Stranger of Tempest: Book One of The God Fragments (24 page)

‘Oh gods,’ Lynx said eventually, the fog of hangover in his brain not permitting much else.

‘Aye, that’s what they all say.’

More mercenaries began to filter outside, most half-dressed with blankets wrapped round their shoulders and bleary-eyed. Several sported bruises, one a poorly wrapped gash on his arm that Himbel was half-heartedly trying to attend to. The mercenary, a lean man covered in scars and mismatched tattoos, was clearly no stranger to injury and interested only in the coffee. Eventually Himbel gave up and eased himself down beside Lynx, Llaith handing the scowling doctor a smoke without it even being asked for.

A young man pushed his way out of the main door to feeble cheers from mercenaries, half of whom were still drunk by Lynx’s fuzzy estimation. The youth carried a platter of fried bread and fat slices of blood sausage, piled so high he could barely carry it, while a girl who could have been his sister followed him out with a stack of wooden plates and a large bowl of boiled eggs.

Their breakfast was interrupted when one of the still-drunk mercenaries grabbed a handful of the girl’s backside and some of the female members started swinging, but just at that moment Anatin arrived outside and the violence evaporated as quickly as the puffs of smoke drifting up to meet the breeze.

‘One happy little family, eh?’ Anatin commented as he used his boot to gently nudge a woman out of her seat and settle opposite Lynx.

The Prince of Sun had bloodshot eyes with great grey rings around them, but he walked more easily than Lynx had.

Lynx grunted. ‘Aye, something like that.’ He picked up a slice of blood sausage, the surface fried to a dark crisp, and tossed it to Sitain. ‘Here you go, time to eat!’

She held the slice up and took a tentative bite before going pale again.

‘Oh gods.’

Sauren stifled a yawn and rolled her shoulders to try and work some of the stiffness from them. She looked up at the sky and saw the sun creeping over the rooftop ahead. Checking around her quickly she found she was alone and briefly dropped to her knees, left hand on her heart, to speak the salute to day.

‘Veraimin we honour your warmth. Light of life we greet you and charge you with our care.’

She spoke under her breath, head bowed but eyes staring forward all the while. The gate to the inn’s yard didn’t move an inch while she prayed, as it hadn’t for hours. Sauren hauled herself upright again and edged back into the dark nook she’d colonised the previous evening. It was an unobtrusive corner of shadow from which she could watch the inn’s entrance without being visible to a casual observer. She wasn’t quite dressed as a vagrant, but her muddied and torn greatcoat certainly ensured few people would spare her more than a glance, should they notice her at all.

‘I had forgotten you were a Quorist,’ said a voice away to her left. Sauren jumped in surprise as Exalted Uvrel stepped around a corner and cocked her head at Sauren. ‘Give Veraimin my regards, won’t you?’

Sauren ducked her head once more, touching her fingers to her forehead. This time she did take her eyes off the entrance.

‘Exalted, good morning,’ she said, just about able to keep her voice level. A Quorist was a member of the Militant Orders who prayed to all of the gods, not just the one their order was dedicated to. It was not a shunned practice, but she knew many of the more radical elements disapproved. Sauren was new to Uvrel’s service and had yet to get a read on the woman, to know where she sat in that particular debate.

‘I offer the salute to the gods,’ she added, unable to hold back from explaining herself under Uvrel’s steely gaze. ‘I pray only to Insar, I assure you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Uvrel replied, ‘I’ve no issue with your devotion; you’d not be here otherwise. A healthy respect for the gods shows a practical turn of mind and that’s something I’ve use for.’

The Exalted walked forward until she was almost opposite Sauren – hidden from the inn’s entrance by the wall she leaned against, close enough to the corner that Sauren could talk without turning her head. As she did so, Sauren properly took in what the woman was wearing and had to fight the urge to goggle at her. She’d never once seen the Exalted out of uniform before, but now Uvrel wore a long skirt and fitted tunic that buttoned right up to her throat, over which she wore a matching coat with brass buttons and brocade. Not only civilian garb but elegant and flattering too, cut to fit and clearly not brand new.

‘Yes – I own clothes,’ Uvrel said levelly.

