Swords & Dark Magic - By Jonathan Strahan Page 0,26
his sleep.
One squad moved in and spread out. The rest stayed outside and surrounded the temple. We ran into a whole lot of nothing happening on the inside. The main place of worship was round, with the altar on a short dais in the middle. That was black stone without a single bloodstain. Occupoa had a more enlightened attitude toward the disposal of virgins. Instead, the altar boasted racks of votive candles, only a handful of which were burning.
The whole place seemed a little shabby.
I had my teeth clamped so tight my jaw began to ache. This was no Rebel stronghold. Had we been scammed after all? Why did I keep recalling the Limper’s evil way of laughing when things were going his way?
I had a powerful urge to turn back. I did not.
Elmo asked, “Which way, Goblin? Silent?” He sounded uneasy. That would be because we had run into no one but the beadle.
I flashed a nervous grin, certain One-Eye would have tried to plunder that poor box had he been along instead of handling critical empire business in Utbank.
“Straight ahead. If you didn’t have a dozen guys clanking and whispering you could hear the people up there.”
I started to worry about One-Eye and Goblin again. What had been done to them while they were out of touch? Maybe Limper brainwashed them. Which could only be for the better in One-Eye’s case.
Could this raid be part of Limper’s grand scheme to discredit the Company?
Elmo prodded me. “Move along. What’s with you, anyway? You’re turning into the worst daydreamer.”
Sounds of surprised excitement broke out ahead.
The excitement was not the run-for-it kind. It was the what-the-hell-is-going-on kind. It took place in a combination kitchen and dining hall where sixteen women, of a vast range of ages, had been sharing a late breakfast. The older women asked the questions. Elmo ignored them. He asked, “Silent? Which one?”
Silent pointed.
The girl from the street shared a table with five others who might have been her sisters. An effort had been made to make them look alike, but our target stood out once you spotted her. She had an aura, a magnetism that marked her as extremely special.
Maybe our employer had taken a gander into the future and had seen what the girl might become.
Elmo said, “Silent, get her. Tuco, Reams, help him. Goblin, cover. No weapons.” All stated in a language not spoken in Aloe.
There was no resistance. The old women stopped protesting and demanding, started asking why we were doing this.
Silent stood the girl up, bound her wrists behind her. I noted that he wore gloves and was careful to make no skin-to-skin contact. She asked what was going on, once, then succumbed to fear. Which made me feel so awful I just wanted to help her. I could imagine the horrors she expected at our hands.
“Wow,” Elmo said, very softly.
“Indeed,” Goblin agreed. “Potent. Maybe she is something special.”
We went back out the way we had come in, Goblin and I doing rearguard duty. Elmo, in the lead and in a hurry, caught a kid in the process of robbing the poor box. Elmo responded harshly.
The would-be thief was unconscious when I settled down to treat his broken arm. Elmo had avoided shedding too much blood.
Goblin stuck with me. Elmo collected the platoon and, with Silent valiantly negating whatever it was the girl gave off under stress, headed for the compound. Scores of baffled Aloens watched. Some tagged along after Elmo.
Goblin studied the locals for signs of belligerence. Preoccupied, he did not hear what I thought I heard from the shadows inside the temple. If it was not my frightened imagination running away with me.
It was a drag-scrape, sudden clop! then another drag-scrape. Like somebody with a bad leg having a hard time keeping quiet while crossing a wide stone floor.
“How come you think I imagined it?” I demanded. Goblin and I were approaching the Dark Horse. Our presence was not necessary at the compound. Elmo could handle all that. And, when the temple girl proved not to be Tides Elba, he could be the man who got in there and did some serious planning on how to track and catch the real thing.
“Because I got a great view of the southern sky.” He pointed.
From out of the distance, unhurried, a flying carpet headed across town, no more than fifty feet above the rooftops. Two people were visible on the side toward us, one wearing a filthy, floppy black hat.