The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [88]
In the packed crowd Pirrallo stayed standing, his head flopped a little back as if he stared at the dragon coiling in the sky. With a twist of his hips Gwin stepped back; the fat man automatically moved sideways to take his place and to prop up, all unconsciously, a corpse. With muttered apologies and servile ducks of his head Gwin made his way through the crowd until at last he was free, out in the nearly deserted marketplace. At first he strolled casually away; then, when he was back in dark streets, he trotted along, but not too fast, as if he were only a slave on an errand. The main road out to the public campground rose steadily, so that by the time he cleared the gates he could look back and see, at some distance down the hill, the glowing flower of Krysello’s fires far behind him.
Out on the open road he slowed to a walk, strode along and thought of absolutely nothing at all until he saw the campfire of their fake caravan ahead of him. Only then did he truly realize what he’d done. Why he’d done it was still a deeper mystery to him than any dweomer, but he knew he’d have to come up with some sort of story fast.
“There you are,” Vandar called out. “Where’s Pirrallo?”
“Dead. I killed him.”
“You what?” Brinonno leapt to his feet.
“Killed him. Knifed him, actually.” Gwin paused, letting out his breath in a long sigh and rubbing his face with both hands. “The dog was lapping up wine at the show, and his tongue got loose. By the stinking feet of the Clawed Ones! There were archon’s men all over the marketplace! What if they’d heard him sneering and bragging, saying that once this job was done, he’d have the three of us under his knife? He was supposed to give the Hawkmaster his report on us tonight, and I knew it was going to be bad, so I killed him.”
They stared at him, simply stared for a long moment of shock.
“I’ll take a horse and head off on my own. Are you going to try to stop me? Or you can come after me if you dare. Track me down, turn me in, and get a little glory from the guild—if you can.”
“Don’t talk like an imbecile!” Vandar snapped. “You could kill us both half-asleep, and we all know it.”
“The question is why we aren’t dead already,” Brinonno said. “You’re carrying two daggers.”
Gwin laughed, but he stayed on guard.
“If you want to come into this scheme with me, I could use your help. Between the three of us we can take Rhodry on the road and strike ourselves a real bargain.”
“How?” Vandar said. “I can’t see the Hawkmaster deigning to talk to traitors.”
“Who’s talking about the Hawkmaster? There’s more than one faction in the Brotherhood, isn’t there?”
“So there is.” Brinonno laughed, one sharp bark like a startled fox. “All right, I’ll join you.”
“Me, too,” Vandar said. “And you know why you can trust us? Because we don’t have any real choice, do we? If we don’t find someone to take us on, we’re going to die slowly ai the hands of the guild no matter what we do.”
“You’re exactly right.” Gwin felt himself smiling, as lightheaded as a drunk. “And let’s pray to all the demons in Hel] that I can think of some clever way to get in touch with the Hawkmaster’s enemies, or the Clawed Ones will be eating our souls for dinner soon enough.”
Working as fast as they could, they packed up their gear, roped together their stock, and headed north out of Albara that very night, before the archon’s men could identify Pirrallo’s corpse and come asking his so-called servants questions.