Chapter IV

-CHAPTER IV-

Neraxes struggled to hide his glee as he sat in the hidden room above the dirty bar where he was meeting the others. This day was going perfectly where yesterday had been one disaster after another. After the bungled assassination attempt on the docks, Tavion had scuttled straight up to the castle. Neraxes had spent the entire afternoon worrying about how he could find his way in to slit the throat of the troublesome aristocrat. What’s more, there seemed to be silence from his associates to the East, and they only had a few more weeks before they missed their opportunity altogether. 

            When he had been awoken early in the morning by a messenger, he had assumed yet more bad news and was already in state of mild rage when he read the note with shaking hands.

Seeing who it was from, he had almost jumped up, and eagerly read the short missive several times before he could bring himself to believe it. It was from his man simply saying that the Bedouins were nearly ready. He had almost shouted out his excitement, but managed to contain himself. Although nothing more was specified, he knew what it meant. Soon this blasted city will burn. They will pore down on this decadent monstrosity like the wrath of God, and none shall stand in their path.

            Feeling good, he had gone across to watch the castle from a secluded spot, wrapping himself tight in a thick cloak against the morning chill. From where he stood he was difficult to see, but he had a panoramic view of the front gates little more than a hundred metres distant. Killing him in there will be difficult with the large amount of guards and possible witnesses. It could risk exposing the operation, but the longer he is in there; the higher the chance Tavion could be doing just that anyway. I need to draw him out in to the open- expose him. Otherwise, I will just have to risk sending someone in to do the dirty work. Even if they do piece it together, it’s unlikely they will be able to do anything to stop what’s coming.

            However, while he watched, he saw a commotion by the entrance. Some beggar was being kicked out onto the street. How on earth did such a creature find its way in their? Neraxes frowned, pondering the possibility of confronting the individual. His eyes roamed on automatically without really looking, intending to wait until the beggar had moved away before following him. A thought struck him then and he turned quickly back, as he realised he recognised the trousers on the wretch.

            They are made from a flag! It’s bloody Tavion! He laughed out loud at the sheer brilliance of it.

            The proud and noble Octaviannus has been kicked out on his arse. Obviously he has somehow displeased the rather volatile Lady of the castle, and is being sent away.

            As he had watched, the man’s butler followed him out, shouting abuse back at the rapidly closing castle gates. They soon gave up their futile tirade and started walking down into the city with Tavion apparently muttering and complaining as they went.

            Neraxes watched as they disappeared down a narrow street not far from where he himself stood. Waiting a few moment, he spun, cloaking whirling out and letting in a momentary breath of chill wind, and strode purposefully down the alley at his back, calculating a route which would lead on to the path the two had just taken. Meandering down a series of small paths with tenements leaning drunkenly above his head and rubbish littered around, he eventually came across an opening on to the desired road.

            Scanning the crowd, he couldn’t at first see them until he stood conspicuously on a barrel at the edge of the busy morning thong of people. Precariously, he watched, hawk-eyed, panic slowly rising at the thought of losing them.

            Just as he caught sight of them vanishing ahead, a sudden movement brought him crashing to the ground.

            ‘What the hell do you think you are doing man? Get off my merchandise! They’s bloody precious and not for some bloody perch. Be off with you!’ A large, red-faced man shooed him off in to the crowd bearing a large iron banded club.

            Neraxes cursed and scurried off in the direction he had seen his prey.

            With luck, he caught up to them soon after, standing before a large tavern with Tavion talking loudly about its merits and faults. Rolling his eyes, he watched as, after  a moment of debate, they strolled in.

            Making sure to note which inn they settled down in, Neraxes had immediately sent out messages for his colleagues via street urchins always looking for a quick coin, requesting them to meet him for an urgent meeting at the usual place.

            So it was that several hours later, he sat in a dark, stale loft waiting on the first of them to arrive, which turned out to be the man Baon. Baon was a large, generally unclean man- very strong, but not terribly intelligent. He greeted Neraxes with a grunt before moving across to his usual spot on a large bench at the side. Neraxes increased the distance between the two of them to hopefully decrease the perpetual stench permeating from him, but to little effect. Sighing, he settled in and accepted it as best he could.

