A long time had passed and nothing had happened. The Taken were not pleased. Neither was Elmo. He dragged me into his quarters. "Were the hell did Raven go,Croaker?"
"I don't know," I told him. As if he were the only one disturbed. I was scared and getting more so by the day. "I want to know. Soon."
"Look, man. Goblin's done everything but torture people trying to pick up his trail. He flat vanished. He got wind of us somehow."
"How? Will you tell me how? We've been here half our lives, it seems like. And nobody else down there has noticed. Why should Raven be any different?"
"Because we were around looking for him. He must have spotted one of us."
"If he did, I want to know that. You hike on down there and light a fire under Goblin's ass. Hear?"
"Right. Whatever you say, boss." Though he commanded the advance party, technically I outranked Elmo. But I was not about to press for prerogatives at the moment. There was too much tension in the air.
There was stress throughout Duretile, and I did not understand most of it. I remained on the periphery of the Taken's study of the black castle. Just another messenger boy, a foot-slogger bringing in data from the city. I hadn't the slightest notion what they had discovered by direct examination. Or even if they were studying the castle directly. They could be lying back, afraid they would alert the Dominator to their presence.
One of the men located me in Elmo's quarters. "Whisper wants you, Croaker."
I jumped a foot. Guilty conscience. "What for?" I had not seen her for weeks.
"You'll have to go see. She didn't say." He sneered, hoping he would see an officer in the soup. He figured I was in trouble.
He figured that; so did I. I dawdled as much as I dared, but eventually had to present myself. Whisper glared at me as i entered. "You people haven't found a damned thing down there. What are you doing? Dogging it? Taking a vacation? Well, say something." "I. . . ."
"Do you know the black castle stopped growing after our raid on the Crater group? No? Why not? You're supposed to be finding out these things." "None of the prisoners accounted for the. ..." "I know that. I know none of them knew who the main body supplier was. But that supplier must have known them. He packed up. There have been just two bodies delivered since. The latest just last night. Why didn't you know that? Why have you got people in the Buskin? They seem incapable of learning anything."
Oh, she was in a mood. I said, "Is the deadline close or something? The way I understood it, we wouldn't be in trouble if only a few bodies were delivered."
"True. As far as it goes. But we've reached a point where a handful might make all the difference."
I bit my lower lip, tried to look properly chastised, and waited.
She told me: "The Lady is pressing. She's very nervous. She wants something to happen up here."
So. As always, the shit rolls downhill. The normal course would be for me to go out and tromp on somebody below me.
"Half the problem is, we don't know what's going on.
If you claim you know what the castle is, how it's growing and so forth, how come you don't go over and kick it down? Or turn it into grape preserves or something?''
"It's not that simple."
It never is. I tend to overlook political ramifications. I am not politically minded.
"Maybe once the rest of your company gets here. The city will have to be controlled. The Duke and his incompetents couldn't manage that."
I stood there looking expectant. Sometimes that will con people into telling you more than they plan.
"The city will go up in flames if it's not buttoned up tight when the truth comes out. Why do you think the Custodians are so determined to keep the Catacombs thing hushed? Several thousand citizens have relatives who went into that monstrosity. That's a lot of people who'll get very irate about the souls of loved ones being lost."
"I see." I did a little. It took a certain willing suspension of reason, though.
"We're going at this from a different angle," she told me. "I'm taking charge of your investigations. Report to me daily. I'll decide what you're going to do, and how.
Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am." Only too well. It was going to get that much more difficult to keep her and Raven apart.
"The first thing you'll do is set a watch on the castle. And if that doesn't shake something loose, I'll send Feather down there. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am." Again, only too well.
I wondered if Whisper suspected we were working at cross-purposes.
"You can leave. I'll expect you back tomorrow. With something to report." "Yes, ma'am."
I went straight back to Elmo, fuming. He should have faced her, not me. Just because I'd sort of taken over.
I was with Elmo barely long enough to tell him what had happened when a messenger came from Bullock. He wanted to see me right away.
Bullock was another problem. I'd become convinced he was smarter than he put on, and was almost as sure that he suspected we were up to more than we admitted.
I eased into his cubicle in the secret police headquarters. "What's up?"
"I've made a little headway on the Catacombs raid. Result of pure stubborn footwork."
"Well?" I felt pretty curt about then, and he raised an eyebrow. "Just had a face-to-face with my boss," I told him, which was as near an apology as I cared to come. "What have you got?"
"A name."
I waited. Like Elmo, Bullock liked to be coaxed. I was in no mood to play that game.
"I followed up your notion about rented wagons. Turned up the name Asa. A wood-gatherer named Asa was, probably, working through the hole I showed you. A man named Asa spent a number of old coins, but before the raid on the Catacombs. A man named Asa worked for Krage before he and his men disappeared. Everywhere I go, it's Asa-this or Asa-that."
"Anything to connect him with the black castle?"
"No. I don't think he's a principal in anything. But he must know something."
I thought back. Bullock had mentioned this name once before, referring to a man who hung around the same place as Raven. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe I ought to find this Asa before anybody else did.
"I'm headed down to the Buskin," I said. "Direct orders from her holiness. I'll have Goblin round the guy up."
Bullock scowled. There had been some ill will when he found out that we had put men into the Buskin without consulting him. "AH right. But don't play any more fast shuffle with me, eh? Your people and mine aren't after the same things, but that's no reason to undermine each other, eh?"
"You're right. We're just used to doing things different. I'll see you when I get back."
"I'd appredate that." He eyed me in a way that.said he did not trust me anymore. If ever he had. I left thinking the Company and I were into it deep. Trouble on every hand. Juggling with too many balls in the air. Only we were juggling knives with poisoned edges.
I hustled on down and looked up Goblin, told him about our escalating troubles. He was no happier than Elmo or I.
Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not believe it, or did not care.
Then Bullock's sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his nerves and guilt, went to the man's table. "How may we serve you, Reverend Sir?"
"Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord."
Shed lifted an eyebrow. "Sir?"
"I'll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give away meals."
"Ain't it the truth, sir. Ain't it the truth."
When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed, "You seem to be doing well, landlord."
Shed snorted. "We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things. That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp before it gets away." He donned his sourest face.
The Inquisitor nodded. "Leave the bottle. Let the Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity."
"I'll ask no profit, Reverend Sir."
"Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone else."
Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left him stuck with several.
When Shed delivered the meal, the Inquisitor suggested,"Bring a mug and join me."
Shed's nerves twisted as tight as a bowstring. Something was wrong. They had caught on. "As you wish, Reverend Sir." He dragged over and collected his own mug. It was dusty. He had not done much drinking lately, afraid his tongue would wag.
"Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You haven't done anything. Have you? I don't even know your name."
"Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been in my family for three generations.''
"Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling by the wayside nowadays."
"As you say, Reverend Sir."
"I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won't you calm down?"
"How may I help you, Reverend Sir?"
"I'm looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a regular here."
"So he was, sir," Shed admitted. "I knew him well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring wood for the fire."
The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth. He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of
The Custodians.
"Do you know where he acquired the wood?"
Shed pretended acute embarrassment. "He collected itin the Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It wasn't against the law. But it seemed reprehensible anyway." The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. "No failing on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn't discourage gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too seedy."
"Why are you looking for Asa, then?"
"I understand he worked for a man named Krage."
"Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it didn't last."
"So I heard. It's the timing of their falling-out that intrigues me."
"Sir?"
"Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa, about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage urns."
Shed tried to look properly horrified. "Krage and Asa did that?"
"Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa had any conscience."
"Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he wasn't doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he never did anything very well. But that doesn't invalidate your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a lot."
"What was the relationship between Asa and Raven?"
"There wasn't any."
"Where is Raven now?"
"He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the harbor.''
The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. "What became of Krage?"
"Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It's one of the great mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he wasn't. There were all kinds of rumors."
"Could he have left Juniper, too?"
"Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn't tell anybody. The people who worked for him don't know anything, either."
"Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?"
Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. "I don't. ... I don't understand what you're asking, sir."
"Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect a sum of gold may have been involved."
Shed gaped. He hadn't seen any gold. The man was lying. Why? Laying traps?
"It was a major plundering operation. We'd very much like to ask Asa some questions."
"I can imagine." Shed bit his lip. He thought hard. "Sir, I can't tell you what became of Krage. But I think Asa took ship for the south." He went into a long song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the South. "I never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him." "Do you recall what ship?"
"Sir?"
"What ship did he take?"
"I didn't actually see him board a ship, sir. I just assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in trouble. I guess he's in trouble now,eh?"
"Maybe. The evidence isn't conclusive. But I'm morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn't see Krage on the dock, did you?"
"No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to see the first ships off. It's like a holiday." Was the Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn't somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black castle.
The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. "I was afraid you'd tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no choice."
Shed's heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run for it.
"I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock or I will have to go after those people. Guess who'll get stuck?"
Relief swamped Shed. "Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the law down there doesn't recognize the Brotherhood's right. . . ."
"Won't be easy, will it? The barbarians just don't understand us." He poured some wine, stared into it for a long while. Finally, he said, "Thank you, Marron Shed. You've been very helpful."
Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. "Anything else, Reverend Sir?"
"Wish me luck."
"Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very evening."
The Inquisitor nodded. "Thank you." He resumed staring into his mug.
He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up with Asa?
"I think I was pretty slick," I told Goblin.
"You should have seen that Shed," Pawnbroker cackled. "A chicken sweating like a pig and lying like a dog. A one-man barnyard."
"Was he really lying?" I mused. "He didn't say anything that conflicted with what we know."
"What did you learn?" Goblin asked.
"I think he was lying," Pawnbroker insisted. "Maybe by not telling everything he knew, but he was lying. He was into it somehow."
"You keep hanging around the Lily, then. Keep an eye on him."
"What did you learn?" Goblin demanded.
Elmo came in. "How'd it go?"
"Great," I said. "I found out what happened to Raven."
"What?" he and Goblin both demanded.
"He left town. By ship. The first day the harbor was open."
"Darling, too?" Goblin asked. "You see her around? What do you think?" Pawnbroker mused, "Bet that Asa went with him. Old Shed said they both left the first day."
"Could be. I was proud of myself, catching him with that. Looks to me, now, like this Shed is our only outside loose end. He's the only one who knows what happened to them. No Shed, nobody to maybe tell Bullock or the Taken anything."
Elmo frowned. The suggestion was more in keeping with his style than mine. He thought I'd put it forward seriously. "I don't know. Sounds too simple. Anyway, we're starting to get noticed down there, aren't we?"
Goblin nodded. "We're supposed to be sailors who missed our ship, but people are comparing notes, trying to figure us out. If Shed got killed, there might be enough fuss to get Bullock wondering. If he gets wondering, sooner or later the news would get back to the Taken. I figure we ought to save heroic measures for heroic circumstances."
Pawnbroker agreed. "That Shed's got something to hide. I know that in my guts. Croaker told him about the raid on the Catacombs. He hardly blinked. Anybody else would have whooped off and spread the news like the plague." "Kingpin still watching him?" I asked. "Him and Sharkey and Tickle are taking turns. He ain't going to be able to pool without we know about it."
"Good. Keep it that way. But don't mess with him. We just want to keep him away from Bullock and the Taken." I faded away into my thoughts. "What?" Elmo finally asked.
"I had an idea while I was talking to Shed. Bullock is our main risk, right? And we know he'll stick like a bulldog once he gets on a trail. And he's on the trail of this Asa character. So why don't we con him into going south after this Asa?"
"I don't know," Elmo muttered. "He might find him." "What's he want him for? Questioning about a raid on the Catacombs. What kind of cooperation is he going to get someplace else? Not much. Way I hear it, the cities down the coast think Juniper is a bad joke. Anyway, we just want to buy a little time. And if he does catch up with Asa, I figure he catches up with Raven, too. Ain't nobody going to bring Raven back. Not if he thinks the Taken are after Darling. They tangle, I'll put my money on Raven. Cut out the only source of info. Temporarily or permanently. See what I mean? And if he does kill Raven,then Raven can't talk."
"How you going to talk Bullock into it?" Elmo asked. "It's dumb, Croaker. He's not going to go haring off after some minor suspect." "Yes, he will. You remember, when we came here, he had to translate? How do you figure he learned the lan-guage of the Jewel Cities? I asked him. He spent three years there looking for a guy who wasn't any more important than Asa.''
Goblin said, "This mess gets crazier every day. We got so many cons and lies going I can't keep track of them anymore. I don't think we better do anything except cover our asses till the Captain gets here."
I often had a feeling we were making things worse. But I could see no exit, other than to keep coping and hoping.
"Best way out," Elmo observed laconically, "would be to kill everybody who knows anything, then all of us fall on our swords."
"Sounds a little extreme," Goblin opined. "But if you want to go first, I'm right behind you."
"I've got to report in to Whisper," I said. "Anybody got any brilliant ideas what I should tell her?"
Nobody did. I went, dreading the encounter. I was sure guilt smouldered in my eyes whenever I faced her. I resented Elmo because he did not have to endure her daily fits of ire.
Bullock was almost too easy. He was packing almost before I finished handing him my line of bull. He wanted that Asa bad.
I wondered if he knew something we did not. Or if he'd just worked up an obsession with the mystery of the invaded Catacombs.
Whisper was more of a problem.
She told me: "I want you to send somebody with him." I had had to tell her something, so had told her most of the truth. I figured the chances of anybody tracking Asa and Raven were nil. But. . . . She seemed a little too interested,too. Perhaps she knew more than she pretended. She was, after all, one of the Taken.
Elmo picked three men, put Kingpin in charge, and told him to stick a knife in Bullock if he looked like needing it.
The Captain and Company were, I was told, in the Wolander Mountains a hundred miles from Juniper. They faced a slow passage through tough passes, but I began to anticipate their arrival. Once the Old Man showed, the weight would be off Elmo and me. "Hurry," I muttered, and returned to tangling our skein of deceits.
Matron Shed fell in love. In love in the worst possible way-with a woman far younger, who had tastes far beyond his means. He charged into the affair with all the reserve of a bull in rut, disdaining consequences, squandering his cash reserve as though it came from a bottomless box. His boxes dried up. Two weeks after he met Sue, he made a loan with Gilbert, the moneylender. Another loan followed that, then another. Within a month he had gone into debt farther than he had been during the winter.
