Faded Steel Heat gf-9

by Glen Cook

  "That we know about," I reminded. "Changers are almost mythical around here. We don't know anything about them. We see the giant meat-eating thunder lizards more often." It was a bad time for thunder lizards, though. "Worst case I know of, and that's probably a fairy tale, involved a family of changers that operated in the forest north of town during the last century. I didn't figure out what was going on here just because changers are so rare. I wouldn't have thought of them at all if weird stuff didn't happen to me all the time."

  I headed for the door. Weider frowned but understood when I leaned against the wall where I'd be out of sight when the door opened.

  My timing was impeccable. The pseudo-Kittyjo walked in barely a minute later, insufficiently suspicious of a summons from the Old Man. That surprised me.

  She didn't seem to sense the distress of the two we had collected already. Was the silver responsible?

  Gilbey stepped over to hold the door. When it swung shut there were two of us behind her. She didn't understand till she got a look at me.

  Ty broke the hard silence. "What's going on, Dad?"

  "This isn't your sister. It's something that murdered her and took her shape."

  "Dad?"

  "Kittyjo is dead, Ty. Believe it. Tom is dead. Lucas Vloclaw is dead. They were murdered. They were replaced by these monsters." He indicated the roasting shapechangers.

  I had my little crossbow ready. I let the changer have a look.

  "What did you things want?" Weider demanded.

  Ty didn't get it. "Jo, what is this crap?" He did see that there was something strange about her, though.

  She seemed stranger by the second.

  She was changing! She was maintaining the outward appearance of Kittyjo Weider but inside she was doing something that would, probably, improve her chance of escape. Or, if she was bloody-minded enough, she was becoming something fast and deadly.

  I said, "It's changing, people."

  The Kittyjo thing glared at me. Gilbey moved. The changer turned his way. I poked it. Felt like I'd slammed my fist into a leather bag full of rocks, too.

  The shapechanger didn't go down. It just turned on me. Evidence was accumulating: Shapeshifters were not overly endowed with intelligence.

  I ducked a blow like a lightning bolt. Gilbey applied a couple of kidney punches. Neither had much effect. He barked in pain. His knuckles leaked blood.

  Ty hollered something about leaving Jo alone.

  I plinked the thing with my crossbow, in the throat. My bolt penetrated barely an inch. The changer stopped to fiddle with it.

  Gilbey was nearer the weapons collection. He seized a ferocious antique mace, topped the changer a few times. I readied another quarrel. The shifter decided it didn't want to play anymore. It left. Without bothering to open the door.

  I loosed another bolt. It struck the small of the creature's back, right in its spine.

  The changer sprawled forward, fingertips dangling over the brink of the grand stair. I told Gilbey, "I used to be pretty good with one of these things."

  "So I see."

  The shifter couldn't get up. It tried pulling itself forward. That worked. It tumbled ass over appetite all the way to the ballroom floor.

  I galloped after it.

  It looked nothing like Kittyjo now. In fact, it had a distinct thunder-lizard look. Developing armor plates clashed with Kittyjo's dress. A nub of a tail wiggled under the red cloth.

  People shrieked. The orchestra stopped playing. A crowd collected. Lance joined me over the changer, shaking. I told him, "She was probably the first one replaced. She would have been the easiest."

  Ty joined us, having come down by clinging to the stair rail. He wanted to hurt somebody. He stared at the thing that had replaced his sister and maybe grew up a little. He put his anger aside, found the hidden Weider steel. "I apologize, Garrett. I was out of line."

  "That's all right. It's tough."

  "This is too big for us to squabble amongst ourselves."

  "I'll buy that."

  Ty nodded. He scanned the crowd. "That spine shot was all that stopped it."

  Worth remembering. "Still only looks temporary." This looked like one of those nightmares where the monster keeps getting up and coming.

  Ty said, "Lance, Giorgi went up to Mother's room. Alyx is up there, too. They'll need some support."

  I added, "Tinnie should be there, too." I wondered where Belinda was. And somebody needed to watch the changers in Weider's study.

