I’ve no way of knowing if he’s still alive or which side he’s on.’

‘Sides?’ Kristofine rolled her eyes. ‘What sides?’

‘There’s the Empire,’ said Marek. ‘And then there’s everyone else.’

Steiner stood up from the table. ‘I want to meet this old friend of yours. I’m going to need all the information I can get if I’m going to keep my promise to Kimi.’

‘I don’t understand how you’re supposed to protect the Yamali people when we’re on the other side of the continent,’ said Kristofine.

‘I’m hoping that if I create a big enough distraction in the west the Emperor will be too busy to send troops to the east.’ Steiner threw back the last of his ale. ‘What do we do now?’

‘I managed to get an old address.’ Marek eased out of his chair and didn’t look hopeful. ‘We’ll have to hope Tikhoveter still lives there.’

It was just starting to rain as they stepped outside the tavern and a deep chill settled over Virag, numbing Steiner’s fingers. Kristofine huddled close to him and he flashed her a smile and squeezed her waist.

‘So you’re a lusty drunk then?’ she said with a smile of her own.

‘Better that than maudlin or violent, I suppose.’ Steiner chuckled. Marek walked ahead, keeping a keen eye out for Imperial soldiers.

‘Can I ask you something?’ said Kristofine. Something was clearly on her mind from the way she chewed at her lip. ‘About the island, I mean?’

‘Of course.’

‘When you destroyed the Ashen Torment it set the cinderwraiths free.’

‘That’s right. They were no longer bound to the island, free to pass on to the afterlife.’

‘So why didn’t Silverdust go with them?’ Steiner thought on that for a moment as they walked the streets of Virag, following Marek in the rain.

‘He said he was going to stay on at Vladibogdan.’ Steiner thought of the strange Vigilant and his mirror mask. ‘He was going to stay there and lie for me, buy me time before the Empire found out what happened on the island.’

‘Will it work?’

‘Who knows?’ said Steiner, his mouth twisting unhappily. ‘The Empire has powers I can’t begin to guess at. Will the lies of one Vigilant make a difference? I hope so. Strange old thing that he is.’

‘You miss him?’ she asked, as the rain continued to fall.

‘I can’t say I really knew him, but I owe that old ghost a lot. I can’t say I’m happy that we left him on Vladibogdan now that I think about it.’

Marek pressed on through streets that grew more narrow and winding with each mile. The rain and the cold were sobering and Steiner grew tired and irritated in equal measure.

‘Slow down, old man,’ he growled, but Marek didn’t hear him.

‘Are we avoiding the main roads so we don’t get caught?’ asked Kristofine when they reached an abandoned alley thick with shadows and refuse.

‘Not exactly,’ said Marek, stopping outside a narrow townhouse with a battered front door. He beat the wood with a scarred fist and looked over his shoulder. ‘Keep an eye out for soldiers. The Empire might be watching this place.’

No answer came from inside the townhouse. No sound of muffled surprise, no holler or shout that they should wait a moment.

‘Not a promising start,’ said Steiner, taking shelter at the side of the street.

‘Come on, you old bastard,’ said Marek.

‘We should go,’ said Kristofine, her eyes darting to the end of the street. Steiner saw her then for the tavern-keeper’s daughter that she was. He felt a pang of guilt for dragging her into the chaos of his life. Marek opened his mouth to speak as the door creaked open. A woman peeked through the narrow gap between door and frame. She had a serious look on her deeply lined face that changed to a scowl as she realised there were three of them.

‘Well? Are you just going to stand there?’

‘I’m here for Tikhoveter,’ said Marek so quietly the rain near drowned out the words. The diminutive woman looked from Steiner to Kristofine. Her scowl deepened and she opened the door. ‘You’d best come in.’

The townhouse was a place of dark wood panelling and darker shadows. The candles remained unlit and the fireplaces held no cheer. The only light emanated from the lantern the woman held. Now they were inside Steiner could see her properly. Barely five feet tall, she had the olive skin and the dark eyes of the Spriggani.

‘Don’t say anything,’ said Marek, catching the look in his son’s eye.

‘This way,’ said the woman, crooking a finger at them. The stairs creaked under their weight and every footfall seemed a crime against the silence of the house. The woman opened double doors onto an empty room and gestured they should wait inside.

‘What happens now?’ whispered Steiner after the Spriggani woman had disappeared.

‘Now we wait,’ replied Marek, peeling off his wet cloak. ‘And hope he speaks with us.’

‘And what if this friend of yours still works for the Empire?’ said Kristofine with a frown. She shook the rain out of her cloak and her eyes darted around the room.

‘He was never a man that followed orders easily,’ said Marek and crossed to the window where he could watch over the street below. ‘Mistress Kamalov isn’t the first person to turn her back on the Empire. Or even the second,’ he added, as if remembering his own former allegiance. Steiner peeled off his own cloak before settling in to make a fire.

Tikhoveter, when he finally appeared perhaps half an hour later, did not look like the Imperial soldiers they were avoiding, nor did he look like an Envoy. Tikhoveter did not look like anyone the Empire would employ for anything. He was stooped with the passage of years, at least fifty of them if Steiner had to guess. Wild corkscrews of white hair fell about his shoulders and he was wiry-thin. His beard was trimmed but in all other aspects Tikhoveter was a shambles. His britches were patched and stained, his shirt and jacket no different, and the smell of drink was overpowering. Tikhoveter belched loudly, leaned wearily against the door frame, belched again and blinked a few times.

‘Hoy there,’ said Marek. ‘Did we wake you?’

‘On a day like this there’s little to do except nap and read old books.’ Steiner struggled to place the accent. The wiry man drifted past them and presented his backside to the fireplace. He smiled a moment and whispered, ‘There is nothing more wonderful in all of creation than having a warm arse in damp weather.’

