The Price of Faith (36 page)

They were now just a few weeks travel from Absolution and from Kessick and already Thanquil could feel his gut churning. He was unsure of the heretic’s forces, unsure of whether their little band could get close enough to deal a killing blow and unsure whether he had the courage and will power to go through with Inquisitor Vance’s plan should he be unable to kill Kessick. The plan had more ifs, buts and maybes than a sinking ship had fleeing rats but there was too much at stake should he fail. A few heretics inside the Inquisition was one thing but Kessick was forming an army of demons in human form and should he ever lose control, Thanquil had no doubt that army would sweep across the world causing untold destruction. Only the Inquisition was able to deal with such a threat and, while they had the tools, Thanquil was no longer certain the council of Inquisitors had the fortitude for such a fight.

“You know, I think we could do business together, you and I,” Anders slurred at Thanquil from the other side of the table. His eyes were lidded but bright as though feverish and he pointed a four-fingered hand at Thanquil, the little finger ending in a small stump.

Thanquil simply narrowed his eyes in response causing the drunkard to grin. “I’ve been watching you, my good man, and I’ve noticed you like to…” he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, “take things that aren’t yours. I too am fairly proficient in that particular field of procurement. Perhaps we might collaborate?”

Rilly sucked at her teeth then spat a small bone onto the table. “Thorn might not understand ya when ya throw around ya fancy vocabulary like that, Anders but I sure as fuck do an’ Thorn said no attention.”

Anders simpered. “My dear with a face as droll as yours and a mouth as eloquent as a chamber pot you draw all the attention we could ever not require.”

“Fuck you.”

“My point entirely. Besides what the boss does not know… hmmm?”

Thanquil shook his head. “I’m not sure why I’d want to participate in such an exercise, Anders,” he paused. “I have this feeling I’ve met you before.”

The drunkard paled. “Well we have just spent no small amount of time locked together in close quarters on a ship in a cabin the size of an outhouse. Besides, I’ve heard all us blooded folk look the same. Strong bone structure in the face, I believe. Now generally one partakes in the art of lifting to attain things that are not, in the strictest sense, theirs. The advancement of one’s monetary stockpile is also something of an incentive.

“I myself am well able to spend an inordinate amount of money in a miraculously short period of time.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice even further. “The expenditure of money is something of a speciality of mine.”

“That’s why Thorn don’t let ya nowhere near the coffers,” Rilly said with a smug grin.

Anders nodded drunkenly. “And the boss is quite right to insist on such a precaution. However it does leave me with the awkward need to fund a very expensive habit I have spent a considerable amount of time nurturing.”

Rilly sent a withering glance at Thanquil. “Anders has a habit of getting himself beat up.”

The drunkard snorted. “And far worse. I have suffered more injuries since meeting the boss than in the entire previous years of my life combined. Many of them doled out by this little vixen right here.”

Rilly stuck out her tongue. “Shouldn’t try ta touch me when I’m sleepin’.”

“You don’t tend to complain when you’re awake, quite the opposite in fact, why should the tenuous matter of your consciousness make any difference?” Rilly opened her mouth to reply but Anders forged on. “Besides, that was not the habit to which I was referring. Drink, my good girl. Alcohol.”

“Wouldn’t mind a couple more my own self,” Rilly agreed.

“Precisely. You’re far more agreeable when drunk. As, I assure you, am I.”

Thanquil laughed and fished a silver bit out of his pocket. He set the coin spinning on the wooden table. “Knock yourselves out.”

Anders grinned wide and scooped the coin into his hand. “Oh I intend to try.”

Both Rilly and Anders turned out to be excellent drinking partners but unlike the little woman Thanquil did not try to match Anders drink for drink. He was happy to get drunk and sincerely hoped that in doing so he could stave off the demon dreams but he had no intention of getting so inebriated he lost control. An Arbiter not in control was a disaster waiting to happen, especially one currently under the subversive influence of a demonic sword and Thanquil had no doubt he was under the blade's influence to some degree. His dreams were proof of that. He doubted the drinking would work but at least it was fun to try.

