The Heresy Within (46 page)

Another man, tall as Betrim but skinny as a post was up in a flash swinging a bony fist. The Black Thorn caught the fist with his face and went stumbling backwards into another table. One of the men from that table, a burly beast with one arm twice the size of the other and a lazy eye stood and made to grab for Betrim.

The Black Thorn's five fingered fist flashed out and punched the blacksmith in the throat then he grabbed hold of the choking fool and pushed him at the bony man. Chaos seemed to erupt a moment later as fists started flying and folk who were just recently sitting quiet started hitting other folk who had been sitting just as quiet.

A hoarse laugh burst forth from Betrim's lips. Seemed even the fancy folk of Sarth were just as capable of a drunken brawl as folk from the wilds. The tall bony man crashed into Betrim with fists flailing. The Black Thorn thrust his head into the man's face once, twice and then picked him up and flung him across a table.

Another victim grabbed hold of Betrim by the shoulder. He turned, intending to punch the poor bastard and found himself spun around with his arm twisted behind his back. Jezzet's voice hissed in his ear. “Time to go. Now!”

Betrim took a glance at his handiwork. He spied at least ten men involved in the fight and the Arbiter who had stopped Thanquil in the midst of it trying to calm the situation down. The unfortunate bastard who had taken the chair to his back was still slumped over the table, unconscious. Thanquil stood by the door to the inn waving some people in. A few seconds later a number of city guard clad in white uniforms bundled their way inside. Jezzet pushed Betrim out of the way and they slipped around the guards and followed Thanquil outside.

A Blademaster without a blade is a master of nothing
.

Could be worse.
She told herself.
Walk unarmed to the very gates of the Inquisition and ask for a traitor by name or spend the rest of the day with Thanquil and Thorn.
The two had been arguing almost non-stop since the Black Thorn started a brawl last night. Truth was the brawl provided the distraction they needed to slip away from an Arbiter who was close to recognising Thanquil. Truth was also that the brawl brought a lot of attention their way, attention they could well do without.

Jez rubbed her thumb across the ring on her right index finger.
A gift from Thanquil,
though '
gift'
was the wrong term. A small wooden trinket; plain dark-red wood on the outside but on the underside were carved the symbols of an Arbiter charm.

“It should make you immune to the effects of the compulsion though you'll still feel it trying to slip inside your head. Hopefully the Arbiter should feel it also.” Thanquil had said when he gave her the ring.

“Slip inside my head... sounds wonderful. What happens if it doesn't work?”

Thanquil had winced then. “It... should work.”

“Well either way, reckon it's the first time a man's ever given me a ring before. Maybe you should ask me a question, to see if it works.”

The Arbiter had looked pained when she suggested that. Jezzet hadn't gotten around to asking Thanquil why he was so reluctant to ask her any questions as Thorn had banged on the door stinking of last night’s beer and insisting it was time to go.

A group of three slaves walked past Jezzet and she fell in a few paces behind them to hide her approach to the Inquisition gate. The slaves in Sarth were treated so differently to those in the wilds Jez sometimes wasn't sure whether they were slaves. They wore serviceable, well-tended clothing, sandals to protect their feet and were often seen out without a master to herd them.

There were some very strict rules as to the treatment of slaves in Sarth, so Thanquil told her, one of which being that slaves could not be used as whores though buying a female slave to be used as a mistress was a regular occurrence among the rich and the nobility. As such beautiful slave girls were a rare and widely sought after commodity in the white city and were often treated better than the owner's wives. Some of the richest and most powerful men in the city were even known to keep harems of slave girls though not many could afford such a luxury.

Problem is they're still slaves, still got no freedom. Their master says, 'spread your legs' and all the slave can do is reply, 'how wide?’

The slaves in front of her now were all men and were all carrying boxes or barrels. The property of some merchant who used them as cheap labour to move goods from here to there, no doubt. In the wilds most male slaves wore nothing more than loin cloths. Jezzet began to wonder if the male slaves here in Sarth were gelded like they often were in the wilds.

The slaves turned off to the left and she found herself standing in front of the Inquisition compound. Up close it looked even more dark and foreboding than at a distance. Jez could feel her confidence wavering but stepped up the main gate all the same.

