A Clash of Shadows (12 page)

“Your cousin, you say?” said Anton the Grey. “You care deeply for him?”

Katja didn’t feel up for feigning strong emotion.

“Well, this is all a great embarrassment.”

“Hm, well you know, I get questions like that on occasion. There are always a few people looking for other people who don’t turn to doctors with their wounds. And I have never found it a good policy to be known as a blabbermouth.”

He made an attempt to comb with his fingers.

“It can be bad for the health.”

“I have no reason to blabber myself,” Katja said, but that didn’t seem to move him. “Well then... what if I pay medical expenses for you. Would that make you less worried about your health?”

The man hmm’d and seemed to be going over her clothing.

“Thirty five.”

It felt steep but, after staring into the man’s obstinate eyes she reluctantly untied her purse from her belt. It wasn’t her money after all and she could understand he was wary of talking about his customers.

She counted the coins into her palm and handed over to him. He held his hand out but she kept her fist closed.

“Yes, I treated a man who matches that description of yours,” Anton the Grey said. “Three other men supported him in here and placed him on my table.” He pointed at a table covered by a linen cloth. “He had a day-old cut down along his chest. He declined the liqueur I offered him and just put up with the stitches.” Anton’s face showed some admiration. “He muttered something about probably deserving the pain.”

Yes, he was right about that,
Katja thought.

“But anyway, he should be alive and relatively sound around now.”

Katja loosened her grip enough for a few coins to fall into the man’s palm.

“Good to know,” she said. “But it doesn’t help me much in finding him.”

Anton smiled.

“One of those who brought him, an ugly heavyset fellow, smelled of a swamp and dressed accordingly.” He pointed to the north-east. “And the only swamp I know of around here is that way. The Crescent reaches a bit into it. You could try searching there.”

“Ugly and heavyset you say?”

“With a face like a fist. Black hair and pocked skin.”

Katja let him have the rest of the payment.

“Thank you for being a blabbermouth.”

She left.

--------------------

The Crescent had changed after the warning of the man on the stool. Faces were hostile and alleys hid dangers.

Katja didn’t know the area and had no idea which routes to take to avoid whatever troubles Vajan had tried to cause her.

Would it be safer to be around people so no one would dare attack her in the light of day? Or were the people of the Crescent generally indifferent to such things or too oppressed by criminals to object to public violence, and so she would be better off being unseen?

These were the kinds of things she didn’t know of Farnar and it occurred to her that she would have to learn various things about the lands she stayed in for any time.

But that was a matter for another time. At the moment she wagered on keeping a low profile and what people she did run into seemed quite content to ignore her. She would probably have considered it grumpiness if she hadn’t periodically heard sounds of singing and even dancing in the paths of the Crescent. She was rather curious whether these were unfortunates who had nothing better to do than forget their worries or whether dancing was simply this popular with some of the culture groups living here.

But secrecy was a priority and so she swerved past all of these festivities. She had gotten to dance in the forest village. That would have to do for now.

Finding the swamp was simple. The Crescent began to peter out as she walked farther north-east and she began to see trees. The smell also ruled out all doubt as she drew closer.

The swamp was surprisingly forested, given the proximity to a major city. Perhaps it had been left be, due to how thin and weak most of the trees were. But they sure grew close.

She walked around and tried to look about and yet pretend to still be heading somewhere. Not many people were about, as could be expected. She heard people a short distance away, but the only ones she saw were a withered old woman and children she was watching outside one of the houses.

Perhaps she would think of a good way to ask for a big, ugly man she didn’t know by name but tried using her eyes first.

When she arrived at the edge of the swamp she looked into it and spotted a way through the foliage, a section of solid ground protruding from the water and mud. She stepped closer and saw signs of feet in the earth. It was a path.

Katja walked to the very edge and stared in. On the right was a true wetland, visible through the bars formed by the trees. On the left was just a dense forest and mud. The path vanished from sight before revealing a destination.

Katja approached the old woman.

“Pardon me, where does that path lead?”

“Into the swamp,” the woman answered. “There is some cabin there, or something.”

“You mean a farm?” Katja asked. “Do you think I might find work there?”

“There is no durned farm,” the elder said. “Just trouble. Don’t go poking about. The swamp is dangerous.”

Katja walked away and was careful to be out of sight before going back to the edge.

A cabin in a swamp. Out of the public eye. One could certainly choose a worse place for sorcery and secrecy.

She looked to the west. Serdra was probably still somewhere within the Crescent, asking her own questions. And Katja herself was here. By the swamp.

Is there any harm in looking?
she thought and looked into the spooky net of the thin trunks.
How else will I be ready to stand on my own?

She took the first step before further thoughts could intrude and forced her way between two trees, left of the path. All the leather made journeying through branches and bushes bearable, but it took effort. The grass was thick and well-spiced with fallen branches and after a short while it was replaced with the swamp mud.

Dying on my first private trip would be bitter,
she thought with some dark humour which did nothing to calm her doubts.

She tried to advance without losing sight of the path but the forest only seemed to grow denser as the metres crawled by. She looked back and saw how short a distance all the effort had really gotten her. There was no passage to be seen ahead except for the path. Which was presumably visible from the cabin, or whatever that path lead to.

