Free And Night Descends (The Third Book of the Small Gods Series) by Bruce Blake Page B

Still, having a sense of their location eased his nerves, if only a little.
    They went left twice more, then right. The faint scent of fish grew to a stinking assault on Stirk’s nostrils, salty sea water joining it and the odor of the docks. Periodically, he detected another aroma buried beneath the others, a sickly sweet odor surfacing occasionally as though carried upon a breeze. He didn’t recognize it, but neither did he think he wanted to.
    At an intersection where three streets came together, Enin stopped. Stirk halted beside him and followed the horse doctor’s gaze as the tall man looked first along one street, then the next, and the next. A flash of worry burst inside Stirk.
    He doesn’t know where to go.
    In an instant, he imagined the one-armed soldier and his companion getting away from him. He imagined them on horseback, riding for the setting sun, a cloud of dust kicked up by the hooves of their destriers, and himself with no way to follow. The image brought anger with it, and he spun toward the horse doctor, readying to unleash it upon him.
    Down the street to Stirk’s right, a movement caught his attention, interrupting him. He faced it, listening to the scrape of something hard dragging on the cracked cobblestone street followed by the squelch of something wet.
    “Who’s there?” he called, redirecting his ire.
    The words had barely left his mouth when the horse doctor’s hand touched his arm.
    “Quiet,” he said, desperate force punctuating the whispered word.
    Stirk held his breath and waited. He wiped his sweaty palm on the front of his thigh, the half-moon shaped wounds caused by his fingernails stinging. Enough time passed Stirk needed to release the air from his burning lungs and draw more. Enin spoke right after, as though he’d been waiting for his breath.
    “This way.”
    He spun on his heel and headed down a street away from the noise they’d heard. Stirk hesitated an instant before following and found himself glad they’d chosen not to go the other way. Despite his anger, he decided he didn’t want to find out what made those sounds.
    They went one more block before taking a right into a narrow alley, wide enough for the two of them to walk abreast if they didn’t mind brushing shoulders. Stirk did, so he stayed a pace behind his manure-perfumed guide.
    After thirty paces, the alley widened to a courtyard which led to a single-storey building with a low, flat roof, no windows, and nothing to set it apart from any other buildings they’d passed on their journey.
    “This it?”
    “It is.”
    Stirk stepped past Enin and squinted at the structure, attempting to find some distinctive feature about it to indicate what and who lay within, but he found nothing. He wasn’t certain what he’d expected from a place housing one—perhaps more than one—like the healer who’d taken his hand, but this wasn’t it. He’d realized it wouldn’t be a palace, especially in this part of the city, but shouldn’t they find a hint at what dwelled inside?
    “Are you sure this is it?” He faced his guide. “If you’ve led me…”
    The remaining words poised on his tongue teetered for an instant then tumbled down his throat on a gulp of saliva.
    The alley lay empty behind him.
    “Enin?”
    He took a step back toward the alley, stopped.
    Where did he go?
    He stared along the narrow passage, searching in the night that was dark enough to hide a man’s features, but not enough to make him disappear. They’d passed no doors in the alley the horse doctor might have slipped into, nor had he heard telltale footsteps as he made a retreat.
    He disappeared.
    Stirk’s eyes widened. A chill found its way along his spine.
    I’m alone.
    The muscles in his arms and legs tightened into knots, holding him in place as his gaze darted side to side, up and down. The dark hid all but shapes from him, the buildings transformed to black blocks against the night sky. He shivered. A rustle of cloth behind him