2 - The Ruby Knight Page 2

  danger.

  This was a bad time to be out. By day, Cimmura was no

  more dangerous than any other city. bY night, it was a

  jungle where the strong fed upon the weak and unwary.

  Sparhawk, however, was neither of those. Beneath his

  plain traveller's cloak he wore chain-mail, and a heavy

  sword hung at his side. In addition, he carried a short,

  broad-bladed battle-spear loosely in one hand. He was

  trained, moreover, in levels of violence no footpad could

  match, and a seething anger inflamed him at this point.

  Bleakly, the broken-nosed man almost hoped that some

  fool might try an attack. When provoked, Sparhawk was

  not the most reasonable of men, and he had been

  provoked of late.

  He was also, however, aware of the urgency of what he

  was about. Much as he might have taken some satisfaction

  in the rush and cut and slash of a meeting with

  unknown and unimportant assailants, he had responsibilities.

  His pale young queen hovered near death, and

  she silently demanded absolute fidelity from her

  champion. He would not betray her, and to die in some

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  muddy gutter as a result of a meaningless encounter

  would not serve the queen he was oath-bound to protect.

  And so it was that he moved cautiously, his feet more

  silent than those of any paid assassin.

  Somewhere ahead he saw the bobbing of hazy-looking

  torches and heard the measured tread of several men

  marching in unison. He muttered an oath and ducked up

  a smelly alley.

  A half-dozen men marched by, their red tunics

  bedewed by the fog and with long pikes leaning slantwise

  over their shoulders. 'it's that place in Rose Street,'

  their officer was saying arrogantly, 'where the Pandions

  try to hide their ungodly subterfuge. They know we're

  watching, of course, but our presence restricts their

  movements and leaves His Grace, the Primate, free from

  their interference.'

  'We know the reasons, Lieutenant,' a bored-sounding

  corporal said. 'We've been doing this for over a year

  now.'

  'Oh.' The self-important young lieutenant sounded a

  bit crestfallen. "I just wanted to be sure that we all

  understood, that's all.'

  'Yes, sir,' the corporal said tonelessly.

  'Wait here, men,' the lieutenant said, trying to make

  his boyish voice sound gruff. 'I'll look on ahead.' He

  marched on up the street, his heels smashing noisily on

  the fog-wet cobblestones.

  'What a jackass,' the corporal muttered to his

  companions.

  'Grow up, corporal,' an old, grey-haired veteran said

  'We take the pay, so we 'obey their orders and keep our

  opinions to ourselves. Just do your job and leave

  opinions to the officers.'

  The corporal grunted sourly. "I was at court yesterday,'

  he said. 'Primate Annias had summoned that young

  Puppy up there, and the fool absolutely had to have an

  escort. Would you believe he was actually fawning all

  over the bastard Lycheas?'

  'That's what lieutenants do best,' the veteran

  shrugged. 'They're born boot-lickers, and the bastard is

  the Prince Regent, after all. I'm not sure if that makes his

  boots taste any better, but the lieutenant's probably got

  calluses on his tongue by now.'

  The corporal laughed. 'That's God's truth, but

  wouldn't he be surprised if the queen recovered and he

  found out that he'd eaten all that boot polish for

  nothing?'

  'You'd better hope she doesn't, corporal,' one of the

  other men said. 'if she wakes up and takes control of her

  own treasury again, Annias won't have' the money to pay

  us next month.'

  'He can always dip into the church coffers.'

  'Not without giving an accounting, he can't. The

  Hierocracy in Chyrellos squeezes every penny of church

  money until it squeaks.'

  'All right, you men,' the young officer called out of the

  fog, 'the Pandion inn is just up ahead. I've relieved the

  soldiers who were on watch, so we'd better go there and

  take up our positions.'

  'You heard him,' the corporal said. 'Move out.' The

  church soldiers marched off into the fog.

  Sparhawk smiled briefly in the darkness. It was

  seldom that he had the opportunity to hear the casual

  conversations of the enemy. He had long suspected that

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  the soldiers of the Primate of Cimmura were motivated

  more by greed than from any sense of loyalty or piety. He

  stepped out of the alley and then jumped soundlessly

  back as he heard other footsteps coming up the street.

  For some reason the usually empty night-time streets of

  Cimmura were awash with people. The footsteps were

  loud, so whoever it was out there was not trying to sneak

  up on anybody. Sparhawk shifted the short-handled

  spear in his hands. Then he saw the fellow looming out of

  the fog. The man wore a dark-coloured smock, and he

  had a large basket balanced on one shoulder. He

  appeared to be a workman of some kind, but there was

  no way to be sure of that. Sparhawk remained silent and

  let him pass. He waited until the sound of the footsteps

  was gone, then he stepped into the street again. He

  walked carefully, his soft boots making little sound on

  the wet cobblestones, and he kept his grey cloak

  wrapped tightly about him to muffle any clinking of his

  chain-mail.

