Читать книгу Players of the Game - Graeme Talboys K. - Страница 9

Alltud followed Jeniche into yet another narrow gap between buildings. He groped along behind her as fast as he dared in the darkness, fumbling to get his keffiyeh across his face as Jeniche had done. There was still a great deal of desert dust about, especially in less-frequented byways. When they had been out for an evening stroll it was bearable, especially in areas kept clean on a regular basis, but they were now in a hurry and trying to avoid others, darting through places that street sweepers had not bothered or dared to venture. The last thing either of them wanted was to be incapacitated by a coughing fit.

He was happy to follow her lead. Desert girl she may be, but this kind of landscape was her natural environment and she seemed to know by instinct which alleys were blind, where the crossways were, what doorways were safe to rest in.

There was, however, precious little time to rest. Jeniche grabbed the cuff of his right sleeve in her left hand and continued to lead the way. Even though his eyes had now become accustomed to the intense gloom, he could see very little beyond the shape of Jeniche in front of him – a swift shadow in the darkness ahead.

‘How much chance,’ he asked in a whisper as they stopped at a junction, ‘do we stand of losing them?’

Jeniche said nothing for a moment, checking that the way ahead was clear, and then tugged his sleeve to get him moving. ‘Not much,’ she replied once they had crossed an unlit residential road and plunged into another alley. Invisible walls loomed above them on either side, their unseen presence sensed through sound and touch.

‘They looked like locals. They’ll have run the streets since they were knee-high to desert rats,’ she added as they skirted the edges of a large yard, keeping to the deeper shadow. Alltud eyed what little he could see of the roofline whilst Jeniche guided him round invisible obstacles. He thought he caught the odour of burnt sand and hot metal characteristic of a forge, but it was a fleeting impression. ‘They’ll know all these back ways blindfolded and sleepwalking. Still, they may get arrogant and careless. Or we might, in our ignorance, go places they wouldn’t dare to enter.’

‘Was that meant to be reassuring?’

Beyond the yard there were more of the seemingly endless alleyways and narrow gaps between buildings. Alltud wondered just who lived there and if it was as bad in daylight as it felt in pitch darkness.

Tired, they stopped for a moment in a broader, silent thoroughfare, standing side by side in a wide doorway. The gates behind them felt solid. Even through the cloth over their lower faces they could smell and taste the fine desert dust they had kicked up in their flight.

Alltud pushed back against the door. ‘Any chance—’

‘No lock. Barred from the inside.’

‘What if we split up?’

He should have been ready for it considering the number of times she’d done it in the past to make a point, but the punch on his arm was as unexpected and painful as it had ever been. He smiled in the dark.

‘We are not splitting up,’ she said. ‘Not until we both have safe passage home.’

Alltud refrained from sighing. He knew that meant when he had safe passage home, but that was an argument to have later. Right now, they needed to escape from this maze and find their way down to the waterfront.

Stepping out into a street where several lanterns hung was disorientating. They had both become so accustomed to moving silently in the dark, that they felt exposed and uncertain. They could travel faster, but they could be seen.

Jeniche looked a silent question at Alltud, who shrugged in reply. ‘At least it’s downhill,’ he said.

They stepped out and walked as if they had every right to be there and weren’t being chased for some reason. Several women crossed the street further down the hill and went into a large building. Two donkeys stood outside patiently chewing on fodder and ignoring the noise from within. There were other signs of life as well.

‘All that must have been workshops back there,’ said Jeniche. ‘They weren’t likely to risk the rooftops in case of guards.’

‘So we shook them off?’

Three men appeared further downhill. The same ones they had seen before.

‘You had to ask.’

‘What do they want?’

‘I don’t know. Let’s go and ask.’

‘Very funny. So what now?’

‘Let’s go and find out who owns those donkeys.’

‘What?’

But he followed all the same. He had no doubt that they could have beaten the three men in a fight, but the last thing they wanted was trouble. Of course, the last thing you want…

Jeniche patted one of the donkeys as they passed, but it was too busy eating to do much more than twitch its long, soft ears. They stepped through the open double doors of the building where the women had gone. Hot, damp air enveloped them, carrying faint sounds of talking and splashing.

‘A bath house?’ asked Alltud.

‘Better hope it’s not ladies’ night if it is,’ said Jeniche.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, stepping sideways to avoid her knuckles.

Following the noise, they went through an inner door, pulling down their keffiyeh. It was ladies’ night, but it wasn’t a bath house.

Lanterns ranged round the walls were wreathed with steam. The women there were emptying baskets of clothing into large vats, standing on a low step to drop their loads into the steaming water. Boys scuttled about carrying bundles of firewood.

