Old Tin Sorrows gf-4

by Glen Cook

  There was an awful smell in the air. I knew it from that island, too.

  What the hell?

  There was all kinds of racket up there now. Men yelled. Peters shouted, "Get one of those spears and shove it back down."

  Dellwood, with a squeak higher than the screaming, asked, "What the hell is it?"

  I moved upward carefully. I saw men against the head of the stairs, a couple with spears jabbing at something heaving on the stairs. There wasn't enough light to show it clearly.

  I had a suspicion.

  Draug.

  I got a lamp.

  I didn't want to see what I saw. That thing on the stair was something nobody ever wants to see, and whoever made it least of all.

  It was a corpse. One that had been immersed in a swamp. What folklore called a draug, a murdered man who could not rest in death while his killer went unpunished. There are a million stories about draugs' vengeance but I'd never expected to be a player in such a tale. They're apochryphal, not concrete. Nobody ever really saw one.

  Funny how the mind works. The thoughts you'd expect didn't come to me. All I could think was: why me? This shot hell out of my simple case.

  Peters yelled, "What do we do, Garrett?"

  Besides puke? "I don't know." You can't kill a draug. It's dead already. It would just keep coming till it wore them out. "Try to cut it up."

  Dellwood did upchuck. Chain shoved him aside, flailed away with the ax part of a halberd. A couple of fingers came wriggling down where I stood. They didn't lose their animation.

  "Hold it there. I'll come around the long way." I backed down to the balcony.

  As I retreated to the stair to the first floor, I spied the woman in white watching from the top balcony east, from a spot where she wouldn't be seen by the bunch above me. She looked more interested and animated than usual. Like she was enjoying herself. I tried to sneak up on her but she wasn't there when I got there.

  I wasn't surprised.

  I crossed through the loft, went down. The guys were hard at work, poking and hacking and stumbling over each other. Peters said, "This is getting old, Garrett."

  "I'll buy that. Who's it after?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "Who did the screaming?"

  "Jennifer. She ran into it down there somewhere. It followed her up here."

  "Where is she now?"

  "In her suite."

  "Hang in there. You're doing a great job." I started down the hall. Then came back. Kaid and Chain cursed me. I asked, "Who was it when it was alive?"

  Peters bellowed, "How the hell should I know?" He needed to work on his vocabulary. He was in a rut.

  "Catch you in a minute." I headed for Jennifer's suite, which was identical to her father's, apparently, one floor below. I tried the door at the end of the hall. Locked and barred. I pounded. "Jennifer. It's Garrett."

  I heard vague movement sounds. They stopped. She didn't open up.

  I wondered if I'd have the nerve, considering all the tricks the stories say draugs and haunts try.

  I tried again. She wasn't receiving callers. I rejoined the boys. They were hanging in there. Chunks of corrupt, stinking flesh were everywhere. And the draug kept coming. Stubborn cuss. I found a spot from which I could kibbitz. "Figure out who it was yet, Peters?"

  "Yeah. Spencer Quick. Disappeared two months ago. The clothes. Nobody dressed like Quick. Lots of black leather. Thought it made the women swoon. You bastard. You just going to stand there?"

  I rounded up a five-foot broadsword, the kind they'd used in knighthood days to bash each other into scrap metal. I tested its edge. Not bad, considering. I took up position out of the way, behind where the thing would emerge onto the balcony. "Let it come."

  "You're crazy," Kaid told me.

  Maybe. "Go ahead. Back off."

  "Do it," Peters said, trusting me way too much.

  They skipped away.

  The dead man came in a cloud of stench, dragging what was left of him, lurching into the wall. "What're you waiting for?" Wayne shrieked at me.

  I was waiting for the draug to jump its murderer, that's what. But it didn't.

  Of course.

  They all panicked, grabbed axes and swords, and started swinging. Six of them in a crowd like that, it was a miracle they didn't kill each other.

  I stood back and watched to see if anybody took advantage of the confusion to eliminate another heir.

  Now that they had room, they carved the draug into little frisky pieces. Didn't take them long, either. They were motivated. Wayne, Tyler, and Dellwood kept hacking away long after that was necessary.

