Lex Trent versus the Gods Page 3

  No one could deny that the Goddess of Fortune was a useful ally to have but Lex sometimes couldn’t help wishing that his benefactress were a little less dim-witted.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said, fluttering her hands in dismay. ‘You’d better be off then, hadn’t you, Lex?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lex replied, giving the deity a mocking bow. ‘Your servant, my Lady, until next time. Perhaps you could see your way clear to giving me a little help getting out of the city?’

  It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Goddess had her church - and therefore her pride - and Lex had that greatest of gifts to a thief, fraudster and all-round good-for-nothing - luck. Mr Montgomery Schmidt could have torn his hair out at the way fate seemed to conspire against him that evening.

  The Wither City was the centre of all trade and commerce in the Lands Above and as such, the city never slept. There were midnight markets set up all round the docks - the hub of all activity in the city. Stalls were randomly set up all over the place, selling crafts, spices, talismans, amulets and black enchantments from across the Azure Sea. Enterprising local Withians had set up their own stalls to supply the foreigners with Withian delicacies such as mini-sea-squids-on-sticks and candied insects although really the main export of the Wither City was its books. Great leather-bound tomes tied up with string and musty with the smell of ancient, valuable old pages. Books like those made in the Wither City could not be found anywhere else on the Globe. Smoke hung over the place from various cooking fires and the air was filled with the aroma of roasting squid and the sound of hundreds of voices jabbering away in as many different languages.

  Lex dodged through crowds that seemed to magically part for him whilst Mr Schmidt and the guards at his heels had to fight their way through the throngs of seamen and merchants. Carts that did not in any way hinder Lex seemed to get right in the way of Schmidt and his henchmen. At one point, an entire market stall went over and, glancing over his shoulder, Lex distinctly saw his employer slipping about on the ground covered in slimy squid tentacles. He did not look very happy about it.

  Lex grinned, kept his head down and pushed on through the midnight markets to the docks. Her Ladyship was living up to her side of the bargain tonight. Luck was on his side. The trouble was that luck could only take a person so far and Lex was sometimes in danger of forgetting that in the heady thrill of having everything going his way. ‘Good luck’ did not equal ‘invincibility’. Nor did it equal ‘unbeatable’ or ‘unconquerable’ or any other of those impressively God-like sounding words. Luck was what it was - a helping hand and nothing more. For the most part, it was all still up to Lex and his own native wits to escape from any situation that he had willingly launched himself headlong into.

  He would buy his passage aboard one of the ships setting sail tonight. Once he was out of Withian territory, the law of the Wither City would have no jurisdiction over him anyway and Mr Schmidt would never be able to find him once he’d escaped to the Eastern Provinces. He would start again somewhere else. He had done it before. With his almost photographic memory and ability to adapt and pick up new skills, Lex was sure he would excel at pretty much anything he put his hand to. It wasn’t arrogance. It would only be arrogance if you didn’t know you were a multi-talented genius. But there was no one else like Lex - he was the best at everything. Everything. And he knew it too.

  But it would be the rash actions of an inexperienced amateur to hop onto the nearest ship and set sail for who-knew-where without first providing for the journey and planning for the destination. Money was not a problem for Lex. Quite apart from the money belt and the stash of stolen goods he was carrying in his bag, he was an accomplished enough thief to be sure of surviving wherever he ended up. But there was more to travelling on the Globe than mere money and Lex had learnt long ago that it did not pay to be ill prepared, especially when travelling across provinces. There were things he would have to purchase before leaving the Wither City, the place that had been his home for just under a year.

  Although it certainly hadn’t been Lex’s plan to leave the city that night, in some ways he was almost glad that fate had forced his hand. There was nothing like the excitement of running. And there was most definitely nothing like the excitement of being chased! And he had stayed here too long anyway - law and the Wither City had only ever been a means to an end. But before he left, he needed to make his purchases and whilst the midnight markets were the place to buy everything and anything, it would be a tedious bother to have to conduct his shopping in a hasty rush with Mr Schmidt yapping at his heels. Much as Lex was enjoying the chase, he was therefore forced to cut it off short.

  He stripped off the distinctive bright red jacket he had donned just for that purpose and paid a cabin boy to put it on and scamper aboard his ship just as it was setting sail. Then he lurked about at the docks, coiling up the ropes with the other dockworkers, as Mr Schmidt burst out onto the wooden planks and gave a visual demonstration of just what exactly the word ‘apoplectic’ means. Although he was keeping his head down, Lex could easily understand the cause of his employer’s rage for Lex had paid the boy with instructions to take off the red coat once he boarded the ship and wave it energetically from the prow until the harbour was out of sight. Mr Schmidt could not fail to see it and, from that distance, he would be unable to tell that the boy was not in fact the iniquitous Lex Trent but a mere cabin boy instead.