            The next to arrive were Rolf and Sven, a pair of brothers from the wintry North who tended to fight together and each other as often as not. Neraxes had found them on the road on the way to Surat. They were highwayman, but Neraxes had turned them into his dogs with the offer of greater riches than the occasional under-protected caravan. They were loud and violent but still good fighters and semi-obedient despite that.

            Varren the blunderbuss- for his ridiculous weapon- appeared soon after, followed in quick succession by Matthew the ex-priest, Terry-a heavy retired merchant guard, and Sinc, a devious snake of a man who had begun to worry Neraxes with his ambitions. Apparently, he had been sent over from Russia as an aid, but Neraxes suspected there was a bit more to it than that. I have to keep an eye on him and watch my back when he is around.

            ‘I am sure you know why I have called this meeting,’ Neraxes began, seeing nods on the majority of faces, barring Baon who simply looked confused as per the usual. ‘Our target has departed the castle, and is now in residence at the ‘Fair Maiden’ tavern by the cattle market in the South of the city. To the best of our knowledge, he is no longer in contact with the Lady Cecilia, and it appears she has sent out men to find and keep an eye on him, possibly with the aim of encouraging him to leave..’

            ‘Or it’s a trap,’ put in Sinc sharply.

            Yes you dog, of course it could be a trap. One day, I am going to slowly suffocate the life from those beady little eyes of yours, and watch, watch as the last little gleam of light fades away. Your last sight of life will be my smiling face you pathetic worm. Outwardly though, Neraxes agreed, almost amiably, ‘yes, it could be a trap. We are going to watch them for a few days, see what moves he makes, and determine for ourselves the veracity of this. Varren, I want you to take up lodgings at the same inn from tomorrow night, and watch him carefully, but don’t make a move until I give the go ahead.            If it appears that he is in fact cut loose, we shall kill him. If however, this is not the case, well, we will plan that when we get to it.

            After all, he won’t necessarily know that the attack of yesterday was targeted on him, though we can assume he has this knowledge, so be careful. Any questions?’

            All of them remembered the last time someone had dared to talk back, or place doubt on what he said, so the silence held, despite a strange expression on Sinc’s face.

            Ignoring it, and the man as a whole, he waved all of them out the door, and went downstairs himself for a few drinks to pass the time till evening while his minions did their duties.

            The problem of Tavion will simply disappear in the next few days if all goes as it should.

            It had been a good day, and the next few could only get better.

            Anyone looking across at him then would have shivered involuntarily at the glint of insanity in his eye.

~

‘So, he knows where we are, and he is utterly inept at spying. I can’t believe how much effort it took us not to lose him. When he stood up on that barrel, I almost walked over to tap him on the shoulder so he knew where we were! The shopkeeper that took him down from that barrel.. Priceless.’

‘Indeed sir, he was somewhat obvious.’

            ‘And, his flair for theatrics hasn’t reduced either. What kind of person would deem a large black coat in Surat a suitable garb for shadow work? I mean, yes the morning was cold, but when every other person is wearing variations of sand-coloured garb, choosing black was hardly the most prudent of decisions. He must have sweated out half his body mass.’

            ‘Anyway sir, I think I ought to continue in my investigating, so I shall leave you to your much needed beauty sleep.’

            ‘You’re right of course. All this activity has tired me out. Be off with you my most lazy of manservants.’

            ‘Your only manservant sir’

            ‘Yes, well, if you maintain this current sloth, perhaps that will not always be the case.’

            ‘Noted sir.’ With that ludicrously insincere threat hanging in the air, Winston wandered out of the room and shut the door.

            Tavion sat as he was cross-legged on top of a muddle of sheets, listening out for Winston to descend the stairs, his limp making a noticeable effect on the sound he made. One day, I shall catch him out on that. During the fight on the ship, I am sure it vanished. Anyway, enough of that, I have work of my own to be doing. Pulling out some garb he’d secreted beneath the sheets, he dressed quickly, and moved to the back-facing window. He looked about carefully at the deserted alley before climbing carefully out so he hung by his fingertips before dropping cat-like to the ground a short distance below.

Waiting nearby, a dirty child in loose-fitting linens watched on with his head cocked. Tavion looked over at him, and then nodded. The child scampered over.

