Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (36 page)

A row of a
dozen tall corniced buildings emerged into the foreground. Baus
could discern high pitched gables set with traditional shingle and
ornate façades that stood silently in the grey moonlight. Text was
engraved on the walls which none of the company could decipher. A
few orange glimmers glinted through the casements in the upper
levels, but outside of a gleam or two, no glimpse or sound came
from these domiciles. A large open plaza lay in the moonlight.
Purling water, of a large fountain, trickled from this direction.
They inched their way forward, searching for the slightest sound of
mishap, but Baus detected no menace, and caught only a downward
glimpse of light, noting that the cobbles were waxed smooth by the
passage of many feet. The square’s center was dominated by a great
obelisk; an alabaster fountain also purled at its shadowy feet.

Despite the
hour, ribaldry was about. Light spilled out from the plaza’s pub a
bowshot away where two tall oval casements waxed with movement.
Undoubtedly popular, it was well groomed and attended, judging from
the clamour and unmannerly jests, rude shouts and clinking glasses,
and Baus surmised he would do best to give the place wide
berth.

The Dakkaw
gave a sullen murmur, “Voydram’s square is a place of knaves and
blowhards—louts and simpletons drink ale like fish here. The
coffers to which I allude are kept in the Vulde’s private
manor—’tis on the west side.” He gestured perfunctorily at the
edifice and remarked, “I’ve been there many times. Always I had no
trouble gaining entry through the old post door that lies near the
root cellar.”

“Very good,
Dakkaw,” exclaimed Baus. “Show us the way—but no tricks! My
ganglestick is less forgiving than its last strike upon you,” Baus
warned, giving the adjunct a meaningful tap.

The Dakkaw
maintained a stony grin. “Fear no chicanery, you ingrate. The
Vulde’s daughter, Delizra, slumbers in one of the luxurious wings
on the main floor. We will steal her after we secure your wealth,
and you two jacks will help me escort her back to Bisiguth.”

“All in good
time, Dakkaw,” said Baus, waving the ganglestick with cavalier
authority. “Let us acquire this ‘mountain of gold’ first, then we
shall see what transpires.”

The Dakkaw
flashed Baus a feral grin. “See that you do, rogue—else things may
not go well for you and your redbeard chum, magic stick or not.” He
lowered his head and stumped forward with frigid dignity.

Baus noticed
many pales wedged in and around casements’ sills, positioned above
doorways and on the eaves of rooftops. Some were bunched in flower
pots and gardens, others tacked on the walls themselves. How
steadfast were the villagers of Krintz! thought Baus. The stakes
were more regular and stouter in shape than Baus would have
imagined and edged with three-tongued barbs that held up sacks of
onions, shallots and cloves which he believed the villagers thought
to ward off monsters.

Valere stood
on the balls of his feet, gauging the sacks with a quipster’s grin.
“My, my, Dakkaw! You do appear to be an unpopular person! It
puzzles me as to why you have not already attempted to secure these
barbs and sacks?”

The Dakkaw
gave a disgusted grunt. “By the time I did, the villagers would
have been all over me, crowding me with bills and snares.”

“What of the
cloves and the onions?” Baus inquired.

“They burn my
skin and wreak pain on my senses! Even now I feel a looming leaden
waxiness coming over my limbs. My sense of smell is impeccable; but
even my hearing becomes impaired; I feel a small chill running down
my spine, a burning in my throat. Even at this moment, some queer
coincidence makes me feel the hated shallots within inches of my
own vitals!” He swallowed, peered loathingly. But he could find no
sign of his scourge. Nevertheless, his gaze swung heavily on
Baus.

Baus looked
innocently away, not appreciating the ogre’s scrutiny. Valere
followed deeper into the back alley, tugging at the Dakkaw’s rope
with even more compelling force.

The Dakkaw
sneered: “I shall proceed, Captain, as soon as you allow my
wretched neck some lenience.”

Valere loosed
tension on the rope. Baus made eager motions to drag a pair of
onion bags and shallot off to the alley’s periphery. Valere watched
with indifference.

To their right
a tall, smoke-blackened wall rose. Ragged smoke drifted from the
two brick chimneys above. Baus craned his neck; he spied a voluted
roof rich with complex angles . . . a high balcony, indeed, under
which three darkened, filigreed window panes, were exposed.