A guardsman clad in the shiny white uniform of the city watch stepped in front of her. He shouted back to the guard house behind him and then just stood there, blocking her from proceeding but saying nothing. Jezzet treated him to stony silence right back.

A tall man with a gut as big as a barrel and a bushy brown moustache that hid most of his red face stepped out of the guardhouse and approached. He wore an Arbiter coat just like Thanquil's only much larger to accommodate his girth. His manner seemed cheerful but Jezzet didn't trust it.

“How may we be of service, my lady,” the fat Arbiter said in a booming voice.

Seemed everyone was calling Jezzet a whore or a lady these days, truth was she wasn't sure which pissed her off more.

“'Ere ta see Arbiter Kessick,” she said dropping into a heavy wilds drawl and staring the fat Arbiter down.

The Arbiter looked her up and down, a jovial smile on his face the entire time and then nodded and turned to one of the guards. “Go fetch, Arbiter Kessick. Tell him... what was your name, miss?”

Jezzet felt... something, she couldn't quite explain it but it felt like something clawing inside her mind. Almost she refused to answer and punched the fat Arbiter in his fat face but to do so would have given the game away.

“Jezzet Vel'urn,” she said with a frown.

The fat Arbiter turned back to the guard. “Tell Arbiter Kessick he has a visitor, one Jezzet Vel'urn.” After the guard scurried off the fat man turned back to Jez. “Would you care to come inside? I can offer you a cool drink.”

Again Jezzet felt the strange sensation in her mind.

I would care to stick a knife into one of your chins for trying to get inside my head you slimy fat bastard.

“Nah, reckon I'll wait jus' 'ere.” She could feel her thumb rubbing at the ring on her finger. It was taking all her restraint not to attack the Arbiter in front of her.

Think I'm starting to understand why Thanquil didn't want to ask me any questions. I might have had to kill him.

When the guard returned he had another Arbiter in tow. This one was short, about of a height with Thanquil, and stocky. Everything about that man seemed hard as stone. His face looked to be carved from granite, all hard lines and tight weather-beaten skin. His hair was black dusted with grey and cropped short and his eyes were dark and dangerous. The man even walked like he was made of stone.
Either that or he has a particularly long stick up his arse.

“You Kessick?” Jez asked the new arrival.

“I don't know you,” the Arbiter's voice was as hard as the rest of him.

“Nah, ya don't. But if ya Kessick than I got a message fer ya,” Jezzet hoped the man would pick up on the wilds accent she was throwing in his face.

The new Arbiter turned to the fat one. “I'll take it from here. You,” he pointed at Jez, “come with me.”

Jezzet Vel'urn would like to have said she wasn't the type of woman to scare easy but when surrounded by witch hunters she found it hard not to feel like running. She hadn't realised they'd be so many; inside the compound there were Arbiters everywhere she looked. Some were standing around in groups, talking. Others were walking from one place to another. Some even seemed to be lazing about doing very little in the afternoon sun. As Arbiter Kessick led her towards the giant black stone tower Jezzet hoped to all the Gods she couldn't remember that she didn't look as guilty as she felt.

The Arbiter turned right before the main entrance to the tower and walked another fifty paces before stopping. He opened a small door into the side of the tower and walked through. Inside was small black corridor lit with a number of ensconced torches. The corridor ended just twenty paces ahead and to each side were two doors. The Arbiter picked the second door on the left hand side, opened it and looked in, then he nodded at Jezzet. “Get in.”

The room looked almost like a cell only with a table and two chairs instead of a bed. There didn't seem to be any sort of lock on the door so Jezzet swallowed her fear and did as she was told. The Arbiter followed her in and pulled the door too.

“Sit down.”

“Reckon I'll stand.”

The Arbiter didn't look too pleased about that. “Sit. Down.”

Again Jezzet did as she was told and the Arbiter took the seat opposite her. There he sat for a while staring at her with his cold, dark eyes. Jezzet stared on back.

“Ya are Kessick, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I'm Kessick, and you're from the wilds.”

“I got a message. From H'ost... well... sorta a message...”

“You weren't there last I was. I'd have noticed. So either you're lying or H'ost kept you hidden.”

Tread carefully, Jez.

