The Long War 03 - The Red Prince (31 page)

‘So, it’s a full-on invasion now,’ he said, largely to himself. ‘That Red Prince fellow had better be as dangerous as he appears or Tor Funweir is in big trouble.’

‘Let’s just see how much of an invasion they can muster once I’ve killed their mistress,’ replied the Kirin, with a confident grin.

‘We need to get inside the city first,’ Glenwood said, scanning the trench for any signs left by Nanon or Dalian.

When they had parted ways in the Fell, with a vague plan of action, the idea had been for those already in Weir to find a way through which Rham Jas and Glenwood could sneak in unobserved. Attempting to ride through any one of the official gates would likely be suicide, but the assassin was sure there must be numerous other entrances.

Weir had many gates, catering to many different groups of people. The Warder’s Gate, facing north, was for officials and urban soldiers. The Leith Gate, leading to the port side, was barely guarded and the road beyond plunged into the poorest area of the city. The Hawkwood Gate, to the east, was for traders and led to the Grand Market. The only entrance to the old town was through the King’s Gate, a huge bulwark, generally kept closed, through which the lords of Weir travelled.

‘There,’ said Rham Jas, pointing to a collection of loose rocks at the base of the wall. ‘See the mark?’

Glenwood peered into the low trench and could see several parallel cuts just above the pile of rocks.

‘That’s Karesian trail script. They use it in the deserts to help people stay on the safe road.’ He grinned. ‘Dalian’s being funny... it means Kirin only.’

‘Does that mean I can stay outside?’ asked the forger, without any real attempt at humour.

‘No, it does not. I need your assistance once we’re inside. It’s a four-man job – one to rescue my daughter, two to kill the enchantress, and one to get us out of the city once it’s done.’

‘And which of those will I be trusted with?’ he asked.

‘We’ll see,’ replied Rham Jas. ‘Think you’ll be any good in a massive fight?’

‘Er, no,’ he replied.

Rham Jas rode towards the trench. The stone walls were hundreds of years old and solidly built, though at their base there were several low trenches through which slow-running water flowed from the city. They looked to have been formerly part of a moat and, though no longer used defensively, Glenwood could still see the outlet pipes that used to pump water into the gullies. The one Dalian had marked had no water flowing from it. Rham Jas dismounted as he approached. They were close to the Leith Gate and clear of wall guards and patrols.

‘It’s a bit disturbing that this won’t be my first time trudging through other people’s shit and piss,’ said Glenwood, joining his companion on the ground.

Rham Jas looked at him. ‘That sewage pipe in Arnon was mostly water... just a little bit of shit and piss.’

‘And this one, what’s the ratio this time?’

The Kirin peered down, leading his horse into the shallow trench. ‘Looks empty. Rusty if anything.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘I could find one with some shit and piss in it if you’d prefer.’

‘Fuck you, Rham Jas. Let’s just get this over with,’ Glenwood replied, following the assassin.

They quickly tied their horses to rusted steel pipes and stood side by side, looking into the dark passage. Visibility was minimal, but Glenwood could just about make out a broken section a few feet in. It would be tight, but they could probably squeeze through the pipe and drop down into whatever lay under the old outlet.

‘Any idea what’s on the other side of that?’ he asked.

‘Not a clue,’ replied Rham Jas, ‘but I’m sure Dalian wouldn’t lead us into a watch barracks.’

‘And once we’re in?’

‘There’s a tavern I used to work at – not behind the bar, incidentally – called the Dirty Beggar. Dalian knows it and we’ll meet there. Hopefully he’ll have some information for us.’

‘Hopefully,’ agreed Glenwood.

It took a few minutes for them to haul themselves up into the outlet pipe and, with muttered swearing, Rham Jas started to squeeze through the broken section.

‘Putting on weight?’ quipped Glenwood, as the assassin inched his way through the gap, taking care not to wound himself on the jagged metal.

He received a glare in return. Then Rham Jas suddenly grinned and let go of the outlet pipe, dropping down into darkness. Glenwood crawled slowly up to the hole and, placing his hands carefully on the rusted metal, peered after his companion.

‘You alive down there?’

‘Yup,’ replied Rham Jas. ‘It’s just an old warehouse.’

A few sparks of light appeared as the Kirin coaxed a torch into life and illuminated the stone room. It was ridden with cobwebs and rats scattered away from the light. Rham Jas moved away, blowing on the small flame and casting light over the floor. A door came into view, fused to its frame with rust.