‘Found anything?’ asked Tavion

‘Well, I’ve spread the word to the rest of the boys since yesterday. Rumours are that there’s areas where even we ain’t able to go no more. Boys have been turning up slitted if you know what I mean? Me, I work this area. Good area for snipping purses, but the risk is higher.’

Tavion winced at the thought of children being killed. ‘Look, tell your ‘boys’ that they should avoid these areas at all costs. I just want to know where they are is all.’

The boy grinned, ‘I’ll take a look myself. I am pretty good at the sneaky stuff if’n you don’t mind me saying. You’re the first’en who’s managed to catch me.’

Tavion nodded slowly. The day before, Tavion had taken a more circuitous route to the castle than was strictly necessary intentionally. He had caught the young boy as he’d been about to lighten a trader strolling the street, pulling the boy kicking and screaming into a nearby alley. It hadn’t taken much to set him on the trail. Nobody watches the street orphans. Always the best ones to know the undercurrents of a city. ‘Ok, but be careful Ralph.’

‘Me? I’m always careful,’ and with that, the boy ran off back into the city at large. Tavion grimaced a moment, then, pulling some black wax from his pocket, started to rub thoroughly at his hair till not a sign of the luscious gold remained. With that, he rolled his shoulders, strolled out onto the street with the hood up on his monks robes fluttering, and a censor swinging before him as he chanted softly in Hebraic.

~

Although he had insisted to the foreigner of his unassailable confidence, at that point, Ralph wasn’t feeling quite so certain. He had jogged down to the edge of one of the more dangerous areas where one of his closer friends had recently turned up smiling the red smile. It was a warehouse complex for one of the wealthier trading franchises on the edge of the city, but still within the walls, and he now stood staring at it from the corner of a nearby intersection.

For dodgy activity, the area was almost unparalleled since the docks were so heavily guarded. It was a series of dusty warehouses all under joint control, and dozens of wagons passed through every day, collecting or dropping off a huge assortment of merchandise. Occasionally, groups of merchants would come to inspect various goods they were due to purchase, but transactions of that nature tended to occur more in the wealthier areas. Here, bulk storage was the norm, and rarely did an inspector come to spend his time searching through an almost limitless supply of material. When they did, they were always directed by highly nefarious individuals hired solely to keep just those officials away from the wrong things. More often than not, small amounts of money exchanged hands to keep those inspectors who were harder to put off from looking to closely.

Today however, the place was filled with crowds of unusual characters, bustling with another shipment of wagons from south of the city. Watching carefully, Ralph saw as the men carefully led the carts further into the complex. Interest piqued, the boy followed at a discrete pace, keeping to the shadows, and occasionally doubling back and around storehouses when he thought he was being observed excessively. The men here didn’t look too friendly, and he was in no mood to follow his friend’s fate.

After several hours of merely observing, Ralph had decided it was time to find out what was hidden in the beds of the carts. Something had been prickling his subconscious as he watched them progress. They were larger than the normal, and they were lower on their axles than most, so there was certainly something heavy in them.

Carefully, getting round the back of one of the stores where the wagons were being emptied, Ralph searched until he found a loose board which he peeled away and rested against the building.

Covering one eye with a rag from his pocket, he leant against the wall for a while, keeping an eye out for people. He counted out three minutes in his head as his da had taught him when the man was still alive- before he had been caught pilfering bread one too many times and summarily hung. Looking around one last time, Ralph nimbly clambered through the hole and into the twilight gloom.

Immediately suppressing the urge to sneeze at the dust, he uncovered the hidden eye, and found the room come quickly into some focus as his other eye slowly adapted. Stacks of crate loomed into view in all directions, with speckles of light penetrating from holes in the ceiling like a rain of gold, highlighting the particles in the air.

In the distance, more light streamed in through the open doors where more material was being loaded into empty boxes.

Hearing a scuffling noise nearby, Ralph ducked against the side of a tower of boxes nearby, breath held tight in his scrawny chest. For a few moments only he held his breath, but it felt like hours, and agony started to clutch him before he cursed himself and let it out slowly so as not to make a sound. A few moments later, a large grey rat crept into view, sniffed at the air with its speckled nose, then shot away as it picked up Ralph’s scent. He let out an inward sigh at his own over-cautiousness, but he knew the place was dangerous. There was little harm could come from being overcautious.

