"A murder in Marienburg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bishop David)

CHAPTER FOUR

The boatman licked his lips nervously as he guided the narrow craft into the cut separating Riddra and Stoessel. Marcellus Punt had no wish to pass under Three Penny Bridge-you never knew what might happen to anyone who went near that benighted span-but he was being paid handsomely to do so. Besides it was the nature of his passenger that was perturbing the boatman. “If I’d known what you were, I’d never have taken the fare,” he grumbled for the fifth time of asking, not that his passenger had asked. “All I got told was your name, Otto. They never said you were one of… them.”

The passenger sat at the other end of the tiny vessel, a hood drawn up over his hairless head, thin fingers clasped in front of his haughty, patrician features. “So you have said,” Otto replied. “Several times.”

“Well, it ain’t right, is it? False defences or some such.”

“I take it you mean false pretences.”

“That’s the one! False pretences, that’s what it is.”

“I make no pretence about my vocation when I asked your employer, Mr. Undershaft, to organise transportation for me back to my abode. If he chose not to tell you about me, that was his decision.”

“Well, it still ain’t right. Ain’t proper. You should have your own boat to do your business in. Not frightening the life out of poor, innocent working souls who are just trying to earn a crust.”

Otto glared at the boatman, as if staring into his very soul. “I sense you are many things, Punt, but innocent is not one of them. You have the blood of three men on your conscience.”

“You can’t tell that, not just by looking at me!” the boatman howled, his fears about the Three Penny Bridge quite forgotten as they passed beneath it. “Besides, there was only two of them and they both had it coming. Most people would consider what I did a proper justice, that’s all.”

“Tell yourself that all you want. The truth will come out,” Otto replied. His eyes were drawn to a sudden movement above the boatman. A large leaded window on the southern side on the bridge exploded outwards, thousands of glass shards tumbling through the air, accompanied by the falling figure of a man. He plunged towards the boat and clattered into Punt’s back, sending the boatman sprawling into the cut. The fallen man landed nimbly on his feet, glass still raining down around him. Otto arched an eyebrow at the new arrival. “If you’re trying to make a strong first impression, you’ve succeeded.”

“I was trying to stay alive. Everything after that’s a bonus. The name’s Schnell, Kurt Schnell. I’m the new watch captain for Three Penny Bridge.”

Otto pointed up at the shattered window of the tavern, where a handful of men were shouting abuse and making obscene gestures at Kurt. “Not quite established your authority yet, I notice.”

Kurt grinned and offered a hand of friendship to Otto. “You must be the local Priest of Morr.”

“I don’t usually touch the living,” Otto replied.

Kurt withdrew his hand. “Of course-but you have a name, haven’t you?”

“Otto.”

“Then I am in your debt, Otto. Landing in your boat saved me the embarrassment of drowning.”

“You live in Marienburg, a city surrounded in all ways by water, and you can’t swim?”

Kurt shrugged. “Not much call for it where I came from.”

Otto frowned, before plunging his right hand into the water beside the boat. After feeling around underwater for several seconds, he pulled Punt’s head above the surface. The boatman gasped and gurgled, murky water gushing from his mouth. “It seems my pilot is equally unskilled in matters aquatic. Perhaps you could help me get him back on board, since it was your arrival that pitched him into the water?” Together Otto and Kurt managed to manhandle Punt back into the boat, the boatman protesting all the way. Otto navigated the vessel to the nearest mooring, beside a stone staircase that led up from the cut on the Stoessel side of the water. Kurt was first onto dry land, followed by Otto. Punt opted to stay in his boat.

“Much as I hate the water, I’d rather be nearly half-drowned in it than spend another minute in your company,” he told the priest. “No offence, mind.”

Otto turned away and marched up the stairs, all too used to the fearful reactions his presence brought among those unused to being around the dead and the dying. Kurt followed him until they emerged on to a minor passageway near the Three Penny Bridge. At the top of the stone steps, Kurt put a hand on the priest’s shoulder, to stop him moving away. “Your temple-is it far from here?”

“It’s along this alleyway, less than a hundred paces from the bridge. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to come and see you there.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed. “Few enter a Temple of Morr willingly, even in times of necessity. Why should you wish to visit me?”

