Then he heard the sounds of men upon the stairs, stealthy footfalls. Drawing one of his knives he moved to the door, opening it a fraction and peering out. At the other end of the gallery some seven men were crowding around the door of their previous quarters; the landlord was with them. The door was wrenched open and the men surged inside, but moments later they returned. One of the newcomers took hold of the landlord by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. The frightened man’s voice rose, and Sieben could just make out some of his words: “They were . . . honestly . . . lives of my children . . . they . . . without paying . . .’ Sieben watched as the man was hurled to the floor. The would-be assassins then trooped down the gallery stairs and out into the night.
Pushing shut the door, Sieben returned to the fire.
And slept.
Chapter Six
Borcha sat quietly while Collan berated the men he had sent in search of Druss. They stood shamefaced before him, heads down. ‘How long have you been with me, Kotis?’ he asked one of them, his voice low and thick with menace.
‘Six years,’ answered the man at the centre of the group, a tall, wide-shouldered bearded fist-fighter. Borcha remembered his destruction of this man; it had taken no more than a minute.
‘Six years,’ echoed Collan. ‘And in that time have you seen other men fall foul of me?’
‘Aye, I have. But we got the information from Old Thorn. He swore they were staying in the Tree of Bone – and so they were. But they went into hiding after the fight with Borcha. We’ve men still looking; they won’t be hard to find tomorrow.’
‘You’re right,’ said Collan. ‘They won’t be hard to find; they’ll be coming here!’
‘You could give his wife back,’ offered Bodasen, who was lounging on a couch on the far side of the room.
‘I don’t give women back. I take them! Anyway, I don’t know which farm wench he’s talking about. Most of those we took were freed when the madman attacked the camp. I expect his wife took a welcome opportunity to escape from his clutches.’
‘He’s not a man I’d want hunting me,’ said Borcha. ‘I’ve never hit anyone so hard – and seen them stay on their feet.’
‘Get back out on the streets, all of you. Scour the inns and taverns near the docks. They won’t be far. And understand this, Kotis, if he does walk into my home tomorrow I’ll kill you!’
The men shuffled out and Borcha leaned back on the couch, suppressing a groan as his injured rib lanced pain into his side. He had been forced to withdraw from the tournament, and that hurt his pride. Yet he felt a grudging admiration for the young fighter; he, too, would have taken on an army for Caria. ‘You know what I think?’ he offered.
‘What?’ snapped Collan.
‘I think she’s the witch you sold to Kabuchek. What was her name?’
‘Rowena.’
‘Did you rape her?’
‘I didn’t touch her,’ lied Collan. ‘And anyway, I’ve sold her to Kabuchek. He gave me five thousand in silver – just like that. I should have asked for ten.’
‘I think you should see the Old Woman,’ advised Borcha.
‘I don’t need a prophet to tell me how to deal with one country bumpkin and an axe. Now to business.’ He turned to Bodasen. ‘It is too early to have received word on our demands, so why are you here tonight?’
The Ventrian smiled, his teeth startlingly white against the black trident beard. ‘I came because I told the young fighter that we were acquainted. I said I might be able to secure the release of his wife. But if you have already sold her, then I have wasted my time.’
‘What concern is it of yours?’
Bodasen rose and flung his black cloak around his shoulders. ‘I am a soldier, Collan – as you once were. And I know men. You should have seen his fight with Borcha. It wasn’t pretty, it was brutal and almost terrifying. You are not dealing with a country bumpkin, you are facing a terrible killer. I don’t believe you have the men to stop him.’