The Stair Of Time (Book 2) (36 page)

Hooknose

After Gaven exited the pit, jogging up the left passage with more spring in his step than one would expect
of a man in his condition, Andaris made his way through the dispersing crowd to a hook-nosed fellow with slicked back hair and a lazy eye—the man who’d been in charge of taking the bets.

“I’d like to speak with the
champion,
” Andaris told him, tone exhibiting the sort of conspiratorial cunning that men like him so prized.

Sure enough, H
ooknose rewarded him with a sly grin and, after checking to make sure no one was eavesdropping, said, “Join the club, my young friend. 
Gaven the
Magnanimous
is a very popular individual, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Andaris
made a concerted effort not to pull away, for the man’s breath reeked, wafting past rotting black stumps with surprising enmity, voice a furtive whisper seeming specifically designed to make one’s skin crawl, the filth of his breath and soul making Andaris long for a bath.

“He gives the people an entertaining show,” Hooknose went on, one eye drifting away as the other focused.  “But he only kills
when absolutely necessary—as I’m sure you
also
noticed.  Sixty-two fights and…he’s still undefeated.  It’s unprecedented.  He took the crown, so to speak, from
Bodin the Eviscerator,
who had thirty-six straight kills.”

Hooknose shook his narrow head and, with a laughing fit that escalated into a coughing fit, spat a glob of yellow mucous into a crusty handkerchief.  “Until Gaven, he was the best we’d ever seen.  But after that match, he was nothing but a fat old fool ready to be put down
, or…
out to pasture
, if you prefer.”

Hooknose barked another laugh.  “The match ended with Gaven
bashing him over the head with his own club.  One of Bodin’s fans had thrown it to him when he’d realized what was about to happen, that he was finally about to lose.  As far as I see it, that’s the best thing about the pit—no rules.”

“So, Gaven’s been on top ever since?” Andaris asked.  “How long has that been?”

“Once a week for sixty-two weeks!” answered Hooknose.  “And I’ve been here for every…single…match.”

That ol’ rascal,
Andaris thought, smiling. 
No matter the situation, he always seems to come out ahead.
  “So…he’s doing pretty well for himself, eh? All that money and fame.  Sounds like a pretty sweet deal.”

Hooknose started to laugh, and then realized Andaris wasn’t joking.  “Well, fame…sure.  But money?  He doesn’t see any of that.  I don’t know how things work where you’re from, but here all the gold goes to the house.
”  He sighed and, once again, his eyes changed position, the left drifting off as the right focused.

Andaris tried to hide his discomfort.

“I suppose his cell is nicer than most, but you put golden bars on a cell and it’s still…well,
just a cell.
  I suppose he gets first pick of the whores.  His Majesty’s always in need of good breeding stock.  But at the end of the day, he’s still just a slave.”

Andaris couldn’t help but gasp.  He tried to cover by coughing into his hand.  This wasn’t how things were supposed to
have happened at all.  Something had gone horribly awry.  But what?  Obviously, the other Andaris had miscalculated. 
Sounds like me,
he thought.  Either that, or things had changed since he’d left the note for himself.
Everything’s breaking down.
Either way, he was now over sixty-two weeks late and, instead of playing cards and drinking ale, Gaven was a slave.

Hooknose didn’t seem to notice the deception, holding out his
now damp handkerchief in what he apparently deemed a very gracious manner.

Andaris shuddered and shook his head.

Hooknose shrugged, as if to say, “Your loss,” and put the foul thing back into his pocket.  “Sooner or later, he’ll either lose or be replaced and…that’ll be that.”  He grinned, making a slashing gesture across his throat.  “I’ve heard stories of men being granted freedom from the stockades, but that’s all they are—stories.  We have a saying here in Endwood: Once a slave, always a slave.”

“So
can you get me in to see him or not?” Andaris asked, swallowing the dread that had clawed its way up his throat, banishing it back from whence it came, to the bowels of his twisting stomach.

