The Lost Puzzler Page 21

  The four turned out to be packing quite a treasure trove of weapons, scanning devices, fully charged power tubes, and bags full of coins. One of them was obviously dead. The other three were probably alive, though they didn’t look much better than the dead one. With odds of five to two and only a moment’s warning, Galinak and Vincha came out victorious. For some strange reason I felt really proud. These two warriors were old-school, true Salvationists. I noted to myself that I had to keep them on my side.

  “These guys look like a crew or something,” Galinak said. “Rusting amateurs, is what they are. If the Troll had shot me first we would have been all wires and spare parts by now.” He turned to Vincha, his hand still rummaging through one of their pockets. “You pissed someone off, Vincha, someone with coin.”

  “Could be anyone, really.” Vincha shrugged. “I’ve been pissing off more than a few people, and if this fleshling—no offence, Twinkle Eyes—managed to find me, I’m sure others could, too.”

  “Maybe they’re a rogue crew who got a lead on us?”

  “They’re not rogues. They’re employed by a guild, or the Council,” I said with enough confidence to get their attention.

  “Rust, are you sure? How do you know?”

  “A talent. I never forget a face, and I’ve seen this one before.” I pointed at the dead man. “He’s Sabarra, I’ll bet hard coin on it.”

  Galinak whistled in appreciation, turning to Vincha. “Bukra’s balls, what did you do to cross wires with the most powerful guild in the city? They practically run this city now.”

  Vincha tried but failed to look nonchalant. “Nothing that I know of,” she answered. “I thought they came because of you, Galinak. How much debt are you in?”

  Galinak snorted and spat at one of the unconscious figures. “Yeah, well . . . Let’s wake one of them up and find out who they were looking for, shall we? I have this new thumb twist I’m dying to try . . .”

  “They were coming for me,” I said, nipping the argument in the bud. The look on my face made it clear that I wasn’t bluffing.

  “Well, well.” Vincha sent me a look of reappraisal. “But you’re just a harmless historian, aren’t you, Twinkle Eyes? How does someone like you attract the attention of the Sabarra? Unpaid library fines?”

  I shook my head. The knowledge that I had been compromised left me uncharacteristically mute.

  “Do you know why these men are after you?” Galinak asked.

  “Would you like us to find out?” Vincha added, and remembering her interrogation technique in the Den, I could not help but shiver. I shook my head. I was pretty sure why they were after me and had no desire to confront them about it in front of Vincha.

  “Have it your way.” She shrugged, pulled her hunting knife from its sheath, and bent over.

  “What are you doing?” I cried out.

  “Oh, I thought I’d give them a shave,” she said, pulling on the scalp of one of the men and putting the blade to his throat. “You won’t have to worry about them chasing you again.”

  “No. Stop,” I ordered and was actually surprised when she obeyed. “They wanted to talk to me, not to kill me.”

  “Maybe true, but I assure you if we wake them up they will try to kill us all,” said Galinak. “Might have used a stunner on you, buddy, but they were using real rusting weapons on us. I say we give them what they deserve and get it over with.”

  “No,” I said again, more forcefully. The Sabarra were after me for business, and I didn’t want to add revenge to their motivation.

  “They’re going to hunt us all down when they wake up,” Vincha said hotly. “These guys always do.”

  “Although I can make sure they will only be able to crawl,” Galinak suggested. He bent over and grabbed the leg of one of the unconscious guild fighters. “If you crack their knee at the right angle . . .”

  I shook my head until they gave up. Vincha shouldered her bag and moved out quickly. I caught up with her at the rope bridge. “Where are you going?”

  “Somewhere far away from you,” she said. “You’re trouble, Twinkle Eyes, and I have enough of my own.”

  “Wait.” My hand stopped her shoulder. She only turned to me, although I was sure she was contemplating throwing me off the bridge. “I will pay you to continue telling your story,” I said urgently. “I need to know what you know.”

  “Need?” she repeated with disgust. “What’s your story, Twinkle Eyes? Don’t rust my metal about history and all that crap. History doesn’t bring a Sabarra interrogation crew to my doorstep.”

  “I promise I’ll tell you my story, too,” I said, knowing I would have to sooner or later. Sensing Galinak was now on the bridge as well, I said without turning, “Galinak, you are officially hired to protect us . . . well, me.”

  “You can sweet talk the old fool to escort you, Twinkle Eyes,” Vincha said, “but if you want me to stick around, you better put some hard coin in my hand.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t carry that kind of coin on me.” Before Vincha could react, I hastily added, “Would you? But we can go somewhere, where I can fetch some . . .”

  Vincha looked as if she was about to argue, but Galinak suddenly barked, “This rope bridge isn’t getting any more stable—how about we let the boss bring us the coin and then we see, eh?”

  “Fine,” Vincha turned, “but you better not double cross me, Twinkle Eyes.” I let her warning hang unanswered as we crossed the bridge and moved on. This time I led the way. And to be honest, I liked the way Galinak called me “boss.”