Bemused, Alltud stopped and watched until a nudge from Jeniche moved him on. He looked over his shoulder as they went through into another room, catching a glimpse of the three men.

The new room was noisier and much larger. There, baskets of wet laundry were dumped into smaller tubs of soapy water and large, bare-armed women stood with washing paddles to stir and pound the clothes. Others were transferring the lathered garments into shallow troughs where they beat them against angled stone slabs. The wet smacking drowned out any conversation and the steam made it difficult to see a way through.

Weaving between the tubs, slipping on the floor, avoiding the paddles that rose and fell, dancing round youngsters who carried dripping loads from one tub to another, they made their way through the complex of rooms looking for a way out. Their pursuers, not having to waste time looking for a route, gained ground.

Beyond the washing and rinsing area, they found themselves in a huge drying shed. Lines of washing hung dripping onto a floor lined with drainage channels. Jeniche pushed Alltud ahead of her between two lines of sheets.

‘Run,’ she said.

He didn’t need urging and they sped along as fast as the uneven ground would allow. Risking a glance, Jeniche saw their pursuers following.

As they reached the far end, Jeniche called: ‘I need a leg up.’

Alltud turned, bent forward, and laced his fingers together, palm up, making a step. Without breaking stride, Jeniche placed a foot into Alltud’s hands and he straightened his back. As she was hoisted upward, she drew her swords. With delicate twists of her wrists, she sheared through the heavy washing lines on either side of her and dropped back to the ground.

Somewhere behind them was a roar as their pursuers went down beneath a tangle of wet sheets and line. Another roar as the owner of the laundry saw what had happened.

From the enclosed smell of soap and clean linen they ran out into a vast yard filled with low bleaching vats filled with urine, reeking under the night sky. Another young man stood uncertainly in their way. He was armed but looked neither happy nor prepared. Alltud charged straight at him and shouldered him to one side.

Jeniche saw the look of horror on the young man’s face as he realized there was no way he could stop himself from going into one of the vats. He wouldn’t be rejoining the chase anytime soon. They could still hear his pathetic cries for help as they clambered over a wall and vanished into the darkness beyond.

They had been none too certain where they were before, although Jeniche had a vague idea of which direction they should be heading. Now they were completely lost. The chase through the laundry and the subsequent desire to put distance between themselves and the trouble churning in their wake had left them disorientated.

After catching their breath, they had cast around until they found a narrow road that went downhill. With a great deal of caution they crept along, avoiding doors and windows, hoping their presence would go unremarked by the occasional local that they encountered.

Before long, Jeniche stopped. They rested against the side of a decrepit building.

‘Problem?’ asked Alltud in a whisper.

‘I’m not sure this is the right downhill any more,’ said Jeniche. ‘We may be heading inland. It’s too dark down there. The harbour is always well lit at night.’

‘Well we can’t stay here,’ he replied. ‘Wherever here is. Take your best guess.’

They stepped back out onto the road for a few paces before Jeniche found them another alley. Alltud found he was getting used to the dark, although it was not something he wanted to make a habit of.

Following close on Jeniche’s heels, he became aware that she was slowing. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, ‘What’s wrong?’

In the dark they heard a whistle.

‘That,’ she replied.

From a distance came a whistled response.

‘There’s someone up at roof level following us. Been there a little while. I wasn’t sure, but that exchange just gave it away.’

‘Same people?’

‘I doubt we’re interesting enough to be followed by two separate groups.’

‘I didn’t think we were interesting enough for one, unless the lodging house owner has a big family.’

‘Well, whoever they are, they don’t seem to want a confrontation.’

‘Ever the optimist, desert girl. They’re just making sure we face them on ground of their choosing.’

‘Then let’s see if we can disoblige them.’

Alltud stepped forward and collided with Jeniche. She grabbed him and turned him round and gave him a shove. He got the idea, but was happier when Jeniche took the lead again.

She didn’t double back for long before finding a new direction. And it was clear they were moving into a much poorer part of town. The ground became uneven and the walls felt rougher to the touch. Several times they stumbled on rubble from houses that had fallen into disrepair.

At the same time it became more populous. Alboran was full of refugees. Whilst the bolder ones had camped out in the more prosperous areas, the majority had sought out the empty houses and derelict spaces, the very places that Jeniche and Alltud now found themselves. And with people there was increasing noise and light. Fires burned, people cooked and talked, a whole city within a city carried on its life in the flickering shadows and starless summer dark.

They wandered for a while, tantalized by the smells of hot food, watching warily for pursuit, eager to avoid trouble. Before long they were deep in the heart of the enclave and had found themselves a niche where they could rest. It was close enough to someone’s fire to make them seem part of the group without them infringing on the small territory that had been established with piles of rubble.

