“When we finish here let’s take a walk.”
“Whatever you say, lover.”
Their route took Rik and Rena out of the outskirts of the Pit and into the more respectable part of town. It was not exactly easy to spot where the change began. The houses just looked a little less run down, the people a little more respectable. There were watchmen on the street, garbed in black tabards and carrying heavy clubs. Even here they moved in groups of four, and they did not swagger, but at least they were not scared to show their faces.
He stood at the top of the slope leading down to the river and watched a massive bridgeback cross the river. The howdah on its back bore the banners of some Exalted house but it was the beast itself that held his interest. Even from up here he could sense its primal hungers, its sloth, the tiny flickers of rage that could, with enough provocation, become a bonfire. It was just his imagination, he told himself, but unease filled his heart just the same. They ducked down another street.
The shops here were of a higher quality. Although some had a burly bruiser standing by the door, at least they were respectful of passing customers. At the end of one street was a small temple, the usual statue of a dragon-winged angel standing guard over the doorway, a small dragonspire rising from its roof. The smell of incense wafted through the air. Rik caught sight of some familiar faces, emerging from inside the building.
There was Sergeant Hef in his temple best, and Marcie and all seven kids following them like ducklings following their mother to the pond. All of the kids had faces freshly scrubbed and the happy, anticipatory air of children on the morning before Solace.
Gunther was there as well, smiling for once and slipping a coin into the collection salver. He, too, was dressed in his temple best, hair washed and combed and slicked back. He seemed to have recovered fully from his encounter with the Ultari. He talked to the children with every appearance of friendliness, like a jovial uncle. It was a side of the fanatic that Rik had never seen before. Maybe going to temple brought it out in him, maybe he was just a nicer man than Rik had ever been prepared to give him credit for being.
Rik was tempted to avoid them. He doubted they would be happy to encounter him after a heavy night with a street girl in tow, but he thought about what had happened to Vosh and who might be looking for anyone who had been on the expedition to the mine, and he decided that he had better pass the happy news along, temple day or not. He was surprised to see quite a few other members of the regiment emerge into the daylight, blinking as their eyes adjusted from the dimness within.
“I need to speak to those men,” he told Rena. “Just wait here and I will be back in a moment.”
“You won’t start any trouble, will you?”
“They are friends of mine.”
He strode forward towards the Sergeant and his wife. The kids looked pleased to see him. “Here’s Halfbreed!” they shouted. He swept Karla, the littlest one up in his arms. She clung to his neck. Marcie gave him a smile. Gunther looked at him as if he had just crawled out of the sewer and was about to piss in the collection plate.
“You’re a little late for the morning service,” said the Sergeant, his monkey-face screwed up in a sardonic smile.
“It’s the last day of Mourning, too. It would have done your soul good to attend.” Gunther added. Rik was less worried about his soul than his life.
“I need to speak to you,” he said to the Sergeant, and recalling that Gunther had been in the mine, added. “To you, too. It’s important.”
Something in his tone appeared to convince them of his seriousness. They waited for him to speak. Rik put Karla down and looked at the kids. “This is not something they should hear.”
Calming the clamouring children down with promises of a swift return and candy, the Sergeant strode into an alcove within the temple doorway. After a moment of hesitation Gunther joined them. In a whisper Rik told them about Vosh, and of Weasel’s suspicions about the hill-men.
“We should report this to the authorities,” Gunther said. “The Exalted will deal with any heathens who get rowdy in Redtower.”
“I wish I had your faith in them,” said Rik. “The watch here is as corrupt as in Sorrow. If the hill-men have money, they can do what they like unless they start a riot or kidnap an Exalted.”
“Maybe in the Pit,” said Gunther. “But they would not dare out here among decent god-fearing people.”
“You might be right,” said Rik. “But I don’t think the Exalted will give a toss about this unless it affects them directly. Throats are slit in the Pit all the time. If you are wrong, you may wake up with more than a nasty taste in your mouth.”
The Sergeant nodded his agreement. “We’ll be moving out in a few days, and I doubt they will try anything in the camp, but if anybody is in town for Solace, then they might be at risk. I’ll tell the lads to be careful and not to wander around on their own.”
“Might be useful if we had a few extra knives at hand as well.”
“I’ll be mentioning it around. There’s a few of the lads will most likely relish the thought of putting a bayonet in a hill-man’s belly if they get the chance.”
“Bloodletting during Mourning is a bad thing,” said Gunther.
“Tell that to the hill-men,” said Rik. “I don’t want trouble any more than you do.”
“Where can I find you if I need to, Halfbreed?” asked Hef. He sounded all business now.
“I’ll be around Mother Horne’s. Weasel will be there too most likely, if you need to get in touch with him.”
Rik raised his hat to Marcie and the kids, and headed back to Rena.
Sardec thought a lot about Asea as he rode through the city. She was lovely and she was one of the First but there was something intimidating and sinister about her as well as attractive.
The First were different. His father had always said that. They had walked the lands of the home world. They had fought in wars and worked sorceries beyond the comprehension of the Farborn. There were times when they seemed as different from them as the Farborn were from humans. He was not sure how these things could be so but they were.
And she was the most forthright Scarlet he had ever met. He knew that such were common in Amber and around the court, but his family belonged to the country estates, and most of the people he knew were far less democratic in their politics. For most Terrarchs being Scarlet had gone out of fashion, they lived in a newer and far more conservative age. Asea was a reminder that once things had been very different. In his secret heart he felt he had less in common with her than with the nobles of Sardea. They, at least, knew how to keep their humans in their places.
Asea genuinely seemed to believe all the Scarlet nonsense about human freedom. Sardec had always held with his father’s entirely sensible view that the Scarlet faction had merely used it as camouflage to support their bid for power. Like most Terrarchs, he believed that politics was about personalities and that what people said was far less important than who they were.
Five hundred years ago, Asea and her ilk had used the Scarlet banner as a rallying point and split the Empire. Sardec did not believe it was entirely coincidental that the split had left them in charge of large, wealthy chunks of it. They would never have had the estates they enjoyed now under the Old Queen’s order. Asea was forcing him to reconsider this. Perhaps, in her case, expediency and idealism had walked hand in hand. Or perhaps she simply wanted him to think that.
He rode a little further. Traffic was thicker now. Lots of carters that had borne produce into town for Solace appeared to be sticking around. Doubtless they were going to sign on with the army once the campaign started. His steed whinnied as it caught the scent of wyrm just a few minutes before Sardec sensed its presence. He backed his destrier away down the street as the bridgeback lumbered into view. Its columnar legs were still wet, and its paws covered in reddish mud. Doubtless it has just waded across the river.
Looking up, he could see a palanquin on its back. Inside was a spectacularly beautiful Terrarch woman and her bodyguards. A white monkey on a gold chain capered along the outside of the howdah. Sardec raised his hat to her. She responded with a languid wave of her fan. Annoyance surged through him.
There was no law against a Terrarch bringing their wyrms into the city. It was just usually not done when