  The lawyer could have been no more than a dozen paces away but as Lex was wearing the cabin boy’s grubby old cap and jacket, Mr Schmidt would have had no reason to pay him any heed. Lex could have just sidled away into the shadows without any risk of discovery. But then a piece of paper fell from the lawyer’s hand and, because Lex was Lex, he picked it up as Mr Schmidt turned away and hurried after him to tug at his sleeve, raising the tone of his voice and being careful to keep his face hidden beneath the cap.

  ‘Lost sumfing, guv?’

  Mr Schmidt glanced down at the abandoned, useless warrant and snatched it from Lex’s hand with a bad-natured word of thanks. Although, to his credit, he rummaged in his pocket for the customary coin and tossed it to Lex, even if it was with the same lack of grace.

  ‘Thanks, guv’nor!’ Lex called after him as the lawyer strode off into the throng.

  It really was too easy. It was on the tip of his tongue to call out some other parting comment that would give away his identity - just for the pure deliciousness of seeing the look on Schmidt’s already anger-flushed face. But it would be reckless to start the chase off again and Lex forced himself to accept that this one at least would have to remain a private victory.

  Lex had always loved the midnight markets. They were a way of life on the Globe and could be found in most western towns and cities in the Lands Above. But, as the centre of all trade, the markets in the Wither City were the largest and the most impressive, with the widest array of goods and services on offer.

  Lex had often wandered down late at night to talk to the merchants, partly to keep abreast of all the goings on across the Azure Sea and partly because it never hurt to be on friendly terms with the local salesmen - they were much less likely to rip you off if they knew you to be a local and not simply one of the many travellers that passed through the Wither City each year.

  ‘Hello Cara,’ Lex said, stepping up to one of the sea-gypsy stalls.

  ‘Hi, Lex,’ the girl behind the wooden stall said.

  She was about Lex’s age and had the typical black hair, dark eyes and olive skin of the sea-gypsies she sailed with. And she was sweet on Lex. Which helped him enormously whenever he wanted to get any information out of her. Not that he was a ladies’ man in general - in an era where teenage girls all seemed to be for the ‘treat ’em mean to keep ’em keen’ school of male wooing, Lex’s honest face (even if it was as false as he was) did not earn him many points where the fairer sex were concerned.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Cara asked, eyeing the bruises and cuts on Lex’s face and arms in the flickerin
g light from the torches and fires. ‘And why are you wearing those old sailor clothes?’

  ‘Because I’m going sailing,’ Lex replied, glancing at the black outline of the ships in the harbour. ‘I’m leaving the Wither City.’

  ‘Why?’ Cara asked. ‘How long for?’

  ‘Did you hear about the Shadowman? He struck again today.’

  Cara nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve heard people talking about it in the market. They said they arrested some kid . . . ’ She trailed off, staring at Lex, who nodded sadly. ‘But . . . surely . . . surely they can’t really think that you are the Shadowman?’

  The way she said it was like she couldn’t think of a more absurd suggestion, and Lex had to bite his tongue to keep himself from asking defensively: why not?

  ‘I was framed,’ he said, making his eyes go all big and scared. ‘I never stole whatever it was. I tried to tell them, but they won’t listen.’

  ‘You must come with us,’ Cara said at once.

  Sea-gypsies had been badly stigmatised over the years for thieving, double-crossing and casting spells over people - a reputation the facts suggested they did not deserve. But Lex had known that mention of an unwarranted accusation would strike a chord with Cara and might get him passage on board her family’s ship.

  ‘When do you leave?’ Lex asked. ‘They’re looking for me. I must get out of the Wither City as soon as I can.’

  ‘In the morning,’ Cara said. ‘But you can stay in one of the wagons until then if you want. They’ll be empty now because everyone else is out on the stalls.’

  She took a key from one of the pockets on her dress and handed it to him.

  ‘Are you sure it’s all right?’ Lex asked. ‘Your family won’t mind me coming along? I can pay my way.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome, Lex.’ She shook her head and added, ‘You, the Shadowman! Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything more ridiculous in my life! Everyone knows what a hard-working, upstanding citizen you are. I mean you don’t even drink or smoke or anything.’

  Lex nodded and looked pathetic. ‘I’ll go back to the wagon later. I have some things I need to get in the market first.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE WISHING SWANNS OF DESARETH

  It was straight to the seedy, less respectable area of the markets that Lex went, away from all the gimmicky, tourist stalls. This was for several reasons, one of which being that the more dangerous and unique goods could be found at that end. But mostly it was for pragmatic purposes because Lex needed buyers who were not going to ask any inconvenient questions about where exactly his goods had come from. He had plenty of money tucked away in his money belt with which he could have made his purchases but he didn’t want to tap into that if he could help it. The belt was his nest egg, his backup - light, easy to carry, easy to grab in a hurry and easy to run with if necessary. The goods he carried, on the other hand, were heavy, bulky and likely to slow him down. Besides which, a bulging bag would make him a target for thieves. He needed to lighten the load a little whilst he still could and the markets were the perfect place in which to do it.

