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Chapter 16
Blade didn't get back to the House of the Night's Tale until nearly sunset. It had been a hot, windless day, and now they were facing the same kind of night.
Kubin Ben Sarif seldom came into the city itself to deal with this kind of affair. He left that to a handful of trusted personal agents, and one of them was on hand when Blade returned. He was a gray-haired man and looked like someone with many years of experience as a soldier or as one of Kubin's fighting men.
Without even giving his name, the man began giving orders. It was Kubin's wish that both Blade and Esseta be properly rewarded-how and in what amount would be decided later. For tonight the House of the Night's Tale would do no business, but both Hashid and Blade would stand guard at the main door nonetheless. All other doors would be locked, and no one permitted through them. He himself would arrange to relieve Blade and Hashid at intervals, so that one of them could get some sleep and still leave two men on guard.
«Does the lord Kubin suspect someone of wishing this house ill?» asked Hashid. He tried to make the question sound completely casual, but didn't succeed. Blade detected something that shouldn't have been there in Hashid's voice. Eagerness, fear, suspicion? He couldn't be sure. He could only be sure that Hashid would bear watching until this affair had blown over.
«Kubin is not worried about people's wishes,» said the older man. «He is worried about the Thieves' families who might feel called on to pay us a visit. He will seek them out, in time, and make arrangements with them.»
Blade couldn't help wondering what those «arrangements» would be. Bribery or murder? Kubin could afford the first, but had no scruples about applying the second if the first failed. Scruples were one thing he could not afford.
It was really Kubin's decision, in any case, and none of Blade's business. His own suspicions of Hashid were another matter-he had to mention them. He did so in the first moment he was alone with Kubin's agent.,
The man looked at him skeptically. «You feel that Hashid is not to be trusted?»
«Not in matters that can mean life or death to lord Kubin's servants, I think.»
«Yet you feel this only because of what you hear in his voice?»
«That, and also because he is an ambitious man. He hopes to rise high, but fears that Kubin has turned against him. He thinks that I have caused this, and so he is my enemy.»
«How do you know so well what is in Hashid's mind, Blade?»
Blade kept face and voice expressionless. «One may learn much from the women.»
The agent laughed harshly. «So one may. Perhaps I also would do well to speak to the women. But not tonight. I ca
The first hours of the night passed quietly. It was not common for such a prosperous brothel as the House of the Night's Tale to be unexpectedly closed, but it was not unknown either. Most of the customers who were turned away took it quietly, and Blade had to raise his voice only once. The customers of the House of the Night's Tale knew who owned it, and none wanted to give offense to Kubin Ben Sarif. If he wanted to close down one of his most profitable businesses on any night for any reason, it was not for them to ask why.
An hour after midnight, Kubin's agent came down to relieve Blade on guard duty. Blade did not return to the sleeping loft, but went to a mattress he'd spread on the floor at the foot of the stairs. That way he could sleep within earshot of anything that might happen at the door, weapons at hand. Blade ate some bread and cheese, drank a mug of beer, and lay down fully clothed. No one had come to the door in nearly an hour, so he found it easy to drift off to sleep.
He was sleeping lightly, though, so he awoke at the first banging of the door knocker. He rolled over and looked toward the door. In the dim light of the hall he saw Kubin's agent standing with one hand on the bar of the door and the other holding open the speaking hole just above the latch.
«I am sorry, but it is Kubin's wish that the house be closed tonight. We value your custom, and certainly we will welcome you on another night. But not this one.»
«Will there be free beer if we come back on another night?» came faintly through the speaking hole. The voice was high-pitched, like a boy's. Probably some youngster who's scraped together the money and the nerve to try his first woman and come to us for her, thought Blade. Too bad he's going to have to be disappointed.
«Free beer?» said the agent, confused. Then behind him Hadish rose from the bench where he'd been sitting.
«Of course, there will be free beer,» he said. «Give us your name, and we shall-«
«What do you think-?» snapped the agent, turning to face Hadish. He never completed the turn. Halfway through it, Hadish's right hand swept up to meet him, driving a knife into his throat. With his left hand Hadish gripped the bar and heaved it out of its brackets. The bar and the body of Kubin's agent hit the floor at the same moment. Then Hadish gripped the handle of the door and heaved it open. That took both hands and all his attention, so he did not see Blade leap to his feet.
Blade ran down the hall and gripped one end of the heavy wooden bench. He put all his strength and weight into a tremendous shove. The bench seemed to fly down the hall ahead of him. Hadish let go of the handle as the door swung open and started to turn. The bench caught him and smashed him against the edge of the door, two hundred pounds of iron-hard wood with Blade behind it. The sword he'd started to draw fell from lifeless fingers. He toppled to one side as Blade heaved the bench back, then drove it forward again.
It shot into the open doorway as three masked men started to come through. The bench caught two of them with the force of a battering ram. Blade heard the sickening crunch of a man's kneecap disintegrating, and an agonized scream that he hoped would wake the entire house.
The two men struck by the bench went backward down the front stairs, taking several of their comrades with them. The third man was more agile. He leaped up on the bench and struck at Blade with his sword. Blade had to back clear before he could get his own sword into action. Then there was a brief flurry of sword cuts, ending when Blade got under his opponent's guard and laid open his stomach and thigh.
The man was dying, but he'd driven Blade back far enough to open a path for his comrades into the House of the Night's Tale. Several more now charged through the doorway, pushing the bench back so violently that Blade had to jump out of its path.
As he did, one of the girls appeared at the foot of the stairs. She took one look at the scene in the hallway, then screamed loudly enough to nearly deafen Blade. If that didn't wake up the rest of the house, they must all be dead! He had time to shout to her, «Get back upstairs and warn them! Tell them to close all the-!» and then his opponents seemed to be swarming all over him like hungry wolves.
Blade's sword whirled and danced, slicing flesh and chopping bone. He was stronger and faster and could reach farther than any of the men facing him. He was also facing them in the cramped hallway, where none of these things gave him the edge he needed against such odds. Once more he had to give ground to avoid being surrounded and cut down. Some of his opponents had long knives, better for work at close quarters than Blade's sword.
None of the masked men seemed to be Hashomi. They screamed when his sword tore their flesh, and when they took crippling wounds they fell or drew back. The hallway rapidly became a shambles, with screams ringing in Blade's ears and the well-scrubbed wooden floor under him slippery with blood and half-buried under writhing bodies.