The Emperor of All Things - By Paul Witcover Page 0,80

‘But I would prefer not to receive a knock on the head in thanks for it.’

At that, Quare stopped short. ‘You’re letting me out?’

Longinus nodded, and for the first time, Quare noted that the servant’s normally fastidious appearance was anything but: his powdered wig had been knocked askew, and the powder on his face was streaked with sweat; his clothes were torn in places and spattered with what looked like blood – whether his own or someone else’s, Quare couldn’t say.

‘The Old Wolf has made his move,’ Longinus said. ‘He’s been preparing this for a long time, but I did not think he would strike so soon after Master Magnus’s death. Something must have forced his hand – I know not what.’

‘What do you mean, made his move? What’s going on out there?’

‘A purge,’ Longinus said, and grimaced. ‘A bloody purge – that’s what’s going on. Every regulator loyal to Master Magnus is being hunted down and killed by the Old Wolf’s men. I barely got away with my life … and your sword. Here.’ He tossed the belt to Quare, who, shifting the club to his other hand, managed to catch the sheathed weapon. Longinus, meanwhile, continued speaking. ‘You’re on the list, too, Mr Quare. Apparently the Old Wolf has decided that you’re worth more to him dead than alive. There’s not a moment to lose: we have to get out of here now. Master Malrubius is on his way here to kill you.’

‘How can I trust you?’ Quare asked. ‘How do I know this isn’t a trick?’

‘Because I know about the hunter and what it can do,’ Longinus replied. ‘I know that it drinks a man’s blood – and I know, too, that it killed Master Magnus.’

‘What? Killed him? How?’

‘As soon as we are safely away from here, I’ll tell you everything I know, I swear it. But for now, you’ll have to trust me. Master Magnus never had a chance to tell you, but he intended for the two of us to work together. Surely you recall his promise to assign a more experienced regulator to assist you. I am he.’

‘You? A regulator?’

‘Retired,’ Longinus said, and sketched a bow. ‘Now, Mr Quare, if you don’t mind, save your questions and follow me.’ With that, he turned and entered the fireplace, leaping as nimbly as Jack of the nursery rhyme over the burning logs to vanish into the back of the cavernous space. ‘Oh,’ came his voice from out of the cavity, ‘you might want to bring that appalling coat of yours.’

This was a turn of events Quare had not anticipated. He didn’t trust Longinus, but neither did he want to take the chance that the Old Wolf really had dispatched men to kill him. With all that had happened, he found that he could not discount the possibility.

The decision was made easier by the sound of voices and hurried footsteps in the corridor outside. It seemed that Quare was about to have visitors.

‘Quare!’ hissed Longinus from behind the flames.

Quare rushed to the pallet, snatched up the coat, which he bundled into his arms, along with his tricorn, and, leaving the makeshift club behind, but clutching his sword and belt, ducked under the cowl of the fireplace.

‘Jump,’ came Longinus’s voice from out of the shadows. ‘It is quite safe, you shall see.’

He heard the click of the lock turning in the door behind him. Without a backward glance, Quare closed his eyes and jumped over the burning logs, feeling the heat of the flames lick across his shins.

‘Good man.’ Strong hands took hold of him and pulled him forward, out of the heat and the smoke.

Opening his eyes, Quare found himself in a small, square room with a bell pull in one corner and a railing that ran horizontally, at waist height, around each of the three walls; each wall bore a sconce with a burning candle. ‘Why, it’s the stair-master,’ he breathed in wonder.

‘Quite,’ said Longinus even as the door to the chamber slid shut, cutting off the shouts of consternation from the cell Quare had just vacated. ‘You would be surprised, I think, to learn just how widely the stair-master may travel throughout the guild hall. Or perhaps not, knowing Master Magnus as you did. He was a man who prepared for every eventuality save one: the bizarre circumstances of his own death. But who in this world could have prepared for such a demise? Who could have imagined that such a timepiece could exist?’ He