Faded Steel Heat gf-9

by Glen Cook

I chuckled. "You're the best. Look, I have to go out to the country. You go home and rest. You should stop taking risks for that old schemer."

  She stopped walking. For a moment she found the courage to look me directly in the eye, which ratpeople are almost constitutionally incapable of doing. Then she extended a paw. I extended my own. She gave me a light, nervous handshake. "Thank you for not being cruel."

  "Cruel? What?... " Pular Singe vanished into an alley more quietly than one of the creatures from which her race had been wrought.

  94

  Headed toward the city gate I discovered that I was being tailed again. There were three of them, working as a team. They were good. But they didn't have the advantage of having tagged me with a spell. Somebody had to stay close to see me. Which meant I could see him if I paid attention.

  One was a Relway thug I'd seen in the background around the Weider place. So my pals at the Al-Khar did have time and manpower to watch me even when there was excitement going on right inside their own house.

  Who were the raiders? If the shifters were all holed up at the Lamp brewery, crying in their beer? Could I assume they were Genord's pals?

  Relway or Block would let me know. If the mood took them.

  Mine was not a comfortable journey, even with the Guard watching over me. I was without defensive resources again. And I was alone. My passage drew concerned or calculating looks everywhere. Already there was a general assumption that a man alone either had reason to be supremely confident or was a complete fool.

  I tried to maintain a confident swagger.

  I felt a puff of cool air. I hadn't paid much attention to the weather. Clouds were piled up to the south. We might be in for some thunderstorms. This time of year they usually hold off till late afternoon. If I really hustled, I could get back to town ahead of the showers.

  By the time I reached The Pipes the temperature had risen and the clouds had become less impressive. They would grow again when the temperature began to fall.

  Hey! I don't recall anybody ever paying much attention to that kind of thing. Well, maybe farmers. But you'd have a hell of a racket going if you could predict the weather. Stormwardens make a hell of a racket out of just creating small spots of weather... But that's a tough way to make a living. The magic is harder on the magician than it is on the world around him.

  There was steady traffic on the road but I never worried. I didn't draw attention to myself. I was just one more vagabond drifting. Call uniforms and freecorps armbands were plentiful, suggesting a lot of messages moving between The Pipes and Marengo's satraps inside the city. I expected trouble getting past the gate but Marengo and Mr. Nagit had left word. The gate was well-defended now. Still not strongly enough to whip a troop of centaurs but, probably, enough to discourage that crew from attacking in the first place.

  What had become of them? Did Block and Relway mention them to their military contacts? Or Mr. Nagit or Colonel Theverly might have done so. It needed doing. We couldn't have random armed bands roving the countryside.

  A youngster who reminded me of me six or seven years ago went to the house with me. "You walked all the way out here?" Like he found that hard to believe.

  "You must've been cavalry."

  "Yeah."

  "Figures."

  "What's that mean?"

  "Nothing personal. I just don't like horses. Anything interesting happened since yesterday?" Probably better change the subject. Cavalry types are goofy about horses. You can't find an ounce of rational paranoia among ten thousand of them.

  "Been a campout. Bigwigs been busy, though. The Old Man got mad once he got over having his feelings hurt."

  North English let word of his pecadillo get out? I asked.

  "Nah, he ain't bragging. But other people know. Word gets around."

  Interesting. Marengo told me he was the only survivor of the ambush. I should've been the only one he told the real story. "Just out of curiosity, what story did you hear?"

  His story matched Marengo's.

  Interestinger and interestinger.

  Why would he want everyone to know? Most of us prefer to conceal our humiliations and screwups. Marengo North English struck me as very much that sort of man. What was the tactical advantage?

  Or had he confided in someone who hadn't kept his secret? Or... Might one of his attackers have retailed the story?

  95

  My return must have been portentous for North English. Fifteen minutes after I entered his house I was alone with him in his dimly lighted sanctum. His expression suggested he was unnaturally interested in what I would have to say. Before he could ask me anything I inquired, "Are you aware that every man on the grounds knows what happened the other night? Not the official version but the version you told me?" If the men knew, then Tama must know. Might be a good time to find out if she had formed any opinions.

