by Glen Cook
A long time had passed and nothing had happened. The Taken were not pleased. Neither was Elmo. He dragged me into his quarters. “Were the hell did Raven go, Croaker?”
“I don’t know,” I told him. As if he were the only one disturbed. I was scared and getting more so by the day. “I want to know. Soon.”
“Look, man. Goblin’s done everything but torture people trying to pick up his trail. He flat vanished. He got wind of us somehow.”
“How? Will you tell me how? We’ve been here half our lives, it seems like. And nobody else down there has noticed. Why should Raven be any different?”
“Because we were around looking for him. He must have spotted one of us.”
“If he did, I want to know that. You hike on down there and light a fire under Goblin’s ass. Hear?”
“Right. Whatever you say, boss.” Though he commanded the advance party, technically I outranked Elmo. But I was not about to press for prerogatives at the moment. There was too much tension in the air.
There was stress throughout Duretile, and I did not understand most of it. I remained on the periphery of the Taken’s study of the black castle. Just another messenger boy, a foot-slogger bringing in data from the city. I hadn’t the slightest notion what they had discovered by direct examination. Or even if they were studying the castle directly. They could be lying back, afraid they would alert the Dominator to their presence.
One of the men located me in Elmo’s quarters. “Whisper wants you, Croaker.”
I jumped a foot. Guilty conscience. “What for?” I had not seen her for weeks.
“You’ll have to go see. She didn’t say.” He sneered, hoping he would see an officer in the soup. He figured I was in trouble.
He figured that; so did I. I dawdled as much as I dared, but eventually had to present myself. Whisper glared at me as i entered. “You people haven’t found a damned thing down there. What are you doing? Dogging it? Taking a vacation? Well, say something.” “I....”
“Do you know the black castle stopped growing after our raid on the Crater group? No? Why not? You’re supposed to be finding out these things.” “None of the prisoners accounted for the....” “I know that. I know none of them knew who the main body supplier was. But that supplier must have known them. He packed up. There have been just two bodies delivered since. The latest just last night. Why didn’t you know that? Why have you got people in the Buskin? They seem incapable of learning anything.”
Oh, she was in a mood. I said, “Is the deadline close or something? The way I understood it, we wouldn’t be in trouble if only a few bodies were delivered.”
“True. As far as it goes. But we’ve reached a point where a handful might make all the difference.”
I bit my lower lip, tried to look properly chastised, and waited.
She told me: “The Lady is pressing. She’s very nervous. She wants something to happen up here.”
So. As always, the shit rolls downhill. The normal course would be for me to go out and tromp on somebody below me.
“Half the problem is, we don’t know what’s going on.
If you claim you know what the castle is, how it’s growing and so forth, how come you don’t go over and kick it down? Or turn it into grape preserves or something?’’
“It’s not that simple.”
It never is. I tend to overlook political ramifications. I am not politically minded.
“Maybe once the rest of your company gets here. The city will have to be controlled. The Duke and his incompetents couldn’t manage that.”
I stood there looking expectant. Sometimes that will con people into telling you more than they plan.
“The city will go up in flames if it’s not buttoned up tight when the truth comes out. Why do you think the Custodians are so determined to keep the Catacombs thing hushed? Several thousand citizens have relatives who went into that monstrosity. That’s a lot of people who’ll get very irate about the souls of loved ones being lost.”
“I see.” I did a little. It took a certain willing suspension of reason, though.
“We’re going at this from a different angle,” she told me. “I’m taking charge of your investigations. Report to me daily. I’ll decide what you’re going to do, and how.
Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Only too well. It was going to get that much more difficult to keep her and Raven apart.
“The first thing you’ll do is set a watch on the castle. And if that doesn’t shake something loose, I’ll send Feather down there. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Again, only too well.
I wondered if Whisper suspected we were working at cross-purposes.
“You can leave. I’ll expect you back tomorrow. With something to report.” “Yes, ma’am.”
I went straight back to Elmo, fuming. He should have faced her, not me. Just because I’d sort of taken over.
