everything’s calm there, either. The Nameless One is only the beginning, my old bones can feel it. He’ll provide the initial impetus, be the fuse, as the gnomes say, that ignites the powder keg. Then it will choose for itself exactly how to blow up our fragile world. The orcs will get a taste of freedom. Miranueh will break out and run wild, Garrak will go for the twin Empires’ jugular, then they’ll go for each other, the dwarves will go for the gnomes, the gnomes for the dwarves. We’ll be drowning in blood, mark my words.”
“You think so?”
“Harold, my little one. You’re an intelligent man. I knew what I was doing when I spent the best years of my life on you. The learning you received is easily a match for any nobleman’s. How many of the books in my library have you read? All of them? But you still think like a five-year-old child. There’ll be war, mark my words, there will. It’s inevitable. Unless some little miracle happens.”
“Sagot’s will be done,” I muttered gloomily, twirling the glass of wine in my hands.
“His will be done,” For repeated mechanically, and took a huge bite out of a crusty bun. “So what was it that brought you to me?” he asked when he finished chewing.
“What, can’t I even visit an old friend now?” I asked, genuinely offended, and knitted my brows in a frown.
“Not when it would be wiser to lie low. But then, you always were stubborn and took unnecessary risks,” said the priest, gesturing forlornly. “So there’s nothing you need from me, then?”
“Yes, there is,” I sighed.
“Aha!” For declared triumphantly. “
“Refuge for a couple of nights until I set out on a Commission.”
“We have some free cells. Perhaps you might even turn into a priest?” chuckled the former thief, filling the glasses again. “Wait! What Commission? Are your brains completely addled, Harold? You could lose your head here, and yet you’re still chasing after money. That’s the absolute acme of greed!”
“It’s not what I wanted, just the way things have turned out.”
For fixed me once again with the gaze of his brown button eyes and sighed as he refilled his empty glass. “Tell me about it.”
So I told him. Beginning with that ill-fated night when darkness tempted me into paying a visit to Count Patin. For listened without speaking, biting his plump lips and sometimes scratching the wooden table with a fork, as if he were making notes on it. He only stopped me once, to question me in detail about Paleface, and then shook his head with a frown.
“I don’t know any assassin like that in the city. Strange. Where did he come from?”
My story took quite a while, and when I finished my throat was dry. For splashed out some more wine for me and I nodded gratefully.
“You’re four times a fool, Harold. You accepted the Commission, although your life would have been in less danger if you’d gone to the Gray Stones. You used a spell nobody knew anything about, and ended up with a hungry demon on your back. You couldn’t kill Paleface when you had the chance, and now he’ll come back to haunt you again and again. You’ve been taken for a ride. And some mysterious Master no one’s ever heard of before has put in an appearance. Do you admit you’re an ass?”
I nodded.
“And you’re even more of an ass if you intend to go wandering into the Forbidden Territory.”
“It will help me survive in Hrad Spein. Without a map I could be wandering around in there for centuries. Like it or not, I have to, For.”
He said nothing, thinking something over.
“Are you sure you really have to make this expedition?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re a fool, oh, what a fool. What was I thinking of when I took you on as an apprentice? All right, listen. Only go there at night. You’ll get over the wall without any problems. Better do that in the Port City, beside Stark’s old stables. It’s a dangerous area, but it won’t be your first time in that kind of place. You’ll come out straight onto the Street of Men, from there you can get to the Street of the Sleepy Cat, then on to the Street of the Magicians. Don’t even stick your nose out onto Graveyard Street—you know why. The Street of the Sleepy Cat is fairly quiet. If everything goes well, make your way over the roofs—I hope the cladding hasn’t rotted through yet and it’ll take your weight. Traveling way up there is inconvenient, of course, but it’s safe—nobody’s heard that dead men have learned to fly yet. On the Street of the Sleepy Cat there’s an old statue of Sagot—it’s the only quiet spot in the area. You can wait out a spot of bother there, if need be. But you must return from the Forbidden Territory before morning, otherwise you’ll stay in there forever.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked, amazed.
“How?” For chuckled. “I wandered round the place a bit in my younger days—don’t look at me like that, and close your mouth. The gnomes had a bank on the Street of the Sleepy Cat, remember? So I paid it a visit. I couldn’t actually get inside, the doors were really solidly made, but I saw all sorts of things. None of your toothy-fanged bug-eyed monsters. No, I won’t lie, I didn’t see anything like that. In fact, I didn’t meet anyone at all. The place was empty. The streets were dead, as if everyone had just disappeared. Nothing but the wind and strange sounds, and all sorts of visions, too, hideous abominations. I won’t try to frighten you, maybe you won’t see anything of the sort. But you take a piece of meat with you and wrap it as tight as you can in elfin drokr. That material won’t let through any moisture or any smell. And if, Sagot forbid, you happen to run into some bloodthirsty beast or some dead men from the cemetery, you’ll be able to distract them for a few minutes with the meat. Well, I suppose that’s all. Don’t trust your eyes and ears, just do the job and get out of there. Harold, get out of there as quick as you can.”
“And what about the Street of the Magicians?”
“What I don’t know, I don’t know. I never got that far, kid. What I saw on the Street of Men and the Street of the Sleepy Cat will last me for the rest of my life. The first was more or less calm, but the second was full of all sorts of er . . . er . . . unpleasant things.”
