The Shattered Crown

THIRTY-FIVE

Kaira waited in the dark. Leofric and Oswil were in their positions at either end of the alleyway, standing in the shadows, cloaks pulled tight about them. Without their armour, all three looked like any other street scum sheltering from the winter cold. It was a risk to be out here unprotected, but they couldn’t chance spooking their quarry. She would have preferred to bring more men, but too many might have given the game away. Besides, she was sure the three of them could handle a bunch of Northgate thugs.

Not that she was even confident they would need to. There was every chance this was a fool’s errand and the girl Rag wouldn’t show. Kaira had fully expected their first meeting to be their last.

She had placed trust in the girl at the time — what else could she do? — but always remembered Rag was a child of the streets. In the few days since Kaira had let the girl walk from the Sentinels’ barracks she had lost all hope of seeing her again. It had been a surprise, then, when Rag suddenly appeared in the night, breathless and fearful. She said the time was right, that she would fulfil her part of their bargain and all she wanted in return was beer and bread and maybe a pie. Kaira had seen to it she had all those things, fully expecting the girl to gorge herself, but instead she had placed the items in a sack. Before she left, they’d arranged this meeting place — a dead-end street in Northgate.

As Kaira stood, waiting on the word of an adolescent waif, she began to feel more and more foolish. Kaira was quick to trust, perhaps too quick, that much was obvious. As a Shieldmaiden she had put all her faith in the Temple of Autumn, in the Matron Mother, in the Exarch. Since then she had learned that her faith had been misplaced, that perhaps the Temples of Arlor and their figurehead, the High Abbot, were as flawed as any other institution. For years she had served as a tool, obeying the word of her superiors without question, even when her own feelings might have swayed her otherwise.

Now, as she stood in the cold, it seemed that blind trust had led her astray once more.

Merrick should have been there — he was, after all, the bait — but Kaira couldn’t stomach being near him. In the past she had risked everything for him, even gambled her life to save his, and what had she got in return?

Nothing.

Still he wallowed in self-pity, finding solace at the bottom of a tankard. Still he cared only about himself. Only now it was worse. His father had returned and Merrick had to deal with his deep-rooted resentment. Not that he faced it head on, like a warrior should. He shied from it, hid from it like a craven. She had seen him fight well enough, and his sword hand was strong. If only his heart could be the same.

To the hells with him anyway. His wallowing had caused Statton’s death and opened Queen Janessa up to sorcerous powers. She would rely on him no longer.

The sound of voices alerted Kaira to someone entering the alleyway. She forgot all about Merrick as her hand strayed to her sword — though she knew that was folly. Her wrist still ached from the wound Azai Dravos had inflicted. She might well be able to draw the weapon from its sheath but she would have been near useless with it.

‘How much farther?’ asked a voice in the distance.

‘Not far now,’ came the reply. Kaira’s heart beat faster. She recognised the voice.

As Rag walked into the scant light Kaira saw she led a group of men, five in all, of varying sizes. Instantly Kaira’s eyes strayed to the biggest of their number, identifying the greatest threat.

Once the group had reached the midpoint of the alleyway, Kaira stepped out into the light of the moon. Rag halted in front of her, but said nothing.

‘What’s going on?’ said one of the men, as they stopped behind Rag.

Kaira watched, assessing the group, giving them a chance to reveal which of them was their leader. As she did so, Leofric came up behind them and Oswil appeared from an alley to the right, both with swords drawn.

The biggest of the bunch looked down at the man to his right, unsure of what to do. The man he looked at, a short fellow whom Kaira had marked as no danger, stepped forward.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said, relaxed, calm, unafraid. ‘It’s clear you have no idea who I am, so I’ll give you the chance to leave quietly. Because I have pressing business, I’ll forget this little transgression, just this once.’

As he spoke, the men around him reached for their weapons — knives, clubs, though none of them carried a sword.

‘I know who you are,’ Kaira said pulling back her hood.

By now three of the men had squared off against Oswil and Leofric. The biggest of their number just gaped dumbly at Kaira.

‘You know who I am? Either you’re insane or lying,’ said the little man. ‘I’m Friedrik. As in Bastian and Friedrik? Of the Guild? I assume you’re robbers or killers, so you’ll no doubt have heard of me. And you will no doubt realise you’ll have nowhere to hide unless you piss off out of my way right now.’