            A few more moments to drive his mind into action and he pushed himself to start exploring, keeping low and silent.

It didn’t take him long to find the first body. Initially, Ralph had thought it was just a small pile of rough packing wool, but the sickly sweet scent drew him in to look again, then shy away in horror with tears pricking at his eyes. It was a little girl, no older than seven or eight, only a year or so younger than he assumed of himself. The eyes were wide open and unseeing, the brightness long since left her small terrified face. Reaching out softly, he gently shut them with a shudder that went through his entire emaciated frame. Imagining her demise in this horrid place, he hunkered down beside this pale unknown creature and wept, tracks making lines in his dusty cheeks, giving the appearance of deep wrinkles and aging him terribly. The front of her faded smock had a dark brown stain where her life blood had poured gratuitously from the gaping wound in her breast, already gnawed to bone by the creatures that swarmed in the dark.

Death no longer scared Ralph. It had been he alone in the crowd that day not cheering as his father’s body had jerked spasmodically, a lone lost soul in a crowd of animals, baying for the taking of life. It had been he alone who had tugged at the executioner’s coat and begged to take his father away in his little cart, to bury him himself, and he alone who had dug the grave and prayed as the last of his family had been swallowed by the earth.

Realising he couldn’t spend much more time in there before he too was swallowed whole by his own sadness, he looked for a crate with a loose lid, and, gripping it tightly, he worked at it, sawing it back and forth to try and ease it off. The noise it made wasn’t loud, but to his own ears, the grinding of wood and metal was deafening in the almost silence. Each time he thought he had it and tried to pry it, he found it still tightly bound.

Focussing hard on his work, he scraped around the iron nails with his knife, then set back to levering. Eventually, he put his full strength into pulling at it, small muscles tightened beneath his shirt. With a loud snap, part of one of the boards broke away, and one of the light rays highlighted a cylinder of dark metal inside.

Peering in, he made out row upon row of them. He reached in to pull one loose, and drew out a musket, clean and oiled. Thoughts streamed through his mind, and he pondered as to why someone would hide modern weapons in such a place.

Rather than sit and work it out, he chose to leave and tell the foreigner what he had seen.

It was then that he looked up, straight into the face of a monster. Ralph screamed and bolted instantly. The man who had been sneaking up on him jumped suddenly at the unexpected response from the boy, and jerkily fired his pistol at Ralph, the shot zipping close over his head. With a curse, the large, bearded giant ran after the boy, drawing forth a long-bladed knife as he did.

Sweeping in and around the rough aisles, Ralph sped as fast he could to where he thought the hole in the wall was as his assailant bellowed and rumbled after him.

Every turn he made led him further into confusion and growing fear, and he could sense the gap closing. In his mind’s eye, he saw the little girl and knew his own fate was slowly catching up with him.

Dropping down in a small conclave, he pushed himself back into the recesses. The man went stumbling by without seeing him. Panting quietly with relief, he took stock of the situation as he drew his breathing under control. Somewhere nearby, his pursuer was retracing his steps.

‘Boy! Where are you? I just want to have a little word with you. You’re not in trouble or nothing. Just want to give you some food.’ The voice travelled eerily, echoing off the walls, and Ralph couldn’t place him, but then, nearby, light caught his attention, reflecting off a long, serrated blade. As if guiding its holder, its point veered this way and that, wherever the owners gaze rested

In the distance, the wall of the building was in sight, and with it, the hole, behind the knifeman. Fear knotted in his belly, and he curled further into himself, letting despair wash over him. I am weak. I am going to die here, and nobody anywhere is going to care. I will be just another meal to the rats like that poor little girl. His mind reeled at the thought of endless night, and Ralph felt totally alone.

Growling, he banished the thoughts from his mind. Not here, not today. With a primal wail, he dived forth and sprinted for the gap, leaping head-first toward the light.

A large, meaty hand closed tight around his ankle as he squirmed through, and he shrieked. Reaching back with his small fish knife, he clawed at his foe, and felt it cut into something soft. In a flash, the grip loosened, and he dragged his leg through, straight through a protruding bit of metal, tearing a jagged wound in his calf. Blood pumped out onto the ground, but Ralph didn’t care, the light suffused him, made him feel strong, and with lungs going like a pair of bellows, he ran as fast as he could back towards where he had last seen the foreigner that morning, face set hard and fierce.

