by Brom Kearne
17
Thorn, Len Dietrich, and Melina Bann traveled together to the familiar surroundings of the Len Dietrich Public Health Care Clinic. Thorn was curious why they had come back to this place, and entertained the notion that he was being set up for some purpose, but Len Dietrich merely smiled his arrogant smile as he led them into the morgue, located beneath the western ward. Thorn, already uncomfortable being back in the hospital, grew even more uneasy being in such a place of death. Len Dietrich went to the far wall, in the corner, where he unlocked one of the cabinets in which bodies are stored. He asked Thorn to step back before swinging open the door of the cabinet, and with it came half of the wall.
In the space revealed was a stone staircase that led down to a room as large as the hospital above. It was fortified with pillars and was filled with machines and equipment for refurbishing guns.
As he primed the piezo-pump on a lamp Len Dietrich explained, “This hospital was originally a warehouse that served as the base for overland shipping. This room was used for storage and I had it closed off when I converted the building into a hospital.”
Thorn was impressed as he looked around in the light of the lamp. He picked up a concussion rifle and whistled. “I could do some damage with this.”
Melina took it from him and set it back on the table.
As Thorn looked around at the equipment and the scant guns that were present, he was struck by the feeling that this place hadn’t seen any use for some time. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything, and some of the piezo-pumps to power the machines didn’t even have crystals in them.
“It doesn’t look like you’ve been doing much here,” Thorn said as he picked through a pile of nonfunctioning guns.
“You don’t think that I would take you to one of my working gun refurbishing sites, do you?”
Thorn picked up the concussion rifle again and leaned against the table, shooting Melina a smug smile as he did so. “So why don’t you just distribute guns to everyone in town? Why go through organizing this gang?”
“You can’t put weapons of this caliber in the hands of ordinary people. They start getting ideas of empowerment. I don’t want them feeling empowered. I want them feeling loyal.”
Thorn ground his teeth together. He had heard the same kind of reasoning in Collective City. But he didn’t say anything. This was a good job, and he was determined not to do anything else to screw it up.
“So how do you get in touch with the gang?”
“I or Ms. Bann leave coded marks on secret places, alerting them to the time and date of a shipment. They, in turn, leave a response.”
“Since neither of you knows where their camp is, it seems like the best idea is to offer myself as bait. I could dress up as one of your employees and take a shipment of these guns that don’t work.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Len Dietrich mused.
“Does anyone else in your company know what you’re doing?”
“Of course not. If word got to the trade families that I was stealing guns from them, they would have me strung up from the bridge.”
“But you trusted me enough to tell me everything.”
“Are you having thoughts of double-crossing me? Perhaps you believe that the Browning Family would pay you well for the information you carry?”
Thorn shrugged. “I’d just like to know why you feel as though you can trust me with all this information in the first place.”
“There’s nothing you can do with the information, and you’ve been followed since you first came to my attention yesterday after attacking my front gate.”
“Right. I think you need to get better help then, because that guy you had following me didn’t do too good a job.”
“He did a fine job of distracting you from the other person who was following you, and of giving you the satisfaction of having dispatched someone so you wouldn’t look for anyone else.”
Thorn swallowed hard and met Melina’s icy gaze. Now it was her turn to offer him a smug smile.
“And you figure if I run off to sell my information to the trade caravan that you’ll know about it and will be able to stop me.”
“Remember that you’ll have two gang members accompanying you as your guards. You may also think of them as your watchers. And the gang will know you’re coming. They will find you and kill you before you can make it to the Browning Trade Caravan. They are just now outside of Herrickstead, if I’m not mistaken, so you’ll never make it.”
“If you’re offering yourself as bait, how do you plan on taking down Court Raleigh with the entire gang behind him?” Melina asked.
Thorn patted the casing of the concussion rifle. “If I had one of these babies I imagine I could do it.”
“Your job isn’t to murder half the gang,” Melina said harshly. “Your job is to bring in their renegade leader.”
