Angel's Knight Read online

  ‘Could have said goodbye,’ Tol muttered as he turned and ran for the stairs. He was halfway up before he realised Kartane’s definition of a civil conversation might be quite different to everyone else’s.

  Tol took the rest of the stairs two at a time.

  *

  A small group was waiting for Tol, gathered around the inn’s doorway. Stetch was standing nearest the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot with an expression as dark and dangerous as any Tol had seen him. Victoria stood a few feet away, her face a rainbow of blood and bruises, and next to her lurked the tall Sworn man who had accompanied her from the council chamber, a bulky pack slung over one shoulder and a rich colour to his face like he’d just run a mile in four minutes.

  ‘Move,’ Stetch growled as Tol bounced off the last step. His voice echoed through the inn, empty save for the Sudalrese and the two knights rising to Tol’s left.

  ‘Ready for another adventure?’ Kartane grinned.

  Tol stopped. ‘You’re coming?’

  ‘I’m heading that way,’ Kartane shrugged. ‘One city’s as good as another to start killing Gurdal in.’

  Tol nodded, trying not to smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Now,’ Stetch growled, his voice louder this time.

  ‘Guess who else likes adventures?’ Kartane continued, apparently choosing to ignore Stetch. He coughed pointedly, and Isallien spoke up uncertainly.

  ‘I will accompany you.’

  Somebody was tapping their foot loudly, the rhythm getting faster and faster. ‘We could probably use another sword,’ Tol said.

  He crossed the floor quickly, nodding goodbye to Estella behind the bar. He reached the three Sudalrese and turned to Victoria. ‘We’ll get her back,’ Tol promised.

  ‘I know we will,’ she replied.

  ‘We?’ He looked to Stetch, but the warrior just shrugged helplessly. What did I miss?

  ‘I am coming with you,’ Victoria said. The set of her jaw was eerily familiar, even under the bruises, and the flinty gaze was just as unyielding as Katarina’s.

  ‘Stetch…?’ the other Sworn man seemed discomfited as well as out of breath. He looked as happy as Kartane in a dry tavern. ‘The duke…’

  Stetch gripped the man’s shoulder. ‘Won’t blame you,’ he finished. ‘Send word to Stonepoint – rescue or revenge, they’ll come.’ The man nodded, taking the pack from his shoulder and holding it out to Stetch, who snorted and pointed at Victoria before stalking towards the bar where Kartane and Isallien were arguing with Estella.

  ‘This is a bad idea,’ the Sworn man told Victoria as he held out the pack.

  Victoria smiled, her bruised face distorting. ‘Me going with Stetch, or you not going?’

  ‘Both,’ he said sourly. A shout from Stetch at the bar drew his attention. ‘Stick close to him,’ he said. He thought for a moment, then added, ‘And listen to him.’ A brief nod, then a quick glance to Stetch at the bar and he turned and left, leaving Tol alone with Victoria.

  She pursed her lips. ‘I really don’t know what my sister sees in you.’

  It’s going to be like that. Based on his journeys with val Sharvina women, Tol thought that arriving on the Spur might be a relief. Charging into a pack of howling Gurdal might be better than being cooped up on a ship with Katarina’s sister. Tol took a deep breath. ‘Seems there’s a lot you don’t know,’ he said as Isallien dashed past, calling for the Sworn man to wait as he followed him outside.

  ‘And yet I still know ten times as much as you.’

  Tol glared down at the diminutive woman. ‘You have your father’s nose,’ he said, grinning as Victoria’s face collapsed into a mask of shock. Tol yanked the door open and stalked out before she could reply, kicking it shut with a satisfying thump. He heard the high-pitched squeal of frustration through the door.

  Tol smiled. Then he remembered he was about to be stuck on a ship with the woman. I’ve done it again. Me and my big mouth.

  4.

  Isallien was watching Stetch’s colleague walk away as Tol left the Ninety-Third Passage. Tol could see a scrap of parchment crumpled up in the Sworn man’s hand, and Isallien seemed to be watching it depart like a lover after dawn.

  ‘Your wife?’ Tol asked, pointing at the retreating man.

  ‘Instructions for the First Father’s bodyguards,’ Isallien said. ‘They’ll be expecting me to return. Some of us take our responsibilities seriously.’ His face softened slightly. ‘I hope she’s worth it, Kraven.’

