He coughed. Frothy blood filled his mouth. He clenched his fists and screwed up his eyes, furious with himself. Oh well done, Syannis. Well done. Now you really have gone and got yourself killed. And for what? For a city that isn’t even your home? For a gang of greedy merchants who have more in common with the… No. He wasn’t going to think about that. That was the past.
The urge to sit down was a strong one. Or maybe lie down. Curl up on the cobbles and rest for a while. Maybe that would help him find the energy to walk the rest of the way up the hill. Up into Four Winds Square, across the other side, down the Godsway to the House of Gulls by the River Gate. Yes. That was a long way. A little rest first…
Syannis coughed again and spat out another gobbet of blood. Rest meant death. He didn’t have time. He needed to walk, and quickly, and he needed to do it now, and how much it hurt or how hard it seemed really didn’t matter. One foot at a time, he compelled himself to move, staring grimly ahead. When the alley emptied him out into the Kingsway, he hardly noticed the people who came the other way. He staggered on up the hill towards Four Winds Square. The River Gate might as well have been in Varr. Maybe he could get as far as the Eight. Someone would be there. Maybe they could send for a priest. Or that Tigraleff fellow. Whoever he was.
No. Kuy. He needed Kuy. He needed a magician. A healer. His old friend. One step at a time, that was all that mattered.
He was almost at the top of the Kingsway when his legs finally failed him. They simply stopped and buckled and pitched him forward and that was that. He managed to roll over, onto his back, pressed up against a wall, away from the middle of the road. Into the thickest of the shadows, where no one would tread on him. That was the least a man could ask wasn’t it? To get on and bleed to death quietly in a corner somewhere and not be trodden on?
Syannis, once a prince, now a thief-taker, thought about this for a while. A pair of green eyes stared at him, a stray cat. It stopped beside him and started to lick his face. And then, for a time, the thinking stopped.
31
KNIFE WORK
At some point, Berren fell asleep. When he woke up, he could hear Lilissa’s breathing, soft and rhythmic, beside him. He could feel her warmth. For a long time he lay there, still, savouring the moment. He wanted to reach over and touch her, and found himself wondering what her skin would feel like against his fingers. His head, mercifully, was clear.
Light was filtering in through the cellar door. Silently, he rose and crept across to it. Peering through the hole, he could see that there was light in the alley too. Which meant the sun was up in the sky and some hours had already passed since dawn.
‘Lilissa?’ he whispered. He crouched beside her. In the womb of the cellar, even a whisper sounded loud. ‘Lilissa! Wake up!’
She stirred, but didn’t wake. In the little light that filtered through the cracks of the door, he could just about make out her face. Very gently, he reached out and touched her cheek.
‘Lilissa!’
When she stirred again, his hand jumped away. This time she opened her eyes and sat up.
‘I’m cold.’ She yawned and stretched. Berren considered saying something about warming her up and then thought better of it. As if in reward, Lilissa wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. ‘Those men who came after us had swords, didn’t they?’ She shivered. ‘They were city men and they were after us and Master Syannis, weren’t they? What are we going to do? Where can we go?’
Having Lilissa with him, he’d made everything seem like a grand adventure, trying to keep the truth of what had happened pushed to the back of his mind. Now he stopped to think about what it really meant. Men with swords. Not city watchmen or district militia, but snuffers. Even Hatchet had had nothing good to say about snuffers. You keep away from men with swords, my boys. I ain’t got no sway with those sort. You cross ’em and they snuff you out like a candle, and all that’ll happen next is you’ll get swept up and thrown away with the rest of the shit. So just leave ’em be.
‘We need to find Master Sy,’ he said. ‘He’ll know what to do. He’ll keep you safe.’
‘What if he’s dead?’ Lilissa shivered again. ‘What then? What do we do then?’
Berren shrugged. ‘He won’t be dead. Master Sy’s probably the best swordsman in the whole city. He can fight four men. I bet he could fight forty.’ He saw the fight in the alley again, flashing in front of him. Three against one, and the cut-throats hadn’t stood a chance. Remembering made him feel powerful. ‘Come on. We can go back home now.’
‘What if he’s not there? Then what?’ Lilissa let go of him. Berren went to the doors. He opened them. Daylight flooded in, bright enough to make him flinch away.
‘I suppose he might have gone out again. Getting the city soldiers down into the docks to get that VenDormen fellow. Probably need that if he’s got snuffers. District militia wouldn’t go against snuffers.’ He took a deep breath and sighed. ‘All right. If he’s not there, we can go to your house.’
Lilissa shook her head. Berren offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet, then gave her a leg-up out through the doors and into the alley. Her beautiful dress was torn and dirty. Now he could see her in the light again, she looked scared. But still lovely.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go home. Not until I know it’s safe. Isn’t there somewhere else?’
‘There’s the temple on Moon Street.’ Berren hauled himself out through the doors and carefully shut them behind him. ‘We can go there.’
‘Oh,’ said a new voice from somewhere above them. ‘Berren, Berren. I don’t think so.’
Berren jumped. He looked up. Sitting on a first floor window ledge, straight above them, was Hair. Berren backed away, keeping Lilissa behind him. Hair? What was Hair doing here? It didn’t make any sense, but it certainly wasn’t good.
‘I’m not on your patch,’ growled Berren. ‘I got no trouble with you.’
‘Really?’ Hair leered. His hand kept moving to something he had hidden inside his shirt. ‘Not sure One-Thumb thinks the same.’
‘Yeh. Well I’m not on his patch, am I. So he knows what he can do, right?’
‘This is The Maze, thief-taker’s boy. Ain’t anyone’s patch. And besides, someone’s put the word on you, you and your thief-taker master both. Watched you run with your bit of skirt, we did. Been searching The Maze for you all night, and you were right here all the time, eh? Getting some while we was getting rained on. And now it’s morning and here you are.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘Knew this was the right place to keep a look out.’
Being called boy by Hair, who was probably exactly the same age and just happened to be a couple of inches taller, made Berren clench his teeth.
‘All right then, Hair. You want to carry on where we left off? Bring it on.’
‘All right then, I will.’ Before Berren could do anything else, Hair put two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.
‘Run!’ Berren snatched Lilissa’s hand and bolted down the alley. Hair stayed where he was, laughing like a mad-man.
‘Who was that?’ gasped Lilissa behind him. She wasn’t running fast enough, but when he pulled on her hand, she almost fell over. ‘Hey! I can’t go any faster!’
‘That was Hair.’ What did she think he was going to do? Stop for five minutes and tell her all about Master Hatchet and the dung-cart boys and everything else?
‘How did he find us?’
Berren skittered to a halt. Running into the far end of the alley was One-Thumb. There was another boy with him, one that Berren didn’t recognise.
‘Shit!’ He pulled Lilissa off again, this time down a different passageway, one so narrow that the sun barely touched it between its tall walls.
‘Get him!’
‘He’s gone down Wellbottom!’
