The Songs of Loss, book one : Armanth

Chapter 12- Franello

Chapter 12- Franello

The discussion didn't take place right away: Abba, very angry, very wet too, returned to Jawaad's villa dragging Raevo by the hair. The ailing spy, shaken by every bump in the road that rekindles the pain of his wound, finds the journey hard enough to bear to persuade him to cooperate quickly. Damas followed the slaver and calmed the crowds when the two men found themselves mingled with all those who had set off in pursuit of the prowler. All were nervous, soaking wet and, for many, annoyed, not quite knowing what they'd been sent chasing after. It took all Abba's support and persuasion - WHICH involved speaking very loudly, rolling his muscles and reminding everyone that he could break most of his interlocutors in half without forcing himself - for Raevo to escape to be stoned by the vigilantes and the local residents, who were very unhappy to have had to take the storm because of an intruder. When the slaver had finally reached Jawaad's villa with his burden, which was exhausted, he was in a bad mood, to say the least.

***

The storm redoubled, the thunder raging with enough force that at times you could feel the vibration in the air and the windows tinkling; weather to make you fearfully superstitious. Abba, who was largely superstitious, was fiddling with his necklace of bone pearls adorned with a number of medals and fetishes, in which the effigy of the Divine Council, a simple silver ring, took pride of place. Damas, even though much less so, rubbed the whalebone scale that never left his belt with his thumb. Might as well put his luck on his side, he might have thought, even for a simple storm, which scholars claimed was merely a natural phenomenon and in no way an expression of divine wrath. But what did the scholars really know, after all? As ever, Jawaad was almost indifferent to the thunderstorm that streaked across the sky, regularly lighting up the cellar with a blue glow that seemed to extinguish the candles responsible for lighting it up a little. Opposite him, Raevo, leaning on some old jute sacks, had other things to think about than the storm. Lightning and fear of the gods were of little concern to him either; he was wounded and gambling with his life.

"Okay, I've told you everything. Look, Jawaad, I have no reason to lie. My job's in jeopardy, your... er... well, the other one there - he was pointing at Damascus with his chin - has me pinned up like a butterfly. I'm pissing blood, I wouldn't get far without treatment and my only salvation is to tell you everything, counting on the fact that you have no interest in killing me after all... right?"

The master merchant turned his dark gaze on the ailing spy. So far, he hadn't made a move to have him treated, but Azur was at his side, already carrying some basic care for the wounded man. She was waiting for her master's order.

"I could make your remains disappear, and no one would come and ask me about your fate."

"But I've told you everything! The man who hired me was Narwin Callimus! My job was to follow your movements, learn your habits, find out when and where you can be found! I had nothing to do with the spadassins in the tavern or the accident at the shipyard. My job is to spy on people, not kill them!"

"Narwin Callimus, what do you know about him?"

"He's a port tax administrator; an old, unsuspecting paper-pusher, just an accountant. I've never heard anything about him that would explain why he's after you! All I know is that he's employed by the Naa'shetim Merchant House on behalf of the Elegio, that he's seen there as an unvarnished mediocre fellow, but who does his job well. The only thing of interest... well, I mean, apart from the fact that he's hired me to keep an eye on you for over a month, is that he hides his relationship with Franello well."

The theatrical pause in the explanation brought Abba off his feet. In two steps, he was on top of the wounded man and bellowed in a voice that could have stopped a whole phalanx in its tracks: