With a grunt, I cinched my belt and looked at Mira, who stood ready and waiting, her hair in wild, damp curls. “He’ll act surprised, then dismissive, and then he might even say that he was on the way to do the job himself.”
“Have you met him already?” Mira asked, looking at me like I was psychic.
“No, but I know his kind. All the same. He’s a shithead bully with muscle, probably. How does he keep this place in line?” I asked, pointing to the orderly streets. “There’s got to be some kind of power behind his threat or he would lose his position the first time someone challenged him and he couldn’t back it up.”
“Oh, he has—muscle? Yes, he has that. None of his own, or at least not recently, but he has a system. The city lets him do as he wishes because his caravans produce, and they’re gradually rebuilding some kind of power grid based on what we bring in,” Mira said.
“We? You’re part of Wetterick’s team?” I teased her.
She glared at me, then leaned against my body with forgiveness. “The Scavengers. We fight, die, and give our blood for his coins, and the city buys it all. They think civilization can rise again, but I know the truth. We know the truth.”
“Which is what, exactly? You can’t have civilization without getting rid of people like Wetterick?”
“And Lady Silk, among others, but that’s only part of it,” she admitted. “Are we ready?” It was a loaded question. This morning was much more than collecting on a reward. It was a test of will and savvy.
“We’re ready.” I lifted Hardhead, slinging the heavy mass over my shoulder. Natif’s bag kept most of the stench in, but I was anxious to get rid of the thing. It was something to steal, and a point of contention for anyone who wanted to make a mark for themselves. I didn’t like being a walking bank, especially in strange turf with only one other person on my team.
“I’ll be nearby, sir,” Lasser said from the hallway as we opened our door. He was dressed impeccably, a long bright linen robe over boots and a large knife that was far from ornamental. His belt also held a whip; something I’d never seen used except by Indiana Jones, and even then, I’d thought it was bullshit. The simple fact he carried it made him look more like an officer from the Foreign Legion, and I gave him a smile of thanks.
“You don’t have to come with us, Lasser,” I offered as an out. I didn’t know what our greeting would be, and I didn’t want him being tainted by association with a wildcard like me.
His smile was knowing. “You still haven’t paid for your room and services. It’s only prudent that I make sure you receive your reward, so that the bill may be paid.” He coughed discreetly, smiling into his hand, and I realized I liked him even more after the careful dodge. He was an ally, and he had his reasons. I would accept it and move on.
“Make that two on my team,” I said, quietly, stepping down the wide hall to the stairs. In seconds, we were out in the sunlight, the air fresh with a hint of impending rain. “How far to Wetterick’s?”
“Follow the street and turn right. It’s near the center, just over there,” Mira said. Lasser walked behind us, nodding and speaking a word to various people. He knew everyone, and they liked him. Mira got her share of glances; some as if she was a feral animal, others openly admiring her. I enjoyed both reactions equally.
I stopped at the edge of the street, looking in disbelief at Wetterick’s place. “A fucking tent? He lives in a tent?”
“He thinks it makes him a man of the people, but there’s a stone cottage in the middle of all that...whatever it is he calls his compound,” Mira said.
It wasn’t just any tent. It was huge, held on a series of five poles that soared thirty feet in the air. A complex system of ties held it in place, and as we got closer, I could see the interior structure was more permanent. There was a frame made of thin metal, and the heavy material was painted with a series of simple designs that looked like they’d been lifted from a second-rate fantasy video game.
“Is that a real language?” I asked, pointing to the symbols. The colors were interesting, if you were a ten-year-old kid. I decided that Wetterick had shitty taste, regardless of his social stature. If he was wearing MC Hammer pants and pointed shoes, I might lose it, but I sort of expected it given his choice in housing.
“None that I know. Wetterick has a bit of flair for the, ah, dramatic,” Lasser said, lifting a black brow in judgment.
“I see.” And I did. Wetterick thought he was living in a fantasy, and his surroundings made it clear he had no interest in rebuilding the world if he’d even any idea as to what the world used to be. He was LARPING his way into being a warlord and preying on people like Bel and Mira to make his dreams come true.
That was about to end.
“What’s the procedure for seeing him?” I asked. We were still some distance away from the outer wall that surrounded his compound. It was better than the town’s defenses, I would admit that much, being six feet tall and made of limestone fitted tightly together. A thin coat of whitewash clung defiantly to the wall, which was free of Wetterick’s symbols. There were two gates and a central tower overlooking the tent, which was no less than thirty meters across and filled with people.
“Great. It’s like a bad stage production under there,” I said, bitching because that’s always been one of my skills as a Marine. I was relieved to see that despite being filled with cutting-edge nanobots, my ability to complain hadn’t faded over my years asleep in the tube.
Lasser sniffed with dignity. “I find everything about that place to be a bad production. Their choice of livery offends me. Their music offends me. Their ignorance of wine offends me to the point of requesting a duel.”
“Wine? Really?” I asked. Mira laughed at his anger, which seemed genuine.
“They take fine wines and mix them together, adding ice and fruit so that it—and I’m quoting the barbarous staff here—it tastes better.” Lasser curled his lip with the seasoned distaste of a French waiter. I liked him even more. It took a special kind of man to hold a grudge for someone abusing wine, and Lasser was such a man.
“I’m a whiskey man myself, but I appreciate your anger,” I told him. “Oh, and thank you for the wine last night. It was excellent.” It had been. When we returned to our room after dinner, a bottle of cold, light wine tasting like sunshine waited by the bed in a copper tub. It was a nice touch, and I’d forgotten to thank him in the general bustle of our morning. I fixed my error by thanking him for the wine, but his blank stare was troubling.
“I brought you no wine, nor did we arrange for it,” he said, face turning dark with suspicious anger.
“A suggestion? Ask Natif or Berec who did. They were in our room, and you seem like the kind of man who would want to know that kind of thing,” I said. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even surprised. My money was on one of the boys being a spy for extra coins, which was the exact sort of thing I would do if I worked as a post-apocalyptic bellhop.
“My deepest apologies. I’ll have an answer by the end of day. You may count on it,” Lasser said, and I felt a little bad for turning that bit of information over, but he wouldn’t kill the spy, of that I was certain. Lasser was smart. He’d know what to do to turn them back into his service.
“Seriously, not an issue. The wine was excellent, and we both woke up in perfect health. Might not have been the same if it had been a bottle of whiskey,” I told him.
“There’s that word again. Whiskey?” Lasser asked me, rolling the unfamiliar word around on his tongue. “I can infer it to be liquor, but what kind?”
I paused my walk to regard him curiously. Of all the words we’d been using, I found it odd that whiskey was the first one he didn’t grasp. I launched into a brief but thorough description of whiskey, only to watch his eyes brighten as he snapped his long fingers in a moment of recognition.
“Of course! Burbeen, as we call it. A fine drink, if hard to find. We’re not a stronghold for grains, as you might imagine,” he said. Glad to make the connection
between his word and mine.
“But you have grapes?” I asked, wondering where the wine came from. The Empty didn’t look like the kind of place where a vineyard might last an afternoon, let alone long enough to produce wine.
“No, but there are to the west, and the caravans bring wine in huge amounts. Easy to transport, and far cheaper than the more potent liquors. For things with a fiery kick, we turn to humble palm wine. You can use it as lamp fuel in a pinch, but it’s much more palatable to the people as a drink, cut with juice or water,” Lasser said.
“It’s evil,” Mira announced in the tone of someone who knew what a palm wine hangover felt like.
I chewed on that, standing there outside Wetterick’s gaudy tent while holding the head of a human-rhino hybrid cannibal. It was an unusual moment, to say the least, but I let it wash past me before squaring my shoulders and turning to yet another gate. I felt a distinct sense of déjà vu as we walked together, burly guards waiting to greet us in the signature green and gold of their employer. They were cleaner and better fed than the guards on the outer wall, a stupid move given how easily I’d breached their defenses.
