Escana (31 page)

He
seemed to muse on this for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes, we are aware
of your missing persons, there are three of them and they will soon
be accounted for.'

So
he had been right then, they were either holding Ella captive or in
league with her in an effort to get rid of Solomon.

'I
would like to arrest them personally, if you can spare the men.'

Kelgrimm
shook his head. 'I said they would soon be accounted for, not that
they had been found. Your usual eagerness to apprehend has you
leaping to conclusions once more. I am fully confident that we will
bring the perpetrators to justice, my best weapon is on the case.'

Thom
bristled at that somewhat, he was used to getting what he wanted, but
this was Kelgrimm's turf and he had to be patient. Perhaps now was
the time to inform him of his discovery.

'One
of The Six is present in Urial. He prevented my apprehension, I would
not have bothered you otherwise.'

Any
hope of shocking Kelgrimm left Thom when he saw that the man smiled
at even that piece of bad news, was there nothing he hadn't already
foreseen?

'I
appreciate your warning, but I have already appropriated this
character and they are in use in my search.' He looked up at the
hooded figure. 'Why did you prevent the good Warden from ensnaring
the suspects?'

Thom's
heart stopped, he should have known who this was the moment he
entered the door.

'Well,
this is an unexpected development,' El-Vador said, removing the hood
with sanguine grace. 'I had informed our dearest Thom that he would
perish if he passed the bridge, and here he comes stomping into your
mansion without even considering the consequences.'

Thom
knew he should have double-checked the safe house, his leg had
wearied him so greatly that his mind had dwindled into a muggy haze,
focusing on this one task alone. That it was to the expense of
El-Vador only confirmed how weakened he had been from their encounter
in both body and spirit. Even now he struggled to follow the beast's
complicated gestures and mocking tone.

'My
dear Thom,' El-Vador continued, walking toward him with a sword that
seemed to have appeared from nowhere. 'You are a stubborn fool, even
you know that one who is aware of The Six and speaks of their
whereabouts, even in this place, cannot be left alive.'

In
spite of everything, Thom smiled. 'I never thought to witness you
like this, a vengeful cur snarling by a master's lap, fear creeping
into the eyes that seek to exorcise it with violence.'

He
knew they were cheap words before a painful death, but he couldn't
help but show his glee that after all the taunts, it was his words
that caused the slightest pause in the creature's gait. He had scored
a hard-earned point. Now for his final play.

'That's
right my Lord Kelgrimm, your best weapon is also your most devious
one. It knows what's out there, but it's also bound by oath not to
speak of who it is. There is no doubt in my mind that while it may
not be able to give you the information, if you call your dog off I
will.'

Kelgrimm
nodded at this. 'I am aware of The Six, even if I am not privy to
their identity.' He rose from his seat, crossing toward a rack
mounted by the wall. 'El-Vador, desist your posturing, we have
business with the Warden.'

There
was a long silence, this was a heavy power play, now he'd find out if
it was his last.

The
room seemed to contract, as if his focus had sharpened on the two of
them, waiting for a response.

He
didn't know how long they stood there, staring at each other, neither
of them blinking. He found Skullcleaver nestled in his palm, ready to
strike.

It
was Kelgrimm that broke the gaze, carrying three goblets of fine wine
in a carefree fashion and gently pressing one into El-Vador's hand.
This simple gesture stopped Thom fearing for his life, Kelgrimm
seemed entirely in control here.

Handing
the second goblet to him, the Justice prompted Thom with a nod of his
head and raised his own. 'To the spirit of mutual cooperation.'

Thom
walked forward and hoisted his own glass, lowering his sword so the
blade almost touched the ground. 'To mutual cooperation.'

They
both turned to look at El-Vador, who seemed to have recovered the
saunter previously exhibited. Even when touching both goblets with a
crooked smile, the murderous eyes never dimmed.

T
he
purse weighed heavily in her hands. It had been an almost casual
gesture from The Hermit, to offer her coin for the market. The
cheerful thanks in response died shortly after they had shut the
door. Little did either of them realise that by leaving her with the
responsibility of caring for Jakob and insisting that she go to
market they had torn her.

She
knew that they would need food and fresh water but even out of
necessity she couldn't bring herself to leave the room.

She
had thought at first that the strange sense of haven was relief at
having escaped the House of Falarus alive. Yet that couldn't dampen
the feeling of security brought about by this small room. She
realised after a time that it was an aspect of following this
mysterious and protective man. There was an unnatural reassurance
that she could sense was working in both her and Jimmy, yet she found
her heart didn't warn her against it.

The
pangs of hunger intruded into her thoughts, she had eaten sparingly
since her arrival in the House of Falarus, it seemed to signal a
turning point in her own confidence.

However
well she mulled it over, the sense of safety kept impressing itself
upon her and washing away her concerns as irrational and fear-driven.
She knew they had a real basis, but for some reason it was a moot
point and her reasons weren't enough to keep her here. The practical
rumblings of her stomach indicated that now was a time for action.

