Page 47 of Nemesis Mine
“Too busy for his own city. Sounds about right.”
“Mmm.” The other woman sounded doubtful, but she wasn’t denying it. “But he’s been keeping Earthshaker at bay, hasn’t he? You read the papers? That’s got to count for something, I reckon. Wouldn’t wanthimround here. Sounds a right nasty piece of work.”
Cyrus beamed inside his hood before he caught himself and smoothed his expression into something suitably moody. It was tempting to dip his hood just enough to eyeball the pair, see if he could make them scream, but he resisted. He had bigger plans for today.
Rounding the corner, he found the brewery, its wide doors opening onto a small square with a fountain at the centre. A figure danced atop an ornate pillar—one of Summer’s daughters, freckled and carefree—with four jets of water arcing gracefully through the air and wetting the red stone to maroon. The brewery itself was a large, squat building with a chimney erupting from the centre of it in a vaguely phallic manner. Green fields rolled out from the back, startlingly vibrant against Heliarth’s warm tones. Bamboo canes divided each field into precise rectangles with hops stretching up alongside them.
A crowd had already formed around the public entrance, where Maximillian was due to make a speech and cut the ribbon to declare the brewery open. Cyrus scanned the crowd for a flash of a familiar bronze head, but Maximillian was nowhere to be seen. Still, for all the grumbling about the local champion, plenty had gathered to see him.
Cyrus weaved around the back of the building, heading for the door highlighted by Balthazar on the map. It was quiet, no security to be seen. Balthazar’s work, probably;Cyrus would be sure to thank him profusely for the role he had played in ruining the brewery opening later, just to see that vein in his forehead start twitching.
He slipped inside with ease, pausing to inhale the malty scent of fermenting beer. The outside chatter was dulled from here, but Cyrus could use the dull hum of noise to find his way to the public entrance. Sleek metal tubing snaked alongside the right-hand wall, whilst large doors veered off to the left. The signs seemed promising: boiler room, clarification station, bottling department. Cyrus particularly liked the idea of the mashing room. He imagined a wrongdoer could have a lot of fun in there.
Before long the dim passages of the brewery gave way to the entrance doors and bright sunlight beyond. He couldn’t see Maximillian yet among a scattering of other people—Heliarth’s council officials, probably, and dullards, the lot of them. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall to wait for his signal, tapping out a bored rhythm against his thigh.
When applause reached his ears, Cyrus turned back towards the door. He saw him at once, well attuned to picking Maximillian out of any crowd. The champion’s hair glinted in the sunshine, his head bobbing in thanks as the people clapped for him. Cyrus had intended to get straight to it, but he found himself lingering for a moment, just to watch as Maximillian played the crowd with ease.
Although he didn’t seem to be pulling that off quite as well as he usually did. Cyrus eyed his shoulders, noting new tension there. Perhaps it was the location, the knowledge that they were performing in front of his own people.
Better to get it over with, then. Cyrus took a breath, readying himself. Then he strode forward and burst through the door, pushing back his cloak with a flourish to reveal his smirking face and a dagger already glinting in one hand.
A chorus of yelps marked his entrance, along with one little shriek. Maximillian spun sharply. The officials spun too, their expressions ranging from stunned to horrified. Cyrus gave them all a good stare, dragging it out and enjoying the way they tried to melt into the crowd. Then he turned his attention, slowly and deliciously, to Maximillian.
Their eyes met. In that split second, an odd expression crossed Maximillian’s face, almost distressed. Then he squared his shoulders and the expression vanished, sucked under by a neutral mask.
Hmm. Definitely a hint of nerves at pulling this stunt in his own city, in front of his own sceptical people. Cyrus would need to be careful. They couldn’t afford any slipups. But it would be fine; he would just play up the drama to make up for it. Cyrus lowered his chin, watching Maximillian with narrowed eyes from under his brows. He knew it made him look manic, almost demonic; he had been practising (at length) in the mirror. Let the people see him lock eyes with his enemy, mark him as his target. Only he and Maximillian knew what that look truly said.
Time to play.
Usually Maximillian would pick up the playfulness and run with it; toss his noble head and make some exaggerated comment about how Cyrus’s villainy would never run free whilst he was here. Today, he seemed to hesitate, hiseyes flickering to his people before they returned to Cyrus. Damn it, he really wasn’t at his best. The crowd responded, though, feet shuffling on red dirt as they tried to edge backwards. Somebody gave voice to a cry that was fast becoming one of Cyrus’s favourite sounds.
“Earthshaker! He has come, he has come!”
The voice seemed to nudge Maximillian into action. He stepped forward. “Earthshaker,” he said. His voice was tight, like it was caught in his throat. “Why are you here?”
“I am here to see my nemesis.” Cyrus kept his own tone deliberately light, a counterpoint to Maximillian’s nerves. On a whim, he took a step closer and reached out towards Maximillian with his dagger, chucking him gently under the chin with the flat of the blade. A tease, but also an excuse to steady Maximillian before they came to blows.Keep your cool. It’s our game, remember?
No response. Normally Maximillian would make a big show of sweeping the dagger aside. Honestly, he was lucky that Cyrus was so skilled in the art of being dramatic.
Cyrus affected a pout, tilting his head to one side. “You’re awfully quiet today,” he said blandly, a barb for their listeners and a pointed comment for Maximillian himself. “Am I not allowed to check in, from time to time?”
“You are not welcome,” said Maximillian stiffly. Well, he was speaking, at least. “As well you know. We do not want you here.”
Liar.Cyrus grinned. “Well, that’s a shame. I’m partial to a nice beer as much as the next wrongdoer, you know—”
Maximillian moved abruptly, a swipe of his hand dislodging Cyrus’s blade at his throat. He had overcalculated—or perhaps it was on purpose? The dagger clattered to the floor between them.
Cyrus looked at the dagger, then back up at Maximillian, raising his brows.
Then they were both moving in an instant—Cyrus unsheathing his second dagger and leaping to attack, Maximillian shoving the officials back into the crowd with a warning roar. He ducked Cyrus’s slice and shoved him off-balance when he tried to get in another blow. Cyrus twisted, lashing out again, and his dagger bit into Maximillian’s forearm as he went for his sword. Maximillian hissed in pain. His other hand came up and punched Cyrus soundly in the side of his head, sending him reeling back a few steps.
He probably should have expected that.
By the time his ears had stopped ringing, Maximillian’s sword was drawn and he was advancing on Cyrus again. The crowd seemed tighter, somehow, like they had pressed together. Their proximity needled at Cyrus. There was no clear escape route here, not penned in like this. He would have to—
No more time for thought; Maximillian was on him again, ferocious, the weight of his sword battering against every defence Cyrus threw up. He was a strong fighter, always had been, but he was particularly intense today. Showing off for his people, no doubt. Cyrus twisted away, drove a sharp elbow into his ribs. It was harder than it needed to be, annoyed.Stopit.
A grunt escaped but Maximillian was undeterred; he slashed at Cyrus again, the blade veering too close to his ribs for comfort. Cyrus leapt backwards only to collide with someone standing behind him. He felt panicked hands on his back, shoving him away. There was no time to catch his balance before momentum drove him forward, stumbling into Maximillian. They slammed into each other hard enough to wind, Maximillian staggering as he was knocked off-balance.
