House of Chains

‘Will you shut up with that! Pity the poor bastard he’s looking for in the 5th!’



Maybe suddenly grinned. ‘Hey, you just fooled a real live Claw with that damned illusion! Nice work!’



‘You ain’t the only one feeling sick,’ Balgrid muttered.



Thirty paces took Lostara and Pearl across the compound to the stables.



‘That was amusing,’ said the man at her side.



‘And what was the point?’



‘Oh, just to see them sweat.’



‘Them?’



‘The man and the bale, of course. Well, here we are.’ As she reached to draw back one of the broad doors, Pearl closed a hand on her wrist. ‘In a moment. Now, there’s actually more than one person within that we need to question. A couple of veterans-leave them to me. There’s also a lad, was a guard at a mining camp. Work your charms on him while I’m talking with the other two.’



Lostara stared at him. ‘My charms,’ she said, deadpan.



Pearl grinned. ‘Aye, and if you leave him smitten, well, consider it a future investment in case we need the lad later.’



‘I see.’



She opened the door, stepping back to let Pearl precede her. The air within the stables was foul. Urine, sweat, honing oil and wet straw. Soldiers were everywhere, lying or sitting on beds or on items from a collection of ornate furniture that had come from the main house. There was little in the way of conversation, and even that fell away as heads turned towards the two strangers.



‘Thank you,’ Pearl drawled, ‘for your attention. I would speak with Sergeant Gesler and Corporal Stormy…’



‘I’m Gesler,’ a solid-looking, bronze-skinned man said from where he sprawled on a plush couch. ‘The one snoring under those silks is Stormy. And if you come from Oblat tell him we’ll pay up… eventually.’



Smiling, Pearl gestured at Lostara to follow and strode up to the sergeant. ‘I am not here to call in your debts. Rather, I would like to speak with you in private… concerning your recent adventures.’



‘Is that right. And who in Fener’s hoofprint are you?’



‘This is an imperial matter,’ Pearl said, his gaze falling to Stormy. ‘Will you wake him or shall I? Further, my companion wishes to speak with the soldier named Pella.’



Gesler’s grin was cool. ‘You want to wake my corporal? Go right ahead. As for Pella, he’s not here at the moment.’



Pearl sighed and stepped to the side of the bed. A moment’s study of the heap of expensive silks burying the snoring corporal, then the Claw reached down and flung the coverings clear.



The hand that snapped to Pearl’s right shin-halfway between knee and ankle-was large enough to almost close entirely around the limb. The surge that followed left Lostara gaping.



Up. Pearl yelling. Up, as Stormy reared from the bed like a bear prodded from its hibernation, a roar rolling from his lungs.



Had the chamber contained a ceiling of normal height-rather than a few simple crossbeams spanning the space beneath the stable roof, none of which were, mercifully, directly overhead-Pearl would have struck it, and hard, as he was lifted into the air by that single hand clasped around his shin. Lifted, then thrown.



The Claw cavorted, arms flailing, his knees shooting up over his head, spinning, legs kicking free as Stormy’s hand let go. He came down hard on one shoulder, the breath leaving his lungs in a grunting whoosh. He lay unmoving, drawing his legs up, in increments, into a curled position.



The corporal was standing now, shaggy-haired, his red beard in wild disarray, the oblivion of sleep vanishing from his eyes like pine needles in a fire-a fire that was quickly flaring into a rage. ‘I said no-one wakes me!’ he bellowed, huge hands held out to either side and clutching at the air, as if eager to close on offending throats. His bright blue eyes fixed suddenly on Pearl, who was only now moving onto his hands and knees, his head hanging low. ‘Is this the bastard?’ Stormy asked, taking a step closer.



Lostara blocked his path. Grunting, Stormy halted.



‘Leave them be, Corporal,’ Gesler said from the couch. ‘That fop you just tossed is a Claw. And a sharper look at that woman in front of you will tell you she’s a Red Blade, or was, and can likely defend herself just fine. No need to get into a brawl over lost sleep.’



Pearl was climbing to his feet, massaging his shoulder, his breaths deep and shuddering.



Hand on the pommel of her sword, Lostara stared steadily into Stormy’s eyes. ‘We were wondering,’ she said conversationally, ‘which of you is the better story-teller. My companion here would like to hear a tale. Of course, there will be payment for the privilege. Perhaps your debts to this Oblat can be… taken care of, as a show of our appreciation.’