Alexey Pehov - Chasers of the Wind

Midge let out a relieved breath. He’d been holding his breath the entire time the woman was on the porch.

“Didn’t you used to work as a threesome?” Ness asked Whip.

“That we did,” said the leader wryly, showing just how pleased he was with the circumstances that had foisted a fourth upon him.

“All right, tell me why you’ve come,” said their host, pulling on his shirt.

“Mols sends his regards.”

“There’s no way I’d believe that he sent you all this way just for the sake of a greeting.”

Whip frowned.

“Not just for that. He sent me to tell you that they are offering five thousand sorens for your head. And just as much for Layen.”

The carpenter remained unmoved. “Are you really here to aggravate me and tell me that Mols is that hard up?”

“No, he simply wanted to warn you. In remembrance of your old friendship.”

“That’s very kind of him. How did he find me?”

“How should I know? A little birdie whispered it in his ear. I’m told what to do—nothing more. The reward was offered about two weeks ago. There was a rumor that you were alive. It’s pretty clear that they want to make a trophy out of you. And you must agree that it will be easy to find idiots willing to do anything for that kind of money.”

“Quite so. If there’s one thing in this world of ours that will never change, it’s idiots. Midge, relax and get your hand off your knife.”

“Sorry; habit,” he apologized hastily, and as evidence of his peaceful intentions even stepped back toward the gates.

“So you understand that these whispers of so much money have not gone unnoticed. Your life is at risk.”

“What else did my old friend wish to convey?”

“Not much else. It was Joch Threefingers who named the price.”

Fire flashed in his gray eyes. And then it instantly faded.

“Well. Thank you for the news. Give Mols my thanks.”

“Actually, he’d much prefer that you gave it to him personally.”

“I’ve not been missing Al’sgara so much that I would return.”

“It’s dangerous here—all the rats know you. Don’t flee. We’re staying at the inn. We’ll be there for five or six days. If you change your mind, let us know.”

“An honorary escort?”

“Something like that. Take it easy.”

Without saying a further word, Whip walked to the gates. Midge was the last to exit. True to form, he left walking backward.

I wasn’t about to show them out. That would have been too great an honor. I stayed on the porch, watching as the runt closed the gate behind him. That fellow is truly repulsive. In the good old days in Al’sgara I’d had a face-off with him. At the time, it was Midge who had to step aside. But that doesn’t mean that he recognized my right to take the best contracts. Far from it. It was nothing more than a temporary, forced retreat. And now, despite all the years that have passed, I could expect trouble from him at any moment. I will not turn my back on him.

The unexpected arrival of my former business associates had made quite an impression on me. The Damned take them! Until now I had thought us impossible to find. Five years of moving from place to place and all of it in vain!

We hadn’t lingered anywhere for long, and we didn’t allow ourselves to become acquainted with anyone, let alone befriend them. We held ourselves stiller than the water under the grass. Layen and I knew that regardless of the fact that we were long dead to all, they would keep looking for us. Especially in the first two years.

We successfully avoided the roundups. At that time the Guards, the Viceroy’s soldiers, and the Walkers’ people were searching for a man and a woman. Twice they all but caught us, and twice we escaped by the skin of our teeth. Then, when the worst was over, we kept being cautious. Thus another three years passed. Subsequently, believing that everyone had forgotten about us, I brought Layen to the very outskirts of the Empire. To the south. Beyond the Blazgian swamps. To the forest.

We had spent two tranquil and happy years in this village. Neither my wife nor myself was especially overjoyed to live in such a godforsaken place, but we needed to bide our time, wait it out a little longer, and then head to the sea and try to find passage on a boat of some kind. To sail off somewhere even farther away.

And now, just when I had begun counting the days until our departure, the past, from which we so long and successfully ran, was insensitive enough to just show up at our door. It passes all understanding how they could have found us after we’d run like jackrabbits, twisting our trail so the hounds wouldn’t catch us.

It’s laughable!

That which the spies of the Walkers could not accomplish, that old buzzard Mols had pulled off with ease. How? How, the Abyss take me, had he found us out?

The door swung open and Layen sat down next to me. We were silent for a time. We just listened as Whip’s associates climbed up onto their horses and rode away from the house.

“What do you think?” I asked my wife.

“They speak the truth—you can’t run from the past; sooner or later it will catch up with you. We have maybe a week, but no more. Then it will be too risky to stay here.”

“It’s too bad we’ll have to leave all this. It’s a good house.”

And I really did think it was too bad. It’s funny. All the time I was dreaming about leaving this hellhole, but now the time has come and I am loath to just abandon it. After all, I’d built this house with my own hands.

“These past few years have turned you into a real homebody, my dear,” she said, grinning. “You weren’t like this before.”

“You were different, too,” I said, copying her grin. “The time has come to get back on the road.”

“Mols could be lying. He’s wanted to send Threefingers off to the Blessed Gardens for a long time. And here we are at hand, fortunately for him. There’s nothing we can do but remove the client. And that’s exactly what Mols is counting on. Whip didn’t tell you that he was waiting for your thanks personally for nothing.”

“We’ll have to get rid of Joch, that’s true. But will that really help us? If those who are searching for us are lying in wait, it won’t do any good. They won’t let us live in peace.”

Layen frowned and rested her head on my shoulder. My sun understood who I was talking about, who might still be searching for us. The very same people who were searching for us when we faked our deaths and left Al’sgara behind forever seven years ago….

It was already the second day that the snow had been falling. Massive white flakes dropped continuously from the low gray sky. They settled on the bridges, on the squares, on the trees, on the watchtowers, on the market stalls, on the red tiled roofs, on the spires of Melot’s temple, and on the hoods of the people walking by. Al’sgara the Green, as the capital of the southern province of the Empire was called, had been transformed into Al’sgara the White.

The children were overjoyed at the fresh snow. For everyone else it was just an inconvenience. It was the start of spring, but the snow was pouring down just as if it was the Feast of the Moon (an important religious holiday celebrated in the middle of winter). Such truly awful weather!

I cursed inwardly and rubbed my gloved hands together. My fingers were beginning to go numb. Cold ruled supreme in the attic where I had been loitering for the past three hours. Admittedly, there was nothing surprising about this. The glass was missing from the window and an icy wind was blowing through the attic. Yet another inconvenience was added to this—darkness. The meager light streaming in from the evening street was no help at all. But I didn’t dare light a candle. Of course, the chance that some passerby would see the flame was not all that great, but it wouldn’t do to risk it.