‘Are you Tikhoveter?’ asked Steiner. Marek made a growling sound and Steiner fell silent.

‘No Tikhoveter here,’ said the man. ‘He died about ten years ago.’ His words sloshed against each other, and there was a tipsy sing-song quality to the way he spoke. ‘We still get Imperial sorts wandering in here from time to time. Looking for shelter mostly, or somewhere to hide for a night or two.’

‘That’s a real shame,’ said Marek. He remained at the side of the room watching the street outside through the window. ‘But we’re not Imperial sorts. At least these two aren’t.’ He nodded to Kristofine and Steiner, then returned his gaze to the street outside. ‘And I haven’t been for over twenty years.’

Their host turned his back on Marek and held out his hands to warm them. ‘Is that so?’

Steiner frowned, confused at the two men who seemed to be speaking yet ignoring each other.

‘I met Tikhoveter once,’ said Marek, not breaking his vigil at the window. ‘He was a sickly little runt with a hacking cough. The Empire had posted him to Arkiv Island. They had him working in the library but the dust was no good for his lungs.’

The man by the fireplace stiffened and turned his head just a fraction to glance over his shoulder. ‘Never met him.’ Steiner noted the drunken pretence slipping away.

‘And the strange thing about him,’ continued Marek, as if he hadn’t heard the man, ‘was that he had long hair that fell all about him like corkscrews. Never touched a drop of booze on account of his health, but always had an eye for women. Especially Spriggani women.’

The rain continued to drift down in the street and Steiner couldn’t help but smirk. Tikhoveter gave a long sigh and his shoulders slumped forward. He was very quiet for a moment.

‘Fuck my boots,’ he mumbled in defeat. ‘So who the Hel are you then?’

‘I’m the soldier who had you reassigned from Arkiv Island,’ replied Marek with a slow smile. Tikhoveter stood up straighter and frowned a moment.

‘Marek Vartiainen?’

Marek turned to the man at last and nodded once.

‘Have you come to kill me?’ asked Tikhoveter, a wary expression crossing his face like a dark cloud.

‘Do you think we’d just calmly knock on the door if the Emperor wanted you dead?’ said Marek.

‘I’m not so charming as to warrant a social call after all these years,’ said Tikhoveter. ‘What do you want?’

‘Are you still playing both sides?’ asked Marek.

‘Not so much these days. I get word to a few old friends who prefer to avoid the Holy Synod. The Empire leaves me alone by and large.’

‘Something big happened at Vladibogdan recently,’ said Marek. ‘We need to learn just how much the Empire knows.’

‘Information doesn’t come cheap,’ said Tikhoveter, running a hand across his beard. ‘And information about the Empire is more expensive still.’

Steiner reached into his pocket and fished out a guilder. ‘What do you know about Matriarch-Commissar Felgenhauer?’

‘Hel’s teeth, Steiner,’ muttered Marek.

Tikhoveter eyed the guilder and pursed his lips. ‘So the boy has money?’

‘He’s no mere boy,’ said Marek, anger flashing in his eyes as the fire roared in the hearth. ‘And he’s done more to fight the Empire in a few months than you or I have in two decades.’

Tikhoveter held up his hands. ‘I meant no offence.’

‘Yes you did,’ replied Steiner, hefting his sledgehammer. ‘But I’m more interested in Felgenhauer than trading slights.’

‘Last I heard,’ Tikhoveter cleared his throat, ‘is that she was summoned to the Emperor himself by an Envoy. They almost made it back to the Imperial Court at Khlystburg when she went renegade.’

‘Renegade?’ Steiner stood open-mouthed for a second. ‘And then what?’ Tikhoveter shrugged and looked away. Steiner tossed him the guilder and the wiry old man snatched it from the air.

‘Just rumours,’ said Tikhoveter. ‘Some are saying she’s started a mercenary company operating around Slavon Province. That’s all I know about her.’

Marek held up another two guilders. ‘We need to know what the Empire is talking about, and we need to know it quickly.’

‘Come back tomorrow,’ said the old spy. ‘This kind of work can’t be rushed. I’ll reach out to a few contacts and see what I can discover.’

‘Can we stay here?’ asked Kristofine. Tikhoveter started laughing, a cruel sort of sound that gave way to a painful cough.

‘You don’t have to be so rude,’ she replied.

‘Safer for everyone is we stay at a tavern,’ said Marek. Steiner led them down the stairs.

‘I’ll have word by tomorrow,’ said Tikhoveter from the top of the staircase. He did not see them out. The rain had slackened during their brief stay at Tikhoveter’s house but the temperature was dipping.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Kristofine. ‘It takes weeks for a man on horseback to carry messages from one town to another. How does he expect to have answers for us by tomorrow?’

‘It’s what makes the Vigilants of Vozdukha so necessary,’ said Marek. ‘They can set whispers on the wind and send them over hundreds of miles, faster than any man on horseback could ever dream of riding.’

‘Like Mistress Kamalov?’ asked Kristofine.

Marek nodded. ‘It’s why a Troika of Vigilants usually has one graduate from the Vozdukha Academy in its ranks.’

‘So they can stay in touch with the Empire, wherever they are,’ said Steiner.

‘And some folk with witchsign,’ explained Marek, ‘those who are too sick or troublesome, are pressed into service as envoys or spies.’

‘Folk like Tikhoveter,’ said Steiner, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Can we trust him?’

Marek shrugged. ‘Who knows. But he’s our best bet right now, so we have to take that chance.’

Steiner looked back at the townhouse and tried to feel some hope, but uncertainty carried a dread all of its own.