the thigh, but he came on, blade smashing into the man’s face around his mouth, splitting the base of his skull and sending him crashing against a wall to slide dead to the ground.
He ignored the corpse and sized up the Tai, Merke a little confused at his reaction. There seemed to be no relief that he had been saved, only a sort of weary resignation. He stooped, wiped his blade clean and resheathed the weapon in a gaudy impractical-looking holster and held out his hands in a gesture of peace.
Merke walked forward, her Tai with bows ready and tensed.
‘Please,’ he said in serviceable elvish. ‘I have what you need. Let me help you.’
‘Then we will take it from you,’ said Merke. ‘Give me the thumb. No stranger should carry a shard of Yniss. You cannot help us.’
The man nodded and dug in a pocket, producing the statue fragment. Beside her, Vaart and Inell dropped to their knees in prayer. The stranger held out the piece reverently. Merke took it, kissed it and offered prayers that it had been returned.
‘It is ours once more,’ she said. ‘Harmony will be restored.’
She turned and gestured her Tai to rise, catching Vaart’s eye. He nodded minutely and she looked back over her shoulder.
‘You are hunted here,’ she said to the man.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am . . .’ He struggled for the word. ‘Unpopular.’
Merke smiled briefly. ‘You have done us a great service. We will take you out of here.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘Auum will want to know why. Follow. Do not tire. We will not wait.’
Chapter 43
‘My Lord, please calm down,’ said Ranyl.
‘I can’t think of a single reason why.’ Dystran nursed his cheek, feeling the tender bruising that covered it for the most part.
‘He will be found,’ said Ranyl. ‘But you have other matters to attend to urgently.’
‘Excuse me, dear friend,’ said Dystran, ‘but I do not. In case it escaped your attention, that bastard marched right into my bedroom and all the while my Protectors, whom I mistakenly assumed had no option but to protect me, were staring at their boots.’
‘My Lord, it isn’t—’
‘I could have been killed!’ Dystran heaved himself from his chair by the study fire, walked past the nervously fidgeting Ranyl and went to the windows to look out at dawn breaking over Xetesk. ‘Gods burning, I know Lords of the Mount have been assassinated in the past but never in the central Tower bedroom. That is not the sort of history I was planning on making.’
‘My Lord, you were in no danger of death,’ said Ranyl.
‘Oh, I am so relieved. Just a beating, then,’ said Dystran, turning back into the room. ‘And how did you come by that knowledge? The Protectors tell you?’
Ranyl nodded. ‘We are undertaking a thorough investigation.’
‘Hold on. Are you telling me that Xeteskian Protectors were complicit in the theft?’ Dystran frowned. ‘Is that possible? How did Yron gain such influence?’
‘Not Yron. He was merely the beneficiary of arrangements made for others.’
‘Then who . . . ?’ But he knew. He bloody knew. And Ranyl’s nod merely confirmed it for him. ‘The Raven. Is there something else you want to tell me about last night’s events?’
‘Our strike team was unsuccessful.’
Dystran shook his head slowly and kneaded his forehead. He was still slightly muddled from the spell Erys had cast but it was clearing fast.
‘Please entertain me with the details.’
‘As you know, my Lord, you yourself only authorised three Familiars, six mages and twelve swordsmen due to the war situation we find ourselves in. We have heard nothing from them. Word from the Soul Tank is that The Raven killed them all.’
‘Dear Gods, I am defended by incompetents and cretins. It was the middle of the night. They should all have been asleep bar a guard.’
Ranyl made an apologetic gesture. ‘The Raven are an exceptional group of people.’
‘I just don’t understand it,’ said Dystran, feeling the rage build inside him. ‘I do not understand it! I am supposed to be the most powerful man in Balaia yet some bunch of ageing mercenaries thirty miles away is managing to screw up all my plans. They turn Protectors into pussycats at will and it’s probably them that sent the elves in to snatch Yron from under our noses. This is a bloody walled city. How the fuck did they get in and out so easily? How is all this possible? Please tell me, Ranyl. I’d be really interested to know.’