along, searching for the words “…mystery! Adventure!”
It smelled like shit to Logen. A man lay on his face in the gutter, dead drunk perhaps, or maybe simply dead. Other men passed by, limping and haggard, or standing in threatening groups in doorways, handing round bottles. There were women here too.
“Four marks and I’ll give you a blessing, Northman!” one of them called to Logen as they passed. “A blessing you won’t soon forget! Three, then!”
“Whores,” whispered Longfoot, shaking his head, “and cheap ones too. You like women?”
“Well—”
“You should go to Ul-Nahb my friend! Ul-Nahb on the shores of the Southern Sea! You could buy a bed-slave there. Indeed you could! They cost a fortune, but they train these girls for years!”
“You can buy a girl?” asked Logen, mystified.
“Boys too, if your taste bends that way.”
“Eh?”
“They train them for years, truly. It’s a whole industry down there. You want skilled? Do you? These girls have skills you wouldn’t believe! Or visit Sipani! There are places in that city—phew! The women are beautiful, beautiful every one! Truly! Like princesses! And clean,” he muttered, peering at one of the scruffy women by the roadside.
A bit of dirt didn’t bother Logen any. Skilled and beautiful all sounded too complicated to him. One girl caught his eye as they passed, leaning against a door-frame with one arm up. Watching them pass with a half-hearted smile. Logen found her pretty, in a desperate sort of a way. Prettier than he was anyway, and it had been a long time. You have to be realistic about these things.
Logen stopped in the street. “Bayaz wanted change?” he muttered.
“He did. He was most specific on the subject.”
“There’s money to spare, then?”
Longfoot raised one eyebrow. “Well, perhaps, let me see…”
He pulled out the purse with a flourish and opened it, rooting around inside. There was a loud jingling of coins.
“You think that’s a good idea?” Logen glanced nervously up and down the street. Several faces had turned towards them.
“What’s that?” asked the Navigator, still poking around in the purse. He pulled some coins out, holding them up to the light and peering at them, then pressed them into Logen’s palm.
“Subtlety isn’t one of your talents, is it?” Some of the shabby men in the alley began to move slowly, curiously towards them, two from in front, one from behind.
“No indeed!” laughed Longfoot. “No indeed! I am a straight-talking man, that is my way! Yes indeed! I am a… ah.” He had noticed the shadowy figures sidling towards them now. “Ah. This is unfortunate. Oh dear.”
Logen turned to the girl. “Do you mind if we…” She slammed the door shut in his face. Other doors up and down the street began to close. “Shit,” he said. “How are you at fighting?”
“God has seen fit to bless me with many remarkable talents,” murmured the navigator, “but combat is not one of them.”
One of the men had an ugly squint. “That’s a big purse for a little man,” he said, as he came close.
“Well, er…” murmured Longfoot, creeping behind Logen’s shoulder.
“An awful big load for a little man to carry,” said the other.
“Why not let us help you with it?”
Neither one of them had weapons ready, but by the way their hands were moving Logen knew they had them. There was a third man behind him too, he could sense him moving forwards now. Close. Closer than the other two. If he could deal with that one first, the one behind, his chances might be good. He couldn’t risk looking round, that would spoil the surprise. He’d simply have to hope for the best. As always.
Logen gritted his teeth and flung his elbow backwards. It hit the man behind in the jaw with a heavy crunch, and Logen caught his wrist in his other hand, which was lucky, because he had a knife out and ready. Logen smashed him in the mouth with his elbow again, tearing the blade from his limp fingers as he dropped into the street, head smacking against the dirty cobbles. He whipped round, half expecting to get stabbed in the back, but the other two hadn’t moved too quick. They had knives of their own out, and one had taken a half-step towards him, but he paused when he saw that Logen had the blade up, ready to fight.
It was a meagre kind of a weapon, six inches of rusty iron without even a cross-piece, but it was better than nothing. A lot better. Logen waved it around in the air in front of him, just to make sure that everyone could see it. Felt good. His odds were much improved.
“Right then,” said Logen, “who’s next?”
The other two moved apart, trying to get to either side of him, weighing their knives in their hands, but they didn’t seem in any great rush to come on.
“We can take him!” whispered the squinter, but his friend didn’t look too sure.
“Or, you can have this.” Logen opened up his clenched fist, showing the coins that Longfoot had given him. “And leave us be. This much I can spare.” He swished the knife around a bit more, just to add some weight to his words. “This is what you’re worth to me—this much, no more. What’s it to be?”
The one with the squint spat on the ground. “We can take him!” he hissed again. “You go first!”
“You fucking go!” shouted the other.
“Just take what I’m offering,” said Logen, “then we none of us have to go.”
The one that he’d elbowed groaned and rolled over in the road, and the reminder of his fate seemed to decide them. “Alright, you fucking northern bastard, alright, we’ll take it!”
Logen grinned. He thought about throwing the coins at the one with the squint then stabbing him while he was distracted. That’s what he’d have done in his youth, but he decided against. Why bother? Instead he opened his fingers and tossed the money into the road behind him, moving towards the nearest wall. He and the two thieves circled each other cautiously, each step taking them closer to the coins and him closer to escape. Soon they’d swapped places, and Logen backed away down the street, still holding the knife in front of him. When they were ten paces apart the two men squatted down and began to pick the scattered coins up from the ground.
“I’m still alive,” Logen whispered to himself as he quickened his pace.
That had been lucky, he knew. It’s a fool who thinks that any fight is too small to be the death of him, however tough he is. Lucky that he caught the one behind just right. Lucky that the other two had been slow. But then he’d always been lucky with fights. Lucky at getting out of them alive. Not so lucky with the getting into them. Still, he felt good about this day’s work. Glad he hadn’t killed anybody.
Logen felt a hand clap him on the back, and he span round, knife at the ready.
“Only me!” Brother Longfoot held up his hands. Logen had nearly forgotten the Navigator was there. He must have stayed behind him the whole time, perfectly silent. “Well handled Master Ninefingers, well handled! Truly! I see that you are not without some talents of your own! I am looking forward to travelling with you, I am indeed! The docks are this way!” he shouted, already moving off.
Logen took one last look back at the two men, but they were still grubbing around on the ground, so he threw the knife away and hurried to catch up to Longfoot. “Do you Navigators never fight?”
“Some among us do, oh yes, with empty hands and weapons of all kinds. Most deadly, some of them, but not I. No. That is not my way.”
“Never?”
“Never. My skills lie elsewhere.”
“I would have thought your travels would bring you across many dangers.”
“They do,” said Longfoot brightly, “they do indeed. That is when my remarkable talent for hiding is at its most useful.”
Her Kind Fight Everything
Night. Cold. The salt wind was keen on the hilltop, and Ferro’s clothes were thin and ragged. She hugged her
