Faded Steel Heat gf-9

by Glen Cook

  The cemetery is a bivouac again, filled with shanties and crude tents slapped together by refugees. This isn't popular with the neighbors, who have to suffer more than their share of victimizations. The Call is popular around the plain.

  Wary tension filled the cemetery air. There was very little light. There's no free fuel to be had anymore. I was uneasy because I hadn't thought to bring a lantern. The moon wasn't much help—though it gave Singe all the light she needed.

  Squatter villages appear wherever there's open ground. They're unclean. They stink. It's only a matter of time till some plague gets started. It can't be long before the street conflicts engulf the camps.

  "Hold up," I told Pular Singe. I gestured, too. She stopped, waited, watched me with a disquieting intelligence. I suspected her hearing problem was less severe than Reliance thought, more a convenience than a handicap. She got my deaf-and-dumb sign language right away, too, though I was rusty. It was a shame Singe had trouble with the common speech. I got the impression she had a real sense of humor.

  She had to be some kind of mutant.

  "Morley, wouldn't this pest-hole camp be perfect to disappear in?"

  People were moving around us, despite the hour, looking for nothing they could have articulated if asked. Movement itself was the destination.

  The squatter population was a volatile mix including every type of refugee. I saw people so exotic they had to be weird to themselves.

  "Absolutely," Morley said. "You'd have to be a woolly mammoth to get noticed around here."

  "Is the tracking getting harder?" I asked Singe.

  She shook her head, a human thing, not natural for ratpeople. Pular Singe tried hard to emulate human ways.

  Fenibro told me, "It is difficult but she can single it out."

  "She's amazing."

  "She is. There is blood in it still."

  No blood had been visible for miles.

  I observed, "She sure says a lot with a headshake."

  Morley murmured, "The boyfriend likes to show off his talent, too."

  "Which is?"

  "Human speech."

  "Oh. Think we're being led?"

  "You asking me if I think Crask and Sadler grabbed Belinda hoping that you, personally, would try to rescue her?"

  "It's possible, isn't it? They might even have counted on you coming with me."

  "I might calculate a scheme like that, Garrett. Not those two. They aren't complicated thinkers. They saw a chance to grab Belinda. They grabbed her. They probably expected you to be with her. Things didn't go the way they anticipated."

  Yeah? How did they know where to find Belinda? How did they know who she was supposed to be with? "You think they expect to be trailed here?" Morley wasn't giving Crask and Sadler enough credit. They weren't just mountains of muscle. They had brains. That's what made them scary.

  "Once they have time to think. They left a heavy trail. But they shouldn't expect trouble this soon."

  I glanced around. As a group we presented an unusual look but out there the unusual was the norm—and inquisitive noses tended to get broken. "Figure Relway had us followed?"

  "Is the moon made of green cheese?"

  "That's what I thought." The tail wasn't obvious, though. "Go ahead, Singe. You're doing wonderfully. But please be careful."

  Fenibro looked at me like I wanted to teach granny to suck eggs. But Pular Singe practically purred. Whereupon Fenibro suffered a case of the sullens.

  55

  The change in our surroundings was miniscule but real. Surprisingly, I sensed it before Morley or Singe. I didn't need to prompt Dotes, though. Still, I gestured to point out the fact that the refugee hovels shrank back from one particular mausoleum.

  It was an antique from imperial times, a family thing that had been used for centuries. It would be as big as a house inside with several levels below ground. The family must have fallen on hard times. All families do eventually. The mausoleum needed restoration though it remained sound enough for someone to have set up housekeeping inside.

  Pular Singe sniffed, pointed, gestured uncertainly. She dashed off. She circled back before I figured out what she was doing.

  She whispered to Fenibro but looked at me from beneath lowered lashes, eager for more approval. Fenibro told me, "The devils you seek are in there." He was scared. He wanted to get paid and go. His speech was barely intelligible. I understood Singe's rattalk almost as well. "They have bad odors, sir. They are evil. Even my blind nose tastes them now." He fidgeted, eager to go—but afraid to ask for money.