“But you are thinking in the right direction, I believe,” Len Dietrich said. He thought for a moment, then went to a gun rack on the near wall where he selected a fat weapon with a round, bulbous head. “Maybe not a concussion, but a compression, rifle. These use sound waves that can be amplified and modulated with these controls here. On the highest setting they’re capable of shattering stone, and are sometimes employed for that purpose to clear roads or mountain passes. On some of the lowest settings the sound waves cause a disorienting and nauseating effect on their targets that is perfect for crowd control.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with their effects,” Thorn said, setting down the concussion rifle and taking the proffered compression rifle.
“There is one other matter I wished to discuss with you,” Len Dietrich said. “You were hunting the Amber Bones Gang because you were looking for one of their members? I need to know who and why.”
“And why do you need to know that?”
“I need to know everything.”
“It’s a friend’s son I’m looking for. I don’t even think he’s a full member of the gang yet. Name is Scott Tanning.”
“And why did he hire you to find him?”
“Because his son ran away from home and he was concerned.”
“As a member of my private army Scott Tanning stands to make a considerable amount of money when my plans come to fruition. After your job for me is finished you may report to the boy’s father that he is well taken care of. And in the event that he should meet with an unfortunate end in my service, his family will be made just compensation through my very generous survivor benefits package.”
“I think he’d rather have his son back and you can keep the survivor benefits.”
“I’m sure he would, but legally it’s the boy’s decision. And I don’t see him turning down what I have to offer.”
“Very well. I’ll send along his father’s message and let Scott decide for himself. So as far as my own plan goes, I just ride along with the two guards, wait until the Amber Bones have me surrounded and I’ve got Court Raleigh in my sights, whip out this fine piece of machinery and blast everyone with sound waves, grab Court Raleigh while everyone else is retching their guts out, and make my way back here. That about the gist of it?”
“That’s about the gist of it, yes.”
“Sounds easy enough. When do I head out?”
“I will need time to get in touch with the gang and to watch for their response. In the meantime rest up as my guest at the Lean and Pale. I’ll see that you’re well taken care of.”
The Lean and Pale Inn, Thorn discovered, catered mostly to the law enforcement population of the town. This is where the pale greens and Len Dietrich’s private police came when they wanted to unwind. Thorn regretted being so open with Len Dietrich so as to arouse his suspicion to such a level, but Thorn was putting an awful lot of trust in the man and wanted to know for certain that he was not getting himself into trouble. He never had any intention of running to the Browning Trade Caravan to divulge what he had learned. Thorn didn’t trust the trade families any more than he trusted Len Dietrich or Mayor Dinesh o
r anyone else. Sure, there was the possibility that they would pay him well for the information. But there was also the possibility that once they had extracted everything they wanted to know from him that he would disappear entirely. They were certainly powerful enough and unscrupulous enough to do it.
But the point was not lost on Thorn of being housed in the Lean and Pale until it was time for him to leave that evening: Len Dietrich didn’t trust him either, and wanted to keep a very strict eye on him until it was time to move out. Thorn was still feeling invincible from the doctor’s injection that morning, and was more than willing to shake things up if it came to that. And by “shake things up,” he meant that he was more than willing to get into a massive bar fight right here in police central if it would send back the proper message to his new employer.
Thorn wasn’t the only one who was looking to “shake things up.” With most of the pale greens having been incarcerated, and with everyone on the docks suddenly finding themselves without anything to do except to enjoy free liquor and food, the inn was jam-packed. Despite the presence of Len Dietrich’s police it was also quite rowdy. They didn’t seem interested in the least at preserving the peace or in putting a stop to people who got into fights or broke stuff.
Thorn elbowed his way to the bar and had a rum and soda set in front of him. Rum was the most popular drink on the wharf, the taste for it having been brought up from Level Shore and the islands beyond.
Len Dietrich had made sure that, despite the inn’s being overcrowded, Thorn had a room to stay in. Thorn knew that he’d be better off if he went upstairs and tried to shut out the noise and get some sleep. He was going on a job, after all, and it would require his full attention, even if it did seem like the job itself would be a breeze. And he knew that he shouldn’t be getting into fights or drinking too hard. But for all the “shoulds,” Thorn found himself in the middle of the bar drinking hard, and that bartender kept sliding fresh drinks in front of him whenever he reached the bottom of his tin cup.
“Hey, I saw you at town hall this morning,” said a rowdy sailor at Thorn’s elbow. “You’re Len Dietrich’s little pet boy, are you?”
