by Glen Cook
114
Shadowslinger, Barate, and accomplices employed intimidation, negotiation, and more intimidation to evade custody. It helped that the Crown Prince was a friend and big fan of Furious Tide of Light, complicity in whose murder by an Orthodox magister had provoked the Chattaree invasion. A witness statement from one Niea Syx tilted the balance-once Shadowslinger agreed to underwrite repairs.
That promise was likely worth the paper on which it wasn’t written. It would happen only if Constance found Meyness Stornes’s stolen money.
Mikon said a stash existed. He didn’t know how much. Meyness had thrown money away lately, arguing that there was no point having a fortune he was too dead to spend.
Shadowslinger eyed my crew and its featured captive. I observed, “You’re looking remarkably hale after your debility and extended day.”
She grunted, then glared at Stornes-sparing just enough attention to make sure that nobody with a grievance did anything premature.
The possibility of treasure had softened vengeful attitudes, though.
The Church’s money had been filtering through Magister Bezma’s sticky fingers for a long time.
Singe gave me a dirty look, knowing that I was thinking treasure, too. She figured I was well off enough already. I owned a house on the Hill.
She willfully ignores the fact that I have a house full of females, some getting fashion conscious and all too damned — liberal with my funds. How could it hurt to put together a pile too big for them to spend?
Oddly, no one objected to Singe’s presence.
Bashir came in to announce, “The Lady Orchidia Hedley-Farfoul has asked to join the conversation.”
Bash was holding up well for a man who had lost his wife-so thought a widower who had spent several days willfully and with malice aforethought holding up well himself. I knew what was going on inside Bash’s head. The truth shone through when he eyed Meyness Stornes.
Stornes was oblivious. He had vested himself in a false conviction that the Breaker friends of his youth would make allowances.
Idiot. He could really think that way while surrounded by people whose family members would be celebrating All-Souls from the shady side because of the wicked ambition of Meyness B. Stornes?
He appeared to lose volume and mass when Shadowslinger chirped, “Bring her in, Bashir. It would be unfriendly and impolitic to deny Orchidia a part in the process. She lost more than any of us.” She laid a ferocious scowl on Kevans, who took the hint to remain silent. The girl could be intimidated by her grandmother.
Shadowslinger asked, “Richt? You want to say something about your niece?”
“Only that I suggest you be careful what you wish for.”
He and Constance glanced at me. For no obvious reason most everyone moved a step this way or that, as though some silent, unconscious realignment had begun.
Bashir said, “Very well, madame.” He offered Constance a shallow bow, then moved a step toward me. He murmured, “I have seen the dogs fed and bedded down, sir.”
“Why, thank you.” Somewhat surprised.
Out he went.
In came the Black Orchid, slightly more than a minute later.
115
Slightly more than a minute. Into that interim I interjected the announcement “My matchless resources have discovered the ballista used against Strafa.”
I wouldn’t say that there was a stunned silence, nor even a nervous or guilty silence.
“It’s in the basement at Strafa’s house, disassembled. It appears to have resided there for decades. Someone took it out, refurbished it, assembled it, and used it-then broke it down and put it back.”
Singe oozed closer, till she was in actual contact on my left. She had a look on that said that this was something I should have shared with her before we ended up isolated among sorceresses, with temperatures falling.
Though it may have sounded that way, I hadn’t meant to be accusing.
Then in came the Black Orchid, having overheard my announcement.
Meyness Stornes was one of the more relaxed people in the room now.
I saw no signs of guilty knowledge. People still moved, realigning. The Machtkess girls drifted closer to me.
Orchidia grabbed my right elbow almost as if we were a couple. “Are you suggesting something?”
“No. Just reporting. But part of the report has to be that Meyness Stornes had nothing to do with Strafa’s murder, considering he had no access to the weapon, the timing was wrong, and Vicious Min, far from being a Dread Companion, was a hired hand. So is the one protecting the kid who keeps turning up. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s Min’s brother.”