“I ain't lying an' I weren’t hidin'. I work fer H'ost... worked fer H'ost but I worked in Chade. My orders were simple an' I'm bein' well-paid fer carryin' 'em out. If H'ost dies; I'm ta come ta Sarth, find Arbiter Kessick, an' tell him.”

Kessick didn't look convinced, didn't look unconvinced either. His face was as expressionless as the Black Thorn's only without the burns.

“How did he die?” the Arbiter asked. There was no feeling, no clawing inside her head, no will trying to subvert her own. There was nothing.

What the hell do I do? Do I pretend his compulsion is working or just act like I didn't feel anything?

“One o' yours did fer him,” she said without dropping her stony face. “Slaughtered half the town in the doin' as I hear it.”

“What was his name? The Arbiter that killed H'ost.”

“Fuck if I know. I weren't there an' bloody glad of it.”

Kessick was silent for a moment. Jez could see his jawing clenched tight. “What about H'ost's daughter?” he asked.

Jezzet didn't have to feign confusion. “I don't fuckin' know. I weren't there. Paid ta tell you H'ost is dead. Job done. Now if ya done askin' questions I don't know the answers ta I intend ta go get stinkin' drunk.”

Again Kessick was silent for a while, staring at Jezzet the entire time. It occurred to her that the Arbiter may be deciding whether or not to kill her. “Of course,” he said in grave voice. “I'll escort you back to the gate.”

By the time she got back to the main gate Jez was shaking so badly she had to shove her hands in her pockets to hide it. It wasn't helped by the fact that Kessick had taken to walking a couple of steps behind her and was as silent as the grave. Her nerves were frayed to the point of snapping.

“I assume you'll be departing back to the wilds soon, Miss Vel'urn,” Arbiter Kessick said from the threshold.

Jez turned and gave him a lopsided grin. “Too right. Be on the first ship I can find. Jus' as soon as I sober up on the morrow.”

“Goodbye then.” The Arbiter's dark, dangerous eyes never left her, never blinked. Jezzet nodded and backed away before turning and doing her very best not to look like she was fleeing.

For the rest of the day and most of the night the three of them waited and watched. It was not easy to pretend to have reasons to be there for so long and would have been a lot easier if they hadn't been involved in a bar fight at a certain inn just one night ago. Betrim found himself a nice looking spot of wall to sit by and lean on; he looked for all the world like a beggar down on his luck and in need of a few spare bits and Jezzet wasn't the only one to think so. A number of people, those who looked like they had bits to spare, tossed him the odd coin or two.

Thanquil was not quite so subtle. The Arbiter wandered around some of the shops, spending a good deal of time in each but never buying anything and always keeping one eye on the main gate of the Inquisition while trying to hide his face from the witch hunters who passed him. After the sun went down he joined Jezzet in the dirty little alley behind the bakery and let her do the watching while he paced and worried. Three times he muttered something about going to the God-Emperor and three times he shook his head, deciding against whatever plan he had laid out. Jezzet was glad of that at least, last thing she needed was to come face to face with a God whose name she couldn't even be bothered to remember.

Some nights, it seemed to Jezzet, were darker than others and this one seemed near pitch black despite the lanterns lit above the streets. Moon and stars both were hidden behind a thick blanket of cloud that stretched from one horizon to the other and even the white stone buildings seemed to do little to keep the world from the darkness.

A fitting night for stalking someone,
she thought as Arbiter Kessick stepped out from the main gate, glanced left and right then chose right and started walking.
I could walk near enough beside him and he might not notice.

Thorn was already up and following the man. He glanced once at Jezzet and then back to watching Kessick from thirty paces or so. Should be enough not to rouse suspicion but not so far as to lose sight of the Arbiter. Jez hissed at Thanquil to follow and then set off, keeping her distance from Thorn as he was keeping his from Kessick. Thanquil fell in beside her.

“You're sure it's him. I can't see him,” Thanquil whispered.

“Thorn can. It's him.”

They followed in silence as Thorn led them into and through the sleepless trade district. The sounds, smells and light in the area never truly vanished as forge fires were never allowed to go out. Merchants, even after a day of successful trading, laboured to prepare goods for the morrow and some shops never closed; there were always some folk needing supplies at all hours.