He pushed Thorn, and that was all the provocation Thorn needed. It would feel good to blow off some steam before heading out on this job. He wound up, but before he could deliver the blow a couple of other workers stepped in between them.
“What have you got against Mr. Dietrich, huh?” they demanded.
The first worker spat on the floor.
“It ain’t right, is it? Arresting the police and town hall, giving us the rest of the week off. He’s just taking the power for himself, he is, and all you are dancing along to his merry tune.”
“So what if he is? Ain’t no one ever gave me a week off with pay before.”
“Who owns this city, huh? It sure as hell ain’t us. You’re just going to let Len Dietrich take whatever he wants, are you? Let him get richer off the sweat of your brow? And what happens after this week is over, huh? He ain’t gonna keep us like little women forever, is he? Is the work still gonna be here? How are you gonna feed your family when there ain’t no work to be had here ‘cause Len Dietrich’s dried it all up?”
“You heard him clear as the rest of us. He’s gonna pave the streets with gold, he is. He’s smart, unlike you. He’s got a plan and if we just stick with it we’ll be rolling in money in no time.”
The first worker spat on the floor again. “I’ll take a good solid paycheck over an empty promise any day of the week. And Mayor Dinesh always took our sides, didn’t he? He was always there to help the workers of this town. He was one of the few bulwarks we had against your Len Dietrich.”
“Dinesh was Dietrich’s puppet. He didn’t do jack that Dietrich didn’t approve of.”
Thorn was frustrated that the fight had, so far, been confined to words and not fists. He didn’t care one whit for all this political posturing. He wanted the opportunity to knock someone’s lights out, and that had been taken away from him when those other workers entered the argument. But the first worker, the particularly rowdy one that hated Len Dietrich so much, was not alone in his sentiment. He soon gathered others that took his side and before long the barroom floor was divided between them. Len Dietrich’s private police seemed curiously uninterested in the brewing battle. They kept amongst themselves and only seemed interested in the lines that were being drawn insofar as they expected to see a good brawl.
There was some pushing and shoving as the shouting ratcheted up. Thorn was right in the middle of it. He had been pushed to the side of Len Dietrich supporters, although he felt no loyalty to the man. He had lined himself up to take down the rowdy worker who had shoved him.
Before things progressed much further into violence, however, and just as the worker was pulling his fist back to punch, still ranting loudly about Len Dietrich and how they were all being used, a thin arm snaked under his and around his neck from behind and slammed him face-first into one of the bolted-down tables. The rest of his compatriots, shocked and utterly deflated, stepped away from the young woman standing in their midst.
Melina Bann stared them down with her icy blue eyes while the rowdy worker bled from the nose on the floor.
“You will get your revolution,” she said. “And the streets will be paved with gold.”
One of the braver workers from the far side of the crowd said, “You’re Len Dietrich’s lackey. Why should we believe you?”
There were a few assents, but in one quick motion Melina had taken the fight and the bluster out of them all. Thorn hadn’t even seen her come in. He’d been so focused on that one rowdy worker that he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. He blamed it on the opium. And the rum. But mostly he blamed it on his own pigheadedness. His head felt clearer than it ever had, and yet at the same time it felt cloudier. The things he should have been paying attention to didn’t even register with him, while the things that were utterly unimportant seemed to have taken on great significance.
“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Melina said. “The revolution is coming. You can embrace it and march with us, or you can be trampled and left behind. Your choice.”
The Lean and Pale had gone utterly quiet, but that didn’t seem to faze Melina one bit. After staring down everyone in the bar she snapped at the bartender, ordering a soda without any alcohol in it. He promptly set it on the bar.
“With me,” she said and motioned for Thorn to follow her. It was the same motion, the same crisp tone of authority, which her employer had used that morning. Thorn was again struck by how fluid and efficient her every movement was. He stepped over the worker clutching his bleeding nose on the floor and followed her up the stairs and past the bedrooms to a balcony that overlooked the wharf. Here she ordered the current occupants of the corner table to leave before sitting down herself.
She sat on the bench seat with her back to the corner and the balcony ledge to her left side. It was a very defensible position, with a view of anyone who might come out of the inn, as well as a clear view down the wharf.
“Are you expecting trouble?” Thorn asked as he sat down opposite her.