  Morley squatted on his haunches. I don't bend that way. I dropped to one knee. Dotes murmured, "Seems like we've done this thing before."

  "The vampire thing?" I stared at the mausoleum door. It stood open just wide enough to admit a bulk the size of a Crask or a Sadler. It seemed to sneer.

  Dotes asked me, "Do you have anything in case we prance into an ambush?"

  "I was thinking about throwing you in there to see what happens."

  Fenibro squeaked like one of his ancestors getting tromped. He suffered a sudden, sad suspicion that our natural inclination would be to elect him our tossee. Unlike Singe, he did not grasp the concept of humor.

  Singe spoke rapidly in rat polyglot. I caught just enough to understand that she was telling Fenibro to control himself, then that their part of the adventure was over and it was time for them to take off. I started mining my pockets for coins.

  Fenibro argued with Singe. He puffed his chest out, male demonstrating dominance. Singe hissed. Fenibro wilted. That left no doubt where real dominance resided. He whined, "Singe says to tell you Reliance requires no payment. Someday he will ask a favor in return."

  I groaned. That arrangement always gets me into trouble eventually.

  Morley ignored the ratpeople. He persisted, "I thought you might have something up your sleeve. You often do."

  "Not this time. I wish, though."

  "A light, then. Surely we can come up with a light."

  A glance around suggested otherwise. The refugees and squatters had stripped the cemetery of everything burnable.

  I nodded to Singe. "Go home now, darling. It might get hairy around here. And be careful."

  She took off instantly, practically abandoning Fenibro. He whined as he tried to catch up. There was no doubt that Singe was his girlfriend only inside his own head.

  Morley grouched, "You never put any forethought into anything you do, do you?"

  "This was your idea. You should've thought about bringing a lantern."

  "My idea? You're stalling, Garrett."

  Yes, I was. In a good cause, too. I'm really fond of my skin. It's rough and it's scarred but it's the only one I've got. Crask and Sadler might decide to use it to make wallets or belts.

  Morley heard the sound first but I caught it an instant later. Somebody was sneaking our way.

  There was enough moonlight to show me Morley. He gestured. I waved. We sank down behind antique tombstones.

  Fate handed me a wonderful opportunity to look goofy. Yet one more time.

  I jumped out at the sneaker, expecting Crask, Sadler, one of Relway's goons, a squatter determined to share my wealth, anything but a terrified Pular Singe, who should've been miles away already. We bumped snoots. She squeaked and started to run. I caught her arm. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I thought you'd gone home."

  Her fright faded as quickly as it had come. She looked at my hand. If she'd been human, she would've blushed. She did shiver. I let go but stayed ready to grab again if she bolted.

  "What is it?" I used my gentlest voice. And wondered where Morley was.

  "I brought... " Those words were perfectly clear, if few. And she'd heard me just fine. She seemed too embarrassed to continue. She couldn't meet my gaze. She lifted a shuttered lantern and offered it.

  "You're a dream come true, Pular Singe. I might just steal you away from Reliance."

  She was painfully embarrassed. She had a sense of humor but didn
't understand teasing. She was brilliant for her own people only.

  I didn't want her expiring from a stroke of shyness. "Thank you, Singe. You know I didn't think about needing a light. I owe you. Not Reliance or Fenibro or anybody else. You. Personally. You understand?"

  Still avoiding my gaze, she reached for the Goddamn Parrot. That critter remained deadweight. Maybe when I wasn't looking somebody did stuff him and nail him to my shoulder. Maybe some wicked sorcerer cast a spell on him. Thank you very much. "Pretty," Singe said.

  "You want him?"

  She looked at the ground, shook her head in quick little rolling jerks, then scooted away. Mr. Big has to be the most unwanted creature in this whole wide world. I can't get anybody to take him.

  Singe made less sound departing than her unaltered cousins might have. The noise she'd made approaching must have been deliberate.

  Morley materialized. "Another Garrett conquest."

  "What?"

