Alexey Pehov - Chasers of the Wind

“Oh,” said the man, looking at his reflection in the knife with dismay. “It seems it really is sharp enough.”

Shen came in from the street. Midge caught sight of him and picked up his whetstone once more. Glaring wickedly at Mols’s young protégé, Midge once again began sharpening his knife, which still emitted that repulsive sound, much to Whip’s dismay.

“Where’d you lose Bamut?”

“He’s following our friend, while Midge here screws around.”

“It’s curious that you left him. You get bored, little boy?” replied the runt. Whip scowled.

These two just wouldn’t leave each other be. He tried not to pair them up, but what else could he do? Put them on opposite ends of the village? Ah, thanks, Mols! You did me a bad turn, make no mistake!

“Enough!” growled Whip, running out of patience. “I told you yesterday—if you wish to draw each other’s blood, you have to wait until after the mission.”

“Well, we kind of carried out the mission yesterday,” said Shen through clenched teeth, not taking his eyes off Midge.

“It’s for me to decide if we’ve carried it out or not. Midge, get up off your ass and go find Bamut. Consider it the start of your shift. And you, sit down and eat.”

“You took a dislike to me from the start. Is that not so?” said Shen as he sat down on the bench.

Whip waited until his shaf had been brought to him, took a sip, and only then did he answer.

“All right then, lad. I’ll be honest with you. You’re unnecessary to our well-worn threesome. Like a fifth wheel on a wagon. I don’t know what pit Mols dragged you out of. And what’s worse—I don’t know what your deal is. I don’t know if we can count on you, and I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“So you should test me,” said the blue-eyed man.

“How can I? For right now, as long as we can’t verify that you’re good at your job, I, Midge, and even Bamut, good soul that he is, will think you’re a burden.”

Shen scowled and then laughed shortly.

“Say what you like! If you think I’m happy to be in your company, you are sadly mistaken. Gallivanting around the periphery of the Empire, being food for mosquitoes and rubbing shoulders with sullen old fools is not as much fun as you think!”

Whip did not take offense at the word “fools.”

“My, my, aren’t you scholarly. The words you know. ‘Periphery’!”

Shen, realizing he’d blundered, sniffed loudly and began digging into his food. The leader of the team watched him mockingly. This was not the first time the kid had let his tongue slip. Every once in a while he peppered his speech with words or phrases that sounded strange to the ears of a native of the underworld. The lad played his part well, but it was clear he didn’t have enough experience. However, Mols surely had to have a reason for sending him with them.

“Don’t mess with Midge. That’s my advice to you. My friendly advice. And don’t make such a face; you’re still too much of a pup to tangle with the likes of him. Midge will chew you up and spit you out. Leave him alone, I’m telling you.”

“Yeah, sure, that runt will give it to me good!” replied Shen, spearing a piece of pork sausage. “He means nothing to me. I’d rather you talked to me about how much longer we’re going to be hanging about here.”

“We only got here yesterday and you’re already homesick?”

“Imagine that…. So, how long?”

“Right now time is working against our friend. He’s not an idiot; he’s bound to realize that if we could find him, others could, too. A day, maybe two and he and his woman will go into hiding.”

“And?”

“Like I already said, Gray is an intelligent man. He understands that concealing himself will be hard. When there’s such a price on your head, they’ll even follow you down into the Abyss. He could put off the day of his death by running away to the edges of the Inhabitable Lands. He could creep into the swamps of the Blazogs, or into the aeries of the Je’arre, or the forests of the Highborn, but sooner or later he’ll get caught. You don’t just find ten thousand sorens lying about on the road. The hunters will find them, mark my words. There’s only one real option—to get them to leave you alone you have to kill the client.”

“So you think Joch is doomed?”

“Well, I think he has very little chance of seeing the next Feast of the Name.”

“That’s too bad. They say that he disperses money on all the city holidays. Al’sgara will lose much with his death.”

“So will the Viceroy. His hand appreciates the money, too. He’s everything to everyone. I’ve never seen another whose ass can fit so well on three different stools. The Emperor, the Walkers, and his own private interests. Ha! Sometimes I think being the Viceroy isn’t too shabby.”

“Mmm-hmm. It’s a lucrative business. And not boring. All you have to do is be aware, write decrees, report to the capital, and dance with the ambassadors of Nabator and the Golden Mark. That, and rake the money in.”

“You got the gist of it,” grunted Whip. A glimmer of respect slipped into his voice. “By the way, have you been in the guild long? I’ve never heard anything about you before.”

“And who told you I was from the guild?” asked Shen, grinning suddenly.

Whip squinted at him.

“Mols said that you would come with us…”

“But perhaps he said something about why I’d been attached to you?”

No. He had said nothing of the sort. He’d simply ordered Whip to take the young man with him and not to ask any questions.

“I owed him a favor, so he asked me to put you through your paces.”

“Uh-huh.”

It couldn’t be that simple. Why would Mols suddenly send a completely unknown man with them for no discernible reason? Simply to put him through his paces? Whip was not an idiot, and he didn’t believe in such nonsense. Shen understood that but he did not bother trying to reassure the leader.

“I don’t know if you should talk about this with your friends.”

“I shouldn’t. They have very little love for you anyway. Does that mean that you’re not one of us?”

“If you think I’m going to start running around the village with a garrote or with throwing stars then you will have to be disappointed. Anyway, why would you need my help? To get your hands on the reward for Gray and his wife?”

“No. Mols didn’t give such orders.”

“What does Mols have to do with it? With ten thousand sorens you can spit on the guild. Begin a new life, yeah? Have you really never thought about risking it?”

Whip didn’t say anything but by the way he tensed his fists, Shen knew that he had hit the mark.

“It’s not important what I thought about or what I didn’t. What’s important is what I will do in the end. I won’t mess with Gray and Layen without orders from Mols.”

“Are they so dangerous?”

“That’s not the only reason. I never go against the orders I’ve received. No matter how much money is at stake. You don’t understand.”

Shen shrugged his shoulders, indicating that for such a sum he personally would immediately forget about such scruples.

“As far as Gray goes,” continued the leader, “he really is quite dangerous. Do you know his history?”

“No. Only what you’ve talked about amongst yourselves.”

“He arrived in Al’sgara about ten years ago. From somewhere to the southeast. Supposedly before that he had been shooting the Highborn in Sandon. He was very familiar with the bow, and not just with that. He rose very quickly. He began getting the most difficult and high-paying contracts. Certain people in the guild, especially those who ply our trade, didn’t like this. They were found one day in a cesspit. Dead. Midge, by the way, was also among those who were dissatisfied, but he quit while he was ahead. His friends didn’t. By and large, after that incident, no one bothered Ness. And then Mols took the lad under his wing. I worked with Gray once. I can say that he is entirely worthy of respect. He’s the best shot that I know of.”