  He crossed an empty street to avoid the flickering

  yellow lamplight coming through the open door of a

  tavern where voices were raised in bawdy song. He

  shifted the spear to his left hand and pulled the hood of

  his cloak even farther forward to shadow his face as he

  passed through the mist-shrouded light.

  He stopped, his eyes and ears carefully searching the

  foggy street ahead of him. His general direction was

  towards the east gate, but he had no particular fanaticism

  about that. People who walk in straight lines are predictable,

  and predictable people get caught. It was absolutely

  vital that he leave the city unrecognized and unseen by

  any of Annias's men, even if it took him all night. When

  he was satisfied that the street was empty, he moved on,

  keeping to the deepest shadows. At a corner beneath a

  misty orange torch, a ragged beggar sat against a wall. He

  had a bandage across his eyes and a number of authentic-looking

  sores on his arms and legs. Sparhawk knew that

  this was not a profitable time for begging, so the fellow

  was probably up to something else. Then a slate from a

  rooftop crashed into the street not far from where

  Sparhawk stood.

  'Charity,' the beggar called in a despairing voice,

  although Sparhawk's soft-shod feet had made no sound.

  'Good evening, neighbour,' the big knight said softly,

  crossing the street. He d
ropped a couple of coins into the

  begging bowl.

  "thank you, My Lord. God bless you.'

  'You're not supposed to be able to see me, neighbour,'

  Sparhawk reminded him. 'You don't know if I'm a

  Milord or a commoner.'

  "It's late,' the beggar apologized, 'and I'm a little

  sleepy. Sometimes I forget.'

  'Very sloppy,' Sparhawk chided. 'Pay attention to

  business. Oh, by the way, give my best to Platime.'

  Platime was an enormously fat man who ruled the

  underside of Cimmura with an iron fist.

  The beggar lifted the bandage from his eyes and stared

  at Sparhawk, his eyes widening in recognition.

  'And tell your friend up on that roof not to get excited, '

  Sparhawk added. 'You might tell him, though, to watch

  where he puts his feet. That last slate he kicked loose

  almost brained me.'

  'He's a new man.' The beggar sniffed. 'He still has a lot

  to learn about burglary.'

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  Eddings, David - Elenium 2 - The Ruby Knight.txt

  That he does,' Sparhawk agreed. 'Maybe you can help

  me, neighbour. Talen was telling me about a tavern up

  against the east wall of the city. It's supposed to have a

  garret that the tavern-keeper rents out from time to time.

  Do you happen to know where it's located?'

  "It's in Goat Lane, Sir Sparhawk. It's got a sign that's

  supposed to look like a bunch of grapes. You can't miss

  it.' The beggar squinted. 'Where's Talen been lately?

  haven't seen him for quite a while.'

  'His father's sort of taken him in hand.'

  "I didn't know Talen even had a father. That boy will go

  far if he doesn't get himself hanged. He's just about the

  best thief in Cimmura.'

  "I know,' Sparhawk said. 'He's picked my pocket a few

  times.' He dropped a couple more coins in the begging

  bowl. 'I'd appreciate it if you'd keep the fact that you saw

  me tonight more or less to yourself, neighbour.'

  "I never saw you, Sir Sparhawk.' The beggar grinned.

  'And I never saw you and your friend on the roof,

  either.'

  "Something for everybody then.'

  'My feelings exactly. Good luck in your enterprise.

  'And the same to you in yours.'

  Sparhawk smiled and moved off down the street. His

  brief exposure to the seedier side of Cimmuran society

  had paid off again. Though not exactly a friend, Platime

  and the shadowy world he controlled could be very

  helpful. Sparhawk cut over one street to make sure that,

  should the clumsy burglar on the roof be surprised in the

  course of his activities, the inevitable hue and cry would

  not bring the watch running down the same street he was

  traversing.

  As they always did when he was alone, Sparhawk's

  thoughts reverted to his queen. He had known Ehlana

  since she had been a little girl, though he had not seen

  her during the ten years he had been in exile in Rendor

  The memory of her seated on her throne encased in

  diamond-hard crystal wrenched at his heart. He began to

  regret the fact that he had not taken advantage of the

  opportunity to kill the Primate Annias earlier tonight. A

  poisoner is always contemptible, but the man who had

  poisoned Sparhawk's queen had placed himself in

  mortal danger, since Sparhawk was not one to let old

  scores simmer too long.

  Then he heard furtive footsteps behind him in the fog,

  and he stepped into a recessed doorway and stood very

  still.

  There were two of them, and they wore nondescript

  clothing. 'Can you still see him?' one of them whispered

  to the other.

  'No. This fog's getting thicker. He's just ahead of us,

  though.'

  'Are you sure he's a Pandion?'

  When you've been in this business as long as I have,

  you'll learn to recognize them. It's the way they walk and

  the way they hold their shoulders. He's a Pandion all

  right.'

  "whats he doing out in the street at this time of night?'