We approached the gate in bright sun, standing on gravel that was clean and dry. Despite his shitty sense of color, Wetterick kept a clean shop. The gate was simple but effective—iron frame with heavy wooden slats, painted again with the odd symbols but free of moisture or rot. It was a good gate, and there were four men standing guard, along with one woman who looked like she ate kittens for breakfast.
She spat at my feet as we stepped past other people who were milling about, uncertain of whether they wanted to see the man himself. As it was, I did.
“Good morning to you, too. I’m here to collect on the bounty for Hardhead,” I said simply. I didn’t brandish the bag because it seemed pointless to do so until I knew what the general reaction would be.
The guard in charge was memorable. She was squat, freckled—not in a good way—and had a pinched face that was far too narrow for her enormous neck. Her brown hair was shaved on one side to reveal a tattoo of running feet, which seemed the least likely activity for someone built like a walking ham. She regarded me with a professional gaze from her cold black eyes, which told me spitting had been a minor test, just to see how short my fuse was.
I smiled into the morning light, wondering if every single asshole was going to be in my path that morning, but realizing I didn’t actually care. With a silent lunge, I punched her in the chest hard enough that she collapsed, then drove Hardhead’s bag down on her face before anyone could move. In a blur, I moved back to stand silent and still, Hardhead swinging in my right hand and a lock of Miss Toad’s hair in my left.
“I’d like to collect my reward now unless we’ve further business?” I asked in my most polite voice.
“Get off, you idiots,” said the leader, slapping their helping hands away as she climbed slowly to her feet. “Put your fucking blades away before you get hurt, and tell the boss we’re bringing him in.”
“Mister Bowman,” I said.
“What?” asked the woman, cutting her eyes at the guards, who still looked stricken by their lack of response. My ‘bots were firing on all cylinders, and I felt like my muscles were singing. I liked it.
“My title. It’s Mister Bowman. My actual name is Jack, or James to my friends but since we’re not friends and you’re not my mother, I prefer Mister Bowman.” Feeling grand, I waved at Mira. “This is Lady Mira, for good measure, and I believe you know Lasser, who can choose his own title as he needs no introduction.”
“Mistress Gabaril, I am, as always, at your service,” Lasser said, bowing low with an impressive gallantry.
“Fuck off, worm. I won’t forget this,” she growled.
“Neither will I, and I’m the one you should worry about.” I took a step forward, watching Gabaril and the guards move back like a school of fish sensing a predator. Good. I was a predator, and they were in my feeding zone.
I heard a distinct click and knew a weapon was on me, though I wasn’t sure what it was. “Crossbow?” I asked, watching as Gabaril nodded.
The guard farthest away held a stubby black crossbow with a thick metal bolt in it. It was trained on my heart in a solid grip, and he had the bearing of a veteran. I stopped moving forward but shook Hardhead’s bag lightly, shifting the contents around to release a bit of the growing stench inside. “Can we move on to business, or are you trying to deny my claim? It seems like an important detail right about now.”
“Your alleged bounty is not my decision, Jack,” Gabaril said, and now she was genuinely mad.
I spoke to Mira without letting my eyes leave Gabaril. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”
“I think he’s going to cheat you out of the bounty,” she said. Shaking her head, she looked like a pretty suburban mom who’s just found out her kid is smoking weed. Disappointment painted her features as she let out a heavy sigh. “Typical.”
“If I may?” Lasser interrupted.
I turned to him as if he’d just appeared, waving my free hand that he should continue with whatever sage thing he was about to say. “Of course, sir. You have something to add?”
“In fact I do. Perhaps we could actually see Wetterick before this unpleasant morning strays further from good manners?” Lasser asked. When Gabaril prepared to answer, he held up a hand with an apologetic tilt. “I should mention that Natif has a crossbow of his own trained not on your man, but on you, Mistress. Natif, if you will?” He called back in a pleasant voice, like hailing a friend.
Natif waved from across the street, all but invisible in a gray robe. “Hello, friends. Lovely clear air for a shot, innit?”
“I guess that means Berec is your spy,” I said. “No wonder you’re not worked up about it.”
