4 City of Strife Read Online Free Page B

face. “What would do that?”
    “I don’t know,” said the cook. “But there’s those that have taken to skinning and eating cats. They’re a bunch of hungry, thieving bastards down in the Rat’s Maze. They’ll eat anything so they will.”
    Kormak remembered the taunt Bors had lobbed at little Jan; cat-eater. “When did all this start happening? I don’t remember any of this when I was last here.”
    “Skinned cats were found all over the slums since the end of last summer, or so I hear,” said Lila. “Some say its worshippers of the Rat King.” She made an Elder Sign over her breast. “Some say its some new Shadow cult making sacrifices.”
    “Some say it’s the rats themselves, there’s more of them around,” said the cook.
    “There would be with less cats to keep them down.” Kormak sat down to eat. He chewed his bread thoughtfully. The kitten moved over to where he was and began to tug at the leg of his britches. Kormak picked it up gently and moved it away. The kitten came back and started tugging away again.
    “Bounce likes you,” said Lila.
    “Cats usually do, for some reason,” said Kormak. He pulled his cloak around him, looked up at the position of the sun in the sky. “I’d best be off.”
    Lila looked suddenly worried. “You have business to attend to?”
    He shook his head. “I am going to the shrine of Saint Verma to ask for a penance. I have a few sins to atone for.”

    Kormak stepped out of the courtyard of the Gilded Lion. More snow had fallen overnight. It had piled up in drifts against the outside wall and made large soft banks beside merchant’s stalls in the square. It weighed down the awnings over the storefronts of shops and clung to the fur collars of the prominent citizens as they went about their business in the chill morning light.
    He paused at a stand where a vendor was roasting sausages over a metal grill and bought one, more for the warmth than because he was hungry. The vendor handed it to him on a slice of bread. Kormak leaned against the trellis at the side of the man’s stall and studied his surroundings. A bunch of beggars were already seeking alms from passers-by. Monks from a dozen different orders stood on corners and spoke to those who would listen. The cold was not going to stop them preaching their sermons of the Sun’s salvation.
    There were a lot of armed men about. Some wore the tabards of the city guard. Many wore golden jerkins with the sign of the Sun and Scales on them. Still others wore greyish jerkins with the sign of the Moon and Flute. There were other signs, including a white unicorn on a dark blue background and a golden bear, but the first two were by far the most common. The men in gold and grey looked at each other like they were spoiling for a fight. Some of them looked like they’d already been in a number of scraps.
    Near the soldiers, like auxiliaries attached to an army, were bands of men and boys with either yellow or grey scarves wrapped around their biceps. They always seemed to move in the wake of the armoured men, yellow scarves standing near the men with golden jerkins, grey scarves near the men with grey jerkins. Each group regarded the other warily and with some hostility.
    Kormak dredged his memories from the last time he had been in Vermstadt. “Sun and Scales—that’s the sign of the Oldbergs, isn’t it?”
    The vendor looked at him suspiciously. Kormak took a bite of the sausage. Warm grease spurted in his mouth. The meat slid down his throat. “Good sausage,” he said. “I always heard Vermstadt was famous for them.”
    The vendor nodded and said, “You’re not from around here are you?”
    “From up by the Aquilean border,” Kormak said. “Just killing the snowy season before it’s time to take up the blade again. Thought I would visit the Temple of Saint Verma and seek some release from my sins.”
    “I’m surprised you’ve not taken up work with Oldbergs or the Krugmans,” said the vendor.