‘People jostle each other in tight quarters,’ Stragen shrugged. ‘A
pickpocket in Emsat or Cimmura could never get away with bumping into a
client the way they do here. It’s more efficient, I’ll grant you, but it
establishes bad work-habits.’ Talen returned after a few minutes. ‘It’s
down by the river,’ he reported. ‘inevitably,’ Stragen said. ‘Something
seems to draw thieves to rivers. I’ve never been able to figure out why.’
Talen shrugged. ‘It’s probably so that we can swim
for it in case things go wrong. We’d better walk. Mounted men attract too
much attention. There’s a stable down at the end of the street where we can
leave the horses.’ They spoke briefly with the surly stableman and then
proceeded on foot. The thieves’ den in Esos was in a shabby tavern at the
rear of a narrow cul-de-sac. A crude sign depicting a bunch of grapes hung
from a rusty hook just over the door, and a pair of burley loafers sprawled
on the doorstep drinking ale from battered tankards. ‘We’re looking for a
man named Djukta,’ Talen told them. ‘What was it about?’ one of the loafers
growled suspiciously. ‘Business,’ Stragen told him in a cold tone. ‘Anybody
could say that,’ the unshaven man said, rising to his feet with a thick
cudgel in his hand. ‘This is always so tedious,’ Stragen sighed to
Sparhawk. Then his hand flashed to the hilt of his rapier, and the slim
blade came whistling out of its sheath. ‘Friend,’ he said to the loafer,
‘unless you want three feet of steel between your breakfast and your
supper, you’ll stand aside.’ The needle-like point of the rapier touched
the man’s belly suggestively. The other ruffian sidled off to one side, his
hand reaching furtively toward the handle of his dagger. ‘I wouldn’t,’
Sparhawk warned him in a dreadfully quiet voice. He pushed his cloak aside
to reveal his mail-shirt and the hilt of his broadsword. ‘i’m not entirely
positive where your breakfast or your supper are located just now,
neighbour, but I’ll probably be able to pick them out when your guts are
lying in the street.’ The fellow froze in his tracks, swallowing hard. The
knife,’ Sparhawk grated. ‘Lose it.’ The dagger clattered to the
cobblestones. i’m so happy that we could resolve this little problem
without unpleasantness,’ Stragen drawled. ‘Now why don’t we all go inside
so you can introduce us to Djukta?’ The tavern had a low ceiling and the
floor was covered with mouldy straw. It was lit by a few crude lamps that
kburned melted tallow.
djukta was by far the hairiest man Sparhawk had ever seen. His arms and
hands seemed to be covered with curly black fur. Great wads of hair
protruded from the neck of his tunic, his ears and nostrils looked like
bird’s nests, and his beard began just under his lower eyelids. ‘What’s
this?’ he demanded, his voice issuing from somewhere behind his shaggy rug
of a face. ‘They made us let them come inside, Djukta,’ one of the men from
the doorway whined, pointing at Stragen’s rapier. Djukta’s piggish eyes
narrowed dangerously. ‘Don’t be tiresome,’ Stragen told him, ‘and pay
attention. I’ve given you the recognition signal twice already, and you
didn’t even notice.’
‘I noticed, but coming in here with a sword in your hand isn’t the best
way to get things off to a ‘good start.’
‘We were a little pressed for time. I think we’re being followed.’ Stragen
sheathed his rapier. ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘no. We’re from Eosia.’
‘You’re a long way from home.’
‘That was sort of the idea. Things were getting unhealthy back there.’
‘What line are you in?’
‘We’re vagabonds
at heart, so we were seeking fame and fortune on the
highways and byways of Pelosia. A high-ranking churchman suddenly fell ill
and died while we were talking business with him, and the Church Knights
decided to investigate the causes of his illness. My friends and I decided
to find fresh scenery to look at right about then.’
‘Are those Church Knights really as bad as they say?’
‘Worse, probably. The three of us are all that’s left of a band of
thirty,.’
‘Are you planning to go into business around here?’
‘We haven’t decided yet. We thought we’d look things
over first – and make sure that the knights aren’t still following us.’
‘Do you feel like telling us your names?’