Baus shivered,
for the alley’s narrow girth worried him—too easy for capture, or
ambush, plunged as it was into chill shadow.

The Dakkaw
requested Valere to dispose of the detestable sacks at the foot of
a nearby darkened doorway. Valere refused. The Dakkaw plodded to
the door, a low affair it seemed, and sneered, hopping over, nearly
fainting from the proximity to the onions. The entrance was shut
tightly and framed with grey baywolf posts with polished iron
rings. A small oval window lay out of arm’s reach to the left.

The Dakkaw
grabbed the door-rings and gave a mighty twist while heaving with
his shoulder against the grains of beobar.

The portal
swung inward, the bottom scraping noisily at the stone.

The intruders
failed to notice a woman garbed in peasant’s blouse peering at them
from a distance up the alley. Swaying tipsily, she put a hand to
her mouth and uttered a cry. The warning was quickly stifled by
Valere, who, seizing the initiative, rushed out and clamped a deft
hand over her mouth before she could mouth another shriek. She
caught a glimpse of the ogreish Dakkaw in the shadows who was just
whirling out the entranceway in menacing stealth.

“Careful,
lass!” breathed Valere humorously. “You haven’t seen anything,
right? Upon my soul, so long has it been since I kissed a pretty
flower like you.” He scooped her up and laid a sloppy kiss on her
lips like a captured kitten. The thrusting of maw against hers had
her struggling in terror to escape. She pushed herself away,
shrilling out a feverish cry. She slapped Valere hard on the cheek
and tottered off back to the plaza.

Valere
frowned. “Well, that was untoward.”

Baus hissed:
“Shouldn’t we go after her? The wench may alert the
constables!”

Valere smacked
his lips. “Gibbering out a story about a seven foot giant, a mad
beggar and a drunken accomplice? . . . I don’t think so. The feint
was deliberate, Baus. Ah, the wench’s lips felt good. Probably
gotten over it even as we speak . . . some tavern hussy from one of
these little ale holes.”

The Dakkaw
sniffed his disapproval. “You are a boor, Captain. Exhibitions of
this kind would never win you a bride in Krintz.”

Valere jeered.
“What need I of a bride in Krintz, ogre? I have already had my
share of snakelegs and heartbreaks. It’s a damn sham, Dakkaw, and I
pity you for your mawkishness and bathetic—”

Baus
interrupted: “Let us dispense with the philosophy and augment our
stealth. Valere, I admire your veneration, but your
ungentlemanliness surprises even me. I seem to recall a certain
Rauseelia from whom you seem not to have taken a few lessons.”

Valere’s eyes
flashed crimson. “Never utter that unholy name, pip. At least not
in my presence.” His cheeks twitched, features knotted. “Let us get
on with this insane mission. I am ready to quit now. Notice, the
night wears!”

The Dakkaw
snorted his agreement.

Baus curtly
motioned Valere and the ogre into the cubbyhole; the giant ducked
into the murk—albeit reluctantly. The two captors plunged in after
him, but not before Baus had dragged back one of the shallot sacks
and placed another inside to block the door.

“What’s all
this?” the Dakkaw blared.

“An act to
avoid detection by the locals,” Baus assured. “Also, should you
attempt a cack-handed ambush of us in the corridor, you would
invite your own doom. No one but us can displace the items.”

“A foolish and
unnecessary precaution!”

“It is what it
is,” answered Baus solemnly.

Valere gave a
sardonic chuckle, “A man who survives is also one who gets a bride,
eh, Dakkaw?”

Baus
acknowledged the maxim with maximum approval. Presently the two
wedged the sack of onion tightly behind the door and the trio
descended a low stairwell, hunched like dwarfs, unable to avoid
stumbling over bins, barrels and jars that littered the floor. The
gloomy place was rife with the smell of sour wine and fermented
ale. Obviously a winery of sorts. A feeble watery light crept in
through the casement to their left.

Not having the
lie of the land, the two thieves stubbed their toes on
iron-strapped barrels and more old wooden crates left over from
packaging. They probed sullenly here and there, muttering oaths
until the two reached the far wall—’twas real enough to grant them
small comfort. Crude poles or staffs were mounted on the stone
face, which Valere wrenched off their hangers and identified as
brands. On a nearby table lay flint and tinder which he took and
had a brand firing to life.