  They backed off finally, panting. Everybody looked at me like they thought I ought to be next. I got the impression they weren't satisfied with my level of participation.

  "Well, then. That takes care of that. Be smart to collect up the pieces and burn them. Peters, you want to fill me in on this Quick? Who was he and how did he happen to go away without anybody thinking that was strange?"

  Chain exploded. Before he could get out a coherent sentence, I said, "Chain, I want you to come with me and Peters and Tyler. We're going to backtrack that thing."

  "Say what?" Chain gulped air. "Backtrack it?"

  "Yes. I want to see where it came from. Might tell us something useful."

  "Shit," he said, and started shaking. "I want to tell you, I'm scared. I don't mind admitting it. All my years in the Cantard I wasn't scared like I am now."

  "You never ran into anything like this. Not to worry. It's done."

  Peters said, "We have some other men missing, Garrett. Suppose more of those things turn up?"

  "Doesn't seem likely. Draugs don't run in packs. Usually." I recalled a couple of stories. There was the Wild Hunt, a whole band of dead riders who hunted the living. "You saw how slow it was. Stay alert. You can outmaneuver them. The thing to remember is, don't get excited. We might have wrapped this mess up if we'd let the draug go after whoever killed it."

  "Shit!" Chain swore. "It didn't care. It just wanted to get somebody. Anybody."

  "Maybe. So let's hit the trail." I tried to sound perky. "Another glorious night in the Corps." I didn't feel perky, not even a little. I was scared stiff. "Arm up if that makes you feel better. And get lanterns."

  Peters grumbled, "I hope you know what you're doing, Garrett."

  I didn't have the faintest. I was just rattling around, hoping something would shake loose.

  19

  "Tyler, move out to the left about ten yards. Chain, you go to the right. I don't see much of a trail. Keep an eye out." I disposed myself and Peters between them so we spanned thirty yards. We started from the base of the front steps. "Let's go."

  Peters said, "It was walking when it came. Wouldn't leave much of a trail."

  "Probably not. You going to tell me who Quick was before we carved him up?"

  "We?" Chain bellowed. "Will you listen to that shit?"

  "Calm down," Peters told him. "I know what he was doing. He was right. You should have told us, Garrett."

  "And warn the villain?"

  "He's pretty well warned now."

  "Safe, too. Oh. Add a name to the victim list. Somebody did it to Snake."

  Peters stopped, held his lantern overhead, glared at me. "You aren't kidding. Snake? Why the hell Snake?"

  I tried to recall who'd been sitting where when I'd let Snake out that door. Hell. Anybody with good ears could have heard. He'd used a stage whisper. Maybe he'd wanted the killer to know. Maybe he'd had something planned and it had turned in his hand. I wouldn't let a known killer get close enough to put a noose around my neck.

  "Here," Chain said. We moved over. A strip of rotten leather hung on a bush. We redeployed.

  I said, "You going to tell me about Quick?"

  "I can't," Peters said. "I didn't know him. He was almost as spooky as Snake. Stayed to himself, mostly. You had to use a pry bar to get three words out of him. He did fancy himself a lover. You want to fi
nd out about him, talk to the gals at the Black Shark. All I can tell you is he was somebody the General knew and thought he owed. Like all of us."

  I'd passed the Black Shark on the way to the Stantnor place. It was an evil-looking dive. I'd been considering taste-testing the house brew. Now I had business reasons to visit.

  "Chain. You know anything about him?"

  "Not me. Hell, sour as he was, I wasn't surprised when he walked. Him and the old man feuded all the time. He never gave a shit about the money, far as I know. He just didn't have nowhere else to go."

  "Tyler?"

  "I didn't know him, except he played a big role at the Black Shark. Guy was a werewolf, the way he changed personality when a woman was in sight. I figured he found somewhere he wanted to be more than he wanted to stay here."

  Great. The live ones were weird and the dead ones weirder.

  We were spread out just enough. We kept finding another trace just before we lost the trail. We adjusted and kept on. It was slow going.

  "Who do you think is doing it, Garrett?" Peters asked.

  "I don't have a clue."

  Chain said, "He'll pass the word when there's only one of us left."

