Stephen Deas - Warlock's shadow

‘Then best he stay here,’ she replied. Kol twitched,

‘When was the next time you saw Syannis, boy? The truth, now!’

‘I saw him the next day. It was Abyss-day. There was something wrong, I could feel it. He wasn’t hurt, but I knew something bad had happened. He said I had to stay at the temple all the time now. Said he had to go away for a bit. That was it.’

Kol glared at Tasahre again. ‘Boy, think carefully now. Did he have any papers? Anything he might have taken from the House of Records? This is important.’

‘Yes. There were papers.’ Master Sy had taken fistfuls of them and for all Berren knew they were still on Master Sy’s table in his front room for any fool to find. Don’t lie if you don’t have to . ‘I saw some. They were lists of things. I didn’t see much though. Not enough to know what they were. I …’ He hung his head. ‘I don’t read so well.’ There. And that was the truth.

‘And then?’

‘Then I came here, Master Kol. Been here ever since. Haven’t seen Master Sy. Haven’t heard anyone say a word about him. Do you know where he is?’ Truth had its limits.

‘If I did, do you think I’d be asking you?’ snapped the justicar. Another glare at Tasahre. ‘Would you please go outside, girl. I’m not going to knife him.’

Tasahre didn’t move. ‘No.’

The justicar’s knuckles were clenched white. ‘Berren, you listen to me and you listen good. Syannis has been a friend to me and me to him for the best part of ten years, but he’s on his way to a burial in stone right now. I have a shrewd idea who those men were at the House of Records and if the blood is anything to go by, I’d say your master killed the lot of them. I know exactly whose headless body I have on my hands and I’ll eat my own sword if it wasn’t your master who killed him too. Either would mean the mines for him at the very least, and quite possibly you too unless you help me. You see, what I think is that Syannis stole something or found something. Papers that are very important and might well have something to do with this lot.’ He jerked a thumb at Tasahre. ‘I want to know where he is, I want to know where those papers are, I want to know what’s on them and I want to know where he got them. If you think you know anything about any of those things, you tell me . You don’t tell some priest, you don’t tell Master Mardan or Master Fennis or some ignorant novice who happens to be your friend for the day. And particularly, you don’t tell her .’ He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. ‘This is much more than one thief-taker and his revenge for something that happened half a lifetime ago, and Syannis needs to get that into his thick skull before someone cracks it open with an axe. Did he give you anything, perhaps? Something for safekeeping? If he did, you find me and you tell me. No one else. They can’t stop you from leaving.’

‘He didn’t give me anything, Master Kol, I swear it.’

‘Right.’ Kol stood up. He sniffed. ‘Waste of time, aren’t you, boy? Knew that from the first day I saw you.’

Berren bristled. Kol shrugged.

‘Prove me wrong. So you don’t know where your master is? Where might he go, boy?’

Berren’s turn to shrug.

‘Yeh. Waste of time. I don’t believe you don’t know anything. You come and you tell me. Else you’re on your own, you and Syannis both. I wash my hands of you.’ Kol stalked to the door.

‘Master Kol!’

‘Yes, boy?’

‘Did you ever find out who bought Master Velgian?’

For a moment, Kol glared murder at Tasahre. ‘No.’

He slammed the door behind him. Berren was left shaking. Then Tasahre had her hand on his shoulder again. Her touch was soothing, too soothing, as though she was doing some sort of priest magic on him to calm him down and he didn’t want anyone doing anything . He shook her off.

‘You should tell him, Berren, if you know the answers to his questions,’ she said.

‘But I don’t!’ Berren stamped his foot. He could almost scream with the frustration of it. ‘I wouldn’t tell him even if I did know, but I don’t know where Master Sy is! I don’t! I wish I did!’ He looked at her, and there was that urge to let it all out again. He couldn’t, though, he couldn’t tell her about what he’d seen at the Two Cranes. No one could know about that. He took a deep breath. Somehow, hiding things from Tasahre was a lot worse than lying to the justicar. If anything, Kol had made it easy. ‘I did see some of what happened in the House of Records though. It was like I said, I was keeping watch and everything, but I didn’t run away. I saw them fighting. Couldn’t watch Master Sy get killed and there were four of them, even if he’d stabbed one already. I was so scared.’ No harm in telling her that much, as long as it was all true. Sword-monks had a sixth sense for lies. She probably already knew he’d lied to Kol about not seeing Master Sy afterwards. But she hadn’t said anything. Why?

The day was a mess after that. There were no lessons, not from the monks, not from Sterm, not for anyone. Berren milled aimlessly with the other novices, watching the city soldiers do much the same, being herded away and out of sight by the priests, then slowly milling back to stare at the soldiers again. None of them had the first idea what was happening or why.

He fingered the token around his neck. He had a purse with a handful of silver crowns and a pocket full of pennies, enough to buy him passage up the river. One gold emperor for emergencies. He had a sword now too, hidden in its bundle up on Wrecking Point. For a while, he wondered if he should run. Maybe go to one of the taverns where the lightermen who plied the river went to have their fun, buy a few drinks and find someone who would take him up the river, quietly, no questions asked, and leave what happened after in the hands of the stars. Maybe he’d get to Varr and just freeze and die when winter set in and the snow fell thick and heavy enough to crush whole houses flat. Or maybe he’d find his fortune. There’d be no Master Sy, no Justicar Kol, no Headsman and his ilk, no Tasahre. Just him.

But if he ran, he’d be running away. By the middle of the morning, he knew that as surely as he knew the sun would rise, and he knew that what he ought to do was find Master Sy and find him first, before Kol. He needed to understand what was happening and warn his master that the whole world was looking for him, if he didn’t already know. That was his place — at his master’s side. He tried to think where the thief-taker would go. Not to the justicar, nor any of the other thief-takers, that much was obvious. Teacher Garrient at the moon temple? But Kol would surely have been there already and Master Sy wasn’t that stupid. Kasmin was dead, so what friends did the thief-taker have left? None?

No. There was the House of Cats and Gulls.

He shivered. There had to be somewhere else, but if there was, he couldn’t think of it, and the more he thought, the more he saw Velgian hanging from the edge of a rooftop. You’ve got to tell Syannis one thing for me. You tell him that Saffran Kuy is not the friend he thinks . Only he hadn’t said why. Maybe it mattered. Maybe it had something to do with this. Or maybe it didn’t.

He slipped out of the temple. It was easy; if anyone even noticed him, no one stopped him. Find your fear and face it. Fear is the killer of thought . Easy words to say, not so easy when you had to go and do it. He tried to think where else he could look as he hurried down to the river docks and vanished into the market crowds there; and he was still trying to think where else he might go when he was standing at the door to the House of Cats and Gulls at the end of the docks where the crowds thinned to nothing. The air was ripe. Dozens of green and amber eyes peered out from nearby alleys and all the dark corners. A scattering of fish parts littered the ground.