  49

  Max joined us. "Am I presentable?" He was in control, but barely.

  "You look fine, Dad," Ty replied.

  "Then let's get our guests calmed down."

  I hefted the little crossbow. I had a pocket filled with bolts. Guests backed away.

  Presumably the shifter could become its nasty old self with a little effort.

  I dug out another coin. These things were going to break me.

  The shifter expelled my bolt but its legs still refused to work. Nothing human illuminated its face now. The creature was incapable of emotion in this form.

  Max stayed with me. "Just a minor problem with a would-be assassin. It's over. No need to concern yourselves. Go ahead. Enjoy."

  Marengo North English materialized among us, over the changer. Sword in hand, handsome, posing, he looked brave as hell. He registered no claim that could be challenged but his stance made it seem that he must have been the target of a bizarre murder plot.

  My opinion wasn't improving as I learned more about the man. I hadn't seen any proof that he believed what he preached—except that he did put cash where his mouth was. I had a problem picturing a famous skinflint gushing coin without believing.

  Maybe Tama Montezuma knew the truth. She appeared more stunning than ever when she rushed up to see if Uncle Marengo was all right, despite being rattled in the extreme. There seemed to be a certain ghastly hollowness to her.

  Doink! I let the changer have it between the shoulder blades. "Cut its shirt open," I told North English. "I need to get to that wound." The changer flopped, again eager to go somewhere far from guys with crossbows, knives, and silver.

  The guests backed away again but continued to watch. Even the musicians and servants wanted to gawk. There wasn't an ounce of compassion in the house.

  What does that say about the human folk of TunFaire?

  Valiant Marengo stepped forward heroically. With an elegant flick of his blade he slit the changer's stolen dress. The creature kept trying to wriggle away. Its limbs refused to cooperate.

  I yanked the bolt out and pushed my coin in before the wound closed. "This's the last one. I hope." Six was more shapeshifters in one place than I'd ever heard tell of. A few more wouldn't be a real surprise now.

  Weider stared at the changer. He shook his head. "I don't get it, Garrett." He was fighting the shakes.

  He had a better chance of understanding than I did. It was his house, his family, his brewery. What I understood was, he was my friend. "We'll find out."

  Ty agreed. "Whatever it takes, Garrett." He was shaking, too. "No prisoners. No quarter." He refused to sit down.

  "I'll need help dragging these things out of here." On cue, Relway's thugs materialized. They must have been listening. They slipped through the crowd like they were greased. "Where were you guys when I needed some backup?" I grumbled. "This needs taking away. I have two more upstairs. I'll show you where."

  Weider addressed his guests again. "Please, people. Celebrate. Be joyful." He couldn't fake any joy himself. His despair shone through.

  My admiration grew. Max was like those old-time aristocrats who had built the empire. He soldiered on with what had to be done despite any personal pain. He would not yet yield before his duties were satisfied.

  I led Relway's men to the study.

  One prisoner had slipped his bonds. We got there just in time. It cost me another groat to get it under control again. I was grumbling like Marengo before we finished.

  Ri
tter said, "We'll take them out the back way. You'll hear from the chief."

  "Remind him. He promised."

  Belinda was waiting when I went back downstairs. She asked, "Are we ready to go now?"

  I watched North English entertain a gaggle of hangers-on, flourishing the borrowed sword. He seemed particularly animated. I must have missed the most exciting part of the adventure.

  A frown darkened his face when he saw me watching—but he was too pleased with himself to worry.

  Miss Montezuma offered me a speculative, enigmatic, almost frightened glance. She looked like a woman who had found a snake in the breadbox. Though I doubted she would know what a breadbox was.

  Again Belinda asked, "Can we go now?"

  "I can't. Not while there are guests still here." And then there was Tinnie.

  Belinda scowled. "There was a time, not that long ago, when you would've dropped everything... " It wasn't true. We both knew it.

  "Go if you need to, Belinda. I'll get in touch. If you'll let me."

  She nodded unhappily.

  Belinda Contague was powerful and deadly—and a sad little girl. Not to mention dangerously willful.

