Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (40 page)

“Why’s that?”
Baus asked.

He chugged
another healthy draught before grumbling, “From a young age I have
known Delizra, as I have said. She is no paramour for that pompous
pretender, Hysgode. She is a queen—an angel. He is a coxcomb, a
prig with some coin, a conceited ass in a nutshell! He invaded our
House with his elegant airs and tempted the Vulde’s ambition with
his oily promises of high family ties and wealth.”

“We felt as
much,” declared Baus.

“It is more a
threat than you think,” mumbled Tulesio dully. Rankled by the mild
condescension writ on Baus’s face, he gave an impatient flourish.
“Don’t stare at me like that! I am more a brother to her than
suitor. We have always been fond of each other, Delizra and I, but
only in familial ways.”

Valere lifted
a hand. “We don’t doubt your purity. Where is the illustrious Vulde
now?”

Tulesio loosed
a breath. “Taken a contingent of the town watch to Old Krintz. Why
do you ask?”

“No particular
reason,” Valere declared. “It seems odd that he’s gone off with a
grim gang so early while his daughter is in such an unnerved
state.”

Tulesio
grumbled. “If you want to know, he’s gone to search out plunder at
Bisiguth—where else would he have gone?”

Baus frowned
into his ale. “That is unorthodox.” Exchanging apprehensive looks
with Valere, he darted eyes to the pub’s door.

“What’s wrong
with you now? Ha, you obviously know not our Vulde!” laughed
Tulesio. “He is no mooncalf! By the time news of the Dakkaw spreads
around, every jackleg grifter will be parked at Bisiguth’s court
staking claims to the ogre’s wealth. Besides the few statues
tottering alongside the south gate, we are bereft of objects of our
heritage—the obelisk of course, being an exception; but even its
history is doused in mystery, outside of a vague tale of a troop of
Kantmaclian slaves hauling it up from Sloe centuries ago.”

Baus and
Valere seemed hardly able to hear the lore. They finished their
drinks and were eager to leave. Once out of doors, Baus took Valere
aside while Tulesio wandered ahead. “If Cedrek is discovered—”

“He may pose
us a minor problem. What do you propose?”

Baus flinched.
“We did not part on amicable terms. The curmudgeon seemed to grasp
more about our situation than I would have liked. He may alert the
Vulde of certain facts of our relationship with the Dakkaw.”

Valere clicked
his tongue in abnegation. “The butcher’s son is a dolt. Hidden far
below the main hall, he shall likely be missed.”

“Let us hope
so—for both our sakes. We can’t let the oaf starve either. ’Tis no
secret that the Dakkaw has destined himself for a head-chopping and
not likely to return to Bisiguth. We could not have protected
Cedrek from that.”

Valere stroked
his beard musingly, “True—and I doubt if in all practicality, we
can rely on little Rilben to nourish him.”

“Either way,
one of us will be hard pressed to inform the Vulde that the
butcher’s son is kept in the cellars.”

Valere
stirred. “And how can we do this? What are we, magicians?”

“I was hoping
you—”

“Do not suck
me into your schemes!”

Baus ignored
Valere’s outburst. He made a practical gesture. “In itself, the
dilemma is tricky but not unsolvable. We’ve woven not unsubstantial
deceits. If the Vulde finds out about our chicanery and asks, ‘why
did you not mention our good citizen, Cedrek, penned in the
Dakkaw’s dungeon? Is this not a cruel turn?’—neither of us will
have an answer. An event of this nature will force us to beat an
ignoble retreat before Cedrek’s tongue wags.”

“Why not sneak
off now while the sneaking’s good?”

Baus frowned;
the thought of Delizra was heavy on his mind, no less, abandoning
his magic gladius. “It could be tricky, especially under the watch
of the Vulde’s valet.”

Valere
conceded. “I am no murderer, Baus—but certainly a few timely fibs
could work in our favour.”

Baus added,
“Or make us nobler heroes . . .”

* * *

That
afternoon, daylight views of the impressive geography showed the
eastern hills separating the village from the sea. Ledges of forest
were sparsely tiered, ranging low. A similar file of rounded,
brooding knolls ran farther afield, dull bluish in colour, shadowed
from the overcast.

The three
toured the village’s cobbled paths and Tulesio picked up on the
uneasiness etched on their faces. He put forth a blunt query.

Baus
grudgingly disclosed a brief rendition of Cedrek’s plight—the
lout’s intractable behaviour which had prompted them to abandon him
at Bisiguth.

