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Night arrived. A pair of soldiers appeared with lanterns and sauntered down the line of prisoners, checking the fetters one more time, before heading off to the barracks. From where he slumped, Karsa could see a handful of soldiers stationed at the gate, whilst at least one patrolled the walkway along each wall. Two more stood outside the steps of the headquarters.
The Teblor settled his head against the stone wall and closed his eyes.
Some time later he opened them again. He had slept. The sky was overcast, the compound a mottled pattern of light and darkness. Something had awoken him. He made to stand but a hand stayed him. He looked over to see the native huddled motionless beside him-head lowered as if still asleep. The hand on the Teblor’s arm tightened a moment, then withdrew.
Frowning, Karsa settled back. And then he saw.
The guards at the gate were gone, as were those outside the headquarters. Along the wall walkways… no-one.
Then, alongside a nearby building-movement, a figure sliding through shadows in silence, followed by another, padding along with far less stealth, one gloved hand reaching up to steady itself every now and then.
The two were making directly for Karsa.
Swathed in black cloth, the lead figure halted a few paces from the wall. The other moved up alongside it, then edged past. Hands lifted, slipped back a black hood-
Torvald Nom.
Bloodstained bandages encircling his neck, the face above it deathly pale and gleaming with sweat, but the Daru was grinning.
He drew up to Karsa’s side. ‘Time to go, friend,’ he whispered, raising something that looked very much like a shackle key.
‘Who is with you?’ Karsa whispered back.
‘Oh, a motley collection indeed. Gral tribesmen here doing the sneaky work, and agents from their main trading partner here in Ehrlitan…’ His eyes glittered. ‘The House of Nom, no less. Oh, aye, the thread of blood between us is thin as a virgin’s hair, but it is being honoured none the less. Indeed, with delighted vigour. Now, enough words-as you are wont to say-we don’t want to wake anyone else-’
‘Too late,’ murmured the man chained beside Karsa.
The Gral behind Torvald moved forward, but halted at a strange, elaborate series of gestures from the prisoner.
Torvald grunted. ‘That damned silent language.’
‘It is agreed,’ the prisoner said. ‘I will be going with you.’
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Night arrived. A pair of soldiers appeared with lanterns and sauntered down the line of prisoners, checking the fetters one more time, before heading off to the barracks. From where he slumped, Karsa could see a handful of soldiers stationed at the gate, whilst at least one patrolled the walkway along each wall. Two more stood outside the steps of the headquarters.
The Teblor settled his head against the stone wall and closed his eyes.
Some time later he opened them again. He had slept. The sky was overcast, the compound a mottled pattern of light and darkness. Something had awoken him. He made to stand but a hand stayed him. He looked over to see the native huddled motionless beside him-head lowered as if still asleep. The hand on the Teblor’s arm tightened a moment, then withdrew.
Frowning, Karsa settled back. And then he saw.
The guards at the gate were gone, as were those outside the headquarters. Along the wall walkways… no-one.
Then, alongside a nearby building-movement, a figure sliding through shadows in silence, followed by another, padding along with far less stealth, one gloved hand reaching up to steady itself every now and then.
The two were making directly for Karsa.
Swathed in black cloth, the lead figure halted a few paces from the wall. The other moved up alongside it, then edged past. Hands lifted, slipped back a black hood-
Torvald Nom.
Bloodstained bandages encircling his neck, the face above it deathly pale and gleaming with sweat, but the Daru was grinning.
He drew up to Karsa’s side. ‘Time to go, friend,’ he whispered, raising something that looked very much like a shackle key.
‘Who is with you?’ Karsa whispered back.
‘Oh, a motley collection indeed. Gral tribesmen here doing the sneaky work, and agents from their main trading partner here in Ehrlitan…’ His eyes glittered. ‘The House of Nom, no less. Oh, aye, the thread of blood between us is thin as a virgin’s hair, but it is being honoured none the less. Indeed, with delighted vigour. Now, enough words-as you are wont to say-we don’t want to wake anyone else-’
‘Too late,’ murmured the man chained beside Karsa.
The Gral behind Torvald moved forward, but halted at a strange, elaborate series of gestures from the prisoner.
Torvald grunted. ‘That damned silent language.’
‘It is agreed,’ the prisoner said. ‘I will be going with you.’
‘And if you wasn’t, you’d be sounding the alarm.’
The man said nothing.
After a moment, Torvald shrugged. ‘So be it. All this talk and I’m surprised everyone else in this line isn’t awake-’
‘They would be, only they’re all dead.’ The prisoner beside Karsa slowly straightened. ‘No-one likes criminals. Gral have a particular hatred for them, it seems.’
A second tribesman, who had been moving along the line, reached them. A large, curved knife was in one hand, slick with blood. More hand gestures, then the newcomer sheathed his weapon.
Muttering under his breath, Torvald crouched to unlock Karsa’s shackles.
‘You are as hard to kill as a Teblor,’ Karsa murmured.
‘Thank Hood that Arak was distracted at the time. Even so, if not for the Gral, I’d have bled to death.’
‘Why did they save you?’
‘The Gral like to ransom people. Of course, if they turn out worthless, they kill them. The trading partnership with the House of Nom took precedence over all that, of course.’
Torvald moved on to the other prisoner.
Karsa stood, rubbing his wrists. ‘What kind of trade?’
The Daru flashed a grin. ‘Brokering the ransoms.’
Moments later they were moving through the darkness towards the front gate, skirting the patches of light. Near the gatehouse a half-dozen bodies had been dragged up against the wall. The ground was soaked black with blood.
Three more Gral joined them. One by one, the group slipped through the gateway and into the street beyond. They crossed to an alley and made their way down to the far end, where they halted.
Torvald laid a hand on Karsa’s arm. ‘Friend, where would you go now? My own return to Genabackis will be delayed awhile. My kin here have embraced me with open arms-a unique experience for me, and I plan on savouring it. Alas, the Gral won’t take you-you’re too recognizable.’
‘He will come with me,’ the blue-eyed native said. ‘To a place of safety.’
Torvald looked up at Karsa, brows rising.
The Teblor shrugged. ‘It is clear that I cannot be hidden in this city; nor will I further endanger you or your kin, Torvald Nom. If this man proves unworthy I need only kill him.’