She sighed and forced her way onto the path. She tried to comfort herself by thinking that on it she could at least react more easily to surprises and that she was out of sight of the Crescent.

Shortly afterwards she saw the cabin on her left. It was nestled in a small clearing, half collapsed and covered in all sorts of vegetation. Katja approached carefully but it turned out to be exactly as deserted as it seemed. This was no one’s safe haven. The plants that had started growing beneath the holes in the roof had been left in peace.

Katja peered farther into the swamp and then closed her eyes.

There was something here. Something unclean. She couldn’t estimate a distance, but felt she had a good grasp on the direction. If she wasn’t on the right track then at least the swamp had some secret.

She took a hesitant step to the north and then another one with more determination. There was no harm in peeking a bit further, was there?

She wanted to draw her sword but kept it hidden under the cloak as she had done so far. People of the Brotherhood wouldn’t necessarily immediately assume she was an enemy if she suddenly encountered them.

The smell of civilization was already smothered beneath the heavy stench of wet earth and rotting vegetation and now the final sounds began to fade out. An occasional shout could be heard, a smack of metal and a poultry gobble.

The swamp received Katja ever further into its bosom as she bent under branches and squeezed through bushes and soon there was nothing to hear but bird song and splashes.

Technically she was still close to the city but it sure felt as if she had stepped into an isolated, alien world.

Strange how little it takes to be absolutely alone.

Her progress was frustratingly slow. The source of the unease turned out to be farther away than she had expected and the swamp never let up on the obstructions. She always intended to peek a bit further, which then became further and further still.

Katja finally stopped after battling to free her foot from mud without losing the boot, leaned up against a tree and sighed a bit.

This wasn’t quite the plan
, she thought and looked back the way she had come. Or at least so she thought. It was difficult to see the sun under these trees.

How long had she been walking? An hour? It was rather late to turn back now.

She wiped sweat from her brow, gathered her strength and continued.

A few steps later she stopped in her tracks. She could glimpse a building through hanging branches and a web of growth.

Katja looked about and finally spotted a way into the thicket. She slipped between two inclining trees and breathed a bit easier.

She creeped slowly forwards and found a bush that could conceal her when she knelt and watched the cabin through the leaves.

There it sat, on a bit of a mound protruding from the swamp mud. A flat, squat cabin built from the narrow trunks characteristic of the swamp and covered in vegetation. The path to it lay to the southern side. She heard muddy footsteps and a man emerged from the north side carrying a bundle of thick branches.

She knew the face. It was Leifur.

He placed the branches next to a stump and pulled a wood axe out of it with some difficulty. He stood and took a few moments to recover, clearly in pain, and then began to chop the wood.

Katja looked at the cabin again. This could hardly be considered a home. Had he been cast out after the bungled summoning?

Wouldn’t he ask for aid if there were someone inside?

The thought took root within her and drove her on. She slipped from her vantage point and closer to the cabin’s north side, where he couldn’t spot her as easily. Then she fought to exit the foliage without noise and tried to time her steps with the axe blows.

Eventually she set foot on clear ground and drew her sword.

Finally
, she thought.

She snuck to the corner separating them and still took advantage of the axe blows. They stopped a moment before she could quite reach it and she thought she heard him put it away.

She ran around the corner with the sword at the ready.

Something rose from the mud. Something with the shape of a man, covered in dead plants and with a spark of unnature within itself the aura of this place had hidden. It moved between them in three long, quick steps and raised its arms to strike.

Katja reacted as she had been taught. She lit the Sentinel Flame in front of herself and the muddy monster stopped in mid-step. Katja stepped through the Flame and struck. The monster had been unbalanced and could do nothing before she beheaded it.

Leifur dove for the axe with the agility of an injured man. Katja caught him before he got the weapon and drove her left fist right into his cut. She then kicked him in the knee before he could finish the scream and brought him down on his side. She dropped down, seized his left wrist and twisted the arm away and pressed the sword tip to his throat.

“Did that hurt?” she asked as he coughed. “More than a stab to the throat?”

“Red pest!” Leifur hissed and glared at her. She wasn’t sure which outweighed the other, fear or hatred, but the mixture was quite toxic.

“What are you lot up to?” she said. “What happened on that road?”

“I will give nothing away!” the man spat. “You will kill me regardless! It is in your nature!”

“Don’t you want to at least try?”

“Shove that sword up your crack, I know what awaits me! You never leave us be!”

Katja snorted and gave him a cold smile.

“Why leave you be? Many have died because of your fumble,” she said with bitter mockery. “Not to mention the boy you cut on purpose.”

“A drop in the ocean,” Leifur said. “There are plenty more. One stands with one’s own and no other.”

“You stand together, eh?” Katja said. “That must be the reason you are a united force that has long since conquered the Inner Sea rather than fight like cats in the night.”

“We were fighting the Night Hand, stupid child!” Leifur said through his teeth.

Katja hesitated. The statement chilled her.

“Did that shake you up, girl?” Leifur said with his own bitter mockery. “Have you met such foes?”

“What do you know of them?” Katja asked and felt herself lose her grip on the hard tone. “What happened?”

“Stab me,” Leifur said and tilted his chin back, “and find out for yourself.”

Katja hesitated again. His eyes were hard. Would the toughness hold up if she did stick him? It would be just fate. It was the one he’d inflicted on the boy.