Kurt smiled. “Let’s say I have a proposition for you. But first I’ve got a crowd to control.” He marched away, towards Three Penny Bridge. Otto watched him go, intrigued by the new arrival. Kurt Schnell was either the bravest of men, or the most foolish-time would reveal which was the more accurate description. But the priest was more interested by the newcomer’s presence. Schnell was a man steeped in blood, with the lives and deaths of many borne on his shoulders. Death followed him, a spectre waiting for the next corpse to fall, the next soul to be claimed. Otto grimaced. He would be busy in the days to come. Kurt strode back to Three Penny Bridge to find Scheusal slumped on the cobbles and a battered, bleeding Narbig kneeling beside two unconscious thugs from the tavern. Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries like mocking laughter to Kurt’s ears. The rest of the watchmen were standing around laughing and sniggering their voices echoing the sound of the gulls. Kurt got his recruits’ attention by picking up one of the senseless thugs and returning him to the Abandon Hope Tavern, propelling the body back through the entrance at indecent speed. “Who can tell me what just happened?” Kurt asked once his men were listening.

“You got seven kinds of snot kicked out of you,” Bescheiden sneered triumphantly.

“Exactly,” Kurt agreed, enjoying the look of surprise on the craven coward’s face. “That’s what happens unless we work as a team, supporting one another. Together we can reclaim this place for the decent people of Marienburg. But if we stand divided, we’ll be crushed.”

Raufbold stepped boldly forward from among the other watchmen, his usual cocky arrogance having recovered from the earlier humiliation. “I thought we were supposed to watch and learn. All we saw was you being made a fool, forced to jump out a window to save your sorry neck.”

Kurt bit his tongue to stop himself replying harshly, knowing his accuser was right, no matter how painful that realisation might be. Hubris was never easy to accept, but Kurt was determined not to let the others see how much his pride had been hurt, how much his confidence had been shaken. He needed help and advice, someone he already trusted to help him win round this motley collection of reprobates-and he knew exactly where to find that someone. “I promise you all this: before the end of the day, that building will be a watch station once more.” Again they laughed at him, jeering at his boastful words. Kurt let them laugh, waiting for their hilarity to fade before speaking once more. “I’m going to get help. Until I return, I want you all to remain here and make sure none of the people inside the tavern leave. They must be held accountable for their actions in attacking members of the watch. An example needs to be made of them.”

“Why in the name of Sigmar’s sausage should we stay?” Bescheiden demanded.

Kurt smiled. “If any of you is missing when I return, you’ll be charged with desertion of duty and sentenced to twenty-eight days on Rijker’s Isle-and you all know how the inmates there like to treat convicted members of the watch, don’t you?” The men grumbled and muttered under their breath. Watchmen were considered fair game on Rijker’s Isle, guards looking the other way when the inmates gathered to extract some measure of vengeance for having been jailed by the Black Caps. Again, Kurt waited for silence before continuing. “I was promised my recruits would be the best of the best Marienburg has to offer, but it looks like I’ve been sent the worst of the worst. Other stations have dumped you here with me, so we’re stuck with each other. Either we make this work, or else we all suffer the consequences. Think about that while I’m gone.” Jan Woxholt was enjoying his third ale of the afternoon when Kurt strode into the Dancing Pirate. The warm, well-kept tavern was popular with halflings from nearby Kleinmoot ward, making the big, blond and bearded figure at the rear of the taproom all the more obvious. Kurt strode across the half-empty tavern and stood in front of Jan’s table. “Still drinking Hoornweg’s Old Inscrutable, I see.”

“How did you…?”

Kurt ran a finger across his top lip. “The ale stains the bottom of your moustache black.”

Jan wiped his whiskers dry with the back of one hand, while offering the other in friendship. Kurt shook it gratefully and sat down opposite him. “I hear you’ve gone up in the world,” Jan said. “Watch captain, no less-and given your own station, too.”

“How did you-” Kurt began.

“I notice things too,” Jan interrupted. “And I hear more. You were a fool to take the job.”

“It’s the chance of a lifetime-”

“It’s a chance to get yourself killed,” Jan insisted, “you and anybody else stupid enough to get involved. Everyone knows Three Penny Bridge station is cursed, Kurt. You may not believe in such things, but I do. I knew the last captain there, Joost Holismus-he was a good man, until Chaos claimed him, one of the best thief-takers in all of Marienburg. Don’t let that place claim you, too.”

Kurt smiled. “I take it that’s a roundabout way of saying you won’t help me.”

Jan took a deep drink from his tankard. “You haven’t asked me yet.”

“Will you help?”

Jan drained his tankard dry and stood up, getting ready to leave. “I’m sorry, Kurt-really, I am.”

Kurt grabbed Jan’s right wrist. “Why? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything. You saved me from myself more times than I can remember when I first joined the Watch. Without you, I’d never have survived a week in this city. I need your help again, Jan.”

“I’m retired,” the big man said quietly. “Those days are behind me.”

“They don’t have to be-”

“I’m scared!” Jan hissed, ripping his arm free of Kurt’s grasp. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m scared of that place-and you should be too. I’m one of the few men in the Watch who has stayed alive long enough to retire. I saved sufficient coins to keep me in ale and sausages for a good few years yet-more than long enough. All I want is a quiet life, Kurt. Can’t you leave me be, let me enjoy my last days in peace?”

Kurt stood, moving to block his old friend’s exit. “Is that what you want? Truly?”

Jan couldn’t meet his gaze. “It will have to do.”

“It doesn’t need to,” Kurt insisted. “I’m offering you the chance to make a difference, to change the way things are in this city for the better. Isn’t that worth the risk?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Then make me understand!”

“I can’t.” Jan folded his beefy arms and glared at his former protйgй. “Now, are you going to let me pass, or do I have to pitch you out of a window into the canal?”

Kurt couldn’t help smiling. “You heard about that too?”

“I told you-I notice things, and I hear more.” Jan stepped closer, his face like stone. “Well?”

Kurt stared into his friend’s eyes, searching for answers. “I can’t believe you won’t help.”

“If it was any other place in the city, I would-but not there. Not now.” Jan sighed. “You’d be better off rejoining the army than trying to reclaim Three Penny Bridge.”

“I can’t do that, and I can’t go home to Altdorf either-not without proving myself here first. This is my chance to do that,” Kurt said.

“Then you haven’t got much choice, have you? You’ll have to find a way of drinking from this poisoned chalice the commander has given you-but you’ll have to do it without me.”

“I never thought I’d see you like this, Jan-never thought you’d be afraid of anything. I guess I was wrong.” Kurt stood aside to let his friend pass, but called out as Jan reached the tavern door. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be, don’t you?” The burly blond man paused, but did not reply before marching out of the taproom, the heavy door swinging shut behind him. As Kurt strode back to Three Penny Bridge, he went over and over the conversation with Jan in his mind. The retired sergeant had the stamina of a bull and a physique to match the strongest of stevedores, along with a beguiling honesty and rare courage. I could have done with a few more men like him at my side in the army, Kurt had often thought. How dearly he wished Jan would join him at the new station. He hadn’t realised how much he missed their conversations, the presence of the big man at his side, two friends shoulder to shoulder against all ills and evils. Taking back Three Penny Bridge would be challenge enough with Jan as his right-hand man. Without Jan, Kurt doubted he had any chance of succeeding as acting captain. It was enough to drive any man to drink, but that was how he’d ended up in Marienburg, a drunken wreck with a one-way ticket to the end of the Reik.

Kurt was accosted by a hefty woman while he marched across Stoessel. She stepped into his path, her considerable bulk blocking the passageway. “I need to make a confession,” the wide-hipped woman whispered.

“Find yourself a priest.”

“I need to confess a crime,” she insisted, her eyes glancing up at his black cap.

“Fine,” Kurt said, folding his arms impatiently. “What’s your name?”

“Gerta Gestehen.”

“And what crime did you commit?”

“Theft. I picked the pocket of an important citizen.”

Kurt looked her up and down, deciding she was the least likely pickpocket he’d ever encountered. There was more to this woman than met the eye-a lot more, judging by her size. “What did you steal?”

Gerta stared at him as if he was mad. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

“You want to confess a crime, but you don’t want to tell me the details?” Kurt frowned. Something was nagging at the back of his thoughts. He knew he’d never met this woman before, but she seemed all too familiar. “Have you got someone who can speak on your behalf? A husband, perhaps?”

“My Engelbert’s still on Rijker’s Isle, where people like you sent him so unjustly three years ago. But Engelbert is not my husband, he’s my lover.”

“I see. So, whose pocket did you pick, precisely?”

“I didn’t ask his name, but he had pointy ears, long blond hair and thin, delicate features.”

“Sounds like an elf.”

Gerta smiled. She moved closer, so her magnificent bosom pressed against Kurt. “If I stole from an elf, would that get me sent to Rijker’s Isle too? Perhaps I could share a cell with Engelbert.”