‘Your men are free to leave,’ Kaira replied. ‘I only want you.’

Kaira stared at the little man, Friedrik, but remained aware of the hulking thug standing next to him. Even as Friedrik signalled with his hand, even as he said, ‘Harkas, do the honours,’ she still stared at him.

The brute strode towards her, his silhouette blotting out the light of the moon. As he reached out with a huge hand Kaira struck. Her sword hand might have been injured but her left was as strong as ever. And one hand was all she would need.

Before he could reach her throat Kaira grasped that big hand, twisting it at the wrist. She forced the bull of a man to his knees and he grunted, his other hand coming up to grab her. A sharp twist made him grunt again and think better of it. He could only grasp at his wrist as it teetered on the brink of snapping.

Friedrik’s remaining henchmen made their move, attacking with little style or skill. Leofric swatted the club from one man’s hand with a deft swipe of his sword. Oswil parried a stabbing knife and struck out with his pommel, breaking his opponent’s nose and sending him sprawling. The one that remained, a fat man who looked like someone had already given him a beating recently, dropped his knife and held up his hands in surrender.

‘What now?’ Friedrik asked, seeming more amused than perturbed at the easy besting of his men. ‘Are we all to be slaughtered?’ The prospect didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

‘You will come with me,’ she said.

‘Will I?’ Friedrik replied.

Leofric took a step forward, the flat of his sword connecting firmly with the back of Friedrik’s head. He was driven to his knees, his hands coming up to that mop of curly hair. Kaira expected him to moan, or at least to beg, but when he looked up she saw he had a smile on his face.

‘Looks like I will,’ he said, giggling, though Kaira couldn’t see the joke.

She glanced at the rest of his henchmen. They seemed a sorry collection. For a man like Friedrik, a man in charge of most of the illicit business in the city, they were a wholly inadequate bodyguard.

‘The rest of you can run or die. The choice is yours,’ she said, still holding onto the big man’s wrist. If any of them were going to offer any trouble it would be him, so better the rest were gone before he was allowed the chance to get up.

Without a second thought for their leader, the three thugs fled down the alley. Kaira looked at the one on his knees.

‘What about you?’

He gazed at her for a while, assessing his chances, before giving the smallest of nods.

Kaira released his wrist. He slowly rose to his feet until he towered over her. Kaira half expected him to launch himself forward, throwing his life away for one last chance to rescue his master. Instead, he walked after his fellows, down into the shadows of the alleyway, with not so much as a second glance at Friedrik.

So much for loyalty among thieves.

‘Shall we?’ Kaira asked.

Friedrik climbed unsteadily to his feet. ‘I suppose we shall,’ he replied.

Leofric and Oswil took Friedrik by the arms and marched him on into the dark. As Kaira followed behind, Rag appeared at her side. As soon as Kaira had confronted the group the girl had disappeared. Kaira admired her skill for concealment — she guessed it came in handy in her line of work.

‘There’s no reason for you to follow anymore, Rag. I think your work is done.’

‘Where am I going to go?’ the girl replied. ‘I’ve started this now, may as well see it through.’

‘If you come with us what you see might not be pretty.’

‘You think it’ll be any worse than the shit I’ve seen already?’

Kaira guessed it wouldn’t be, though how ugly things would get was yet to be seen. Much of that depended on Friedrik.

It was near dawn when they got back to the barracks. The place was all but deserted as they conveyed him to the cells. Kaira could have handed him over to the Greencoats, but she had learned enough to know they could not be trusted, not with a man as important as this. If word spread that they held one of the masters of the Guild he would be dead or fled within the day. Better that she kept her hands on him for the time being.

Why there were cells in the barracks of the Skyhelm Sentinels Kaira had no idea. Perhaps because of some age old tradition that military or political prisoners be kept there. Perhaps because of something more sinister. Whatever the reason, Kaira was thankful for it.

Friedrik was sat in a chair, his hands bound behind him. Leofric and Oswil stood outside the door and Kaira was grateful for their discretion. For a fleeting moment she had considered waking Captain Garret. He should, after all, be informed of what type of guest had arrived, but Kaira wanted some time alone with Friedrik first. She’d been hunting this man for a long while. Had failed in her task to find him once. It was one of the reasons she had turned her back on the Temple of Autumn. She was curious to know the man responsible for much of the suffering in this city.

