Authors: Alexey Pehov
“And you’re still mumbling to yourself and expecting the worst, are you?” said Kli-Kli, giving as good as he got. “You have an idiotic outlook on life, Harold! Let’s get going, or we’ll get lost in this crowd.”
The goblin went dashing on ahead—his small size made it easy for him to weave his way through the crush. People stepped on my feet twenty times and made at least ten attempts to foist things I didn’t want on me—from a sponge to a mangy, squealing cat that was on its last legs.
Some inexperienced thief tried to slip his hand into my pocket, but I dodged aside and held Lamplighter’s dagger against his stomach, then pressed the young lad back against the wall of one of the shops.
“Who’s your teacher?” I roared at the pickpocket.
“Eh?” Cold steel against your stomach doesn’t really encourage clear thinking.
“I said, who’s your teacher, you young pup?”
“Shliud-Filin, sir!”
“Is he in the guild?”
“Eh?”
“Are you having difficulty hearing me? If so, you’ll never make a good thief!”
“Yes, my teacher is in the guild, sir.”
“Then tell him to show you who you should rob, and who you’d better leave alone until you have a bit more experience!”
“A-all right,” said the lad, petrified. “Are you not going to call the guard, sir?”
“No,” I barked, putting the dagger back in its sheath. “But if you come near me again … You take my meaning?”
“Yes.” The lad still couldn’t believe that he had got off so lightly.
“Then clear off!”
I didn’t have to say it again. The unsuccessful pickpocket darted away from me like a startled mouse and was lost in the crowd in a moment. I watched him leave. In the distant days of my youth I used to clean out punters’ pockets until I was picked up by my teacher For, who taught me the mysteries of the supreme art of thievery.
“Harold, are you planning to stand here much longer?” asked Kli-Kli, bounding up to me. “We’re all waiting for you! And who was that young lad you were having such a relaxed conversation with?”
“Just a passerby, let’s go.”
Deler, Eel, and Hallas were waiting impatiently for us in a small open area free of trading stalls.
“There’s a barber’s!” said Deler, jabbing a thick finger toward a shop. “Forward, Hallas!”
“Forward? Do you think I’m a horse, then?” The gnome really didn’t want to go.
“Go on, go on,” I said, backing up the dwarf. “You’ll see, you’ll feel better stra—”
I gazed hard into the crowd and never finished the phrase. Over beside the rows of horse traders, I’d caught a glimpse of a painfully familiar figure. Without thinking twice, I went dashing after Paleface, paying no heed to my comrades’ howls of surprise. My eyes could still see the face that I’d spotted just a second before. I had to catch that man, no matter what, and dispatch him into the darkness if I got a chance.
Along the way I almost knocked a tradesman off his feet and tipped over a basket of apples. Taking no notice of the abuse from all sides, I pulled my dagger out of its sheath and held it with the blade along my forearm, so that the weapon would be less obvious to the people around me, and I ran over to the spot where I had seen my old acquaintance just a second earlier.
“What is it?” asked Eel, springing up beside me like a shadow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“Yeah,” I answered, without taking my eyes off the crowd. “A ghost. But, unfortunately, a live one.”
“Who was it?”
“An old enemy,” I said gloomily, putting the dagger away in its sheath.
“There are so many people here … you could have been mistaken.”
“Yes…,” I said after a pause, and ran my eyes round the market again. “I hope I imagined it…”
But I couldn’t have imagined it! That man had been far too like the hired killer Rolio. As we walked back, I kept glancing round all the time, but I didn’t spot anyone who looked like Paleface.
The gnome and the dwarf had disappeared, and the goblin stood alone, hopping from one foot to the other.
“Harold, what’s happening to you? Are you well?” Kli-Kli asked, looking solicitously into my eyes. “Who was it you saw that sent you galloping across the market like a herd of crazed Doralissians?”
“Oh, no one. It was a mistake. Where have Deler and Hallas got to?”
“The dwarf dragged the gnome into a barber’s shop,” Kli-Kli answered. “And what kind of old acquaintance was it, if he deserves your knife blade under his ribs?”
“Paleface,” I replied tersely.
“Oh!” the goblin said, and paused. He had heard plenty about this character. “Did he see you?”
“You know, my friend, that’s the very question that’s bothering me. I hope not, otherwise there’s trouble in store, and not just for me. The character that Rolio works for would be glad to finish us all off.”
“The Master?” the goblin guessed.
“Yes.”
“What are you talking about?” Eel had never heard about any Master.
“Don’t bother your head about it,” I told the warrior. “Let’s just say you could get something sharp under your shoulder blade at any moment. As soon as Hallas gets his tooth fixed we’ll go back, and then Alistan and Miralissa can rack their brains over what to do next. I said we shouldn’t come into Ranneng!”
“The halt was absolutely necessary. You know that perfectly well.”
“You’re very talkative, Eely-beely! Is there some reason for that?” Kli-Kli asked.
“Go and grin at someone else, Kli-Kli,” the Garrakian said good-humoredly. “Let’s go. Deler might need help.”
“I’m warning you now,” I said hurriedly. “I didn’t volunteer to hold the gnome!”
It was annoying that the goblin and the Wild Heart both turned a deaf ear to my warning. I wonder why in certain situations certain people suffer from a selective loss of hearing. I sighed bitterly and trudged toward the barber’s shop, following my comrades.
Hallas, bright red in the face, came leaping toward us out of the door of the shop, almost knocking the jester off his feet. The goblin only just managed to jump out of the way. Deler came flying out after Hallas. The color of the gnome’s face would have put any beetroot to shame.
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“That…!” the gnome roared so loudly that everyone in the market could hear him and pointed back at the door of the shop.
“Shut up!” Deler hissed, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
“I told you, shut up! Let’s get out of here!”