Kurt sighed in exasperation as realisation struck home. “What did you say your name was?”

“Gerta-Gerta Gestehen.”

“Also known as Gerta the Blurter?”

The obese woman took a step back, her face stricken with horror. “I resent that name, and all it implies! I’ve never made a false confession in my life!”

Kurt rolled his eyes. Gerta was all but a legend among the Black Caps, a serial confessor who would claim the blame for almost any crime in the vain hope it would get her reunited with her alleged lover. “Confessing to picking the pocket of an elf-isn’t that going over the top, even for you, Gerta?”

She scowled at him. “You’re saying you don’t believe me?”

“I’m saying you’re wasting my time. Waste any more of it and-”

“You’ll send me to Rijker’s?” she panted, her eyes lighting up.

“-and I’ll have you spend next Marktag in the stocks outside the Suiddock fish market. Got it?”

“But I don’t like fish,” Gerta protested.

“All the more reason to stay away from me,” Kurt snapped. “Now, move!” He pushed past the still protesting woman, ignoring her cries for attention.

“But I can even describe what the elf was wearing,” Gerta called after him. “He had a deep green tunic, and his skin was like alabaster. I heard him whispering something under his breath!”

Kurt kept going, eager to get away from her deranged rantings. He was still fuming when he strode straight into Bescheiden, a few streets from Three Penny Bridge. “You’ll pay tuppence and a sword for leaving your post,” Kurt promised, “unless you’ve a good explanation.”

The weasel-faced man blanched at the threat, but stood his ground. “I came looking for you. A body’s been found near the bridge, half in and half out of the Bruynwarr.”

“So? Floaters turn up all the time in this city,” Kurt sighed. “Families too cheap or too poor to pay for a mausoleum plot wait until dark, before lobbing the dearly departed off one of the bridges.”

Bescheiden nodded. “Yes, but this one’s an elf-high born, from the sounds of it, important. He’s been murdered and he didn’t go quietly, according to what people are saying.”

“An elf?” Kurt’s mind rebelled at the coincidence. “Do you know what clothes he was wearing?”

“A deep green tunic, I think.”

Kurt closed his eyes and ran a rough hand across the stubble on his jaw line. So, Gerta’s unlikely tale might have actually had some tiny fraction of truth hidden buried within her delusions and lies. It was doubtful she had slain the elf, but the serial confessor might have seen who did-and Kurt had just ignored her wild claims. This day was going from bad to worse, and far too quickly for his liking. The humiliation at headquarters, having to take evasive action to survive his foolhardy attempt at reclaiming the station and Jan’s refusal to help-now this. Elves had their own enclave within Marienburg and stayed there whenever possible, not mixing with the humans, halflings and other races found on the city’s streets and waterways. Seeing an elf outside their quarter was a rarity. Most citizens of Marienburg could go their whole lives without catching sight of one.

Little was known about the elves, beyond the fact they were long-lived and had abilities beyond those of mortal men. The murder of an elf was all but unheard of, and certainly had not happened outside the walls of the elf quarter during Kurt’s time in Marienburg. Such a crime would doubtless create a political firestorm among the city’s ruling elite and no end of trouble for everyone involved, until the culprit was found and delivered to the elves for punishment. There was only one thing that could yet rescue this situation for Kurt. “The body-where was it found?”

“Riddra, at the bottom of the steps between the Gentlemen’s Club and the Stevedores and Teamsters’ Guild headquarters,” Bescheiden replied.

“I meant was it in the water or out of the water?” There was a strict jurisdictional distinction between crimes committed on the water and those not. The former were known as wet crimes and got handled by the River Watch, while the latter-dry crimes-were the Black Caps’ responsibility. If at least half the elf’s body had been in the Bruynwarr when first discovered, Kurt and his men could avoid the thankless task of trying to find out who had dared to kill the victim.

Bescheiden shook his head. “Sorry, captain-he only had one foot in the water.” Kurt spat out a curse so vile it made his watchman take a step backwards. Bescheiden grinned. “And you thought you had trouble before, eh? The commander’s cronies will be all over this like Fen Loonies on a boatload of lost travellers.”

“Sounds like you need some help,” a familiar voice boomed from behind Kurt. He turned to see Jan strolling towards him, wearing the black cap of a watchman. The rest of his garb was not so well fitting, the tunic straining to encompass Jan’s broad chest and broader belly. Kurt couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend, back in uniform once more. He embraced Jan warmly, clapping him on the back.