‘Not particularly. We’re not sure we’re going to stay and there’s not much
point in making up new names if we’re not going to settle down.’ Djukta
laughed. ‘if you aren’t sure you’re going into business, what’s the reason
for this visit?’
‘Courtesy, for the most part. It’s terribly impolite not to pay a call on
one’s colleagues when one’s passing through a town, and we thought it might
save a bit of time’ if you could spare a few minutes to give us a rundown
on local practices in the field of law-enforcement.’
‘I’ve never been to Eosia, but I’d imagine that things like that are
fairly standard. Highwaymen aren’t held in high regard.’ we’re so
misunderstood,’ Stragen sighed. ‘They have the usual sheriffs and the like,
I suppose?’ There are sheriffs right enough,’ Djukta said, ‘but they don’t
go out into the countryside very often in this part of Astel. The nobles
out there more or less police their own estates. The sheriffs are usually
involved in collecting taxes, and they aren’t all that welcome when they
ride out of town.’ That’s useful. All we’d really have to deal with would
be poorly-trained serfs who fare better at catching diidcen-thieves than at
dealing with serious people. Is that more or less the way it is?’ Pjukta
nodded. ‘The good part is that these serfsheriffs won’t go past the borders
of their own estate.’ That’s a highwayman’s dream,’ Stragen grinned. not
entirely,’ Djukta disagreed. ‘It’s not a good idea to make too much noise
out there. The local sheriff wouldn’t chase you, but he would send word to
the Atan garrison up in Canae. A man can’t run far enough or fast enough to
get away from the Atans, and nobody’s ever taught them how to take
prisoners.’ That could be a drawback,’ Stragen conceded. ‘is there anything
else we should know about?’ did you ever hear of Ayachin?’
‘I can’t say that I have.’
‘That could get you into all kinds of trouble. ‘Who is he?’ Djukta turned
his head. ‘Akros,’ he called, ‘come here
and tell our colleagues here about Ayachin.’ He shrugged and spread his
hands. ‘i’m not too well-versed in ancient history,’ he explained. ‘Akros
used to be a teacher before he got caught stealing from his employer. He
may not be too coherent. He has a little problem with drink.’ Akros was a
shabby-looking fellow with bloodshot
eyes and a five-day growth of beard. ‘What was it you wanted, Djukta?’ he
asked, swaying on his feet. ‘Sort through what’s left of your brain and
tell our friends here what you can remember about Ayachin.’ The drunken
pedagogue smiled, his bleary eyes coming alight. He slid into a chair and
took a drink from his tankard. ‘i’m only a little drunk,’ he said, his
speech slurred. ‘That’s true,’ Djukta told Stragen. ‘When he’s really
drunk, he can’t even talk.’
‘How much do you gentlemen know of the history of Astel?’ Akros asked
them.. ‘Not too much,’ Stragen admitted. ‘I’ll touch the high spots then.’
Akros leaned back in his chair. ‘It was in the ninth century that one of
the Archprelates in Chyrellos decided that the Elene faith ought to be
re-united – under his domination, naturally. ‘
‘Naturally,’ Stragen smiled. ‘It always seems to get down to that, doesn’t
it?’ Akros rubbed at his face. ‘i’m a little shaky on this, so I might
leave some things out. This was before the founding of the Church knights,
so this Archprelate forced the Kings of Eosia to provide him with armies,
and they marched through Zemoch. That was before Otha was born, so Zemoch
wasn’t much of a barrier. The Archprelate was interested in religious
unity, but the noblemen in his army were more interested in conquest. They
ravaged the kingdom of Astel until Ayachin came.’ Talen leaned forward, his
eyes bright. It was the boy’s one weakness. A good story could paralyze
him. Akros took another drink. ‘There are all sorts of conflicting stories
about who Ayachin really was,’ he continued. ‘Some say he was a prince,
some that he was a baron, and there are even those who say he was only a
serf. Anyway, whoever he was, he was a fervent patriot. He roused such
noblemen as hadn’t yet gone over to . the invaders, and then he did
something no one had ever dared do before. He armed the serfs. The campaign
‘against the invaders lasted for years, and after a fairly large battle
that he seemed to lose, Ayachin fled southward, luring the Eosian armies