Paul Collins - Swords Of Quentaris

Rad's feet beat in mid-air. He reached up and grabbed the joist with his right hand. Suprisingly the thief allowed him this brief respite, and that was his undoing.

Rad swung his left hand up and caught the thief by his own collar. Rad tugged while propelling himself up.

Le'ard uttered a startled yell and lost his balance. He barely caught hold of the joist as he swung out over the room.

Rad clawed himself up and sat panting, his legs straddling the timber. Beside him, Le'ard reached up and gained a better purchase on the joist.

Then the door below swung open.

'Here!' a voice called. 'He's in here!'

Rad stood quickly. With his arms out wide to balance himself, he made it to the skylight. He barely acknowledged the fact that Le'ard had

now hooked a leg over the joist and was pulling himself up.

Rad ripped a piece from his shirt and wrapped it around his knuckles. He punched the glass three times before it shattered. Shards fell like raining knives.

'Back! Back!' someone screamed below.

Rad hoisted himself up over the lip. He was vaguely aware of how sticky his hands were as he pushed himself down the steep, saw-toothed roof. He slid faster and faster on the seat of his pants.

Le'ard appeared through the skylight then howled and fell back down below the roofline.

Rad hit the guttering with the impact of a runaway cart. The gutter gave way and shattered on the street below. Catching hold of some spouting, Rad held on as that too began to buckle with his weight. Slowly, but gaining momentum, it thundered down to the laneway.

Rad picked himself up, dazed and battered, but far from safe. Even now he could hear the sound of pursuers on the roof. He hobbled as

fast as his numb thigh and new injuries would allow, and within minutes had climbed a set of rusting fire-escape stairs. He was on his home territory again—the rooftops.

6. The Scar

RAD took a circuitous route back to the Old Tree Guesthouse. It seemed that every thief and Nibhelline had been roused to search for him.

The City Watch, apparently on full alert, were also stalking the narrow laneways, questioning anyone they came across.

Rad eased himself on to a window ledge and tapped gently on the leadlight. He was about to knock more forcibly when the window opened suddenly.

Rad's hands windmilled as the window struck him. "Tulcia! It's me!' He caught the frame and hung precariously over the laneway.

Tulcia rubbed her weary eyes. 'What are you doing out there in the middle of the night?'

'Trying to get in,' Rad seethed. 'Help me.

Please.'

Tulcia reached out and dragged him in. After taking a quick look outside, she closed the window and drew the curtains. Now fully awake, she lit an oil lamp. She turned to berate him for waking her but the words caught in her mouth.

'Rad! What's happened to your shirt? And the blood! It's all over you!'

Rad felt the room turn in lazy circles. 'All of that,' he agreed. 'And I suspect half of Quentaris is after me, too.'

Tulcia went to the washbasin and poured in some water from a pitcher. 'While you tell me everything we should look at your hand.' She

frowned crossly. 'And don't get blood all over the sheets. Arna charges for stains.'

While Tulcia washed and dressed Rad's slashed hand, he related how the Thieves' Guild had abducted him and taken him to their headquarters.

Tulcia listened intently, and although she shook her head from time to time, she kept quiet until Rad had finished his tale.

'Right,' she said. 'We're not sure what game Vinny's playing, but you say he somehow found out that Gangi had the map. You think he probably arrived at the fence's place with several heavies, only Gangi was one step ahead of him and tried escaping through the ceiling. But Gangi was too old for such work, and fell and broke his scrawny neck. When Vinny couldn't find the map, he left, or maybe fled when the Thieves'

Guild turned up. Either way, it looks like he set you up by letting it be known where you were holed up.'

Rad stopped kneading his injured thigh. 'But that doesn't make sense. If he knew where I was, why didn't he and his men get me themselves?'

'Maybe the lesser of two evils,' Tulcia surmised.

'Stanas may be old, but he's a water magician. No-one in their right mind would willingly cross him. He can dry out anyone's well — cause droughts and ruin crops. No, easier to let the Thieves' Guild kidnap you, then waylay them.

Only something went wrong.'

Rad clicked his fingers. 'The master thief had sent his men to fetch Vindon. Maybe he himself was waylaid, and had to call in reinforcements.'

Tulcia pouted in thought. It doesn't matter.

Suffice to say you now have some powerful enemies.'

She pulled the curtains aside and peeped out at the pencil-fine light on the horizon. 'Well, I'll not be getting back to sleep now. And you won't either.' She sighed heavily. 'Now's as good a time as any to get going.' She turned to face the sorry-looking Rad. 'Are you up to it?'

"What about provisions? Horses? Weapons?'

Tulcia shook her head. 'What do you think I've been doing these past two days?' She reached under her bed and fetched out two

leather bags. 'I'm ready when you are. No way will the Thieves' Guild expect you to return to the

stables. And if they do, they had better look out.'

Rad smiled weakly. He had no doubt that whoever tackled Tulcia right now would come off second best.

The rift caves. The cliffs were full of them. Some of them were tiny apertures in the granite through which doorways to other worlds opened and shut as they pleased. Others were large enough for the pirates to launch their airborne ships from.

Some adventurers returned wealthy beyond compare, while others returned mad. Some simply didn't return; others opened the way for hordes of rampaging creatures. These were met by the army at the Last and First Station.

The regulars were supplemented by the City Watch. This was a voluntary militia whose ranks mostly comprised those just turned eighteen win-ters. Many saw this stint as an excellent start in life, for their coffers were fuelled by funds deposited by swordsmen and other adventurers who sought admission to the rift caves. It was also known that soldiers who saved wealthy adven-

turers from the caves were recompensed hand-somely, but perhaps these were only myths. It was not uncommon for nobility to come to Quentaris in search of excitement.

Tulcia stood back from her horse, Aspen Gold, and counted off her supplies. '... rope, grappling hooks, flint, candles, food, skin bags, dagger, Whispering Amber — my longsword,' she added for Rad's information, 'amulet of Rys,' she said, fingering the good-luck charm hanging around her neck, 'and of course the map.'

'You've done well,' Rad said. Although I'm not sure about naming your sword.'

'More fool you,' Tulcia said, mounting up. 'It is said in the legends of Crull the Conqueror that giving your sword a birthright forms a bond between mortal and steel.' She snorted when Rad buckled a sword to his hip. 'Even if it is a bor-rowed sword.'

'Those tales are so much codswallop,' Rad said, unperturbed. He gingerly straddled the steed Tulcia had lent him — a pedigree with blue-blooded lineage, according to his new friend.

'Night-time stories to send children to sleep.

Everyone knows that unless a magician channels magic through steel, a sword is a sword is a sword.'

Tulcia smiled cryptically. Her hand rested on the pommel of Whispering Amber. 'As it so happens,' she said, digging stirrup into flank,

"Whispering Amber was my poor deceased father's. He was once a rift cave guide — back in the days before the pompous guides got more people killed than they saved.'