And he did not care. The woman made him happy, and that was that. Compounding his negative attributes was a tendency toward willful stupidity and an unconscious confidence that money could be no problem ever again.
Wally's wife Sal visited the Lily one morning, grim and slightly ashamed. "Marron," she said, "can we talk?" "What's the matter?"
"You were going to help with rent and stuff." "Sure. So what's the problem?" "Well, I don't want to sound ungrateful or like I have any right to expect you to support us, but our landlord is threatening to throw us out on account of the rent hasn't been paid for two weeks. We can't get work on account of nobody is putting out any sewing right now."
"The rent isn't paid? But I saw him just the other day. . . ." It hadn't been just the other day. He had forgotten. His mother, too. Her servants' salaries would be due in a few days. Not to mention Lisa's. "Oh my," he said. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I'll take care of it."
"Shed, you've been good to us. You didn't have to be. I don't like seeing you get into this kind of mess."
"What kind of mess?"
"With that woman. She's trying to destroy you."
He was too puzzled to become angry. "Sue? Why? How?"
"Give her up. It'll hurt less if you break it off. Everybody knows what she's doing."
"What's she doing?" Shed's voice was plaintive.
"Never mind. I said more than I should already. If there's ever anything we can do for you, let us know."
"I will. I will," he promised. He went upstairs, to his hidden cash box, and found it barren.
There was not a gersh in the place, upstairs or down. What was going on? "Lisa. Where's all the money?"
"I hid it."
"What?"
"I hid it. The way you're carrying on, you're going to lose this place. You have a legitimate expense, tell me. I'll cover it."
Shed goggled. He sputtered. "Who the hell do you think you are, girl?"
"The girl who's going to keep you in business in spite of yourself. The girl who's going to stop you from being a complete fool with Gilbert's woman."
"Gilbert's?"
"Yes. What did you think was going on?"
"Get out," Shed snapped. "You don't work here anymore."
Lisa shrugged. "If that's what you want."
"Where's the money?"
"Sorry. Come see me when you get your common sense back."
Shed raged around the common room. His customers clapped, egging him on. He threatened. He cajoled. Nothing worked. Lisa remained adamant. "It's my family!" he protested.
"You go prove that woman isn't Gilbert's whore. Then I'll give you the money and walk."
"I'll do that."
"What if I'm right?"
"You're not. I know her."
"You don't know shit. You're infatuated. What if I'm right?"
He was incapable of entertaining the possibility. "I don't care."
"All right. If I'm right, I want to run things here. You let me get us out of debt,"
Shed bobbed his head once and stormed out. He was not risking anything. She was wrong.
What was her game? She was acting like a partner or something. Like his mother had, after his father died and before she lost her sight. Treating him like he did not have twice her experience of business and the world.
He wandered for half an hour. When he came up from his melancholy, he saw he was near Sailmakers' Hall. Hell. He was there; he'd just go see Gilbert. Make a loan so he could see Sue that night. Little bitch Lisa could hide his money, maybe, but she couldn't keep him away from Gilbert.
Half a block later he began to suffer conscience pangs. Too many people depended upon him. He shouldn't make his financial situation worse.
"Damned woman," he muttered. "Shouldn't talk to me that way. Now she's got me doubting everybody." He leaned against a wall and fought his conscience. Sometimes lust pulled ahead, sometimes the urge toward responsibility. He ached for Sue. ... He should not need money if she really loved him. . . .
"What?" he said aloud. He looked again. His eyes had not deceived him. That was Sue stepping into Gilbert's place.
His stomach sank like a falling rock. "No. She couldn't. . . . There must be an explanation."
But his traitor mind started cataloguing little oddities about their relationship, particularly mauling her penchant for spending. A low-grade anger simmered over the fire of his hurt. He slipped across the street, hurried into the alley leading behind Gilbert's place. Gilbert's office was in the back. It had an alley window. Shed did not expect that to be open. He did hope to sneak a peek.
The window was not open, but he could hear. And the sounds of lovemaking in no way approximated what he wanted to hear.
He considered killing himself on the spot. Considered killing himself on Sue's doorstep. Considered a dozen other dramatic protests. And knew none would move either of these villains.
They began talking. Their chatter soon killed Shed's hold-out doubts. The name Marron Shed came up.
"He's ready," the woman said. "I've taken him as far as I can. Maybe one more loan before he starts remembering his family."
"Do it, then. I want him wrapped up. Make the hill steep, then grease it. He got away from Krage."
Shed shook with anger.
"How far down do you have him?"
"Eighteen leva, and nearly another ten in interest."
"I can work him for another five."
"Do it. I have a buyer hot to go."
Shed left. He wandered the Buskin for hours. He looked so grim people crossed the street. There is no vengeance as terrible as the vengeance a coward plots in the dark of his heart.
Late that afternoon Shed strolled into Gilbert's office, all emotion locked back in the shadows he had discovered the night he had run with Krage's hunters. "I need fifteen leva, Gilbert. In a hurry."
Gilbert was startled. His one eye opened wide. "Fifteen? What the hell for?"
"I've set up a sweet deal, but I have to close it tonight. I'll go a couple extra points if you want."
"Shed, you're into me big now. I'm worried about you covering that."
"This deal goes off and I can clear it all."
Gilbert stared. "What's up, Shed?"
"Up?"
"You're awful sure of yourself."
Shed told the lie that hurt most. "I'm going to get married, Gilbert. Going to ask the lady tonight. I want to close this deal so I can make the Lily over into a decent place for her."
"Well," Gilbert breathed. "Well, well, well. Matron Shed getting married. Interesting. All right, Shed. It's not good business, but I'll take a chance. Fifteen, you said?"
"Thank you, Mr. Gilbert. I'm really grateful. ..."
"You sure you can meet the payments?"
"I'll have you ten leva before the end of the week. Guaranteed. And with Sue helping out at the Lily, I'll have no problem clearing enough to cover the rest."
Gilbert controlled a thin smile. "Then you won't mind putting up collateral more valuable than your word?"
"Sir?"
"I want a lien on the Iron Lily."
Shed pretended to think hard. Finally: "All right. She's worth the risk."
Gilbert smiled the smile of a hungry stoat, but managed to look worried at the same time. "Wait here. I'll have a note drawn up and get the money."
Shed smiled nastily as Gilbert departed.
Shed pulled his rig into the alleyway behind Sue's place, raced around front, pounded on the door. It was a class place for the Buskin. A man guarded the entrance from within. Eight women lived there, each in her own apartment. Each in the same business as Sue. Each commanding a substantial premium for her time.
"Hello, Mr. Shed," the door guard said. "Go on up. She's expecting you."
Shed tipped him, something he hadn't done before. The man became obsequious. Shed ignored him, mounted the stair.
Now came the difficult part. Playing cow-eyed lover when he was no longer blind. But he would fool her, just as she had fooled him.
She answered the door, radiantly beautiful. Shed's heart climbed into his throat. He shoved something into her hand. "This is for you."
"Oh, Marron, you shouldn't have." But, if he hadn't, he would not have gotten past her door. "What a strange necklace. Are these serpents?"
"Real silver," he said. "And rubies. It caught my fancy. Ugly, but the craftsmanship is superb."
"I think it's gorgeous, Marron. How much did it cost?"
"Too much," Shed replied, smiling sardonically. "I couldn't tell you. More than I should have paid for anything."
Sue did not press. "Come here, Marron." She must have had orders to play him carefully. Usually she gave him a hard time before surrendering. She began disrobing. Shed went. He took her rough, something he had not done before. Then he took her again. When it was over, she asked, "What's gotten into you?"
"I have a big surprise for you. A big surprise. I know you'll love it. Can you sneak out without anyone knowing?" "Of course. But why?"
"That's the surprise. Will you do it? You won't be disappointed, I promise." "I don't understand."
"Just do it. Slip out a few minutes after I leave. Meet me in the alley. I want to take you somewhere and show you something. Be sure to wear the necklace."
"What are you up to?" She seemed amused, not suspicious.
Good, Shed thought. He finished dressing. "No answers now, darling. This will be the biggest surprise of your life. I don't want to spoil it." He headed for the door. "Five minutes?" she called. "Don't make me wait. I'm a bear when I have to wait. And don't forget the necklace." "I won't, dear."
Shed waited nearly fifteen minutes. He grew impatient, but was certain greed would bring Sue out. The hook was set. She was playing with him.
"Marron?" Her voice was soft and musical. His heart twisted. How could he do this?
"Here, love." She came to him. He enfolded her in his arms.
"Now, now. Enough of that. I want my surprise. I can hardly wait."
Shed took a deep breath. Do it! he yelled inside. "I'll help you up." She turned. Now! But his hands were made of lead.
"Come on, Marron."
He swung. Sue slammed into the wagon, a mewl the only sound she made. He hit her again as she bounced back. She sagged. He took a gag from the wagon, forced it into her mouth before she could scream, then tied her hands quickly. She began kicking when he went for her ankles. He kicked her back, nearly let anger carry him away.
She quit fighting. He finished binding her, then propped her on the wagon seat. In the darkness they looked like man and wife about some late business.
He did not speak till they were across the Port. "You're probably wondering what's going on, darling."
Sue grunted. She was pale and frightened. He retrieved his amulet. While he was at it, he stripped her of jewelry and valuables.
"Sue, I loved you. I really did. I would have done anything for you. When you kill a love like that, you turn it into a big hatred." At least twenty leva worth of jewelry, he guessed. How many men had she destroyed? "Working for Gilbert like that. Trying to steal the Lily. Anything else I could have forgiven. Anything."
He talked all the way up the hill. It distracted her till the black castle loomed so large it could no longer be overlooked. Then her eyes got huge. She began to shake, to stink as she lost all control.
"Yes, darling," Shed said, voice pleasantly rational, conversational. "Yes. The black castle. You were going to deliver me to the mercy of your friends. You made a bet and lost. Now I deliver you to mine." He halted, climbed down, went to the gate. It opened immediately.
The tall being met him, wringing spidery hands. "Good," it said. "Very good. Your partner never brought healthy game."
Shed's guts knotted. He wanted to change his mind. He only wanted to hurt and humiliate Sue. . . . But it was too late. He could not turn back. "I'm sorry, Sue. You shouldn't have done it. You and Gilbert. His turn will come. Marron Shed isn't what everybody thinks."
A whining noise came from behind Sue's gag. Shed turned away. He had to get out. He faced the tall creature.
It began counting coins directly into his hand.
As always, Shed did not barter. In fact, he did not look at the money, just kept stuffing his pockets. His attention was on the darkness behind the creature.
More of its kind were back there, hissing, jostling. Shed recognized the short one he'd dealt with once.
The tall being stopped counting. Absently, Shed put the coins into a pocket, returned to his wagon. The things in shadow swept forward, seized Sue, began ripping her clothing. One yanked the gag out of her mouth. Shed started packing his rig.
"For God's sake, Marron. Don't leave me."
"It's done, woman. It's done." He snapped his traces.
"Back up, mules."
She started screaming as he turned toward the gate. He did not look. He did not want to know. "Keep moving, mules."
"Come again soon, Marron Shed," the tall creature called after him.
The summons from Whisper caught me unprepared. It was too early for the daily report. I'd barely finished breakfast. I knew it meant trouble. I was not disappointed.
The Taken prowled like a caged animal, radiating tension and anger. I went inside by the numbers, stood at a perfect attention, giving no excuse for the picking of nits-in case whatever it was was not my fault.
She ignored me for several minutes, working off energy. Then she seated herself, stared at her hands thoughtfully. Her gaze rose. And she was in complete control. She actually smiled. Had she been as beautiful as the Lady, that smile would have melted granite. But she was what she was, a scarred old campaigner, so a smile only ameliorated the grimness of her face.
"How were the men disposed last night?" she asked. Baffled, I responded, "Excuse me? You mean their temper?"
"Where were they stationed?"
"Oh." That was properly Elmo's province, but I knew better than to say so. The Taken do not tolerate excuses, sound though they may be. "The three men on the ship south with Bullock, looking for that man Asa." I worried about her having sent them. When I do not understand the motives of the Taken, I get paranoid. "Five down in the Buskin pretending to be foreign sailors. Three more down there watching people we've found especially interesting. I'd have to double-check with Elmo to be positive, but at least four more were in other parts of the city, trying to pick up something of interest. The rest of us were here in the castle, off duty. Wait. One man would have been down in the Duke's secret police office, and two would have been at the Enclosure, hanging around with the Custodians. I was with the Inquisitors most of the night, picking their brains. We're scattered pretty thin right now. I'll be glad when the Captain gets here. We've got too much going for the available manpower. The occupation planning is way behind."
She sighed, rose, resumed pacing. "My fault as much as anyone's, I suppose." She looked out a window for a long time. Then she beckoned. I joined her.
She indicated the black castle. "Just whiskers short. They're trying to open the way for the Dominator already. It's not yet time, but they're getting hurried. Maybe they've sensed our interest."
This Juniper business was like some giant, tentacled sea beast from a sailor's lie. No matter where we turned or what we did, we got deeper into trouble. By working at cross-purposes with the Taken, trying to cover an increasingly more obvious trail, we were complicating their efforts to deal with the peril of the black castle. If we did cover well, we just might make it possible for the Dominator to emerge into an unprepared world.
I did not want that horror upon my conscience.
Though I fear I tend not to record it that way, we were embroiled in substantial moral quandaries. We are not accustomed to such problems. The lot of the mercenary does not require much moralizing or making of moral decisions. Essentially, the mercenary sets morality aside, or at best reorders the customary structures to fit the needs of his way of life. The great issues become how well he does his job, how faithfully he carries out his commission, how well he adheres to a standard demanding unswerving loyalties to his comrades. He dehumanizes the world outside the bounds of his outfit. Then anything he does, or witnesses, becomes of minor significance as long as its brunt is borne outside the Company.
We had drifted into a trap where we might have to face the biggest choice in the Company's history. We might have to betray four centuries of Company mythos on behalf of the greater whole.
I knew I could not permit the Dominator to restore himself, if that turned out to be the only way we could keep the Lady from finding out about Darling and Raven.