‘Sorry.’ Sauren’s gaze dropped and it was almost with relief that she saw Uvrel still had her tall boots on. The skirt mostly hid them, but in the place of pointed toes and heels were her usual blackened steel caps and soles made for marching. Delicate heels or some sort of silk slipper might have been a shock too many this early in the morning.

‘Report?’

Sauren shook her head. ‘Little at all. A handful staggered back after I took over the watch, in twos or threes mostly. No one’s left yet. No sign of Lynx or the girl.’

‘The informant insists they’re in there,’ Uvrel mused, ‘and he returned to us willingly enough. I’m still half-convinced he’s mad, though.’

‘No sign of the scout yet?’

‘Not yet, but it’s too early. Even riding hard and with our friend’s directions, he’ll be a while searching. This afternoon, I hope.’

‘And if I see the girl before then?’

‘Do nothing. One of them has been underestimated once, it will not happen again.’

She bowed her head. ‘I understand, Exalted.’

Uvrel nodded in the direction of the inn. ‘Have you seen enough to gain any sense of these Steel Crows?’

‘No, Exalted. Some returned only as dawn was breaking, others had to be carried by their comrades. No doubt more never made it back, but I would expect nothing less from mercenaries. There was no fighting or disruption here, or city patrols arriving in pursuit, but I doubt much conclusion could be drawn.’

‘But their commander and sergeants never left all evening.’

She nodded. ‘I sent Lubest in to check before he returned to barracks. He’s a local, no one will have looked twice at him. He said the commander had them in a back room, drinking and playing cards. The company’s taken most of the tavern so there were only a few others drinking last night. He didn’t stay long, heard female voices in the room but only saw a black woman while he was there.’

‘But you don’t keep your sergeants back unless you need them. Otherwise you send them out with the troops to maintain some sort of control. So are they planning something? Waiting for a contact?’

Sauren frowned. ‘One of the factions?’

‘Perhaps.’ Uvrel shrugged. ‘Perhaps this commander is simply smarter than the rest and heard of the Order’s build-up. He plants his flag and sees what sort of commissions come his way.’

‘He just happened to be passing?’

‘Never rule out bad luck. But our friend said they numbered under fifty, so nothing for us to worry about. At best they’d be able to escort a few council members and their wealth out to safety. I’ve tasked a unit to see if there are other mercenary companies lurking in the city. A handful of sell-swords is one thing, but these companies have arrangements to merge for large contracts. A few hundred to support the Assayers might complicate matters.’

‘Our friend knows nothing about that?’

‘Would you trust him with such information?’ Uvrel said scornfully. ‘I’ve avoided asking directly – perhaps the time will come later, but at present he’s happy to be our guest. I don’t want that to change. He insists …’

She tailed off as Sauren held up a hand. ‘His contact,’ the woman muttered, eyes turned towards the inn. ‘Black woman with a red scarf.’

Uvrel nodded, reaching one hand round to the back of her tunic, no doubt checking her mage-pistol was still concealed under her long coat, but then she paused. ‘You’ve been here since before dawn, right?’

Sauren nodded.

‘Go and stretch your legs then. I’ll watch for a while.’

Sauren scrambled up with a sense of relief and looked across the street to where the contact had turned into an alley. The black woman,
Braqe
, Sauren recalled, caught the movement and gave her a guilty look before gesturing back round behind the inn. Sauren inclined her head and left the Exalted to squat down in the nook as she headed out into the main street. It was still early and only a handful of people were out yet, this being Vigilday which followed the more raucous Feastday. She jammed her hands into her pockets and headed over the dew-damp cobbles across the face of the inn’s gate.

Out of the corner of her eye she could make out a number of figures in the courtyard moving past the gate, but it was only half-open and she only glimpsed movement before she was past. At the end of the block she crossed the street and cut in behind the buildings, circling back behind the inn. At the corner of one alley, Braqe stood waiting. The woman was stiff and nervous, fighting the urge to look around all the time. She didn’t carry a gun, of course, but there was a battered sword-bayonet hanging on her belt that her hands twitched towards when she spotted Sauren.

‘You’ve got news?’ Sauren said softly as she reached her.

‘You’re one of …’

‘Yes.’

Braqe swallowed, her expression a fascinating mixture of anger and concern, Sauren realised now she was closer.
Perhaps not as comfortable with betraying her own as the madman is.

‘We’re moving out early,’ Braqe said. ‘This afternoon. They’ve changed plans, didn’t say why.’

