Deadhouse Landing

‘It’s the answer to all kinds of things,’ Horst muttered. He nodded. ‘Fine. But even if you can fight you still have to pay the shared protection fee – understood?’

‘Agreed.’

‘And my security chief has the last say.’ He turned to Sevall. ‘Get Shear.’

Sevall ran to summon her.

They waited. When Shear drew close Horst did not have to turn to look for it was obvious in the surprised expression and fixed attention of the newcomer. When he felt her at his side he turned to look up her slim lean figure to her tightly braided auburn hair, and of course the strange affectation of the brightly painted half-mask that covered her eyes.

Those eyes, mostly hidden behind the mask, were fixed upon the lad. Horst gestured to him. ‘This fellow wishes to join his cart to the line. You demand approval of all additions. What do you say?’

She approached the newcomer, who, to his credit, did not laugh, or shrink, or give ground to this odd woman. In point of fact it was Horst who found himself becoming uneasy as Shear closed upon the young fellow until the two were nearly touching. Never had he seen anyone endure the strange outlander’s gaze for so long – not even he, and he was her employer.

He was also struck by how similar the two appeared; both in loose unadorned trousers and shirts, both wiry and lean, he with a simple utilitarian longsword at his side, she with twinned equally plain and functional swords at hers.

After a rather uncomfortably long time Shear turned away, without lowering her gaze, and returned to Horst. As she passed, she gave the slightest nod of assent, and Horst found himself releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them. ‘Very good. We leave tomorrow. Your name?’

‘Dassem, sir.’

‘Sir? What do I look like? A damned Bloorian fop? That’s Horst. Caravan-master to you. Your cart will bring up the rear.’

If the young lad was resentful of the order of march he did not show it; he remained oddly calm, tranquil beyond his years. Again Horst was struck by an odd similarity with the outlander swords-woman, Shear. She too projected a strange serenity – even when cutting outlaws in half.

*   *   *

The slight creak of the opening door woke Tayschrenn. His cell was the utter black of any subterranean unlit cave, yet his eyes, like the eyes of all those sworn to D’rek, could penetrate the gloom.

Recognizing the figure now slowly closing the unlockable door behind her, he said, wryly, ‘This in an infraction of the rules, Silla.’

She turned, finger to her mouth. ‘Shh! Quiet.’ She sat next to him on the rope cot. ‘You should go tomorrow,’ she whispered. ‘Tell no one. Just leave. Find a distant temple – any would welcome an adept of your rank.’

He smiled, quite amused. ‘Whatever for?’

She peered round. The open fear in her eyes sobered him. ‘Have you not been paying attention?’

‘Attention to what?’

She raised her open hands, exasperated. ‘To the questionings! The arrests! The disappearances.’

He shrugged. ‘It is normal for any new regime to see to its security.’

Silla lowered her voice even further, fierce. ‘All those being taken were close to Ithell. Don’t you see it? He is working his way up to you!’

‘Who?’

She squeezed her hands between her legs, lowering her head. ‘Tallow – or his people.’

‘Yet you welcomed him.’

‘I did not expect this. He is the Invigilator! An authority in the cult…’ She struggled to find the words, threw out her hands in frustration. ‘Why? Why this? It isn’t necessary!’

Tayschrenn dared to rest a hand on her shoulder. ‘Perhaps it is cult business. Perhaps he is following his duty. Do not worry. I have nothing to fear. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

The look she gave him was one of incredible pity. ‘Oh, Tay. You are so naïve. This is not about doing right or wrong, or following rules. This is about power.’

Feeling rather stung, he removed his hand. ‘I happen to know a thing or two about power.’

She took his hand, squeezed it. ‘Yes. I’ve heard all the stories. That when they awoke you to the Warrens the entire island shook. That all the elders combined could not master you even as a child. None dispute your might. What I am talking about is a different kind of power. Political power. Rulership. You are a threat to those in power now. Promise me you will go … please.’

He shook his head. ‘No. I will not flee. That would be tantamount to an admission of guilt. I have done nothing wrong. I welcome any questioning. I will be exonerated.’

Her sad look remained. ‘Oh, Tay … you think you cannot be touched. But you can. One day you’ll see.’ She pulled her hand away and he was surprised by how cold his own quickly felt. At the door she paused, whispering, ‘I hope it will not break you when it happens.’

*   *   *

Two days later they came for him.