  Sometimes I'd like to choke Chodo for whatever he did to her.

  "I'll go, then." She glanced at Tinnie. "Don't forget me." Damn! She wouldn't get into a killer Contague mood, would she?

  Chodo got rid of Belinda's mother because he couldn't stand competition.

  "Belinda... "

  She stalked away. She muttered something I didn't hear as she passed Tinnie and Alyx. She paused to say something to Marengo North English. He seemed startled, pleased, frightened all at the same time. He looked at me speculatively. Belinda swept up the stairs to the outside door and Gerris Genord. She and the majordomo were gone before I got my thoughts organized. Events had Genord looking bleaker than they did Max or Gilbey.

  50

  Nothing else happened. The do was not the ball of the season. Too much crude excitement for people of refinement. Our sort don't let these things happen. The bigger-name guests shortened their visits. They began leaving soon after Belinda. Those who stayed on were almost exclusively rightsists nabobs and men who wanted a private word with Max Weider. I'm sure Max wasn't much help.

  Tinnie didn't stray far the rest of the evening. Alyx tagged along gamely, never grasping the truism that there is no outstubborning a redhead. I should have told her. I have some experience in the field.

  Even diehard friends of the Weider and Nicholas clans packed it up before the orchestra finished playing. Ty was unhappy. Nicks was outright depressed. I caught the glimmer of a tear more than one time.

  "This is sad," Tinnie mused. We were surveying the grand hall from the vantage of the front entrance. Gerris Genord nodded as though she had spoken to him. The man looked like he was fighting an ulcer. "I feel for Nicks, Garrett. If you make a huge sacrifice just to make your family happy, it shouldn't turn to shit around you the way this has."

  "Woman! Such language for such a delicate—"

  "Stick it in your ear, Garrett. I mean it. She didn't get any joy out of tonight. I don't think that would be too much to ask in exchange for the rest of her life."

  "There's got to be a curse on Max Weider. On the whole damned family. It rubbed off as soon as Nicks decided to join up." I was beginning to wonder if such a curse could actually be managed. It seemed unreasonable that a man's only luck ever had to be bad.

  Without really seeing him I watched Gresser bustle around frantically, as though his depleted crew had work to catch up.

  Tinnie said good-bye to some straggler she knew, not bothering to introduce me. I asked, "You going to stash me in the flour pantry and only take me out when you want to play?"

  "There's an idea." She gave me an arch look. "If I could keep the Alyxes of the world out of there. Are you going to stay?"

  That was my secret plan. "Coy doesn't become you."

  "Me? Coy? Since when?"

  "You're trying to fake it. I don't think Dean would ground me if I didn't come home tonight. Especially if I make up a story that has your name in it somewhere." Tinnie remains one of Dean's favorite people.

  One of mine, too.

  "What I love about you is your wild enthusiasm when you decide to do—"

  "Excuse me, sir." Genord was back from escorting the straggler to his coach. He looked grave. "There's someone to see you."

  Again? "Not a gentleman?"

  "Definitely not a gentleman."

  Tinnie hissed angrily. "I knew something would happen."

  I went out. It was Relway. Again.

  Of course. Who else knew where to find me? Certainly not my least favorite pigeon. There'd been no sign of the little vulture since he got himself evicted.

  Maybe the vampire bats got him. Or maybe he was just lying up somewhere, waiting for the light. He wasn't like the parrots in the islands who stayed up all night, mimicking the cries of the frightened or wounded.

  Relway again. Definitely not a gentleman. Gerris Genord would have messed his smallclothes had he known who this runt was.

  Relway looked beat. "It wearing you down?" I asked.

  "Not yet."

  "What's up?"

  "I need you to look at something again."

  "Not something happy, I assume."

  "No, nothing. It's not a happy night."

  51

  It wasn't happy at all.

  It wasn't far from where he'd overtaken the murder wagon.

  This time it was Belinda's ugly black coach. Empty. One horse lay dead in the traces. A crossbow had caught it in the throat. The other beast was psychotic.