“But what’s happened?” I asked again.
“That cretin who slept with a donkey wants money!” the gnome roared.
“Errr…,” said Eel, who didn’t understand a thing, either. “It’s quite usual to pay a barber money, isn’t it?”
“But not three gold pieces! Have you ever heard of anyone taking three gold pieces for a rotten tooth?”
“No, I haven’t.”
I hadn’t, either. Three gold pieces was a lot of money. For that much you could get all the teeth of half the army of Valiostr pulled out.
“Let’s go, Hallas!” Deler persisted.
“Hey, you! You damned swindler! Come out here! I’ll break all your teeth out for a copper! And I’ll wring your neck for free!”
“Hallas, shut up and let’s get going!” the dwarf yelled, unable to control himself any longer.
“Eel, stop both their mouths, before the guard arrives!” I whispered to the Garrakian when I saw a crowd of idle onlookers starting to gather round us.
The barber made the mistake of looking out of his shop.
“I do beg your pardon,” he babbled, “but I extract teeth using spells bought in a magic shop. The procedure is absolutely painless, that’s why my price is so high.”
“Hold me back,” Hallas told us, and went dashing at the barber with his fists held high.
The barber gave a shrill squeal and slammed the door in the furious gnome’s face. Deler hung on his comrade’s shoulders and Eel jumped in front of the gnome, who was charging like a rhinoceros. I pretended that I wasn’t with them at all, but simply standing there taking a breath of fresh air.
Some public-spirited individual had called the guards, and about ten armed men were already making their way through the crowd in our direction. They hadn’t wasted any time. The Ranneng guard were obviously far more conscientious about their work than the guard in Avendoom. No doubt the frequent clashes between Wild Boars, Nightingales, and Oburs kept the servants of the flexible and corrupt law in a state of constant battle readiness.
We didn’t have time to slip away.
“Problems?” the sergeant of the guard asked me.
“Problems? No, not at all. No problems,” I answered hastily, just hoping that Deler would somehow manage to stop the gnome’s mouth.
“No fairy tales, if you don’t mind!” the soldier said harshly. “Tell me why that half-pint is yelling like that.”
“He’s having a bad day.”
“And that’s why he feels like slugging a respectable barber, is it?” another guardsman chuckled. “A deliberate breach of public order and incitement to affray. Are you going to come quietly or…?”
It doesn’t matter where the guards are from—spend a bit of time in any city and you get to know all there is to know about their kind. Even a Doralissian could tell what it was the lads wanted from us.
“We’re not going anywhere, dear sirs,” said Eel, coming to my assistance and leaving Deler and Kli-Kli to take care of Hallas.
There was something in the Garrakian’s eyes that made the guardsmen take a step back. A wolf facing a pack of yard dogs, that was the thought that came to my mind when Eel blocked their way.
They had the advantage of numbers and—even more important—they had their halberds against our daggers. A very powerful argument in a fight, it must be said. But it was clear that they were still having doubts.
“Oh yes you are, dear sir,” the bold sergeant hissed through his teeth, adjusting his grip on his halberd. “This isn’t your Garrak; we observe the law here!”
Eel’s lips trembled into a barely visible smile.
“If the law was observed in my country the way it is here, there’d be more criminals in Garrak than there are bribe-takers in the guard.”
“Just what are you hinting at?” asked the sergeant, narrowing his eyes malevolently.
Eel gave another faint smile and swayed back thoughtfully on his heels. His hands dropped to the hilts of a pair of Garrakian daggers.
The gesture didn’t pass unnoticed by the soldiers and they all took another step back, as if on command. Hallas had finally shut up, and now he was staring around in amazement at the guards and the crowd watching us, unable to believe that his quarrelsome nature could have attracted so many people.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” said a man who suddenly emerged from the crowd and walked up to the guards. “These are my friends. They’re not from these parts, and they haven’t had time yet to get used to the laws of our glorious Ranneng!”
A sharp nose, blue eyes, light brown hair, about my own age. He had an open, slightly roguish smile and was dressed like a prosperous townsman—probably that was why the sergeant answered him instead of sending him packing.
“They’re disturbing the peace and insulting the keepers of public order,” said the sergeant, with a hostile glance at the Garrakian.
“Of course, of course,” the man whispered sympathetically, carefully taking the sergeant by the elbow and leading him off to one side. “But you understand, they’re from the country, and my friends were never taught good manners. This is their first time in the city. And that thin one over there is my aunt’s nephew, so he’s a relative of mine,” the man said, jabbing his finger in my direction.
“What’s that goon doing?” Hallas asked in amazement.
“Dragging us out of the shithole that you dug for us,” Deler explained to the gnome.
Hallas had enough wits not to start another argument.
“I was supposed to make sure they didn’t get into any trouble,” the man explained to the soldier. “Put yourself in my place, sergeant! If anything happens my aunt will tear my head off and she won’t let me back into the house!”
A silver coin passed from the stranger’s hand into the hand of the commander of the guard.
“Well…,” the sergeant said hesitantly. “We still have to perform our duty and carry out our responsibilities.”
Another coin changed owners.
“Although,” said the guardsman, starting to soften a bit, “following a brief reprimand I could quite well release your … mmm … respected relatives.”
A third silver piece disappeared into his grasping fingers.
“Yes!” said the sergeant with a resolute nod. “I think the Ranneng guard can find more important business to deal with than punishing innocent passersby who haven’t quite settled into the city yet. All the best to you, dear sir!”
“All the best.”
“Let’s go, lads,” the sergeant said to his soldiers, and the guard immediately lost all interest in us and disappeared into the crowd.
The idle onlookers realized that the show was over and busied themselves with other matters. The market started buzzing again and no one paid any more attention to us.