The next step was parties of soldiers stopping in at taverns where Blade might be having a meal. They yelled curses, bullied the servants, broke furniture, threw cups and plates around, drove off the other customers, and generally made nuisances of themselves and a mess of the place.
The climax came when twelve soldiers stormed into a tavern where Blade was sipping wine and filling himself with fish and porridge. They upset the stove.
They broke all the wine jugs and poured the wine on the hot coals. They slashed the scrolls on the walls with their swords. They knocked the tavernkeeper down and kicked him in the stomach and ribs until he was writhing and coughing blood. They snatched his daughter from where she cowered in a back room and threw her down on the mats. Then all twelve of them raped her there on the floor. Her screams drew an angry crowd. The crowd swiftly drew more soldiers, too many for Blade to fight. He suspected also that if he fought anyway, the soldiers would massacre everybody in the crowd. Although he was white and shaking with rage, he couldn't see what else there was to do but quietly slip away.
Word of the incident spread rapidly. Within a few days Blade found that he was no longer welcome in most shops and taverns in Deyun. People did not hate him-their voices shook with rage when they mentioned the Hongshu. But they turned him away nonetheless.
Blade found himself having to offer to work for his keep. But no one dared to risk hiring him as a guard or a house servant. Those who hired him for menial jobs knew that he was desperate, and paid him as little as they dared. Sometimes his pay for a day's hard work was nothing more than a bowl of porridge and a few sour vegetables.
After a few days of this Blade was about ready to leave Deyun behind and head out into the country again. If he stayed in the city and refused to join the Hongshu's service, sooner or later he would starve or have to turn thief. He might still have to turn bandit out in the country. But at least there he would be farther from the Hongshu's soldiers, and so have a better chance to return safely to home dimension. That was about all he could hope for now. The trip to Gaikon had been a waste almost from first to last.
He decided to wait one more day, then head for the country. Then he rose and went out into the morning.
He was walking along a street about a mile from the Warm Gates quarter when he heard harsh, angry voices from ahead. They came from a small alley off to the right. Blade quickened his step, but did not draw his sword or unsling his spear-yet.
A few steps took him to the entrance to the alley. A middle-aged woman in peasant clothing was backed against the sooty timbers of one side of the alley. At her feet lay a large bundle of rushes. She was holding out both hands in front of her, trying to fend off four soldiers who were trying to push her back against the wall and clutch at her trousers.
Blade's temper flared. He had been willing to put up with a lot from the Hongshu's soldiers as long as he had some good reason. But now he could leave Deyun any time he wanted to. Why not do something about at least a few of those swaggering thugs before he left?
Why not indeed?
Blade swung his spear off his shoulder, grasped it with both hands, and stepped forward into the alley. His voice boomed out. «Stop that, you vomit-weaned sons of diseased pigs!»
The soldiers turned to stare at Blade. So did the woman. Then Blade stopped for a moment to stare at her. The long straight nose, the small firm chin, the thinly disguised pattern of scars on the right side of her face-he recognized them all.
It was Lady Musura.
Chapter 17
In the same moment, Lady Musura recognized Blade. The knowledge that she had an ally seemed to pull a trigger in her. She exploded into savage action. A foot shot up and out, into one soldier's unprotected groin. He screamed and reeled back, bumping into one of his comrades. The two men became tangled for a moment, leaving an opening in the half-circle around the jinai woman. She leaped high, flipping head over heels in midair, drawing a knife as she flew and landing beside Blade, facing the other two soldiers.
One of them drew his sword and charged, mindlessly, like a wild boar. Blade's spear point drove into the wrist of the man's sword hand, tearing flesh, smashing bone apart. A flick of Blade's wrist shifted the spear, sending it into the man's throat.
The other soldier came on in a crouch. Blade's arms jerked and the spear shaft smashed into the side of the man's neck. He reeled and crumpled forward onto his knees. Lady Musura darted in and both her hands slashed in under his jaw. His breath became a choked gurgle as bone fragments clogged his throat, and he collapsed.
By this time the third soldier had decided to throw courage to the winds. He dropped his spear and took to his heels. The soldier Lady Musura had kicked in the grain took off after him, but he was too bent over with pain to get out of range in time. The lady's knife sang through the air and into the back of the soldier's neck. He sprawled full length on the smelly cobblestones of the alley.
Blade leaped forward over the dying men and snatched up the fallen spear: One rule he always followed in a fight: never miss a chance to pick up a spare weapon. As he slung it over his shoulder, Lady Musura grabbed at his sleeve and stared up into his face. Her eyes were wide and her face pale under its tan and grime, but her voice was as steady as ever.
«Blade, I thank you. But it would have been wiser not to do this.»
«Maybe. But I was tired of those damned soldiers pushing me and everybody else around.»
«A good thought, but perhaps better for some other time and place. Now we must flee.»
«I was leaving the city anyway, tomorrow. We can-«
The distant but angry booming of a gong interrupted Blade. He frowned. «An alarm? So soon?»
«Yes. We have no hope of leaving the city now or for many days. We must flee to the quarter of the Warm Gates. The courtesans there are always searching for people to guard their houses, and no one would turn us over to the Hongshu's soldiers.»
«Not if they could help it. But if the Hongshu has fifty thousand soldiers in Deyun-«
«He will not dare send one of them through the Warm Gates without the leave of the courtesans. Interrupt the business of that quarter for even a single night, and there will be rioting and burning enough to make even the Hongshu uncertain on his throne. Besides, there are a few of the ladies and masters in that quarter who owe me favors from years past. They would hide us no matter what.»
The sound of the gongs was mixing with angry shouts as they stepped out of the alley into the open street. In spite of this, they walked as slowly as possible, trying to look like peaceful citizens going about their business.
The disguise gained them a few valuable minutes, as they made their way slowly through the tangle of streets toward the Warm Gates. Several parties of soldiers pounded past at a run, shoving citizens up against walls and into doorways, upsetting stands and carts, knocking peddlers off their feet. Blade even stopped once to help a fish peddler pick up his baskets and listen to him roundly cursing the soldiers.
They covered more than half the distance to the Warm Gates in less than ten minutes. But then the streets began to narrow. The crowds grew thicker and harder to push through. Several times they had to cut through dark, narrow, foul-smelling alleys, stumbling over rotten vegetables, slimy mud puddles, long-dead cats and dogs.
Their luck ran out as they came out of their fourth alley, not more than a hundred yards from the Warm Gates. Between them and the gates a line of soldiers blocked the street as solidly as a wall. The sun glinted on their armor, and above them sprouted a forest of spearpoints and helmet spikes and horns. Blade froze and tried to fade back into the darkness of the alley. Before he could do so, someone in the line of soldiers shouted: