Shadow Prowler - By Alexey Pehov Page 0,103

. . . and then these lads took out their weapons and tried to finish me off for good measure. Fortunately, I’d brought this thing back with me from the chapel and I was able to hold them off until my colleagues arrived.”

For nodded casually in the direction of a heavy ceremonial mace lying on the table. Oho! From the look of it, someone’s head must have taken a real battering.

Meanwhile the priest had finally finished cleaning up. He grabbed his bucket in one hand, his rag in the other, and left For and me on our own. The servants of Sagot are not like other priests. These lads in gray cassocks can do more than just pray to the gods, they can wash the floor, mend a hole in the roof, or fight off professional killers.

“Sagot!” For exclaimed, raising his hands toward the ceiling. “They can only put in a new door in the morning, meanwhile we’ll have to pass the time without it. Has he gone?”

“Uh-huh.” I glanced out of the room and then sank down onto a chair with a weary sigh. That day, like every other day that week, had been a hard one, and very eventful. “So what did you want to say to me?”

“Harold, kid,” For began, “the papers have disappeared . . .”

“Which papers?” I asked, not realizing what he was talking about.

“Those papers,” said For. “When I got here, one of those men was rummaging in the safe, but they weren’t there anymore.”

“Don’t worry, I took the papers,” I said to reassure my teacher, and slapped the bag with the valuables from the old Tower of the Order inside it. “Yesterday evening, while I was waiting for you.”

“Thanks be to Sagot.” For sighed in genuine relief, and then he peered at me and asked: “How did you manage to open the safe?”

“Very easily, but apparently not as easily as your uninvited guests. I think they found it and opened it far more quickly, only they didn’t find what they were looking for.”

For shook his head.

“And since when have members of the Guild of Murderers gone in for theft? And where did they get the courage to attack priests in the sanctuary of their god?”

“For, I’m not sure that these men were from the guild. The murderers don’t usually work like that. And you’ve always been on good terms with the guild; Urgez wouldn’t be likely to send his lads here. No, this is someone else.”

“The Master again?” For quipped acidly, taking out a bottle of wine. We both definitely needed a drink.

“Anything’s possible.”

“How did it all go?”

“You mean my little problem with the Horse?”

“Well, yes,” said For, taking a swig of wine from a beer glass.

All his wineglasses had been broken in the battle with the unknown killers, and he was obliged to pour the beverage of the gods into vessels not intended for that purpose.

I told him.

“Hm, you managed to break Borg’s link by the most elementary method of setting all the sides against each other. Clever, but not new by any means. Well, that’s just an old man’s grousing. Pay no attention, kid. The only thing that really bothers me is that Markun and his gang and that Paleface of yours . . . what’s his name?”

“Rolio.”

“Rolio, Rolio . . . ,” For repeated, as if he were savoring the taste of the word. “I’ve never heard the name before. He’s definitely not from Avendoom. Now what was I saying. Aha! Yes, they also serve this Master. Whichever way you turn, everybody’s his servant.”

“Well, Markun won’t be serving anybody anymore,” I laughed.

I didn’t feel at all sorry for the fat thief who had been killed by Vukhdjaaz.

“No, Markun won’t. And I hope that now his place in the guild will be taken by someone more worthy and it will become what it used to be in the days of my youth. But this Rolio’s never going to let you be. Markun is dead, but he wasn’t the one who gave the murderer his Commission, it was some influential servant of the Master, and that means you’d better watch out for your head.”

“I will,” I agreed. “But anyway, I came to say good-bye. I have to go to see the king, and then set out.”

“Only don’t go at this time in the morning! Everyone at court is asleep, and there’s certainly no one expecting you there. Better take a rest, Harold, you look to me as if you’ve been used as

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