“You thinking of a threesome?”
“You know her or not?”
“A regular of hers, eh?”
“You seen her?”
“Big Ana: tall girl, red hair, white skin, freckles? Getting a bit old for the game?”
“That sounds like her. Can you tell me where to find her?” Kormak jangled his purse. “There’s something in it for you, if you can.”
The girl looked up and down the street. She did not seem particularly busy. She stuck out a slender hand with bitten nails. “Hand it over.”
Kormak gave her one of his silver pieces. It was the ancient type, with a hole in the middle, meant to be strung on cords around the neck. She looked at it in the torchlight, held it up to her eye and laughed. “This is three hundred years old,” she said. “Reign of Albigen the Third. Where did you get it?”
“Give it back if you don’t want it?”
“I want it. I could sell this to a collector. Got any more? We could split the difference on what Miser Tala pays me.”
“I am looking for Ana,” Kormak said. “Tell me where she is. It’s important.”
The girl looked at him and shook her head. “You got it bad for her, eh? Who would have guessed?”
“Yes. I really want to find her,” said Kormak. “You going to tell me or you going to give me the coin back?”
“You said there was more if I could tell you.”
“If you tell me true, I’ll give you another of those but I need to find her fast.”
“I’ll show you where she is then and you can hand over the gelt.”
The girl turned and walked along ahead of him, pausing occasionally to make sure he was still there. Kormak wondered if he was making a mistake trusting her. After all, she could be making this up or she could be thinking of the wrong girl entirely. He shrugged. What choice did he have? This was the only lead he had and if it was wrong he would need to find another way to pick up the trail. He had already followed it too long. One way or another he was going to end this tonight.
“Where you from?” the girl asked. “Not from around here, I can tell.”
“Aquilea.”
“That’s somewhere far west, isn’t it? An island on the verge of the Outer Ocean where the great waterfall drops of the Edge of the World.”
“It’s a mountain land north of Taurea, keep heading north from there and you’ll reach the Plains of Ice.”
“The way I heard it,” the girl said, “head north from anywhere and you’ll hit the Plains of Ice eventually.”
“I heard that too.”
“So you’re a westerner then. You’re a long way from home. Trading in spice and silks I suppose, looking for a ship back.”
She was fishing for information, he knew. Trying to figure out how much he was worth. A thought struck him. “Lead me into a robber’s lair, girl, and you and your friends will all die.”
She laughed in his face. “You’re that tough, eh?”
“Tough enough,” he told her.
She stopped laughing and looked closely at his scarred face. “Yes, I believe that,” she said. “You’re older than I thought at first and I’m guessing you did not get those grey hairs and those scars by being anybody’s easy mark. What you do anyway? Mercenary?”
“Soldier,” he said.
“You sworn to one of the Warlords then?”
“You always ask so many questions?”
“Only when I like the look of a man… or I think he’s wealthy.”
“Which is it in my case?”
“A little of both.”
It was his turn to laugh. “You’re honest at least.”
“You still want to find Ana?”
He nodded.
“Then here we are.” They had paused outside a three story caravansary inn. The sign of some long sort of blue-scaled dragon hung over the doorway.
“The Blue Wyvern,” the girl said. “Ana always goes here when she has some money. Scar the Orc deals her glitterdust and other things. I saw her head this way earlier. She looked a little dazed so I guessed she was coming down and looking to score again.” She held her hand out. “Well, it’s been sweet,” she said. “Pay up and I’ll be heading along.”
“I still haven’t found Ana yet. Wait here and I’ll go in. When I come back out, you’ll get paid.”
“Oh yeah, sure I will. Maybe you would like to sell me the Pale Wizard’s Tower while you are at it.”
“You don’t get paid until I find Ana.”
“Then I am coming in with you.”
“That might not be the wisest thing.” She tilted her head to one side.
“Like that is it? You going to give her trouble, big man?”
“She inside or not?”
“I’m going in. You owe me another coin.”
Kormak shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What’s your name, big man? In case, I need to find you again?”
“Kormak. What’s yours?”
“Nuala.”
They walked up the stairs and through the swing doors of the tavern. The bouncers looked at Kormak but did not say anything. They looked harder at the girl. It seemed as if one of them recognised her and was about to say something.
“She’s with me and I have gold,” said Kormak. He slipped the man a coin.
“The customer is always right,” said the bouncer. They went inside.
“You go into these places a lot?” Nuala asked.
“I’ve been in a few.”
“I could tell.” Kormak strode up to the bar and put a coin on the counter-top. “Beer for me and whatever my friend here is having. And have one yourself,” he said.
The barman poured two drinks and put a coin in the goblet on the stand behind him. “For later,” he said. “The boss does not like it if we drink on the job.”
“Understandable,” Kormak said. “Ana come in?”
“Ana who?”
Kormak tapped another silver coin on the counter-top. “Tall girl, red hair likes glitterdust, knows Scar. Would you like me to draw you a picture?”