Reaching the alley behind Tavion’s room minutes later, he shouted up, flailing his arms desperately.

‘Got you.’

Ralph stopped breathing altogether, as a hand snaked around his throat and drew him round. Slowly looked up and into the malevolent face of his bearded assailant, knife held aloft, crimson blood leaking onto the rusty, chipped blade from a shallow cut running along his knuckles.

‘You thought you’d got away from me you thieving street scum. For what you did to my hand, I am going to do this real slow like. I want to watch your soul falling away, and the last thing you’ll ever see in this world will be me.’ The man’s stinking breath nauseated Ralph, and he couldn’t help but stare in repulsion at the disgusting visage before him.

Out of nowhere, something large and metal struck the man on the side of the head, releasing a cloud of heady smoke and sparks. He went down like a tree, hitting the ground and lying limp as a doll.

~

Tavion stood towering before the small boy, gasping for breath, censor dashed and broken on the floor.

‘Thank God I got here in time,’ Tavion sputtered. ‘Well, I mean of course thank God. I am dressed as a monk after all. Certainly hope He isn’t offended at how I use His tools. Oh to hell with it. If He even exists, let Him strike me down if he cares.’ Tavion glared up at the sky, daring such a deity to do so. ‘Damned right. Knew you didn’t have it in you!’ A small noise drew his gaze earthward once more. Lying in a small heap, Ralph had collapsed, a pool of red soaking his trousers and puddled on the floor around him. Tavion bent down, and gently took up the small child in his arms drew him to his chest, and treading softly and with more sincerity and care than any holy man moved around to the front of the inn- the procession of a man bereft of faith.

The innkeeper looked up from the bar to shout at Tavion about bringing in a street orphan, but something obviously made him think better of it, for he wisely kept silent, as Tavion moved on, appearing to glide on air, as his feet were hidden beneath the long wool habit.

Entering his room, he lay his precious bundle down on the bed as if it were made of the finest glass, then with a speed not usual of him set to doing what he could, cutting away the material around the boys leg, wiping clean and dressing the cut, paying close attention to his subject.

When done, the boy lay unmoving, eyes closed and peaceful, tear tracks still shining on his cheeks. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, barely moving.

Tavion fell to his knees on the hard floor, and for the first time in many years, prayed to a God in whom he didn’t believe on behalf of the life of a child.

A small movement drew his awareness, and he leapt to his feet. His scrutiny found two bright little eyes holding his own, awareness clearly not quite there as Ralph struggled to focus, ‘Daddy? Is that you? I miss you daddy,’ then he fell back, chest moving more evenly as he fell deeply to sleep in a real bed for the first time in over a year, no longer looking the rough and ready youth of before. Now, he was just a child. A poor, underfed, innocent child. Tavion couldn’t bear to look any longer, and so made his way back downstairs where he threw a couple of coppers at one of the servers and sat in a corner where he could see the front entrance.

After a moment a tankard of cheap ale arrived in front of him, and quaffing long and deep, he thought of his own childhood gloomily as he waited for Winston, doing his best to avoid thinking of what lay upstairs.  Soon, a sardonic smile re-joined his features as he realised a profound possibility of his location. I am going to catch Winston limp-less when he walks in that door. Sometimes, it is just the little things that keep me going.

‘Not very attentive are you today sir?’

Table, ale, and man vanished in a heap, as Tavion at once jolted around and sprung to his feet in astonishment, then immediately tripped over his own feet. From his spot on the ground, his look blazed into Winston’s guileless features from the table next to where his had previously stood.

‘Where the bloody hell did you come from? You scared the devil out of me,’ Tavion almost shouted.

‘That seems rather appropriate given your attire, sir..’ responded his man-servant with the hint of a grin.

Tavion sat a moment longer with puzzlement etched across his features, then barked a semi-hysterical laugh. ‘B*****d.’

Regaining his feet amidst the mess, he patted down the front of his robe.

‘Where, in the name of God did you find that outfit?’ queried Winston.

‘Well, it was… I, ah, I borrowed it from a church.’

Winston laughed in genuine mirth, ‘you stole holy vestments from a church?’

Tavion looked mortified, ‘no, of course not. I intended to return it!’