  "That would work," I admitted.

  Tyler kicked in, "I'd have put money on Snake. He was kill-crazy in the islands. He'd go hunting alone if he went too long without action."

  I'd known a few like that, guys who got hooked on the killing. They hadn't made it through. Death has a way of devouring its acolytes.

  "Here," Peters said. He'd found a place in tall grass where the draug had stopped. The trail was easy now. The grass was trampled down.

  The trail pointed toward the swamp Peters had mentioned.

  I asked, "You ever heard of Kef sidhe?"

  "Kef she? What?"

  "Sidhe. As in the race sidhe. Kef sidhe are professional killers. Religious assassins."

  "No. Hell. The nearest sidhe are a couple thousand miles from here. I've never seen one."

  Neither had I. "They're something like elves."

  "What about them?"

  "Snake was strangled with a Kef sidhe strangler's cord. Not exactly a common item in these parts."

  Peters just looked baffled, near as I could tell by lantern light. Damn, he was ugly.

  "How about a Venageti colonel's dress dagger? Were there any souvenirs around?"

  "Black-handled thing with a silver medallion? Long blade?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I ask why?"

  "You can. I won't tell you till I know more about the knife."

  "Snake had one he took off a Venageti colonel that he snuffed during one of his private excursions," Chain said.

  "Damn!"

  "What's the matter?"

  "Somebody stuck it in him when the strangler's cord didn't work fast enough." Wouldn't you know it? Stuck with his own sticker. Hell, next thing I knew I'd find out he committed suicide.

  Our villain was probably more lucky than clever, full of tricks that were working out by accident.

  Chain said, "Holy shit," in a soft voice. "We got trouble."

  "What?" Peters demanded.

  "Look at this."

  We joined him. He held his lantern as high as he could.

  Now there were two trails through the grass, one a yard to the side of the other. Peters and I exchanged glances, then looked at Chain. "Tyler! Get over here."

  Tyler hadn't come. His lantern hung about two feet off the ground as he knelt to study something. "Wait a second."

  I asked, "What have you got?"

  "Looks like... "

  Dark movement behind him. "Look out!"

  The draug grabbed Tyler by the throat and hoisted him into the air. His neck snapped. He made a sound like a rabbit's scream; his lantern fell and broke. Fire splashed the draug's feet. It lifted Tyler overhead, heaved him into the darkness, turned on the rest of us.

  "Spread out," I said.

  "You damn well better do more than watch this time," Chain told me.

  The fire blazed till the lantern's fuel was gone. The grass didn't catch. Neither did the draug. Both were too wet.

  "We'll cut it up," I said. "Like the other one."

  Chain said, "Let's don't talk, let's do."

  I didn't want to. But this draug wasn't particular about whom it stalked. It hated life. If it had been after Tyler specifically, it would have fallen down, done, revenge complete. But it wanted the rest of us, too.

  It didn't have much chance against three of us. We were faster and armed. But it kept coming. And coming. And coming. It's hard to cut a body up when it's chasing you.

  The horror and fear subsided after a few minutes. I got my head working. "Either one of you know who this was?"

  "Crumpet," Chain said. He concentrated like a clockmaker, making every move and stroke count.

  "Crumpet? What kind of name is that?"

  "Nickname," Peters said. "Real name was Simon Riverway. He didn't like it. Crumpet was all right. The ladies hung it on him in Full Harbor. Said he was a sweet bun."

  Weird. I unleashed a roundhouse cut at the draug's neck. It got a hand in the way. My stroke sheered halfway through its wrist, one bone's worth. The thing kept turning toward me while I was off balance, grabbing with its other hand.

  It grabbed hold of my sleeve. I thought I was a goner. Chain came in with a two-handed, overhead stroke, all his weight behind it. It hit the thing's shoulder hard enough to shake its hold. "I owe you one, Chain." I danced back a few yards, decided I'd follow Chain's example, and set my lantern down.

  The draug kept after me—which was fine with Peters and Chain. Peters jumped in behind and took a wild cut at its right Achilles tendon, hamstrung it on his backstroke.

  And it kept coming, though not as fast as it had.

