by Kage Baker
I won’t make her mistakes. I won’t be stupid. I’ll leave Krelan here and go right back down this hill.
Shellback turned in off the street, where steps led up a terrace to the very last and highest house, a modest mansion built of white limestone blocks. Black and green moss furred the walls on its north face, hid the red roof-tiles under a splotched pattern of green. He climbed the steps past the namepost. It was a new post, carved with the name WHITEGOLD.
“There it is,” Eliss murmured. Krelan raised his head and peered from under the brim of his hat.
“Whitegold? Not Waxcast?”
“No,” said Eliss, feeling sick with relief. “Somebody else. Look, let’s go back down and find the city guard. We can tell them Shellback’s here. Maybe there’ll even be a reward.” She turned and looked down at last. There was the wide expanse of the lake, with its clear center and the floating shrine almost too tiny to make out. And there, right over there, she spotted the Bird of the River at its dock. It looked small as a scrap of plank, too far below to make out anyone on its deck. But Mr. and Mrs. Riveter were down there, and Wolkin and Tulu, and Pentra, and tonight there would be a fish dinner and Mr. Turnbolt would light the deck lamps and everything would be safe and normal.
“That’s a brand-new namepost,” said Krelan slowly. “In front of an old house.”
“What if it is?”
“Wouldn’t you think Waxcast would take a new name?” said Krelan. “An alias? After all he’d done and gotten away with? I certainly would, were I Mr. Waxcast.”
“You think that’s his house?” Eliss found herself whispering, though Shellback had already knocked on the door and been admitted.
“He’d have the money to buy himself a mansion, wouldn’t he? After robbing my lord. A mansion in an out-of-the-way place where he’d have a good view of anyone approaching him,” said Krelan harshly, but she knew the tone in his voice was not for her.
“But what can we do?”
“I’m going to do my duty,” said Krelan, watching the house. “You’re going to go back down the hill to the Bird. That’s all. If you don’t see me by tomorrow morning, I’m not coming back. Eliss, you’re beautiful and smart and you’re the sort of girl I could never get, a little shrimp like me. But I loved you. Just know that. I really did love you.”
He strode away from her, heading for the house. Eliss stood there with her mouth open, watching him go. Time to walk away. Time to walk away, even if he loved me.
“Are you insane?” she hissed, running after him. Krelan made no reply, but waved behind himself with one arm, making impatient shooing gestures. He did not climb the steps of the house but kept on walking past it, continuing up the hill to where the street crested at the top.
There was a high green hedge there at street level, masking the view into a terrace garden behind the house. The street continued around past it and down in a service alley on the other side. Beyond the top of the hill was nothing but blowing mist and a sheer plunge into a forested valley below.
Eliss assumed Krelan was making for the service alley, perhaps to find a rear entry to the house. She hurried to catch up with him. As they passed the hedge, however, they heard a door opening and a deferential voice say, “The person to see you, master.”
“Thank you,” said another voice from the terrace garden. Krelan halted abruptly.
“Hello there,” said a voice Eliss recognized as Shellback’s.
“Good to see you again! Paver, you may go.”
“At once, master.”
Krelan sank to his knees beside the hedge. With infinite care, in perfect silence, he began bending the twigs to one side and another, clearing a tiny space through which to peer at what was going on in the garden on the other side. Eliss sat down beside him, trying to catch his eye, but all Krelan’s attention was fixed on what he could see beyond the hedge.
They heard the servant depart and what sounded like a set of terrace doors closing. Krelan leaned forward. His face became rigid, like a mask, his eyes staring.
“I’d been hoping you’d call on me soon,” said the voice that wasn’t Shellback’s. “Is that my gold?”
“That’s right,” said Shellback, in the same amiable voice in which he’d thanked the dead bank officer. “Here you go. Open it and have a look.”
They heard the scrape of the ironbound box being—slid across a table? Eliss saw Krelan start forward so violently she thought he’d fall through the hedge. She put out a hand to grab his shoulder.
“What in seven hells is this?”