Yet. . . . The Lady was not much better. We served her, and, till lately, well and faithfully, obliterating the Rebel wherever we found him, but I don't think many of us were indifferent to what she was. She was less evil than the Dominator only because she was less determined about it, more patient in her drive for total and absolute control.
That presented me with another quandary. Was I capable of sacrificing Darling to prevent the Dominator's return? If that became the price?
"You seem very thoughtful," Whisper said.
"Uhm. There're too many angles to this business. The Custodians. The Duke. Us. Bullock, who has axes of his own to grind." I had told her about Bullock's Buskin origins, feeding her seemingly irrelevant information to complicate and distract her thinking.
She pointed again. "Didn't I suggest a close watch be kept on that place?"
"Yes, ma'am. We did for a while, too. But nothing ever happened, and then we were told to do some other things. ..." I broke off, quaking with a sudden nasty suspicion.
She read my face. "Yes. Last night. And this delivery was still alive."
"Oh boy," I murmured. "Who did it? You know?"
"We just sensed the consequent changes. They tried to open the way. They weren't strong enough yet, but they came very close."
She began to prowl. Mentally, I ticked off the roster for the Buskin last night. I was going to ask some very pointed questions.
"I consulted the Lady directly. She's very worried. Her orders are to let ancillary business slide. We're to prevent any more bodies reaching the castle. Yes, the rest of your Company will be here soon. From six to ten days. And there is much to be done to prepare for their arrival. But, as you observed, there is too much to do and too few to do it. Let your Captain cope when he arrives. The black castle must be isolated."
"Why not fly some men in?"
"The Lady has forbidden that."
I tried to look perplexed. "Buy why?" I had a sweating, fearful suspicion that I knew.
Whisper shrugged. "Because she doesn't want you wasting time making hellos and briefing newcomers. Go see what can be done about isolating the castle."
"Yes, ma'am."
I departed, thinking it had gone both better and worse than I had anticipated. Better, because she did not throw one of her screaming rages. Worse, because she had in effect announced that we who were here already were suspect, that we might have succumbed to a moral infection the Lady did not want communicated to our brethren.
Scary.
"Yeah," Elmo said when I told him. He did not need it explained. "Which means we got to make contact with the Old Man."
"Messenger?"
"What else? Who can we break loose and cover?"
"One of the men from the Buskin."
Elmo nodded. "I'll handle that. You go ahead and figure how to isolate the castle with the manpower we have."
"Why don't you go scout the castle? I want to find out what those guys were doing last night."
"That's neither here nor there now, Croaker. I'm taking over. Not saying you done a bad job, just you didn't get it done. Which is my fault, really. I'm the soldier."
"Being a soldier won't make any difference, Elmo. This isn't soldier's work. It's spy stuff. And spies need time to worm into the fabric of a society. We haven't had enough of that."
"Time is up now. Isn't that what you said?"
"I guess," I admitted. "All right. I'll scout the castle. But you find out what went on down there last night. Especially around that placed called the Iron Lily. It keeps turning up, just like that guy Asa."
All the while we talked, Elmo was changing. Now he looked like a sailor down on his luck, too old to ship, but still tough enough for dirty work. He would fit right in down in the Buskin. I told him so.
"Yeah. Let's get moving. And don't plan on getting much sleep till the Captain gets here."
We looked at one another, not saying what lay in the backs of our minds. If the Taken did not want us in touch with our brethren, what might they do when the Company hove in sight, coming out of the Wolanders?
Up close, the black castle was both intriguing and unsettling. I took a horse over, circled the place several times, even flipped a cheerful wave at the one movement I detected atop its glassy ramparts.
There was some difficult ground behind it-steep, rocky, overgrown with scraggly, thorny brush which had a sagey odor. Nobody lugging a corpse would reach the fortress from that direction. The ground was better along the ridgeline to east and west, but even there an approach was improbable. Men of the sort who sold corpses would do things the easy way. That meant using the road which ran from the Port River waterfront, through the scatter of merchant class houses on the middle slopes, and just kept on to the castle gate. Someone had followed that course often, for wheel ruts ran from the end of the road to the castle.
My problem was, there was no place a squad could lie in wait without being seen from the castle wall. It took me till dusk to finalize my plan.
I found an abandoned house a ways down the slope and a little upriver. I would conceal my squad there and post sentries down the road, in the populated area. They could run a message to the rest of us if they saw anything suspicious. We could hustle up and across the slope to intercept potential body-sellers. Wagons would be slow enough to allow us the time needed.
Old Croaker is a brilliant strategist. Yes, sir. I had my troops in place and everything set by midnight. And had two false alarms before breakfast. I learned the embarrassing way that there was legitimate night traffic past my sentry post.
I sat in the old house with my team, alternately playing tonk and worrying, and on rare occasions napping. And wondering a lot about what was happening down in the Buskin and across the valley in Duretile.
I prayed Elmo could keep his fingers on all the strings.
Shed spent an entire day lying in his room, staring at the ceiling, hating himself. He had sunk as low as a man could. There was no deed too foul for him anymore, and nothing more he could do to blacken his soul. A million-leva passage fee could not buy him aboard on Passage Day. His name had to be written in the Black Book with those of the greatest villains.
"Mr. Shed?" Lisa said from the doorway next morning, as he was contemplating another day of ceiling study and self-pity. "Mr. Shed?"
"Yeah?"
"Bo and Lana are here."
Bo and Lana, with a daughter, were his mother's servants. "What do they want?"
"Their accounts settled for the month, I expect."
"Oh." He got up.
Lisa stopped him at the head of the stair. "I was right about Sue, wasn't I?"
"You were."
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said anything if we could have afforded it."
"We? What do you mean, we? Oh, hell. Never mind. Forget about it. I don't want to hear about it anymore."
"Whatever you say. But I'm going to hold you to your promise."
"What promise?"
"To let me manage the Lily."
"Oh. All right." At that moment he did not care. He collected the monthly accounting from the servants. He had chosen them well. They were not cheating him. He suggested they deserved a small bonus.
He returned upstairs for the money. Lisa watched him go, perplexed. He realized his mistake too late. Now she wondered why he had money today when he'd had none yesterday. He located his dirty clothing, emptied his pockets onto his bed. And gasped.
"Oh, damn! Damn," he muttered. "What the hell am I going to do with three gold pieces?"
There was silver, too, and even a fistful of copper, but. ... It was a gyp! A fortune he could not spend. Juniper law made it illegal for commoners to hold minted gold. Even incoming foreigners had to exchange theirs for silver-though foreign silver was as welcome as local. Lucky, too, for the black castle mintage was a decidedly odd coinage, though in the standard weights.
How could he get rid of the gold? Sell it to some ship captain headed south? That was the usual procedure. He slipped it into his most secret hiding place, with the amulet from the black castle. A useless fortune. He assessed the remainder.
Twenty-eight pieces of silver, plus several leva in copper. Enough to take care of his mother and Sal. Way short of enough to pry Gilbert off his back. "Still be in the damned money trap," he whined.
He recalled Sue's jewelry, smiled nastily, muttered, "I'll do it." He pocketed everything, returned to the ground floor, paid his mother's servants, told Lisa, "I'm going out for a while."
First he made sure Wally's family was cared for, then ambled down toward Gilbert's place. No one seemed to be around. Gilbert was not like Krage, in that he felt he needed an army on hand, but he did have his bone-breakers. They were all away. But someone was in Gilbert's office because lamplight illuminated the curtains. He smiled thoughtfully, then hustled back to the Lily. He went to a table back in the shadows, near where Raven used to sit. A couple of foreign sailors were seated there. Tough merchandise if he'd ever seen it. They'd been around for some time.They said they and their friends, who came and went, had missed their ship. They were waiting for another. Shed could not recall having heard the name of their home port.
"You men like to pick up some easy money?" he asked.
"Who doesn't?" one responded.
And the other, "What you got in mind?"
"I have a little problem. I've got to do some business with a man. He's liable to get vicious."
"Want some back-up, eh?"
Shed nodded.
The other sailor looked at him narrowly. "Who is he?"
"Name's Gilbert. A moneylender. You heard of him?"
"Yeah."
"I was just past his place. Don't look like there's anybody there but him."
The men exchanged glances. The taller said, "Tell you what. Let me go get a friend of ours."
"I can't afford a whole army."
"Hey, no problem. You two work out what you'd pay two of us; he'll come along free. Just feel more comfortable having him with us."
"Tough?"
Both men grinned. One winked at the other. "Yeah. Like you wouldn't believe."
"Then get him."
One man left. Shed dickered with the other. Lisa watched from across the room, eyes narrow and hard. Shed decided she was getting too much into his business too fast.
The third man was a frog-faced character barely five feet tall. Shed frowned at him. His fetcher reminded, "He's tough. Remember?"
"Yeah? All right. Let's go." He felt a hundred percent better with three men accompanying him, though he had no real assurance they would help if Gilbert started something.
There were a couple of thugs in the front room when Shed arrived. He told them: "I want to see Gilbert."
"Suppose he don't want to see you?" It was standard tough-guy game-playing. Shed did not know how to respond. One of his companions saved him the worry.
"He don't got much choice, does he? Unless that fat's all muscle in disguise." He produced a knife, began cleaning his nails. The deed was so reminiscent of Raven that Shed was startled.
"He's back in the office." The fat thug exchanged a look with his companion. Shed figured one would run for help.
He started moving. His frog-faced companion said, "I'll just stay out here."
Shed pushed into Gilbert's office. The moneylender had a sack of leva on his desk, was weighing coins one at a time on a fine scale, sorting out those that had been clipped. He looked up angrily. "What the hell is this?"
"Couple of friends wanted to stop by with me and watch how you do business."
"I don't like what this says about our relationship, Shed. It says you don't trust me."
Shed shrugged. "There's some nasty rumors out there. About you and Sue working on me. To do me out of the Lily."
"Sue, eh? Where is she, Shed?"
"There is a connection, eh?" Shed let his face fall. "Damn you. That's why she turned me down. You villain. Now she won't even see me. That ape at the door keeps telling me she isn't there. You arrange that, Mister Gilbert? You know, I don't like you much."
Gilbert gave the lot of them a nasty one-eyed stare. For a moment he seemed to consider his chances. Then the small man ambled in, leaned against the wall, his wide mouth wrinkled into a sneer.
Gilbert said, "You come to talk or to do business? If it's business, get at it. I want these creeps out of here. They'll give the neighborhood a bad name." Shed produced a leather bag. "You have the bad name,
Gilbert. I hear people saying they won't do business with you anymore. They don't think it's right you should try to screw people out of their property."
"Shut up and give me some money, Shed. You just want to whine, get out."
"Sure talks tough for being down four to one," one of the men remarked. A companion admonished him in another language.
Gilbert glared in a way that said he was memorizing faces. The little man grinned and beckoned with one finger. Gilbert decided it could wait.
Shed counted coins. Gilbert's eyes widened as the stack grew. Shed said, "Told you I was working on a deal." He tossed in Sue's jewelry.
One of his companions picked up a bracelet, examined it. "How much do you owe this character?"
Gilbert snapped a figure, which Shed suspected to be inflated.
The sailor observed, "You're shorting yourself, Shed."
"I just want quit of this jackal's lien on my place."
Gilbert stared at the jewelry, pallid, stiff. He licked his lips and reached for a ring. His hand shook.
Shed was both fearful and filled with malicious glee. Gilbert knew the ring. Now maybe he would be a little nervous about messing with Matron Shed. Or he might decide to cut a few throats. Gilbert had some of the same ego problems Krage had had.
"This should more than cover everything, Mr. Gilbert. The big, too. Even with the extra points. Let's have my lien back."
Dully, Gilbert retrieved that from a box on a nearby shelf. His eyes never left the ring.
Shed destroyed the lien immediately. "Don't I still owe you a little something, though, Mr. Gilbert? Yes, I think so. Well, I'll do my best to see you get everything you've got coming."
Gilbert squinted angrily. Shed thought he saw a hint of fear, too. That pleased him. Nobody was ever afraid of Marron Shed, except maybe Asa, who did not count.
Best make his exit, before he stretched his luck. "Thank you, Mr. Gilbert. See you again soon."
Passing through the outer room, he was astonished to find Gilbert's men snoring. The frog-faced man grinned. Outside, Shed paid his guardians. "He wasn't as much trouble as I expected."
"You had us with you," the little man said. "Let's go to your place and have a beer."
One of the others observed, "He looked like he was in shock."
The little man asked, "How'd you ever get that far into a moneylender, anyway?"
"A skirt. I thought I was going to marry her. She was just taking me for my money. I finally woke up."
His companions shook their heads. One said, "Women. Got to watch them, buddy. They'll pick your bones."
"I learned my lesson. Hey. Drinks on the house. I've got some wine I used to keep for a special customer. He left town, so I'm stuck with it."
"That bad, eh?"
"No. That good. Nobody can afford it."
Shed spent his entire evening sipping wine, even after the sailors decided they had business elsewhere. He broke into a grin each time he recalled Gilbert's reaction to the ring. "Got to be careful now," he muttered. "He's as crazy as Krage."
In time the good feeling departed. Fear took over. He'd face anything Gilbert did alone, and he was still very much the same old Shed under the patina left by Raven and a few deals since.
"Ought to haul the bastard up the hill," he muttered into his mug. Then: "Damn! I'm as bad as Raven. Worse. Raven never delivered them alive. Wonder what that bastard is doing now, with his fancy ship and slick young slot?"
He got himself very, very drunk and very, very filled with self-pity.
The last guest went to his bunk. The last outsider went home. Shed sat there nursing his wine and glowering at Lisa, angry with her for no reason he could define. Her body, he thought. Ripe. But she wouldn't. Too good for him. And her pushiness lately. Yeah.
She studied him as she cleaned up. Efficient little witch. Better even than Darling, who had worked hard but hadn't the economy of movement Lisa had. Maybe she did deserve to manage the place. He hadn't done such a great job.
He found her seated opposite him. He glowered. She did not retreat. A hard lass, too. Wouldn't bluff. Didn't scare. Tough Buskin bitch. Be trouble someday.
"What's the matter, Mr. Shed?"
"Nothing."
"I hear you paid Gilbert off. On a loan you took on this place. How could you take a loan on the Lily? It's been in your family for ages."
