by Glen Cook
The Durandanti spun. His face was unnaturally pale. He had one of those lantern-jawed faces that looked like the planners forgot to put meat on over the bone.
"Hi!" Hecht smacked the man solidly between the eyes. "Ow! Damn! I forgot how much that hurts!" He shook his lingers vigorously. "My guess is, this fellow doesn't do this sort of thing for a living." His victim staggered two steps, cross-eyed, then went down on one knee.
"You're probably right, Your Honor. He was only trying to sound tough."
Hecht breathed on his knuckles. "I'm a Your Honor again, eh?"
"Just being careful, Your Honor. You've started smacking people."
Hecht chuckled. "You are like Buck. Help me move him over by that tree." The bony man had both knees and a hand down in the dust now.
Ghort and Vali arrived. The Durandanti, his back against a sapling, groggily worked on a leaky nose. Ghort asked, What did you do that for?"
"Seemed like the most direct way. Get that mare ready. We'll put him back aboard. Vali can ride pillion. That'll let us pick up the pace."
"You think they won't miss him?"
"I expect they will. We'll talk to him while we walk. He'll let us know what we need to do."
"Uhm." Ghort got it. In his own way.
They would pump the Durandanti full of false information while draining him of what he knew.
Hecht shared his theory about the Durandanti and Brotherhood getting into bed. Ghort readied the mare, then examined the Durandanti's nose. "Not broken. Not even bloody, just running bad. Got some tears going, too."
"You knocked the snot out of him, Your Honor." Pella giggled.
They made good time, now, and passed through Alicea without attracting attention an hour before sunset. They saw no other travelers till they neared the town. The area was busier than last time Hecht passed through. Ragged tents and shanties had appeared. Beggars came out. He had seen none of those before.
Hecht released the Durandanti two miles past Alicea, up the West Way, tied to a willow tree. With his horse tethered nearby, contentedly grazing. Master Stain Hamil had been cooperative. "You don't do a lot of yelling, you can get those ropes off pretty quick. You do yell, chances are you'll get robbed. Maybe even murdered."
Ghort and the children had dropped off just east of Alicea, turning back to get established at the Knight of Wands. Master Stain Hamil of House Durandanti was led to believe that they would scrounge supplies, catch up, and trek on east to Plemenza. Having been prisoners there Hecht and Ghort were able to talk about Plemenza convincingly.
Hecht entered the Knight of Wands carefully. It proved uncrowded. He spotted Ghort, joined him. Ghort asked, "It go all right?"
"Tied him to a tree. Left him his horse. He'll be home tomorrow night. If the boogies don't get him."
"We might be sorry. If they got balls enough to come after us on somebody else's turf. But I'm glad you didn't do the hard thing."
"He was a worker bee. He didn't even know why were chasing us. Did you get us in here?" The Knight of Wands was a sprawling derelict of a building, mostly story high, that had been added to a dozen times. The old parts looked like they would just fall down and be abandoned once they did. When Hecht arrived a boy younger than Pella was outside plugging holes leaking smoke using the contents of a bucket of mud. The smoke came from a fireplace in common room that needed its chimney cleaned. The upside of the smoke was that it helped quell the stench of the place.
"Sure. Room and board. Fleas, lice, and bedbugs on the house."
"Only because they don't have the imagination to charge. Where are the kids?"
"Out running around. They get along. Vali has problems, Pipe. I'm wondering if maybe somebody didn't rape her. Pella's trying to show her how to be a kid."
"Why doesn't she run away?"
"Not in her nature. If she was raised in a castle somewhere, with somebody doing everything for her but shit, it wouldn't occur to her to run. Biggest thing she ever did on her own was latch on to us, probably. Which took some major guts."
"Or absolute certainty that going with us couldn't possibly be more horrible than staying where she was. How long you figure it'll be before your cousins show up?"
"I'm not gonna argue about that no more. You want them to be my family, so be it." Ghort pretended to count on his fingers. "We had good winds. We probably made twice as many miles a day as them. But they came almost straight in north while we went the long way around."