  It seemed to take forever, but we wore it down. It fell and couldn't get up. We carved it up good to make sure, spending a lot of fear energy. Once we were finished, I recovered my lantern, said, "I think we'd better hole up till dawn. If there were two of them there might be more. We can explore later."

  "You said they don't run in packs," Peters said.

  "Maybe I was wrong. I don't want to find out the hard way. Let's get out of here."

  "First smart thing I've heard you say," Chain said. He examined Tyler. "Dead as a wedge. You think he's the one that killed them?"

  "I don't know. I wouldn't bet on it. That one didn't care who it killed. It just wanted to kill somebody."

  "Like the old joke about the hungry buzzard? Let's go. Before Tyler gets up and comes after us, too. I couldn't take that."

  I didn't argue. Draugs are supposed to be dead a few months before they get up, but I wasn't ready to field test the folklore.

  20

  As soon as we reached the house I went to check on Dellwood, Kaid, and Wayne. They were out back. They'd gotten a roaring bonfire going and were feeding it pieces of the first draug. I told them, "Throw it all in and get inside."

  "Sir?" Dellwood asked. He had his color back.

  "There may be more of them out. We ran into one who used to be called Crumpet. It killed Tyler. Let's not find out what else is waiting in the dark."

  They didn't fool around. They didn't ask questions. They pitched the draug in the fire and headed for the house. I glanced around as I followed, wondering what had become of Morley.

  The survivors gathered at the fountain. They were chattering about Snake and Tyler when I joined them. Wayne and Kaid held the opinion that the second draug had gotten the right man.

  I told them, "I'm not so sure. It just wanted to kill. It wasn't satisfied with Tyler. Dellwood, check the doors. Peters, are there other ways to get in?"

  "Several."

  "Take Chain and Kaid and check them out. We stay in threes till the sun comes up."

  "How come?" Chain asked.

  "I think the killer is working alone. If we're stuck with him, we'll outnumber him two to one."

  "Oh."

  Peters sa
id, "Ask these guys about that sidhe thing."

  Right. "Dellwood. Wayne. Kaid. You know anything about Kef sidhe? Especially a Kef sidhe strangler's cord?"

  They frowned. Dellwood, puffing from his hasty trip to the doors, asked, "What's that?"

  I described the thing I'd found around Snake's neck.

  "The General had something like that in his study."

  Peters brightened. "Yes! I remember it. It was with a whole bunch of junk, whips and stuff, in the corner by the fireplace."

  I recalled the whips. I hadn't paid much attention. "Dellwood, next time you're up there, see if it's gone. Ask the General where it came from. And where it went if it's not there."

  Dellwood nodded. I hated to turn loose but I couldn't keep him on my suspect list. He just didn't seem capable. If I discounted Peters, who'd have to be crazy to hire me if he was guilty, I didn't have many suspects left.

  The others were thinking the same way. Chain, Kaid, and Wayne started giving each other plenty of room.

  Peters started to go.

  "Wait," I said. "There's one question I should've asked before. I've been too busy with murder to worry about theft. Does anybody have a drug habit? Or gamble? Or keep a woman on the outside?" All of those might explain the thievery.

  Everybody shook their heads.

  "Not even Hawkes or Snake or Tyler?" Three in one day. The old man wasn't going to be happy about the job I was doing, though he hadn't exactly hired me to keep people alive.

  "No," Peters said. "You don't stay alive in the Cantard if you're the slave of your vices."

  True. Though vice had been rampant in places like Full Harbor, where we'd taken our rare leaves and liberties. A hellhole for a kid, Full Harbor. But you learned what life was like there. You had no illusions when you left.

  Karenta hadn't yet evacuated Full Harbor, though Glory Mooncalled said they had to go. His deadline had passed. Something would happen down there soon. A really big explosion. And Glory Mooncalled wouldn't have his usual advantages. You can't outrun, out-maneuver, or even sneak up on a fortified city waiting for you. I doubted he had friends inside the walls. His enemies there would include Karenta's top sorcerers, against whom he had no defense.

  I didn't think he could take Full Harbor. But he had to try. He'd shot off his mouth one time too many. He was committed.