The Blade of Ryl, page 13
part #1 of Corelle Of Dur Series
“I have served Dur better than I served the women who loved me. Meet me in the tavernroom tonight at the sundown, and we will plan our next action based on what I can learn.”
“You do not wish an earlier meeting? The sand falls.”
“That it does, but we must not rush our actions on the dictates of the hourglass. This must be handled with care and discretion. I will take no satisfaction if I can do no more than slit a throat or two. I wish to know why they act, and who orders it. It may be we can throw back a small fish as bait for others much larger if we roll the dice well.”
He nodded agreement, wished her luck and left. Corelle used some paste to sweeten her breath. Her head still pounded, and her stomach roiled. She drew in a sharp breath and headed for the square.
CHAPTER 17
KRAGE
Atenday after Krage arrived at Estway Farm, Priu and two of his men arrived from Ryl. Krage embraced Priu. They had run Ryl together for many years and had become friends as well as colleagues. The two others, it turned, represented the entire complement of Ryl. The Guild there had always been small, and when they had been forced to shroud one of their members some years before, they had needed an extra member for a time. That member had been Arella, and her arrival in Ryl set in motion the things that led them to this hole in the middle of nowhere, about to flee before the Bailiff’s noose caught up with them.
Another delivery of food had been arranged, but with the arrival of Priu, Krage faced a dilemma. Three more mouths to feed meant they would need more food sooner than he had anticipated. He spoke to Priu about their options—they could head south and live well for the remainder of their days or wait a little longer in case Sisnop came also.
Priu wanted to leave the next day, but Krage argued that since his letters to Sisnop suggested they all meet up at the farm, they should wait a day or two longer. Priu begrudged the courtesy but agreed it would be polite to wait. The journey from Torric would be lengthy for Sisnop and Gillar. If they sailed to Ort, the ship alone would consume more than a tenday, plus the time required to ride from Ort. As they had not yet arrived, either they would not come at all, or they had sailed somewhere on the southern coast of the Eastlands and rode north, which Krage believed would involve a substantial ride.
Priu said that if Sisnop came that way, they might meet him on the road south, and they could turn and head south with him, then all sail south together from whatever port served the coast. Krage argued that would be hard on them, more so if they met them almost at the farm. The harsh ride, repeated straight away without opportunity to rest, would take a toll on them Krage could not bring himself to impose.
In the end, their indecision led them to stay at the farm much longer than a few days. Krage judged he had been at the farm almost a pass before Sisnop arrived. They had indeed sailed to Eastport, a port on the southern coast. The ride north had taken them two tendays, Sisnop thought, and they arrived exhausted. Sisnop had his Senior Aide, Gillar, with him, as well as Carshan, the Portreeve of Torric, and eight of Sisnop’s men. Krage could not disguise his surprise the Torric Guildmeister had brought so many men.
“I needed guards.” Sisnop sounded put out.
“As did I, yet I only brought four with me. The cost to maintain such a large cohort will soon drain your coin.”
“I have plenty of coin, have no fear. I ran Torric, not Ryl.” Sisnop sneered as he replied. “Besides, I brought only seven from Torric, my entire force. Another joined me at Eastport. He had come from Alcmouth, and he recognised me. He told me of some further developments that may be of interest.” Krage raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Corelle has left Dur. It seems she sailed south aboard a ship bound for Vyrrmod. Another went with her, a woman. They left from Ort, and somebody spotted them board the ship. Word had reached Alcmouth through friends not long before this man left the city.”
Krage considered the news. Corelle had left, but that did not mean she would not return. He longed for her death for all she had wrought, all that had brought such hardship to him and the remainder of the Guild. He had been forced to flee and endure lengthy horse rides to the middle of nowhere to avoid the noose, and all thanks to her.
Sisnop had more news. “Raolos is the Bailiff now. Glailam fled after Corelle killed Styrrach, it seems.”