I was with Elmo barely long enough to tell him what had happened when a messenger came from Bullock. He wanted to see me right away.
Bullock was another problem. I’d become convinced he was smarter than he put on, and was almost as sure that he suspected we were up to more than we admitted.
I eased into his cubicle in the secret police headquarters. “What’s up?”
“I’ve made a little headway on the Catacombs raid. Result of pure stubborn footwork.”
“Well?” I felt pretty curt about then, and he raised an eyebrow. “Just had a face-to-face with my boss,” I told him, which was as near an apology as I cared to come. “What have you got?”
“A name.”
I waited. Like Elmo, Bullock liked to be coaxed. I was in no mood to play that game.
“I followed up your notion about rented wagons. Turned up the name Asa. A wood-gatherer named Asa was, probably, working through the hole I showed you. A man named Asa spent a number of old coins, but before the raid on the Catacombs. A man named Asa worked for Krage before he and his men disappeared. Everywhere I go, it’s Asa-this or Asa-that.”
“Anything to connect him with the black castle?”
“No. I don’t think he’s a principal in anything. But he must know something.”
I thought back. Bullock had mentioned this name once before, referring to a man who hung around the same place as Raven. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe I ought to find this Asa before anybody else did.
“I’m headed down to the Buskin,” I said. “Direct orders from her holiness. I’ll have Goblin round the guy up.”
Bullock scowled. There had been some ill will when he found out that we had put men into the Buskin without consulting him. “AH right. But don’t play any more fast shuffle with me, eh? Your people and mine aren’t after the same things, but that’s no reason to undermine each other, eh?”
“You’re right. We’re just used to doing things different. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“I’d appredate that.” He eyed me in a way that. said he did not trust me anymore. If ever he had. I left thinking the Company and I were into it deep. Trouble on every hand. Juggling with too many balls in the air. Only we were juggling knives with poisoned edges.
I hustled on down and looked up Goblin, told him about our escalating troubles. He was no happier than Elmo or I.
Chapter Twenty-Three: JUNIPER: INTERROGATION
Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not believe it, or did not care.
Then Bullock’s sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his nerves and guilt, went to the man’s table. “How may we serve you, Reverend Sir?”
“Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord.”
Shed lifted an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I’ll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give away meals.”
“Ain’t it the truth, sir. Ain’t
it the truth.”
When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed, “You seem to be doing well, landlord.”
Shed snorted. “We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things. That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp before it gets away.” He donned his sourest face.
The Inquisitor nodded. “Leave the bottle. Let the Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity.”
“I’ll ask no profit, Reverend Sir.”
“Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone else.”
Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left him stuck with several.
When Shed delivered the meal, the Inquisitor suggested,” Bring a mug and join me.”
Shed’s nerves twisted as tight as a bowstring. Something was wrong. They had caught on. “As you wish, Reverend Sir.” He dragged over and collected his own mug. It was dusty. He had not done much drinking lately, afraid his tongue would wag.
“Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You haven’t done anything. Have you? I don’t even know your name.”
“Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been in my family for three generations.’’
“Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling by the wayside nowadays.”
“As you say, Reverend Sir.”
“I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won’t you calm down?”
“How may I help you, Reverend Sir?”
“I’m looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a regular here.”
“So he was, sir,” Shed admitted. “I knew him well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring wood for the fire.”
The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth. He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of
The Custodians.
“Do you know where he acquired the wood?”
Shed pretended acute embarrassment. “He collected itin the Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It wasn’t against the law. But it seemed reprehensible anyway.” The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. “No failing on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn’t discourage gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too seedy.”
“Why are you looking for Asa, then?”
“I understand he worked for a man named Krage.”
“Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it didn’t last.”
“So I heard. It’s the timing of their falling-out that intrigues me.”
“Sir?”
“Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa, about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage urns.”
Shed tried to look properly horrified. “Krage and Asa did that?”
“Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa had any conscience.”
“Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he wasn’t doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he never did anything very well. But that doesn’t invalidate your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a lot.”
“What was the relationship between Asa and Raven?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Where is Raven now?”
“He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the harbor.’’