The three traded stories, quips and in Anders' and Rilly's case meaningful glances. The relationship there was obvious if not obtrusive and only seemed strange in that Anders' looked to be at least twice Rilly's age. Not that Thanquil had cause to comment; Jezzet was was only slightly older than half of his age even if it didn't look that way. His faith and Volmar's magic made him age more slowly as it did all Arbiters.

By the time the Black Thorn and the rest of his crew returned Rilly was sat in Anders' lap whispering in his ear and giving the occasional wriggle. Anders in turn seemed to be doing his level best to ignore the little woman and carry on telling a story about how he had once escaped the siege of Fairweather, a small port settlement in the pirate isles, by hiding himself in a chest.

“...I made certain to bury myself under a pile of ladies' dresses of course. Quite why the pirates decided to take that chest I'm unaware but I have to say I'm glad they did. I much prefer surviving to burning alive in a raised town. Gave them the fright of their lives when they opened the chest aboard their ship though, let me tell you.”

Anders quieted as Thorn sat down at the table but Rilly paid them no attention, proceeding to chew on the drunkard's ear. Ben pulled up a chair with a laugh and Henry sat down next to Thanquil shooting him a meaningful shrug in the direction of the others. Thanquil returned the shrug in kind and Henry grinned at him. He couldn't help but marvel at the change in the woman from the angry little ball of hate and murder who had once professed to hating witch hunters and who had also once tried to stab Jezzet on a bridge over the river Jorl. The Honin did not sit, Suzku took up position behind Henry and she gave him the barest smile from underneath her hat.

A quiet murmur spread throughout the tavern and plenty of gazes turned towards them. It seemed the folk of Farpoint were not unaware of the Black Thorn's presence in their town.

“You two done?” Thorn asked.

Anders only cleared his throat but Rilly looked over her shoulder at her boss. “For you, Thorn, anything,” she slurred and disentangled herself from Anders lap walking around the table to the Black Thorn. The big man grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her down onto the chair next to him. She pouted but said nothing else.

“Left ya here ta stop 'em gettin' into trouble, Thanquil,” Thorn said with a grin. Thanquil merely waved his own tankard at the man in response. “Right ya are then. Wouldn't mind me a drink too.”

“My treat,” said Six-Cities Ben and jumped up, sauntering towards an overweight barmaid with a face like a pig's arse.

“Good news an' bad,” the Black Thorn said. “Ain't far ta Absolution an' from here out it's a straight ride. Pick up supplies we need fer the trip tomorrow mornin' an' we'll be gone by sun up. That'd be the good news. Bad is I managed ta have a word with a man been through Absolution jus' a month back. Says there's hundreds o' town folk these days, many as there's ever been, likely more. He also says that ain't none of 'em right. Creepy, he called 'em. Unnaturally quiet an' a few of 'em damned crazy ta boot. They sound possessed ta you?”

Thanquil nodded slowly. “Could be.”

“Well seven of us against a fuckin' army don't strike me as the best of odds, Thanquil. Reckon we might need a plan once we get there an' I seem ta remember yours tend ta involve suicide.”

Thanquil snorted. “We all survived Hostown.”

“The Boss didn't,” Henry said from underneath her hat, the giant royal blue feather bobbing as she spoke.

“He was dead before we arrived at Hostown, he just hadn't figured it out yet. No one died in Sarth either.”

Thorn tapped the eye patch covering his left eye.

“But you're not dead!” Thanquil pointed out.

“All the same. Reckon we might approach this one with a bit more subtlety than ya known fer, Thanquil.”

Ben hurried back to the table not carrying any drinks but with a grave look on his face. “Commotion on the main street in town. Man in robes ignoring the guards. Sounds like a chance to make some money, boss.”

Thorn nodded and sniffed loudly. “Might be. Reckon we can find time. Might as well check it out.” He turned to look at Thanquil. “Towns like this ain't real large, pretty much one dirt road an' a few buildings. Also happens the guards ain't real used ta dealin' with problems. Folk like us can make a fair bit of bits helpin' out when trouble starts.”

Thanquil nodded, joining the others as they stood and made for the door to the tavern. “I seem to remember a time when you were the one starting that trouble.”

Thorn snorted. “'Cos you witch hunters never cause any bloody trouble.”