  That's what we're here to find out. The Primate wants

  reports on all their movements.'

  The notion of trying to sneak up behind a Pandion on

  a foggY night makes me just a little nervous. They all use

  magic, and they can feel you coming. I'd rather not get

  his sword in my guts. Did you ever see his face?'

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  Eddings, David - Elenium 2 - The Ruby Knight.txt

  "no. He had his hood up, so his face was in shadow.'

  The two of them kept on up the street, unaware of the

  fact that their lives had hung in the balance for a moment.

  Had either of them seen Sparhawk's face, they would

  have died on the spot. Sparhawk was a very pragmatic

  man about thingS like that. He waited until he could no

  longer hear their footfalls. Then he retraced his steps to

  an intersection and went up a side street.

  The tavern was empty except for the owner, who

  dozed with his feet up on a table and with his hands

  clasped over his paunch. He was a stout, unshaven man

  wearing a dirty smock.

  "Good evening, neighbour,' Sparhawk said quietly as

  he entered.

  The tavern-keeper opened one eye. 'Morning is more

  like it,' he grunted.

  Sparhawk looked around. The tavern was a fairly

  typical working-man's place with a low, beamed ceiling

  smudged with smoke and with a utilitarian counter

  across the back. The chairs and benches were scarred,

  and the sawdust on the floor had not been swept up and

  replaced for months. "It seems to be a slow night,' he

  noted in his quiet voice.

  "It's always slow this late, friend. What's your

  pleasure?'

  'Arcian red - if you've got any.'

  'Arcium's hip-deep in red grapes. Nobody ever runs

  out of Arcian red.' With a weary sigh the tavern-keeper

  heaved himself to his feet and poured Sparhawk a goblet

  of red wine. The goblet, Sparhawk saw, was none too

  clean. 'You're out late, friend,' the fellow observed,

  handing the big knight the sticky goblet.

  'Business,' Sparhawk shrugged. 'A friend of mine said

  you have a garret on the top floor of the house.'

  The tavern-keeper's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'You

  don't look like the sort of fellow who'd have a burning

  interest in garrets,' he said. 'Does this friend of yours

  have a name?'

  '"not one he cares to have generally known,' Sparhawk

  replied, taking a sip of his wine. It was a distinctly

  inferior vintage.

  'Friend, I don't know you, and you have a sort of

  official look about you. Why don't you just finish your

  wine and leave? - that's unless you can come up with a

  name I can recognize.'

  'This friend of mine works for a man named Platime

  You may have heard the name.'

  The tavern-keeper's eyes widened slightly. 'Platime

  must be branching out. I didn't know that he had

  anything to do with the gentry - except to steal from

  them.'

  'He owed me a favour.
' Sparhawk shrugged.

  The unshaven man still looked dubious. 'Anybody

  could throw Platime's name around,' he said.

  'Neighbour,' Sparhawk said flatly, setting his wineglass

  down, 'this is starting to get tedious. Either we go

  up to your garret or I go out looking for the watch. I'm

  sure they'll be very interested in your little enterprise.'

  The tavern-keepers face grew sullen. "It'll cost you a

  silver half-crown.'

  'All right.'

  "you're not even going to argue?'

  'i'm in a bit of a hurry. We can haggle about the price

  next time.'

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  "you seem to be in quite a rush to get out of town,

  friend. You haven't killed anybody with that spear

  tonight, have you?'

  'Not yet.' Sparhawk's voice was flat.

  The tavern-keeper swallowed hard. 'Let me see your

  money.'

  'Of course, neighbour. And then let's go upstairs and

  have a look at this garret.'

  We'll have to be careful. With this fog, you won't be

  able to see the guards coming along the parapet.'

  "I can take care of that.'

  'No killing. I've got a nice little sideline here. If

  somebody kills one of the guards, I'll have to close it

  down.'

  'Don't worry, neighbour. I don't think I'll have to kill

  anybody tonight.'

  The garret was dusty and appeared unused. The

  tavern-keeper carefully opened the gabled window and

  peered out into the fog. Behind him, Sparhawk

  whispered in Styric and released the spell. He could feel

  the fellow out there. 'Careful,' he said quietly. 'There's a

  guard coming along the parapet.'

  "I don't see anybody.'

  "I heard him,' Sparhawk replied. There was no point in

  going into extended explanations.

  'You've got sharp ears, friend.'

  The two of them waited in the darkness as the sleepy

  guard strolled along the parapet and disappeared in the

  fog.

  'Give me a hand with this,' the tavern-keeper said,

  stooping to lift one end of a heavy timber up onto the

  window-sill. 'We slide it across to the parapet, and then

  you go on over. When you get there, I'll throw you the

  end of this rope. It's anchored here, so you'll be able to

  slide down the outside of the wall.'

  'Right,' Sparhawk said. They slid the timber across the

  intervening space. 'Thanks, neighbour,' Sparhawk said.

  He straddled the timber and inched his way across to the