  "Maybe it was just an illusion cast by that devil moonlight but these elven eyes saw Miss Pular Singe, brilliant young ratwoman, acting as smitten as any other teenager with a crush." He giggled. "You'd make a great team."

  The curse again? I shook my head vigorously. No rat would find anything redeeming in me. Or vice versa.

  Morley kept right on snickering. This was delicious. He lingered over wedding plans and what to name the children. "Or would you call them pups?"

  "Let's get on with this," I grumped. "Before we're all too old to keep up."

  "This is rich, Garrett. Now I remember why I liked being part of your adventures. They create so many memories for those lonely winter nights."

  He exaggerated. I think. Elves—even breeds like him—just don't think the way us humans do.

  56

  "Whenever you stop snickering," I said.

  "You armed?"

  "Only with my wits. Never mind the cracks." I wished I hadn't left that little crossbow back at the Weider place.

  "Take this." He offered me a small, flat-handled dagger I hadn't seen on him anywhere. No doubt he was lugging a whole arsenal not evident to the naked eye. He was such a prankster. He'd have a trebuchet on him somewhere. "Don't it seem awfully quiet in there?"

  It sure did. Crask and Sadler really had it in for Belinda. A scream or two would have been reassuring. There'd still be somebody to rescue. "Think they killed her already?"

  "Maybe. But let's be careful anyway."

  "Good plan. After you."

  He didn't argue. I had him at a disadvantage now. His night vision was better than mine. He had no sound tactical argument against leading the way—if we had to go at all.

  Once we were close enough to make out details it was obvious that the mausoleum's builders had belonged to one of our more bizarre early religions. The doorway was surrounded by carvings of fabulous creatures who glorified ugly. I plucked the Goddamn Parrot off my shoulder, planted him on an outcrop. Maybe he could go for help.

  "But for the color he fits right in." And the breathing part. I didn't clue him in, though. He might pick this exact moment to express one of his vulgar opinions.

  Dotes grinned, revealing a lot of sharp white teeth.

  Enough moonlight leaked into the mausoleum for Morley to see that no one lurked immediately beyond the doorway. He reached back, touched me, found the lantern, tapped it. I cracked the shutter. We'd stirred up a little dust already. The wedge of light swept around like a flaming sword.

  It revealed nothing startling.

  Morley pointed downward. There was evidence of recent traffic in the leaves and trash that had blown in over the years.

  I fought back a sneeze.

  Dotes kept moving. I kept a glimmer of light splashing out to probe the way. Even Morley can't see in complete darkness. Again I wondered if Crask and Sadler hadn't set me up. They knew I was a white knight dumb enough to roll the dice with death over a damsel in distress.

  The trail in the rubbish ran straight to a wall. "Damn!" I muttered. "Not another secret door. How come people think they can pull that off?"

  But it wasn't one of those. The builder hadn't been trying to fool anybody. This door was a massive wooden job. I stabbed its huge hinges with my sword of light. Our friends hadn't oiled them. They wouldn't operate quietly.

  Morley shrugged, bounced into place beside the door, whispered, "Let's go."

  What the hell. Might as well. It was only Crask and Sadler on the other side of that damned thing. Only a couple of superhuman, demi-demon, stone killers. A pair of walking nightmares. No big deal at all. Did it all the time.

  I grabbed the rusty ring and heaved.

  A slab of human meat the size of a small barn tipped out and crashed at my feet. One of the villains. I had no time to find out which.

  Morley slugged him in the temple with the pommel of a dagger cousin to the one he'd loaned me. Air left the huge killer in a sigh, like he'd never wanted anything more than he wanted to lie down and sleep right now.

  "Garrett?" The voice was weak but definitely Belinda's.

  "I'm here."

  A piglike grunt from the darkness preceded the wobbly rush of a pallid behemoth bigger than the leviathan snoring at my feet. A hand like a ham floated out of the darkness, grabbed me, flung me at the voice just starting to tell me to look out. There were grunts behind me, slaps and thumps and a growl of pain. Morley is good but he didn't get the best of this exchange. Brute force sometimes smothers style. Dotes cursed as he flew my way, apparently in the feet superior mode. He crashed into the mess on the floor before I could get my own feet under me again. The door slammed a moment later. I hit it with my shoulder an instant after that.