“That’s the gold I haven’t got.” All the smiles had gone out of Shellback’s voice. “I lost four good men in Krolerett, and I got nothing out of the job but one gold chain, and you know why? Because you sold me useless intelligence. You said the place had no militia. Well, surprise! They had. So I’ll thank you to fill that box with my refund. You can start with those rings you’re wearing. I’ll walk around behind you now, slow and easy. You call your man. Have him bring your cash box here. Fuck with me and I’ll drive this into the back of your neck.”
“Look, Tinplate—”
“Call me Shellback!”
“Shellback. Am I to understand you didn’t get my deposit box?”
“Hell no. The guard chased after us and found where we’d dumped the loot. They got everything back. If you want your fucking deposit box you can go get it yourself, now. After you’ve paid me. And you will pay me. Call your man.”
“Shellback, friend, you need to consider whether this is altogether wise. Haven’t I made you a lot of money this summer? Are you really going to end a profitable relationship over one bungled job?”
“Money doesn’t matter a damn once it’s spent. Anyway I’ve paid through the nose for every one of your little files. And anyway, you’ve outlived your value.”
“Gods below, why would you say that? I’ve only just started my career.”
“Ha! Krolerett’s on their guard now; we’ll never get back in there. Silver Trout’s building a wall around itself. Nobody’s going to take Synpelene again for another generation. The good loot’s all gone. You’ve run out of files.”
“I beg to differ. Wouldn’t you like a way into Prayna-of-the Agatines?”
They heard Shellback catching his breath. “You said you wouldn’t sell Prayna.”
“That was then. I’ve cut my ties. It’s yours to sack, if you can pay the price. And I’m expanding my influence! There are easier ways to get rich than plundering dirty little towns, Shellback. Think of all the mansions on these hills. What if you knew exactly where the doors and windows were on each one, how many servants were in the house, where the household treasure’s kept, when the master comes and goes?
“All my neighbors got stinking rich on emeralds. I’ve invested in a few mines and expect to get stinking rich myself, soon. I’ll be moving in their society. Invited to their dinner parties. Gathering all those little details you’d need. Hell of a lot easier to take a house than a city, Shellback, especially when it’s one of these houses. And why stop with loot? I can tell you where their nurseries are. There’s money to be made in taking kiddies for ransom, you know. And why stop with Karkateen? What’s to keep you out of Mount Flame, or Salesh?”
There was a silence, and then a soft whistle of awe from Shellback. “I always thought the rich hung together. You don’t give a damn about your own, do you?”
“What kind of businessman would I be if I did?”
“Fair enough. I’ve still got a problem, Encilian.”
The last loose end knotted itself, with a yank that shook Eliss. Of course. The point of leaving the serpent armlet on the body had been so people would identify the dead man as Encilian Diamondcut. Of course. The point of cutting off the head had been so people wouldn’t realize the dead man was really Stryon Waxcast, a poor servant who looked enough like Encilian to be taken for his brother. . . . She cast a cautious glance at Krelan, but his face was hidden by leaves at his improvised peephole.
“Not Encilian! Mr. Whitegold, if you please.”
“Heh. All right, Mr. Whitegold. This impresses me, but my men will want something more. What about a cash payment? Just the refund for the Krolerett file. That’s what any good businessman would do.”
“You’re right. It is. Well, let me see . . . cash is in short supply just now. I think I mentioned I’ve been investing, didn’t I? But I’ll tell you what I can do for you. I’ve got a few buckets of raw emeralds in my study. Samples from my mines. Lot of big lovely green stuff, probably worth twice what you paid for Krolerett if you get the best stones cut. What do you say I fill this box with emeralds?”
“I’d call that fair dealing.” Shellback sounded enthusiastic.
“Why don’t you just step to one side here, then—”
There was a muffled crash. “You fucker—”
Krelan was gone suddenly, diving through the hedge. Eliss scrambled to the place opened by his passage. There stood Encilian Diamondcut, gripping the wrists of Shellback. They had been struggling together, but not now; Encilian was grinning as he held Shellback up for Krelan, who had knifed Shellback several times and sprung away, watching cold-faced as Shellback died. Shellback groaned and sagged. Encilian opened his hands and let him fall. Shellback toppled to the garden flagstones and lay there with his eyes rolled back in his head.
