The Summer of the Swordsman

Chapter X

FIGHTING FIRES

Time passed and we continued with our job, which we did very well considering that Eslu's a city of thatched roofs. We stopped a couple of bad blazes and our confidence grew. When a fire was sighted there was, naturally enough, a cry of "Fire!" bellowed as loudly as possible. This alerted everyone in the neighborhood, and quenching operations were begun immediately. The nearby houses were saturated with water, as well as the burning house, to keep the fire from spreading. We had taught the townsfolk to do this, and they caught on very quickly.

The system worked well until one evening when several of the officers including Kenui and myself had more than several pints apiece warming in our bellies. It had been a difficult day with one bad fire, a false alarm, and a near‑riot at the marketplace. Several of our men had been injured, and I expected one of them to die. And to make matters worse, Prince Esrik was holding a grand ball at his palace, so some of us were separated from our living quarters. The bitter, cool ale had taken the edge from our fatigue and made us all a little more cheerful.

As usual, Kenui had supplemented his pints with liberal pulls at his private flask. He was in fine fettle, and as we paraded toward the richer quarter of town, skirting the open sewer, he spied a wisp of smoke trailing from one of the chimneys of the town, harnessed that sight to his extravagant imagination, and was off on a mad flight of fancy.

Letting out an unearthly whoop that nearly toppled Quinquius into the sewer, he took to his heels, shaking his fist and shouting "There's the bastard! Fire! Help, all! Fire!"

People came pouring from their houses and groggily queued up to form bucket brigades. It was as though the townsfolk had eavesdropped during our first discussions about this contract. There were no wells nearby and, as I had said then, they used whatever was closest. Buckets emerged dripping from the sewer, and their unsavory contents went sailing through the air to land upon golden thatch with foul‑smelling results.

As Kenui continued his raucous pursuit of the fire, still shaking his fist and shouting, we, too, left. People were beginning to realize that there was no fire, but there were plenty who weren't going to take their word for it. The ones who had accepted the truth weren't looking particularly benevolent, either, and soon the air was filled with curses as well as sewage.

I ran after Kenui, shouting at him to stop, but he only bellowed the louder with bucket brigades springing up right and left in his wake and everywhere the smell of sewage.

"I'll try to catch him!" I yelled over my shoulder at Quinquius and the others, who were panting along behind me. "You calm everybody down!" The others drew back and I chased after Kenui alone.

And then I saw the building he was heading for, a high, proud stone fortress with light blazing through the windows, with horses tethered by the door, with carriages and litters clustered in the courtyard. The palace of Prince Esrik, on the night of a grand ball.

I lengthened my stride with a despairing wail and almost caught Kenui except that I tripped over my own two feet and sprawled face down on the cobblestones of the courtyard, with the sound of panicked cries and the splash of water in the background.

Kenui was within the palace and laughing like a fiend by the time I had pulled myself to my feet and limped after him, heading for the hall, where the great fireplace was located.

I was halted at the doorway to the ballroom by Esrik's guards, who had arrived late on the scene. They seized my arms and ignored my pleas to be released even as Kenui continued on his way. I was privileged to watch as he rushed up through the brightly clad guests, shouldering ladies and liveried servants aside as he fought his way toward the huge, apple‑scented, leaping fire that roared in the fireplace.

Kenui skidded to a halt, looked right and left, and I could see straight into his fuddled mind for a horrible moment. He was looking for a bucket of water to throw on the fire. Not finding one, he cast about for another way to douse the fire. His eyes met mine and widened in sudden delight as he remembered the solution.

I still shake my head when I remember, even after all these years. If anything can go wrong it will do so at the worst possible time. Kenui wasn't known for his memory, and I still don't understand how of all the things he had seen and heard, he fastened upon some words I had said in coarse jest a month before. It still puzzles me.

I was horrified at the time. All the uneasy feelings I had had about the Esluvians, about their condescension toward the troop, the hatred Danskaggans felt toward all mercenaries, and Anakreon's growing annoyance with Kenui's drinking seemed to burst into my brain in one moment. I struggled in the grip of the guards, gave up, and yelled, "No, Kenui!"

He didn't hear me and wasn't even deterred by Anakreon's sudden and wrathful appearance in the circle of guests surrounding him. He bowed deliberately to the ladies present, unbuttoned his trousers, and deluged the fire. I turned away, sickened and ashamed, in time to see Esrik's beautiful princess cast herself upon the floor in a fit of strong, loud, heel‑drumming hysterics.