"Don't give me that sentimental crap. You don't believe it." "Where did you get the money?" "Maybe you shouldn't be so nosy. Maybe nosiness could be bad for your health." He was talking surly and tough but not meaning what he said. "You've been acting strange lately." "I was in love." "That wasn't it. What happened to that, anyway? I hear Sue disappeared. Gilbert says you did her in." "Did what? I was over to her place today." "You see her?"
"No. The door guard said she wasn't home. Which means she didn't want to see me. Probably had somebody else up there."
"Maybe it meant she wasn't home." Shed snorted. "I told you I don't want to talk about her anymore. Understand?"
"Sure. Tell me where you got the money." Shed glared. "Why?"
"Because if there's more, I want a chunk. I don't want to spend my life in the Buskin. I'll do whatever it takes to get out."
Shed smirked.
She misunderstood. "This job is just to keep body and sou] together till I find something."
"A million people have thought that, Lisa. And they've frozen to death in Buskin alleys."
"Some make it. I don't intend to fail. Where did you get the money, Mr. Shed?" She went for a bottle of the good wine. Vaguely, Shed thought it must be about gone. He told her about his silent partner. "That's a crock. I've been here long enough to know that."
"Better believe it, girl." He giggled. "You keep pushing and you're liable to meet him. You won't like him, I guarantee." He recalled the tall creature telling him to hurry back.
"What happened to Sue?"
Shed tried to rise. His limbs were limp. He fell back into his seat. "I'm drunk. Drunker than I thought. Getting out of shape." Lisa nodded gravely. "I loved her. I really loved her. She shouldn't ought to have done that. I would have treated her like a queen. Would have gone into hell for her. Almost did." He chuckled. "Went in with her. . . . Oops.''
"Would you do that for me, Mr. Shed?" "What?"
"You're always trying to get me. What's it worth?" Shed leered. "Don't know. Can't tell till I've tried you."
"You don't have anything to give me, old man."
"Know where to get it, though."
"Where?"
Shed just sat there grinning, a bit of drool trailing from one corner of his mouth.
"I give up. You win. Come on. I'll help you get up the stairs before I go home."
The climb was an epic. Shed was one drink short of passing out. When they reached his room, he just toppled into bed.
"Thanks," he mumbled. "What're you doing?"
"You have to get undressed."
"Guess so." He made no effort to help. "What're you doing now? Why're you grabbing me like that?"
"You want me, don't you?" A moment later she was in the bed with him, rubbing her nakedness against his. He was too drunk to make anything of the situation. He held her, and became maudlin, spouting his trials. She played to it.
Shed sat up so suddenly his head twisted around. Somebody started beating drums inside. He rolled to the edge of the bed and was noisily sick. And then became sick in another way. With terror.
"I told her. I told her the whole damned thing." He tried to jump up. He had to get out of Juniper before the Inquisitors came. He had gold. A foreign captain might take him south. He could catch up with Raven and Asa. . . . He settled onto the cot, too miserable to act. "I'm dying," he muttered. "If there's a hell, this is what it's going to be like."
Had he told her? He thought so. And for nothing. He had gotten nothing. "Marron Shed, you were born to lose. When will you ever learn?"
He rose once more, cautiously, and fumbled through his hiding place. The gold was there. Maybe he hadn't told her everything. He considered the amulet. Lisa could follow the trail blazed by Sue. If she hadn't told anybody yet. But she would be wary, wouldn't she? Be hard to catch her off guard. Even assuming he could find her.
"My head! Gods! I can't think." There was a sudden racket downstairs. "Damn," he muttered. "She left the place unlocked. They'll steal everything." Tears rolled down his cheeks. Such an end he had come to. Maybe that was Bullock and his thugs knocking around down there.
Best to meet his fate. Cursing, he eased into his clothing, began the long journey downstairs.
"Good morning, Mr. Shed," Lisa called brightly. "What will you have for breakfast?"
He stared, gulped, finally stumbled to a table, sat there with his head in his hands, ignoring the amused stare of one of his companions of the Gilbert adventure.
"A little hung over, Mr. Shed?" Lisa asked.
"Yes." His own voice sounded thunderous.
"I'll mix you something my father taught me to make. He's a master drunkard, you know."
Shed nodded weakly. Even that proved painful. Lisa's father was one reason he had hired her. She needed all the help she could get. Another of his charities gone sour.
She returned with something so foul even a sorcerer would not have touched it. "Drink fast. It goes down easier that way."
"I can imagine." Half praying it would poison him, he gulped the malodorous concoction. After gasping for breath, he murmured, "When are they coming? How long do I have?"
"Who, Mr. Shed?"
"The Inquisitors. The law. Whoever you called."
"Why would they come here?"
Painfully, he raised his gaze to meet hers.
She whispered, "I told you I'll do anything to get out of the Buskin. This is the chance I've been looking for. We're partners now, Mr. Shed. Fifty-fifty."
Shed buried his head in his hands and groaned. It would never end. Not till it devoured him. He cast curses on Raven and all his house.
The common room was empty. The door was closed. "First we have to take care of Gilbert," Lisa said.
Shed bobbed his head, refused to look up.
"That was stupid, giving him jewelry he would recognize. He'll kill you if we don't kill him first."
Again Shed bobbed his head. Why me? he whined to himself. What have I done to deserve this?
"And don't you think you can get rid of me the way you did Sue and that blackmailer. My father has a letter he'll take to Bullock if I disappear."
"You're too smart for your own good." And: "It won't be long till winter."
"Yes. But we won't do it Raven's way. Too risky and too much work. We'll get charitable. Let all the derelicts in. One or two can disappear every night." "You're talking murder!"
"Who'll care? Nobody. They'll be better off themselves. Call it mercy."
"How can anybody so young be so heartless?" "You don't prosper in the Buskin if you have a heart, Mr. Shed. We'll fix a place where the outside cold will keep them till we get a wagonload. We can take them up maybe once a week." "Winter is. . . ."
"Is going to be my last season in the Buskin." "I won't do it."
"Yes, you will. Or you'll hear from Bullock. You don't have a choice. You have a partner." "God, deliver me from evil." "Are you less evil than me? You killed five people." "Four," he protested weakly.
"You think Sue is still alive? You're splitting hairs. Any way you look at it, you're guilty of murder. You're a murderer so dumb about money he doesn't have a gersh to his name. So stupid he keeps getting tangled with Sues and Gilberts. Mr. Shed, they only execute you once."
How to argue with sociopathic reasoning? Lisa was the heart of Lisa's universe. Other people existed only to be exploited.
"There are some others we should think about after Gilbert. That man of Krage's who got away. He knows there was something strange about the bodies not turning up. He hasn't talked or it would be all over the Buskin. But someday he might. And there's the man you hired to help you with the blackmailer."
She sounded like a general planning a campaign. Planning murder wholesale. How could anybody? . . .
"I want no more blood on my hands, Lisa."
"How much choice do you have?"
He could not deny that Gilbert's death had meaning in the equation of his survival. And after Gilbert, one more. Before she destroyed him. She would let her guard down sometime.
What about that letter? Damn. Maybe her father had to go first. . . . The trap was vast and had no apparent exits.
"This could be my only chance to get out, Mr. Shed. You'd better believe I'm going to grab it."
Shed shook his lethargy, leaned forward, stared into the fireplace. His own survival came first. Gilbert had to go. That was definite.
What about the black castle? Had he told her about the amulet? He could not recall. He had to imply the existence of a special passkey, else she might try to kill and sell him. He would become a danger to her once they implemented her plan. Yes. For sure. She would try to rid herself of him once she made her connection with the things in the castle. So add another to his must-kill list.
Damn. Raven had done the smart thing, the only thing possible. Had taken the only exit. Leaving Juniper was the only way out.
"Going to have to follow him," he muttered. "There isn't any choice."
"What?"
"Just muttering, girl. You win. Let's get to work on Gilbert."
"Good. Stay sober and get up early tomorrow. You'll need to watch the Lily while I check something out."
"All right."
"Time you pulled your own weight again, anyway."
"Probably so."
Lisa eyed him suspiciously. "Good night, Mr. Shed."
Lisa told Shed: "It's set up. He'll meet me at my place tonight. Alone. You bring your wagon. I'll make sure my dad isn't around."
"I hear Gilbert won't go anywhere without a bodyguard now."
"He will tonight. He's supposed to pay me ten leva to help get control of the Lily. I let him think he's going to get something else, too."
Shed's stomach growled. "What if he catches on?"
"There's two of us and one of him. How did such a chicken-shit manage everything you have?"
He had dealt with the lesser fear. But he kept that thought to himself. There was no point giving Lisa more handles than she had. It was time to find handles on her. "Aren't you scared of anything, child?"
"Poverty. Especially of being old and poor. I get the grey shakes whenever I see the Custodians haul some poor old stiff out of an alley."
"Yeah. That I can understand." Shed smiled thinly. That was a beginning.
Shed stopped the wagon, glanced at the window of a downstairs rear apartment. No candle burning there. Lisa hadn't yet arrived. He snapped the traces, rolled on. Gilbert might have scouts out. He was not stupid.
Shed pulled around a kink in the alleyway, strolled back pretending to be a drunk. Before long someone lighted a candle in the apartment. Heart hammering, Shed slunk to the rear door.
It was unlocked. As promised. Maybe Gilbert was stupid. Gently, he eased inside. His stomach was a mess of knots. His hands shook. A scream lay coiled in his throat.
This was not the Matron Shed who had fought Krage and his troops. That Shed had been trapped and fighting for his life. He had had no time to think himself into a panic. This Shed did. He was convinced he would foul up.
The apartment consisted of two tiny rooms. The first, behind the door, was dark and empty. Shed moved through carefully, eased to a ragged curtain. A man murmured beyond the doorway. Shed peeked.
Gilbert had disrobed and was resting a knee on a bedraggled excuse of a bed. Lisa was in it, covers pulled to her neck, pretending second thoughts. Gilbert's withered, wrinkled, blue-veined old body contrasted bizarrely with her youth.
Gilbert was angry.
Shed cursed mutely. He wished Lisa would stop playing games. Always she had to do more than go directly to her goal. She had to manipulate along the way, just to satisfy something within herself. He wanted to get it over.
Lisa pretended surrender, made room for Gilbert beside her.
The plan was for Shed to strike once Lisa enwrapped Gilbert in arms and legs. He decided to play a game of his own. He let it wait. He stood there grinning while her face betrayed her thoughts, while Gilbert sated himself upon her.
Finally, Shed moved in.
Three quick, quiet steps. He looped a garotte around Gilbert's skinny neck, leaned back. Lisa tightened her grip. How small and mortal the moneylender appeared. How unlike a man feared by half the Buskin. Gilbert struggled, but could not escape. Shed thought it would never end. He hadn't realized it took so long to strangle a man. Finally, he stepped back. His shakes threatened to overcome him. "Get him off!" Lisa squealed.
Shed rolled the corpse aside. "Get dressed. Come on. Let's get out of here. He might have some men hanging around. I'll get the wagon." He swept to the door, peeped into the alleyway. Nobody around. He recovered the wagon fast.
"Come on!" he snapped when he returned and found Lisa still undressed. "Let's get him out of here." She could not tear herself away. Shed shoved clothing into her arms, slapped her bare behind. "Get moving, damn it."
She dressed slowly. Shed fluttered to the door, checked the alley. Still no one around. He scooted back to the body, hustled it to the wagon and covered it with a tarp. Funny how they seemed lighter when they were dead.
Back inside: "Will you come on? I'll drag you out the way you are."
The threat had no effect. Shed grabbed her hand, dragged her out the door. "Up." He hoisted her onto the seat, jumped up himself.
He flicked the traces. The mules plodded forward. Once he crossed the Port River bridge, they knew where they were headed and needed little guidance. Idly, he wondered how many times they had made the journey.
The wagon was halfway up the hill before he calmed down enough to study Lisa. She seemed to be in shock. Suddenly, murder was not just talk. She had helped kill. Her neck was in a noose. "Not as easy as you thought, eh?"
"I didn't know it would be like that. I was holding him. I felt the life go out. It. ... It wasn't what I expected."
"And you want to make a career of it. I'll tell you something. I'm not killing my customers. You want it done that way, you do it yourself."
She tried a feeble threat.
"You don't have any power over me anymore. Go to the Inquisitors. They'll take you to a truth-sayer. Partner."
Lisa shivered. Shed held his tongue till they neared the black castle. "Let's not play games anymore." He was considering selling her along with Gilbert, but decided he could not muster the hatred, anger or downright meanness to do it.
He stopped the mules. "You stay here. Don't get off the wagon no matter what. Understand?"
"Yes." Lisa's voice was small and distant. Terrified, he thought.
He knocked on the black gate. It swung inward. He resumed his seat and drove inside, stepped down, swung Gilbert onto a stone slab. The tall creature came forth, examined the body, looked at Lisa.
"Not this one," Shed said. "She's a new partner."
The creature nodded. "Thirty."
"Done."
"We need more bodies, Marron Shed. Many bodies. Our work is nearing completion. We grow eager to finish."
Shed shuddered at its tone. "There'll be more soon."
"Good. Very good. You shall be rewarded richly."
Shed shuddered again, looked around. The thing asked, "You seek the woman? She has not yet become one with the portal." It snapped long, yellow fingers.
Feet scuffed in the darkness. Shadows came forth. They held the arms of a naked Sue. Shed swallowed hard. She had been used badly. She had lost weight, and her skin was colorless where not marked with bruises or abrasions. One of the creatures raised her chin, made her look at Shed. Her eyes were hollow and vacant. "The walking dead," he whispered.
"Is the revenge sweet enough?" the tall creature asked. "Take her away! I don't want to see her." The tall being snapped its fingers. Its compatriots retreated into the shadows. "My money!" Shed snarled.
Chuckling, the being counted coins at Gilbert's feet. Shed scooped them into his pocket. The being said. "Bring us more live ones, Marron Shed. We have many uses for live ones."
A scream echoed from the darkness. Shed thought he heard his name called.
"She recognized you, friend."
A whimper crawled out of Shed's throat. He vaulted onto the wagon seat, snarled at his mules.
The tall creature eyed Lisa with unmistakable meaning. Lisa read it. "Let's get out of here, Mr. Shed. Please?"