  ‘She is. Katarina’s saved my life more times than I can count,’ Tol said as the inn’s door creaked open. ‘I owe her my life,’ he said as Victoria came out, a sour look on her face. She held the door open at a shout from inside, finally noticing Isallien for the first time.

  ‘This is none of your affair,’ she told the knight bluntly. ‘“A Sudalrese problem”, did you not say?’

  ‘I did, my lady,’ Isallien replied. ‘Yet if Kraven goes, I must see he returns to the Reve.’

  Victoria snorted. ‘You think he’ll run?’ She looked Tol over. ‘Maybe he will.’

  Tol bit his lip, and was trying to think of a reply as Kartane and Stetch stumbled out of the inn, each with a small cask balanced on their shoulder.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to stop at the tailor’s, or pack a hamper?’ Victoria snapped at the pair.

  Stetch ignored her. ‘Lose that,’ he told Isallien with a gesture at the man’s Reve tabard. He set off towards the docks, Kartane ambling along beside him. ‘Have we got time to see a tailor?’ Tol heard Kartane ask. The grunted reply was enough to make even Victoria blush.

  It’s going to be a long journey, Tol thought as he trudged after the pair.

  *

  They were waiting at the docks, two nuns and a Meracian lady clad in matching grey cloaks. Suranna saw their little group first, shouting Tol’s name and waving frantically.

  ‘Sir Tol! We thought we’d missed you.’

  Kartane and Stetch came to a stop either side of him, an impatient foot tapping an insistent rhythm as Stetch’s fragile patience wore thin.

  ‘Or maybe you’d gone to the east docks instead of the west, or—’

  ‘Thank you for everything you did last night,’ Tol said. He smiled at the three women. ‘We couldn’t have done it without…’ He stopped as he noticed the packs sitting at the feet of the trio.

  ‘We’re coming with you,’ Rachel told him.

  Tol ran a hand over his chin. ‘It’s going to be dangerous.’

  ‘Worse than last night?’ she asked. Stetch, Tol had noticed, was already shuffling away towards the line of ships in harbour as if by sheer force of will he could pull the party along with him.

  ‘Most likely worse,’ Kartane answered cheerfully. ‘Every adventure I get in with him is more fun than the last.’

  ‘We swore an oath, Tol Kraven, and if you are going into danger then we must go too.’

  ‘I’m with them,’ Suranna added.

  Tol looked to Stetch for confirmation. A half-hearted shrug from the Sworn man’s left shoulder suggested he didn’t really care as long as they left right now. Tol scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘Drayken’s only hope is to reach the Gurdal,’ he said. ‘Even if we catch him before then, he’s probably got his own men with him. At some point it’s going to get bloody.’

  ‘That’s really not much of a rallying speech,’ Suranna complained.

  ‘But we’re still coming,’ Rachel said.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Isallien protested. ‘You can’t really be considering taking women to the Spur.’

  ‘You’re coming,’ Kartane muttered.

  Tol ignored him. ‘They proved their worth last night,’ he told Isallien, ‘and did better than plenty of knights I’ve seen.’

  ‘Look a damn sight nicer, too,’ Kartane offered.

  ‘This is foolish,’ Isallien said.

  ‘Seems most things I do are,’ Tol retorted, turning on his heel and striding after Stetch who had give
n up waiting and started marching along the docks to where a lone figure waited, his fingers lost in the depths of a full black beard. Even from this distance Tol could tell the Sea Crow’s captain didn’t look a happy man.

  ‘You didn’t say anything about bringing anyone else,’ Morrow said as Stetch reached him, Tol a few feet behind.

  ‘Strays,’ Stetch muttered, gesturing at the others to hurry up.

  ‘And if you’re bringing whores aboard, they get shared among the men.’

  Something small barrelled past Tol, nearly knocking him over. He righted himself in time to see Victoria hit Stetch’s outstretched arm with an oomph.

  ‘If this scum says another word you will kill him.’ Her words cut the air like a knife, and Tol noticed the Sea Crow’s deck suddenly became very quiet and very still.

  ‘Shut up.’

  Victoria started as she realised Stetch was addressing her. ‘Stetch, how—’

  ‘Now!’ Stetch said, his voice a sharpened saw.

