4 City of Strife (12 page)

“I would not want to carry around the things you know in my head,” she said.

“They keep me alive.”

“This evening it sounds like it was the boy Jan who did that.”

Kormak nodded. “I owe him for that.”

“So there really are monsters loose in the city.”

“At least two,” said Kormak. “The Silent Man and the Beast.”

“You think you can kill them both,” Lila asked. “Before they kill you.”

“Somebody is going to have to.”

“Why you?”

“Because I am best qualified for the job.”

“I mean why do you do it.” Kormak thought about that for a moment. He thought about his father, slaughtered trying to protect him from the Old One. He thought of Master Malan and what the order had given him. He thought about the immortal demon who had sworn to kill him when he was still just a child. He looked up and met Lila’s gaze.

“Because I swore an oath when I took up this sword. To protect the innocent. To uphold the Law. To oppose the Shadow.”

“Do people really keep such oaths?”

“I have done all my adult life.”

She sat down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. When she spoke her voice was low. “Why do you really do it?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He got up and walked over to the sideboard, poured himself a goblet of water. Without the proximity of her body, without the bed clothes, it was cold. The chill made it easier to remember.

“When I was eight years old an Old One came to my village. His name was Prince of Dragons. He killed everyone except me. Every man, woman and child, every baby, every dog. He killed my father. My mother. My brothers. He came into the loft where my father had thrown me in an attempt to save my life. He was carrying my father’s head in his left hand. I attacked him with one my father’s old hammers. He let me hit him just to show it would have no effect. I expected to die then but he let me live.”

“Why?” It sounded like she had to force the words out.

“He told me that he would come back for me some day and on that day he would kill me. I could count on that.”

“That’s terrible.”

“This Old One has done it many times through history. Wiped out entire communities, and left one child alive to tell the tale. Often he has come back when the child was older. Sometimes not. It’s a game he liked to play, he likes to torment humans.”

“You think he will come for you?”

“I hope he comes for me,” said Kormak. He reached out for the hilt of his blade. “There is a blood-debt to repay, for my kin.”

“How did you survive, a little boy on your own in the Aquilean mountains?”

“A man was pursuing the Old One, a man who was not afraid of a monster that could wipe out an entire village of warriors.”

“A Guardian of the Order of the Dawn,” she said, guessing before he could say it.

Kormak nodded. “His name was Malan. He asked me what had happened. I could not even speak. When he left, he took me with him. We could not find the Old One’s trail so he took me back to Mount Aethelas.”

He put the sword down, returned to the bed, reached out and stroked her hair. He tilted his head to one side, smiled. “The Order took me in, trained me, sent me out into the world to do its business. It suited me and I was good at it.”

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Poor man,” she said.

She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He touched her shoulder. “It does not matter,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”

He shrugged of her grip and stood up, glanced around the chamber. “The Beast and the Silent Man, which did you hear of first?”

“Why?” She seemed taken aback by his abrupt change of tone.

“I want to know if there is some connection. It seems an unlikely coincidence that two such beings should appear in the city at the same time.”

“The Silent Man was first. At the start of the summer. It looked like the Oldbergs would win their war with the Krugmans until he showed up. They had more money and more men. He turned things around. For a time it looked like all the other merchant houses were going to side with the Oldbergs. They always like to be with the winner. After the Silent Man came they went neutral again.”

“When did you hear about the Beast?”

“In the late summer, maybe early autumn, that’s when the rumours started. Or at least they reached me.”

“That would be about the same time as the cats started disappearing and the rats multiplied.”

“Yes. You think there is a connection?”

“Again, it is an unlikely coincidence.”

“You are starting to frighten me,” she said.

“There’s nothing to fear, I am here,” he said, reaching out for her.

“But what about when you are not,” she said, moving into his arms and kissing him.

The next morning, after he had visited the shrine of Saint Verma, Kormak made his way to the cell of Frater Lucian.

