Shadow Blizzard (68 page)

As for Egrassa, he had unexpectedly become the head of the House of the Black Rose. Tresh Epilorssa had been killed in the battle of the Field of the Fairies, so the leafy crown had passed to Miralissa’s cousin. And now Egrassa was with the dark elves who had come to fight for Valiostr but, according to Kli-Kli, he was going to return to Zagraba in a couple of weeks.

Eventually, after I’d told the magicians my story darkness only knows how many times, they gave up and said I could push off.

*   *   *

“Hot pies here! Get your hot pies here!”

“The valiant army of Valiostr!”

“Have you heard? Yesterday in the Port City they knocked off a carriage full of gold!”

“What would a carriage full of gold be doing in the Port City?”

“They say the ships from Isilia are going to come three times as often.”

“Praise be to the king, if he hadn’t—”

“Long live the king!”

“Is it true the dark elves have killed all the orcs and now they’ve gone to war with the dwarves?”

“You must be a real fool, brother, to go around spreading nonsense like that!”

“Hot pies here!”

Nothing changes in our world. It was only a month and a half since the end of the war, but the people were already enjoying their favorite pastime—gossiping.

Mid-January was incredibly cold and snowy, but that didn’t bother the citizens at all, and the streets were full of people having a good time. They were celebrating the latest victory: The army had pushed the last of our enemies back beyond the Lonely Giant.

I had a meeting with our entire group planned for late that evening in one of the taverns of the Inner City. At last we would have a chance to get together again. But that was in the evening, and right now I had absolutely nothing to do. My little trip to distant parts had left me completely out of touch with what was going on in the city, and now I needed to catch up with things. And I had to look for a new lair, too.

When I checked to satisfy my curiosity, I found the Knife and Ax still standing in the same old place. Despite the battering it had taken during that famous fight the previous summer, the tavern looked as good as new. The holes made in the walls by the demon had been skillfully patched up, and the entire building looked as if Vukhdjaaz had never come within a hundred yards of it. Even the sign was still the same. I pushed the door of the establishment open and walked in.

I didn’t know the thugs standing at the entrance, but they obviously knew me very well, and let me in without any questions, as good as saluted me, in fact. The large hall had been repaired and now it was as noisy and crowded as ever. All the tables and benches were occupied by the brotherhood of thieves and rogues of various shades and hues. Serving wenches scurried about between them, carrying food and beer.

Of course everyone pretended they didn’t recognize me, although I saw surprise and even fright in some faces. I nodded to two or three of my acquaintances and headed straight for the bar.

Old Gozmo was there at his usual battle station. When the old rogue saw me, he almost had a stroke. The expression on his long face became even more miserable and the former thief turned white and crimson by turns. Finally he managed to mumble, “Harold?”

“Glad you haven’t forgotten me, Gozmo.”

“How the … Where did you come from?”

“Meaning?” It looked as if not everyone was very pleased to see me.

“Well,” said Gozmo, confused, “they said you’d left Avendoom forever. Like For.”

“Who said?”

“Everybody said so. I’m glad to see it’s not true.…”

I believed that, of course.

“I see business is still the same as usual.”

“No thanks to you,” the innkeeper muttered. He seemed to have recovered from his surprise. “I believe you saw what Markun’s lads and the Doralissians and that monster did to the place? Do you know how much money it cost me to fix everything? Aren’t you afraid I might send you the bill?”

“No, I’m not,” I said with a smile.

That smile made Gozmo hold his tongue.

“Surely you agree, Gozmo, that a bit of damage to the tavern is better than having your reputation ruined, Markun chasing you, or maybe even losing your life?”

“You’re a plague, Harold.”

“I do my best. Is my table free?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Beer. Black.”

I laughed as I set out for my table. To be quite honest, Gozmo had only got what he deserved that night. But I was still glad to know the sly old dog and his establishment were alive and well.