"Git up, mules." The wagon creaked and groaned and seemed to take forever getting through the gate. Screams continued echoing from somewhere deep inside the castle.
Outside, Lisa looked at Shed with a decidedly odd expression. Shed thought he detected relief, fear, and a little loathing. Relief seemed foremost. She sensed how vulnerable she had been. Shed smiled enigmatically, nodded, and said nothing. Like Raven, he recalled.
He grinned. Like Raven.
Let her think. Let her worry.
The mules halted. "Eh?"
Men materialized out of the darkness. They held naked weapons. Military-type weapons.
A voice said, "I'll be damned. It's the innkeeper."
Otto rolled in out of the night. "Hey! Croaker! We got a customer."
I folded my hand but did not throw the cards in. "You sure?" I was damned tired of false alarms.
Otto looked sheepish. "Yeah. For sure."
Something was wrong here. "Where is he? Let's have all of it." "They're going to make it inside." "They?"
"Man and a woman. We didn't think they were anything to worry about till they were past the last house and still headed uphill. It was too late to stop them then."
I slapped my hand down. I was pissed. There would be hell to pay in the morning. Whisper had had it up to her chin with me already. This might be her excuse to park me in the Catacombs. Permanently. The Taken are not patient.
"Let's go." I said in as calm a voice as I could manage, while glaring a hole through Otto. He made sure he stayed out of reach. He knew I was not pleased. Knew I was in a tight place with the Taken. He did not want to give me any excuse to wrap my hands around his neck. "I'm going to cut some throats if this gets screwed up again." We all grabbed weapons and rushed into the night.
We had our place picked, in brush two hundred yardsbelow the castle gate. I got the men into position just as somebody started screaming inside.
"Sounds bad," one of the men said.
"Keep it down," I snapped. Cold crept my spine. It did sound bad.
It went on and on and on. Then I heard the muted jangle of harness and the creak of wheels improperly greased. Then the voices of people talking softly.
We jumped out of the brush. One of the men opened the eye of a lantern. "I'll be damned!" I said. "It's the innkeeper.''
The man sagged. The woman stared at us, eyes widening. Then she sprang off the wagon and ran.
"Get her, Otto. And heaven help you if you don't. Crake, drag this bastard down. Walleye, take the wagon around to the house. The rest of us will cut across."
The man Shed did not struggle, so I detailed another two men to help Otto. He and the woman were crashing through the brush. She was headed toward a small precipice. She should corner herself there.
We led Shed to the old house. Once in the light, he became more deflated, more resigned. He said nothing. Most captives resist detention somehow, if only by denying that there is any reason to detain them. Shed looked like a man who thought he was overdue for the worst.
"Sit," I said, and indicated a chair at the table where we had played cards. I took another, turned it, parked myself with forearms atop its back and chin upon my forearms. "We've got you dead, Shed."
He just stared at the tabletop, a man without hope. "Anything to say?" "There's nothing to be said, is there?" "Oh, I think there's a whole lot. You've got your ass in a sling for sure, but you're not dead yet. You maybe could talk your way out of this."
His eyes widened slightly, then emptied again. He did not believe me.
"I'm not an Inquisitor, Shed."
His eyes flickered with momentary life.
"It's true. I followed Bullock around because he knew the Buskin. My job had very little to do with his. I couldn't care less about the Catacombs raid. I do care about the black castle, because it's a disaster in the making, but not as much as I care about you. Because of a man named Raven."
"One of your men called you Croaker. Raven was scared to death- of somebody named Croaker that he saw one night when the Duke's men grabbed some of his friends."
So. He'd witnessed our raid. Damn, but I had cut it close to the wind that time.
"I'm that Croaker. And I want to know everything you know about Raven and Darling. And everything about anybody else who knows anything." The slightest hint of defiance crossed his face. "A lot of folks are looking for you, Shed. Bullock isn't the only one. My boss wants you, too. And she's worse trouble than he is. You wouldn't like her at all. And she'll get you if you don't do this right."
I would rather have given him to Bullock. Bullock wasn't interested in our problems with the Taken. But Bullock was out of town.
"There's Asa, too. I want to know everything you haven't told me about him." I heard the woman cursing in the distance, carrying on like Otto and the guys were trying to rape her. I knew better. They hadn't the nerve after having screwed up once already tonight. "Who's the slot?"
"My barmaid. She. ..." And his story boiled out. Once he started, there was no stopping him.
I had a notion how to wriggle out of a potentially embarrassing situation. "Shut him up." One of the men clamped a hand over Shed's mouth. "Here's what we're going to do, Shed. Assuming you want out of this alive."
He waited.
"The people I work for will know a body was delivered tonight. They'll expect me to catch whoever did it. I'll have to give them someone. That could be you, the girl, or both of you. You know some things I don't want the Taken to find out. One way I can avoid handing you over is having you turn up dead. I can make that real if I have to. Or you can fake it for me. Let the slot see you looking like you've been wrecked. You follow?"
Shaking, he replied, "I think so."
"I want to know everything."
"The girl. ..."
I held up a hand, listened. The uproar was close. "She won't come back from her meeting with the Taken. There's no reason we couldn't turn you loose once we're done doing what we have to do."
He did not believe me. He had committed crimes he believed deserved the harshest punishment, and he expected it.
"We're the Black Company, Shed. Juniper is going to get to know that real well soon. Including the fact that we keep our promises. But that's not important to you. Right now you want to stay alive long enough to get a break. That means you'd damned well better fake being dead, and do it better than any stiff you ever hauled up the hill."
"All right."
"Take him over by the fire and make him look like he's had it rough."
The men knew what to do. They sort of scattered Shed around without actually hurting him. I tossed a few things around to make it look like there had been a fight, and finished just in time.
The girl came sailing through the doorway, propelled by Otto's fist. She looked the worse for wear. So did Otto and the men I'd sent to help. "Wildcat, eh?"
Otto tried to grin. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. "Ain't the half of it, Croaker." He kicked the girl's feet from under her. "What happened to the guy?"
"Got a little feisty. I stuck a knife in him."
"I see."
We stared at the girl. She stared back, the fire gone. Each few seconds she glanced at Shed, looked back more subdued.
"Yep. You're in a heap of trouble, sweetheart."
She gave us the song-and-dance I'd expected from Shed. We ignored it, knowing it was bullshit. Otto cleaned up, then bound her hands and ankles. He parked her in a chair. I made sure it faced away from Shed. The poor bastard had to breathe.
I sat down opposite the girl and began to question her. Shed said he had told her almost everything. I wanted to know if she knew anything about Raven that could give him or us away.
I got no chance to find out.
There was a great rush of air around the house. A roar like a tornado passing. A crack like thunder.
Otto said it all. "Oh shit! Taken." The door blew inward. I rose, stomach twisting, heart hammering. Feather came in looking like she'd just walked through a burning building. Wisps of smoke rose from her smouldering apparel.
"What the hell?" tasked.
"The castle. I got too close. They almost knocked me out of the sky. What have you got?"
I told my story quickly, not omitting the fact that we had allowed a corpse to get past. I indicated Shed. "One dead, trying to fight questioning. But this one is healthy." I indicated the girl.
Feather moved close to the girl. She had taken a real blast out there. I did not feel the aura of great power rigidly constrained that one usually senses in the presence of the Taken. And she did not sense the life still throbbing in Marron Shed. "So young." She lifted the girl's chin. "Oh. What eyes. Fire and steel. The Lady will love this one."
"We keep the watch?" I asked, assuming she would confiscate the prisoner.
"Of course. There may be others." She faced me. "No more will get through. The margin is too narrow. Whisper will forgive the latest. But the next is your doom."
"Yes, ma'am. Only it's hard to do and not attract the attention of the locals. We can't just go set up a roadblock.''
"Why not?"
I explained. She had scouted the black castle and knew the lay of the land. "You're right. For the moment. But your Company will be here soon. There'll be no need for secrecy then."
"Yes, ma'am."
Feather took the girl's hand. "Come," she said.
I was amazed at how docilely our hellcat followed Feather. I went outside and watched Feather's battered carpet rise and hurry toward Duretile. One despairing cry floated in its wake.
I found Shed in the doorway when I turned to go inside. I wanted to smack him for that, but controlled myself.
"Who was that?" he asked. '"What was that?"
"Feather. One of the Taken. One of my bosses."
"Sorceress?"
"One of the greatest. Go sit. Let's talk. I need to know exactly what that girl knows about Raven and Darling."
Intense questioning convinced me that Lisa did not know enough to arouse Whisper's suspicions. Unless she connected the name Raven with the man who had helped capture her years ago.
I continued grilling Shed till first light. He practically begged to tell every filthy detail of his story. He had a big need to confess. Over coming days, when I sneaked down to the Buskin, he revealed everything recorded where he appears as the focal character. I do not think I have met many men who disgusted me more. Nastier men, yes. I have encountered scores. Greater villains come by the battalion. Shed's leavening of self-pity and cowardice reduced him from those categories to an essentially pathetic level.
Poor dolt. He was born to be used.
And yet. . . . There was one guttering spark in Matron Shed, reflected in his relationships with his mother, Raveo, Asa, Lisa, Sal, and Darling, that he noted but did not recognize himself. He had a hidden streak of charity and decency. It was the gradual growth of that spark, with its eventual impact upon the Black Company, which makes me feel obligated to record all the earlier noxious details about that frightened little man.
The morning following his capture, I rode into the city in Shed's wagon and allowed him to open the Iron Lily as usual. During the morning I got Elmo and Goblin in for a conference. Shed was unsettled when he discovered that we all knew one another. Only through sheer luck had he not been taken earlier.
Poor fellow. The grilling never ceased. Poor us. He could not tell us everything we wanted to know.
"What are we going to do about the girl's father?" Elmo asked.
"If there is a letter, we've got to grab it." I replied. "We can't have anybody stirring up more problems. Goblin, you take care of the papa. He's even a little suspicious, see he has a heart attack."
Sourly, Goblin nodded. He asked Shed for the father's whereabouts, departed. And returned within half an hour. "A great tragedy. He didn't have a letter. She was bluffing. But he did know too much that would come out under questioning. This business is beginning to get to me. Hunting Rebels was cleaner. You knew who was who and where you stood."
"I'd better get back up the hill. The Taken might not be understanding about me being down here. Elmo, better keep somebody in Shed's pocket."
"Right. Pawnbroker lives there from now on. That clown takes a crap, he's holding his hand."
Goblin looked remote and thoughtful. "Raven buying a ship. Imagine that. What do you figure he was going to do?"
"I think he wanted to head straight out to sea," I said. "I hear there're islands out there, way out. Maybe another continent. A guy could hide pretty good out there."
I went back up the hill and loafed for two days, except to slip off and get everything I could out of Shed. Not a damned thing happened. Nobody else tried to make a delivery. I guess Shed was the only fool in the body business.
Sometimes I looked at those grim black battlements and wondered. They had taken a crack at Feather. Somebody in there knew the Taken meant trouble. How long before they realized they had been cut off and did something to get the meat supply moving again?
Shed was still rattled two days after his capture. Each time he looked across the common room and saw one of those Black Company bastards, he started falling apart again. He was living on borrowed time. He was not sure what use they had for him, but he was sure that when he was used up, they would dump him with the garbage. Some of his babysitters clearly thought him trash. He could not refute their viewpoint in his own mind.
He was behind his counter, washing mugs, when Asa walked through the door. He dropped a mug.
Asa met his eye for only an instant, sidled around the L and headed upstairs. Shed took a deep breath and followed. The man called Pawnbroker was a step behind when he reached the head of the stair, moving as silent as death. He had a knife ready for business.
Shed stepped into what had been Raven's room. Pawnbroker remained outside. "What the hell are you doing here, Asa? The Inquisitors are after you. About that Catacombs business. Bullock himself went south looking for you."
"Easy, Shed. I know. He caught up with us. It got hairy. We left him cut up, but he'll mend. And he'll come back looking for you. I came to warn you. You've got to get out of Juniper."
"Oh, no," Shed said softly. Another tooth in the jaws of fate. "Been considering that anyway." That would not
tell Pawnbroker anything he could not guess for himself. "Things have gotten rotten here. I've started looking for a buyer." Not true, but he would before day's end.
For some reason Asa's return restored his heart. Maybe just because he felt he had an ally, somebody who shared his troubles.
Most of the story poured out. Pawnbroker did not take exception. He did not make an appearance.
Asa had changed. He did not seem shocked. Shed asked why not.
"Because I spent so much time with Raven. He told me stories that would curl your hair. About the days before he came to Juniper." "How is he?" "Dead."
"Dead?" Shed gasped.
"What?" Pawnbroker bulled through the doorway. "Did you say Raven was dead?"
Asa looked at Pawnbroker, at Shed, at Pawnbroker again. "Shed, you bastard. . . ."
"You shut up, Asa," Shed snapped. "You haven't got the faintest what's happened while you were gone. Pawnbroker is a friend. Sort of."
"Pawnbroker, eh? Like from the Black Company?" Pawnbroker's eyebrows rose. "Raven been talking?" "He had some tales about the old days." "Uh-huh. Right, buddy. That's me. Let's get back to Raven being dead."
Asa looked at Shed. Shed nodded. "Tell us." "Okay. I don't really know what happened. We were clearing out after our mix-up with Bullock. Running. His hired thugs caught us by surprise. We're hiding in some woods outside of town when all of a sudden he starts screaming and jumping around. It don't make no sense to me." Asa shook his head. His face was pale and sweaty. "Go on," Shed urged gently. "Shed, I don't know." "What?" Pawnbroker demanded. "I don't know. I didn't hang around."
Shed grimaced. That was the Asa he knew. "You're a real buddy, fellow," Pawnbroker said. "Look. . . ." Shed motioned for silence.
Asa said, "Shed, you've got to get out of Juniper. Fast. Any day a ship could bring a letter from Bullock." "But. . . ."
"It's better down there than we thought, Shed. You got money; you're all right. They don't care about the Catacombs. Think it was a big joke on the Custodians. That's how Bullock found us. Everybody was laughing about the raid. There was even some guys talking about getting up an expedition to come clean them out."
"How did anybody find out about the Catacombs, Asa? Only you and Raven knew." Asa looked abashed.