“Come to make another offering, brother?” said Lucian as Kormak entered his chamber. He got up from his stool, moved around the desk, went to the arched window, looked out, moved to the door, looked into the corridor, closed the door and ushered Kormak in. Kormak went over and checked the window himself, and then remained there so he would have a view of the courtyard outside.

“Yes,” said Kormak loudly. Lucian moved over to stand beside him. There was a worried look on his long, bony face. His fingers writhed for a moment before he locked them together as if in prayer.

“Have you made any progress?” Lucian asked.

“I encountered the Silent Man and I know there is some form of were-beast in the city. It stalked me last night.”

Lucian’s features went even more pale. His mouth tightened into a compressed line. He seemed to be trying to pull his hands apart and be unable to for a moment.

“You met the Silent Man?”

“He is one of the unliving.”

“That means a necromancer.”

“Or someone who more than dabbles in the dark arts.”

“And a were-beast? Are they the same person do you think?”

“No. I think one of them works for the Krugmans. I don’t know about the other yet. Maybe. It may simply just be taking advantage of the chaos in the city.”

“Whatever it is doing it is no good thing. All of the skin-turners are Moon worshippers.”

“Those that do not follow the Shadow, at least,” said Kormak.

“That’s hardly reassuring. You think it is a werewolf?”

“No. A city like Vermstadt is not their usual hunting ground. The rats are numerous and aggressive. Cats have been disappearing.”

“You think it may be a ratkin then?”

Kormak nodded.

“The ratkin are also known as the children of Murnath,” said Lucian. “This city was sacred to him in the days before the Blessed Verma drove the Old Ones out.”

“Murnath has not been seen for nigh on two thousand years,” said Kormak. “Saint Verma destroyed him or so it is recorded.”

“He bred a lot of children,” said Lucian. “The ratkin skin-turners. This city was a sacred spot to them once. Periodically throughout history they surface again and again.”

“What more can you tell me?”

“Not much but there may be something in the Council Archives. Or the archives in the Prelate’s palace. Either way, I should be able to get access to them. There must be something useful there.”

“Find out everything you can about the Cult of Murnath and its connection with the city.”

Lucian nodded then licked his lips nervously, as if caught between his fear and his desire to be about his business.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Kormak said. “Time is getting short.”

“What about you?”

“I am going to visit my new employers,” said Kormak. “They may have something new to tell me.”

Karsten was in an expansive mood. He strode across the great carpet in his study, planted himself with his feet astride the symbol of the sun, tilted his golden head upwards and said, “Tonight we strike at the Krugmans and put an end to them once and for all.”

Balthazar’s lips twisted into something that might have been a smile or might have been a sneer.

“How do you propose to do that?” Kormak asked.

“A servant in my pay will throw open the house doors to us. Our men will enter and put all of the Krugmans to the sword. Balthazar assures me the Silent Man will not be able to stop us.”

“He may not be so badly hurt he cannot rise,” Kormak said.

“Balthazar has duplicated the amulets of safety. Even if he rises he will not attack us.”

Balthazar nodded and smiled, a pet whose master had rewarded it with a treat. The black-clad man would be well-rewarded for that discovery, if he had not already been.

Kormak considered his options. He was certain that the Krugmans were practising necromancy. This would be the simplest way to get rid of that threat, even if it meant massacring the whole family.

“Jurgen has children,” Kormak said.

“And a wife,” agreed Karsten, “else he would not have been able to breed his gets.”

“Sir Kormak is perhaps too tender hearted to do what must be done,” said Balthazar. There was a mocking note in his scratchy voice.

“I will not kill innocents,” said Kormak. “If that is what you mean.”

Karsten nodded as if Kormak had just confirmed a judgement of his. He looked pleased.

“If you will not do it, I am sure Lord Karsten can find someone who will,” Balthazar said.

“I mean I will not stand by and let it happen,” said Kormak. The words were torn from him and he cursed inwardly. He was doing his position no good by blurting such things out. He could help no one if Karsten ordered him killed.