“I don’t blame
you,” mused Tulesio, frowning. “Nothing can be done at this
juncture, at least until the lord’s return. Remarkable, Cedrek
still alive after being missing for a year.”

Baus grimaced.
He wondered about the chance crossing of paths with Cedrek; he also
hated the prospect of waiting. When they returned to the village
square, he breathed a restless sigh. Looking this way and that, a
pang of alarm seized him. It was a delicate situation. Surely there
was a way to flee Krintz without alerting suspicion?

A diversion? A
sudden flight? A promise to return to Silsoor at a later time?

Not a chance.
Too flimsy.

Neither he nor
Valere could possibly range far before the Vulde unleashed a horde
on their tail.

The three
arrived back at Woybur’s obelisk. Baus noted the Dakkaw suffered
more unwanted attention. From a side view, the ogre’s body was
chafed and raw, his huge hands writhed at the ropes that bound him.
His defiance was fantastic, even amidst the jeers. His tumult
drowned the plaza. Despite the Dakkaw’s unconventional size, the
obelisk rose another twenty feet, with its age-black tip tapering
to a pike. Its exterior was a rich composite of grey, brown, and
old green stone that glistened like some ancient talisman. Baus
marvelled at the construct. It was cleft with gashes and chipped in
places as if it had suffered many ravages over the years.

The three
edged around the obelisk’s sunny side and pushed through the mob
without compunction. A knot of labourers erected a crude
scaffolding by his side—a sweating and pinch-faced crew, taking
pains not to tread too closely to the Dakkaw’s rippling muscles.
Other workers arrived, hefting rope and pulleys and with arms full
of branches and faggots for the burning to come. Obviously the
Dakkaw was to be burnt or hanged, if not both.

Tulesio
motioned brusquely to the rude gathering. “These roustabouts all
pitch in because it is their pledge to Krintz. They know that it
shall all be over at this time tomorrow. The ogre shall be
dispatched, by as painful means as possible.” Tulesio frowned. “The
Krintz folk have suffered and planned this day for years. There is
to be an early celebration alongside the coming of the fall feast.
The Dakkaw’s death indicates an auspicious omen for our town.”

Valere tipped
his head in sober reflection; Baus licked his lips with dry tongue.
As the two walked within sight of the chained monster, the ogre
loosed a belligerent roar that had everyone’s hair standing on end.
He rocked and heaved against his bonds, hating the sight of them.
The scaffold workers tensed, for they were ready for assault, but
being accustomed to the gut-wrenching outbursts, they grabbed up
hammers, saws and mauls in case the monster should escape. The
thrice-coiled bonds held and the Dakkaw cried out once more: “So,
you lowlife traitors! You would spy out your handiwork? Look hard!”
He grazed Baus a stare of utter malice. “Glut your pleasure.” He
called to the crowd, “Study these dolts carefully! They pretend to
be my friends, then prove themselves perfidious turncoats. And like
you—fools!” He roared at the crowd. “You disassemble sacks of
shallots, little staves bearing ineffectual fruit from sills and
eaves. Ha! You think that by noon on the morrow you shall be rid of
your fiend. Bah! What a hope! If the inner evil of a man can be
burnt, then I will eat my tongue? Your spiritless hides shall all
burn in Krutu’s hells! Let the hours advance! We shall see!”

The Dakkaw
blubbered on, white froth dribbling from his lips. With vivid
knowingness, Baus shivered. The Dakkaw was not a dull fellow.
Perhaps there was something to his prophecy which rang out like hot
knives, his eyes bulging and his neck distended, with veins pumping
on his brow like snakes.

Baus struggled
to find sense in the predicament. The Dakkaw had been beaten and
whipped beyond the call of vengeance. His brown tunic was filthy,
torn with angry scabs running down his forearms. When the monster
spoke, it was through mashed lips, swollen cheeks and broken
teeth—incisors which were ready to champ on the flesh of insolent
tormentors who happened to venture too close.

Baus felt a
sick dizziness in the pit of his stomach. Stealing a glance over
his shoulder, he saw the giant quivering in fury. Two ragged teens
had started pelting his hide with sour apples while a pack of
others chucked a bucketful of turnip skins at him.

Baus hurriedly
stumbled away. A remorseless justice. Ah, well, life was fickle.
Valere and Tulesio hastened to catch up with him, muttering under
their breath.

