was to a serious-faced man dressed all in neat black who appeared silently at a door on the other side of the room. He gave Kacha an appraising glance that valued her clothes down to the nearest penny and was distinctly unimpressed.
“Sir?”
“Sorry to barge in unannounced, but we’ve, er, I’ve come to see to a few things for my father. We won’t be long. Is his study unlocked?”
“Certainly. I shall bring refreshments.” The man disappeared as if by magic, leaving Kacha feeling faintly disturbed though she couldn’t work out why.
Dom didn’t seem to feel anything and again led the way, through a set of heavy velvet curtains – deep purple with red flowers, was Dom’s father colour blind? – that led to another door of heavy wood, set with an impressive lock of tooled brass. As Rimmen had said, the door wasn’t locked, and Dom pushed on through.
If anything the study was even worse than the previous room. A series of small deep-set windows looking out over a riotous garden were framed with possibly the most hideous curtains Kacha had ever seen. The carpet almost took her eye out. There were fancy little tables with carved frills and gold edging, all crammed with expensive… tat was the word that sprang to mind, and lots of worn-looking clockwork gizmos that jerked out a few movements when activated. A bird that would flap its wings once and croak out a tune. A lady with crooked eyes sat at a desk, pen poised, ready to be wound and write a letter. A box that she couldn’t work out. Without thinking she picked it up and wound it, only to drop it when a red-tongued demon leaped out on a spring.
“Careful!” Dom said from behind a massive desk that had obviously been built to impress, with at least six different woods inlaid into it and a clockwork something attached to one corner. A closer look revealed the complicated run of gears and cogs, all in etched brass and gold, to be a pencil sharpener. “Those are worth a fortune. Early examples of clocker work, you see. Quite rare some of them. My father collects them. Ah, here we are.”
Where they were was never actually established because Rimmen chose that moment to return not with refreshments but a contingent of armed men. Too many. Kacha quickly realised she hadn’t a hope. Four of them had guns pointed before she could even reach for her sword. Four more blocked the door. The windows might have been an option, but she’d have struggled to fit through any of the panes when she was twelve.
“I really am most dreadfully sorry,” Rimmen said with apparent seriousness, “but your father sent explicit instructions.”
Dom stood like a statue, two guns pointed at his face. He looked like he was contemplating escape, as Kacha had, before his shoulders slumped. “How explicit?”
A thin smile from Rimmen. “Very much so, I’m afraid. He was prepared to give you a second chance, but not a third. He has the family name to consider, after all, as it is a name now, much more than before. These gentlemen here are to escort you to the Shrive.”
“You can let—”
“Sadly no. Kacha is also a wanted person, as you are well aware. Your father has graciously said I might keep any reward monies. Please try not to damage any of your father’s things as you leave.”
Dom was whey-faced with shock and when Kacha threw him a questioning look shook his head. Petri might have hesitated to shoot her when he had the chance, but these were just guards under orders from a man with a lot of money. They’d shoot first and apologise for getting blood on the carpet afterwards.
As if in answer to her thoughts, one of the gun men prodded his weapon into the side of her head. She was crap with guns, but one thing she did know – no matter how quick she might be, she wasn’t going to dodge a bullet from that close, especially when there was more than one bullet to dodge. Second rule of duelling, Eneko’s voice echoed in her head from all those years ago, is don’t go charging in when you can’t win. Bide your time, watch, listen, wait until you can win.
They were cuffed, had their swords taken and then the two of them were shoved out into the street. It wasn’t far to the Shrive, and the road was dark. The door gaped open ahead of