Through the Darkness

Bembo never liked moving fast. Here, though, he had no choice. Along with the rest of the constables from Tricarico--and several other squads besides--he trotted two blocks into the Kaunian quarter, then moved along a street parallel to the one marking the district’s outer border. More constables fanned out through the couple of square blocks thus cut off, crying, “Kaunians, come forth!”

Some Kaunians did come forth. The Algarvian constables pounced on them and hustled them away toward the edge of the district, where more Algarvians took charge of them. Other blonds tried to hide. Wherever no one came forth, the constables broke down the doors and went through flats and shops. Bembo listened to shouts and screams and the sound of blows landing.

So did Oraste. Bembo’s burly partner kicked at the cobblestones. “Those buggers get to have all the fun, and we’re stuck here twiddling our thumbs,” he grumbled.

“There’s always next time,” answered Bembo, who was just as well pleased not to be beating people--and not to run the risk that some desperate Kaunian might fight back with a knife or even with a stick.

By the noises coming from the sealed-off blocks, the Kaunians weren’t doing much in the way of fighting back. The Algarvians’ descent on their district must have caught them by surprise. That rather surprised Bembo. Given the way his countrymen liked to brag and boast, they weren’t the best folk for keeping secrets.

He was about to say as much when a Kaunian woman fleeing from the constables dashed across the street toward the interior of the district to which the blonds had been relegated. Oraste let out a roar of glee. “Hold it right there, sister,” he shouted, “or you’re dead the next step.” He leveled his stick at the woman.

She skidded to a stop. Obviously, he meant what he said. If his tone hadn’t told her as much, the fierce eagerness on his face would have. “Why?” she asked bitterly, in good Algarvian. “What did I ever do to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Oraste said. “Just get moving, or it’s all over now instead of later.”

Her shoulders slumped. All the fight oozed out of her; Bembo watched it happen. She turned away and stumbled back toward the other blonds who were being rounded up.

Oraste still didn’t seem satisfied. “That was too easy,” he complained.

“You really want to kill somebody, don’t you?” Bembo said.

His partner nodded. “Sure--why not? That’s what this business is all about, isn’t it?--killing Kaunians, I mean. Of course, they do us more good dead if the mages get to use their life energy, but a couple knocked off here won’t make much difference one way or the other.”

“If you say so.” Bembo would sooner have collected bribes or favors of a more intimate sort from the blonds, but nobody paid any attention to what he wanted. He sighed, wallowing in self-pity.

And then several more Kaunians came dashing toward him, desperation in every line of their frantically fleeing bodies. Oraste didn’t have time for wordy challenges now. “Halt!” he shouted, and started blazing.

A Kaunian man went down almost at once, howling and grabbing at the wounded leg that would no longer bear his weight. A woman fell a moment later. She didn’t howl. She didn’t move, either. Red, red blood pooled under her head.

But the rest of the blonds ran the gauntlet and vanished into buildings beyond the constables’ perimeter. Oraste turned a furious glare on Bembo. “Well, you’re fornicating useless, aren’t you?” he snarled.

“They caught me by surprise,” Bembo said--not much of an excuse, but the best he could come up with. He advanced on the wounded Kaunian. “Let’s take charge of this son of a whore.”

“He hasn’t got all he deserves yet, by the powers above,” Oraste said, yanking his bludgeon from the belt loop that held it. “You can help me give him what for.”

He laid into the Kaunian with savage gusto. Every cry the wounded man let out seemed to spur him on. And Bembo had to beat the blond, too--either that or have Oraste reckon him a slacker. “You stupid bugger,” he said again and again as he swung his own club. “You ugly, stupid bugger.” He hated the Kaunian for not either escaping or dying. As things were, the fellow had left Bembo no choice but to do something for which he had no stomach.

When more blonds tried to break free of the Algarvian net, Bembo got to stop beating the wounded Kaunian man. Instead of blazing at the fugitives, he ran after them. Rather to his own surprise--he wasn’t especially fast on his feet--he caught up with one of them--a woman--and brought her down with a tackle that surely would have started a brawl on any football pitch.

“That’s more like it,” Oraste shouted from behind him. “Maybe you’re worth a little something after all.”