“Describe the man who is down there,” Paedrin said to the crewman. Before letting him reply, Paedrin grabbed his arm, bent his wrist, and flung him down into the hold opening. He whipped around, kicking the second crewman in the gut hard enough to steal his wind and hopefully break a few of his ribs. He glanced and saw Hettie subduing the third in an arm lock he had taught her, leaving only the fourth.
Paedrin waited a moment and then flung himself down into the hold where the surprised crewman was trying to recover from the fall.
Shadows were everywhere. The interior of the hold was not very tall and the crewman was holding his wrist gingerly and kneeling, seeming surprised to find himself on the floor and also in pain.
The sound of heavy boots thudded. The sound and the weight were familiar to Paedrin and a pit of dread opened up in his stomach. A man emerged from the shadows of the hold. A Cruithne—specifically, the Cruithne from the Paracelsus Towers.
“Nicely done,” the Cruithne said, his expression bland. “You might want to call the Romani girl down now before they start shooting at us. It will not take them long to discover I’ve betrayed the Arch-Rike when the mooring lines are cut and we depart for Shatalin. I’m here to help you.”
He gave Paedrin an expressionless look. He was fleshy about the face and lips, his bulk sturdy and formidable. He had dark crinkled hair that was graying at the sides, and the usual soot-black skin of his race.
Paedrin stared at him, saw the armor buckled to his body, the weapons secured but not drawn.
“You are wondering if you can defeat me quickly,” the Cruithne continued. “Let me answer that for you. I was trained by Aboujaoude when I was a boy. And I’m a Cruithne, which would be the physical equivalent of kicking a boulder.” He shrugged, opening his hands to show he brandished no weapon. “Your choice, Paedrin. Trust me or fight me.”
The man had anticipated his thoughts. He was using the Uddhava. But what struck Paedrin was his demeanor. Calm and soft-spoken. If anything his words were a little slurred and hard to hear because they were spoken so softly. He presented himself as a threat on the surface but had said he was also in rebellion himself against the Arch-Rike. The Cruithne was the guardian of the Paracelsus Towers.
“Who are you?” Paedrin asked.
“Baylen of Kenatos. We met before.”
“I thought you came to the temple to arrest us,” Paedrin said.
“A fair statement. I wanted to try to talk to you before the Arch-Rike cornered you again. I’d rather not tell my story twice, and besides, she would probably do a better job telling whether or not I’m lying. The girl should come down here.”
“Hettie,” Paedrin called up the ladder. “You should see this.”
She emerged down the ladder quickly, then paused on one of the rungs, staring in shock.
“Let me start with a few things you should know about me. First—I’m not like any Cruithne you’ve known. I don’t like long speeches either, but you need information before you can trust me. I’ve been watching Tyrus for a long time. I had a feeling he was up to something. I figured it had something to do with the Scourgelands. He’s very quiet about his plans. I mentioned I knew Aboujaoude. Well, he took on a street kid and taught him something useful. How to fight and survive in the streets. More importantly, how to watch other people. I learned later it was the Uddhava. I’ve been watching ever since. When the Tower exploded, I picked up a few of Tyrus’s trinkets and thought they might come in handy or that he might come looking for them.”
He turned and looked at Hettie. “I watched your trips to the Towers, Hettie. I noticed you each time.” He stared at her, his expression dull. But his eyes were curious and the ghost of a wry smile passed quickly. “I didn’t tell the Arch-Rike about your first two visits. When the two of you appeared inside without passing through the gate, I paid a Preachán to tell me where you went. I’m guessing that Tyrus is going back into the Scourgelands again. If so, I want to join and figure that you both are the easiest chance I have of finding him.” He hunched his big shoulders, his eyes darting to Paedrin. “You haven’t tried to attack me yet. I’ll take that as a good sign. I’m fairly confident I could take you both though.”
