18 Like a Rat in a Trap

CAPTAIN GRUDGE STUCK a thick finger up one nostril, twisting it left and right before pulling it out to examine with intense scrutiny. Whatever it was he’d discovered in his nasal cavity, his eyes widened a fraction before he flicked it away.

Threadfin felt an urge to slap the captain, formerly a highly talented scout, but resisted with immense effort. It was what Podral Pole would do, the slapping bit, but the viral mage had become somewhat used to the idiosyncrasies of Grudge.

Somewhat.

‘What’s your family’s name?’ Threadfin asked with mild interest as they waited. Watching from a derelict building, three floors up with rats scratching and squeaking inside the wooden walls, was dull work. A kecc whined in the distance. Unfortunately, conversation wasn’t this captain’s main area of expertise. ‘I know it’s not popular among most in the legions to use a family name. Reborn as brothers and sisters in arms and all that, but I was just wondering.’

‘Not got one, I don’t think,’ said Grudge, sticking the finger back up again, rooting it about with lazy turns. ‘My Ma never thought we needed one, I guess. My Da’s name were buried with him, and my Ma had chopped up her Ma and Da long years afore. Loved choppin’ stuff up, did my Ma. Guess she buried their name too. Loved buryin’ stuff, did my Ma.’

‘I’m surprised you turned out as well as you did, all considered.’

‘Yeah, my Ma took right care of us, she did.’ He sniffed, as he pulled his finger out again, his eyes looking teary.

As well as any psychotic evil murderess could take care of her children, I suppose. ‘So, if you marry Vilt, then you’ll take her name? I mean, one day you’ll need a second name, won’t you?’ He didn’t know Vilt’s family name either. Apparently, they considered it bad luck to ask a soldier such personal questions. Another oddity of breathers he didn’t understand.

Grudge spat out of the window. ‘Not allowed marry in the Actaeon Guard, Mr Mage, sir. No exceptions, unless you were already married to each other afore hand. Even then you’ll get split up and assigned to different legions.’

‘You won’t be a soldier forever, Grudge.’

The look he received made him wish he’d shut his mouth. A lost look filled with fear, suggesting the captain would rather die than not be a soldier. I guess, it’s all he knows. Sorry, Vilt, if you’re planning a happy ever after of some description. Then again, maybe they were happy with the way things were. Folks sometimes had weird ideas about happiness.

Threadfin and Grudge continued their vigil, staring out of the narrow window, down on the Pantheon Circle, an area paved in white travertine blocks mined from outside the city’s northern gate. Figures came and went through the Pantheon’s great bronze doors, but none were Paladin Rajax.

He spotted Vilt in a shawl and skirts, with a slight stoop, approaching the doors. They lay open, but while supplicants to the Pantheon, or visitors to the Forum, were welcome, the entire area was heavily guarded. If any of them recognised her, the game was up.

‘My Ma wore a shawl like that,’ observed the captain without prompting. ‘She wore her skirts real high too. Vilt never wears them high like my Ma done. I told her to wear ’em like my Ma, but she don’t listen. I outrank her now. She should listen.’

Threadfin didn’t know where to begin unravelling that one, but for Vilt’s sake, decided to try. ‘First off, she’s a solider. Not just some woman off the street. Second, you can’t order a woman about like that. Not unless it’s a military order you’re giving.’

‘But it was a military order. As her captain, I ordered her to wear those skirts, but to make ’em short ones in honour of my Ma. First time we argued, it was. Should I bring her up on charges or something?’

‘Um, no, Grudge I don’t think you want to go there. Not if you want to live a bit longer.’

He spotted Pole marching towards the Pantheon, smartly attired as though he was the richest, meanest bastard in Icarthya. The Darken had made it halfway across the Pantheon Circle when one of the guards recognised him. A shout of greeting, which Pole had no choice but to respond to.

A man in a dark blue cloak, hood raised, had exited the Pantheon and was also halfway across the Circle. He paused at the guard’s shout and turned. He stared right at Pole who had gotten within ten feet of him.

Paladin Rajax.

Unfortunately, Rajax also recognised Pole, and must have realised something wasn’t right. Vilt approached from behind the paladin, but didn’t force it. Rajax spotted her anyway, and turned from them both, heading west out of the Circle, moving fast. At least he hadn’t alerted the guards. Both Pole and Vilt followed.

Threadfin wanted to smile, but didn’t. Their plan was working.

Or so he hoped.

‡

WITHIN MINUTES, THREADFIN was at the prearranged spot with Grudge in tow. Along with the captain, Pole and Vilt, he blocked one end of a narrow alleyway. At the opposite end was Tezcat, her magic visible and at the ready, along with two greencloaks in plain garb.

In the middle, and cornered like a rat, was Paladin Rajax. Lowering his hood, the paladin turned to regard Threadfin with a wry smile. ‘You are making a mistake, undead one.’

Threadfin took a few steps into the shadows of the alley, recalling his own escape in similar circumstances when Ludwole Felps had hunted him. Amazing how things got turned round about.

Lyrin then stepped out of a doorway close by. Threadfin was taking no chances with this quarry.

Rajax offered her a polite nod as though nothing was awry. ‘It is obvious you all know who I am.’

‘Being a Paladin of the Church holds no meaning for us,’ said Threadfin. ‘I’ve always hated the Church, and bankers most of all.’

‘I was not referring to my mortal identity, but then you know that.’ Another wry smile. ‘Three viral mages, imperial mages no less. Such an honour, and I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve it.’

‘We wish to talk,’ said Threadfin, holding up both hands to show he meant no threat. ‘Just to talk.’

‘Ah, but therein lies your mistake.’

‘Oh, and what would that be?’

‘You should have made an appointment first.’ Raising his own hands in imitation of Threadfin, Rajax slapped them together producing a sound like a thunderclap with lightning included.

The force of several bright bolts sent everyone flying, Threadfin landing heavily on top of a groaning captain.

When he managed to recover from the ringing in his skull, he got back to his feet to discover Rajax gone.