"How about a straight answer?" Ghort sometimes created drama where there was none.
"They could turn up tomorrow. If they ran all the way. Which would depend on whether they think you got killed or not."
How does that make a difference?"
"Just brainstorming. If they got you, a shitload of people would be pissed off and looking for somebody to burn at the stake. If they didn't, they'd figure us to be a little more relaxed. Here come the kids. Must be getting scary dark out."
Pella and Vali dodged a scruffy one-eyed man who tried to keep them out because they were obvious refugee trash. They zipped to the table, seated themselves. Vali did not appear particularly remote or frightened. Pella announced, "We're hungry."
Hecht said, "I'm not surprised. It's been a long day."
The one-eyed man arrived. "These yer brats?"
"Right. And they'll be in and out for the next several days. Till the rest of our people get here."
Ghort told the children, "Let's see what they've got in the pot."
"Just checking. We got problems with thieves, anymore."
"Of course." Hecht told the children, "You two be on your best behavior while we're here."
"Yes, sir, Uncle Matt," Pella said, struggling to keep a straight face. Vali managed a nod. It took an effort.
"They're good kids," Hecht told the one-eyed man. "But they are kids. Full of energy. Hey. Where can we go to church?"
Later, with the children in bed, Hecht and Ghort relocated to a shadowed corner, unoccupied because it was so far from the fire. They observed the clientele, watching for anyone who might be waiting to meet their quarry.
"Cold back here," Ghort muttered.
"Lonely, too. And so dark hardly anybody… Well. Look here. Master Hamil figured out my knots."
The Durandanti rider had stumbled into the Knight of Wands, paler than ever, deeply frightened. With a big bruise on his forehead. Ghort observed, "That's a man what ain't used to being out in the country after dark."
"Sshh. Let's don't make him stop thinking we're headed for Plemenza."
The one-eyed man braced Hamil. Hamil could not show him coin or anything else of value.
"You robbed him?" Ghort asked.
"Sure did. Didn't want him thinking we're honest folks on a mission."
"Good for you. There he goes."
With help from the one-eyed man, who shoved the pallid Sonsan back into the darkness. Hamil protested all the way, invoking Don Alsano Durandanti.
"Think One-eye just made a booboo?" Ghort asked.
"Depends on how much the Don backs his troops. Uh-oh. Here's real trouble."
"What?"
"That dark corner over there. There's a guy in there. He wasn't there when we moved over here. I didn't see him slide in. He's wearing a pilgrim's robe. Catch him when the scullery boy throws the next load of wood on the fire."
Silent minutes passed. The boy who had been caulking earlier brought firewood to beat back the chill of the night. The fire flared briefly.
"Well," Ghort murmured, "was I a betting man, an' I been known to lay one down now an' then, I'd put money on that fellow being Ferris Renfrow's ugly twin."
"Maybe his evil twin?"
"I'd say Renfrow is the evil twin. Interesting, though. You think he's involved?"
"My guess? Only obliquely, if at all." Ferris Renfrow and his masters in the Grail Empire had no cause to murder the Patriarch's Captain-General. "I'd guess it's coincidental. This would be a natural gathering place for conspirators."
Ferris Renfrow did as they did. Sat in the shadows and watched. Hecht and Ghort picked out three men they felt deserved closer scrutiny.
Time rolled on. And on. Ghort muttered, "I wish that asshole would give up and go to bed. It was a long fuckin' day. I need some shut-eye."
"Uhm." Renfrow seemed to be paying them no heed. Hecht did not believe he was unaware of them. Their shadows were deeper than his, though.
Hecht began to feel the weariness, too.
"What're you doing, Pipe?"
"Going to see what he does when he recognizes me."
"Is that smart?"
Hecht shrugged. He crossed the room, stepping over and around sleeping men and men who had enjoyed too much of the heavy, dark, foul beer brewed by the Knight of Wands. Renfrow appeared disinterested at first, then started and swore, "Eis's bloody ass boils! What the hell are you doing here?"
Hecht settled beside the Imperial. "The very question I asked myself about you."
