4 City of Strife Read Online Free PDF

on.
    Later, he thought. He would give alms later. He noticed someone was pointing at him. The hand he was using to do so was bandaged. After a moment Kormak recognised Bors, with some of his cronies, talking with a large armoured man. The expression of neither was friendly.
    Some men with silver tabards were already moving towards him. He stepped into an alley and increased his pace as soon as he was out of sight.

    Kormak glanced back over his shoulder. The men still followed him. He ducked down another alley and found himself in a small courtyard with a well in the centre and a group of poor-looking shops around the edge. The exit on the far side had been bricked up, sealing the space. There was no way out, the whole court was enclosed by tenements.
    He moved over to the door of one of the buildings and tried it. It was locked. A vendor looked at him suspiciously and he realised that taking refuge in one of the buildings would not help. The locals would simply point out where he had gone to his pursuers. Even as that thought occurred to him, the first of the grey-tabarded men entered the court yard. He smiled, put his fingers into his mouth, let out a long whistle and shouted, “He’s here.”
    Snow crunched as more men ran down the alley; one or two of them came to a skidding stop of the slippery ground. They spread out in a half circle. Bors entered, looking cocky. A big, brutal looking man was at his side, wearing armour and holding a mace. Kormak could see there was a family resemblance between him and Bors.
    “That’s him,” said Bors, “that’s the bastard who almost crippled me, Uncle Dren.”
    “Did he now,” said the big man. Kormak studied him seeing a premonition of what Bors would look like if he lived another twenty years. His nose had been broken. His features were larded with fat. There were a few broken veins in his cheeks. His gut was enormous. He looked strong though and he looked competent, and those with him looked like they would follow his lead.
    Kill him first, Kormak thought, if it comes to it.
    The big man moved closer, somewhat slowed by the snow underfoot. His smile revealed yellow teeth but there was no humour in his eyes. “What you got to say for yourself, stranger?”
    A group of warriors blocked the entrance to the courtyard. The rest moved to encircle Kormak. The merchants were already diving for cover, pulling down shutters, closing doors. They clearly knew how such things could get out of hand. Kormak could see faces looking down from the windows above. Some folks were closing their shutters up there too. Most simply looked curious.
    “There’s no need for trouble,” Kormak said.
    “That’s what he said when he sided with that cat-eating bastard Jan,” said Bors. “Then he almost killed two of us. Be careful with him, he’s a tricky bastard.”
    “It’ll take more than tricks to get the better of a dozen men,” said Dren. Kormak noticed there were rats skittering along the walls above them. They seemed to be everywhere in Vermstadt. He looked at the bricked off exit to the courtyard again. With a run he might be able to pull himself up over it but that would mean turning his back on this gang of armed men, and that was not a thing he was prepared to do under the circumstances.
    “What? You planning on killing me for stopping a gang of thugs picking on a kid?” Kormak asked.
    “Can’t allow disrespect to the Krugman banner,” said Dren. “Can’t allow a nephew of mine almost have his fingers broken either. Not without doing something about it. How about I just break your fingers and we call it quits?”
    “Which hand?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “My right hand is my sword hand.”
    “That’s the hand he stood on,” said Bors. “Stomp it.”
    The men with Dren looked as if they were getting restless. They wanted to have some fun. This was not a situation that was going to be contained, Kormak thought. It was a pity.
    “What can I say?” said Dren. “You