  ‘Victoria,’ Morrow said with a slight bow of his head, ‘you have my apologies. I had not seen you among them.’ He looked at the assembled group. ‘We’ve space aboard, I suppose.’ His eyes fell on Tol. ‘Lost a few men back west. Right, the sooner you get aboard, the sooner we get underway.’

  Suranna was first onto the deck, ignoring the scarred hand thrust out to offer assistance. ‘Captain,’ she called back, ‘tell your men that the first one to touch my sisters or I will taste steel.’

  Kartane reluctantly handed Tol the cask he carried and followed Rachel over the side. ‘She’s right,’ he said loudly. ‘These three killed half a dozen last night.’ Tol handed back the cask and followed Kartane onto the ship as the knight looked around at the deck.

  ‘We haven’t been introduced,’ he announced. ‘I’m Kartane. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?’

  Tol sighed as the men closest to him began to edge away. This is not going to be a pleasant journey.

  The others followed him onto the deck of the Sea Crow, Isallien climbing aboard last and holding out an arm to hoist up Morrow after him. ‘I am Sir Isallien,’ he told the Band of Blood’s leader.

  ‘Good for you,’ Morrow barked. ‘Now get out of my way.’

  ‘He’s going to find out who we’re sailing with and he’s not going to like it,’ Kartane whispered in Tol’s ear. ‘Come to think of it, I don’t think the nuns will be too pleased, either.’

  ‘I don’t think anybody’s happy about it.’

  ‘That’s why I brought ale,’ Kartane grinned. ‘Might even let you have a mug.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Tol muttered half-heartedly, watching the crew as they scurried back and forth across the deck. The others were all gathered around him, looking to the ship’s prow with varying degrees of disgust, concern and hostility.

  ‘I do not think you could have found a more filthy, shifty-looking crew if you tried, Kraven,’ Rachel said.

  ‘There weren’t any other choices. There wasn’t another fast ship in port, and I doubt any would take us once they knew where we’re bound.

  ‘Fast?’ Rachel scoffed as the ship lurched away from the dock. ‘I’d be surprised if we don’t drown before dark.’

  ‘Shows what you know,’ Morrow said, marching past and bellowing at his crew. ‘The Crow’s as fast as any you’ll find.’

  ‘This ship looks about as fast as a stone,’ Rachel replied, ‘and liable to travel in the same direction.’

  Morrow stopped and favoured her with a lecherous grin. ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ He marched aft without another word.

  ‘We’re sailing with pirates, aren’t we?’ Rachel asked quietly as the sails began to fill and the Sea Crow began to pick up speed.

  ‘Yes,’ Tol said. He turned away from the crew and walked back to the stern rail, watching as they left the city behind.

  Rachel came to stand at his side, the others all turning to watch High Mera as it bobbed into the distance. ‘Can we expect to survive the journey?’

  ‘Probably,’ Tol said absently, ‘but you and the other women should probably travel in pairs. I believe the captain is a man of his word, but the crew are another matter.’

  Victoria appeared at Tol’s right shoulder. ‘If that is what you think you are exactly as stupid as I thought,’ she said. ‘Stetch,’ she continued, ‘if you are thinking about throwing me overboard you should know I will tell Father you forced yourself on me.’

  Tol looked over his shoulder and saw Stetch two paces behind the duke’s daughter. From the frustration on his face, Tol thought that was exactly what he had been planning. He shrugged and stalked away towards the prow. Tol watched him go. The crew seemed to move out of Stetch’s way by instinct. Killers know killers, he thought.

  ‘Right,’ a deep voice boomed behind him, ‘let’s see about getting you settled.’

  Tol turned to find Morrow three feet behind him. I didn’t hear a thing, he thought. From the grin on Morrow’s face, he knew it as well. He followed the world’s most notorious mercenary leader, wondering whether this might just be the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe even worse than falling off a mountain.

