Players of the Game. Graeme Talboys K.
rats,’ she added as they skirted the edges of a large yard, keeping to the deeper shadow. Alltud eyed what little he could see of the roofline whilst Jeniche guided him round invisible obstacles. He thought he caught the odour of burnt sand and hot metal characteristic of a forge, but it was a fleeting impression. ‘They’ll know all these back ways blindfolded and sleepwalking. Still, they may get arrogant and careless. Or we might, in our ignorance, go places they wouldn’t dare to enter.’
‘Was that meant to be reassuring?’
Beyond the yard there were more of the seemingly endless alleyways and narrow gaps between buildings. Alltud wondered just who lived there and if it was as bad in daylight as it felt in pitch darkness.
Tired, they stopped for a moment in a broader, silent thoroughfare, standing side by side in a wide doorway. The gates behind them felt solid. Even through the cloth over their lower faces they could smell and taste the fine desert dust they had kicked up in their flight.
Alltud pushed back against the door. ‘Any chance—’
‘No lock. Barred from the inside.’
‘What if we split up?’
He should have been ready for it considering the number of times she’d done it in the past to make a point, but the punch on his arm was as unexpected and painful as it had ever been. He smiled in the dark.
‘We are not splitting up,’ she said. ‘Not until we both have safe passage home.’
Alltud refrained from sighing. He knew that meant when he had safe passage home, but that was an argument to have later. Right now, they needed to escape from this maze and find their way down to the waterfront.
Stepping out into a street where several lanterns hung was disorientating. They had both become so accustomed to moving silently in the dark, that they felt exposed and uncertain. They could travel faster, but they could be seen.
Jeniche looked a silent question at Alltud, who shrugged in reply. ‘At least it’s downhill,’ he said.
They stepped out and walked as if they had every right to be there and weren’t being chased for some reason. Several women crossed the street further down the hill and went into a large building. Two donkeys stood outside patiently chewing on fodder and ignoring the noise from within. There were other signs of life as well.
‘All that must have been workshops back there,’ said Jeniche. ‘They weren’t likely to risk the rooftops in case of guards.’
‘So we shook them off?’
Three men appeared further downhill. The same ones they had seen before.
‘You had to ask.’
‘What do they want?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s go and ask.’
‘Very funny. So what now?’
‘Let’s go and find out who owns those donkeys.’
‘What?’
But he followed all the same. He had no doubt that they could have beaten the three men in a fight, but the last thing they wanted was trouble. Of course, the last thing you want…
Jeniche patted one of the donkeys as they passed, but it was too busy eating to do much more than twitch its long, soft ears. They stepped through the open double doors of the building where the women had gone. Hot, damp air enveloped them, carrying faint sounds of talking and splashing.
‘A bath house?’ asked Alltud.
‘Better hope it’s not ladies’ night if it is,’ said Jeniche.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, stepping sideways to avoid her knuckles.
Following the noise, they went through an inner door, pulling down their keffiyeh. It was ladies’ night, but it wasn’t a bath house.
Lanterns ranged round the walls were wreathed with steam. The women there were emptying baskets of clothing into large vats, standing on a low step to drop their loads into the steaming water. Boys scuttled about carrying bundles of firewood.
Bemused, Alltud stopped and watched until a nudge from Jeniche moved him on. He looked over his shoulder as they went through into another room, catching a glimpse of the three men.
The new room was noisier and much larger. There, baskets of wet laundry were dumped into smaller tubs of soapy water and large, bare-armed women stood with washing paddles to stir and pound the clothes. Others were transferring the lathered garments into shallow troughs where they beat them against angled stone slabs. The wet smacking drowned out any conversation and the steam made it difficult to see a way through.
Weaving between the tubs, slipping on the floor, avoiding the paddles that rose and fell, dancing round youngsters who carried dripping loads from one tub to another, they made their way through the complex of rooms looking for a way out. Their pursuers, not having to waste time looking for a route, gained ground.
Beyond the washing and rinsing area, they found themselves in a huge drying shed. Lines of washing hung dripping onto a floor lined with drainage channels. Jeniche pushed Alltud ahead of her between two lines of sheets.
‘Run,’ she said.
He didn’t need urging and they sped along as fast as the uneven ground would allow. Risking a glance, Jeniche saw their pursuers following.
As they reached the far end, Jeniche called: ‘I need a leg up.’
Alltud turned, bent forward, and laced his fingers together, palm up, making a step. Without breaking stride, Jeniche placed a foot into Alltud’s hands and he straightened his back. As she was hoisted upward, she drew her swords. With delicate twists of her wrists, she sheared through the heavy washing lines on either side of her and dropped back to the ground.
Somewhere behind them was a roar as their pursuers went down beneath a tangle of wet sheets and line. Another roar as the owner of the laundry saw what had happened.
From the enclosed smell of soap and clean linen they ran out into a vast yard filled with low bleaching vats filled with urine, reeking under the night sky. Another young man stood uncertainly in their way. He was armed but looked neither happy nor prepared. Alltud charged straight at him and shouldered him to one side.
Jeniche saw the look of horror on the young man’s face as he realized there was no way he could stop himself from going into one of the vats. He wouldn’t be rejoining the chase anytime soon. They could still hear his pathetic cries for help as they clambered over a wall and vanished into the darkness beyond.
They had been none too certain where they were before, although Jeniche had a vague idea of which direction they should be heading. Now they were completely lost. The chase through the laundry and the subsequent desire to put distance between themselves and the trouble churning in their wake had left them disorientated.
After catching their breath, they had cast around until they found a narrow road that went downhill. With a great deal of caution they crept along, avoiding doors and windows, hoping their presence would go unremarked by the occasional local that they encountered.
Before long, Jeniche stopped. They rested against the side of a decrepit building.
‘Problem?’ asked Alltud in a whisper.
‘I’m not sure this is the right downhill any more,’ said Jeniche. ‘We may be heading inland. It’s too dark down there. The harbour is always well lit at night.’
‘Well we can’t stay here,’ he replied. ‘Wherever here is. Take your best guess.’
They stepped back out onto the road for a few paces before Jeniche found them another alley. Alltud found he was getting used to the dark, although it was not something he wanted to make a habit of.
Following close on Jeniche’s heels, he became aware that she was slowing. Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, ‘What’s