“You saw what they think of Len Dietrich and his lackey. I don’t believe that it’s quite sunk in with them yet that the Bradenfield police have been dismissed and that there is no law in this town. They are currently in a state of anarchy and can currently do anything they wish, and yet they choose to wallow in these filth holes along the wharf. I suppose it’s true what they say of human nature.”
“And what is it they say about human nature?”
Melina ignored the question. “And you’re no better than they are. You’re given a few hours to rest up for a job and you take the opportunity to become slovenly drunk and get into bar fights.”
“I didn’t get into any bar fights. You put a right stop to that.”
“But you wanted to. I saw it in your eyes.”
“Just expressing my base human nature,
I guess.”
Melina gazed out over the river. The sun was low in the sky and cast a melon-colored hue over the landscape. The river was eerily calm without the barges moving up and down it, without the ringing of the wharf bells and the creaking of the loading cranes, and without the constant whoosh of the inflow and outflow of water in the lock. The scene over the river was serene, like a portrait.
“Your friend’s son, what’s his name again?”
“Scott Tanning.” Thorn produced the photograph that Rich had given him and showed it to her. “Have you seen him?”
Melina looked at the young man in the photograph for a few moments before shaking her head and handing the picture back. “And he was your only reason for tracking down the gang?”
“Before Dietrich gave me the job, yeah.”
“Thorn, I wanted to ask you something.” Melina’s voice had taken on an earnestness that made Thorn a little uneasy. “Do you support this?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mr. Dietrich’s plan for the city. Taking control of trade in the Free Lands and pushing out the trade caravans.”
Thorn shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter to me.”
“You don’t have a problem with one man seizing that much power for himself?”
“As opposed to the power the trade caravans currently wield? It’s not my fight. Besides, if he can follow through on his ambition to provide trade on demand, rather than having to wait for a caravan to come through, I think that might be a good thing. If I run out of coffee I could just go and put an order in for some more.”
“Coffee, or opiates?”
Thorn looked surprised, although Melina’s cold eyes didn’t seemed to revel in the cleverness of her assertion.
“I noticed the symptoms,” she said dismissively. “It takes a former addict to know one, I suppose.”
“I’m not an addict; I just had one shot.”
“But it made you feel real good, didn’t it? Made you feel a thrill for life that you’d thought had been worn away by the years, didn’t it?”
Thorn closed his mouth.
“It won’t just be one shot, and you may not be an addict yet but you’re on the threshold. Would you fight for the trade caravans if the price were right?”
“I—” Thorn began, but he didn’t really know what to say. His head was spinning from Melina’s insight into his character and he was afraid to say anything lest she peer further into his psyche.
“You would, because you don’t believe in anything,” Melina finished for him.
“It’s not my fight,” Thorn said. “If you don’t like the way things are going you could always just move out to the Western Frontier. That’s what I did, and every time I come into town I appreciate that decision more and more. And no, I usually steer clear of the trade caravans. They’re a headache to work for.”
“I think you’ll find Mr. Dietrich a headache to work for. What if I gave you the opportunity to turn on him and walk away from this job?”
“I don’t know what your angle is, but I’m being paid very well for this.”
“That’s what I thought. You’re a mercenary and you don’t believe in anything.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What exactly do you believe in if not looking after yourself and your own self-interests?”
“I used to be like you. I was an orphan. Invisible. I didn’t believe in anything outside of my own self-interest, and I did a lot of things to survive that I’m not very proud of. But I was born to survive. I watched as other people died while I grew stronger. But I learned that it is an empty existence, only looking after yourself. I would rather make a difference. I can’t turn a blind eye to everything anymore. Not like you.”
“To everything? I’m not following you. And why would you want me to turn on Len if you support this revolution he keeps talking about?”
Melina finished her tin cup of soda water and rose from the table. “I don’t want you to turn on him. He sent me to test your loyalty, and you passed.” She nodded towards the sun, which had sunk lower in the sky as they were talking. “It will be dark soon. Your wagon will be ready to depart. I’ve left a farmer’s disguise in your room. Change and meet me by the loading area at the wharf.”
In the blink of an eye she was gone, and Thorn was left, again, to admire her quick and agile nature.