  32

  In retrospect, it was probably foolish of me to conceive a plan in which our emergency meeting spot was a tavern called the Blade. I was still feeling slightly ill from the eel, and the Blade was on the city’s smallest cluster of spires, a mile or so west of the Central Plateau. We needed to find a way up, and now I knew for sure that someone was looking for me, and not just anyone. The Sabarra guild was known to be run with a firm hand. If one of their crews was after me it meant that the head of the guild, the man who won the goriest of the guild wars, now presided over the Council and was taking a personal interest in me.

  I decided to walk through the Pit and hire a cart to bring us up through Cart’s Way. My less brilliant idea was to send Galinak on his own first. He almost got into two fights before failing to fulfil my simple request: that he hail us one rusting donkey cart and do it without attracting too much attention. He even began haggling loudly over the price and was still doing so when Vincha and I finally joined him. The cart driver was in a foul mood and would have simply driven away if not for the fact that Galinak was holding the donkey firmly in place. At least when the weather turned sour I had a good reason to hide my face in my cowl.

  Whether it was out of frustration or fear, Galinak managed to lower the price to a more agreeable sum, but upon seeing the extra passengers the driver declared that the agreed sum was per person, effectively tripling his rate. I was in no mood to haggle, so I agreed to the outrageous price. I didn’t envy the poor donkey that had to pull us the entire way up to the middle spire in the rain.

  When we arrived at the Blade, I found one of those orphan boys who looked eager enough for work and sent a coded message to my contact, River. Then we had nothing to do but sit down and shame Vincha into buying us a drink, since I was completely out of hard coin. After a while she softened up and ordered some food as well, and we retreated to a side room, sitting in silence and sipping our drinks while listening to a troupe of local bards play some old tunes in the main room. At some point Galinak asked Vincha if she’d like to dance. He was not rewarded with a response. As I sat back and tried to relax, my body decided to remind me that I hadn’t slept the night before, and that I’d survived several violent, not to mention emotionally draining, encounters. In short, I dozed off and was not aware that Vincha felt us being scanned again. The door to the room opened, and by the time I realised what was going on, the other two were already up and struggling with a thir
d person—River, my contact. He was not a Troll or even a warrior—but he was no pushover, either.

  I got everyone to calm down and made sure they were properly introduced to one another. No one apologised—except me, several times, to everyone—but at least I felt some sense of grudging respect from the two warriors towards my contact. After all, it had taken me a few heartbeats to gain control of the situation, and he was still conscious and breathing when I stopped the fight.

  River was a middle-aged man who in his prime and with the right gear could have been a Troll, or even a crew leader like Galinak. But River’s love and talent for all things Tarakan had made him into a Tinker, an inventor, and an avid collector of Tarakan technologies. It was true irony that no guild would hire him for expeditions because he was unmarked by tattoos. I knew he was bitter about his fate and would have given anything to explore Tarakan Valley and the City within the Mountain.

  His loss was our gain, for River ended up working for my LoreMaster and proved to be trustworthy and competent, and so far he had never let me down. In other words, River was one of the good guys. So when he took me aside discreetly and gave me a fifth of the funds I’d asked for, I didn’t assume right away that he was stealing from me.

  He shook his head. “Sorry, coffers are empty. You guys been spending it like the second Catastrophe’s coming.”

  I asked him to stay and walked back to the room, thinking, as it were, on my feet.

  I took the coin pouch, moved a quarter of the funds to my own pocket, and tossed the pouch to Galinak, who hefted it expertly in his hand and smiled.

  “Two months’ escort,” I told him. “You go where I go, you watch my back.”

  Galinak made a show of thinking about it, then shrugged and smiled his acceptance.

  I sat down and looked at Vincha, who returned my gaze with a calculating stare. She was going to be disappointed, and what I was about to do was far from chivalrous, but I was not going to let her get away, not after all I’d been through.

  “You’re going to tell me the rest of the story,” I told her. “That was the last of my coin, and I already paid you enough.”

  When she realised I was serious, she got up, picking up her gear in one swoop, and said, “You just wasted my day, Twinkle Eyes. Good-bye.”

  I am not proud of what I did next.

  “Not so fast.” My tone of voice made her turn her head to me just as she was at the door. “I don’t know what you did to Fuazz,” I said slowly and deliberately, “but he is seriously pissed off. I know so, because he told me in his own words what he would do to you when he finds you.”

  She froze in her tracks, her hand on the door’s handle.

  I heard Galinak swear softly to himself.

  “And Grapplers have notoriously long memories,” I continued, carefully assessing the distance between us. “I believe they’re looking for you as well. You step out of this room and I will give them the exact location of your daughter.”

  It was a gambit. I didn’t know how Galinak would react to my threat, even though I had just officially hired him to protect me. You had to be blind not to see that he was fond of Vincha, so the gamble I took with my life was that when Vincha tried to kill me, Galinak’s twisted code of professionalism would overcome any personal feelings he might have for the woman.

