The upshot of this situation was an almost complete absence of law and order in Silden, beyond that which was enforced by the local constabulary. And from what James could tell, it ended where the market district of the city turned into the waterfront, and at a boulevard marked by a sign of four gulls in flight. One side of the street was marked by prosperous-looking shops and homes, the other by inns and warehouses. Down the middle of the street a long red line had been painted.
‘What is that?’ asked Gorath as they rode across to it.
‘A deadline,’ said James. ‘If you’re brawling over there, no one cares. Brawl on this side, and you’re off to the work gangs.’
He motioned for them to cross the deadline and as they entered the dock district, he said, ‘Ah, I love a town where they let you know how things stand with no apology.’
Gorath looked at Owyn and shrugged. Then he asked, ‘Why is it called a deadline?’
Owyn said, ‘In the past if you were caught after curfew on the wrong side by the soldiers of the King, you were hanged.’
They rode through a series of dark streets, bounded on either side by high warehouses, and crossed another fairly large street, rumbling with waggons and large men pushing carts piled high with goods. Then they were looking at the harbour below, a jumble of docks and jetties, some stone, mostly wood, pushed hard against one another. Small boats were moving in and out of the harbour. Silden was blessed with one saving grace, the high bluffs upon which the three riders now stood, which provided shelter from the harshest winter storms.
James conducted them down the long roadway which led to the docks and pointed to an inn in front of which hung a sign made from an old ship’s anchor, painted white. A modest stabling yard stood to the side and when James rode in, a grubby-looking boy hurried over. ‘Pick their feet, give them hay and water, and rub them down,’ said James as he dismounted.
The boy nodded and James said, ‘And tell whoever’s interested that I would consider it a personal courtesy if these animals were here in the morning.’ He made a small gesture with his thumb and the boy nodded slightly.
‘What was that?’ asked Owyn.
As they entered the Anchorhead Inn, James said, ‘Just a word dropped in the proper ear.’
‘I mean the thing with the thumb and fingers.’
‘That’s what let the boy know I deserved to be listened to.’
The common room was seedy and dark, and James looked around at its clientele. Sailors and dockhands, soldiers of fortune looking for an outward-bound ship, ladies of negotiable virtue, and the usual assortment of thugs and thieves. James took them to a table in the rear and said, ‘Now we watch.’
‘For what?’ asked Gorath.
‘For the right person to show up.’
‘How long do we wait?’ asked Owyn.
‘In this hole? A day, two at the outside.’
Gorath shook his head. ‘You humans live like … animals.’
‘It’s not so bad once you’ve got used to it, Gorath,’ said James. ‘It’s a fair improvement over some places I’ve called home.’
Gorath said, ‘That is an odd claim for one who serves a prince of his race.’
‘Agreed,’ conceded the squire, ‘but none the less true for being strange. I have had an unusual opportunity to improve my situation.’
‘The opposite is my fate,’ said Gorath. ‘I was a clan chieftain; I was sought out in council and was counted among the leaders of my people. Now I am sitting in squalor with the enemy of my race.’
James said, ‘I am no one’s enemy lest he harm me or mine first.’
Gorath said, ‘I can believe that, squire, though it strains my senses to hear myself saying it; yet I can’t say that for most of your race.’
James said, ‘I never claimed to speak on behalf of most of my race. If you’ve noticed, we’re often a great deal more busy killing one another than we are causing problems for the nations of the north.’
Suddenly Gorath laughed. Both Owyn and James were startled by the sound, surprisingly musical and full. ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Owyn.
Gorath’s smile faded and he said, ‘Just the thought that if you were a little more efficient killing one another, I wouldn’t have to worry about a murderous dog like Delekhan.’
At mention of the would-be conqueror, James was reminded of the importance of unravelling the knotted cord of who was behind which plot. So far he had decided that this Crawler, whoever he might be, was more a problem for the Upright Man and his Mockers, and Prince Arutha, and whatever other local nobles he was plaguing, but his part in Delekhan’s plans was coincidence, not design.
The Nighthawks were obviously working with either the Crawler, the moredhel, or both. And what caused James to worry was that they might be again the pawns of the Pantathian Serpent Priests. At some point James would bring up the serpents with Gorath, but not here in this public a place.
The barmaid, a stout woman who had probably been a whore in her youth, but now could not rely on her faded looks to earn her livelihood, came over and with a suspicious look at Gorath asked their pleasure. James ordered ale, and she left. James returned to his musing.
There was another player in this, some faction who was orchestrating all this turmoil in the Kingdom, either the Pantathians or someone else and that was what had James concerned. Going over what Gorath had told Arutha and James several times, he said, ‘I would give a great deal to know more about those you call the Six.’
Gorath said, ‘Little is known of them, save by Delekhan’s closest advisors, and I know of no one who has actually met them. They are powerful, and have provided my people with weapons in abundance. But Delekhan’s enemies have been disappearing suddenly. I was called to council and taken on the road to Sar-Sargoth and locked away in the dungeon by Narab, Delekhan’s chief advisor.’
James said, ‘You didn’t mention that part before.’
‘You didn’t ask about what I had been doing before I met Locklear,’ said Gorath.
‘How did you escape?’
‘Someone arranged it,’ said Gorath. ‘I’m not sure who, but I suspect it was an old … ally. She is a woman of some influence and power.’
James was suddenly interested. ‘She must have a great deal of influence to get you free right under Delekhan’s nose.’
‘There are many close to Delekhan who will not openly oppose him but would be pleased if he failed; Narab and his brother are among them, but as long as the Six serve Delekhan, they will as well. Should anything befall Delekhan before he consolidates the tribes, any alliance he has forged will disintegrate. Even his wife and son are not fully trusted by him, and for good reason. His wife is Chieftain of the Hamandien, the Snow Leopards, one of the most powerful clans after Delekhan’s own; and his son has ambitions that are obvious.’
Owyn said, ‘Sounds like a happy family.’
Gorath chuckled at that, his tone ironic. ‘My people rarely trust those who are not of our own family, tribe or clan. Beyond that are political alliances and they are sometimes as fugitive as dreams. We are not a trusting people by nature.’
‘So I have determined,’ said James. ‘Then, for the most part, neither are we.’ He slowly stood up. ‘Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.’
He passed the barmaid who ignored him as she brought the ale to the table, which forced Owyn with ill humour to pay for the drinks from his meagre purse. Gorath found this amusing.
James crossed to where a man had emerged from the back room, dark skin and beard marking him as one of Keshian ancestry. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked with an appraising look. By his accent, he was a Keshian by birth. He was thin, and James assumed dangerous, and while his close-cropped beard was greying, he was probably still vigorous enough to be a deadly opponent.
James said, ‘You’re the owner of this establishment?’
‘I am,’ he said. ‘I am Joftaz.’
Lowering his voice, James said, ‘I am here representing interests that are concerned with some downturns in their business of late. There are difficulties stemming from the activities of men who have been most recently both up in Romney, and to the west.’
Joftaz regarded James with an appraising eye. ‘Why mention this to me?’
‘You live in a place where many pass through. I thought perhaps you might have heard something or seen someone.’
Joftaz laughed in a jovial manner that was entirely unconvincing. ‘My friend, in my line of work, given where we are, it is in my interest to hear nothing, notice no one, and say little.’
