The Crystal Seas

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Again Blade was prowling through the dark streets of Mestron. This time he was down among the warehouses along the waterfront, and he was not alone. There were nine men with him-three of his four sailors and six picked fighting men from the households of various Sisters of the Night. The whole Sisterhood had an interest in tonight's affair. They wanted to make sure Durkas was not only taken, but kept.

With six of their picked guards against Blade's three sailors, the Sisters no doubt thought they had taken care of the matter. Under other circumstances they might have been right. But Blade had laid plans of his own.

That was why he had only three sailors with him. The fourth had gone south to Clintrod, Gershon, and Sea Fox. If he got through with his message, Durkas wasn't going to be the only person in Mestron getting a surprise tonight.

A whisper reached his ears from off to the right-Fturn, Brigeda's chief guard.

«Nearly there, Blade.»

«Good.»

The ten men slipped catfooted into the shadows of a warehouse loading dock. Eight of them drew their swords and flattened themselves on the damp, filthy stones under the dock. Blade and Fturn remained standing, to keep watch for Durkas.

The steward was supposed to arrive in a few minutes, not suspecting anything, his mind on picking half a dozen prime girls for his amusements. The story that had gone to him was that these were kidnapped free girls, some still proud and resisting. That was the kind he liked most but found hardest to get, for he could only obtain them illegally, by such nighttime deals as this. And because the whole affair was illegal, Brigeda was sure that Durkas would not bring a strong guard. At least not one so strong that ten picked fighting men couldn't dispose of it quickly, thoroughly, and silently.

Blade hoped Brigeda was right. Otherwise he was risking himself and his men and wasting time for nothing. And if Durkas was not as much in Tymgur's confidence as rumor had it

Footsteps sounded at the top of the street; four or five men were coming along at a brisk jog as though they owned the waterfront. Perhaps Durkas thought he did. He was about to discover differently. Blade pulled his mask down over his eyes and forehead. He wanted to make the first move himself. That meant getting close to Durkas unrecognized.

The footsteps were louder now. Was it his imagination, or did Blade hear a gleeful chuckling? If he did, that could only be Durkas. And if the steward's mind was so filled with anticipation of future pleasures

Five hooded figures rounded the corner of the warehouse at a trot. Blade stepped out of the shadows and went down on one knee in a ceremonial bow.

«Greetings, Master.»

The five stopped dead but did not spread out. Blade noted that and smiled thinly. This might be very easy. His eyes searched the group, picking out one man stouter than the others and standing a little to the fore. Durkas.

«You have the wares?»

«We do.»

«In there?» A thumb jerked up, pointing at the warehouse door.

«Indeed, Master.» Blade took a deep breath. «And we bid you enter.»

That was the signal for Fturn and the men under the loading dock to lunge forward. They came out swiftly, silently, with only a faint padding of feet to give warning, swords and daggers blackened to give no betraying flashes of light.

Blade did not pay them any attention once he heard them on the move. His goal was Durkas. And he did not run. For a man trained like Blade, the steward was in easy range. Blade covered the six feet between them in a single leap.

His sandaled feet drove into the steward's stomach in a blow certain to disable the man but unlikely to kill him. The steward doubled up, then toppled to one side. Blade twisted in midair to avoid landing full force on the toppling man's chest, went down on the pavement, rolled on his shoulders, and came up.

As he did, one of Durkas's guards rushed him, sword raised for a downstroke. But the man had raised the sword a bit too high. He could not bring it down before Blade twisted again, bringing one foot hard against the side of the guard's left knee. Blade felt bone crack, saw the sword falter and swing down clear of him, then sprang to his feet. He grabbed the man by his sword arm, twisted it hard to disarm him, then heaved. The guard flew clear over Blade's shoulder so fast that he had no time to scream or even gasp. After that it was too late for him to do or say anything at all. He came down squarely on his skull. The crunch and crackle of skull and spine told Blade that at least one guard would never tell anybody anything about this night's work.

As he looked around, he realized that neither would the other three guards. Both the sailors and Fturn's men had obeyed his orders to kill, swiftly, silently, and without mercy. All except Durkas. But Blade hadn't been worried about him. The Sisters of the Night wanted him alive as badly as Blade did-at least for the moment.

He motioned to Fturn and gave orders in a quick whisper. «Roll those bodies under the dock. We don't want them found too soon. Do you have the carrying net?»

«Yes, Blade.»

«Good. Roll that»- he jerked a thumb at the sprawled Durkas-«into the net and have four of your men grab it.

Fturn was too concerned about getting out safely to be suspicious, let alone argue. Good. That was four of his men who wouldn't be able to react as fast as they should. Of course there was the risk they might panic and kill Durkas, but that was a small risk.

The men with the net spread it out on the damp stones. Fturn and Blade helped them roll Durkas into it. Blade pulled the man's hood down over his face and tied it around his neck. As long as no one recognized Durkas, no one would ask any questions about the group of silent men carrying a body through the street. It was a common enough sight-any time a master lost his temper with a slave too often or too thoroughly. Blade wondered if some of the girls Durkas had «used up» during his amusements had made their last journeys this way. He grinned savagely at the thought. If so, it was highly appropriate that Durkas should make his last journey in Nurn that way.

