captaincy whenever one arose.
‘Quite,’ said Shrike, and he turned from the balcony and went inside to descend the great stone stairs on his way to meet the black shuttle.
9
They found the man in question just as he was leaving the square, a large brown bottle in one hand, a bag of grox cuts in the other. Ordimas marked him well: a little shy of two metres tall, notably broad and deep-chested like so many of the Nightsiders. He was thickly bearded but with a shaved head. The crude tattoo on his neck identified him as either a member or former member of the local criminal organisation known as the Rockheads.
Meaning he can fight , thought Ordimas, but I wasn’t planning on going toe-to-toe.
As the brute made his way out of the square, Ordimas ordered Nedra home.
‘No,’ said the boy, standing firm. ‘I said I’d show you. Now, let’s go back together.’
Ordimas frowned. ‘Lad, have I ever done ill by you?’
Nedra looked at the ground and shook his head.
‘Do you take me at my word?’
‘You know I do,’ muttered the boy.
‘Then do as I ask. Have faith in me now. I have business that you can’t be part of. Not this time. So go home and wait for me. Eat. Sleep. Practise with the puppets. When I return – and I will return, though it may be a day or two – I’ll want to see that you can perform Harvald’s The Smiting of the Traitor at least as well as I. Is that understood? If you can, you’ll have your first official public appearance at our next showing.’
Nedra’s eyes went wide. For a long time, he had waited to perform publicly. He wanted to make Ordimas proud. His fear for the little man’s safety still hung over him, but he nodded obediently and turned to go.
At the last second, he turned back and, on a whim, reached out for Ordimas and drew him into a crushing hug.
No further words passed between them, but Ordimas felt his heart breaking in that embrace, knowing that, after this last reconnaissance was done, he would have to leave the boy forever.
I would have stayed, lad , he thought. Even in this dingy slum, living this pitiful false life. I’d have stayed until you were a bit older at least. But His Lordship won’t allow that. I live only while I’m useful; a man owned until death.
I’ll see you right, though, son. Mark my words. This little freak, this smallest of scorpions, will see you right.
Nedra released him and ran off towards home at a sprint. Ordimas didn’t have time to watch him go, or to dwell further on their inevitable parting. He moved off into the crowds, slipping between them like a fish between river reeds. Someone spat on his hunched-back and hissed, ‘Filthy twist!’, but he paid them no heed. The miner had slipped down a side-street, and Ordimas had to keep moving at speed to keep him within sight.
Out of the market square, that proved a lot easier; the alleys were thick with shadow. Most people avoided them.
The miner never noticed his diminutive pursuer. He roughly shouldered his way past anyone on his path, walking with the swagger of one who was known and feared here on his own patch. The Rockheads controlled most criminal business in Cholixe – drugs, women, weapons, smuggling, and much else besides. They were known for being ruthless and brutal; the very qualities which had allowed them to crush their competition. Even the Civitas enforcers here on Chiaro, few as there were, tolerated the gang’s activities rather than wage all-out war on them. An uneasy accord existed. With their local monopoly on illicit products and services, the Rockheads had their claws deep in the Garrahym labour force. They could tilt the miners into striking if they wanted to, even rioting. The administrators and law-enforcers knew the cost of denying labourers their few, limited pleasures. So, within tolerable limits, the Rockheads prospered.
Arrogant oaf , thought Ordimas. Your tattoo won’t protect you from me.
But it would pose something of a problem
‘Quite,’ said Shrike, and he turned from the balcony and went inside to descend the great stone stairs on his way to meet the black shuttle.
9
They found the man in question just as he was leaving the square, a large brown bottle in one hand, a bag of grox cuts in the other. Ordimas marked him well: a little shy of two metres tall, notably broad and deep-chested like so many of the Nightsiders. He was thickly bearded but with a shaved head. The crude tattoo on his neck identified him as either a member or former member of the local criminal organisation known as the Rockheads.
Meaning he can fight , thought Ordimas, but I wasn’t planning on going toe-to-toe.
As the brute made his way out of the square, Ordimas ordered Nedra home.
‘No,’ said the boy, standing firm. ‘I said I’d show you. Now, let’s go back together.’
Ordimas frowned. ‘Lad, have I ever done ill by you?’
Nedra looked at the ground and shook his head.
‘Do you take me at my word?’
‘You know I do,’ muttered the boy.
‘Then do as I ask. Have faith in me now. I have business that you can’t be part of. Not this time. So go home and wait for me. Eat. Sleep. Practise with the puppets. When I return – and I will return, though it may be a day or two – I’ll want to see that you can perform Harvald’s The Smiting of the Traitor at least as well as I. Is that understood? If you can, you’ll have your first official public appearance at our next showing.’
Nedra’s eyes went wide. For a long time, he had waited to perform publicly. He wanted to make Ordimas proud. His fear for the little man’s safety still hung over him, but he nodded obediently and turned to go.
At the last second, he turned back and, on a whim, reached out for Ordimas and drew him into a crushing hug.
No further words passed between them, but Ordimas felt his heart breaking in that embrace, knowing that, after this last reconnaissance was done, he would have to leave the boy forever.
I would have stayed, lad , he thought. Even in this dingy slum, living this pitiful false life. I’d have stayed until you were a bit older at least. But His Lordship won’t allow that. I live only while I’m useful; a man owned until death.
I’ll see you right, though, son. Mark my words. This little freak, this smallest of scorpions, will see you right.
Nedra released him and ran off towards home at a sprint. Ordimas didn’t have time to watch him go, or to dwell further on their inevitable parting. He moved off into the crowds, slipping between them like a fish between river reeds. Someone spat on his hunched-back and hissed, ‘Filthy twist!’, but he paid them no heed. The miner had slipped down a side-street, and Ordimas had to keep moving at speed to keep him within sight.
Out of the market square, that proved a lot easier; the alleys were thick with shadow. Most people avoided them.
The miner never noticed his diminutive pursuer. He roughly shouldered his way past anyone on his path, walking with the swagger of one who was known and feared here on his own patch. The Rockheads controlled most criminal business in Cholixe – drugs, women, weapons, smuggling, and much else besides. They were known for being ruthless and brutal; the very qualities which had allowed them to crush their competition. Even the Civitas enforcers here on Chiaro, few as there were, tolerated the gang’s activities rather than wage all-out war on them. An uneasy accord existed. With their local monopoly on illicit products and services, the Rockheads had their claws deep in the Garrahym labour force. They could tilt the miners into striking if they wanted to, even rioting. The administrators and law-enforcers knew the cost of denying labourers their few, limited pleasures. So, within tolerable limits, the Rockheads prospered.
Arrogant oaf , thought Ordimas. Your tattoo won’t protect you from me.
But it would pose something of a problem
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