“I’m a practical man, Mister Bowman. I like to know who I can count on,” Lasser said.
“Lower your weapon, Teague.” Gabaril didn’t look to see if he obeyed, but he did, with a reluctant collapse of his arms.
When the crossbow was pointed at the ground, Lasser spoke to Natif again, and this time there was a frost to his tone. “If he twitches, put the first one in her eye. Put the second one in her heart.”
“Got it, boss,” came Natif’s cheerful voice. He really was good help.
“I hope this puts to rest any thoughts of your men rushing us while getting Mister Bowman’s just reward?” Lasser asked. He wore a patronizing smile like he spoke to a stupid kid who’d just been caught shoplifting. The guy was an asset. I made yet another mental note to keep him on my side, no matter what.
“Tell the squad to stand down, and post a runner. I want any incoming patrols to wait outside the compound. I don’t want anyone getting...confused,” Gabaril said sourly.
“Confusion, of course. It leads to so many problems, but I’m glad we’ve reached this understanding,” I said. It was time for some mild diplomacy, because I’m a carrot and stick kind of guy. “Gabaril, what’s your title?”
She looked surprised, then suspicious, then just tired. “Captain.”
I nodded, then gestured to the gate. “Captain, after you?” She didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown, either, so the term of respect had done its job. I knew when to stop giving someone shit, and this was such a moment.
We filed into the tent, flanked by Gabaril and two men, both who replaced the original guards that met us at the gate. These men were smaller, more intelligent looking and to my absolute shock, wore pistols in well-made holsters. If there were guns, then my negotiating position had just dropped in the shitter, but I kept my face neutral as Gabaril parted the sea of humanity already clamoring to see Wetterick, depositing us less than thirty feet from the man himself.
“Gentlemen, a moment for me to discuss manners with my friend? She’s just in from the Empty,” I said, cutting my eyes toward Mira as if she was barely civilized.
They gave me a knowing smile, then the left guard spoke, his voice low and harsh. “Good idea. The
boss doesn’t care for ferals.”
“My thanks,” I said, turning to Mira and Lasser with a grateful look. I lowered my voice and began chopping my hand down as if issuing orders. “Lasser, can you signal Natif to find Berec? I know the little prick is out there, and I don’t want him taking a potshot at us to curry favor with his patron.”
He didn’t speak but looked over my shoulder into the crowd outside the main gate. In a flash of recognition, I saw him make contact and smile. “He’s already on the watch. You’re covered.”
“Perfect. Here’s the play, and it could happen fast, so pay attention. If it goes to shit, get out. Leave me and run, meet at the House and I’ll find my way there if I can. If not, run fast and far. I know Wetterick’s type. He’s not the forgiving kind.” I drew a breath and began to slow my heart, getting ready for the meeting. Losing my cool would serve no one, let alone the task of keeping my head attached to my shoulders. “If he tries to hustle us on the coins, we walk away. If he threatens us and we can leave, we fight another day. If he tries to take us out, I’ll kill as many as I can until I’m down. We clear?”
“Clear,” Mira said. Lasser nodded. We were set.
“Let’s go meet our mark,” I told them, turning to the guards with the kind of smile I reserved for female bartenders pouring my whiskey. “Gentlemen, we’re ready.”
“You better be,” one of them muttered, and the crowd parted before us to reveal Wetterick and his personal team. To my surprise, he didn’t have an advisor, just three hulking soldiers with expressions ranging from angry to cunning. Their hair was shaved, revealing heads with an array of white scars from previous fights. Two had noses that were flattened; one was missing half an ear, and all three had hands the size of skillets. They were his personal enforcers, and the two who stood, were towering over me like thunderclouds.
The third sat in a chair that groaned with his weight, counting coins on a table made from black wood that was polished like a mirror. A nervous scribe was marking amounts in a notebook, his pencil flying as he stacked and restacked silver and bronze coins that tinkled with the sound of extortion. What he did next stunned me into a second look, but I managed to keep the shock off my face by averting my gaze after an instant.
Future Reborn Page 8
