Against A Dark Background (39 page)

Sharrow lay near the edge of the black cube, listening to Breyguhn and Geis as their breathing became heavier and more laboured; she heard the rustling noise of clothes being moved over skin and other clothes. The breathing became louder still and started to sound like moans. Breyguhn shouted out at one point, and Geis mumbled something, but Brey whispered quickly, and soon they were moaning together again and Sharrow lay there, feeling herself blush despite herself, her eyes wide, her mouth closed round her right wrist, teeth biting her own flesh so that she wouldn’t laugh or cry out and let them know she was there.

‘Sharrow!’ Geis shouted.

Sharrow froze, skin pimpling. The black surface of the sarcophagus roof seemed suddenly very cold.

Had he seen her? How could he have known.. .?

Then she realised, and relaxed.

She smiled, feeling smug, then frowned, unsure whether it was a compliment or an insult.

She listened to Geis breathing hard as he said, `Brey; Brey; I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-’

Breyguhn howled. Sharrow’s flesh crawled. Breyguhn sobbed something but she couldn’t make out what it was. There was some more rustling; hurried and urgent.

`Brey; please. I meant-’

`Leave me alone!’ shrieked Breyguhn, and then Sharrow heard footsteps on the grassed path, and one last moan from Geis. Breyguhn appeared where Sharrow could see her, forcing her way through the bushes growing over the path; Sharrow started to edge away from the side of the tomb in case Brey turned and saw her, but Breyguhn didn’t look back; she disappeared sobbing into the undergrowth, heading towards the house.

Sharrow lay there for another ten minutes, not daring to move. She listened to Geis dressing, then smelled another shoan cheroot. She thought she heard Geis sit down again and give a small laugh.

Eventually she heard him rise, and then saw him too head back down the path.

She lay there a while longer before she dropped down where they had been. The flattened grass by the side of the tomb looked sordid somehow, she thought. You could tell exactly what had gone on here just by looking at it. She smiled to herself, and stooped to pick up a half-smoked shoan stub. She sniffed it, considering keeping it for later. Then she thought of Geis’s lips on it, and Breyguhn’s, and of his lips on hers . . .

`Yuk,’ she said to herself, and let the stub drop to the grass.

She slipped her formal grey shoes back on and draped the ashcoloured coat over her shoulders. She took a slightly circuitous route back to the house, where the reception following her father’s funeral was going quietly ahead without her.

`Oh, cheer up, Cenuij,’ Zefla said. She poured him some more wine.

`I will not cheer up,’ he said, slurring his words.

They had gone back out to The Pulled Nail that evening; Cenuij had left the festivities at the castle as soon as decently possible and joined them.

He drank from his goblet. `I can’t believe that dunder-brained bumpkin survived,’ he said, slowly shaking his head.
Climbed up the wall. You’d have thought any self-respecting stom would have plucked him off like a blister-fruit, but the brainless little shit survived!’ He drank deeply from the goblet again.
Fucking ridiculous!’ he said.

`What was that last comment?’ Sharrow said, coming back into the private room they’d hired and sitting down at the table. ‘A self-critical assessment of your recent ideas, Cenuij?”

He looked at her, eyes watery. He pointed at her with the hand holding the goblet.
That . . .’ he said, narrowing his eyes. He looked at her for a moment. Then he sighed and shook his head sadly.
That is actually almost a fair comment,’ he conceded, putting the goblet down and placing his head on his hands. He stared at the table surface.

Hey,’ Zefla said, patting his back.
You’ve tried, Cen. Twice.’

Twice!’ Cenuij said, holding his opened hands out and staring at the ceiling as though appealing to it.
Prophet’s blood, twice!’

`Not to worry,’ Zefla said.

`We’ll think of something else,’ Miz said, rocking back in his chair.

`It’ll be all right in the end,’ Dloan agreed, nodding.

Cenuij fixed Zefla, Miz and Dloan in turn with a bleary look. `Sorry, could you all be a bit more vague? I hate being bombarded with details.’

Miz grinned and shook his head. Dloan was expressionless.

`Oh, Cenuij . . .’ Zefla said, putting her arm round him.

”Oh, Cenuij,”‘ he muttered, trying to imitate her. He shrugged her arm off and stood up.
Call of nature,’ he said, heading wavily for the door.

