Алексей Пехов - Shadow Chaser

Marmot was stuffing Invincible with yet another portion of grub—it looked as if the warrior was trying to fatten the little beast up. Arnkh, Uncle, and Egrassa had started playing dice to pass the time, and the elf had already won six games.

Kli-Kli was whispering to the elfin princess with a perfectly serious expression on his face. When I tried to go over to them, he gave me a rather unwelcoming glance, so I left them in peace. So did the goblin and the elfess have secrets of their own now?

Lamplighter was playing a quiet, sad melody on his reed pipe, and I was the only one left with nothing to keep me busy, so I decided to do something useful. I took the maps of Hrad Spein out of my bag and studied them until Ell walked in.

Miralissa raised one eyebrow inquiringly, but he only shook his head.

“I didn’t find it.”

“No trace of the men?” asked Alistan, looking up from his sword.

“On the contrary. I followed the men who stole the Key right across the city and found them, but they were already dead.”

“How’s that?”

“Absolutely dead, all of them. Stuck full of arrows. If those men were carrying the artifact, someone took it from them. Six bodies in a dark alley. No Key, no Honeycomb, and absolutely no tracks. As if someone had swept them away with a broom. I looked, but it was useless.…”

The men who attacked us had fallen into an ambush themselves? So who had finished them off—their own side? Or had a third party joined in? But if so, who?

“I hope nothing bad has happened to Honeycomb and he has better luck than our Ell,” Uncle muttered querulously.

“Mumr, Marmot,” Milord Rat said in a quiet voice, “relieve Hallas and Deler.”

Lamplighter put down his reed pipe and went to carry out Alistan’s order.

The gnome and the dwarf burst into the inn, occupied the bar, and set about annihilating the strategic supplies of beer while they recalled their friend Loudmouth, may he dwell in the light, with a few kind words.

Everyone else went back to their own pastimes, casting occasional worried glances at the door.

I went back to studying my papers. But the cursed labyrinths of the Palaces of Bone absolutely refused to stay fixed in my memory, and I barely managed to make myself remember the route through the first level to the steps that led to the second. Eventually, when it was already after midnight and our patience was all but exhausted, Honeycomb showed up. Without saying a word he took a mug full of dark heavy beer out of Deler’s hand and drained it in a single swallow.

“I found them,” the young giant laughed, wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. “They’re in a house in the southern district of Ranneng.”

“The southern district?” Miralissa said with a frown. “There’s nothing there but the mansions of the higher nobility!”

“That’s right … Hallas, another beer.”

Honeycomb handed his mug to the gnome, who filled it without a murmur.

“Did you find out anything about Loudmouth?”

“Not a thing. He disappeared into thin air,” said Honeycomb, taking another swig of his beer.

“So what happened? Ell wasn’t able to find you.”

“No?” said Honeycomb, glancing at the elf.

“I found nothing but bodies.…”

“Ah yes! When I left the inn, I was about ten minutes behind our killers. And there were guards dashing around all over the Upper City, so I had to keep my head down. Anyway, I was a bit late reaching the scene of the fight. When I got there, there was nothing but dead bodies and a dozen lads with bows walking out of the dark alley. I had to make the best of it, so I followed them.”

“Did they say anything?”

“No…,” Honeycomb said after thinking for a moment. “But later, when the killers met another man, he said that now the Master might be pleased with them.”

“The Master?” Miralissa asked in alarm, casting a warning glance in my direction.

“That’s what they said.” Honeycomb shrugged and took a swig from his mug. “I had to follow them for quite a long time, and then hang about for even longer in a little hidey-hole while they waited for the man. They gave him the item that was stolen from you, Tresh Miralissa, took their money, sang the praises of the Master, and went on their way.”

“And what about the man?”

“He went off in the opposite direction, so I had to choose who to follow. I decided the stolen item was more important and followed the man. A cunning pest, I tell you; I almost lost him.”

“Did he notice you?” Miralissa asked anxiously.

“Oh no … He couldn’t have.”

“Why didn’t you finish him off, if he had the Key?” the gnome asked in a disappointed voice.

“There were four others with him. Bodyguards. And he looked like a dangerous enough specimen himself. I even thought he might be a shaman—his skin was so pale.”

“Did you say pale?” I exclaimed.

“White. As white as chalk.”

Could this be my old acquaintance Rolio? If so, then it really was him I’d seen at the Large Market. The Nameless One’s followers had done the job for Paleface, and the Master’s servants had simply lain in waiting for their prey in the dark alley, shot the thieves with their bows, and taken the Key. Tonight the hired killer had done what the Master’s shaman had failed to do fifteen hundred years earlier in the Mountains of the Dwarves, and now the Master would at long last hold in his hands the artifact he craved so badly.

“Carry on, Honeycomb,” Egrassa said.

“Carry on with what?” Honeycomb asked with a shrug. “I’m not Tomcat, may his soul dwell in the light, I’m about as good a tracker as Hallas is a jeweler, but I managed to stick with the lad to the end. He’s in a huge mansion in the southern district of the city. And that’s the whole story.”

“What kind of house is it? Where exactly is it located?”

“The darkness only knows where it’s located. I’ve never been in this city before. I only just managed to find my way back here. But I can recognize it. It’s not a house, it’s a palace, and it has fancy gates, with some kind of birds on them.”

“That’s great! Now we’ll break those birds’ little wings!” said Hallas. He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and reached for his battle-mattock.

“Where do you think you’re going in such a great hurry?” Uncle asked, watching the gnome curiously.

“What do you mean? We have to get that Key back from them.”

“With one incomplete platoon? Without knowing who we’re going up against? Without knowing how many guards there are? Get a grip, Hallas! That smack you got in the teeth must have been too hard,” the dwarf quipped.

“Sit down, Hallas,” Alistan said quietly, and the gnome, who had been on the point of starting a brawl with Deler, went back to his seat, shamefaced. “We need to find out who we’re dealing with before we get into a fight.”

“Who we’re dealing with? I think I can probably answer that question for you, Milord Alistan,” I blurted out without thinking, and then bit my tongue, but it was already too late.

“Have you become a visionary, thief?” Count Markauz asked me.

“Oh no, Your Grace. It’s all much simpler than that. The man who took the Key from the Nameless One’s men who attacked us is my old friend Paleface. And Paleface, as you recall, serves the Master. I think we can assume that whoever lives in that house is another one of the Master’s errand boys, like Rolio.”

“Well now, that is logical,” Miralissa agreed, and snapped her fingers in annoyance. “So this Master has thwarted us yet again.…”

Alistan chuckled scornfully, making it very clear that he found my reasoning unconvincing.