“What luck!”
he snorted. Under the dull glare, Baus discovered the nature of the
surroundings: a distillery, quite expansive, ornamented with
high-vaulted ceiling and squared, heavy pillars. Dozens of holes
were carved in the wall filled with bottles of wine. Valere
expressed an inclination to sample some of the liquor but Baus
discouraged the idea. Rubbing hand to chin, he thought it odd that
the town’s entire wealth would be stored in such a dim,
out-of-the-way hidey-hole.

As if reading
his mind, the Dakkaw told them that the Vulde kept the town’s
treasure here knowing that no one would think of searching for it
in so repulsive a place. “The distillery is an extension of his
manse, which rises above us on three levels.”

“That is good
to know.” The proclamation was not entirely implausible and Baus
found himself wandering down avenues of scheming. They tramped on,
up a metal-worked stair, then a platform which gave rise to a
narrow walkway with wooden railing. Dimly he saw the expanse of
brewery below. The Dakkaw pointed to a heavy bronze-strapped door
which stood with imposing dominance at the end of the walkway.
“Beyond that portal lies the Vulde’s wealth, and likely that of the
town’s. The entrance is locked, but when has that ever deterred the
likes of an ogre?” With an impertinent grin, the monster trooped
down the corridor and gave the portal a jarring smack. The back of
his fist had it creaking ajar and after some simple manoeuvring, he
scraped the door near off its hinges.

Valere edged
past the ogre, keen to avoid his flexing hands and examine the
wealth. He thrust out his torch to find a strongbox caked in dust
sitting on a plain dais propped along the far wall. He rushed over,
discovering the confines a small stony vault, windowless, and with
the ceiling nearly brushing his skull.

The box was
unlocked, and the lid slid open after several attempts, to reveal a
heaping pile of gold coins that glistened seductively in the
torchlight. Valere gaped; he ran his fingers through the nuggets
like a true treasure-hunter. True to his word, the Dakkaw had
delivered the goods. This time Baus gloated in celebration with
Valere. They exchanged hoarse praises; here was a wealth greater
than either had ever had their mitts into! Grinning like monkeys,
they sifted through the coins, scooping up as much as their pockets
would hold. Baus suddenly tensed, catching glimpse of Dakkaw from
the corner of his eye. The ogre was just leaning outside the
entrance with a casual leg slung under the other without taking any
wealth for himself.

“Well?”
croaked the Dakkaw. “What is it now? Have I offended you with my
yellow teeth, or are you all just ingrates? Here’s enough glitter
for you jacks to pass ten years. Glut yourselves a-plenty, rogues,
but be quick about it, for I grow impatient!”

Baus peered
contemptibly at the ogre. He was eager to get out of this
storeroom, having received a disturbing vision that the giant could
suddenly slam the door shut on the two of them and that would be
the end. “What about you? Aren’t you going to gather up treasure?
There is plenty for all.” He thrust hands into the stash and let
drop a clinking handful of gold.

The Dakkaw
stepped back with a scowl, eyes brimming with hauteur. “At Bisiguth
I have treasures galore. My jewels would fill this repository a
score of times over. As for myself—I desire only a bride.”

Baus’s thin
grimace dwindled to a mocking sneer. “A bride, always a bride. You
are a monomanic. Well, let’s make a deal; we shall visit these
upper levels of yours if only you help us carry out this box.”

The Dakkaw
held up a minatory finger. “I have fulfilled my duty, now loose
these shackles and remove this wretched rope from my throat. I
cannot be wheezing and jerking my way courting my princess like a
common mongrel out in the kennel.”

Valere offered
a thin jeer but the ogre was adamant and Baus felt obliged to give
him something of what he wanted. The shackles fell in a jangling
heap.

Valere’s mouth
sagged.

“That’s
better!” sneered the ogre. “Now, the noose.” He flung it down and
it lay in a dishevelled pile on the stone.

The Dakkaw
held an advantage, checked only by the sack of shallots barring
egress from the winery. But Baus tossed a shrug. What could he do?
They would depart Krintz and leave this monster to his repulsive
deeds, at least this is what his wordless glance to Valere
bespoke.

Barring the
door, they retraced their steps, padding cautiously down the narrow
walkway. They ascended another iron-grilled stair and before long
stood before a portal with a brass, hatchet-shaped handle. The
winery swung below like an abandoned tool shop.