“Show this fellow you are indeed of the torturers' guild.” The peltast was relaxed, so there was no great difficulty. I knocked his shield aside with my right arm, putting my left foot on his right to pin him while I crushed that nerve in the neck that induces convulsions.
Baldanders
The city at the western end of the bridge was very different from the one I had left. At first there were flambeaux at the corners, and nearly as much coming and going of coaches and drays as there had been on the bridge itself. Before quitting the bartizan, I had asked the lochage's advice about a place to spend what remained of the night; now, feeling the fatigue that had deserted me only briefly, I plodded along watching for the inn sign.
After a time the dark seemed to thicken with each step I took, and somewhere I must have taken the wrong turning. Unwilling to retrace my way, I tried to maintain a generally northerly route, comforting myself with the thought that though I might be lost, each stride carried me nearer Thrax. At last I discovered a small inn. I saw no sign and perhaps it had none, but I smelled cooking and heard the clink of tumblers, and I went in, throwing open the door and dropping into an old chair that stood near it without paying much attention to where I had come or whose company I had entered.
When I had been sitting there long enough to get my breath and was wishing for a place where I could take off my boots (though I was far from ready to get up to look for one), three men who had been drinking in a corner got up and left; and an old man, seeing, I suppose, that I was going to be bad for his business, came over and asked what I wanted. I told him I required a room.
“We have none.”
I said, “That's just as well — I have no money to pay anyway.”
“Then you will have to leave.”
I shook my head. “Not yet. I'm too tired.” (Other journeymen had told me of playing this trick in the city.)
“You're the carnifex, ain't you? You take their heads off.”
“Bring me two of those fish I smell and you won't have anything but the heads left.”
“I can call the City Guard. They'll have you out.” I knew from his tone that he did not believe what he said, so I told him to call away, but to bring me the fish in the meantime, and he went off grumbling. I sat up straighter then, with Terminus Est (which I had had to take from my shoulder to sit down) upright between my knees. There were five men still in the room with me, but none of them would meet my eye, and two soon left. The old man returned with a small fish that had expired upon a slice of coarse bread, and said, “Eat this and go.”
He stood and watched me while I had my supper. When I had finished it, I asked where I could sleep.
“No rooms. I told you.”
If a palace had stood with open doors half a chain away, I do not think I could have driven myself to leave that inn to go to it. I said, “I'll sleep in this chair, then. You're not likely to have more trade tonight anyway.”
“Wait,” he said, and left me. I heard him talking to a woman in another room. When I woke, he was shaking me by the shoulder. “Will you sleep three in a bed?”
“With whom?”
“Two optimates, I swear to you. Very nice men, traveling together.” The woman in the kitchen shouted something I could not understand.
“Did you hear that?” the old man continued. “One of them's not even come in yet. This time of night, he probably won't come at all. There'll be just the two of you.”
“If these men have rented a bedchamber —”
“They won't object, I promise. Truth is, Carnifex, they're behind. Three nights here, and only paid for the first.”
So I was to be used as an eviction notice. That did not disturb me much, and in fact it seemed somewhat promising — if the man sleeping there tonight left, I would have the room to myself. I clambered to my feet and followed the old man up a crooked stair.
The room we entered was not locked, but it was as dark as a tomb. I could hear heavy breathing. “Goodman!” the old fellow bawled, forgetting he had said his tenant was an optimate. “What-do-you-call-yourself? Baldy? Baldanders? I brought company for you. If you won't pay your rate, you got to take in boarders.” There was no reply.
“Here, Master Carnifex,” the old man said to me, “I'll make you a light.” He puffed at a bit of punk until it was bright enough to ignite a stub of candle. The room was small, and held no furniture but a bed. In it, asleep on his side (as it appeared) with his back toward us and his legs drawn up, was the largest man I had ever seen — a man who might fairly have been called a giant.
“Aren't you going to wake, Goodman Baldanders, and see who your lodgemate might be?”
I wanted to go to bed and told the old man to leave us. He objected, but I pushed him out of the room and as soon as he was gone sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed and pulled off my boots and stockings. The weak light of the candle confirmed that I had developed several blisters. I took off my cloak and spread it on the worn counterpane. For a moment I considered whether I should take off my belt and trousers or sleep in them; prudence and weariness together urged the latter, and I noticed that the giant seemed fully dressed. With a feeling of inexpressible fatigue and relief I blew out the candle and lay down to spend the first night outside the Matachin Tower that I could recall.
“Never.”
The tone was so deep and resonant (almost like the lowest notes of an organ) that I was not certain at first what the meaning of the word had been, or even if it had been a word at all. I mumbled, “What did you say?”
“Baldanders.”