"Yeah. Thought so. Had to brag, didn't you?" He was confused and frightened and starting to take it out on Asa. He did not know what to do. He had to get out of Juniper, like Asa said. But how to give his watchdogs the slip? Especially when they knew he had to try?
"There's a ship at the Tulwar dock that leaves for Meadenval in the morning, Shed. I had the Captain hold passage for two. Should I tell him you'll be there, too?"
Pawnbroker stepped into position to block the doorway. "Neither one of you will be there. Some friends of mine want to talk to you."
"Shed, what is this?" Panic edged Asa's voice. Shed looked at Pawnbroker. The mercenary nodded. Shed poured out most everything. Asa did not understand. Shed did not himself, because his chaperones had not told • him everything, so there was some sense missing from the picture he had.
Pawnbroker was alone at the Lily. Shed suggested, "How about I go get Goblin?" Pawnbroker smiled. "How about we just wait?"
"But. . . ."
"Somebody will turn up. We'll wait. Let's go downstairs.
You." He indicated Asa with his blade. "Don't get any funny ideas."
Shed said, "Be careful, Asa. These are the guys Raven was scared of."
"I will. I heard enough from Raven."
"That's a pity, too," Pawnbroker said. "Croaker and Elmo aren't going to like that. Down, gents. Shed, just go on about your business."
"Somebody's liable to recognize Asa," Shed warned.
"We'll take a chance. Git." Pawnbroker stood aside and allowed both men to pass. Downstairs, he seated Asa at the shadowiest table and joined him, cleaning his nails with his knife. Asa watched in fascination. Seeing ghosts, Shed figured.
He could get away now if he wanted to sacrifice Asa. They wanted Asa more than they wanted him. If he just headed out through the kitchen, Pawnbroker would not come after him.
His sister-in-law came from the kitchen, a platter balanced on each hand. "When you get a minute, Sal." And when she got the minute: "You think you and the kids could run the place for me for a few weeks?"
"Sure. Why?" She looked puzzled. But she glanced quickly into the shadows.
"I might have to go somewhere for a while. I'd feel better if I knew somebody in the family was running the place. I don't really trust Lisa."
"You haven't heard from her yet?"
"No. You'd have thought she'd turn up when her father died, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe she's shacked up somewhere and hasn't heard yet." Sal did not sound convinced. In fact, Shed suspected, she thought he had something to do with the disappearance. Way too many people had disappeared around him. He was afraid she would do her sums and decide he had had something to do with Wally disappearing, too.
"There's one rumor I heard said she got arrested. Keep an eye out for Mom. She's got good people taking care of her, but they need supervising."
"Where are you going, Marron?" "I don't know yet." He was afraid it might be just a way up the hill, to the Enclosure. If not that, then certainly somewhere, away from everything that had happened here. Away from these merciless men and their even less merci-ful employers. Have to talk to Asa about the Taken, Maybe Raven had told him something.
He wished he could get a moment with Asa to plan something. The two of them making a break. But not on the Tulwar ship. Asa had mentioned that, damn him. Some other ship, headed south.
What had become of Raven's big new vessel? And Darling?
He went over to the table. "Asa. What happened to Darling?"
Asa reddened. He stared at his folded hands. "I don't know, Shed. Honest. I panicked. I just ran for the first ship headed north."
Shed walked away, shaking his head in disgust. Leaving the girl alone like that. Asa hadn't changed much after all.
The one called Goblin came through the door. He began to beam at Asa before Pawnbroker said anything. "My, my, my, my, my," he said. "Is this who I think it is, Pawn?"
"You got it. The infamous Asa himself, home from the wars. And does he have stories to tell."
Goblin seated himself opposite Asa. He wore a big frog grin. "Such as?"
"Mainly, he claims Raven is dead."
Goblin's smile vanished. In an eye's blink he became deadly serious. He made Asa tell his story again while staring into a mug of wine. When he finally looked up, he was subdued. "Better talk this over with Elmo and Croaker. Good job, Pawnbroker.
I'll take him. Keep your eye on friend Shed."
Shed winced. In the back of his head had lain the small hope that both would leave with Asa.
His mind was made up. He would flee at the first opportunity. Get south, change his name, use his gold pieces to buy into an inn, behave himself so thoroughly nobody would notice him ever again.
Asa showed a spark of rebellion. "Who the hell do you guys think you are? Suppose I don't want to go anywhere?"
Goblin smiled nastily, muttered something under his breath. Dark brown smoke drifted out of his mug, illuminated by a bloody inner glow. Goblin stared at Asa. Asa stared at the mug, unnerved.
The smoke coalesced, formed a small, headlike shape. Points began glowing where eyes might be. Goblin said, "My little friend wants you to argue. He feeds on pain. And he hasn't eaten for a long time. I've had to keep a low profile in Juniper.''
Asa's eyes kept getting bigger. So did Shed's. Sorcery! He had sensed it in the thing called the Taken, but that had not upset him much. It had been removed, not experienced. Something that had happened to Lisa, out of sight. But this. . . .
It was a minor sorcery, to be sure. Some slight trick. But it was sorcery in a city which saw none other than that involved in the slow growth of the black castle. The dark arts hadn't gained any following in Juniper.
"All right," Asa said. "All right." His voice was high and thin and squeaky, and he was trying to push his chair back. Pawnbroker prevented him.
Goblin grinned. "I see Raven mentioned Goblin. Good. You'll behave. Come along."
Pawnbroker released Asa's chair. The little man followed Goblin docilely.
Shed sidled over and looked into Goblin's mug. Nothing. He frowned. Pawnbroker grinned. "Cute trick, eh?"
"Yeah.'' Shed took the mug to his sink. When Pawnbroker was not looking, he dropped it into the trash. He was more scared than ever. How did he get away from a sorcerer?
His head filled with tales he had heard from southern sailors. Bad business, wizards were.
He wanted to weep.
Goblin brought me the man Asa, and insisted we wait for Elmo before questioning him. He had sent someone to dig Elmo out of Duretile, where he was trying to placate Whisper. Whisper was getting goosed by the Lady regular and taking it out on anyone handy.
Goblin was unsettled by what he had learned. He did not play the usual game and try to make me guess what was going on. He blurted, "Asa says him and Raven had a run-in with Bullock. Raven is dead. He lit out. Darling is on her own down there."
Excitement? Better believe it. I was ready to put the little man to the question, then and there. But I controlled myself.
Elmo was a while showing up. Goblin and I got damned antsy before he did, while Asa worked himself up for a stroke.
The wait proved worthwhile. Elmo did not come alone.
The first hint was a faint but sour odor that seemed to come from the fireplace, where I'd had a small fire lighted. Just in case, you know. With a few iron rods set by, ready to be heated, so Asa could look them over and think, and maybe convince himself he ought not to leave anything out.
"What's that smell?" somebody asked. "Croaker, you let that cat in again?"
"I kicked him out after he sprayed my boots," I said.
"Like halfway down the hill. Maybe he got the firewood before he left."
The odor grew stronger. It wasn't really obnoxious, just mildly irritating. We took turns examining the firewood. Nothing.
I was in the middle of a third search for the source when the fire caught my eye. For a second I saw a face in the flames.
My heart nearly stopped. For half a minute I was in a panic, nothing but the face's presence having registered. I considered every evil that could happen: Taken watching, the Lady watching, the things from the black castle, maybe the Dominator himself peeking through our fire. . . . Then something calm, back in the far marches of mind, reiterated something I hadn't noticed because I had no reason to expect it. The face in the flames had had only one eye.
"One-Eye," I said without thinking. "That little bastard is in Juniper.''
Goblin spun toward me, eyes wide. He sniffed the air. His famous grin split his face. "You're right, Croaker. Absolutely right. That stink is the little skunk himself. Should have recognized it straight off."
I glanced at the fire. The face did not reappear.
Goblin mused, "What would be a suitable welcome?"
"Figure the Captain sent him?"
"Probably. Be logical to send him or Silent ahead."
"Do me a favor, Goblin."
"What?"
"Don't give him no special welcome."
Goblin looked deflated. It had been a long time. He did not want to miss an opportunity to refresh his acquaintance with One-Eye with a flash and a bang.
"Look," I said. "He's here on the sneak. We don't want the Taken to know. Why give them anything to sniff out?"
Bad choice of words. The smell was about to drive us outside.
"Yeah," Goblin grumbled. "Wish the Captain had sent
Silent. I was all worked up for this. Had him the biggest surprise of his life."
"So get him later. Meantime, why not clear this smell out? Why not get his goat by just ignoring him?''
He thought about it. His eyes gleamed. "Yeah," he said, and I knew he had shaped my suggestion to his own warped sense of humor.
A fist hammered on the door. It startled me even though I was expecting it. One of the men let Elmo in.
One-Eye came in behind Elmo, grinning like a little black mongoose about to eat snake. We paid him no heed. Because the Captain came in behind him.
The Captain! The last man I expected to reach Juniper before the Company itself.
"Sir?" I blurted. "What the hell are you doing here?" He lumbered to the fire, extended his hands. Summer had begun to fade, but it was not that cold. He was as bear-like as ever, though he had lost weight and aged. It had been a hard march indeed. "Stork," he replied.
I frowned, looked at Elmo. Elmo shrugged, said, "I sent Stork with the message."
The Captain expanded, "Stork didn't make any sense. What's this about Raven?"
Raven, of course, had been his closest friend before deserting. I began to get a glimmer.
I indicated Asa. "This guy was in the thick of it from the beginning. Been Raven's sidekick. He says Raven is dead, down… What's the name of that place, Asa?"
Asa stared at the Captain and One-Eye and swallowed about six times without being able to say anything. I told the Captain, "Raven told stories about us that turned his hair grey."
"Let's hear the story," the Captain said. He was looking at Asa.
So Asa told his tale for the third time, while Goblin hovered, listening for the clunk of untruth. He ignored One-Eye in the most masterful show of ignoring I've ever seen. And all for nought.
The Captain dropped Asa completely the moment he finished his tale. A matter of style, I think. He wanted the information to percolate before he trotted it out for reexamination. He had me review everything I had experienced since arriving in Juniper. I presumed he had gotten Elmo's story already.
I finished. He observed, "You're too suspicious of the Taken. The Limper has been with us all along. He doesn't act like there's anything up." If anyone had a cause for malice toward us, the Limper did.
"Nevertheless," I said, "there're wheels within wheels within wheels with the Lady and the Taken. Maybe they didn't tell him anything because they figured he couldn't keep it secret."
"Maybe," the Captain admitted. He shuffled around, occasionally gave Asa a puzzled look. "Whatever, let's not get Whisper wondering any more than she is. Play it close. Pretend you're not suspicious. Do your job. One-Eye and his boys will be around to back you up."
Sure, I thought. Against the Taken? "If the Limper is with the Company, how did you get away? If he knows you're gone, the word will be out to the Lady, won't it?"
"He shouldn't find out. We haven't spoken in months. He stays to himself. Bored, I think."
"What about the Barrowland?" I was primed to find out everything that had happened during the Company's long trek, for I had nothing in the Annals concerning the majority of my comrades. But it was not yet time to exhume details. Just to feel for high points.
"We never saw it," the Captain said. "According to the Limper, Journey and the Lady are working that end. We can expect a major move as soon as we have Juniper under control."
"We haven't done squat to prepare," I said. "The Taken kept us busy fussing about the black castle."
"Ugly place, isn't it?" He looked us over. "I think you might've gotten more done had you not been so paranoid." "Sir?"
"Most of your trail-covering strikes me as needless and a waste of time. The problem was Raven's, not yours. And he solved it in typical fashion. Without help." He glared at Asa.
"In fact, the problem seems solved for all time."
He had not been here and had not felt the pressures, but I did not mention that. Instead, I asked, "Goblin, you figure Asa is telling the truth?"
warily, Goblin nodded.
"How about you, One-Eye? You catch any false notes?"
The little black man responded with a cautious negative, "Asa. Raven should have had a bunch of papers with him. He ever mention them?"
Asa looked puzzled. He shook his head.
"He have a trunk or something that he wouldn't let anybody near?"
Asa seemed baffled by the direction my questions had taken. The others did too. Only Silent knew about those papers. Silent, and maybe Whisper, who had possessed them once herself.
"Asa? Anything he treated unusually?"
A light dawned in the little man's mind. "There was a crate. About the size of a coffin. I remember making a joke about it. He said something cryptic about it being somebody's ticket to the grave."
I grinned. The papers still existed. "What did he do with that crate down there?"
"I don't know."
"Asa…"
"Honest. I only saw it a couple times on the ship. I never thought anything about it."
"What are you getting at, Croaker?" the Captain asked.
"I have a theory. Just based on what I know about Raven and Asa."
Everyone frowned.
"Generally, what we know about Asa suggests he's a character Raven wouldn't take up with on a bet. He's chicken. Unreliable. Too talkative. But Raven did take up with him. Took him south and made him part of the team. Why? Maybe that don't bother you guys, but it does me."
"I don't follow you," the Captain said. "Suppose Raven wanted to disappear so people wouldn't even bother looking for him? He tried to vanish once, by coming to Juniper. But we turned up. Looking for him, he thought. So what next? How about he dies? In front of a witness. People don't hunt for dead men."
Elmo interrupted. "You saying he staged his death and used Asa to report it so nobody would come looking?" "I'm saying we ought to consider the possibility." The Captain's sole response was a thoughtful, "Uhm." Goblin said, "But Asa did see him die." "Maybe. And maybe he only thinks he did." We all looked at Asa. He cowered. The Captain said, "Take him through his story again, One-Eye. Step-by-step." For two hours One-Eye dragged the little man through again and again. And we could not spot one flaw. Asa insisted he had seen Raven die, devoured from within by something snake-like. And the more my theory sprung leaks, the more I was sure it was valid.
"My case depends on Raven's character," I insisted, when everybody ganged up on me. "There's the crate, and there's Darling. Her and a damned expensive ship that he, for godsakes, had built. He left a trail going out of here, and he knew it. Why sail a few hundred miles and tie up to a dock when somebody is going to come looking? Why leave Shed alive behind you, to tell about you being in on the raid on the Catacombs? And there's no way in hell he'd leave Darling twisting in the wind. Not for a minute. He would have had arrangements made for her. You know that." My arguments were beginning to sound a little strained to me, too. I was in the position of a priest trying to sell religion. "But Asa says they just left her hanging around some inn. I tell you, Raven had a plan. I bet, if you went down there now, you'd find Darling gone without a trace. And if the ship is still there, that crate wouldn't be aboard."