The news irritated Krage, but he had not changed his opinion about Styrrach’s failures. “Styrrach led us to this turn. He should have ensured Corelle died in Zhanghar, as he promised me. Then he failed in his attempt to woo Raolos into the operation, and now that fool is the Bailiff. Curses.”
“I do not disagree with you, but I see opportunities still. The Guild is damaged, but it is not broken. We are still alive, and we are in charge now, in essence. We have good men with us and can return to our operations. We have always operated in secrecy, and with the threat of violence, old partners may still be persuaded to enrich us as before. We would be even richer. We would be in total control.”
Krage did not care for the idea. It seemed far less risky to flee south. Raolos had undone all their trade agreements, he argued.
“That is the reason we must return, and soon.” Sisnop remained optimistic, it seemed. “Before this new way of business becomes normal, at the least. We can reverse our ill fortune if we act. Portreeves can be bought, even when Raolos has replaced them all, as he is sure to. Torric and Zhanghar can be ours again. Torric, at the least. It is not on the Alc and is less well thought of by those who reside in enormous homes in the capital. There is plenty of coin for you and me there, Krage, I assure you. We might even bring Vjort into the organisation, something Styrrach strove for.”
Krage could see the attraction, but he also saw great risk. He cared little enough what became of Sisnop. They belonged to the same organisation, but he knew little of the man from Torric. His own life, however, he guarded with great jealousy. “I will think on it.”
“Do not delay, I urge you. The sand falls. If Raolos’s new trade agreements become normal, we will find it harder to restore the proper order.”
Some days later, news came to them that Raolos had appointed a woman as his Senior Tally Master. All Dur talked about it. To add insult to injury, the woman turned out to be the wife of Wilash, the Guild member who had knocked Gillar from his horse in Torric. Gillar became enraged and wanted to ride to Alcmouth there and then with every member from the farm and strike them both dead.
Krage had been about to inform Sisnop he disliked the plan to re-build the Guild, and he would sail south with Priu and their men. As he listened to Gillar’s incessant tirades against Wilash and his wife, however, the germ of an idea formed in his head. It would keep him in Dur a little longer, but the reward would be priceless, and too tempting to ignore.
To send all their men to Alcmouth in an attempt to obtain revenge for Gillar would be futile; ridiculous even. The woman could still be killed, however, and bring about the promise of something far more important to Krage than revenge on Gillar’s behalf against some man who had knocked him from his horse. More fool him, Krage thought, that he allowed this Wilash to get the better of him.
The true exquisiteness of the death of Wilash’s wife’s murder lay in her death at their hands. Styrrach had killed Corelle’s lover in Alcmouth. If the Guild killed this woman, whatever her name might be, how could Corelle not reappear from whatever hole she lay in? How could she not seek vengeance for the death at the Guild’s hands of another woman associated with her? Such a simple yet beautiful plan, and Krage did not believe the jade could fail to come in search of them. If she came after them, he could be done with her once and for all, and good riddance. Once she had been killed, the south awaited, and a life where he need not look over his shoulder ever again.
He had become rich under Styrrach’s scheme and had grown richer by the day until Corelle killed Styrrach. That frustrated him, but he still had plenty of coin, most of it Styrrach’s before his death. No man could have everything, after all else.
Sisnop rejected the idea. It would be too dangerous to entice Corelle back into their lives. It invited disaster. If Krage did believe the Guild’s days had come to an end, then let them all ride away now, take a ship south and live a good life. No need to invite Corelle to harm that outcome as she had done so many times before.
Of course, Gillar liked the idea, and when Krage suggested they might not only kill the woman and Corelle, but Wilash as well, Gillar chomped at the bit to lead a team to Alcmouth as soon as possible. Sisnop found himself outnumbered, since Priu sided with Krage. Krage had won the argument. Now he needed a plan to make it all come about.