‘The whole company?’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t think so, looks like the boss is staying with a few. I heard mention of another inn, a better type for his sergeants.’

‘Why?’ Sauren fixed her with a level look. ‘What’s being planned? Don’t give me any shit about not knowing anything. We’ve heard enough of that from your friend.’

‘To the deepest black with all o’ you!’ Braqe snapped, recovering herself momentarily. She took a half-step forward but Sauren was ready for her and had a hand inside her coat, half-drawing her mage-pistol. Braqe saw the weapon and stopped, lips tight with anger.

‘Tell me or we’re done.’

‘I don’t know, that’s the truth. Commander’s got some sort of job, but it ain’t a usual merc one. He don’t need the company, just a handful ’cos he never does anything alone. Something about a woman running away from home or some such shit.’ She scowled. ‘I don’t get told stuff that I ain’t involved in, and I don’t care much for stuff I’m not being paid for.’

‘It’s personal?’

‘Fuck knows, mebbe, but with all your friends here he’s not taking chances.’

‘My friends?’

‘Knights-Charnel, who else? Word is there’s a thousand of you and that’s not good news for the city. If there’s to be a coup, it ain’t our problem unless we’re being paid to get involved, but your lot ain’t exactly subtle or much for leaving loose ends. No merc company wants to be in a city when you’re taking control of it in case we get dealt with. Understand?’

Sauren nodded, realising the Lord-Exalted would no doubt have planned for as much if they were readying for an armed coup.

‘So if some of you’re moving out, where’s our quarry going to be?’

‘Lynx is with the commander. My guess is if things go wrong, a So Han veteran’s a useful scapegoat to have tucked under your arm. Sitain’s with the main group, commander wants her out of sight for as long as possible.’

‘Why has your commander let her stay around for so long?’

Braqe spat on the ground. ‘Like I said, your lot ain’t subtle. We don’t fancy being asked questions about who did what when they’re asked at knife point. If he turns her out in the city, she could raise a scene easy enough with Lynx around. Man’s not subtle himself and as stubborn as a lame mule. And murder brings its own attention.’

‘So you get her out of the city, nice and quietly, and deal with the matter in private – whichever way your commander wants to take it.’

‘One problem at a time,’ Braqe agreed.

Sauren cocked her head in thought before a smile crossed her face. ‘It looks like we’ll have to force your hand then.’

‘Eh?’

‘I’ll have the gate guards search everything leaving the city. We’ve just had word there’s a fugitive mage on the loose – wanted for murder too. Either we take her at the gate or we force her to stay in the city and buy ourselves time to arrange a safe arrest.’

‘Safe? Commander’s keeping back some o’ his best fighters.’

‘Best
soldiers
, I’m guessing,’ Sauren pointed out. ‘Not crazed, trigger-happy mercs, but soldiers who can see when they’re outnumbered and won’t make rash decisions. We’d have taken you already if it wasn’t for that. All we need’s some damn fool with a sparker or burner in the pipe and we’ll be lucky if we’re only explaining fifty bodies after the ensuing battle.’

The woman’s expression tightened, but she wasn’t an idiot. No doubt she’d seen a gun battle inside a city before and knew what her comrades would do to fight their way out of a corner.

‘I get it,’ she admitted. ‘What about the rest of our money?’

Sauren sighed inwardly.
Bloody mercenaries.
‘We’re still waiting for our rider to bring confirmation. Once we have that, we’ll give the money to Deern and he can catch the main company up on the road. The price includes making our job to take them easier – meaning more bloodless – if they somehow catch up to you on the road.’

‘Don’t screw us on this,’ Braqe warned. ‘That wasn’t part of the deal.’

‘
We
are not mercenaries,’ Sauren spat, feeling a spark of anger. ‘Do not mistake us for your kind. We don’t care about the money, but keeping to a bargain is a cornerstone of faith. If you think you know stubborn, you’ll learn a lesson if you test my Order’s resolve on a point of principle.’

The look she received was withering. ‘Aye, you lot and your damn faith. I’ve seen the results of your moral high ground an’ devotion to the gods.’

Without waiting for a reply Braqe turned on her heel and headed back the way she’d come. Sauren watched her disappear round the corner, a bitter taste in her mouth, before she did the same and hurried back to Exalted Uvrel.