“I thought you were retired?”

Jan shrugged. “Much as I love drinking in the Dancing Pirate, the company of halflings and half-wits is not enough to pass the time, even for someone so easily amused as me. Besides, we’ve all got to die of something, yes? It might as well be stopping you getting yourself killed.”

“None of my men are getting killed on Three Penny Bridge,” Kurt vowed.

A shadow passed over Jan’s face. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He noticed the craven presence of Bescheiden lurking nearby. “This one of your men, is it?”

Kurt nodded and rolled his eyes. “Wait until you meet the rest.”

Jan laughed. “Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it Kurt? Or should I call you sir now?”

“Captain will do fine.”

“Captain it is. Now, what’s this I hear about a murdered elf on your territory?”

“How did you-” Bescheiden began.

“Don’t even bother asking,” Kurt said, cutting him short. “Sergeant Woxholt has the best network of informants in all of Marienburg, isn’t that right?”

Jan shrugged. “Live here long enough, you know everything and everyone. What’s first, captain?”

“Bescheiden, I want you to find Gerta Gestehen and bring her to the station-she may have seen who killed the elf, or at least witnessed the body being dumped.” The small man nodded and hurried away.

“You can’t trust a word she says,” Jan warned.

“Perhaps not, but if she does know anything about the murderer, that makes her a target too. The dead elf can wait for the moment-barring a miracle cure or magical intervention, I doubt he’s going anywhere anytime soon,” Kurt said. “We need to reclaim our station before we start solving murders.” Martin Faulheit was one of the laziest men in Marienburg. He had joined the Black Caps because it seemed to offer the best pay for the least amount of work or responsibility. He had slouched from one station to another, doing just enough to keep his uniform but never any more. Asked to work a moment longer than his shift and it was probably more than Faulheit’s job was worth. Ask him to risk danger, dismemberment or death, and that was definitely more than his job was worth. His apathetic attitude extended to his personal appearance too: receding hair scraped over a balding pate with a handful of goose grease, a paunch built by excesses of eating and ale that slumped over the waist-belt of his rarely washed uniform, and breath that stank worse than any canal at low tide, because he couldn’t be bothered to clean his teeth. The sole reason Faulheit sported a beard and moustache was it saved him the effort of shaving. He wasn’t actively corrupt-he wasn’t actively anything, except lazy-but Faulheit was willing to take a bribe if it saved him from having to arrest anyone or put himself in any danger.

In all his time with the Black Caps, only one man had ever managed to frighten Faulheit into an honest day’s work. When that man appeared on Three Penny Bridge with the new captain, the pair of them acting like old friends, Faulheit felt his heart sinking lower than any catacomb in the city. “Taal’s teeth!” he hissed, panic spreading across his ugly features. “Not him! Not here!”

Raufbold was preening nearby, but still noticed the consternation. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Sergeant Woxholt,” Faulheit replied. “Our glorious leader’s gone and got Sergeant Woxholt.”

The colour drained from the cocksure face of Raufbold. “But he’s retired-I heard he’d retired.”

“Looks like he’s retired from being retired.”

Raufbold spat out a colourful curse before snapping to attention. The other watchmen all laughed at his sudden change in attitude-until they saw Woxholt approaching. One by one, they assumed the same upright stance, even Faulheit. When the captain and his sergeant reached them on the centre of the bridge, all the Black Caps were in line, their uniforms straightened, their attitudes all but unrecognisable.

“I think they saw you coming,” Kurt said, smiling broadly. “They must recognise you, Jan!”

Faulheit felt the sergeant’s eyes sweeping across the gathering piercing as the beam from a lighthouse on a moonless night. The flabby watchman closed his eyes, trying to wish himself invisible, but it did no good. Woxholt spotted him and laughed uproariously.

“Faulheit! Faulheit, is that you?” the big man’s voice boomed.

“Answer the sergeant,” Kurt commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Faulheit said, his voice little more than a whisper.

“What was that, Faulheit? My hearing’s not as good as it used to be,” Woxholt bellowed.

“Yes, sir!”

Woxholt moved closer to his target, a grim smirk of satisfaction on his features. “What did you call me, Faulheit, you disgusting worm of a man?”

