suffered from them, it was easy to forget, to casually dismiss just how debilitating they truly were.
Raw leather rubbed at each one like ground glass as he settled his weight back down. Still, it would not do to hobble over, and so, mustering all his will, Murillio walked, one careful step at a time, to where the foreman and the nobleman stood discussing things with the carter. As he drew closer, his gaze narrowed on the highborn one, a hint of recognition… but where? When?
The carter had been told by the foreman where to take the supplies, and off he went, with a passing nod at Murillio.
The foreman was squinting curiously, and as Murillio drew up before them he spat to one side and said, ‘You look lost, sir. If you’ve the coin you can buy a place at the workers’ table-it’s plain fare but fillin’ enough, though we don’t serve noth-ing but weak ale.’ He barked a laugh. ‘We ain’t no roadside inn, are we?’
Murillio had thought long on how he would approach this. But he had not expected a damned nobleman in this particular scene, and something whispered to him that what should have been a simple negotiation, concluded by paying twice the going rate for a five-year-old boy, might now turn perilously complicated, ‘Are you the foreman of the camp, sir?’ he asked, after a deferential half-bow to the nobleman. At the answering nod, Murillio continued, ‘Very good. I am here in search of a young boy, name of Harllo, who was sold to your camp a few weeks back.’ He quickly raised a gloved hand. ‘No, I have no desire to challenge the propriety of that arrangement. Rather, I wish to purchase the boy’s freedom, and so deliver him back to his, er, terribly distressed parents.’
‘Do ye now?’ The foreman looked over at the nobleman.
Yes, Murillio thought he might know this young man.
‘You are the one named Murillio,’ the nobleman said, with an odd glitter in his gaze.
‘You have the better of me-’
‘That goes without saying. I am the principal investor of this operation. I am also a councillor. Gorlas Vidikas of House Vidikas.’
Murillio bowed a second time, as much to hide his dismay as in proper deference. ‘Councilman Vidikas, it is a pleasure meeting you.’
‘Is it? I very much doubt that. It took me a few moments to place you. You were pointed out, you see, a couple years back, at some estate fete.’
‘Oh? Well, there was a time when I was-’
‘You were on a list,’ Gorlas cut in.
‘A what?’’A hobby of a friend of mine, although I doubt he would have seen it as a hobby. In fact, if I was so careless as to use that word, when it came to his list, he’d probably call me out.’
‘I am sorry,’ Murillio said, ‘but I’m afraid I do not know what you are talking about. Some sort of list, you said?’
‘Likely conspirators,’ Gorlas said with a faint smile, ‘in the murder of Turban Orr, not to mention Ravyd Lim-or was it some other Lim? I don’t recall now, but then, that hardly matters. No, Turban Orr, and of course the suspicious suicide of Lady Simtal-all on the same night, in her estate. I was there, did you know that? I saw Turban Orr assassinated with my own eyes.’ And he was in truth smiling now, as if recalling something yielding waves of nostalgia. But his eyes were hard, fixed like sword points. ‘My friend, of course, is Hanut Orr, and the list is his.’
‘1 do recall attending the Simtal fete,’ Murillio said, and in his mind he was re-living those moments after leaving the Lady’s bedchamber-leaving her with the means by which she could take her own life-and his thoughts, then, of everything he had surrendered, and what it might mean for his future. Appropriate, then, that it should now return to crouch at his feet, like a rabid dog with fangs bared. ‘Alas, I missed the duel-’
‘It was no duel, Murillio. Turban Orr was provoked. He was set up. He was assassinated, in plain view. Murder, not a duel-do you even comprehend the difference?’
The foreman was staring back and forth between them with all the dumb bewilderment of an ox.
‘I do, sir, but as I said, I was not there to witness the event-’
‘You call me a liar, then?’
‘Excuse me?’ Gods below, ten years past and he would have handled this with perfect grace and mocking equanimity, and all that was ruffled would be smoothed over, certain debts accepted, promises of honouring those debts not even needing explicit enunciation. Ten years past and-
‘You are calling me a liar.’