The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. “What became of Krage?”
“Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It’s one of the great mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he wasn’t. There were all kinds of rumors.”
“Could he have left Juniper, too?”
“Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn’t tell anybody. The people who worked for him don’t know anything, either.”
“Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?”
Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. “I don’t.... I don’t understand what you’re asking, sir.”
“Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect a sum of gold may have been involved.”
Shed gaped. He hadn’t seen any gold. The man was lying. Why? Laying traps?
“It was a major plundering operation. We’d very much like to ask Asa some questions.”
“I can imagine.” Shed bit his lip. He thought hard. “Sir, I can’t tell you what became of Krage. But I think Asa took ship for the south.” He went into a long song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the South. “I never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him.” “Do you recall what ship?”
“Sir?”
“What ship did he take?”
“I didn’t actually see him board a ship, sir. I just assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in trouble. I guess he’s in trouble now, eh?”
“Maybe. The evidence isn’t conclusive. But I’m morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn’t see Krage on the dock, did you?”
“No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to see the first ships off. It’s like a holiday.” Was the Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn’t somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black castle.
The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. “I was afraid you’d tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no choice.”
Shed’s heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run for it.
“I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock or I will have to go after those people. Guess who’ll get stuck?”
Relief swamped Shed. “Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the law down there doesn’t recognize the Brotherhood’s right....”
“Won’t be easy, will it? The barbarians just don’t understand us.” He poured some wine, stared into it for a long while. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Marron Shed. You’ve been very helpful.”
Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. “Anything else, Reverend Sir?”
“Wish me luck.”
“Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very evening.”
The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you.” He resumed staring into his mug.
He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up with Asa?
Chapter Twenty-Four: JUNIPER: SHADOW DANCING
“I think I was pretty slick,” I told Goblin.
“You should have seen that Shed,” Pawnbroker cackled. “A chicken sweating like a pig and lying like a dog. A one-man barnyard.”
“Was he really lying?” I mused. “He didn’t say anything that conflicted with what we know.”
“What did you learn?” Goblin asked.
&nbs
p; “I think he was lying,” Pawnbroker insisted. “Maybe by not telling everything he knew, but he was lying. He was into it somehow.”
“You keep hanging around the Lily, then. Keep an eye on him.”
“What did you learn?” Goblin demanded.
Elmo came in. “How’d it go?”
“Great,” I said. “I found out what happened to Raven.”
“What?” he and Goblin both demanded.
“He left town. By ship. The first day the harbor was open.”
“Darling, too?” Goblin asked. “You see her around? What do you think?” Pawnbroker mused, “Bet that Asa went with him. Old Shed said they both left the first day.”
“Could be. I was proud of myself, catching him with that. Looks to me, now, like this Shed is our only outside loose end. He’s the only one who knows what happened to them. No Shed, nobody to maybe tell Bullock or the Taken anything.”
Elmo frowned. The suggestion was more in keeping with his style than mine. He thought I’d put it forward seriously. “I don’t know. Sounds too simple. Anyway, we’re starting to get noticed down there, aren’t we?”
Goblin nodded. “We’re supposed to be sailors who missed our ship, but people are comparing notes, trying to figure us out. If Shed got killed, there might be enough fuss to get Bullock wondering. If he gets wondering, sooner or later the news would get back to the Taken. I figure we ought to save heroic measures for heroic circumstances.”
Pawnbroker agreed. “That Shed’s got something to hide. I know that in my guts. Croaker told him about the raid on the Catacombs. He hardly blinked. Anybody else would have whooped off and spread the news like the plague.” “Kingpin still watching him?” I asked. “Him and Sharkey and Tickle are taking turns. He ain’t going to be able to pool without we know about it.”
“Good. Keep it that way. But don’t mess with him. We just want to keep him away from Bullock and the Taken.” I faded away into my thoughts. “What?” Elmo finally asked.
“I had an idea while I was talking to Shed. Bullock is our main risk, right? And we know he’ll stick like a bulldog once he gets on a trail. And he’s on the trail of this Asa character. So why don’t we con him into going south after this Asa?”