As he opened the door, the noise of the inn’s main bar- where people were dutifully celebrating the fact the King was still alive -swelled to a roar, then sank back to a murmur again as the door swung to.

Miz shrugged. He reached into his jerkin and took out an inhalant tube. `Well, I was saving this until we’d got the damn book, but-’

Yeah,’ Zefla said, face brightening dramatically.
But what the hell, eh?’

Miz cracked the inhalant. They each took a few breaths.

Anyway,’ Sharrow said, after she’d let her breath out.
Maybe this vault isn’t as impregnable as Cenuij thinks.’

Yeah,’ Miz said, coughing.
Fucking hell; we took out the one they kept the C.A. in; compared to that anything else should be easy.’

`Just getting the equipment might be a problem,’ Dloan said.

Think team,’ Zefla said, grinning broadly. She handed the tube back to Miz, who was looking at the door of the room and frowning deeply.
What’s the matter?’ she asked him.

He nodded towards the door as his hand went to his pocket. `Gone very quiet down there all of a sudden,’ he said.

The others listened. The background buzz of noise from the bar below had disappeared.

Miz rocked forward in his seat and took out his gun. `Personal experience,’ he said, getting up and padding to the door,
has taught me it’s a very bad sign when Pharpechian bars go this quiet.’ He looked at Dloan and nodded sideways to the door.
You go and check it out, Dlo.’

Dloan got up silently.

Miz grinned. `Hey, I was only kidding . . .’

Dloan held up one hand. `No; I’ll go,’ he said.

Miz looked up at the expression on the big man’s face.
Yeah,’ he said.
You go.’

As Dloan opened the door, there was a scream from downstairs, then a terrible wailing and crying. Sharrow looked round the others. Dloan went out. Miz watched him walk along to the stairs leading down to the bar. The wailing got louder. He closed the door.

`What the hell’s that?’ Zefla breathed.

‘Cenuij just told a joke?’ Sharrow suggested. She reached into her jacket pocket and took out the HandCannon.

The wailing kept going. Dloan came back unharmed after a couple of minutes, closing the door behind him and sitting in his seat.

`Well?’ Sharrow said.

Dloan looked at her. `The King is dead,’ he told her.

`What?’ Miz said, coming over to the table.

Dloan explained it as he’d heard it.

The King had been demonstrating to the banquet guests how he’d escaped from the stom that evening. He’d climbed all the way up a large tapestry hanging against one wall of the banqueting hall and stood on the rafters, waving his wine goblet around as he described his strength, dexterity, bravery, and sureness of foot. He had slipped and fallen, hit the heavy banqueting table with his head and spattered a surprisingly large amount of brains over the tenth course, a sweet.

`Yeah!’ Zefla said, not too loudly, and then immediately covered her hand with her mouth. She looked round guiltily.

Miz took a last suck on the inhalant. `The King is dead,’ he said, passing the tube to Zefla.

`At least this might cheer Cenuij up,’ Sharrow said.

Miz looked at the door. `Yeah, where’s he got-?’

Cenuij opened the door and came in. He locked the door and crossed to and opened the window, then kicked a nearby stool underneath it; he climbed up on the stool and looked out. He turned back and smiled unconvincingly at them.

They were all staring at him.

‘Cenuij?’ Zefla said. `You okay?’

Fine,’ he said, voice hoarse. There was a sheen of sweat on his face. He nodded at the window.
Let’s go.’

`What?’ Miz said, putting his gun away in his jerkin.

Don’t put that away, we might need it,’ Cenuij said.
Come on, let’s go. Just leave the money on the table.’

‘Cenuij,’ Sharrow said. `Have you heard? The King is dead.’

He nodded quickly, looking exasperated.
Yes, yes, I know,’ he said. He nodded at the door he’d locked.
But a load of monks just turned up and asked for lodgings here.’

`So?’ Sharrow said.

Cenuij swallowed. `They’re Huhsz.’

Miz dumped a load of coins on the table and went out along the landing to check Cenuij was right. Zefla lifted the two remaining bottles of trax spirit. Sharrow shoved the inhalant tube into a pocket; she was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. Cenuij was persuaded that the drop from the window was a little too great; Dloan checked along the corridor outside and found some back stairs.

Miz came back from looking down into the hall of the inn.