Hooknose graced him with yet another rotting grin.  “Maybe I can
, maybe I can’t.  First thing’s first.  Why?”

“Does it really matter
, as long as I can pay?”  Andaris reached down and shook the pouch on his hip.  “As you can see, my purse is full.”

“Hmm, yes…
.  I
can
see that,” said Hooknose, licking his chapped lips.  “But full of what—copper, gold, or…deception?”

Andaris unt
ied the pouch from his belt and handed it over.  “Here.  Judge for yourself.”

Hooknose
snatched it from him with the deftness of a career criminal, fumbled with the purse strings for a moment, then poured several of the coins into his open palm, a greedy light flashing in his dominant eye at the glint of gold.  He took one of the coins and scratched it with his dirty thumbnail, eyeing it with sudden mistrust.

“Where are you from?” he asked.  “I don’t recognize these
engravings.”  He put a coin between his teeth and, with a wince, bit down.

“Again, does it really matter, as long as I can pay?”

Hooknose examined the bite marks and shook his head.  “I suppose not, as long as you can pay
enough.
  It’ll take the lot of ’em for me to do it.  I’ll have to melt these down and have them turned into something else, like flatware, or candlesticks, and that’s not cheap.  My profit will only be three quarters the purse, at best.  Normally, that wouldn’t be enough
,
but business is slow so…I suppose I can make an exception.”

“
Okay,” said Andaris. “But half now, half later.”

Hooknose frowned
, calculated the odds, and sighed.  “You’re hardly in a position to be bargaining but…very well.  Just one thing, though.  You’d better not stiff me on the second half.  I have some very influential friends in this town.  You cross me, and you’re dead.”

Andaris’ hand dropped to
where the hilt of his sword should have been.

Hooknose grinned.  “
Very
new to town, eh?”  His focused eye turned shrewd.  “Word of advice, my young friend.  Although it doesn’t look like it, nearly everyone in this tavern is armed—including
me.
”

Anda
ris nodded.  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Hooknose just stood there, staring at him for what seemed a long time before beginning to count out the coins, dropping half into a
pocket sewn inside the hem of his coat, and handing the rest back to Andaris.

“When and where?” Andaris asked, reattaching the pouch to his belt.

“My shift ends in an hour.  Which way did you come into town?”

Andaris gestured back over his shoulder.

“Okay.  Good.  You remember seeing
a bronze statue of a man on a horse in the middle of the street?”

Andaris nodded
again.

“Good.  If you walk from the head of the statue into the alley, you’ll see a red door.  Knock on the door.  When they ask for the pass
word say, “Dorian’s cat.”  Tell the man behind the door that Garsier sent you, and that he’ll be paid for his trouble.  I’ll meet you there in an hour and a half.  Got it?”

“But how do I know you won’t just rob me?”

Hooknose flashed him yet another rotting grin, this one larger and more menacing than the last two.  “You don’t, but if you want to see your friend before he’s carted out to the slave graves, I’m your man.  And remember, if you tell anyone about this conversation,
I’ll know.
  The guild has eyes and ears everywhere, even amongst the guard.  You try to cheat me or…
tattle,
and you’ll die in an especially unpleasant way.  I promise you.”  Somehow, his rotting grin widened even further, becoming a sinister rictus.

At that moment, Andaris was actually grateful he didn’t have a sword.  There was something especially insidious about this man th
at made him want to run him through on the spot.  It was the same feeling he got when he saw a cockroach peering at him malevolently from beneath a cupboard, twitching antennae testing the air before it went scuttling back to whatever dark crevice it called home.

“All right then, I guess we have a deal,” Andaris told him, not raising his hand t
o shake on it
.
  If he had to touch the man’s flesh, he feared he would vomit.  “I’ll be there.”

“You’d better.  And for the love of all that you hold dear, don’t let anyone see you go into that alley and enter that door.  Got me?”

“Uh, yeah. Got…you,” Andaris answered.