Wheezing, Encilian pulled up a wrought-iron chair and sat down. He spat on Shellback’s body. He was fatter, sleeker than he had been when his portrait was painted. Krelan remained perfectly still.
“Must find myself a better class of client,” said Encilian. He looked up. “Gods below, it’s little Krelan. I like the hat! Suits you. You are a survivor. I always suspected your brother was wrong about you. How did you manage to get past his hirelings?”
“You knew about them?” Krelan blurted.
Encilian, having caught his breath at last, smiled. “ ‘You knew about them, my lord?’ I’ll grant you the one slip, after your usefulness just now, but don’t push it. Yes, I know all your brother’s plans. Just as he knows all mine. He devoutly hoped you’d get yourself killed on the river. Certainly never dreamed you’d get as far as you have. And neither of us imagined you’d actually find me! You’re not only lucky, you’re smart. I like that.”
“My lord is too kind,” said Krelan stiffly.
“That’s better. I’m a bit relieved, to be honest. Having you killed seemed such a waste. Your brother’s a little too preoccupied with his own business to be a really effective shadow. Or all that loyal a retainer . . .” Encilian rubbed his index finger across his chin. “To hell with him. I’ll send word to your brother you died. You’re my man, Krelan. You’ll work for me here. I need someone I can trust to run Enterprise Encilian.”
“What exactly would that be, my lord?”
“Striking out on my own,” said Encilian, flashing a smile. “Just like old Lord Harrik, eh? Founding my own Family. Why be a second-rate Diamondcut when I could be the first of the White-golds? I suppose you found out about Stryon.”
Krelan nodded. His face was still impassive, but Eliss saw the building fury in his eyes. “He was one of the Family, wasn’t he?”
Encilian made a dismissive gesture. “One of Father’s bastards. Your brother found him for me, as a matter of fact. Perfect match, wasn’t he? Nobody guessed!” He edged forward to the front of his chair, face alight. “What was it like when the body was brought home? Did they weep for me? Did they hire a Cursing Priest? Your brother writes the most unimaginative letters. You must have been there. What was the funeral like? Tell me!”
“Appropriate for a Diamondcut, my lord. Was my lord aware he’d fathered a bastard of his own?”
“What? I never.”
“In Krolerett, my lord. A tavern girl.”
“Oh, that. Gods, what do you take me for? She was some silly cow Stryon was infatuated with. I let him pose as me to court her. Seemed a good idea to muddy the trail and I wanted to see whether his clothes fit me. So the dirty deed had consequences? I did him a favor, then. She can’t come whining after him where he’s gone!” Encilian laughed and smacked the garden table. “All that and he gets my niche in the family vault too. Which is a nice one. No, he really can’t complain.”
“He was an innocent man and a Diamondcut, and you murdered him.”
“What? He was nothing!”
“He wasn’t a broker for thieves. He never betrayed his own people to demons,” said Krelan, gasping as though it took more air than was in his body to get the accusations out. “He never dishonored his family. I saw the bodies lying in the streets at Synpelene. You’re a disgrace, Encilian.” His hand was trembling as he gripped his knife. Encilian’s smile faded.
“You little piece of shit. You disapprove? You? And here I thought you were the brains of your family. Well, it’s a shame, Krelan, but I can get along without you. Kill yourself.”
Krelan’s arm swung up, as though by reflex, and halted. Eliss caught her breath.
“No,” said Krelan. “Your father gave me a job. He wanted your head brought home.”