  *

  Tol found Stetch at the prow of the Sea Crow, exactly where he had last seen him, staring ahead at what might be Katarina’s ship in the distance. Really, though, it was nothing distinct; just a smudge on the horizon. He was perfectly still, just staring out to sea, but Tol didn’t mistake that for distraction; Stetch was always alert, always expecting trouble. Despite the seemingly relaxed stance, Tol could sense the man's disquiet; impatience rolled off the man in waves. Tol thought he had begun to learn the measure of the man after their time together in High Mera, but now he saw his mistake. Men like Stetch stood alone, and you never really knew what was going on in his head; except that in his current mood it probably involved relieving the tension by murdering someone. And I have to share a room with him.

  Kartane, for all his drunken antics and uncaring attitude, had still managed to get the better of Tol. He had explained that Stetch would murder Isallien after five minutes of the man talking and that the two obviously couldn’t bunk together. Tol had grudgingly agreed, but almost before he’d finished talking, Kartane had listed half a dozen reasons why Tol would have to share a room with Stetch. A perfect manoeuvre, Tol reflected. He had underestimated Kartane a number of times, and had done it again today. It was easy, really. He looked dishevelled, wild, and was usually half-drunk at best, but beneath all that was the mind of a devious bastard. And one who survived the iron mines of Westreach, Tol reminded himself. From what he’d heard of the place, that was no small feat in itself, and before that Kartane had managed to acquire a formidable reputation that – judging by the way Morrow’s crew avoided him – had survived Kartane’s incarceration and subsequent escape.

  All in all, Tol thought sourly, I seem to underestimate an awful lot of people. When did I start to go soft? When—

  Tol spun, Illis’Andiev half out of the scabbard before he realised it was only Kartane sneaking up on him.

  The knight nodded, his long hair flapping like a hermit’s in the sea breeze. ‘No time for letting your guard down,’ he said agreeably. Under other circumstances Tol knew Kartane would have berated him or kicked him in the plums, depending on how he was feeling. Things must be bad, he thought.

  Isallien joined the trio as Kenzin Morrow swaggered up behind him. ‘Interesting companions,’ Morrow remarked, smiling as Isallien twitched in surprise.

  Stetch just grunted, not even turning around.

  ‘She’s fast,’ Morrow said, the corner of his mouth twitching once at being ignored. ‘I don’t think we’ll catch her before she reaches port, so I guess the question is whether you want to hang back and follow discreetly or sail like the wind.’

  Morrow waited, but Stetch remained silent, his back to them as he stared at the distant dot on the horizon.

  ‘They’ll hole up somewhere,’ Morrow said to Stetch’s back, ‘that would be my guess; wai
t for the Gurdal to arrive.’ He earned a grunt of agreement from Stetch and continued, ‘Surprise could be useful under those circumstances, even though you’ll want to reach her as soon as you can.’

  Tol saw Stetch’s shoulders sag. ‘I know,’ Stetch said through gritted teeth, his fingers white on the ship’s rail.

  Tol felt a hand on his shoulder, and allowed Kartane to draw him away. Standing next to Stetch didn’t seem like such a safe place to be.

  5.

  ‘It won’t work,’ Patrick said. ‘You know how stubborn the Meracians are.’

  Krom grunted as the governor’s hall came into view. The people who lived in Galantrium called it the Governor’s Palace, but Krom knew that was just because they didn’t know any better. In reality, it was a two-storey building with the governor’s apartments above and a large, open reception hall on the lower level. This, Krom had learned from the Seven, was where the Meracian lords were arguing over who was the most senior, and which of the fools should lead the army following General Convin’s untimely death. Since Convin’s demise the lords had assembled each day, trying to shout each other into submission, from what Krom had heard.

  ‘They’re not stubborn,’ Krom muttered, ‘they’re just used to getting their own way.’

  A crowd of stained white tabards had assembled in the square outside, the half-dozen guards at the hall’s door looking suitably worried. Krom made his way through the throng, Patrick at his side. He reached the front and found Korwane, Balvador and Valeron waiting.

  Patrick grabbed Krom’s sleeve as he joined the others. ‘You know they’re our allies, right?’

  Korwane was watching thoughtfully. ‘We can’t go killing the Meracians, Krom; we need their help.’

  Krom smiled. ‘I’m just going to talk to them, make them see reason.’ He strode towards the frail doors, raising an eyebrow as a guard stepped into his path. The guard stepped smartly out of the way. Still got the look, Krom thought. He put his hands against the rough wood. ‘Are you with me?’

  The answers weren’t enthusiastic.