Constance Algarda had become a great blank-face pile of blubber who, nonetheless, radiated the suspicion that a certain former Marine might not be as dim as he put on.
Hard to be, some might argue. Not while being deft enough to stay alive without the protection of a dedicated murder of guardian angels.
“Well?” Orchidia, but speaking to me or to the crowd?
It was a tense moment. She, for reasons unclear, was an ally for now.
“Well. .,” I responded. “Well. It’s self-evident that somebody knows more about what happened than they’ve admitted so far.” Maybe even Dr. Ted, who could be considered a principal but wasn’t with us tonight.
Bashir reappeared. “Excuse the additional interruption. .” His eyes got big as his body arched.
The little blonde shoved him forward, demonstrating incredible strength with no leverage. She floated four inches off the floor and still moved him easily.
She was dressed the same as always. She folded her arms in front of her, sliding hands inside opposite sleeves.
Barate Algarda spoke for the first time since my arrival. Resolutely, powerfully, loudly, he proclaimed, “Ah, holy shit! This is not possible!”
Kyoga Stornes had been just as quiet-while easing closer to his father, to lay unhappy hands on if Meyness showed any sign of pulling some sorcerer’s stunt. He agreed with Barate. “Oh, holy shit indeed! Nana! What have you done?”
Barate and Kyoga had called Constance “Nana” when they were little, though she was grandmother to neither. It came from some amusing toddler comment become family in-joke with sense and meaning only for those who had been there.
Barate demanded, “Exactly, Mother! What have you done?”
Constance herself showed us the fabled eyes the size of saucers.
The little girl squeezed in between Orchidia and me, as though by right. The Black Orchid yielded gracefully. The girl said, “Yes, Grandmother, you totally screwed the pooch. That spell caused a double, even a triple rebound, in time and place, both.”
Suddenly, I knew why she was familiar. Suddenly, I knew who she was. Suddenly, I was a huge, ready-to-melt lump of gelatin.
I was married to her.
Well, I had been about to marry her. Then something happened that split her into a corpse and a feisty little thing that could get me a year in a work camp for thinking about us being married. .
She slid her left hand into mine, tugged. “They can finish up here. We have to go. We don’t have much time.”
Orchidia agreed. “There isn’t much at all. Don’t waste it being you.”
Shadowslinger looked scared, compassionate, furious, self-pitying, self-loathing, and just plain crushed, all together and/or in lightning rotation. She said, “Go ahead, Garrett. I did screw up. We’ll talk later. We have this part under control.” A lot of eyes focused on Meyness B. Stornes. His life could get more difficult in a hundred interesting ways.
Shadowslinger made weird noises, twitched, shook oddly. I thought she might be about to stroke again-if ever she really had.
Even so, Barate was more concerned about Kevans, and about Kip because Kip meant so much to Kevans. Kyoga forgot his father. He beat me out of the room, off to get Dr. Ted. Hopefully, Ted wasn’t off somewhere watching fireworks and impossible to find.
Kevans was working on a refreshed case
of attitude but couldn’t quite go public while her grandmother was shaking and making ever stranger noises. She didn’t seem affected by the fact that her mother might now become her little sister.
Singe had no idea what was going on with Little Strafa but did get that this was no time for Garrett to mope around demanding answers to any trivial question that occurred to him. Something needed doing, and soon. I’d already mentioned All-Souls deadlines several times. She started shoving. Little Strafa pulled, demonstrating more of the power she had used to move Bashir. The Black Orchid got out front and ran interference.
Morley Dotes hadn’t been invited upstairs. He hadn’t gone away, either, contrary to his earlier determination. He had been amusing himself in the kitchen but now was waiting at the front door with the dogs. He and they were wide awake and seemed renewed. Little Strafa led us into Shadowslinger’s garden. “Each one take a dog.” She snatched up Number Two, shoved her at Singe, in whose arms the mutt wriggled just enough to get comfortable. Then she fell asleep.