As she stared at him, Kaira wondered what to say. What could she say? She had never interrogated anyone before. Kaira Stormfall was a warrior, a protector. She was no inquisitor.

‘Is this where the torture begins?’ Friedrik asked.

Kaira turned, opening her mouth, wanting to tell him to be silent, but she could find no words.

Was it where the torture would begin? Was this where she would beat him? Cut him? Slice off his extremities?

That is not you. That has never been your way. It’s not likely you will start now.

‘I will ask you some questions,’ she replied.

‘Questions?’ he said, his lips turning up into a smile. ‘How utterly tedious. Surely it’s time to send in the boys, let the fun begin?’

What was wrong with this man? He couldn’t really relish the thought of being tortured … unless of course it was all bravado.

‘Where is the Guild based?’ said Kaira. ‘From where do you organise this city’s criminals?’

Friedrik laughed. ‘Really? That’s all you can come up with? Some dull question you know I’ll never answer? Do be serious, dear, and stop wasting my time.’

‘I will have an answer to my question,’ she said, standing before him, holding him in a steel gaze. A gaze she had used on the battlefield, a gaze that had made veteran warriors crumble.

Friedrik just smiled again. ‘Am I meant to be intimidated? By a woman? Is this some kind of joke? I’m guessing a real interrogator will be here in a minute to put me to the question, while you go off and fetch the tea. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Kaira’s fists clenched, her teeth grinding together. She had bloodied men for less.

‘Where? Tell me or I swear by Vorena I’ll-’

‘You’ll what? You’ll pull out my fingernails? You’ll cut out my eyes? Then get the fuck on with it, because listening to you going on, girl, is giving me a stinking fucking headache.’

She hit him, hard in the gut, without thinking. Her wrist suddenly blazed in pain as she felt the stitches pull tight. Kaira gritted her teeth against it, not wanting to show any weakness in front of this man, but she needn’t have bothered. Friedrik was doubled over, gasping for air. But as she took a step back and as he laboured for breath, he slowly looked up, eyes wide, revealing a glint of the insane as he forced his mouth into a grimace.

‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ Friedrik said, his face reddening with every strained word. ‘Much fucking better.’

Kaira knew she’d never be able to do better. The man was helpless — insane but helpless — and it was not in her to make a man suffer if he could not fight back. Even a man such as this, a man who would see hundreds sent into slavery just to line his own pocket.

She turned for the door, hearing him laugh as she opened it. Once she had slammed it closed behind her, she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Just being near Friedrik seemed to infect her; he was poison, a canker on her and this city. She raised a hand to her brow and felt a sheen of cooling sweat there.

‘You all right?’ asked Leofric, who was standing guard nearby.

Kaira nodded, then spotted Rag crouched down in the passageway. Kaira suddenly felt the bite of shame. This girl, this child, had been at Friedrik’s side for weeks, months maybe. How had she managed to live with such a man? For a moment Kaira began to appreciate the girl’s bravery.

But maybe she’s not just brave. She must be cunning too, to have survived so long. Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on.

‘Rag, stand up,’ said Kaira.

The girl obeyed. ‘Won’t talk, will he?’ she said.

Kaira shook her head. ‘No, he won’t. He won’t tell me anything. Can you tell me anything, Rag?’

The girl shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t know nothing,’ she replied. ‘I’m just Friedrik’s pet. He don’t tell me none of what he gets up to and I only know one of his hideouts and that won’t be much use now he’s not in it. Only thing I ever get to see is people being hurt. Only people I meet in the Guild come and go as they please. Now you’ve got Friedrik I might never see none of them again.’

‘Then I need to get him to talk,’ Kaira said, as much to herself as to the girl. ‘But it can’t be the Greencoats or the Inquisition. It can’t be anyone who might have any links with the Guild.’

Rag looked doubtful, then brightened as though she’d had an idea, but the expression was gone as soon as it arrived.

‘What is it?’ Kaira asked.

‘Well … there might be someone we can trust, but I don’t know how good he’ll be at making Friedrik talk. He might just as likely strangle him as soon as he sets eyes on him.’ A mischievous smile crept onto her face. ‘Friedrik’ll shit himself when he sees him, though.’