‘No,’ said Lorn immediately. ‘She has work to tend with the others.’
Eiriann’s face hardened. ‘I’d like to go,’ she said, then added tartly, ‘Please, let me go with you, Father.’
Lorn flashed her an angry glare. Her own father, Garthel, held back a grin.
‘Yes, have your daughter come, Akan,’ said the first soldier. ‘The others can stay behind for now, at least until the duke tells us where to put you all.’
‘Put us? He means to shelter us?’ asked Lorn.
‘If that’s your wish,’ the soldier answered. ‘Please, at least come and speak to him.’
Lorn gave the soldiers his most practised smile. ‘Duke Erlik honours us. All right, then. We’ll come and speak with him. Our needs are few, and I can thank him properly for his kindness.’ He looked up at Eiriann. ‘Let Garthel look after the baby. . Daughter.’ He offered her a hand. ‘You come with me.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ said Eiriann. Playing the part perfectly, she let Lorn help her down from the wagon. Her feet clacked when they hit the cobblestone street. ‘Get some rest,’ she told their comrades. ‘We shouldn’t be long.’
Lorn kept hold of her hand. ‘We’re ready,’ he told the guardians.
The soldiers waved agreeably to the others, wished them well, then turned and started off down the avenue, leading Lorn and Eiriann away. Lorn looked around carefully, surveying the street. They were surrounded by tall buildings and flickering lamps spewing smoke into the night. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see his companions and, behind them, the gateway of Dreel getting ever smaller. They were heading deeper into the city, though Lorn knew not where. Up ahead he noticed the main thoroughfare splitting off into a myriad of smaller, narrow roads. A handful of soldiers milled along the walkways, taking no notice of them. Drunk businessmen and tradesmen caroused in little pockets, polluting the street corners. Lorn kept Eiriann close as they walked. With their armed escort they were safe from brigands, he knew, yet there were other dangers, as yet unknown to her.
‘Where resides the duke so late?’ Lorn asked. He tossed the question off casually, not wanting to arouse the soldiers.
‘Duke Erlik keeps to the Blue Ram most nights,’ said the blond man.
‘A tavern?’ Eiriann asked.
‘Aye. He owns the Ram. Most nights he’s there.’
‘All night?’ probed Lorn.
‘Till he gets tired,’ the blond man replied. ‘Come. It’s not far. .’
Lorn waited, pleased to see the crowds around them thinning. They were still on the main avenue, however, still too much in view. He scanned the dark windows of the storefronts and high apartments. Without looking he checked the sword at his side, then felt for the dagger in his boot. Blood and excitement coursed through his mind. In his ears he felt his pulse pound.
Turn off, he thought, willing them out of the broad street. His eyes darted madly about. Just turn off. .
He’d have to move quick, like a leopard. Waiting, he prepared himself with steady breaths. Next to him, Eiriann suspected nothing. Lorn let go of her hand as the avenue at last began to darken. She had wanted to come, damn her. Arguing would have made the men suspicious.
At last, the two soldiers turned a corner. The street, far narrower than the avenue, funnelled the shadows from the high brick buildings into every crevice. Up ahead lay another street, brighter and broader. Lorn knew the moment had come.
And, like the leopard, he exploded.
With his left hand he pushed Eiriann aside; with his right he drew his sword. Metal rang as the blade sprang forth. The soldiers heard the sound and began to turn. Lorn’s sword swiped powerfully forward — severing the man’s neck. Eiriann screamed. The blond soldier faltered back as his comrade’s head somersaulted, sprinkling blood through the street. Before the corpse could fall Lorn was on the blond man. Before the soldier drew his sword Lorn had pinned him. Before he could shriek a single cry his head was battered against the nearby wall. Lorn manhandled him, driving his helmeted skull again and again against the bricks. Stunned, the young man went limp. As he slumped to the ground Lorn turned to Eiriann.
‘Go back to the others,’ he ordered, trying hard to check his volume. The soldier was still conscious. Eiriann stood, horror-struck.