With half-stifled grunts and gasps, the bearers hoisted Durkas clear of the street. Blade looked up and down the alley, then nodded and set off at a trot. The other nine fell in behind him.

Down the alley, across the street, along the next alley, across another street, down another alley-they kept going at a steady trot. After the fifth street Blade threw a quick glance over his shoulder. Good. The three sailors had all drifted forward, to the head of the line. They were directly behind Blade and between him and Fturn's men. Only two streets more, and then-

The two streets passed as fast and as silently as if Blade and all the others had been moving in a dream-or a nightmare. They came to the corner and Blade raised a hand to motion them to a stop. Behind him the sound of feet faded away, as he looked down the street to the dock. Not a sound, not a movement was visible. The hull of a merchant ship threw the dock into an even deeper shadow than usual.

«Let's get down onto the waterfront. There's a place I know where we can rest and nobody will bother us.»

Fturn nodded without saying anything and motioned to the bearers. Blade could hardly keep back a sigh of relief. If Fturn had decided to balk-well, here and now would have been a bad place. As soon as they got down on the dock, however-

Two minutes later they rounded the corner of the last warehouse onto the dock and slipped into the shadow of the merchant ship. All except Blade. He stepped close to the edge of the dock, turned his back on the dark waters of the harbor, and raised his left hand to his right temple.

He held it there until Fturn stepped toward him, a worried look on his face.

«Blade, is-are you ill?»

Blade shook his head, without lowering his hand. «No, I-«Behind him he heard a faint but unmistakable splash.

Blade stiffened slightly but did not move. Fturn was still out of easy striking range. And a single, splash did not have to mean anything. A single splash could be accident or coincidence.

Then Blade heard two more splashes, and Fturn took the step that brought him within range. Together, that meant something-that the moment for action was at hand.

Blade took a single step forward, his right arm rising in a deceptively slow, flowing motion. The heel of his hand slammed up under Fturn's jaw, snapping the man's head back. Blade could kill with that blow, or compress a man's spine just enough to drop him in his tracks.

Fturn shot back, then dropped. As he hit the stones, a whole chorus of splashes sounded behind Blade. Then slim, fast-moving shapes were darting past on either side of him and hurling themselves on the Sisterhood's guards.

There were five of them-Sea Masters armed with strangling cords and knives, their pale skins darkened with grease. But their golden eyes flashed as they struck like hunting cats, as fast, as silent, and as deadly. Behind them charged Blade's three sailors and Blade himself, swords drawn to deal with any guard who panicked and drew steel.

None of Fturn's six had time to do that, even if they had the will. The five Sea Masters swirled around the two not holding the netted Durkas. There was a flurry of fast-moving bodies, a thud, two groans, and then two more thuds as the two guards collapsed.

The other four dropped Durkas onto the dock with a crash and stood openmouthed. They stood staring, unable to decide whether to fight or run. They kept standing until the matter was decided for them. Five Sea Masters, three sailors, and Blade swarmed over them, clubbing, punching, and kicking.

Blade drove his fist hard into one guard's jaw, saw the man crumple, ducked a sword stroke from a second, then stumbled over an outstretched arm. He went over backward, but converted his tumble into a backflip and came up with a knife in his hand. The guard cut at him with a clumsy sword-stroke. Blade's knife rose to block it with a clang and a shower of sparks. The guard raised the sword to strike again. Then a golden-eyed figure sprang up behind him and wrapped a padded leather thong around his thick neck. The guard's eyes bulged, his tongue thrust out between his teeth, and his face turned purple. The Sea Master whipped the cord away, and the man crumpled as limply as a jellyfish onto the dock.

Blade stepped back from the fallen man and looked around him. Fturn and his men were all down, but a quick check showed they were all more or less alive and breathing. With luck, they would stay that way.

The slimmest of the five Sea Masters stepped forward, golden eyes wide. Blade reached out and stroked Alanyra's cheek and shoulder. But his voice was crisp.

«You have the masks?»

«We do.»

«Give them out and let's be off.»

She nodded and darted off to snap orders to her fighters. Swiftly they bound Durkas's hands and feet and tied an air mask over his face, then gave masks to Blade and the sailors. Netted, bound, masked, and unconscious, the steward of mighty Duke Tymgur was lowered over the edge of the dock like a dead fish. A faint splash from below told of his hitting the water. Louder splashes in rapid succession told of the Sea Masters and the sailors following Durkas into the water. When Blade had finished adjusting his mask and looked up, only Alanyra stood gracefully on the edge of the dock.

«Coming, Blade?»

«A moment.»

He unbuckled his sagging pouch from his belt and opened it. He took out a leather bag bulging with silver and gold coins and a letter. He read the letter over one final time:

Sister Brigeda

We mean the Sisterhood no harm. But what is best for the Sea Cities will also be the best for the Sisterhood and in time for Nurn. Fear not. Durkas will not live long or die easily, though he escapes your hands. This money I leave for Sister Clarda, a gift from the Sea Cities.

— Blade

There was much else he could have added, but someone might come along and read the letter before Fturn or any of his men awoke. Blade shoved both letter and purse inside Fturn's tunic, then turned toward the water. Alanyra was gone, and it was high time he joined her and the others.

He ran lightly to the edge of the dock, took one swift look, then plunged into the harbor.