The main street of Farpoint was just as Thorn had said, a dirt road a little bigger than the other dirt roads and more frequently travelled. The buildings either side were squat, ugly things made of hard wood and held together by rusted nails and a vigilant disregard for safety and maintenance. Unlike most places Thanquil had been to in the wilds Farpoint did not sport walls; D'roan kept his province free from bandits in return for extortionate taxes and though folk weren't happy about it, they paid all the same. Better to pay than to risk the lord's wrath and find out that those same men paid to protect you were the ones robbing you blind.

Folk crowded out onto the porches of their houses and shops and the local whore house. Thanquil and Thorn's crew were not the first to make their way out of the inn and had to jostle for space on the tavern's porch though the sight of Thorn and Suzku towering over everyone made most folk slink away to find more crowded spots.

The night was bright, lit by an uncountable number of stars and a moon that seemed as large as the sun. Pointless lanterns hung from each doorway and provided little to no extra light but folk hung them out all the same. Insects buzzed toward the light and Thanquil supposed that might be one reason for them.

In the centre of the street, walking slowly, calmly and non-threatening was a single figure as tall as Thorn and dressed in long, voluminous black robes, their face hidden completely in shadow. All around the figure armed guards danced, threatening with their weapons and ordering the person to halt and state their business or turn around and leave. The  figure remained silent and did not stop.

“I don't understand why the guards are so threatened,” Thanquil said.

“People don't much like the unknown, Arbiter,” Six-Cities Ben said loudly. Thanquil suspected he did so that those nearby would know a witch hunter was around. Might be the knowledge would calm some folk but Thanquil also suspected it would only make matters worse.

“People don't like folk in robes neither,” said Henry. “Makes 'em nervous.”

The robed figure continued on, heading straight down the street as if the whole town hadn't gathered to watch. One of the guards, either one more brave or more foolish darted forward in front of the figure, waving a rusty-looking short sword. The guard looked up into the hood of the robed figured and skidded to a halt, dropping his sword and scrabbling away as fast as he could. The brave, foolish guard didn't stop scrabbling away until he was long out of sight and all the while the robed figure kept on walking.

As Thanquil and the Black Thorn's crew watched an imperial looking man wearing a faded uniform of the D'roan family colours walked out of the whore house and fixed his stare on the walking robe.

“Guard cap'n,” Henry said with a sneer in her voice.

Thanquil looked down at the little murderess. “He's inspiring me with confidence already.”

Henry set to laughing and Thorn spoke over her. “Useless bastard might try ta fight, might just ask fer volunteers. Either way reckon we're 'bout ta make some bits. Robed fella walks like he knows what he's about.”

“How can ya be sure it's a he,” Rilly slurred squinting at the figure in the road. “Could be a fuckin' lass fer all you know.”

Thorn didn't even spare the drunken woman a glance. “Only woman I ever seen that big died in Hostown an' if Deadeye's come back from the grave I reckon we all best believe hell is followin' her.”

“Halt!” shouted the guard captain without actually getting close to the robed figure. “I said HALT!”

Thanquil noticed one of the man's shoes was unlaced and he had a smear of red from a woman's lips across his cheek. His nose was straight as a knife edge, a testament to his lack of experience as far as Thanquil was concerned, and his hair was thinning and oiled back across his head. An old sword, likely only drawn for ceremony, rattled in it's scabbard at his side and the belt from which it hung was unfastened.

“I put two silver bits on the robe,” Thanquil said.

The Black Thorn rasped out a chuckle. The robed man stopped walking and looked directly at them.

“Good,” said the guard captain nodding and glancing around at the assembled townsfolk. “I hereby order ya to state your business.”

The robed man lifted a single hand and pointed towards the Black Thorn's crew. Thorn silently took a step sideways, the finger followed him.

“Friend of ours?” Six-Cities Ben asked.

Thorn snorted. “Reckon every friend I got is on this side of the finger.”

“Enemy then?”

“Got a fair few of 'em. Most wouldn't bother with the pointin' 'less there was a blade flyin' my way.”

“This one's colours are maddening,” said Suzku from behind. “I see a swirling maelstrom of emotion with no end and no restraint.”

There was a moment's silence. “That right there was some philosophical shit,” Rilly slurred.