Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,52
But he immediately got back up and, his eyes shining with fury, he stood before the one who had struck him and was now taking cruel enjoyment from the situation. They were dracs - more, black dracs — and this was how dracs behaved, as Ni'Akt knew all too well. He was the
youngest of the band. It was normal for him to be subjected to taunts and humiliations from the more senior members, until another took his place. But since that famous night in Artois when he had tried to attack that cursed half-blood, he had become a veritable punch-bag who was spared nothing. In fact, his comrades did not reproach him so much for stepping out of line as for the fact that he had been beaten, wounded, and then ridiculed. Dracs did not tolerate weaklings. And the ones taking it out on Ni'Akt, moreover, were feeling bored.
They had been cooped up in the rickety, rotting shack deep in the heart of Ile Notre-Dame-des-Ecailles for almost a week now. In the cellar their saaskir, their sorcerer-priest, was performing the necessary rituals to find the woman they had orders to kill. But for the time being they had nothing to do. Their chief, Kh'Shak, had forbidden them to even leave the shack. Under these conditions, tormenting Ni'Akt was welcome entertainment for his five companions.
Simmering with anger, his temples buzzing and his eye aflame, Ni'Akt struggled to restrain himself.
Ta'Aresh had strut k him while he'd been trying to find an out-of-the-way corner where he could eat in peace what little the others had deigned to leave him. Ta'Aresh, the biggest and strongest of their number, after Kh'Shak. Ta'Aresh who looked down on him and defied him to defend himself.
Ni'Akt hesitated.
The dracs' violent customs allowed him to fight back, just as they generally permitted the use of force to resolve even the slightest problems or differences within the group. However, Ni'Akt did not have the right to fail. If he struck Ta'Aresh, the latter could only save face by killing him. It would force a light to the death . . .
The young drac preferred to beat a retreat, which only earned him more scornful laughter.
But he had a plan.
This morning, at dawn, he had overheard Kh'Shak con-ferring with the saaskir after returning from a discreet nocturnal sortie. The chief had learned that a half-blood was looking for them, asking lots of questions and leaving bodies
behind him. Evidently, venturing into Les Ecailles did not frighten him. In fact, he seemed to arouse a peculiar fear in the dracs he encountered . . .
Like Kh'Shak, who was growing worried, Ni'Akt was convinced this half-blood was the same one they had met on the night when they had almost caught up with La Donna: he had the same black clothing, the same scarlet feather on his hat and, above all, the same round spectacles with red lenses.
To the young drac it seemed as if destiny was offering him a chance to wash away the affront he had received. This evening he would sneak out and, if luck smiled upon him, he would find the half-blood.
And then he would kill him, bring back his head, and drop it into Ta'Aresh's lap. ?
La Donna's carriage was about to take her back to La Renardiere when La Fargue and Laincourt, followed by Almades, arrived in the Grand Chatelet's courtyard at a slow trot.
Le Chatelet was a sombre fortified edifice which had originally been built to defend the Pont au Change, but had since been rendered useless for military purposes following the enlargement of Paris and the construction of new city ramparts by King Philippe Auguste in the 12th century.
Massive, sinister, and somewhat deteriorated, Le Chatelet stood on the Right Bank, its main facade looking out over rue Saint-Denis. At present the seat of the law courts under the jurisdiction of the provost of Paris, it possessed several round towers and a large square pavilion, a sort of keep which housed a prison. The sole entrance was an archway flanked by two turrets. Fairly long but narrow, it opened onto a small, foul-smelling courtyard where visitors were immediately struck by the full misery of the place.
From his saddle, monsieur de La Houdiniere, captain of the Cardinal's Guards, had already raised his arm to give the departure signal to the coach and its escort. He froze on seeing La Fargue and frowned when he recognised Laincourt, having been his direct superior until the young man had left the