She
took one last look at the room before slipping out the door, as if in
counterpoint to her decisiveness, Jakob's fever appeared to grow
worse by the moment. His occasional thrashings had grown weaker as if
they had sapped the spirit from him and the beading sweat on his brow
ran in hopeless rivets across his burning face. Whatever illness had
gripped him seemed to be winning the fight against the stubborn
efforts of his body to recover from the wound.
A sudden sense of
urgency drove her to leave the house, she locked the door with
shaking hands and fled at great pace.
The marketplace she
eventually stumbled into was a welcome relief from the confines of
the hideout, the commerce she witnessed put a face to the various
stories she had been told at the inn. Had circumstances been
different she may even have taken in the unfamiliar surroundings with
interest but the pressing need and the nightmare she seemed caught up
in killed any potential curiosity.
She spared little time looking
at the many racks and containers of marine life both living and dead,
settling for a large ceramic pitcher, a meagre loaf of bread and
strips of smoked fish without any haggling.
She felt dangerously
exposed as she queued for the well in the middle of the market,
constantly surveying the many bodies milling about the cobbled
square, the queue seemed to grow with her fears.
A hand tapped her
on the shoulder, causing her to drop the bread in panic. She spun
round and was face to face with an old withered crone.
'You don't
belong here,' the crone spoke in a cracked voice that hissed and
rasped over the words.
Ella floundered for words, still not over
the initial shock. 'I don't?'
The crone nodded with the hint of a
smirk passing over her face. 'I can tell ye see, when someone doesn't
belong. You don't want to be seen and right now you're screaming it
out loud to any that listen.'
She stooped with a groan and handed
Ella the bread. 'You're so preoccupied by your own fears and doubts
that you're letting anyone pass you by without the slightest bit of
protest.' She pointed at the growing queue of women that shuffled
forward. 'Your plight has already been taken advantage of.' Then she
waved a stick-like arm across the market. 'And the local guards are
on alert and appear to have noticed your presence.'
Ella tensed up
at the sight of the approaching men, preparing to sprint away to the
hideout.
The old woman gripped her arm painfully, wrenching her
down to her level. 'No you silly mare. You won't get any further away
from them like that, follow me.'
She pushed her way through the
queue with surprising force, though Ella soon realised that the women
were intentionally yielding their place to the stranger, letting them
converge upon the well.
'Now, fill your pitcher and then we'll
depart, the ladies here don't take kindly to any man shoving their
way through.'
She heard outraged voices and jostling from far
behind her and swiftly filled her jar with water as was asked.
Hanging on to her arm, the old woman steered her away with something
approaching haste. They made their way through a series of confusing
alleyways and to Ella's surprise ended up outside the small room she
had departed earlier.
The woman chuckled at her face and tapped
the small key Ella had hidden on her person. 'You've been watched, I
have to admit that Hermit one led us on a merry chase. He will know
who I am, no doubt you will tell him of our encounter anyway.'
That
same smile seemed to flash across the crone's face briefly as she
peered at her through rheumy eyes, Ella was entirely lost for
words.
'You had best go inside now dear, we know of your plight at
the House of Falarus and all shall be explained to you in time. Just
know that you are not alone, we will speak again later if I have
time.'
The old woman turned abruptly and hobbled off as if nothing
had happened.

T
here
was a period of time that Gadtor always spent letting his eyes adjust
to the light when he was underground in the sewers, it wouldn't do
any good to grope around half-blind to his death. It was when he saw
no improvement that he knew he was encased in true darkness.

He
kept track of the time by listening to the rattling chest and hoarse
wheezes of his aged friend. He had tried waking him to no avail,
whatever had been done to him after they had separated had left his
friend completely immobilised. Occasionally the old man would cough
and splutter as his lungs sought for the next breath, much to
Gadtor's alarm. He was completely powerless should Falarus stop
breathing, yet as that knowledge truly dawned his panic subsided into
idle fear.

He
was strung up on the back wall, his arms and legs spread-eagled and
clasped by manacles. He had tested them initially but they had
remained surprisingly firm considering how deep into the bowels of
the dungeon they were.

Of
course he had heard tales of the explicit cruelty and the vast
corridors of the lower levels under the Urian tower but he had always
taken them with a pinch of salt. The idea that such a labyrinth would
exist entirely unknown to he who spent most of his time dwelling in
the lower regions of the city seemed highly unlikely and the result
of rather exaggerated tales.

He
had no doubt that they had planned a public execution for both of
them, that this was where the most wanted criminals were held. The
reason he had never heard of such a place seemed clear now, anyone
that left this chamber walked to their death.

With
his sight gone and his hearing straining into silence, his sense of
smell took over and he quickly identified the dried blood and faeces
that spelt danger. There was something gangrenous about the air
cloying in his throat, he couldn't help but be unsettled by it
whether it had been planted or not.

A
racking cough from Falarus caused him to instinctively try to turn
his head toward the old man, momentarily forgetting entirely how
futile the act was only for the sense of captivity to wash over him
once more.

'Gadtor,
am I blind?' he heard the familiar cracked voice say.

He
shook his manacles slightly with his stiff arms, they echoed loudly
at his heightened senses. 'I don't know, everything is darkness
here.'

There
was a sigh then, which seemed to sum up all the futility he had felt.
'I feel I must warn you, my most trusted of friends. They are going
to try and divide us in spirit, don't listen to them whatever they
may say to you.'

Not
for the first time, Gadtor didn't understand the cryptic words, was
that fear he heard in them?

'As
if I'd listen to a word of my jailers, those that would see me dead.
Why would they divide us when they have us entirely at their mercy?'

This
elicited another sigh. 'They want you to give your information
freely, they don't know how few are left, they don't know that all
resistance has been crushed and most of all what they do know is that
they must fight an idea with an idea in order to kill it. You will be
the focal point for that new idea.'

Gadtor
shook his head at that. He didn't buy into the political manoeuvring
Falarus knew so much about. Honest words and a sword were all he
needed to make people talk or follow.

'What
will they say? What will they do?'