To his horror, Hooknose spat i
nto his hand and held it out to “shake on it.”

Andaris hesitated, staring at it
in disbelief, then swallowed hard, spit into his own hand, and did the unthinkable.  He couldn’t help but cringe, for it felt just as he knew it would—cold and clammy, like something long dead.

What’s the Password?

Night’s dark cloak had wholly unfurled by the time Andaris made his way out the door and into the street.  He smiled, welcoming the gloom with a glad heart, grateful to be free of the human infestation within.  A warm breeze ruffled his hair as he turned left and headed towards the statue, heart feeling lighter with each step.

Streetlamps burned every ten feet or so.  He
was careful to steer clear of the circles of light cast by these lamps, keeping to the shadows as if his life depended upon it.  Which, of course, it might.  Who knew what went on in a place like this after the sun went down?  Cutthroats and hooligans aside, he felt it prudent, if at all possible, to avoid being spotted by the local constabulary.  Hooknose probably wouldn’t take kindly to him showing up at the red door with a squad of soldiers at his heels.

By the time Andaris reached the statue, he estimated about thirty minutes of the projected hour had passed.  He felt extremely uneasy about just walking up and knocking on the door to a den of
thieves. 
Perhaps I’ll wait a bit longer
, he thought, pressing himself deeper into the shadows. 
Maybe Hooknose will show up and I can go in with him.

He waited about fifteen minutes, the cold sweat that had broken out on his
brow now dry.  In that time, he did not see a single passerby.  Apparently, the guards did not patrol this part of the street at night, a fact which probably had everything to do with the door, or rather what lay beyond the door.

A
preternatural stillness settled about him, the air seeming to hold its breath…waiting.  Just as he was starting to rethink his decision, he felt a knife against his back, tip digging cruelly between his shoulder blades.  “Be you Andaris Rocaren?” came a harsh whisper, the blade twisting hard enough to leave scaled indentations in his flesh.

“No! 
I mean…yes!  I’m Andaris.  But how do you—”

The man released a derisive snort.  “Pity, I was lookin’ forward to slittin’ yer fool throat.  I ain’t given no one a good bleedin’
for a while.”

Andaris swallowed, struggling to respond.  “Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait,” he said, proud at how even his voice sounded.  “I have
urgent business with—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, the Cap’n already sent word.  And it’s a good thing for you he did.  Folks don’t typically live long lurkin’ about the entrance to the Blood Guard.”  He gave him a shove towards the door, the knife tip never leaving his back.  “Now
come on, let’s get yer stinkin’ carcass inside!  He’ll be here soon and, trust me, he ain’t the sort ya want ta keep waitin’.”

Andaris nodded, allowing the man to guide him, or
herd
him, towards the entrance.  A few awkward steps later, and they were standing before a blood red door with a sliding panel.  The man brought him to a stop by clamping his hand over Andaris’ left shoulder, the knife pressing even harder. 

“Now,” he said, his
fetid, gin-soaked voice wafting to Andaris’ ears in a gravelly rasp, “knock!”

In no position to argue, Andaris raised his right hand and gave three short raps.  A few seconds passed.  And then,
the panel snapped open, startling him.  He jerked back into the knife, certain that the scalemail shirt had saved him yet again.

“Hold still before the eye of judgment!” ordered the man.  “Yer about to be asked a question.  If ya answer wrong, I’ll gut ya like
the dog you are and feast on yer innards.”

Eye?  What eye?
he wondered.  Through the open panel, he could see nothing.

Then a
pleasant female voice asked, “What is the password please?”

Andaris hesitated, mind having gone suddenly,
terrifyingly, blank.

“Answer her!” whispered the man into his left ear, giving the lobe a tentative lick.  “Mmmm,” he cooed.  “With all that sweat, wouldn’t even need to salt ya.”

Andaris shuddered, but thanked Rodan for the flick of that foul tongue, for with it he remembered.  “It’s Dorian!” he blurted.  “Dorian’s cat!”

