iron lath, just as his fingers clenched on the trigger bar.
Gabriella was already diving before the bolt was launched, flying headlong, out into the space between the roofs.
There was no sudden pain, so she knew the bolt had missed, but now she was also falling.
She slammed into the end of a cartload of straw bales a few seconds after the fugitive. He was already rolling out of the cart and onto the street between boatyards as she landed with outstretched hands. Gabriella rolled out of the cart and slammed onto the cobbles.
Tasting blood, she staggered to her feet. She stumbled off after the fugitive, drawing a sword. She held no illusions that it would be of any use against a crossbow bolt, but she didn't intend to give him the chance to launch another one.
The fugitive dashed towards the large double doors of a warehouse. A small door set into the main doors was ajar. He ducked inside, and Gabriella pushed through a moment later.
The warehouse was half empty, the remaining crates bearing rough scrawls identifying their ownership. It stank of mould and darkness. Bare wooden scaffolds and stairs led up to a catwalk halfway up the wall. The vast space was dark and gloomy, filled with enough pools of shadow to hide an army of ambushers, but there was plenty of dust on the floor, so it was easy to make out the fugitive's tracks.
Trying her best to stick to the shadows herself, Gabriella crept along after the footprints. They led to a trapdoor near the rear of the warehouse. She listened for any sign of the man. There was none. If the cellar was just a bolt-hole, well, even a cornered rat will fight, and the man she was chasing had already showed a willingness to attack. On the other hand, if there was a tunnel to a neighbouring building, or to Kalten's poor excuse for a sewer system, he could be long gone.
She broke off a piece of wood from a crate, opened the trapdoor and tossed it down into the hole, listening for any reaction. There was none, but the wood sounded as if it had hit something, very softly and quietly just before hitting the floor. Taking a deep breath, Gabriella leapt into the hole.
He was waiting for her ten feet down. If she had taken the ladder down she would have got his knife in her back. As it was, he got both her boots in the head, and they tumbled and rolled. The crossbow clattered into the darkness and Gabriella kept a hold of the fugitive's tunic.
He tried to throw her off, spinning and slamming her back against the ladder. Gabriella kneed him in the groin, and then slammed her elbow down between his shoulder blades when he doubled over. She punched him repeatedly before he could recover, then hauled him to his knees and smacked his head against the slick walls until he fell unconscious.
Shaking as she recovered her breath, she leaned against the wall. Was this the man who had shot Rhodon, or just a random sinner? Three people had attacked her as she pursued him, and at least two of them had done so specifically to end that pursuit. That fact suggested that he was more than a man taking an illicit drink.
Now her problem was going to be waking him up.
CHAPTER 3
Rodrigo Kesar watched impassively from a crenulated walkway. The position gave a good view of both the courtyard within the curtain wall, and the esplanade outside and was mercifully out of the way of the people who had to rush around to go places and get things.
Eminence Voivode had taken charge of several guards, and was having them cover the Healers rushing in and out the castle with their shields, as if he thought they were on an open battlefield under constant arrow-storms. Kesar couldn't fault him for his devotion, but he felt those guards could better serve by helping with the perimeter cordon being thrown around the city.
Eminence Fehr was in some kind of argument with vom Kalten's guard captain, and was gesticulating wildly. Doubtless she was trying to take direct control of his troops. Or perhaps she was blaming, or even implicating, them. Kesar wouldn't be surprised.
For his own part, Kesar was content to observe. That, after all, was his talent. The Anointed Lord would probably have heard the news by now relayed to her by a mage, but he doubted that she would want to take any action before reading the report that he would shortly write. Already a courier was being briefed to take a scroll on the first leg of its journey to the Great Cathedral in Scholten.
Rodrigo was careful to keep his expression calm and unreadable. It wouldn't do for anyone to think that an assassin could ruffle any of the Faith's higher ranks. Nor would it do to make light of things and potentially be proved a fool. Kesar always preferred to let others wonder what he was thinking. Usually he was thinking about probabilities. Not odds, he told himself; odds would have made him a gambler, while probabilities made him a mathematician and thinker.
There had been no further shots and so the most likely probability was that the bowman had been after Rhodon, and had already initiated an escape plan. That meant there was no further danger here, except from overly excitable guards getting in each others' way. Kesar had many questions, about who may have hired the assassin, and why, but he knew there was nothing that could be done until the person was found and made to confess his secrets. Until then, Rodrigo wasn't going to be stupid enough to get in the way of all those excited guards.
The ordinary Ducal soldiers of Kalten looked on warily as the Order of the Swords of Dawn took up positions in twos and threes around the esplanade. The Ducal Captain-at-Arms approached the stocky Preceptor DeBarres, commander of the Knights. Short but muscular, with a greying moustache and a pockmarked face, he was the military leader of the Order of the Swords of Dawn west of the Drakengrat mountains. He didn't look round from directing his subordinates as the Captain approached.
'Enlightened One… My troops have the situation under control.'
'I'm sure you have, Captain, and you have my thanks for it. However, the Order will now take charge of security in the surrounding environs, for the sake of the safety of all. We'll try to inform you when we assign your troops to their new positions.'
The Captain's face reddened, his lips thinning. 'My troops — '
'Captain,' DeBarres snapped gruffly. 'You have done your duty to the best of your abilities but the Swords are now in charge here.'
The Captain's spine stiffened, but, instead of saying anything, he looked towards a large, bear-like figure with a blond beard and aristocratic bearing. Duke Freihurr vom Kalten shook his head slightly, and the Captain stepped back a pace.
'Forgive my Captain's over-eagerness, Preceptor. We are all angered by the outrage that took place today.'
DeBarres nodded, and led his men away. Freihurr leaned in slightly to his Captain's ear. 'Don't be too offended. Whoever tried to kill an Enlightened One of the Final Faith is probably connected to the Brotherhood of the Divine Path' The Captain nodded, relieved that the Duke was taking his man's side. He was relieved, but not surprised; he had served Kalten for a long time, and appreciated the loyalty that the Duke had always showed to his people.
'Let these religious types handle their own arguments, while we keep out of it,' Freihurr added.
The Captain nodded, wondering how, if these Knights were so special, they had failed to prevent the attack.
Gabriella rolled her prisoner over onto his front, and tied his hands behind his back with a rope taken from a nearby block and tackle. During the process, she gave him a quick search. He carried no more weapons. She stepped back, deciding not to tie his legs. She wanted him to be able to walk back to the castle. Waking, he mumbled incoherently for a moment before shouting and swearing. He was covered in dirt and bleeding from his scalp. He was pinched-faced, the sort of person who's features were made for sneering. He was trying that now, but it wasn't working.
She watched him thrash his legs around, trying to get himself free.
'This is an arrest by the Order of the Swords of Dawn, for morality offences contrary to the proscriptions of