While Alltud sat and rested, well back in the shadows, Jeniche approached the nearest group of refugees and bought some of their food. It was just a stale loaf and some old apples, but along with water from their own water skins, it was a feast. And as they ate, Jeniche had a chance to work out where they were.

When they had finished their meal and dozed and woken again in the early hours of the morning, they took stock. It wasn’t a long process.

‘So,’ said Alltud. ‘We’re in trouble again.’

‘It’s our one abiding talent.’

‘What did they want, I wonder.’

‘More to the point, do they still want it?’

Musing on that, they watched the sky. The moment it began to lighten would be a good time to make a move and try once more to get down to the harbour. Ships would be venturing out to sea again, and they may need crew members, people willing to work their passage to wherever they wanted to go. If Alltud was lucky there might even be something heading for Ynysvron. A lot of wine and olives went there from the region around Alboran, along with spices and rare metals.

Jeniche knew she would have a longer and more difficult journey, but there was bound to be something heading in the opposite direction. She looked sidelong at Alltud. And thought again. Makamba was calling, but perhaps another visit to Alltud’s homeland wouldn’t go amiss. Despite all the recent bickering, parting company seemed like the worst of all options, even if they would have to retrace their steps northward across western Arben to Brocel, trying to remember who they had annoyed on the journey south. It was best faced together. She smiled to herself.

A light kick from Alltud brought her back to the here and now where, somewhere on the far side of the refugee camp, there was a commotion. They looked at each other. It could be a lot of things. A fight between neighbours, drunks kicking up a fuss, some ritual awakening of a particularly religious group of refugees. They neither of them really thought so.

Without a word, they gathered themselves and set off as inconspicuously as possible. A steady pace, no lurking, trying not to glance over their shoulders too often at the increasing noise behind them.

‘Sounds like they’ve had a chance to find where we went to ground,’ said Alltud as they slipped round a corner and ran downhill. ‘I wonder if that poor lad has finished washing himself yet.’

‘As long as we don’t have to go back and redo all those sheets.’

‘Well, I’m no expert, but I’d say that was the least of our worries, desert girl.’

They had pulled up short. In the dim dawn light filtering through the dust they could see the way ahead was already occupied.

Jeniche said a rude word. ‘They seem to have multiplied in the night.’

Alltud sighed. ‘Here we go again.’

The nearest alley was inviting, but they passed it up as too obvious. Instead, they ducked into the open doorway of a large house, ran through the ground floor startling a young lad in the kitchens before emerging into an alley at the rear.

Left, right, left, they darted along the narrow passages. At one point someone made a grab at Alltud, pulling him off balance. He went down in a cloud of dust, but was on his feet again in an instant, his assailant’s head gripped under his arm.

‘No time for dancing,’ called Jeniche.

Alltud left the man on the ground with a painful and bloody nose.

‘This is beginning to annoy me,’ he gasped when he caught up with Jeniche. ‘Perhaps we should just let them catch up and show them what we can do.’

‘Oh, can you imagine how far we’d get if real blood was spilled?’

‘I didn’t start it. Whatever it might be.’

‘They would surely finish it. Archers on the roof. The end.’

‘For sneaking out without paying? It all seems a bit drastic.’

‘Some people are like that.’

Once again they pulled up short. The alley was almost wide enough to be called a street, but the two men ahead blocked it quite effectively. As they stepped closer one of them drew a sword. It was a clumsy move and one look at his face told them he’d never faced an opponent before. Alltud shook his head slowly and the man, barely more than a boy, turned to face him, lifting the point of his blade.

The shing of Jeniche’s swords surprised the young man and he barely had time to change focus before his own sword lay in the dirt. His companion vanished.

‘Get home and wrap that wrist in a poultice. It’s only sprained. But a word of advice. Never draw a sword unless you mean to use it.’ She spoke kindly as she re-sheathed her blades, but the young man’s face whitened and they could hear him retching as they turned the corner.

There was only one direction left to go and that, in itself, seemed ominous. It didn’t help that it led to a large and very deserted square.

‘If you were going to choose a place…?’ Alltud asked.

Their pace slowed and faltered. In the centre they stopped. There were a number of ways in and out. The roofline was low. The ground was smooth and had been swept clean of dust.

‘This would be it,’ Jeniche replied. ‘Whichever way we try to exit we will find is blocked. There are no doubt archers up there.’

‘Would that lad have friends who knew one end of an arrow from the other?’

Several men appeared at the far end. They were different to the ones who had been chasing them. These were well rested, all wearing the same plain livery, well armed, with calm faces.

‘I don’t think it’s his friends we have to contend with.’

Behind them, others stepped out from alleys and doorways. They were surrounded.

‘Shit. Not like this. Not here.’

They drew their swords.