The barman looked over at the bouncers. There were two more by the door.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Kormak said. “I need to find her fast though.”
He put the coin on the counter-top and placed another beside it, setting it spinning with a flick of his thumb.
“You a friend of hers?”
“A special friend. A client.”
The barman trapped the coin with his hand. “She went upstairs to see Scar. She looked a bit stunned.”
“He’ll give her something to perk her up, no doubt,” Kormak said.
“No doubt.”
Kormak put another coin on the bar, finished his drink and said, “Maybe he’ll give me the same.”
The barman gave him a professional smile. “You can but ask,” he said. His gaze went to the first floor balcony. An orc was coming out. With him was good-looking, blowsily dressed red-head. She looked down and pointed at Kormak and shrieked. “That’s him, Scar. That’s the bastard who said he’d cut my throat.”
The orc followed her pointing finger. Kormak cursed and began walking towards the stair. Two bouncers moved to block his way.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said.
“No choice, pal,” said the biggest of the two. “You don’t pay our wages. Scar does and she’s a client of his.”
He smiled as he spoke but before he finished the sentence a blow was on its way towards Kormak’s head. Something glittered on the man’s fist. Metal knuckle-dusters, Kormak assumed. He stepped to one side and inside the man’s guard and dropped the man with a punch. His twisted and his elbow buried itself in the second bouncer’s stomach. The man fell retching. Kormak took the stairs two at a time. The red-head kept screaming. “Stop him. He’ll kill me!”
The rest of the bouncers and the clients rushed at Kormak. The orc drew two black steel scimitars. It was not a good sign. Such weapons
were the mark of an orcish blademaster. Forged in the blood furnaces of the shaman smith’s they would resist even the bite of a dwarf-forged blade without notching. Kormak wondered if he could put a knife through Ana’s throat from the distance. The orc fell into a guard position. It was much bigger than Kormak.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Kormak said.
The orc laughed. Its tusks glistened in the lantern-light.
As soon as they crossed blades, Kormak knew he was fighting against a master. The orc was astonishingly fast, skilled and strong. Scar smiled as he brought his blades into play and for a few seconds Kormak was hard put to defend himself. He saw by his opponent’s face that he was not the only one surprised. After a few moments the orc frowned and then gave the slightest nod of acknowledgement, as much to himself as to Kormak, that he faced a worthy foe.
“I shall eat your heart and your liver,” Scar said. “You are worthy.”
Kormak saw Razhak begin to slide away from behind the drug dealer and move towards the further staircase. He cursed, determined that the stealer of flesh would not escape him again.
A faint look of contempt passed across Scar’s face. He obviously thought he was the subject of Kormak’s words. Kormak heard feet on the stairs behind him. He knew it was only a matter of heartbeats before the bouncers were on him and there was no way he could defend himself from them and a warrior of Scar’s skill.
He adjusted his breathing as he had been taught so long ago on Mount Aethelas and unleashed the full fury of his sword arm. Scar went immediately on to the defensive, stepping back and away, defending himself in a whirlwind of blades. Knowing it was risky, but that he had to chance it anyway, Kormak vaulted over the balcony, and landed, knees flexing to take the strain of the fall on a table on the lower floor. Drinks spilled and chairs overturned as patrons scrambled to get away, taken aback by the sudden eruption of a large swordsman in their midst.
Razhak had reached the bottom of the stair and pulled up short, aware that he was going to have to confront the Guardian after all. A look of fear flickered over the face of the female form he wore. Kormak tensed himself to spring when Scar vaulted down from the balcony to land atop the table between him and Razhak.
“It has been a long time since I have had the pleasure of fighting one almost my equal, stranger. Who was your master?”
The dealer stood as ready to fight as talk and Kormak knew that his time was running out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man behind the bar was loading a crossbow. It would be a tricky shot in the crowded bar but all it would take would be a lucky hit and it would all be over. Worse, Razhak was already making her way out through the back way and not only Scar but a room full of panicking patrons now lay between them.
“I do not fight for pleasure,” said Kormak.
“Then fight for your life,” said Scar and sprang. Kormak found himself pressed face to face with the orc, glaring into its red eyes, able to count the stitches of its scar tattoos. The table shuddered under their combined weight. They measured strength against strength for a moment then Kormak attempted to trip the orc. Springing back, Scar landed on the space between the tables, keeping his feet lithe as a cat. He lashed out at Kormak’s leg. The Guardian sprang above the blow, letting it pass beneath him, knowing it was a mistake since it would put him off balance.
Scar struck again and somehow Kormak twisted to parry the blow. He landed badly, losing his balance and rolled away, feet over shoulders, using his momentum as he had been taught. He heard Scar bellowing at the tavern patrons to get out of his way. He smelled burning now. Someone had knocked over a lantern in the confusion. More people were screaming. The crowd was starting to panic.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned ready to strike. He saw Nuala. She tugged at him and pointed towards the door. He saw the sense in what she was saying. There was no point in staying to fight against overwhelming odds; nothing to be gained either. He nodded and shouldered his way towards the doorway, with her following behind. He punched a man down who got in his way, barged another to one side and moments later they were outside.