A
fter a moment, there came a low click and the door swung inward, revealing an ill-lit interior, a small round table the only visible furniture, the walls stretching away into obscurity, their boundaries
lost in darkness.

“Pity,” said the man, shoving him roughly along, voice tinged with genuine regret.  “Flavor like that’s hard to come by.”

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of trembling beneath his grasp, Andaris repressed another shudder.

“Okay now, you sit in that chair on the left and wait.  You aren’t permitted to see my face, so don’t turn around.”  He gave him a parting kiss on the neck
, disgustingly tender, and then pushed him towards the chair.  “If you do, I’ll slit ya crotch ta lips.  Now, sit quietly.  He’ll be with ya soon.”

There was the
sound of fast retreating footsteps, the sharp echo of heels striking stone fading into the cavernous surroundings with what seemed like choreographed eeriness.  And then only silence.

A single candle stood resolute atop the table, held erect by what appeared to be years of accumulated wax.  The light reached only a few feet beyond, leaving the majority of the room to the transfigurations of his imagination.  As he waited, the dark crept closer, biding its time, looking for its chance to pounce.  Unable to pierce the gloom, Andaris resigned himself to staring moodily at the manic conflagrations of the flame.  He felt a growing sense of unease, as if he were a child and this insignificant lick of fire was the only thing keeping the monsters at bay. 

And then there was the sound of a door opening.  Not the red door.  Indeed, this came from somewhere deep within, the
screeching of hinges and subsequent footfalls echoing to him on a draft of dank air.  The candle flame flickered dangerously, ebbed to near extinction, and then flared back to life, seeming, for a moment, impossibly bright.

“I hear you
‘bout got your throat slit by Grumlie,” said a familiar voice.

Ten s
econds ago, he wouldn’t have believed it possible to be comforted by
that
voice, but after what had almost happened….

“He seemed intent on it,” Andaris
agreed, sitting up straighter in his chair.  “For a moment there, I thought he was serious.”

Now only a few feet away, Hooknose laughed.  “Oh, he was serious all right.  In fact, he seemed quite despondent about how things
worked out.  Seems he thought you were special in some way.  He didn’t just want to kill you and eat you.  He wanted to
play
with you first.”

This time Andaris let the shudder come, feeling it from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.  “Well, that’s just too bad for him, isn’t it?”

Hooknose passed into Andaris’ periphery, taking a seat in the opposite chair.  He smirked.  “You should count yourself lucky.  As upset as he was, I think it was only his enduring terror of me that stayed his hand.”

Andaris all but gaped, trying to imagine what dire machinations Hooknose must have
performed in order to instill such fear, much less terror, in one as besmirched as he.  It was no use.  This was something his mind was either unable or unwilling to fathom.  And it was probably for the best.  Certain paths are better left untrod, figuratively and literally, lest they defile your soul evermore.

“So….  You ready to go see your friend?”

Andaris brightened.  “Now?”

Hooknose got to his feet.  “Despite all, I remain a man of my word.  Let no one say otherwise.”

Andaris nodded and stood.

“All right then, follow me.  I’ve arranged for that section to be free of guards for the next hour or so.  The sooner we go, the more time you’ll have.”

“But how—”

“There are underground tunnels running from here to just about…everywhere.  One of them goes to the stockades.”

When Andaris turned to follow, he found that he had to scurry to keep pace with Hooknose’s long, loping stride.  The same inky blackness he’d observed upon entering stretched before them, only now, suspended
at its center, hung a bright rectangle of light.

Andaris marveled at his benefactor
’s silhouetted back, at the blind trust he showed him.  Then he felt that old familiar itch between his shoulders that told him they were being watched, and not by just one pair of eyes either. 
Grumlie’s probably out there,
he thought,
licking his lips….