III

Late in the
afternoon when the Vulde returned to Silsoor in a tumult of
clattering pikes and mood of raucous spirit. Bisiguth seemed to
have brought them both good and bad results, judging from the
modularity of the lord’s movements, and his flushed features. Not
surprisingly, the company escorted Cedrek into the manor’s parlour
and several solemn members of the town watch carried six bins of
jewels with an austere grace, four antique fetishes and a
hodgepodge of bibelots, necklaces, sceptres, figurines, clocks,
spheres, rings, bells and various curios crafted of jade and
onyx.

A squat, husky
shape of familiar proportion was also present. The guards clutched
the grey-faced, struggling Rilben with rancour. The ape’s armour
had been stripped and the loose ceremonial vest that hid the grey
nakedness was soiled and bloodied.

Tulesio
greeted his Lord with enthusiasm: “Good evening, Lord! I see that
Bisiguth has favoured you with decent prizes. How now, the House of
Vulde?”

“No outward
contingencies at least; though this weird, wood-hybrid simian has
me somewhat concerned. We found it skulking about the manor’s halls
with malicious intents. It was trying to brain Fisteo with some
obnoxious oil brush—a ghoul, of some sort, perhaps suffering a
glandular dysfunction.”

“Actually a
ghoul-
ape
, sir. I recognize the creature as one of the
denizens from the lands west of the great, black Tarnshorn
mountains.”

The Vulde
pinched brows into a scowl. “Whatever the case, the thing disturbs
me.”

“No less,
I.”

Rilben voiced
a vigorous protest to the calumny. “You speak of dire things you do
not know! I was merely protecting the property of my master, the
Dakkaw.”

“Silence, you
glib pup!” snarled one of the Vulde’s chiefs. “Your master is no
more—or soon shall be.”

“Peace!”
ordered the Vulde. I’ll not have quips in my home.”

Rilben was
taken away, hauled to some unknown vicinity. Baus stood erect with
hopeful authority. “A clever deed, Vulde. The sight of this
miserable creature is a burden to us all. I remember him well, from
the Dakkaw’s mansion.” However, the sight of Rilben’s ragged
condition had him wondering if his own fate would soon mimic
it.

Meanwhile the
Vulde’s eyes flicked narrowly from the glittering riches to the two
vagabonds, Baus and Valere.

Baus deigned
to scrutinize Cedrek with an uncomfortable foreboding. The
captive’s skin was pasty and pudding-like, like the grizzled hide
of a dead fish, but coated with red welts. Baus squared himself in
the periphery, but seemed to fail at his attempt to look as
guileless as possible in the falling light.

“Well, what
have we here?” called Cedrek jocularly, moving closer. He seemed to
sidle from toe to toe like an agitated stork.

Baus’s voice
echoed richly in the parlour’s stone. “So nice of you to drop in on
us, Cedrek, after all this time. More pleasurably, I see you are
back on your feet.”

“A bizarre
fortune,” chuckled Cedrek. “I was outlining to the Vulde earlier it
was under the most pressing emotional strain that I recently parted
your company and I seem to recall a certain ‘sucker fish’ attached
to my left cheek.”

Baus expressed
shock at the disclosure. “I was under the impression that the
Dakkaw would dunk you in his vat for jokes.”

“From a
superficial standpoint you might think so,” admitted Cedrek, “but
that was yesterday and this is today. Was it not your red-bearded
bully here who tipped the lever to dunk me further into the
Dakkaw’s barrel?”

“A great
exaggeration of facts. As memory has it, it was Valere and I who
tried to unbind your chains but you shouted at us so fulsomely that
we were convinced that you were either mad, or bereft and to be
left alone with the Dakkaw for seasoning of your temperament.”

“A vicious
charade!” Cedrek shouted. “I find this humiliating! I was lucid
even in my last hours of torment!”

The Vulde,
peering crosswise at Cedrek, did not miss the sound of his
fanatical raving and abusive vindictiveness and Baus began to
detect a certain strain digging at the back of the lord’s mind.

Baus continued
with ease. “Captain Valere and I were beside ourselves with
misgiving when we saw your volatile condition. We knew not what to
do! For a certain space there was no hope that the Dakkaw would
release you, though we pleaded with him to redirect his plans. We
had no choice but to take the first opportunity at escape, even if
it meant abandoning you! If not for the Vulde’s absence this
morning, we would have immediately informed him of the news, but
with the imbroglio and other involvements, we were time-bound and
distraught to learn that he had already departed to Bisiguth.”