"What is this with the crate?" One-Eye demanded. I ignored him.
"I think you have too much imagination, Croaker," the Captain said. "But, on the other hand, Raven is crafty enough to pull something like that. Soon as I can spring you, figure on going down to check."
"If Raven's crafty enough, how about the Taken being villainous enough to try something against us?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He faced One-Eye. "I want you and Goblin to save the games. Understand? Too much clowning around and the Taken will get curious. Croaker. Hang on to this Asa character. You'll want him to show you where Raven died. I'm heading back to the outfit. Elmo. Come ride with me part way."
So. A little private business. Bet it had to do with my suspicions about the Taken. After a while you get so used to some people you can almost read their minds.
Things changed after the Captain's visit. The men became more alert. Elmo's influence waxed while mine waned. A less wishy-washy, more inflexible tone characterized the Company deputation. Every man became ready to move at an instant's notice.
Communications improved dramatically while time available for sleep declined painfully. None of us were ever out of touch more than two hours. And Elmo found excuses to get everyone but himself out of Duretile, into places where the Taken would have trouble finding them. Asa became my ward out on the black castle slope.
Tension mounted. I felt like one of a flock of chickens poised to scatter the moment a fox landed among us. I tried to bleed off my shakiness by updating the Annals. I had let them slide sadly, seldom having done more than keep notes.
When the tension became too much for me, I walked uphill to stare at the black castle.
It was an intentional risk-taking, like that of a child who crawls out a tree branch overhanging a deadly fall. The closer I approached the castle, the more narrow my concentration. At two hundred yards all other cares vanished. I felt the dread of that place down to my ankle bones and the shallows of my soul. At two hundred yards I felt what it meant to have the shadow of the Dominator overhanging the world. I felt what the Lady felt when she considered her husband's potential resurrection. Every emotion be- came edged with a hint of despair. In a way, the black castle was more than a gateway "through which the world's great old evil might reappear. It was a concretization of metaphorical concepts, and a living symbol. It did things a great cathedral does. Like a cathedral,it was far more than an edifice.
I could stare at its obsidian walls and grotesque decoration, recall Shed's stories, and never avoid dipping into the cesspool of my own soul, never avoid searching myself for the essential decency shelved through most of my adult life. That castle was, if you like, a moral landmark. If you had a brain. If you had any sensitivity at all.
There were times when One-Eye, Goblin, Elmo or another of the men accompanied me. Not one of them went away untouched. They could stand there with me, talking trivialities about its construction or, weightily, about its significance in the Company's future, and all the while something would be happening inside.
I do not believe in evil absolute. I have recounted that philosophy in specific elsewhere in the Annals, and it affects my every observation throughout my tenure as Annalist. I believe in our side and theirs, with the good and evil decided after the fact, by those who survive. Among men you seldom find the good with one standard and the shadow with another. In our war with the Rebel, eight and nine years ago, we served the side perceived as the shadow. Yet we saw far more wickedness practiced by the adherents of the White Rose than by those of the Lady. The villains of the piece were at least straightforward.
The world knows where it stands with the Lady. It is the Rebel whose ideals and morals conflict with fact, becoming as changeable as the weather and as flexible as a snake.
But I digress. The black castle has that effect. Makes you amble off into all the byways and cul-de-sacs and false trails you have laid down during your life. It makes you reassess. Makes you want to take a stand somewhere, even if on the black side. Leaves you impatient with your own malleable morality.
I suspect that is why Juniper decided to pretend the place did not exist. It is an absolute demanding absolutes in a world with a preference for relatives.
Darling was in my thoughts often while I stood below those black, glossy walls, for she was the castle's antipode when I was up there. The white pole, and absolute in opposition to what the black castle symbolized. I had not been much in her presence since realizing what she was, but I could recall being morally unnerved by her, too. I wondered how she would affect me now, after having had years to grow.
From what Shed said, she did not reek the way the castle did. His main interest in her had been hustling her upstairs. And Raven had not been driven into puritanical channels. If anything, he had slipped farther into the darkness-though for the highest of motives.
Possibly there was a message there. An observation upon means to ends. Here was Raven who had acted with the pragmatic amorality of a prince of Hell, all so he could save the child who represented the best hope of the world against the Lady and the Dominator.
Oh, 'twould be marvelous if the world and its moral questions were like some game board, with plain black players and white, and fixed rules, and nary a shade of grey.
Even Asa and Shed could be made to feel the aura of the castle if you took them up during the daytime and made them stand there looking at those fell walls.
Shed especially.
Shed had achieved a position where he could afford conscience and uncertainty. I mean, he had none of the financial troubles that had plagued him earlier, and no prospect of digging himself a hole with us watching him, so he could reflect upon his place in things and become disgusted with himself. More than once I took him up and watched as that deep spark of hidden decency flared, twisted him upon a rack of inner torment.
I do not know how Elmo did it. Maybe he went without sleep for a few weeks. But when the Company came down out of the Wolanders, he had an occupation plan prepared. It was crude, to be sure, but better than any of us expected.
I was in the Buskin, at Shed's Iron Lily, when the first rumors raged down the waterfront and stirred one of the most massive states of confusion I've ever seen. Shed's wood-seller neighbor swept into the Lily, announced, "There's an army coming down out of the pass! Foreigners! Thousands of them! They say. ..."
During the following hour a dozen patrons brought the news. Each time the army was larger and its purpose more obscure. Nobody knew what the Company wanted. Various witnesses assigned motives according to their own fears. Few came anywhere near the mark.
Though the men were weary after so long a march, they spread through the city quickly, the larger units guided by Elmo's men. Candy brought a reinforced company into the Buskin. The worst slums are always the first site of rebellion, we've found. There were few violent confrontations. Juniper's citizens were taken by surprise and had no idea what to fight about anyway. Most just turned out to watch.
I got myself back up to my squad. This was the time the Taken would do their deed. If they planned anything.
Nothing happened. As I might have guessed, knowing that men from our forerunner party were guiding the new arrivals. Indeed, nobody got in touch with me, up there, for another two days. By then the city was pacified. Every key point was in our hands. Every state building, every arsenal, every strong point, even the Custodians' headquarters in the Enclosure. And life went on as usual. What little trouble there was came when Rebel refugees tried to start an uprising, accurately accusing the Duke of having brought the Lady to Juniper.
The people of Juniper didn't much care.
There were problems in the Buskin, though. Elmo wanted to straighten the slum out. Some of the slum dwellers
didn't want to be straightened. He used Candy's company forcefully, cracking the organizations of the crime bosses. I did not see the necessity, but wiser heads feared the gangs could become the focus of future resistance. Anything with that potential had to be squashed immediately. I think there was a hope the move would win popular favor, too.
Elmo brought the Lieutenant to my hillside shack the third day after the Company's arrival. "How goes it?" I asked. The Lieutenant had aged terribly since I had seen him last. The passage westward had been grim.
"City's secure," he said. "Stinking dump, isn't it?"
"Better believe. It's all snake's belly. What's up?"
Elmo said, "He needs a look at the target."
I lifted an eyebrow.
The Lieutenant said, "The Limper says we're going to take this place. I don't know how soon. Captain wants me to look it over."
"Fun times tomorrow," I muttered. "Ain't going to grab it on the sneak." I donned my coat. It was chilly up on the slopes. Elmo and One-Eye tagged along when I took the Lieutenant up. He eyeballed the castle, deep in thought. Finally, he said, "I don't like it. Not even a little bit." He felt the cold dread of the place.
"I got a man who's been inside," I said. "But don't let the Taken know. He's supposed to be dead."
"What can he tell me?"
"Not much. He's only been there at night, in a court behind the gate."
"Uhm. The Taken have a girl up at Duretile, too. I talked to her. She couldn't tell me nothing. Only in there once, and was too scared to look around."
"She's still alive?"
"Yeah. That's the one you caught? Yeah. She's alive. Lady's orders, apparently. Nasty little witch. Let's hike around it."
We got onto the far slope, where the going was rough, to the accompaniment of constant crabbing by One-Eye. The Lieutenant stated the obvious. "No getting at it from here. Not without help from the Taken."
"Going to take a big lot of help to get at it from any direction."
He looked me a question.
I told him about Feather's troubles the night we took Shed and his barmaid.
"Anything since?"
"Nope. Not before, either. My man who's been inside never saw anything extraordinary, either. But, dammit, the thing connects with the Barrowland. It's got the Dominator behind it. You know it's not going to be a pushover. They know there's trouble out here."
One-Eye made a squeaking sound. "What?" the Lieutenant snapped.
One-Eye pointed. We all looked up the wall, which loomed a good sixty feet above us. I did not see anything. Neither did the Lieutenant. "What?" he asked again.
"Something was watching us. Nasty-looking critter."
"I saw it too," Elmo volunteered. "Long, skinny, yellowish guy with eyes like a snake."
I considered the wall. "How could you tell from here?"
Elmo shivered and shrugged. "I could. And I didn't like it. Looked like he wanted to bite me." We dragged on through brush and over boulders, keeping one eye on the castle, the other on the down slope. Elmo muttered, "Hungry eyes. That's what they were."
We reached the ridgeline west of the castle. The Lieutenant paused. "How close can you get?"
I shrugged. "I haven't had the balls to find out."
The Lieutenant moved here, there, as if sighting on something. "Let's bring up some prisoners and find out."
I sucked spittle between my teeth, then said, "You won't get the locals anywhere near the place."
"Think not? How about in exchange for a pardon? Candy's rounded up half the villains in the Buskin. Got a regular anti-crime crusade going. He gets three complaints about somebody, he nabs them."
"Sounds a little simple," I said. We were moving around for a look at the castle gate. By simple I meant simplistic, not easy.
The Lieutenant chuckled. Months of hardship had not sapped his bizarre sense of humor. "Simple minds respond to simple answers. A few months of Candy's reforms and the Duke will be a hero."
I understood the reasoning. Juniper was a lawless city, ruled by regional strongmen. There were hordes of Sheds who lived in terror, continuously victimized. Anyone who lessened the terror would win their affection. Adequately developed, that affection would survive later excesses.
I wondered, though, if the support of weaklings was worth much. Or if, should we successfully infect them with courage, we might not be creating trouble for ourselves later. Take away daily domestic oppression and they might imagine oppression on our part.
I have seen it before. Little people have to hate, have to blame someone for their own inadequacies.
But that was not the problem of the moment. The moment demanded immediate, vigorous, violent attention. The castle gate popped open as we came in line. A half-dozen wild beings in black rushed us. A fog of lethargy settled upon me, and I found fear fading the moment it sparked into existence. By the time they were halfway to us, all I wanted was to lie down.
Pain filled my limbs. My head ached. Cramps knotted my stomach. The lethargy vanished.
One-Eye was doing strange things, dancing, yelping like a wolf pup, throwing his hands around like wounded birds. His big, weird hat flew off and tumbled with the breeze, downhill, till it became tangled in the brush. Between yelps he snapped, "Do something, you idiots! I can't hold them forever."
Shang! Elmo's sword cleared its scabbard. The Lieutenant's did the same. I was carrying nothing but a long dagger. I whipped it out and joined the rush. The castle creatures stood frozen, surprise in their ophidian eyes. The Lieutenant reached them first, stopped, wound up, took a mighty two-handed swing.
He lugs a hanger that is damned near an executioner's sword. A blow like that would have severed the necks of three men. It did not remove the head of his victim, though it did bite deep. Blood sprayed the three of us.
Elmo went with a thrust, as did I. His sword drove a foot into his victim. My dagger felt like it had hit soft wood. It sank but three inches into my victim. Probably not deeply enough to reach anything vital.
I yanked my blade free, poked around in my medical knowledge for a better killing point. Elmo kicked his victim in the chest to get his weapon free.
The Lieutenant had the best weapon and approach. He hacked another neck while we diddled around.
Then One-Eye lost it. The eyes of the castle creatures came alive. Pure fiery venom burned there. I feared the two not yet harmed would swarm all over us. But the Lieutenant threw a wild stroke and they retreated. The one I had wounded staggered after them. He fell before he reached the gate. He kept crawling. The gate closed in his face.
"So," the Lieutenant said. "There's a few lads we don't have to face later. My commendation, One-Eye." He spoke calmly enough, but his voice was up in the squeak range. His hands shook. It had been close. We would not have survived had One-Eye not come along. "I think I've seen enough for today. Let's hike."
Ninety percent of me wanted to run as fast as I could. Ten percent stuck to business. "Let's drag one of these bastards along," it croaked out of a mouth dry with fear. "What the hell for?" Elmo demanded. "So I can carve it up and see what it is." "Yeah." The Lieutenant squatted and grabbed a body under the arms. It struggled feebly. Shuddering, I took hold of booted feet and hoisted. The creature folded in the middle.
"Hell with that," the Lieutenant said. He dropped his end, joined me. "You pull that leg. I'll pull this one."
We pulled. The body slid sideways. We started bickering about who should do what.
"You guys want to stop crapping around?" One-Eye snarled. He stabbed a wrinkled black finger. I looked back. Creatures had appeared on the battlements. I felt an increase in the dread the castle inspired.
"Something's happening," I said, and headed downhill, never letting go of the body. The Lieutenant came along. Our burden took a beating going through the rock and brush.
Wham! Something hit the slope like the stamp of a giant's foot. I felt like a roach fleeing a man who hated cockroaches and had his stomping boots on. There was another stamp, more earth-shaking.
"Oh, shit," Elmo said. He came past me, arms and legs pumping. One-Eye was right behind him, flying low, gaining ground. Neither offered to help.
A third thump, and a fourth, about equally spaced in time, each closer than the last. The last sent chunks of stone and dead brush arcing overhead.
Fifty yards down-slope One-Eye halted, whirled, did one of his magic things. A chunk of pale blue fire exploded in his upraised hands, went roaring up the hill, moaning past me less than a foot away. The Lieutenant and I passed One-Eye. A fifth giant stomp spattered our backs with shards of rock and brush.
One-Eye let out a mad howl and ran again. He yelled, "That was my best shot. Better dump that clown and scatter." He pulled away, bounding like a hare fleeing hounds.
