Act of Will

of venison and suckling pig. It had been a sumptuous feast. The Razor had been a large, cruel-looking man. He was sprawled out on the table, his flesh still glistening like a dish ready for the carving. There was blood everywhere. It collected in pools on the floor, soaked the fine silks of the dead, and ran into the golden goblets that had fallen with them. A banquet for the dead, I thought to myself. It looked like the final scene of a play.

It was the stuff nightmares are made of, of course, but I was still alive, and the Razor had probably got no more than he deserved. These days it seemed I took my comfort where I could get it.

It was less easy to keep things at arm’s length when we got back to what was left of the inn. The innkeeper was dead, and the stable boy could tell us nothing that we hadn’t guessed. The raiders had asked for us by name before they ransacked the place and set it on fire. The crossbowman in the Hopetown tavern had been no random guest. For whatever reason, the Razor’s honeymoon with the raiders had ended abruptly, as had ours. Whatever purpose we had served had come to an end. They were looking for us, and we could expect no mercy from them now.

SCENE XXXIX Watching

I slept most of the afternoon in the Bricklayer’s Arms, back in Hopetown, while Lisha passed on what we’d learnt to the others. It didn’t seem to me like we had much to report, apart from the knowledge that we would probably be dead by lunchtime.

The Joseph groups, it seemed, had been keeping a low profile over the last couple of days, tending their stalls in the market and having no mysterious visitors or secret meetings. We were no nearer even to determining which group might be connected to the raiders, let alone explaining what that connection was or how we might exploit it. Another blind alley?

Garnet appeared as soon as I woke up, but I was in no mood to defend myself for the state he had been in when I left.

“Don’t start,” I grunted into the pillow. “How was I supposed to know you didn’t drink?”

“Never mind that,” he said hurriedly with a slight twitch. He wanted to know every detail of my experiences at the Razor’s keep. He listened too attentively, and kept asking about what Lisha had done or said or thought. For the first time, I wondered what his feelings for her really were. It probably should have occurred to me ages ago.

“How’s the market?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Tedious,” he said, suddenly gloomy.

“With all that hustle and bustle and trading and sales talk and gold,” I exclaimed, “surely not. Let’s go. Maybe we could get a beer.”

He gave me a pained look.

“Listen, Will,” he began, “about that night. I’d rather you didn’t talk about it in front of the others. About my getting, you know, a bit tipsy.”

“Tipsy?” I said. “No, mate. My grandmother, if I had one, would get ‘tipsy’ on a glass of sweet sherry before dinner. You, on the other hand, got wrecked. Steaming, roaring drunk. Plastered. Blotto. Ratted. You might have been tipsy for a moment three sips into your first beer, but by the time you were tossing your salad all over the bar, you were well and truly monstered.”

“Well,” he muttered, with an embarrassed cough, “be that as it may. Only Renthrette knows, I think, and I’d prefer it if. you know.”

“Say no more,” I agreed chummily. “Silent Will, at your service. Not a word. Water. or, in this case, beer, under the bridge.”

He gave me a doubtful, sidelong glance and we went to the market, or at least I went and Garnet sort of tagged along.

“So which are the stalls we are supposed to be watching?” I asked.

“One of them hasn’t set up today, but that one over there,” he nodded, “the one with the crates in front of it, belongs to Caspian Joseph. Don’t look, though. It’s too obvious.”

“Right,” I said, “I’ll sneak up and buy something.”

I strolled nonchalantly over to Caspian Joseph’s stand and began to paw things over without looking up. It was mainly jewelry: silver brooches set with semiprecious bits of stone. Most of it was glitzy, obvious stuff. In other words, junk. Still, I’ve seen worse. Come to that, I’ve sold worse.

“Can I help you, sir?” said a voice.

“Just looking, thanks.”

He was a burly man of about fifty with a blondish beard streaked with gold and full, flushed cheeks covered with tiny blood vessels fine as cobwebs.

“Something for your wife, perhaps.”

“I’m not married.” I smiled.

“Girlfriend?”

“Kind of,” I said.

“What about a bracelet set with turquoise or amethyst?”

“I don’t think so, thanks.”

“A necklace, perhaps?” he suggested. “I can do you a good discount on one of these. Ironwall silver and imported Thrusian jet. A lovely piece. A nice contrast. What color are the lady’s eyes?”

“Blue,” I said, wondering for a moment if they were.

“Then the jet is too dark. A brooch with a tiger’s-eye pin? Or one of these silver snakes with turquoise eyes? Isn’t that lovely?”

“Yes,” I said, concealing my distaste, “but no thanks.”

“Earrings are always a nice gift. We have a good selection covering a wide price range. Would you care to see some?”

“No, really. I’m just looking,” I said, flustered by his pushiness.

“What about a pendant? We have some just in.”

“Sorry?”

“A pendant. Like this one with the blue sun disk. A very unusual piece. The sapphire is flawed but genuine. I could make a very good price for you. Sir?”

“Yes, all right,” I said quickly. My throat felt dry.

“You’re sure?” said Mithos.

“I’m positive,” I assured him.

“Not just similar?”

“No, this is it. I got a good look at it. He was on his way out of Ironwall as we arrived. I thought of him when we were at that all-you-can-drink blood ritual. The man who took us said something about the victims of the attack. Silver traders. I bet it was the wagon we passed. The merchant was wearing this.”

“So now what?” asked Garnet.

“We have our evidence linking Caspian Joseph to the raiders,” I said.

“It’s not enough to bring the duke down on them,” said Mithos, “and I doubt that arresting him would do more than show our hand. He may not even know anything. We’re better off watching Joseph and tailing anyone he has contact with. That way he could lead us to the next rung in the ladder. We have to get to whoever is controlling the raiders and where they are. At least we can stop watching the other house.”

Garnet-who thought this plan didn’t involve anywhere near enough axes-frowned, but the rest of us agreed.

“And the duke?” asked Orgos.

“Let’s keep this to ourselves for a while,” said Lisha. I gave her a swift look, but her face said nothing.

“You don’t trust him?” Renthrette ventured.

“I’m just not clear on a couple of things. Like how the raiders knew we were in the Sherwood last night.”