In the end, Sisnop devised the plan. They would send a team to Alcmouth. Four men, no more, since no more would be needed. They would kill the woman—they were killers, after all else. They would slash her throat, in the same way Corelle used to fulfil her gests, then send letters to Wilash to suggest Corelle had killed his wife. He would not believe it, of course, but he must send for her, with his wife dead and the Guild certain to be behind her death. The team would watch and wait until they saw Corelle, then they would lure her into a trap and bring her back to the farm in bonds.
Krage believed Corelle would come to Wilash’s aid. They had worked together to thwart the Guild’s earlier attempt to kill the same woman in Alcmouth, if the stories were true. Every aspect of the plan brought more benefits. Krage instructed Priu to select three good men and leave as soon as could be arranged, though it disappointed Gillar he would not be a part of the operation. Priu and his team left the farm, but Gillar could not be satisfied, and now he and Sisnop outnumbered Krage, who found himself caught in the same trap he himself had sprung days before.
Gillar insisted he would lead another three men to Alcmouth. They would not intervene unless necessary. They would monitor Priu’s team, ensure the woman died, and Corelle re-appeared. They would then assist Priu’s team to capture Corelle. Four men may not be enough; she had proved elusive thus far. Eight men would be too many for her, however. Krage resented the implication Priu could not perform the task, but Gillar and Sisnop would not be dissuaded, and another four men left the farm.
The wait for the return of the two teams and Corelle began, and Krage lay awake at night as he devised a long, painful death for her.
CHAPTER 18
CORELLE
Corelle stood at the entrance to the square and gazed at the throng of people who wandered around the cobbled surface. A small market operated in one corner, and a garment maker’s shop stood close to it along one side of the square perpendicular to the Bailiff’s Offices. If Corelle had wished to watch the Bailiff’s Offices, she would have taken up position opposite them, so a shop at one side of the square would give her a good view of the shops and taverns across from the Offices where the watcher might lie. She wandered through back streets until she could enter the square into the hectic market, filled with shoppers who crowded around the stalls. Most of the stalls seemed to sell clothing, jewellery, and other trinkets rather than foodstuffs.
From the shadows, she watched for a time to satisfy herself nobody circulated around the market, hidden in the crowd, their attention on the Bailiff’s Offices and not the goods on the stalls. Confident the crowd in the market swirled around like water as it runs down a drain, she waited until a tall, handsome man passed her, then fell into step beside him. Any casual observer would take them for a couple who entered the square on whatever business occupied them. He stopped at a stall and looked at a well-made tunic. Corelle commented on the high quality making. He glanced at her and smiled, as a husband might do if his wife ventured an opinion on the tunic he studied. She stayed close to the stalls and glanced at them as she moved toward the garment shop. Nothing about the way she moved would draw any attention as she opened the shop door, took two steps inside, then turned.
Corelle watched the square for a few moments. Nobody came close or peered through the door at her. From behind her, she heard a polite cough, and she turned to face the man behind the counter; the owner, she imagined. She showed him the parch and asked if he had access to an upstairs room with a window that looked into the square.
He did, but he appeared reluctant to let her use the room despite the letters. His shop sold good quality making; not fine, and not as good as her own, but better than many people in Dur would ever wear. Corelle opted for flattery. “Your making is remarkable. I have some skills in making myself, though I am nowhere near your equal. Has the Bailiff ever called in to your shop?”
“That he has not.” Corelle had guessed as much. Raolos measured his worth by his clothes and would demand finer making than this man’s.
She tutted. “I wonder if he could be persuaded to favour you with some business. Of course, if you are not interested in such a customer…”
She had played a high hand. Moments later, she arranged a chair in the room above the shop, set back from the window so she might see but not be seen. The window had not been cleaned for some time, but she had a decent view of the buildings opposite the Bailiff’s Offices.