A scream filled the valley of the Port. A pair of dots came hurtling over from the southern slope, almost too fast for the eye to follow. They passed over with a hollow, deep roar, and boomed like a god's drum behind us. I was not sure, but it seemed the dots were connected.
Another pair appeared, revolving about a common center. I got a better look. Yes, they were connected. They roared. They boomed. I glanced back. The face of the black castle had vanished behind a wall of color like paint thrown against, then running down, a pane of glass to which it would not adhere.
"Taken are on the job," the Lieutenant panted. His eyes were wild, but he clung to his side of our burden.
The damned creature got hung up. Panicky, we hacked its clothing free from a thorn bush. I kept looking up, expecting something to come down and smash us all over the slope.
Another pair of balls arrived, spraying color. They did no obvious harm, but kept the castle occupied. We freed our booty, hurried on.
A different sort of dot pair came, dropping from high above. I pointed. "Feather and Whisper." The Taken plunged toward the black castle, preceded by a high-pitched shriek. Fire enveloped the castle wall. Obsidian seemed to melt and run like candle wax, shifting the already grotesque decorations into forms even more bizarre. The Taken pulled out, gained altitude, came around for another pass. In the interim another pair of dots screamed across the Port valley and painted the planes of the air. It would have been a great show if I had not been so damned busy getting away.
The slope resounded to the stamp of an invisible giant. A circle fifteen feet across and five deep appeared above us. Sticks and stones flew. It missed by only a dozen feet. The impact knocked us down. A line of like imprints marched back up the slope.
Mighty though that blow was, it was less forceful than its predecessors.
Feather and Whisper swooped again, and again the face of the black castle melted, ran, shifted form. Then thunder racked the air. Barn-bam! Both Taken vanished in clouds of smoke. They wobbled out, fighting for control of their carpets. Both smouldered the way Feather had the night we captured Shed. They fought for altitude.
The castle turned its entire attention to them. The Lieutenant and I made our escape.
The Lily shuddered several times.
Shed was doing mugs and wondering which of his customers were Black Company. The shaking made him nervous. Then a shriek flashed overhead, rising, then falling as it whipped away north. A moment later the earth shivered again, strong enough to rattle crockery. He rushed into the street. One small, cunning part of him kept watching his customers, trying to determine who was watching him. His chance of escape had lessened drastically with the advent of the Company. He no longer knew who was who. They all knew him.
He hit the street as a second shriek came from the direction of the Enclosure. He followed pointing hands. A pair of balls joined by a cord whipped away to the north. Seconds later all Juniper was illuminated by a particolored glare.
"The black castle!" people said. "They hit the black castle."
Shed could see it from his street. It had vanished behind a curtain of color. Terror gripped his heart. He could not understand it. He was safe down here. Wasn't he?
Wasn't he? The Company had great wizards supporting it. They would not let the castle do anything. ... A mighty hammer blow threw stuff around the north slope. He could not see what was happening, but instantly sensed that the castle had struck at someone. Possibly that Croaker, who was up there keeping the place isolated. Maybe the castle was trying to open the road.
Crowd yammer directed his attention to two dots dropping from the blue. Fire enveloped the castle. Obsidian shifted form, writhing, then found its normal shape again. The flying attackers soared, turned. Another pair of balls hurtled in, apparently thrown from Duretile. And down came the carpet riders.
Shed knew who they were and what was happening, and he was terrified. Around him, the Buskin, taken unawares, went berserk.
He retained the presence of mind to consider his own position. Here, there, members of the Black Company were running for battle stations. Squads formed up. hurried off. Pairs of soldiers took stations apparently assigned against times when rioting and looting looked possible. Nowhere did Shed see anyone identifiable as his babysitter.
He slipped back inside the Lily, upstairs, into his room, dug into his secret place. He stuffed gold and silver into his pockets, dithered over his amulet, then hung it around his neck, under his clothing. He scanned the room once, saw nothing else he wanted to take, hurried back downstairs. There was no one in the common room but Sal, who stood at the door watching the display on the north slope. He'd never seen her more homebody and calm.
"Sal."
"Marron? Is it time?"
"Yes. I'm leaving twenty leva in the box. You'll do fine as long as the soldiers keep coming in."
"Is that up there what's been going on?"
"That's where it's been headed. It'll probably get worse. They're here to destroy the castle. If they can."
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know." He honestly did not. "Wouldn't tell you if I did. They would find out from you."
"When will you be back?"
"Maybe never. Certainly not before they pull out." He doubted the Company ever would. Or, if it did, it would be replaced. Its Lady seemed the type not to turn loose of anything.
He gave Sal a peck on the cheek. "Take care. And don't short yourself or the kids. If Lisa turns up, tell her she's fired. If Wally does, tell him I forgive him."
He headed for the back door. The flash and roar on the slope continued. At one point there was a howling which fluttered toward Duretile, but it broke up somewhere over the Enclosure. He put his head down and his collar up and followed alleyways toward the waterfront.
Only twice did he encounter patrols. Neither boasted a man who knew him. The first ignored him. The corporal commanding the second told him to get his ass off the street and went on.
From Wharf Street he could see the black castle once more, through the masts and stays of countless ships. It seemed to have gotten the worst of the exchange, which had died away. Thick, black smoke boiled out of the fortress, an oily column leaning a few degrees and rising thousands of feet, then spreading in a dark haze. On the slopes below the castle there was a twinkling and seething, an anthill-like suggestion of movement. He supposed the Company was hurrying into action.
The waterfront was in a frenzy. The channel boasted a dozen vessels heading out. Every other foreign ship was preparing to sail. The river itself seemed strangely disturbed and choppy.
Shed tried three ships before he found one where money talked loudly enough to be heard. He paid ten leva to a piratical purser and found himself a spot where he would not be seen from shore.
Nevertheless, as the crew were casting off, the man called Pawnbroker came racing along the pier with a squad of soldiers, shouting at the ship's master to hold fast.
The ship's master made an obscene gesture, told them where they could go, and began drifting with the current. There were too few tugs for the number of ships moving out.
For his defiance the skipper got an arrow through the throat. Astonished sailors and officers stood frozen, aghast. Arrows stormed aboard, killed more than a dozen men, including the mate and boatswain. Shed cowered in his hiding place, gripped by a terror deeper than any he had known before.
He had known they were hard men, men who did not play games. He had not realized just how hard they were, how savage they could be. The Duke's men would have thrown up their hands in despair and wandered away cursing. They would not have massacred anyone.
The arrows kept coming, in a light patter, till the vessel was out of range.
Only then did Shed peep out and watch the city dwindle slowly. Oh, slowly, did it drift away.
To his surprise none of the sailors were angry with him. They were angry, true, but had not made a connection between the attack and their last-minute passenger.
Safe, he thought, elated. That lasted till he began to wonder where he was bound and what he would do once he got there.
A sailor called, "Sir, they're coming after us in a launch." Shed's heart dropped to his ankles. He looked and saw a small ship pulling out, trying to put on sail. Men in Black Company uniform abused the crew, hurrying them.
He got back into hiding. After the mauling these men had taken, there was no doubt they would surrender him rather than suffer more. If they realized he was what Pawnbroker wanted.
How had the man picked up his trail?
Sorcery. Of course. Had to be.
Did that mean they could find him anywhere?
The fuss was over. It had been a dramatic display while it lasted, though not as impressive as some I've seen. The battle on the Stair of Tear. The fighting around Charm. This was all flash and show, more rattling to Juniper's people than to us or the denizens of the black castle. They did us no harm. The worst they suffered was the direct deaths outside their gate. The fire inside did no real harm. Or so the Taken reported.
Grimy, Whisper grounded her carpet outside my headquarters, trundled inside looking the worse for wear but unharmed. "What started it?" she asked.
The Lieutenant explained.
"They're getting frightened," she said. "Maybe desperate. Were they trying to scare you off or take you prisoner?"
"Definitely prisoner," I said. "They hit us with some kind of sleepy spell before they came after us." One-Eye supported me with a nod.
"Why were they unsuccessful?"
"One-Eye broke the spell. Turned it around on them. We killed three."
"Ah! No wonder they were upset. You brought one down with you?"
"I thought we could understand them better if I cut one up to see how he was made."
Whisper did one of her mental fades, communing with the mistress of us all. She returned. "A good idea. But Feather and I will do the cutting. Where is the corpse? I'll take it to Duretile now."
I indicated the body. It was in plain sight. She had two men carry it to her carpet. I muttered, "Don't damn trust us to do anything anymore." Whisper heard me. She did not comment.
Once the body was loaded, she told the Lieutenant, "Begin your preliminary siegework immediately. A cir-cumvallation. Limper will support you. It's likely the Dominator's creatures will try to break out or take prisoners, or both. Don't permit it. A dozen captives would allow them to open the pathway. You would find yourself facing the Dominator. He would not be kind."
"No shit." The Lieutenant is a tough guy's tough guy when it suits him. In those moments not even the Lady could intimidate him. "Why don't you clear out? Tend to your job and let me tend to mine."
His remarks didn't fit the moment, but he was fed up with Taken in general. He had been on the march with the Limper for months, and the Limper fancied himself a commander. He gave the Lieutenant and Captain both a bellyful. And maybe that was the source of the friction between the Company and Taken. The Captain had his limits, too, though he was more diplomatic than the Lieutenant. He would ignore orders that did not suit him.
I went out to watch the circumvallation of the black castle. Drafts of laborers arrived from the Buskin, shovels over their shoulders and terror in their eyes. Our men put down their tools and assumed guardianship and supervisory roles. Occasionally the black castle sputtered, making a feeble attempt to interfere, like a volcano muttering to itself after its energy has been spent. The locals sometimes scattered and had to be rounded up. We lost a lot of good will won earlier.
A sheepish yet angry Pawnbroker came looking for me, gravity accentuated by the afternoon sunlight. I eased away and went to meet him. "What's the bad news?"
"That damned Shed. Made a run for it in the confusion."
"Confusion?"
"The city went crazy when the Taken started sniping at the castle. We lost track of Shed. By the time Goblin found him, he was on a ship headed for Meadenvil. I tried to keep it from pulling out, but they wouldn't stop. I shot them up, then grabbed a boat and went after them, but I couldn't catch up."
After cursing Pawnbroker, and stifling an urge to strangle him, I sat down to think. "What's the matter with him, Pawn? What's he afraid of?"
"Everything, Croaker. His own shadow. I reckon he figured we were going to kill him. Goblin says it was more than that, but you know how he loves to complicate stuff." "Like what?"
"Goblin says he wants to make a clean break with the old Shed. Fear of us was the motivation he needed to get moving."
"Clean break?"
"You know. Like from guilt about everything he did. And from reprisals by the Inquisitors. Bullock knows he was in on the Catacombs raid. Bullock would jump on him as soon as he got back."
I stared down at the shadowed harbor. Ships were getting under way still. The waterfront looked naked. If outsiders kept running, we would become very unpopular. Juniper depended heavily on trade.
"You find Elmo. Tell him. Say I think you ought to go after Shed. Find Kingpin and those guys and bring them back. Check on Darling and Bullock while you're at it." He looked like a man condemned, but did not protest. He had several screw-ups to his credit. Being separated from his comrades was a cheap penalty to pay. "Right," he said, and hustled off.
I returned to the task at hand.
Disorganization resolved itself as the troops formed the locals into work crews. The earth was flying. First a good deep trench so the creatures from the castle would have trouble getting out, then a palisade behind that.
One of the Taken remained airborne, circling high above, watching the castle.
Wagons began coming up from the city, carrying timber and rubble. Down there other work crews were demolishing buildings for materials. Though they were structures unfit for occupation and long overdue for replacement, they housed people who were not going to love us for destroying their homes.
One-Eye and a sergeant named Shaky took a large labor draft around the castle, down to the roughest slope, and began a mine designed to drop part of the castle wall down the steep slope. They did nothing to conceal their purpose. Wasn't much point trying. The things we faced had the power to knife through any subterfuge.
Actually managing to breech the wall would be a tough job. It might take weeks, even with One-Eye helping. The miners would have to cut through many yards of solid rock.
The project was one of several feints the Lieutenant would employ, though the way he plans a siege, one day's feint can become another's main thrust. Drawing on a manpower pool like Juniper, he could exercise every option.
I felt a certain pride, watching the siege take shape. I have been with the Company a long time. Never had we undertaken so ambitious a project. Never had we been given the wherewithal. I wandered around till I found the Lieutenant. "What's the plan here, anyway?" Nobody ever told me anything.
"Just nail them down so they can't get out. Then the Taken will jump all over them."
I grunted. Basic and simple. I expected it would get more complicated. The creatures inside would fight. I
Fispect the Dominator was lying restless, shaping a counterstroke. Must be hell to be buried alive, able to do nothing but wish and hope at minions far beyond direct control. Such impotence would destroy me in a matter of hours. I told the Lieutenant about Shed's escape. He did not get excited. Shed meant little to him. He did not know about Raven and Darling. To him, Raven was a deserter and Darling his camp follower. Nothing special. I wanted him to know about Shed so he would mention it to the Captain. The Captain might want to take action more vigorous than my recommendation to Elmo.
I stayed with the Lieutenant a while, he watching the work crews, I watching a wagon train come uphill. This one should be bringing supper. "Getting damned tired of cold meals," I muttered.
"Tell you what you ought to do, Croaker. You ought to get married and settle down."
"Sure," I replied, more sarcastically than I felt. "Right after you."
"No, really. This might be the place to do it. Set yourself up in practice, catering to the rich. That Duke's family, say. Then, when your girlfriend gets here, you pop the question and you're all set."
Daggers of ice drove into my soul, twisting. I croaked, "Girlfriend?"
He grinned. "Sure. Nobody told you? She's coming out for the big show. Going to run it personally. Be your big chance."
My big chance. But for what?
He was talking about the Lady, of course. It had been years, but still they rode me about some romantic stories I wrote before I actually met the Lady. They always ride anybody about anything they know will get their goat. All part of the game. All part of the brotherhood.
I bet the son-of-a-bitch had been boiling with the news since first he heard it, waiting to spring in on me.
The Lady. Coming to Juniper.
I considered deserting for real. While there was a ship or two left to get away.