The beer was brought to me, and for the next few minutes I did nothing but enjoy it. Then suddenly someone sat down in the empty chair beside me. I looked up from my beer mug and glanced at the face of my uninvited guest. Small, with dark hair, bushy eyebrows that ran together above his nose and a stony face.

Oho! What an important personage had decided to honor me with his presence! Urgez, the head of the Guild of Hired Assassins in person!

“Beer?” I asked him.

“Thank you, some other time,” he said.

I wondered what he wanted.

“The word was out that you were back in town—I decided to check.”

“Rumors certainly spread fast.” It was less than ten minutes since I appeared in the Knife and Ax, and the entire underworld of the city already knew about it.

“Yes, rumors, that’s what I wanted to have a word with you about. If you have no objections, master thief?”

“None at all, master assassin.” It’s always best to be polite with people like Urgez.

“There was a rumor going round that a certain hired assassin was trying to get your head. They also say that the shrine of Sagot was attacked. A few brave young fellows tried to get to old man For. I want to tell you that those men have nothing at all to do with the guild. My lads have no reason to get on the wrong side of the thieves, and certainly not the servants of Sagra.”

“I know they weren’t your lads.”

“Well, that’s just grand. I also want to say, from myself, that the guild has a couple of questions to ask this vagrant. They say he made use of my name, and I don’t like that. So we’re looking for him.”

“Don’t bother. He won’t cause you any more trouble.”

“All the better.” The head of the guild was not surprised in the slightest. “Keep well, Harold.”

“And you, Urgez.”

The head of the assassins had done what he came for, and he left. To be honest, I was glad that Urgez’s lads had nothing to do with the attempts on my life that had almost dispatched me to the light last summer. Fighting with Urgez was bad for the health.

“Mind if I take a seat?”

It looked like this was my day for unexpected visitors. This time it was Sheloz standing beside the table. With six beefy young bodyguards hovering behind him.

“Please, sit down.”

Sheloz sat down, the bodyguards remained standing.

“The word was out that you were back in town—I decided to check.”

Were they in this together, or what? For those who don’t know, Sheloz was the lad who was fighting Markun for the right to run the Guild of Thieves.

“I’m back.”

“I’ve always respected you, Harold.…”

“Likewise.”

Sheloz was a pretty decent man and thief. I thought the guild would be a lot better off under his management than with Markun.

“I know you’ve had difficulties with the guild in the past, but then, haven’t we all? That fat swine Markun just stole all the money for himself. But everything’s different now. So I want to tell you that if you should feel the desire to return to the bosom of the old hearth and home, we’ll be glad to see you. Naturally, we’ll take you without any membership fees or levies on your Commissions.”

“An honorary member?” I laughed.

“Why not? Respected masters of the trade shouldn’t have to pay to work. It’s enough for them to be members of the guild and make its reputation.”

“Why so generous all of a sudden, Sheloz?”

“Well…” He hesitated. “To lay my cards on the table, Harold, I’m personally obliged to you for getting rid of Markun. And so are lots of the lads, believe me. With that fat leech gone, everything’s taken a turn for the better. Consider it a little token of my gratitude. I don’t like being in anyone’s debt. So you think about coming back.”

“All right. I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent. See you around, master thief.”

“See you around.”

*   *   *

It was dark and there weren’t so many people around now. It had started snowing. There was no wind and the snowflakes glided smoothly down onto the pavement in absolute silence. Ah, darkness! I must have sat in Gozmo’s establishment a bit longer than I meant to. I had to hurry.

I set off through the side streets to take a shortcut. Although, in a rather large percentage of cases, strolling through the alleys of the Port City could lead to the loss of your purse, or even your life, if you were inexperienced. So as I threaded my way through the dark and empty spaces, I kept my wits about me and one hand on my crossbow. There’s always some greedy idiot desperate to get his hands on other people’s money.