Karsten studied him closely. He looked more bearish than ever. There was a kind of sleepy menace in his manner. “Sir Kormak was a knight once if I am not mistaken. He points out the course of honour to us and he is right to. We need not make war on children or women for that matter. All adult males must die though. Do you find that acceptable?”

There was something in his manner that told Kormak not to trust him. Karsten must have sensed his thoughts. “The children will need a guardian, someone the Council will appoint to manage their wealth for them till they are old enough to manage it themselves.”

“And you think the Council will appoint you?”

“I am certain of it. With a word in the right ear and the promise of a division of the spoils among interested parties it will all be arranged.”

“The children would end up paupers.”

“At least they would not be dead, Sir Kormak. Come now, I have shown you I have good reason to spare them and if they are destitute they can be no threat to me. I have no reason to have them . . . removed from the scene.”

At least not until you have plundered their wealth, Kormak thought. His self-control had returned and he kept his mouth shut. “Very well,” Kormak said.

“Good,” said Karsten. “Fight well tonight and you will be a very wealthy man by the morning. You will have enough to buy off any blood on your hands at the shrine of the saint and still live like a prince for years to come.”

“You are very generous.”

“Indeed. This is one fee that Jurgen won’t be able to guess or match. And, please do not even think about trying to get him to do so.”

“I would not dream of it.”

“It would be best if you did not. Oh by the way, I have a visitor. I understand he is a friend of yours.” He rang a bell on the table. Jan entered the room.

Karsten picked up a golden letter opener and went to stand over by the boy. The letter opener’s blade glittered in his hand. It was very near the boy’s neck. Kormak understood the message. If he tried to warn Jurgen, Jan’s throat would be cut.

“He tells me he saved your life last night,” Karsten said. Jan looked at once ashamed and proud, as if unsure whether he should have claimed such credit for a deed he was very proud of. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Kormak said.

“Then he should be rewarded,” said Karsten slapping the boy on the back jovially and tossing him a silver coin. Jan’s eyes widened.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

“Any friend of Sir Kormak is a friend of mine,” Karsten said. “Now run along boy and tell my cellar master to give you a page’s uniform and a good meal. We can surely find some work for you around here.” Jan bowed clumsily and gratefully and turned and ran out.

Karsten turned back to Kormak. “A quick boy that. We will be able to make something out of him one way or another.”

Kormak kept his face impassive. “You said we are going to attack the Krugman’s tonight.”

Karsten smiled. “We meet at the Golden Bear tavern. There will be a feast for my followers or so the word will be put about. The men will assemble and we will strike hard and fast at the Krugmans.”

“Very good,” Kormak said.

“Till tonight then,” he said.

A MONK ENTERED the Gilded Lion. He wore the habit of Saint Verma. He walked up to the bar, talked with the barman who pointed at Kormak then came over. “You are Sir Kormak?”

Kormak nodded.

“I have a message for you from Frater Lucian. He seemed to think it was urgent. He insisted I get it to you by Vespers although how he expected me to find you if you were not here, I do not know . . .”

“You have the message?” Kormak was keen to stop the man. He looked capable of simply rambling on.

The monk produced a rolled up scroll from within his sleeve. The wax seal did not look as if it had been tampered with. The monk waited, head tilted to one side as if he either expected something or was curious to see what Lucian had written. Kormak dropped a silver shilling in his hand. “For your trouble, brother.” The monk recoiled as if insulted.

He sat back in the chair and the man still watched him. “You can put the money in the poor box if you wish. Best return and tell Frater Lucian that you have given me his message.”

The monk nodded. “Of course. Blessings of the Sun upon you.”

“And you, frater,” Kormak said. He broke the seal and unrolled the message. It was written in Frater Lucian’s shaky hand. It read,
Meet me in the Council Archives. Come at once! I have found something of dreadful import. It is matter of life and death, for you, for me, for everyone in the city.