‘So Dalian has led us into a room with no way out?’ asked Glenwood, still crouched in the outlet pipe above. ‘That was nice of him.’

‘Stop whingeing, Kale, and get down here. I think there are some loose bricks, should lead us out into the city, north of King’s Folly.’

Glenwood pursed his lips and nodded before starting to negotiate the rusted opening beneath him. ‘Tally ho,’ he muttered.

It took them a few minutes to move the loose bricks and find their way out of the abandoned warehouse. They were nestled against the city walls and surrounded by rusted pipes, snaking up the brickwork and depositing brown water on the cobbles below. A few deserted back roads to the south and they emerged on the northern road, within sight of the watch barracks.

Ro Weir was a mess of a city. Buildings were boarded up, streets were devoid of life, shops were forced to employ armed guards, and Glenwood was startled to see Karesian wind claws and Ro watchmen working side by side. Wooden stocks lined the streets near the Warder’s Gate, the majority occupied by terrified and malnourished Ro, their heads and hands poking through the wood and covered with vegetable matter and excrement.

‘I like a bit of dirt on the street, but this is ridiculous,’ he said, joining Rham Jas as they walked away from the barracks and towards the main bridge that led to the old town. ‘Where’s this tavern of yours?’

‘Near the eastern harbour. Past the market,’ replied the Kirin, making sure his hood was up and his face obscured. His Dokkalfar war-bow was wrapped in a bedroll and his katana was inside his cloak.

‘Try not to look at any wind claws. We don’t want a street fight.’

‘Good plan, I’ll... I’ll do that.’

The street was wide, with shallow trenches indicating cart tracks and cobbled stones marking the walkways either side. Compared with Ro Tiris, where Glenwood had lived for many years, Weir had always been dirty and overcrowded but had made up for those shortcomings by being colourful and full of life. These advantages had disappeared now and all that was left was the dirt.

‘They’ve sucked the life out of two cities,’ said Glenwood, feeling a little patriotic for a change. ‘I’m suddenly glad we helped out in Tiris and Arnon before it got this bad.’

‘We?’ queried Rham Jas, with a smug grin.

‘I helped,’ replied the forger. ‘You couldn’t have got close to either of them without me. Katja the... whatever, and the bitch of death.’

‘You ran off in Leith,’ joked the assassin, gently prodding his companion in the ribs, ‘like the coward you are.’

‘If I’d helped, I’d be dead. They don’t care about me, remember.’

‘Just pointing out that there are still enchantresses to be killed when we’re done in Weir,’ replied Rham Jas. ‘The one in Leith slipped through my tenacious fingers.’

‘One enchantress at a time,’ said Glenwood.

The Kirin nodded towards a side street, leading south past the Grand Market. Though Weir was a wide sprawl of a place, it was filled with narrow alleys and labyrinthine streets, making it a paradise for men who lived on the wrong side of the law.

The two of them cut through the port side, trusting in the Kirin’s sense of direction and staying away from patrolled areas. It felt strange to Glenwood that he had learned to trust in Rham Jas’s abilities over the last few months – from his knack of staying alive to his skill at killing. Even the infuriating man’s quick wits and guile had proven invaluable since they left Ro Tiris all those months ago.

‘Just where I left it,’ said Rham Jas, pointing to a scummy shithouse of a tavern. ‘Ah, it’s good to be back.’

‘Places like this only exist in Weir,’ replied Glenwood, not finding the Dirty Beggar a particularly welcoming establishment.

* * *

The four of them sat in a shady booth in a dark corner. The three men held glasses of wine – a cheap red – and the forest-dweller sipped from a cup of milk. Dalian and Rham Jas were both on edge, furtively looking round the tavern and taking note of patrons who might be enemies. Luckily, they didn’t see anyone who aroused their suspicion. Within a few minutes they had relaxed ever so slightly.

‘I like taverns,’ said Nanon, breaking the silence. ‘Men are funny when they drink.’

‘I think the point is that other people are funnier when you’re drunk,’ replied Glenwood. ‘It’s a shit world, booze makes it slightly less shit.’

‘Profound,’ said Rham Jas, grinning.

‘I believe the intention was to be humorous,’ said Dalian Thief Taker. ‘However, I found it neither profound nor humorous.’ He was just as miserable as Glenwood remembered. ‘Please remain professional.’

