Алексей Пехов - Shadow Chaser

“I hope Honeycomb’s going to be all right,” Hallas muttered.

“Everyone hopes so, Beard-Face,” Deler replied, and took a sip from his flask. “Want some?”

“All right,” the gnome replied after a moment’s thought. “Since there’s nothing else, dwarf swill will have to do.”

Fer sent two horsemen on ahead to Cuckoo to warn the magician, the healers, and the garrison. Everyone held their weapons at the ready, in case any of the orcs we hadn’t killed were lying in ambush in the forest.

“Torch!” a soldier with his left arm bandaged shouted to his sergeant. “Servin’s dead!”

“May he dwell in the light,” whispered one of the soldiers.

“Harold!” said Eel, holding out Invincible to me. “You keep him, the little beast is used to you.”

I took the shaggy little rat that had just lost his master and tucked him inside my jacket. Ling sniffled as he settled down and then fell quiet. We could decide what to do with him later.

A horn sounded—it was the messengers sent on ahead by Fer coming back. A detachment of eighty horsemen came with them.

Their commander, an elderly warrior with a wispy beard, asked, “Is there anyone left alive in the village?”

“Not as far as I know. But the villagers who were killed need to be buried.”

“We’ll deal with that. I’ll leave twenty horsemen to accompany you. It’s no more than four leagues to the castle, you’re expected.”

“Thank you,” said Fer, with a curt nod.

Cuckoo—a reddish gray hulk with three towers, double walls, and six earthen ramparts—was seething like a disturbed anthill. It was hard to believe that only an hour’s ride from here the orcs had wiped out a village, and the soldiers had known nothing about it.

“Healers!” Fer barked as soon as we were in the castle courtyard.

Men came running up to the wagon, some of them brought stretchers, and first aid was given to the wounded on the spot, leaving the men who had been hurt by the orc’s magic to Miralissa’s care.

A tall man with a bald head walked up to the elfess, who was still whispering spells. He was dressed in the black chain mail of a simple soldier. There was a sword hanging on his belt and he was holding the staff of a magician of the Order.

The magicians in the Border Kingdom weren’t all that different from ordinary soldiers. They were as skilled in handling a sword as in magic. Nothing like our Valiostrian idlers.

“A ‘soap bubble,’ milady?” he asked, putting his hand on Honeycomb’s forehead, which was covered in sweat.

“Yes, it’s the Khra-z ten’r,” she replied with a nod. “To whom do I have the honor of speaking?”

“Wolner Gray, magician of the Order of the Border Kingdom, at your service…”

“Miralissa of the House of the Black Moon. Can you help me?”

“Yes, Tresh Miralissa. Hey, lads!” the magician called to the soldiers. “Get stretchers and carry the stricken into the hospital hall.”

The magician and the elfess walked away. The soldiers carried the wounded after them.

“Young lad!” said Deler, grabbing hold of a stable boy by the sleeve. “Do you have a shrine to Sagra here?”

“Yes, master dwarf, over there.”

“What’s this, Deler? Turned devout all of a sudden?”

“Don’t be a fool, Beard-Face. I’m going to pray for Honeycomb’s health.”

Hallas scratched his beard and shouted: “Hang on, Hat-Head, I’ll go with you, or you’ll only get lost.”

“But I’m not going anywhere,” said Lamplighter, who was feverish from his wound. “Eel, help me stagger over to the healers, I’m feeling a bit shaky.”

Mumr leaned on his bidenhander and got to his feet. Without speaking a word, the Garrakian offered him his shoulder and led him toward the healers bustling around the wagons. Kli-Kli and I were left on our own.

“Come on, Dancer, I’ll show you something,” the jester called out to me.

“Where are we going?” I asked him suspiciously.

“Come on, you won’t regret it.”

There was nothing to do, evening was drawing in, and I didn’t think we would be going to Zagraba today, so I followed the goblin. Kli-Kli walked over to a hoist beside the wall.

“Where are you going, greeny?” asked the man who was loading stones for a catapult into the hoist.

“Would you be so kind, my dear man, as to raise the two of us up onto the wall together with these most remarkable stones that match the color of your face so well?” Kli-Kli asked.

“What?” the worker asked, wide-eyed.

“Can you hoist us up, blockhead?”

“The steps are over there!” said the man, jabbing a dirty finger toward the wall. “Use your legs, I’ve got work to do, I’ve no time to be giving you a lift as well.”

Kli-Kli stuck his tongue out at him and stomped off angrily to the steps that led up onto the top of the wall.

“Kli-Kli, can you tell me why I should climb twenty yards up a wall?” I asked the goblin.

“It would spoil the surprise. Have you ever regretted listening to what I say?” The goblin was already climbing briskly up the steps.

“Yes,” I replied quite sincerely.

I followed him anyway. It was an easy climb, because the steps wound round the wall. The palace courtyard sank lower and lower below us, and the men, the horses, and the wagons all shrank.

“Tell me this,” I asked Kli-Kli as he ambled along in front of me. “Where did you learn to handle throwing knives so neatly?”

“Why, did you like it?” asked Kli-Kli, glowing at this unexpected praise. “I have just as many hidden talents as you do, Dancer.”

“You don’t say?”

“I’m a jester,” he said, and shrugged. “Throwing knives is no harder than juggling four torches or doing a triple reverse somersault.”

“You’ve got a tough job, old friend,” I laughed.

He stopped, looked down at me, and said in a serious voice, “You can’t even imagine how tough it is, Harold. Especially when I have to look after fools like you!”

“So you’re the one who’s looking after me!”

“There, that’s human gratitude for you,” said the goblin, raising his hands imploringly to the sky. “Wasn’t I the one who saved you from that dog’s teeth?”

“Well, yes,” I had to agree.

“And today? Today, whose knives stopped the orc’s ax?” the goblin went on as he completed another turn of the stairway.

“Yours,” I sighed.

“Oh!” said the goblin, raising one finger didactically without turning to face me. “That’s exactly the point. Are you thieves all like that?”

“Like what?”

“With such a short memory for the good things that other people do for you.”

“All right, calm down, Kli-Kli. I remember that I owe you for one time.”

“What do you mean, for one time!”

“You saved me from the dog, and I saved you from the river, so I still owe you one rescue,” I chuckled.

“Maybe I know how to swim, and I was only pretending?” Kli-Kli suggested, narrowing his eyes cunningly.

“Well, then you really are a fool.”

“All right, I admit it, I can’t swim. And by the way, we’re here.”

I hadn’t realized that I was on the wall. It was broad, with immense battlements, loopholes, and blue sky. The walls gave no protection from the wind up here, and it blew straight into my back. I could imagine what it was like being up here in winter or during a storm. Invincible crept out from under my jacket and clambered onto my shoulder.

“So what was it you wanted to show me?” I couldn’t spot anything interesting up there, just a catapult, a few bowmen standing watch, and one craftsman, reinforcing the stones of the wall.

“Look over that way!” said Kli-Kli, dragging me across to a loophole and almost pushing me off the wall in his enthusiasm. “Over here!”