  There can't be any nightmare worse than mine about being buried alive.

  The door gave a little. I let out a mad-sorcerer cackle and hit it again. Something bashed it from the other side. The shock shot from my shoulder down to my toes and back. Crask cussed me and Sadler at the same time. "Get up! Get up!" he raged at his sidekick. His voice was feeble. Between them Two Toes, Carlyle, and Peckwood had dinged him badly and hurt Sadler even worse.

  I shoved. Crask shoved back. "Give me a hand, Morley!" The lantern's shutter was all the way open, shining on the ceiling and showing me Morley making points with Belinda by asking if she was all right.

  "Of course I'm not all right, you moron!" she snarled. "I'm lucky. They passed out before they could torture me much. Help Garrett. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life here, eating raw mice." Her voice was feeble but her will remained unflagging. She was a razor-edged chip off the old Contague flint.

  Crask wedged something against the door. We banged into it until my shoulder ached. We moved it a fraction of an inch each time, till Morley was able to weasel through. He muttered continuously. This adventure was playing hell with his outfit.

  He flung the blockage aside. I stalked out. Belinda clung to my left arm. She had no choice. She had no strength left. She grunted with every step. Crask and Sadler had given her a taste of joys to come.

  We hit the moonlight. "What now, dauntless sidekick?" Morley asked. "We don't have a tracker anymore. You should have kissed her. She would've hung around forever."

  "I did what I wanted to do. I got Belinda back." It was time to head home. Only, what were the chances I would run into Crask and Sadler in such reduced circumstances ever again? Less than zip. I grabbed the Goddman Parrot. "Which way did they go, bird?"

  His Highness did not deign to speak.

  A silent bird wasn't a problem I'd ever expected to face.

  I was worried about the Dead Man. I'd heard nothing for too long. He should have been nagging me mercilessly.

  He'd shown that he couldn't read shapechangers close up. Maybe they got to him while I was busy at Weider's. If one could pretend to be me long enough to get Dean to open the door...

  Morley whispered, "Didn't we decide that Relway would have a man watching?"

  "I counted on it when we went in there." Sort of.

>   "Then wouldn't you guess that Relway will know where those two went?"

  Probably, come to think. But would he let me know if I asked? Relway just might discover that he had some use for Crask and Sadler no one else could appreciate. I said, "They'll never be weaker. And you know they never forgive and forget."

  Morley patted my arm. "Good to see my wisdom finally taking root. But Belinda is in no shape to chase anybody."

  Belinda snapped, "Belinda will keep up! Belinda is in better shape than either of them. And Belinda's got another score to settle." Whereupon her legs melted and she had to grab a handy tombstone. "I don't want to hear a word, Garrett." Her voice didn't waver.

  Something stirred out in the darkness. It trailed the faintest whisper of disturbed grass. It headed the direction Crask and Sadler must have gone. Dotes and I exchanged glances. I asked Belinda, "Where were you headed when they grabbed you? They meant to catch you on your way home, only you—"

  "No. They were waiting on the way to your house. Originally. They were really pissed off because you didn't take me home. They wanted us both."

  "Lucky for both of us I had to work, then. Eh?"

  "Yeah? Isn't it?" Belinda didn't sound like she believed that in her heart, though.

  "Where were you going?" I asked again.

  She hesitated, then admitted, "To The Palms. People from the reception were going to meet there."

  "Oh." Neutrally, recalling that she had spoken to Marengo North English in parting and he had seemed surprised. None of my business, though. Except that later the same gentleman had seemed quite unhappy about being at The Palms with his delectable niece. I asked Morley, "You want to take her back to your place?" She would be safe there, if she wanted to be.

  "You're not going after them alone?" Morley's tone told me nothing I did would ever surprise him. Maybe because this wouldn't be stupider than anything I'd ever done before.