‘Sorry, Dalian,’ said Rham Jas, showing his curiously immature fear of the Karesian.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ repeated Glenwood, who did not share his companion’s fear of the man.

‘Can we just discuss the business at hand? Time is important,’ said Dalian.

Nanon was glancing from one to the other as each of his companions spoke. His eyes were narrow and his lips pursed – an expression that might seem gormless on a man, but the forest-dweller looked confused more than anything. ‘See, we’re having fun already,’ he said with a broad smile.

Dalian glared, Glenwood chuckled and Rham Jas patted Nanon on the shoulder. The comment might have been a little naive but it had cut through the tension.

The four of them were in Ro Weir to kill the leader of the Seven Sisters. They were in enemy territory and hunted by people who would think nothing of torturing them to death if they were caught. Rham Jas risked the most, but then he was also the most capable. If his daughter were truly in the city, he also had the greatest motivation. For Dalian, it was a religious matter, a calling from his god, to be treated not as a joke or an adventure but as an essential crusade. Nanon and Glenwood had the least invested in Saara’s death, but Glenwood at least felt bound to this strangest of causes. He had seen enough of the Seven Sisters’ reign in Tor Funweir to know that he didn’t want them entrenched in the lands of Ro. But, try as he might, he couldn’t help but feel he was the weak link among them.

‘If we can begin,’ said Dalian. ‘This will be difficult and each man must know his job. Let us remember what is at stake.’ His eyes were hard and serious.

‘We know what’s at stake,’ replied Rham Jas, averting his eyes from the Thief Taker’s stare.

‘Very good.’ Dalian sat upright and shot a final glance round the tavern. ‘Now, this is what we know. The enchantress resides in the catacombs beneath the knight marshal’s office. Multiple wind claws and Ro guardsmen guard her. She has formed a steadily growing religion based on her Dead God and is frequently surrounded by her devotees.’

‘Not fighters, I would guess?’ asked Rham Jas.

The Thief Taker shook his head. ‘Ro nobles and Karesian merchant princes. They spend their time fucking, taking drugs and cavorting. Saara has dozens of chambers down there in which orgies take place.’

‘I’ve seen one of those orgies,’ interrupted Glenwood. ‘It did not look like the fun kind.’

‘I was speaking,’ snapped Dalian.

‘So how do I get to her? And where’s my daughter?’ asked Rham Jas.

Nanon and Dalian exchanged a glance.

‘The girl is not our priority,’ said the Karesian.

‘She is to me,’ replied Rham Jas.

Dalian was about to reply, a pursed expression of frustration appearing on his face, but Nanon interrupted. ‘She stays with the witch. Getting her out will be difficult.’

‘Is she in the catacombs, too?’ asked the Kirin.

‘Saara’s personal chambers are on the left side of the main room – high-domed and mostly dark. Her body-slave rarely leaves the room.’

‘So we should be able to get to her without running into the enchantress.’

Another look passed between Nanon and Dalian.

‘Stop being furtive,’ snapped Rham Jas. ‘I’m only here if Keisha is part of the plan. If not, you two are welcome to kill the witch without me.’

‘Grow up, Kirin,’ said Dalian. ‘The world is of more importance than your child.’

Rham Jas snarled. He brought himself under control quickly, but for a moment Glenwood saw distress in his eyes.

‘What if I rescue the girl?’ offered the forger. He didn’t know where his sudden courage had come from, just that he should take responsibility for Keisha.

They all looked at him.

‘I mean, I won’t be much use in a drawn-out fight.’

‘Hopefully we can avoid a drawn-out fight,’ replied Nanon, ‘but you are probably best suited for the rescue element of the... plan.’

Dalian shook his head. ‘This is a distraction.’

‘Take it or leave it,’ replied Rham Jas, crossing his arms to make it clear that he’d made up his mind.

The Thief Taker puffed out his cheeks. ‘I suppose it doesn’t make a lot of difference to the plan. And I seem to have little choice.’

The assassin smiled. ‘So, you have a plan?’

Nanon pointed to his bag. ‘In there I have enough black wart to make the city think it’s under serious attack. I can stay hidden better than any of you, so I’ll start blowing stuff up around the duke’s harbour – troop transports, wooden jetties and the like – drawing off as many wind claws and guardsmen as I can. They need the docks to keep their reinforcements rolling in so they should move to protect it. There are also a few hundred Hounds stationed there – I’ll take them out first.’