  "Poisoned bolt," Relway explained.

  One coach door dangled off a broken hinge. A man I didn't recognize sat in the doorway. He held his right arm and rocked slowly. He was in pain.

  Two corpses lay in the street. I did know them. Again, spectators were noteworthy for their absence.

  "This is Peckwood," Relway told me, indicating the guy with the broken arm. "He saw it happen."

  Peckwood didn't look like he'd been content to watch.

  Relway told him. "Tell it again for my friend."

  Friend? Oh-oh. Keep an eye on that hand patting your back, Garrett. Watch for a glint of steel.

  Peckwood spoke stiffly. "The coach came from back that way, not in no hurry. Then I see two guys come from up yonder, running hard." Up yonder meant northward, the direction Belinda should've headed if she was going home. "I figure they meant to do this someplace else, only whoever was in the coach crossed them up."

  I'm sure Relway knew who was in the rig even if his man didn't.

  Why would Belinda head west instead of north? Curious.

  Peckwood continued, "They didn't look like they was up to no good. I tracked them. One guy tried to plink the driver. He missed. He was puffing too hard to shoot straight. The driver started whipping his team. The villain didn't have no choice but to shoot a horse or let the coach get away. I figure originally they planned to croak the driver and grab the whole rig."

  A sensible strategy. And the whole rig would've included the beautiful Miss Contague, a lady with several deadly enemies.

  One of the dead men was Two Toes Harker. He'd been cut hastily and deeply and repeatedly. His knife lay not far away. He'd had a chance to use it, too. It was bloody.

  Peckwood got his wind back. "Soon as the coach stopped, the driver jumped down and that other guy jumped out and the blood started flying. Everybody was surprised to see each other. And the bad guys wasn't expecting a real fight."

  "Know them?" Relway asked, meaning the corpses.

  I indicated the smaller one. "Cleland Justin Carlyle. Usually called CeeJay. Chodo's current number one cutter of throats and stabber of backs." Carlyle had done some cutting tonight. A nasty blood trail led away from him. "Two men did this?" Carlyle was a pro, hard to take.

  Peckwood nodded.

  "And they took Miss Contague?"

  "A woman. I don'
t know who she was."

  "Tell him who they were," Relway said. "I know. You don't know. But I'll bet Garrett can guess."

  "Crask and Sadler," I said.

  "The very ones. And even all sliced up they worked Peckwood over when he tried to stop them from taking the girl."

  "I got in my licks," Peckwood insisted, gritting his teeth. "They'll carry some extra scars."

  "Belinda left the Weider place a while ago. Why was she hanging around?" And where did Carlyle come from? Was he shadowing us before? I hadn't noticed.

  Belinda would know.

  Crask and Sadler had Belinda.

  I was tired. I didn't want to face those two even if CeeJay, Two Toes, and Peckwood had torn a leg off each one. They'd still bite. With poison fangs. "Got any idea where they went?"

  "No," Relway said. "My people have orders not to leave a crime site if they're alone. Peckwood carried out his orders."

  "Shit."

  "I should encourage more innovation?"

  "What good would it do if he'd followed them? We still wouldn't know anything happened. And he'd probably get killed for his trouble."

  "Glad you see that, Garrett. Most people would argue."

  "I want to argue. I just can't. I'm in over my head here. I don't know anybody inside the Outfit well enough to approach. Maybe none of them would help. Well. I could go to her father's place but by the time I went out there and got back it would be tomorrow night."

  "I'll bet they were in too bad a shape to worry about covering their trail."

  There was plenty of blood in the street. But nobody is filled with enough to leave a trail all the way to the sort of neighborhood where Crask and Sadler would hide.

  "I don't like ratmen."

  "Did I ask you to like them?" Relway smirked. "You need a good tracker, Garrett. When you need a good tracker you have to deal with ratmen."

  Some races are just naturally better at some things. Ogres, trolls, humans, elves, dwarves, none of us are much good at tracking in the city. Ratmen with the talent can sniff out a trail through the worst alleys better than any hound.