Little Strafa told the rest of us, “Come on. Do it.”
Brownie made it easy for me.
Morley snagged a mutt, as did Orchidia, who shuddered at the contact but forged manfully on.
“All of you crowd in facing me. Push in tight. Hold your dog with your left arm. Put your right arm around the person next to you.”
Singe and Orchidia, in almost identical language, instructed me to shut up and do as I was told.
I did as I was told. I didn’t say anything, either.
Brownie licked my face, then shut her eyes. I slipped my right arm around Singe as low as I could. She did the same with Morley. He got Orchidia. Orchidia put her arm around me, as high as she could get.
“Wait! Wait up!” Tara Chayne charged out of the house as if she were a hundred years younger than she was. The cluster hug fell apart.
“What?” Orchidia demanded.
“I should go with you.”
Little Strafa nodded. “She’s right.” She shivered, cold despite that coat. She laid a hand over Morley’s heart, showed him a child’s forerunner of the smile that always conquered when she was a grown-up. “Please? Let Moonblight take your place? I know it’s a lot to ask but I promise I’ll take good care of him.”
Morley checked me, Singe, and even the dog he carried, now sound asleep. Even Brownie had only one eye open. He considered the three witchy women, calculating. “Garrett?”
“I can’t offer an informed opinion. I don’t know what’s going on. But I can say that I trust Strafa.” Still, I didn’t want my best friend to think I was pushing him out.
“We have a problem with time,” Orchidia reminded.
“Her skills. .,” Strafa began.
Morley presented his dog to Tara Chayne. “I understand skills.” His face said a good deal more. There would be unhappy folks on the Hill if anything untoward happened because he wasn’t there to prevent it, Enma Ai or no.
Orchidia said, “Your sacrifice is both appreciated and useful.”
I reminded him, “You were going to bail after the raid anyway.”
“Got my third wind.” Morley touched two fingers to his right eyebrow in salute.
I nodded. He might do so in a state of blind exhaustion, but he would turn up at the house on Macunado.
116
Little Strafa said, “Everyone crowd in again.” She rotated to face me, slightly to my right, cheek against my lower chest. She got hold of me good and Singe somewhat. I hoped she wouldn’t pull some Strafa stunt and get me branded as a pedophile.
She was a kid, though, despite some grown-up memories. Her mind didn’t run in those gutters.
She said, “Everybody shut their eyes.”
Naturally, I didn’t, so when my feet left the garden paving I watched the Algarda hovel sink away behind Moonblight. And saw Moonblight go deathly pale as she watched something behind me drop out of sight.
She was smart enough to shut her eyes; then she might have prayed. Her lips moved the whole time we were airborne.
It wasn’t a long journey, but it had its moment of drizzling brown terror. Little Strafa took us over a small plaza just in time for the opening salvo of a neighborhood fireworks show. We were not high up. Rockets cracked past. They exploded overhead. I squealed. Orchidia strained to keep her response inside. Moonblight muttered in some weird Other Race language and went right on keeping her eyes shut.
Explosions above betrayed us to the people below. Most decided we must be part of the entertainment. A few beetle-browed morons yelled for somebody to jump.
Idiots! Karenta’s richest resource is stupidity.
We settled onto Macunado. Two out of two witch women instantly declared, “We are being watched.” They pointed, not in the same direction.
“The house is,” I agreed. I waved to Preston Womble. He waved back, making no effort to be discreet. I didn’t see Elona Muriat. Maybe she’d gone to the riverfront for the fireworks.
A second party was less easy to identify. They might represent Belinda Contague or General Block. They were more professional than Womble, but barely so. They would rather be off watching fireworks, too.
Singe and Strafa paid no mind. Singe hustled to the door. She used her key. Little Strafa followed her inside. I was right behind with Brownie, still napping. Moonblight and Orchidia, with mutts, brought up the rear.
Penny emerged from Singe’s office. It was rare that anyone came into the house without being admitted by somebody already inside. She reddened immediately.