“Scar needs help, Fat Bulo and his men attacked,” said Nuala. The bouncers nodded and made their way through the doorway adding to the confusion.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said the girl. “I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”
“The trouble is just starting,” Kormak said. “And I am not the cause of it.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were good with a sword,” said Nuala. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone last so long against Scar. He is the best swordsman in the city, possibly excepting the champions of the Four Warlords.”
“He was skilled,” said Kormak. He glanced around warily. Their surroundings were enough to give anyone pause. It was a small, hole-in-the-wall drinking den, deep within the maze of alleys around the Mall. It was little more than a bench, some planks set on beer barrels and a canvas canopy overhead. All around were more tables where people ate and drank. They were surrounded by the bustle of people.
“You have a gift for understatement, stranger,” she said. “They say Scar was the First Blade of the Red Horde. He would still be today perhaps, had he not plotted against the Khan of Khans.”
“Who tells this story, Scar?”
“It’s no joke. He’s killed two score of men since he came to the city, made himself the most feared gang boss in the Mall and you have contrived to make him your enemy.”
“It’s a gift I have, apparently.”
“It does not seem to trouble you all that much. Is your life worth so little to you?”
“I have a job to do here, girl, and I intend to see it done.”
“A job that involves killing some pox-raddled old whore? How can that be important enough to throw your life away?”
“The woman Ana is dead. She has been possessed by a demon.” Nuala looked at him again. Her eyes narrowed. She tilted her head to one side. She looked as if she were trying to judge whether he was sane or not.
“A demon is loose in our city? Which of the sorcerers unleashed it? Mandragora? Khane? And why? They are not normally so careless. They know the Warlords would have their head.”
“None of them. I have followed this demon all the long leagues from Belaria. It flees before me, sometimes, turns at bay at others. Somehow I feel we are reaching the end of the road here, one way or the other.”
“You certainly will, if you offend the likes of Scar.”
“If it is so dangerous, why are you still here?”
“Because you still owe me money.” She smiled as she said it. It lit her face, made her pretty in a way Kormak had not noticed before. He found himself smiling back.
“That is a matter soon settled. It might be best for you if you left me.”
“It might, but I can see that you might need some help soon and you look like a man who can pay well for it.”
“What sort of help can you give me in my task?”
“You might be surprised.”
“I am serious. This is not a game, girl. You could get killed. Or worse.”
“Worse than being killed? I am not one of those women who believe in fates worse than death.”
“Razhak could devour your soul, and steal your flesh.”
“How do you know this?”
“I belong to the Order of the Dawn.”
“I thought they were a legend. I had heard they were all dead.”
“Not all of us. Not yet.”
“And that is why you hunt this demon across the world?”
“I swore an oath. And I keep my promises. For good or ill.”
She tilted her head to one side. Her look was wary and watchful. It reminded him of a nervous bird considering taking flight. “Either you are the most convincing maniac I have ever met or you are serious.”
“I am not a madman.” He did not know why he was bothering to try and convince her of it. He had work to do and
Razhak was getting no easier to find, and yet somehow, he found inertia creeping over him. It has been a long time since he had talked at length with anyone, let alone a pretty woman.
“Tell me about this demon.”
“Why? Are you a sorcerer?”
“No but I know one. He might be able to help you.”
“Wizards are rarely friendly to my order.”
“This one will be friendly to anyone if they have enough cash.”
“What good can he do me?”
“How do you propose to find this demon now? Will you go hunting through the city while Scar and his men hunt you?”
“If need be.”
“That’s your plan? It’s not a very good one.”
“Alas, I find my options are limited.”
“Then what harm will it do to consult my friend? He is a diviner. He may be able to help.”
“And this will of course cost me…”
“Well, I should be paid for the matter of the introduction and he will need money. As I said, he is fond of gold.”
Kormak looked up. The watchmen he had encountered earlier had entered the courtyard. They were looking around and he did not doubt they were looking for him. He put his head down and kept his hand on his sword.
“What is it?” Nuala asked.
“The watch,” he said. “They are looking for me. I gave them those bruises earlier.”
She rose and he thought she was about to take flight. He would not have blamed her. Instead she moved around to where he sat and wriggled onto his knee. Looking over her shoulder he could see the watchmen coming ever closer. In a few heartbeats they would be close enough to recognise him for sure and he could not fight them with the weight of a woman on his lap.
She leaned forward and said, “Be still. This won’t hurt,” then kissed him full on the lips. He was momentarily startled and then he realised what was happening. His face was obscured from view. They looked just like any other street girl and customer in the place. The watchmen certainly would not be expecting this of a Guardian hunting a demon. It was not what he expected himself. He found himself kissing her back and the embrace lasted longer than was strictly necessary for cover.