After entering the passage, a crudely built affair with dirt walls and stout wooden beams, Hooknose turned right, his steady gait deceptively swift.  They took several more turns, all the tunnels looking the same, before coming to a halt before a battered iron door, warded lock beneath a round pull large enough to accommodate two hands.

Hooknose turned to face Andaris.  “This is the entrance to the stockade
s.  Once inside, it’ll take only a minute or two to reach Gaven.  He’s been notified of our arrival.  And let me say, his excitement about seeing you was rivaled only by his concern about your recent entanglement with
me.
  Said you might as well have made a deal with “The Lost One.”  Whoever that is.  I told him flattery would get him nowhere, and left him to stew in his cell.  You should have seen the look on his face, anger, hope, and worry attempting to form into a single expression.  It was glorious, especially on one as unflappable as he, as
Gaven
t
he Magnanimous.
  Why, if not for my personal shield and threat of torture, I think he might have actually made a run at me.”  Hooknose shook with laughter.  “He’s half mine, you know.”

Andaris
just stared at him.

“Oh yes, it’s quite true.  You see, he was new in town, just as you are, and got in
to a high stakes card game with me and the fellas down at The Roastin’ Pig.  Your friend was pretty deep into his cups, which at the time I thought accounted for his insane pluck.”  Hooknose snorted at the memory.  “He called me a rat-faced scoundrel, right in front of everyone, and proceeded to bet me the entire pot against his freedom.  Well, needless to say…I won.”

Hooknose flashed him a pompous smirk.  “I cheated, of course.  I’d never play someone as lucky as he without a few extra cards
up my sleeve.  Gaven was right to be cavalier in betting his freedom.  After all, he had a triple diamond high blue.  The only thing that beats that, as you may know, is a perfect hand, a quadruple spear high red.  Which, oddly enough, is exactly what I had.  And, as they say, whoever
they
are, the rest is history.”

Andaris seriously considered pummel
ing the man to death with his bare fists.  It would almost certainly be a foolhardy move, considering his lack of weapons and Hooknose’s “personal shield.”  Like as not, Andaris would be the one to end up dead, which would serve nobody—except maybe Grumlie.  Even so, he managed to control himself by only the narrowest of margins.

“Now keep your trap shut!” Hooknose
snarled.  “And don’t try anything just because there aren’t any guards.  I see the gleam in your eyes.  I’ve seen it before in men with twice your spine…and I’m still here.

Remember, you and your friend are unarmed. 
I
am not.  Moreover, I’ve arranged for a little
extra
insurance, if you know what I mean.  I didn’t ascend to this position by being stupid or careless.  You see, it seems Gaven has a sweetie by the name of Alicia—one of the fresh new whores brought in from Bowden last year, nineteen and blooming with
innocence
—a farm girl just out of school.”  Hooknose’s mouth twitched upward as if with harmless mischief.  “Truth be told, old as I am, I‘ve gone a few rounds with her myself.  Keeps the spirit young, you know.”

So lucky I’m unarmed,
Andaris thought with rising revulsion, hand once again straying to the absent hilt.

Hooknose pretended not to notice.  “The trouble is,” he went on, “she has a low pain threshold.  She can’t last for more than an hour or so before passing out.  Didn’t take to the whip as quickly as I’d hoped, either.  Her skin is so fair and…easily broken. 
But no matter.  Some have what it takes, and some do not.  It’s just the way of things.”  He got a far off look in his eyes, first the left and then the right, seeming to peer with nostalgic regret at some tender memory.

“So, anyway
.  The long and short of it is this:
Gaven the Magnanimous
and this sweet tart of a girl have developed more than just passing feelings for one another.  This is what we in the business call demonstrative leverage.  For you see, if anything happens to me, I’ve given orders to have her tortured and killed—slowly.”

Despite all that was at stake, Andaris was beginning to regret ever having gotten involved with such a loathsome creature.  His
gut had told him true.  Perhaps he should have listened.  There must have been another way to get in to talk with Gaven.  He could have at least tried.