‘What. .?’
‘Eiriann, hurry. Get back before we’re found!’
‘What happened?’ the girl stammered. There was blood on her face and shabby dress. Her wide eyes watched as Lorn hastily removed the soldier’s helmet.
‘They know it’s me,’ he said. ‘They must!’
He set the helmet aside and slapped the stunned man’s face, waking him. The soldier’s eyes fluttered open, confused. Blood from his fractured skull trickled down his forehead.
‘Do you want to live?’ Lorn asked pointedly.
He kept his big hand clamped around the man’s throat. Amazingly, the soldier nodded.
‘Then tell me the truth. Duke Erlik was waiting for us, wasn’t he?’
The man nodded, fighting to breathe.
‘Why?’
‘To bring you,’ croaked the soldier. ‘To kill you. .’
‘What?’ Eiriann gasped. She looked at Lorn helplessly.
‘Erlik’s a snake, Eiriann,’ said Lorn. ‘I know of him from Norvor. Believe me, he’s no one’s benefactor. He must have gotten word I was coming south.’ He shook the dazed man savagely. ‘Tell me,’ he demanded. ‘Is that what happened? Were you waiting for us?’
Again the bloodied head nodded. ‘Yes,’ gasped the man. ‘Waiting. .’
‘But why?’ asked Eiriann.
‘Eiriann, go!’ Lorn snapped. ‘Duke Erlik means to capture me, to sell me to Jazana Carr, no doubt. You and the others have to leave!’
‘We won’t abandon you!’
‘I’m a danger to you, don’t you see? You have to leave Dreel now, while you can. Take the road to Ganjor.’
‘Without you? Lorn, no. .’
‘I’ll meet up with you if I can,’ Lorn said. He looked around, hunching over the soldier, trying to stay in the shadows. ‘Gods above, girl, I’ve just killed a man! No more arguing!’
‘But what will happen to you?’
‘Go!’
Eiriann started sputtering, then stopped herself. She looked desperately at Lorn and knew he was right. She turned and ran back down the street. Lorn watched her go, terrified for her safety. Already time was slipping away. He thought for a moment, steadying himself. The blond man’s groggy eyes looked up at him, pleading.
‘Don’t. . kill me. .’
Lorn tightened his fingers around the gasping throat. ‘Ah, but you’re fading fast, my friend. If you don’t get help soon, you will die. Shall I help you die?’
‘Please, no. .’
‘Does Erlik know I’m here? Has he sent others after me?’
‘No, no others,’ the man fought to explain. ‘We were told. . to look for you.’
That gem of information made Lorn smile. Suddenly he was in control again — at least until the bodies were discovered.
‘Where’s the Blue Ram?’ he demanded.
The blond man struggled to answer, consciousness fading fast.
‘Tell me!’ hissed Lorn.
‘Down. . there. .’
A feeble finger rose to point left. Lorn looked down the alley. Torches lit the area. Street noise tumbled toward them. Lorn was sure he’d find the tavern.
‘All right,’ he said, still holding his sword. ‘I mean to find your duke, assassin. And when I do I’m going to send him to the same hell as you.’
The man’s eyes filled with horror. A strangled plea rose from his throat. Ignoring it, Lorn quickly ran the edge of his blade over the man’s neck, cutting off his cry.
In less than an hour, Lorn was in the Blue Ram.
He had washed himself of blood, then taken the cape and helmet from the soldier. These he kept under his table, the helmet wrapped up in the cape, tied like a bundle of belongings. Lorn’s table was at the far end of the tavern, away from the hearth and a good distance from the busy bar. A tankard of ale that had gone flat sat before him, nursed carefully so he did not have to pay for another. A group of men played cards at a table nearby, ignoring him completely, while the barkeep kept occupied with a steady stream of patrons. It had not been hard for Lorn to locate Duke Erlik among them. The grand man sat at his own table near the hearth, laughing and drinking with a pair of fine-looking women and occasionally getting whispered reports in his ear from his caped guardians, who seemed to be everywhere in the city.