  My words caught Vincha when she was already at the door, but she still managed to hit me twice before River and Galinak dragged her off me. She struggled like a wounded lioness, but thankfully Galinak had made his decision in my favour. With some effort, Vincha’s arms were pinned to her back and her head was shoved to the table, held down by the angle of her twisted arm and Galinak’s raised knee pressing on the back of her neck with his full weight behind it. This painful submission hold took the wind out of her, but still she struggled until River slapped something round and metallic on her back, which made her legs crumple. A grim-looking Galinak eased off and lifted her into a chair while maintaining a controlled choke hold.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she breathed in fury above his arm. “I didn’t tell you the truth. I did find Jakov and when I found him, I killed him, slowly. And if you harm my family I will tear you apart. I will find you and cut your eyes out, and then your balls, and then . . .”

  I didn’t know if she was telling the truth about killing Jakov, I certainly hadn’t heard a solid lead that he was still alive, but I knew she was angry enough to threaten me with slow death, even when pinned down and theoretically at my mercy. I realised, too late, that I’d made a mistake.

  “Enough,” I said. “Galinak, let her go.” I knew I was skating on thin ice with him and I didn’t want to push it. “River, take your damn Gadgets out of her system.”

  I turned to her. “Now you listen to me, Vincha. I never wanted it to be like this. I paid you for the story and didn’t threaten you before, but you milked me dry. I have no more coin, and I need you to tell me this story. Time is running out. I can’t mess around anymore.” I was angry, hurting, tired, desperate, and broke. No more Mister Nice Guy—he was good only for sitting in libraries and reading history books and Salvo-novels. Here and now, I needed results.

  I was not giving her much of a choice, but under the circumstances, she was still getting a good deal of coin out of me.

  She didn’t rise from her chair, but I could see she was considering her options, rubbing her wrists and shooting Galinak looks, which didn’t give me hope for future reconciliation.

  “So, I tell you the full story and then I’m free to go?” she asked, carefully enunciating every word while looking me in the eye.

  I held her stare, knowing that this woman was at the end of her tether, and were she given the opportunity, I wouldn’t blame her for attempting to cut my throat.

  “Yes,” I lied. “You can go when you’re done with your tale. I have no wish to cause you or your family harm.”

  “You will forget where my family is?”

  “I promise you, though I am sure you will move your daughter somewhere else by then anyway.” And I will find her again if I need to.

  “You might betray me before I manage to do it.”

  I shrugged “Why should I do that? As you know, my contract with Galinak is over in several weeks, and I am metal dry. You could easily track me down if I betrayed you.”

  “I might just do that,” she said slowly and shot a glare at Galinak. “I might not wait several weeks to do it.”

  Galinak spread his arms wide and winked. “I guess we’ll end up dancing after all.”

  “You filthy old rusting f—”

  “Shut up, both of you,” I snapped angrily. “I suggest that you both find an appropriate time in the future to get this sexual frustration out of the way, but right now I want to hear what happened to Rafik after he was bought by the Keenan guild, and then I want you to take us there.”

  33

  “Welcome to your new home, Rafik,” Mistress Furukawa said, as the guards closed the large gates behind them. They were standing in a very large courtyard, in front of the entrance to the main house. It was almost impossible for Rafik to imagine that they were all standing on a huge disc so high above the ground that the people below them looked like ants. The dais was covered in trees, and the gentle breeze touched his face. He later learned that the freezing wind that should have been blowing at this height was somehow blocked by the mysterious Tarakan technology.

  “This building and all you see around it is the property of the Keenan guild,” Mistress Furukawa said, gesturing with one hand while nudging him forward with the other.

  Just like me, thought Rafik, looking around nervously. He had not yet come to terms with the fact that Jakov was no longer controlling his life. In fact, Rafik was still half-expecting the merchant to show up again. The idea made him shiver, and he pushed that thought away by looking around.

  Rafik had to admit the place was impressive, and Mistress Furukawa, perhaps sensing the boy’s awe, described the premises as they walke
d through it. The whole compound was built in the style of an ancient fort, with six towers, three buildings—the main one being four stories high—several courtyards, and even a large garden and an extensive underground level.

  Mistress Furukawa nudged him gently when he slowed down to take it all in. “Come, it’s almost time for dinner. Time to meet your new family.”

  They walked through several halls and crossed an inner courtyard filled with human-sized dummies made of wood and straw. Mistress Furukawa explained this was the practice area for combat training. Once they reached a side door they slipped into a maze of short corridors that led them to the main dining hall. Never in his life had Rafik been inside a building so large and imposing.

  The corridors were richly furnished, lined with tapestries depicting ancient battles and several statues of sword-wielding warriors. Their footsteps were muffled by the bloodred carpeting. As they came closer to the hall Rafik heard a booming voice, but the words were distorted, swallowed up by the heavy curtains that surrounded them. When they stepped into the dining hall, in the shadow of the large columns that supported the room’s high ceiling, the words took shape and meaning.

  A man was standing on a low dais and lecturing several dozen youth who sat at three very long tables laden with food. Rafik could see only the man’s back; his body was shrouded in a grey cloak. The man’s voice was deep and powerful. The youth seemed completely entranced by his words, because no one moved or braved a whisper. Sitting at a smaller table closer to Rafik were several men and women who were also listening attentively. The scene reminded Rafik of the scripture lessons in his home village, though the listeners were not sitting on the floor, the food on the table was clearly of higher quality, and it soon became obvious that the man was not speaking of the holy scripts.