"I'm here on my lord's business."
"And I as well. With an added touch of the personal."
Renfrow contained his shock. "You're outside your home territories."
"Outside the Emperor's, too. Might be Sonsan."
"The Counts of Aloya, theoretically. But they haven't been seen since you and I were pups. Nobody's moved in because that would be more trouble than leaving the territory to rot."
Which would lead to banditry and chaos, eventually. Of course.
"I've had a long day. I just wanted you to know I'm here." Hecht headed for his quarters before Renfrow could respond. Ghort stayed where he was.
"He left right after you did," Ghort reported. "He looked like he'd had a major shock. I don't think he recognized me."
"I wouldn't count on it. Who's always around when I'm somewhere?"
"Go teach granny to suck eggs. Put the kids on him. He won't expect them."
Hecht nodded. "Warn them. So he doesn't see the connection right away."
Ferris Renfrow did not turn up next morning. Hecht asked a few questions but soon stopped. Questions about fellow guests were not well received. He assumed questions about himself would find equally small favor.
Renfrow did not reappear till the ownership opened the evening pot.
Prepared meals could be had any time but cost extra. Budget-minded guests lived out of the bottomless porridge and goulash pots. The ingredients of the latter varied according to what leftovers from custom cookery were available. One had to beware small bones.
Renfrow drew a portion and retreated into the same shadows as the night before.
Hecht had assumed his place in his own dark clot a half hour earlier. His day had been unproductive. The children had discovered nothing-though they did feed his suspicions of the men he and Ghort had tagged as probable villains. They were from farther north or west, by their accents. They had horses stabled behind the inn. The stable boys had been paid to keep their tack ready for instant use. They prayed a lot. Pella considered that the most damning thing about them.
Hecht told Pella to arrange for some of that tack to disappear.
The suspects did not seem unusually wary.
Sometime during their second morning there the Knight of Wands began to buzz. A Grolsacher mercenary force, supposedly armed with letters of marque from Sublime V, had come to a bad end in the Connec. Only a handful survived-by running faster than Count Raymone Garete could chase. One survivor was a dastardly coward of a bishop, Morcant Farfog of Strang. The band's captain, Haiden Backe, had been among the first to fall. Prisoners willingly betrayed the Patriarch's role in their bad behavior. Documentary evidence had been thin in the Grolsachers' camp, however. The actual letters of marque had vanished. Of course, they were extremely valuable instruments.
Ghort whispered, "Your boss is a raving madman, Pipe. What the hell was he thinking? That Raymone Garete was one of the guys who made the Calziran Crusade work. What kind of gratitude is that?"
"Typical gratitude. The gratitude of kings. Sublime has never been out of Brothe. He's never been outside his tiny little clique of family and associates. He only hears what they think he wants to hear. He honestly believes that most of the world thinks just like he does. That they're longing for a champion who'll lead them into the fray. He thinks big things will go his way because little things have ever since he was in diapers. He's absolutely convinced of his divine right and of Patriarchal Infallibility. I don't think there's any way to scrape the scales off his eyes. I've tried. Though I never get close enough to actually talk to him."
"People like that mostly end up prematurely dead."
"Now we know why Sublime and his gang weren't worried about money."
"Plundering the heretics was always part of his plan."
"It won't work out any better in the Connec than it did in Calzir. There's a lot of wealth there. That country has been peaceful for so long. But most of the wealth will get destroyed or disappear during the getting."
"Shit," Ghort murmured. "This news is gonna get back to Brothe before we do. Our asses are gonna be in a sling when they can't find us."
Hecht thought so, too. There would be a lot of running in circles, screaming and shouting, once this news reached the Mother City. Though it should not have much practical impact. "We might've made a bad career move, sneaking off."
"Maybe this guy will give us a job." He meant Ferris Renfrow, who was headed their way.
Renfrow said, "You've heard the news from the Connec."
Hecht nodded.
"You should know that while the results delight me, neither the Emperor nor I contributed to Haiden Backe's embarrassment."
"That makes it all right, then."