Singe barked, “You have been into my books again!”
“I was reading a story to Hagekagome. She likes stories. Where have you all been? We’re going to miss the fireworks.”
That was a diversion. Her real interest was Little Strafa.
Hagekagome, meanwhile, slipped past Penny, around Singe and Little Strafa, and glommed onto me. “Missed you! Missed you so much!” She hugged me hard with one arm while running her other hand over Brownie and sniffing. Brownie opened one eye lazily, gave Hagekagome’s face a big wet lick.
Little Strafa said, “My, my.” And to the sorceresses, “I see what happened. I think I get the mechanism. Grandmother overlooked natural law completely when she constructed her spell suite.”
Orchidia nodded. “Yes. It seems not to have occurred to her that if she regressed you, the regressed time and emotion would have to go elsewhere, into someone equally important.”
Believe it or not, I understood part of that, but the insight didn’t stick.
Strafa asked, possibly with a touch of concern or jealousy, “So, who is she, then? And if she is from twenty years ago, how come she isn’t as old as you?”
Ouch.
There was a new experience. I’d never seen Strafa jump into a big, steaming pile like that. That was more like something Kevans would do. Neither Tara Chayne nor Orchidia was pleased. The latter obviously considered reminding Strafa that she had kids the same age as Kevans.
Both sorceresses chose to make allowances.
There was enough grown-up Strafa in my girl to remind her that you don’t yank the beards of short-tempered older women, even unintentionally.
She didn’t show much more maturity with Hagekagome, though.
“Hey, you. That’s my man you’re climbing all over. Get off him. Stop rubbing yourself against him.”
She made it sound more intimate and sensual than it was.
Whatever had happened, it wasn’t simple and just physical. Hagekagome, honestly, was just trying to snuggle closer.
Tara Chayne, ever more practical than I expected, suggested, “Why don’t we think of a nice, private place where we can take the girls to watch the fireworks? And talk. It’s almost midnight.”
Almost time for the waterfront show. “Good idea. Strafa? Are you strong enough to make two more trips fast?”
Strafa eyed me like she wondered why I’d ask such a dumb question.
Inspiration had overwhelmed me.
“Back to the street, then. Everyone.” Dogs yawned, still loafing in people’s arms.
People moved without asking a bunch of questions. I appreciate that when it’s me wanting to get things done.
“We’re outside,” Moonblight said. “Now what?”
“Get into the place you were before, with your mutt. Orchidia, give yours to Hagekagome and put her in your place. Singe, same with Penny. We’ll fly. You lock the door. Strafa will come right back for you.”
Singe didn’t like the plan. Orchidia, though, understood. Singe chose to defer to her wisdom, though she couldn’t help saying, “Do not do anything stupid before I get there.”
“Hearing you five by five, Mom.”
Singe didn’t care where we were headed. She figured I could do something dumb and inconvenient anywhere.
Orchidia chivied everyone in tight around Strafa, who rotated to face me again, adding something extra as a message to Hagekagome, who never noticed. I was embarrassed about being the object of jealousy between children-even though, in a way, both were really my own age.
Singe was locking the door as we lifted off.
Neither Dean nor the Dead Man had made themselves evident at all.
I hoped no watcher got a wild hair and tried to break in. They might actually get away with something now.
Strafa whispered, “To the ridge in the cemetery?”
“You know my mind perfectly.”
“I am your wife. I will be your wife.” Stated with absolute conviction and an understood “No matter what!” “The view will be a little remote, but there won’t be any crowding. Not even the ghosts will get in the way of our conversation.”
My wife. There might be some social difficulties till she looked old enough for the job. Say, another three or four years. Plenty of girls get married, to get out of the house, by age fifteen. They wait five more years after that, even their overly protective fathers start calling them old maids.
Maybe by the time Little Strafa was ready for a real husband, she’d want someone a little more spry than the antique fart that I would be.
