City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [86]
‘Maybe it would do me good to get on the road again. What has my life here consisted of but sauntering around drunk and alone amid clouds of dust motes?’
Eir entered the room again and said, ‘She’s now busy meditating.’
Munio blurted out, ‘Young Eir! This one here has been telling me all about the pair of you.’
‘What kind of things?’ She eyed Randur with suspicion, as he shuffled over to her side.
‘Nothing bad.’
As the old man drew a sword, she turned sharply.
‘Lad says you’ve been keen to learn the ways of Vitassi,’ Munio said. ‘Shall we now see if he was as lazy a teacher as he was once a student.’
‘Rand, would you like to fetch my sword?’ she said coldly.
‘What, am I your servant now?’ He stomped off but returned moments later with the same thin blade she had used to cut her way out of Villjamur.
She grabbed it and turned to face Munio, who said, ‘Let’s have a look at you.’
His blade darted aggressively towards her torso, and for the next few minutes her sword was slapped around the kitchen by a master of the technique. Every time she made a strike, he seemed to predict what she was intending. He barked out corrective instructions, but when he eventually started singing, she lost her poise completely, slipping over, her sword clattering at Randur’s feet. He handed it back to her with a grin, knowing that if he said anything, he’d earn one of those glares she did so well.
‘And that’, Munio declared, ‘is why you should not be distracted by anything I say while I’m advancing. You must hear only your sword-stroke. You listen to me when we finish.’
‘The enemy aren’t exactly going to be advising me in combat, are they?’ Eir muttered breathlessly.
‘That depends’, Munio replied, ‘on whether you know exactly who your enemy is. Well the three of you obviously need my assistance, and I admit that it feels rather good to be non-sedentary again. So I will agree to join you. Anyway, there is not a hope in hell you’ll scramble your way north through all those forests without someone like me to guide you.’
Randur leapt across and slapped Munio on the back. ‘Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.’
‘Indeed,’ Munio said primly. ‘But I have some business in town this afternoon, so we may leave tomorrow morning.’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Individual from the Bloods – claimed he was their leader. Decision to be made on bolstering troop numbers. Said something about your preferences in men? Possibly staffing arrangements. Details of locations overleaf.’
Brynd had received the message earlier that day, telling him to meet the gang leader, Malum, outside the Victory Hole tavern at sunset. For a long time afterwards he held the piece of paper in his hands, staring into the distance.
At the specified time, he was loitering in the freezing cold by the quayside. The streets were again being treated with solution to flush away any remaining ice while the dreary evening skies filled with yet more snow. Lights from the bars could be seen tracing an arc along the rim of the harbour, but out towards the north, where the invasion would originate, there was nothing but darkness. The Victory Hole itself was becoming increasingly rowdy as traders and fishermen began lining up against the bar to talk shop in the half-light. Men, for the most part, shuffled past him huddled from the cold, many of them not wanting to make eye contact with a soldier, as if he was a bad omen. Brynd was fine with that.
Soon a hooded man with stubble shuffled up to Brynd. Expensive cut of clothing, thick grey woollen top, flashily tailored boots, the red mask: he could tell it was Malum.
‘I got your message,’ Brynd said.
‘I see you got a flair for stating the obvious, albino.’
‘You’ve reached a decision about your men helping the city in the coming war?’ Brynd asked.
‘I have. Neither the Bloods nor the Screams will join in this charade.’
Come on, you selfish fucker. ‘You realize that the city may fall because of such a decision? Because of such cowardice?’
‘Speak to me about cowardice?’
‘The fall of Villiren would be the start of something