Renfrew grinned. Hecht had not seen that before. "Sublime… No. Mustn't show disrespect to the Father of the Church. But I have to wonder about a man who'd hire Grolsachers-and Backe in particular-after all the disasters involving those people the last ten years. It'll be a fearsome hard winter in Grolsach, for sure."
Ghort said, "He hired Haiden Backe because he couldn't find anybody else stupid enough. Never minding Sublime's genius. Grolsach is terrible. Not so bad to be from, though, on account of nobody expects a lot from you." More to himself, Ghort muttered, "Any Grolsacher tries to change their luck, he screws up and it just gets worse."
"Spoken like a man who knows whereof he speaks."
"Smart guys get out and find work somewhere else. Which helps them and Grolsach both because then there's fewer mouths to fill."
"If the smartest people emigrate, what does that say about those who don't?"
Ghort shrugged. He did not know Ferris Renfrow. He did know the man's reputation. The Imperial fancied himself the cleverest man around. And liked to show it in pointless debates.
Renfrow turned to Hecht. "You've got a couple of kids you're towing around. How come?"
"Cover. Plus, somebody has a soft streak." He nodded at Ghort. "Says one of them reminds him of him."
"Ugly kid?"
"First shot. They have their uses. Eyes and ears. Though the smaller boy is a mute."
"You came from Sonsa." Not a question.
Hecht nodded. Renfrow knew.
"What's going on there?"
"We weren't there long."
But long enough to collect a couple of street urchins, Renfrow said with his calculating gray eyes.
Ghort said, "The dump's a ghost town. I expected more people and more business. Guess they ain't never recovered from the Deve uprising."
"Perhaps."
Hecht knew Renfrow wanted to keep talking, but every question he asked revealed information as well. Which was why, in turn, Hecht did not ask about Vali Dumaine.
If anyone did know that story, Renfrow would.
So Hecht asked, "How much support will Lothar give the Duke of Clearenza?"
Renfrow chuckled. "What will the Patriarch do in response to fon Dreasser coming to his senses?"
Hecht smiled back.
Renfrow saw
something that interested him. Startled and disturbed him, perhaps. For a flickering instant. "He wouldn't have delusions of…"
"Plenty," Ghort said. "Illusions, too. He's loony as a band of rock apes on fermented fruit."
What did that mean? Hecht said, "We wouldn't be here if he was serious about that, would we?"
Renfrow grunted, headed out the front door.
A man went out after him. Hecht said, "That would be the man he hoped we wouldn't notice."
Ghort agreed. "Yes. And now I'm curious. Because that was Lyse Tanner."
"Don't know the name."
"He's from Santerin. One of the ones who ran out after their last succession squabble. He tried to get a commission from the Patriarch. His brother is a bishop. He didn't get the job."
"So he went to work for the Emperor?"
"He was probably on Renfrow's payroll first. Let's keep an eye on him. See who his associates are. If he brought any. Think Renfrow knows we caught it?"
"He won't assume we didn't, I expect."
"Pipe, I'm getting a little anxious. Things are going on around us. And we ain't got a clue what they are."
"That's the story of my life. I'd be worried if I thought I was getting on top of everything."
Hecht and Ghort were eating supper with the children when the deserters arrived. "That's them," Ghort whispered. He handed his bowl down to Vali, who pushed it under the bench. She was more relaxed but had not yet spoken. Ghort stared at the floor, letting the shadows disguise him.
Hecht whispered, "Pella. The men who just came in. Go outside and wait for them to come back out. Keep track. Don't be obvious." He glanced over. Ferris Renfrow had not yet crept into his evening shadow.
The children headed out the back way, Pella blathering about outhouses. Nobody paid attention. The brats had become furniture already.
"And now?" Ghort asked.
"And now I wish I'd had Pella go eavesdrop." The newcomers had begun by questioning the one-eyed man. If he had a name Hecht had yet to hear it. One-eye indicated one of the men Hecht had picked out earlier. The newcomers interrupted his before meal prayer.
The seated man was not pleased.
