Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📗

‘All the same, you can’t jeopardise everything now.’

Corthie glanced up from lacing his boots and laughed. ‘Jeopardise it? The Ascendants have the Sextant; what else could go wrong?’

‘Alright, you win,’ said Van. ‘I’ll go out and buy some.’

‘Too late. I’m in the mood for going out now. You should be pleased. I must be getting better, if I feel up to a night out.’

‘You can’t go.’

‘Are you going to try to stop me? Will you wake up Sohul, and ask him to help? You know how that will end; I’m more than a match for both of you, even though I’m still sick.’

Corthie finished lacing up his boots and stood. ‘Coming?’

Van stared at him. ‘Don’t walk out that door, Corthie.’

He laughed, and strode for the entrance. Stomach cramps struck him as he moved, but they were mild in comparison to the ones he had been experiencing for so many days, and the vodka was helping to take the edge off them. He swayed a little, but kept going. Van cursed behind him, and he smiled as he reached the steps. The night sky was dark, and the stars were out. Corthie gazed up at them for a moment from the bottom of the stairs, then started to climb, breathing in the salty estuary air. Noises were coming from many of the other house boats berthed close by, and little lamps lit up their decks and filtered through the shutters of countless cabins. Corthie stepped onto the deck, and stretched his arms as if awakening.

‘You’re an asshole,’ said Van, coming up the steps next to him.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ said Corthie.

‘It is. Now, come on; let’s go back downstairs.’

‘No, I’m going out and that’s that. I can compromise, though. If you come along, then we can go somewhere that you know. That way, I won’t be wandering around aimlessly looking for a drink. You can pick where we go. You must know a few places.’

‘I’ve been out with the guys from work after a few shifts, but I’m not sure I should take you somewhere I might be known.’

‘Tell them that I’m an old friend from a Banner.’

‘I haven’t told any of them that I used to be in a Banner. It might not be the most popular move in these parts. The government of Kinell might love Implacatus, but not many of the locals do.’

Corthie started walking towards the pier. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

There was a narrow walkway connecting the river boat to the pier, and Corthie strode across it, his guts starting to churn. The alcohol in his brain was over-riding his anxiety, but he still felt it in the pit of his stomach. He reached the pier and turned for the long wharf, where the fish market was closed up for the night. At the end of the pier were stone steps cut into the side of the wharf, and he climbed them, then stood on the open street, the city of Kin Dai before him. He smiled. For forty days he had been stuck on the cramped boat, and he felt alive again. To the left, the harbour front was lit up with lanterns, and small alleyways stretched away from it, almost hidden between the high stone buildings. A noise was rising from that direction, a noise Corthie knew well. Taverns.

Van joined him on the wharf, a deep frown creasing his face.

‘Left sounds promising,’ said Corthie.

‘There are a lot of sailors’ bars that way,’ said Van. ‘We need to be careful.’

They walked along the wharf for several minutes, passing rows of house boats tied up at the long, spindly piers that jutted out into the waters of the wide estuary. A few people were out on their decks, enjoying the warm evening air, and Corthie’s height attracted a few glances. Van selected one of the many alleys leading off the wharf; it was narrow, and had garlands of flowers stretching between the high buildings on either side. At least a dozen taverns were open along the long stretch of the alley, and each seemed busy.

‘So, this is what I’ve been missing?’ said Corthie.

‘This is a bad idea,’ said Van. ‘One drink and then we go back?’

Corthie laughed. ‘Not a chance.’

Van led the way to a tavern. Its front door was open, and music was coming from the interior. They went inside, and a few heads turned to stare as they walked into the bar. Corthie glanced around. The place was half-full, and the patrons were clustered round small tables close to a low stage where a handful of musicians were playing. Van chose a table near the door, and they sat.

‘Say nothing,’ Van whispered, as a barmaid approached them.

‘What can I get you boys?’ she said, her eyes glancing at Corthie.

‘Ale,’ said Van.

‘And some of that vodka,’ said Corthie.

‘I’ll need the money up front,’ she said. ‘Sorry, boys, but you’re not regulars.’

Van reached into a pocket and withdrew a leather pouch. He counted out some coins and handed them over.

‘Here’s twenty for now,’ he said. ‘Keep the ale coming.’

The barmaid took the money, smiled and walked back to the bar.

‘What did I just tell you?’ he said to Corthie. ‘Your accent is out of place here.’

‘So’s yours.’

‘Yes, but I sound like I might be from Alea Tanton, whereas you?’

‘We could say I’m from Capston.’

‘That won’t work; this bar’s full of sailors who will have been down to the Southern Cape.’ His eyes darted around the tavern. ‘People are already starting to stare.’

‘Relax,’ said Corthie. ‘It’ll be fine.’

The barmaid brought a tray over to their table and unloaded two large mugs of ale, and two small glasses of vodka.

‘Where are you boys from, then?’ she said.

Van smiled. ‘We’re from a place called none-of-your-business.’

The barmaid scowled and returned to the bar. Corthie picked up the mug of ale and took a long drink.

‘My sister,’ he said.

‘What about her?’

‘Are you in love with her?’

Van’s smile disappeared.

‘Well?’ said Corthie.

‘I get the