Yeah,’ he whispered.
It’s the Huhsz.’

A minute later they were gone, quitting the inn’s rear courtyard and heading out onto a small track that looped round through a field to the road for the town.

They had hired torch-carriers to escort them from the town to the inn, but didn’t want to wait for the youths to rouse themselves from the inn’s kitchens, or attract the Huhsz’s attention with lights. They’d all brought night-glasses with them except for Zefla, who held onto Dloan’s hand as they walked quickly up the road. They looked back to see a tall carriage surrounded by dark figures being manoeuvred through the archway into the inn’s main courtyard.

Sons of bitches,’ Miz breathed.
I saw ten; how about you?’ he asked Cenuij.

`Twenty; maybe more,’ Cenuij said.

Shit,’ Miz said. He looked at Sharrow, a pale ghost striding alongside, unknowingly disguising her limp as she did so.
Now what?’

Forget the book,’ she said.
We run.’

I have a better idea,’ Cenuij said. He smiled at Sharrow as she looked back at him.
We hobble the Huhsz first, then we run.’

‘How?’ she asked.

A word in the right ears in the castle ought to do it,’ Cenuij said.
I’ll tell the arch-impietist I’ve heard the Huhsz are here and that they’re God-worshipping republicans. That should put the fear of God into the Pharpechian religious authorities. Especially at the moment.’

Well, don’t take too long,’ Sharrow said.
We’re going to get the fastest mounts we can find and set off for the railway.’

It might be best if we didn’t split up,’ Zefla said.
What if Cenuij is expected to stay in the castle, to join in the mourning or something?’

Yes,’ Sharrow said, looking at Cenuij.
What if?’

Don’t worry,’ he told her.
You arrange the transport; I’ll delay the Huhsz and get out in time.’

`Fate, feels like free-fall.’

Geis smiled. `Watch,’ he said. He took a pen from the pocket of his Navy dress jacket, held it in front of him, then let it go. The pen fell slowly towards the floor of the elevator. Geis retrieved the pen when it was about level with his polished knee-boots and put it back in his pocket.

Sharrow jumped lightly and floated towards the ceiling, then pressed herself back down with her fingers, laughing.

`You’re not supposed to do that,’ Geis said, grinning as he watched her pull her dress down from where it had ridden up her legs.

`I see why you said we had to finish our drinks,’ Sharrow said, steadying herself against the wall by the grab-handles. Geis still held both their glasses from the party, but he’d insisted they drink up before they took the elevator to inspect the gallery.

The air whistled round the lift like a distant scream.

Geis glanced at the depth display. `Should start braking now,’ he said. The elevator shook slightly, the screaming noise altered in pitch, and weight gradually returned.

`What was this anyway?’ Sharrow asked.

`Old gold mine,’ Geis said as the lift slowed further and they felt their weight increase. The scream died to a moan.

`Feels like we’re almost through the crust,’ Sharrow said, flexing her legs.

Hardly,’ Geis said.
But we are very deep; deep enough to need refrigeration to keep the tunnels comfortable.’ The lift came smoothly to a stop and the doors opened.

`Where the hell is he?’ Sharrow looked up at where the first hint of the slow dawn was turning the membrane sky a faint, streaky blue.

They had quit The Broken Neck almost as fast as they had The Pulled Nail. They returned to the stable on the other side of town where they’d sold the jemers they’d ridden in on. There hadn’t been any need to hammer at the door to get the proprietors up; like most people in Pharpech town, they had been awake all night, first celebrating the King’s miraculous escape, then mourning his tragic demise. Cenuij was supposed to meet them there, but they’d already waited two hours.

The stable had gone quiet behind them, the owner and his family finally gone to bed. They waited on the road outside. Zefla lay curled up asleep amongst their baggage, her head resting against a shallow bark crate full of empty beer jugs the stable had left out for collection by the local brewery. Dloan sat near her, looking down the road the way Cenuij ought to come, while Miz paced up and down and Sharrow alternated standing with her arms folded, foot tapping, and also pacing up and down. Their five mounts and two pack jemers snored and snorted fitfully, lying sleeping at the side of the road.

`Let me call him,’ Miz said to Sharrow, coming up to her and waving the transceiver.

She shook her head. `He’ll call us as soon as he can.’