Paedrin breathed out deeply, shaking his head. “You set a perfect trap to catch a Vaettir and a Bhikhu. We’re below deck, where my abilities are hampered. Confined spaces are an advantage to you. Yet you also know you have the advantage and gave it up by revealing yourself. Either you are crazy or trustworthy. Maybe both.”
Paedrin waited a moment and then flung himself down into the hold where the surprised crewman was trying to recover from the fall.
Shadows were everywhere. The interior of the hold was not very tall and the crewman was holding his wrist gingerly and kneeling, seeming surprised to find himself on the floor and also in pain.
The sound of heavy boots thudded. The sound and the weight were familiar to Paedrin and a pit of dread opened up in his stomach. A man emerged from the shadows of the hold. A Cruithne—specifically, the Cruithne from the Paracelsus Towers.
“Nicely done,” the Cruithne said, his expression bland. “You might want to call the Romani girl down now before they start shooting at us. It will not take them long to discover I’ve betrayed the Arch-Rike when the mooring lines are cut and we depart for Shatalin. I’m here to help you.”
He gave Paedrin an expressionless look. He was fleshy about the face and lips, his bulk sturdy and formidable. He had dark crinkled hair that was graying at the sides, and the usual soot-black skin of his race.
Paedrin stared at him, saw the armor buckled to his body, the weapons secured but not drawn.
“You are wondering if you can defeat me quickly,” the Cruithne continued. “Let me answer that for you. I was trained by Aboujaoude when I was a boy. And I’m a Cruithne, which would be the physical equivalent of kicking a boulder.” He shrugged, opening his hands to show he brandished no weapon. “Your choice, Paedrin. Trust me or fight me.”
The man had anticipated his thoughts. He was using the Uddhava. But what struck Paedrin was his demeanor. Calm and soft-spoken. If anything his words were a little slurred and hard to hear because they were spoken so softly. He presented himself as a threat on the surface but had said he was also in rebellion himself against the Arch-Rike. The Cruithne was the guardian of the Paracelsus Towers.
“Who are you?” Paedrin asked.
“Baylen of Kenatos. We met before.”
“I thought you came to the temple to arrest us,” Paedrin said.
“A fair statement. I wanted to try to talk to you before the Arch-Rike cornered you again. I’d rather not tell my story twice, and besides, she would probably do a better job telling whether or not I’m lying. The girl should come down here.”
“Hettie,” Paedrin called up the ladder. “You should see this.”
She emerged down the ladder quickly, then paused on one of the rungs, staring in shock.
“Let me start with a few things you should know about me. First—I’m not like any Cruithne you’ve known. I don’t like long speeches either, but you need information before you can trust me. I’ve been watching Tyrus for a long time. I had a feeling he was up to something. I figured it had something to do with the Scourgelands. He’s very quiet about his plans. I mentioned I knew Aboujaoude. Well, he took on a street kid and taught him something useful. How to fight and survive in the streets. More importantly, how to watch other people. I learned later it was the Uddhava. I’ve been watching ever since. When the Tower exploded, I picked up a few of Tyrus’s trinkets and thought they might come in handy or that he might come looking for them.”
He turned and looked at Hettie. “I watched your trips to the Towers, Hettie. I noticed you each time.” He stared at her, his expression dull. But his eyes were curious and the ghost of a wry smile passed quickly. “I didn’t tell the Arch-Rike about your first two visits. When the two of you appeared inside without passing through the gate, I paid a Preachán to tell me where you went. I’m guessing that Tyrus is going back into the Scourgelands again. If so, I want to join and figure that you both are the easiest chance I have of finding him.” He hunched his big shoulders, his eyes darting to Paedrin. “You haven’t tried to attack me yet. I’ll take that as a good sign. I’m fairly confident I could take you both though.”
Paedrin breathed out deeply, shaking his head. “You set a perfect trap to catch a Vaettir and a Bhikhu. We’re below deck, where my abilities are hampered. Confined spaces are an advantage to you. Yet you also know you have the advantage and gave it up by revealing yourself. Either you are crazy or trustworthy. Maybe both.”