“Sir. I called you sir, sir.” Faulheit found himself snapping into a salute for no explicable reason.

“I’m not a sir, I’m a sergeant!” Woxholt roared, his voice like a blast of hot wind as the words passed the fat watchman’s face, blowing the greasy bangs back from his eyes. “You can call Captain Schnell sir, if that’s what he wants, but you call me sergeant! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sergeant,” Faulheit whimpered.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, sergeant!”

“That’s better.” Woxholt slowly marched back and forth along the assembled line of watchmen, sighing and shaking his head sadly. “Dear, oh dear, oh dear. What have we got here? Probably the worst selection of miscreants and maladjusted wastrels ever to disgrace the uniform of the watch! Would-be heroes, sallow-faced freaks, blood-lusting bullies, bastards, backstabbers and lethargic lunatics-I doubt there’s one good watchman among the lot of you! Am I right?” None of the much berated band of men dared speak. “I asked you lot a question! Am I right about you?”

“Yes, sergeant,” a few of them replied, weakly.

“You’ll have to speak up!”

“Yes, sergeant!” They were bellowing as one now, even Faulheit finding his blood boiling with anger, a red mist of fury descending over his senses.

“That’s right. Now, I’m certain that all you deserve to be sent to this hole, but I’m just as certain that Captain Schnell doesn’t. He tried to set an example and most of you cowards didn’t have the guts to follow his lead. Well, this time you don’t have a choice. Together, we’re going into that tavern and we’re going to rid the place of every piece of scum inside who isn’t wearing the uniform of a Black Cap. Does anybody have any objections to that?”

Faulheit meekly raised his left hand. “Err, sergeant…?”

Woxholt snorted derisively before stomping across to him. “Yes? What is it?”

Now sweating like a stuck pig, Faulheit clutched at his heart. “I’m not feeling well. I think I need to see an apothecary, before my heart gives out completely.”

Woxholt grinned. “Is that a fact? Well, then there isn’t a moment to lose, is there? You can go.”

“You mean… I can leave?”

“Not exactly. You can go first-you can lead us into the tavern.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Didn’t want all the glory for yourself? Don’t worry, Faulheit, the others will be right behind you.”

Faulheit swallowed hard. I should know better than to open my mouth, he thought. It’s always more trouble than my job’s worth. By Manann, it was more trouble than my life’s worth.

“Off you go,” Woxholt said, gesturing towards the open doors of the former station on the opposite side of the bridge. “Show us how a real man marches towards near certain death.” Faulheit glanced beseechingly towards Captain Schnell, but found no sympathy there. Reluctantly pulling his club out of its sheath, the bloated Black Cap tiptoed towards the tavern. “Move!” Woxholt bellowed. “All of you, move!”

Faulheit heard someone else shouting a war cry as he charged in through the double doors. The strange thing was, he recognised the voice-it was his own. Kurt remained outside while Jan and the new recruits went into battle for possession of the Abandon Hope Tavern. After a few minutes of fists smacking against flesh, the sounds of furniture breaking and men crying out in pain, the sergeant reappeared, smiling broadly. “Shouldn’t be long now,” he reported. The unconscious body of Abram Cobbius came flying out of a first floor window and landed with a sickening thud on the cobbles. Scheusal leaned out the window from where Cobbius had departed and shook an angry fist down at the fallen figure. Kurt and Jan couldn’t help laughing at the spectacle.

“Of course, we loosened it for you,” Kurt said as the sounds of fighting slowly diminished.

“You loosened it?”

Kurt jerked a thumb towards the tavern. “Think of that place as a large jar of pickled herring that you can’t get the lid off. I loosened it by going in there earlier. Between us, Scheusal, Narbig and I took out most of the thugs inside. If we’d had a few more men backing us at the time, the job would’ve been done there and then. You and the new recruits had it easy this time. We loosened it for you.”

“If you say so, captain.”

Kurt clapped his friend on the back. “One question-when did your uniform get so tight?”

Jan shrugged. “Must have shrunk in the wash.”

“Must have done,” Kurt agreed. “Thank you for coming to help me.”

Jan’s smile faded. “Remember that, when this is over-when you know the price of my help.” Kurt was about to ask a question, but the sound of Faulheit screeching for help from inside the tavern took Jan’s attention. “Go and look at this murdered elf, while I help the men mop up inside. By the time you get back, we should have reclaimed the Three Penny Bridge station. That’s when our troubles really start.”