‘No, I do not recall doing so, Councillor. If you say Turban Orr was assassinated, then so be it. As for my somehow conspiring to bring it about, well, that is itself a very dangerous accusation.’ Oh, he knew where this was leading. He had known for some time, in fact. It was all there in Gorlas Vidikas’s eyes-and Murillio now recalled where he had last seen this man, and heard of him. Gorlas enjoyed duelling. He enjoyed killing his opponents. Yes, he had attended one of this bastard’s duels, and he had seen-
‘It seems,’ said Gorlas, ‘we have ourselves a challenge to honour here.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘When you retracted your accusation, well, I admit I thought you were about to tuck your tail between your legs and scuttle off down the road. And perhaps I would’ve let you go at that-it’s Hanut’s obsession, after all. Not mine.’
Murillio said nothing, understanding how he had trapped himself, with the foreman to witness the fact that the demand for a duel had come from him, not Gorlas Vidikas. He also understood that there had been no chance, none at all, that Gorlas would have let him go. Naturally,’ continued the councillor, ‘I have no intention of withdrawing my accusation-so either accept it or call me out, Murillio. I have vague recollections that yon were one judged a decent duellist.’ He scanned the track to either side. ‘This place seems well suited. Now, a miserable enough audience, granted, but-’
‘Excuse me,’ cut in the foreman, ‘but the day’s shift bell is about to sound. The crews can get a perfect view, what with you two on the ridgeline-if you’d like.’
Gorlas winked over at Murillio as he said, ‘By all means we shall wait, then.’
The foreman trundled down the path into the pit, to ensure that the crew captains were told what was going on. They’d enjoy the treat after a long day’s work in the tunnels.
As soon as the foreman was out of earshot, Gorlas grinned at Murillio. ‘Now, anything more we should talk about, now that we’ve got no witness?’
‘Thank you for the invitation,’ Murillio said, tightening the straps of his glove. ‘Turban Orr didn’t deserve an honourable death. Hanut is your friend? Tell me, do you enjoy sleeping with vipers, or are you just stupid?’
‘If that was an attempt to bring me to a boil, it was pathetic. You truly think I don’t know all the tricks leading up to a duel? Gods below, old man. Still, I am pleased by your admission-Hanut will be delighted to hear that his suspicions were accurate. More important, he will find himself in my debt.’ And then he cocked his head. ‘Of course, the debt will be all the greater if I let you live. A duel unto wounding-leaving your fate in Hanut’s hands. Yes, that would be perfect. Well, Murillio, shall it be wounding?’
‘If you like,’ Murillio said.
‘Are your boots pinching?’
‘No.’
‘You seem in discomfort, Murillio, or is that just nerves?’
Bells clanged in the pit below. Distant shouts, and out from the tunnel mouths spewed filthy figures looking barely human at this distance. Runners raced down the lines. Word was getting out.
‘What’s this Harllo boy to you, anyway?’
Murillio glanced back to Gorlas. ‘You married Estraysian D’Arle’s daughter, didn’t you? She’s made herself very… popular, of late, hasn’t she? Alas, I am starting to understand why-you’re not much of a man, are you, Gorlas?’
For all the councillor’s previous bravado, he paled in the late afternoon light.
‘It’s terrible, isn’t it,’ Murillio went on, ‘how every sordid detail, no matter how private and personal, so easily leaves the barricaded world of the wellborn and races like windblown seeds among all us common folk, us lowborn. Why, whatever happened to decency?’
The rapier rasped its way out of the sheath and the point lifted towards Murillio. ‘Draw your weapon, old man.’
Krute of Talient stepped inside. He saw Rallick Nom standing by the window, but it was shuttered closed. The man might as well be standing facing a wall. Oh, he was a strange one indeed, stranger now than he’d ever been before. All that si-lence, all that sense of something being very much… wrong. In his head? Maybe, And that was a