Winston surveyed the man before him. ‘Well, at least the drink you just poured over it doesn’t stand out against the enormous blood stain marring the breast, and that tear up the side can only make it cooler in the sun I suppose.’

Tavion looked down in chagrin, remembering the boy upstairs. ‘One of the street children offered to check something out for me. I ran into him a few hours later behind the inn coated in blood, with a beast of a man about to shorten reduce his life expectancy to mere seconds. If I hadn’t just been returning at that time..’

            Winston nodded in appreciation ‘what did you do with him?’

            ‘I inadvertently killed him with my censor.’

            ‘Not the man sir, the child. Wait, you stole a censor too? Good grief.’

            ‘Oh, of course. Why didn’t you specify? He’s upstairs resting.’ Come, it’s time we took some food up to him.’

            Tavion turned to find one of the servers gingerly picking up the mess around him.

            ‘Ah, fetch me some food would you please. There’s a good man,’ Tavion demanded politely, giving the man a gentle push towards the large iron pot hanging over the fire. Ignoring his protestations, Tavion directed Winston to clear the mess, and waited, arms crossed as the world moved around him.

            Having acquired some stew and bread, he sauntered up the stairs with Winston in tow. Upon entering the room, he found the boy slumbering peacefully amongst the coverlet.

            Immediately, Winston moved to study the leg, moving it around to see the neatly cleansed and stitched wound that was now only seeping very slightly.

            ‘Well, whoever you found to do this certainly did a fine job. Let’s just get a bandage on here shall we.’

            A ripping noise caught his attention, and he turned to find his master carefully tearing off a large section off the hem of his robe that looked cleanest.

            ‘Ah, excellent.’ A few minutes later, the boy’s leg was wrapped and sealed, and he had begun to move around. Momentarily, he opened his eyes and stared groggily at the two men.

            ‘Where, where am I?’ he asked uncertainly.

            ‘Don’t worry young man. Your rescuers have prevailed, and you now find yourself in a most fortunate of states,’ Tavion responded cheerily.

            Ralph apparently found this less than inspiring, for he moved back on the bed till he was against the wall.

            ‘Don’t worry. You’re safe here. Here, have some food’ Winston added, in a more calming manner, gesturing at the meal in Tavion’s hands.

            Quick as anything, the boy snatched out at the platter and begun to devour it after a cursory look to make sure it was safe. Given the noises he made, he was relishing the hot stew with obvious delight.

            ‘Well look at that. He’s starving. Go and fetch some more Winston. See if we can’t put some meat on those skinny bones of his.’

            Ralph’s eyes lit up, but he said nothing as he continued his eating. Several bowls later, he sat back content, rubbing at his now distended belly.

            ‘Sir-‘ Ralph began.

            ‘Call me Tavion, boy.’

            The boy tested out the syllables on his tongue, ‘Tay-vee-en. Ralph’s the name.’ he responded with a cheeky grin. ‘I think I found something you might be interested to hear about.’

            He recanted his tale, exaggerating only slightly the dangers he had faced, but leaving out the little girl he had found.

            When he had reached the part about the weapons found, Tavion had nodded thoughtfully, but gestured to continue. Once finished, the two foreigners had looked at each other for some moments, saying little. Maybe I shouldn’t have embellished it so much.

            ‘Thank you Ralph. You’ve done us a great service today,’ Tavion assured him, drawing him out of his thoughts. He beamed up at him, making Tavion feel a little uncomfortable.

            ‘What did I say? I told you I was good,’ he said, bluster now back to normal. ‘Well, I’d better get back to the other boys. Thanks for the money! Catch you later.’ Flashing Winston’s coin pouch, he sprung back and out was through the window before either man could make a move.

            ‘That was certainly unexpected,’ Tavion said as the two stood contemplating the now empty window.

            ‘Indeed. I just don’t know how he got that pouch from me. It was attached by a knot under my jacket.’ Winston pulled forth the cut end of some twine. ‘Ah.’

            ‘Sharp one isn’t he,’ laughed Tavion boisterously.

            ‘Sir, that was all we had. How are we going to pay our way?’

            From within the folds of his robe, Tavion pulled out a gold chalice. ‘Yes, well, I may have borrowed this too.’ He reddened slightly. Winston buried his head in his hands.