Why not, Rik thought cynically? He had seen many a whipped dog that still loved its master. He tried pushing the thought from his head. By the Light, he was in a foul mood this morning. Then again, anyone would be after what he had seen. He was surprised that he could move without screaming. It seemed impossible that all of these people could be going about their normal Solace business while Vosh lay bloating in Shugh’s cellar. Rik was with the Barbarian about one thing. He doubted he would ever eat at the Axe again.
He watched the street closely, seeing only the usual mass of peddlers, beggars, singers and kids. There was nothing sinister going on, and he doubted anything would happen to him while he was in a busy street, at least in daylight anyway. At night it would be different. At night, dark deeds got done, and the minions of Shadow came out to play.
He told himself not to be so sure. He had seen murder committed in broad daylight in the alleys of Sorrow, had heard men scream for help and no help come when the sun was at highest noon.
On the other hand, it would take a particularly confident group of killers to attack in broad daylight, and that did not seem to be this bunch’s method. They had taken Vosh drunk and off-guard in a tavern. Sensible men, he thought. It was what he would have done himself.
“And the man was killed for helping the Queen’s soldiers root out the Queen’s enemies,” said Rena. “That’s a scandal.”
“I don’t think the hill-men feel the same loyalty to the Amber Throne that you do,” he said. “And really we don’t know why he was killed. Maybe he owed somebody money or slept with the wrong woman. Men’ve been killed for jealousy before.”
A thought struck him. “You know a girl called Marla?”
“It’s a common enough name, and a lot of girls here don’t use their proper ones anyway.”
“She’s a hill-girl.”
“Few of those here. Got pregnant, chucked by their lovers, disowned by their families. Come down here to get away.”
“Most of them probably don’t. Get away I mean. Most of them are probably thrown off a cliff for dishonouring their clan’s honour. Well, it was a long shot anyway.”
“When we finish here let’s take a walk.”
“Whatever you say, lover.”
Their route took Rik and Rena out of the outskirts of the Pit and into the more respectable part of town. It was not exactly easy to spot where the change began. The houses just looked a little less run down, the people a little more respectable. There were watchmen on the street, garbed in black tabards and carrying heavy clubs. Even here they moved in groups of four, and they did not swagger, but at least they were not scared to show their faces.
He stood at the top of the slope leading down to the river and watched a massive bridgeback cross the river. The howdah on its back bore the banners of some Exalted house but it was the beast itself that held his interest. Even from up here he could sense its primal hungers, its sloth, the tiny flickers of rage that could, with enough provocation, become a bonfire. It was just his imagination, he told himself, but unease filled his heart just the same. They ducked down another street.
The shops here were of a higher quality. Although some had a burly bruiser standing by the door, at least they were respectful of passing customers. At the end of one street was a small temple, the usual statue of a dragon-winged angel standing guard over the doorway, a small dragonspire rising from its roof. The smell of incense wafted through the air. Rik caught sight of some familiar faces, emerging from inside the building.
There was Sergeant Hef in his temple best, and Marcie and all seven kids following them like ducklings following their mother to the pond. All of the kids had faces freshly scrubbed and the happy, anticipatory air of children on the morning before Solace.
Gunther was there as well, smiling for once and slipping a coin into the collection salver. He, too, was dressed in his temple best, hair washed and combed and slicked back. He seemed to have recovered fully from his encounter with the Ultari. He talked to the children with every appearance of friendliness, like a jovial uncle. It was a side of the fanatic that Rik had never seen before. Maybe going to temple brought it out in him, maybe he was just a nicer man than Rik had ever been prepared to give him credit for being.
Rik was tempted to avoid them. He doubted they would be happy to encounter him after a heavy night with a street girl in tow, but he thought about what had happened to Vosh and who might be looking for anyone who had been on the expedition to the mine, and he decided that he had better pass the happy news along, temple day or not. He was surprised to see quite a few other members of the regiment emerge into the daylight, blinking as their eyes adjusted from the dimness within.
“I need to speak to those men,” he told Rena. “Just wait here and I will be back in a moment.”
“You won’t start any trouble, will you?”
“They are friends of mine.”
He strode forward towards the Sergeant and his wife. The kids looked pleased to see him. “Here’s Halfbreed!” they shouted. He swept Karla, the littlest one up in his arms. She clung to his neck. Marcie gave him a smile. Gunther looked at him as if he had just crawled out of the sewer and was about to piss in the collection plate.
“You’re a little late for the morning service,” said the Sergeant, his monkey-face screwed up in a sardonic smile.
“It’s the last day of Mourning, too. It would have done your soul good to attend.” Gunther added. Rik was less worried about his soul than his life.
“I need to speak to you,” he said to the Sergeant, and recalling that Gunther had been in the mine, added. “To you, too. It’s important.”
Something in his tone appeared to convince them of his seriousness. They waited for him to speak. Rik put Karla down and looked at the kids. “This is not something they should hear.”
Calming the clamouring children down with promises of a swift return and candy, the Sergeant strode into an alcove within the temple doorway. After a moment of hesitation Gunther joined them. In a whisper Rik told them about Vosh, and of Weasel’s suspicions about the hill-men.
“We should report this to the authorities,” Gunther said. “The Exalted will deal with any heathens who get rowdy in Redtower.”
“I wish I had your faith in them,” said Rik. “The watch here is as corrupt as in Sorrow. If the hill-men have money, they can do what they like unless they start a riot or kidnap an Exalted.”
“Maybe in the Pit,” said Gunther. “But they would not dare out here among decent god-fearing people.”
“You might be right,” said Rik. “But I don’t think the Exalted will give a toss about this unless it affects them directly. Throats are slit in the Pit all the time. If you are wrong, you may wake up with more than a nasty taste in your mouth.”
The Sergeant nodded his agreement. “We’ll be moving out in a few days, and I doubt they will try anything in the camp, but if anybody is in town for Solace, then they might be at risk. I’ll tell the lads to be careful and not to wander around on their own.”
“Might be useful if we had a few extra knives at hand as well.”
“I’ll be mentioning it around. There’s a few of the lads will most likely relish the thought of putting a bayonet in a hill-man’s belly if they get the chance.”
“Bloodletting during Mourning is a bad thing,” said Gunther.
“Tell that to the hill-men,” said Rik. “I don’t want trouble any more than you do.”
“Where can I find you if I need to, Halfbreed?” asked Hef. He sounded all business now.