Encilian gaped at him a moment. He leaned back, chuckling as if in disbelief. “You took a vow, remem—” and then without warning kicked the garden table straight at Krelan. The table caught Krelan full in the chest and carried him backward, down a flight of three little steps to the lower terrace, where he lay sprawling. Encilian, with remarkable speed for a man of his bulk, grabbed up the ironbound box and hurled it straight at Krelan’s head. Eliss saw Krelan jerk as the box hit him. Encilian drew a knife from inside his robe and started down the steps, muttering “Fucking disloyal little—”
Eliss wanted, more than anything, to slink away down the hill, and knew it was what she ought to do, and that it was what Krelan wanted her to do. But as in a dream she found herself diving through the hedge onto Encilian’s back, knocking him down the stairs too. She hoped he’d fall on his knife, but he didn’t. She pounded his head into the flagstones, once and then again, but he got hold of her arms and wrenched her off to the side, and a second later he had rolled over on her and was holding her down, glaring at her. Blinking, catching his breath, he began to grin.
“Hello,” he said. “Who the hell are you, Gorgeous?”
He’ll kill me. He’ll rape me and kill me and Krelan and I will be thrown in a ditch together and I did it for love, I stupidly, stupidly did it for love. Rage gave her strength to heave upward with her whole body. She nearly threw him off. He hit his elbow on the flagstones falling back down, and grunted in pain. Furious, he struck her across the face and got his hand on her throat. Pushing against her windpipe, he raised himself to his knees. The silver chain and crystal charm she wore cut into the skin of her neck. He picked up his knife.
“How did a shriveled little maggot like Krelan get a beauty like you?” said Encilian, panting. “You want to die with him? You’ll die with him, bitch. But I get you first.”
Through her pain and desperation, Eliss heard Uncle Steelplate roaring at Falena, saw Falena knocked to the floor, and all she could do was huddle under the bed with Alder and pray—
I will NOT be that frightened little girl—
Eliss sat up and punched Encilian in the crotch, as hard as she could. He dropped his knife and doubled up. She dragged herself backward and away from him, struggling to her feet. She hesitated a moment too long before deciding to reach for his knife. He snatched her wrist and jerked her down to her knees beside him. She grabbed the knife with her other hand. He grabbed it too. There was a long moment of silence punctuated only by Encilian’s harsh breathing as they strained together. Sweat was running down his face. His teeth were bared. Eliss felt her wrist bending, knew the bones were going to snap soon. Holy gods, please—
The wind was blowing loudly. The soft moan coming over the hilltop had taken on an odd bass note.
Eliss felt the flagstones under her knees beginning to vibrate. Hazily she wondered whether an earthquake had chosen that mo
ment to happen. Suddenly the light was gone, as though the day had jumped hours forward into twilight. She looked up involuntarily, and Encilian looked too, and they saw the black cloud mass descending on the house. There came a pattering sound like rain. Eliss thought it was rain, until she saw the green bits leaping into the air and realized the moss from between the flagstones was shooting upward in little jets of mud and water. They spattered against Encilian’s face, into his eyes, into his nose and mouth. He let go of her wrists and clawed at his face. Eliss crawled away on her knees and elbows. She averted her face from the flying muck, but it whirled around her like flies, avoiding contact.
There was a deep shattering sound. The house was rattling. Eliss could hear Encilian’s servants screaming and running out the front door. Flagstones flipped aside as water fountained from the earth, scattering pieces of broken terra-cotta that bounced and clattered away. The sewer pipes under the house had broken, under the strain of a massive surge of dirty water fighting its way skyward from the depths of the lake. The water seemed to be aiming itself at Encilian, striking him from every direction, but instead of splashing off him it wrapped itself around him and clung, as though it became viscous on contact. It turned him round and round, like a floating ball in a fountain. His mouth was open and Eliss thought she could hear him screaming, under the thunder of the broken pipes and the growling wind.
And what was that new noise? A sizzling, a hissing: the very mold and moss was tearing itself from the limestone blocks of the house and flying through the air like leaves, dancing in the slipstream around the spinning cocoon of filthy green water until they too were pulled into it. Encilian was only briefly visible now in the rotating column. Eliss, staring, followed it up with her eyes and saw the moving shape in the boiling black cloud, the form like a dragon or some other sinuous green thing, and yet—no—here was a glimpse of massive shoulder, an indistinct profile, gigantic and dark and blurred. A lashing beard the color of waterweed, that broke the roof-tiles on the house. An immense thick hand reaching down, a glimpse of a vast raging countenance . . .
