Ratcatcher and the grungy dwarf nodded and headed for a different tunnel. Razek looked back at her. ‘You, of course, will accept an escort back to your people, I trust. Ratcatcher will gather his rangers to see you to safety.’
‘But of course,’ Neferata said. ‘Your rangers are competent enough. They must be invaluable in these climes.’
Razek took a swig of beer. ‘Indeed,’ he said, wiping foam from his beard. ‘They can get in most places without being seen. I was a ranger, for a time, as a beardling. Best years of my life.’
‘Was it better than being Borri’s hearth-warden?’ Neferata asked.
Razek set his beer down. ‘I am no longer hearth-warden.’ Neferata sat back down. She said nothing. Razek continued. ‘My father felt that I could spend my time better overseeing our trading relations with other holds. He felt I was spending too much time among you umgi.’
That meant ‘poorly made’, Neferata knew. It was the dwarf word for human. Anger stirred in her, but she forced it down. Razek was watching her steadily. ‘Were you?’ she asked.
‘He felt I was endangering the trading relations.’
‘Ah,’ Neferata said, tapping her lip with her finger. ‘How curious.’ Because you were, you stunted little rogue, she thought. Though you did your best to pretend otherwise, I admit.
‘He saw no reason to question where the gold you pay us in is coming from,’ Razek said as the rangers arrived, Ratcatcher in the lead. Neferata stood and began to follow the group out. Razek continued to speak.
‘But I did.’
She stopped. Razek stood and trotted after her, holding something. ‘I have looked forward to meeting you again, Neferata of Lahmia. You keep the accounts balanced, just like me.’ He took her hand, pressing something into it even as he released her.
Razek strode away, leaving her alone with the rangers, who led her out. Not until she was outside, safely beneath the moon once again, did she look at what Razek had given her. It was a gold coin, stamped with an old, faded image. It was a dwarf coin, she knew, and felt a slight chill as she glanced back at the outpost, pondering the meaning of Razek’s gift.
‘If we’re planning to go, now is the time,’ Ratcatcher rumbled.
‘Lead on,’ Neferata said, closing her fingers about the coin.
TEN
The City of Bel Aliad
(–1150 Imperial Reckoning)
Bel Aliad heaved in the throes of civil war. Kontoi warred on Kontoi, noble house on noble house. Neferata moved through the incense-shrouded corridors of the ghoul-god’s temple, followed by a panting praetorian guard of half-armoured ghouls. These were the largest of the colony beneath the temple, the ones who feasted on the freshest flesh and felt no fear in battle. They carried tulwars and, remarkably, possessed some skill in their use. Khaled had seen to that, at least.
Neferata herself wore the flowing mail coat of a Kontoi, and had a jewel-hilted scimitar sheathed on her hip. She disdained the use of a helmet, having never developed a liking for the feeling of metal and wood enclosing her skull. Her armour was covered in crusted, dried blood and when she stopped, several of her whining guards licked at the stains. Neferata ignored their antics. She stood in the central plaza of the temple, where her handmaidens – those who weren’t involved in the fighting – oversaw the control of those parts of Bel Aliad that they held. Neferata scanned the faces of her followers and the priests who bustled about.
‘Where is he?’ she snapped.
‘Where do you think?’ Naaima said. The other vampire sat on Neferata’s throne, reading a report. She tossed the scroll aside and pushed herself to her feet. ‘He took as many ghouls as we could spare and went down into the tunnels. He’s heading–’
‘For the caliph’s palace, yes,’ Neferata said, rubbing her brow.
‘You should have killed him.’
‘Possibly,’ Neferata said. ‘And possibly his bloodlust will serve our purposes. As long as Al-Khattab holds the caliph, he holds the illusion of legitimacy. Khaled will be hailed as a rescuer…’
‘By whom?’ Naaima asked. ‘The people on whom he feeds openly or the nobles whom he seeks to topple? Both fight us now, as well as Al-Khattab’s conspirators!’ Naaima trembled with anger. ‘I warned you! I told you–’
‘Be silent!’ Neferata snarled, her voice echoing from the pillars. Every living thing, and most of the dead, froze at the sound of those words. Naaima stepped back, as if slapped. Neferata fell silent. She looked around. ‘Where is Anmar?’