  There is always a dark area of any town and it was the same with the midnight markets all over the Globe. There was the bright, bustling part next to the docks, filled with merchants and sailors and tourists and honest men. And then there was the dark area on the outskirts frequented by enchanters and criminals. Decent people stayed away from these stalls, not wanting to know what things were being traded in the squalid dimness or what whispered words were pouring poison into ears and minds.

  Lex was not afraid to move among such company. In the clothes of a mere cabin boy, no one was likely to pay him much attention anyway. From the look of him he certainly had nothing to steal. He always had his mouth, which had never let him down yet. And of course, Lady Luck was on his side. She always had been, really, even before he joined her church. It was just that, as an honest farm boy, Lex had not had the opportunity to discover his talents for fast-talking, quick-dealing and pick- pocketing before he left home two years ago. He had always had the capacity for it - always been ambitious with a strong craving for adventure and a disgruntled discontentment with his mediocre life on the farm. He’d known that he was destined for something more.

  It had all started when, one fateful day just a week after running away, he had gone to one of the Games to bet his last penny out of sheer desperation. He’d never been to a Game before because his grandfather did not think they were suitable for children - what with the fact that at least one player usually came to a sticky end or lost a hand or a foot or some other limb before the Game was over. After all, it was a Game of the Gods so it was bound to be dangerous. But Lex found it all thoroughly exhilarating. He loved the huge circular stadium with the bustling noise and the activity of hundreds of spectators placing bets before taking their seats to watch the next round being broadcast in the gigantic crystal ball in the centre. The Box of the Gods, suspended high above it all and commanding the best view, was where deities could lounge about eating grapes and watching the Game.

  There were always three Gods who each had one human player who would be put through three dangerous, exciting rounds. The winning God would experience an increase in popularity - oftentimes gaining a few more followers from other churches. For, once you made an oath of allegiance to a God, that oath was not for life and you were free to pick another God whenever you liked. The Gods were flexible and realistic about such things. As for the winning human . . . they got glory, fame, adoration . . . everything they’d ever wanted in fact. The only problem was that this only tended to last for a few minutes before everything more or less went back to normal. They’d sign a few autographs, pose for a few pictures. And then everyone would forget them. For the Games simply occurred too frequently for everyone who played in them to be some sort of superstar.

  Lex handed over his penultimate penny to get admittance to the stadium - although it was standing room only by that time, which was just as well for Lex could not have afforded a seat anyway. The Game that day was between Haarii, God of Abundance, Jessope, Goddess of Fertility, and Manneron, God of Hunting. Each Game consisted of three rounds that each lasted for an hour or two, spread across a period of about three weeks. This Game was only just beginning and people had gathered that day to watch the first round. As Lex walked through he stopped to look at the souvenir carts selling t-shirts, lollies and lunch boxes, each emblazoned with the face of one of the competing Gods. There were flags for the kids too, Lex noticed, for - despite his grandfather’s feelings on the matter - there were quite a lot of children in the audience.

  Lex bet his last penny on Haarii. As it happened, Jessope won that round and Lex lost the bet, but he strolled out of the stadium with three fat wallets in his pocket. He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d turned up fully expecting just to stand there and watch the Game with everyone else. But then he’d noticed a wallet sticking out of the pocket of the man in the top hat in front of him. Really it would have been stupid not to take it. It slid out as though it had been greased and soon it was buried away in Lex’s coat. And that was when he first discovered that he had light fingers.

  With the money he stole on that first occasion he went straight out and purchased a set of fine clothes for himself. He had noticed a few people shoot him suspicious looks that first time in the stadium because he looked exactly like what he was - a farm boy and a poor, dirty, hungry, desperate one at that. So he bought himself a ridiculous-looking waistcoat and top hat and gloves and a shiny black stick with a golden knob at the end. Dressed like that no one would imagine for a moment that he was really a pickpocket in disguise. They wouldn’t be on guard around him and - if someone were to discover that their wallet had gone and raise the alarm (as, in fact, happened on more than one occasion) - then Lex could simply stroll out of the stadium, twirling his stick between his gloved fingers without any worry that the guards would try to stop him.

  But, of course, there was more
to it than clothes. There was another week to go before the second round so Lex bought himself a mirror and then rented a small, basic room in a local inn where he spent hours practising various different facial expressions ranging from haughty to superior to smug to self-righteous - basically any expression that a young toff might wear depending on how he was feeling. After only a few days he had it down pat. He was quite delighted to discover that he was a born natural at this sort of thing and he didn’t even have a mentor telling him what to do and showing him the ropes. Lex did not fall in with a bad crowd who were a corrupting influence on him - seducing him to the dark side. Nor did a more experienced criminal take him under his wing and teach him all he knew. Rather it all came from within himself as if the predisposition had been there all along just waiting to come out. He instinctively knew what to do and he was good at it.

  Lex also practised the posh accent to go with the clothes, which came in very handy when he went back to the stadium a week later for the second round, and a lah-didah lady in a ridiculous hat towering with waxed fruit turned round to catch Lex with his hand practically in her handbag.