All morning, men in the yellow uniform of the Bailiff and the red of the Portreeve moved backward and forward across the square. As the midday drew closer, she became more vigilant. The midday would be the perfect time to change one watchful pair of eyes for another. A beautiful summer day had the square thronged with people. Corelle had avoided the Dur winter and spring while she had been in Arkkyd; there had scarce been a cold day throughout her time in the southern city. It seemed she had returned to Dur at the perfect time to continue her enjoyment of the warm weather. With each summer, she aged herself a year, so she arrived in Dur a year older than when she had left. She was now twenty-three years.
Those trained to move in stealth, unnoticed, do not move the way a regular person moves. They glance around and take detours, some instinct born out of necessity. They are lithe, more cat than horse, and hold their bodies in a permanent state of readiness. Though Corelle could move unobserved by most, she could not guess how she might blend into a crowd if a trained eye watched for her.
A man entered the square opposite her and headed straight for a tavern across from the Bailiff’s Offices, and she leaned forward as she recognised the characteristics she had looked for. Head down, he changed course to avoid a Bailiff’s man headed for the Offices and confirmed himself to Corelle as a Guild member. As he moved, he remained poised, balanced and ready to flee if he could, fight if it turned to such an outcome. He wore plain dark, inconspicuous clothes, not the bright summer attire of most people in the square, and they stood out, different.
He entered the tavern and Corelle waited. A short time later, a similar man emerged and headed across the square, the reverse journey his accomplice had taken. Guild members, no question about it. The Guild watched Wilash, and when a Guild member watched a person for any time, death followed; today or in a pass, it would arrive once an opportunity presented itself. A great many other people came and went from the tavern, but none resembled the two who had piqued her interest. She noticed movement at an upstairs window, and a face peered down. Corelle wondered at such a novice error until she noticed a buxom woman in a low-cut dress approach the tavern. The allure of plump breasts had betrayed the watcher further.
She watched for around two hours. Of all who entered and left the tavern, none looked suspicious, and the man who had entered at the midday did not emerge. Their eyrie had been discovered. Now she needed a plan that would lead her and Synna to whoever had ordered the vigilance.
As the sun slipped down the sky, she went back down to the shop and enquired about a rear exit. She did not want to roll the dice and leave from the front door where the Guild might see her. The owner showed her to the rear door, and she headed back to The Warm Hearth.
At the tavern, she ordered a goblet of wine and sat at the same table as the previous night to await Synna. It baffled her the Guild would go to such extravagant risk and effort to kill Wilash or her. Their business had been cast down, and those who pulled the strings should have fled south as Glailam had done. Why they waited in Dur, bent on reprisals, she could not fathom.
Synna entered the tavernroom, headed for her table, and she outlined all she had seen. He shared her belief she had seen Guild members. “You had a flimsy plan, but you have turned it to your favour as ever.” He shook his head and smiled.
She squirmed, uncomfortable at the slight praise, anxious to divert the conversation away from it. “It is clumsy, this plan of theirs. Why they expend such energy on this lost cause, I cannot fathom.”
“Revenge for the death of Styrrach, my guess, and for the slight in Torric. Wilash has told you this tale?”
“That he has, but I am uncertain so simple a motive would drive such elaborate work. They have framed Klordia’s death as though I killed her; they observe the Offices. It is too much effort. Some other motivation lies behind these actions, but I cannot see it.”
Synna sat quiet for a time. “Regardless, I feel it is time for another of your weak plans.” He smiled again as he spoke.
As she had sipped at her wine, she had given the matter some thought and come up with some ideas. “Wilash will leave the Offices without his guards. The Guild are bound to follow if they intend to kill him. We mark any who follow him and apprehend them.”
He pursed his lips. “Weak, even by your standards.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We do not know they will follow him. He may not be their mark. If they look for you, they may hold their vigil. If they do follow him, they might have a way to summon reinforcements. We could take two or three, but we do not know how many we face. Wilash is in danger if they come in large numbers. Even if only one of them follows him, and Wilash becomes mixed up in some group as they leave a tavern, the Guild might strike before we can intervene. It is risky. I do not like it.”