But Sagot was good and I didn’t meet anyone on the way. Although at one point I had the great pleasure of running into a unit of guards. The lads watched me go by with extremely uncharitable expressions on their faces, but they didn’t ask any questions this time. I turned into Stinking Bedbug Street, came out onto the Street of the Apples, cut across Little Sour Street, turned into a dark archway, and …

And then someone very deft took a very strong grip on my shoulders from behind. I gave a jerk and reached for my weapon, and the stranger immediately blocked my movement with one hand and squeezed my neck so tight with the other that I could hardly even breathe, let alone struggle. The lad behind me was monstrously strong.

“Your weapon probably wouldn’t be any use to you, Harold,” a mocking voice said, and I shuddered and stopped trying to resist.

The Messenger! May the darkness devour him!

“Mmmm? I see you’ve recognized me, thief. Well, that’s all to the good. I’ll let you go now, but don’t think of doing anything stupid. You’re an intelligent man, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“All right then,” the Master’s chief servant chuckled. “I see you got the Horn.”

“Believe it or not,” I said, desperately trying to figure out what he could want from me. “You and your lord didn’t think I could manage it, did you?”

Another quiet chuckle.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harold. Do you think the Master doesn’t know which way the Game is going to go? You only had the Horn because he wanted it that way.”

The powerful brute released his grip and I took a step away from him and turned round. He was standing in the shade again, and all I could see was a dark shadow and two golden eyes.

“Why did you come here?”

“Aren’t you glad to see me?”

I didn’t answer.

“All right, Harold,” the Messenger sighed, and his eyes glinted. “Time to pay your dues.”

“What dues?”

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our agreement?”

“I remember our agreement, Djok,” I said, calling the Messenger by his real name without thinking.

“That’s good.” He didn’t seem to have noticed my slip of the tongue. “The Master wants you to carry out his Commission.”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to do anything for any master, but a deal is a deal. And it wasn’t that easy to get away from the Messenger; he could turn up anywhere at any time. As bad luck would have it, there was no one else in the alley but us.

“What are the conditions of the Commission?”

“Oh, it’s all very simple, thief. Before midnight today you have to steal the Rainbow Horn from the Tower of the Order.”

“What? Your lord has to be joking! I won’t do it!”

“Why not?”

“Why not? It’s impossible. Not only does he want me to break into the Tower of the Order, he wants me to steal the Rainbow Horn! There’s a magician every yard in there!”

“Now you listen to me, Harold. You’re going to get that artifact. And get it today, before midnight. And not just because you accepted a deal. You’ll
want
to help us as soon as possible when I tell you what’s happened.”

“And what has happened?” As far as I was concerned, the moon could fall from the sky, and I still wouldn’t go and get that Horn of my own free will.

“The Player has betrayed the Master.”

“I don’t get the connection.”

“The Player has betrayed my Master and now he serves another. It’s a great night tonight, Harold. You can’t even imagine just how great. This round of the Game is being decided. If the Player follows the instructions of our opponent, the balance will collapse and a certain someone will escape from the Palaces of Bone. If that happens, Siala will go back to the start of the Dark Era. My Master really doesn’t want to have to create everything all over again. The Rainbow Horn is the thing that can disrupt the balance.”

“All right, all right. Start from the beginning. What have the Horn and this Player got to do with everything?”

“If the Player uses the Horn, then the Game will be lost.”

“Then don’t let him get hold of the Horn.”

“He already has.”

“Oh!” I said, trying to think. “Then kill the Player.”

“Because he is the Player, the Masters have no right to kill him.”

“I thought I heard you say the Master knew how the Game would go? Surely he could have foreseen that the Horn would fall into the wrong hands? Stop. Just who is the Player?”

“Good thinking, Harold. Good thinking. The Master figured everything out, but everybody makes mistakes, especially when they have to rely on people. People are weak, and the Player has proved to be no exception to the rule. The Master knew that the Horn would end up with the Player, but he didn’t expect the old fox to go running off to another den. I’m talking about Artsivus.”

“No. It can’t be!”

“Why not? The Master knew you would definitely give the Rainbow Horn to the Order, which means to Artsivus.”

“But why him?” I could believe anything at all, but not that the fine old man Artsivus was the influential figure who wanted to kill me.…