  A darkness stirred behind Marengo's eyes. Perhaps it was veiled anger. He growled, "I didn't tell anyone but you." He watched me intently. I don't know what he expected.

  "And I never told a soul," I lied. Then I mused, "You did say that the men who attacked you looked like they belonged to the movement."

  North English grunted. He must've thought about that more than he wanted to admit. He must've taken it to heart. The kid who had walked me to the house had told me Marengo was hiding out today, letting no one in to see him but Tama. There were no bodyguards around so maybe he was getting paranoid about everybody.

  I told him, "I saw Belinda. She swears she had nothing to do with the attack, nor was she responsible for that invitation. I believe her."

  North English's style was becoming plebian. He grunted again, evidently preoccupied with rearranging furniture inside his head. He didn't seem surprised by what I'd just said. Eventually he pulled himself together, and urged, "Tell me what you think."

  I offered some ideas that had occurred to me during the walk from town. Marengo continued more attentive than ever before. Somehow he must've come to the conclusion that I was a real person.

  "You're convinced there's a connection between Brotherhood Of The Wolf and this Black Dragon gang?"

  "There's no absolute proof but the circumstantial evidence looks strong to me."

  "And this's something you just came up with on the way out here?"

  "Oh, no. The Guard are looking at the possibilities from another angle. There may have been a previous connection during the war. And the shapeshifters may be associated with Glory Mooncalled somehow."

  It was obvious that was something Marengo didn't want to hear. "You have a plan?" The North English I wanted to believe in, the one who could contemplate mass extinctions without qualm, seemed about to emerge from behind the mask. Marengo sounded harder and more angry by the minute.

  I said, "I have some ideas. There'll be risks. Do you have any men you trust completely? Bearing in mind that the Brotherhood Of The Wolf was practically your bodyguard."

  Hard Marengo glared. He didn't like my plan already.

  "I can find men on my own. If you prefer." Like he was in whether or not he liked it.

  "Talk to me."

  I explained. He frowned a lot. He seemed confused by several points, like his memory was a little rocky. He muttered to himself, interrupted himself to ask, "Does this mean you've lost interest in the library?"

  "Pretty much." What the hell brought that on? I reviewed briefly, then continued.

  Marengo asked, "Will Weider cooperate?"

  "I think so." Putting words into the Old Man's mouth.

  "I'd guess so, too. He'll want to balance the books. How many men will you want?"

  "Say twenty? Enough to put up a fight even if a few aren't trustworthy."

  "Good. Good. When do you want to do it?" He seemed eager to cooperate now.

  Marengo North English seemed a different man when he wasn't "on" in front of his followers. No sense of conviction came off him at all.

  "As soon as we can. Which would be tomorrow night at the ear
liest, probably. There's a lot to pull together."

  "At this end, too. But I think we need to do it. Find Nagit. Don't tell him anything, just send him to me. I'll talk to him, then send him along with you to run messages. So you don't have to ride out here and back every few hours."

  "All right. But I wouldn't be riding, I'd be walking."

  As I started toward the door he demanded, "Why the hell don't you get a horse?"

  I thought he knew. "I need the exercise." They must've done some research on me. That was common sense.

  He smiled wickedly. "That's right." And now I got the feeling he did know all about me. I had the feeling that he was taunting me somehow. Or maybe he was just letting me know that I wasn't inside anything here yet and there was no way I was going to get inside. This was a marriage of convenience only.

  North English suggested, "Tell Nagit to dredge you up some decent clothing. It'd be a shame if everything went in the shitter because you got dumped into a vagrants' home."

  The shitter? Why would he, suddenly, start using language like that? It didn't fit the superior-race image.

  96

  I ran into Tama in the hallway outside. She was carrying tea and rolls for two. The tea smelled good. She seemed delighted to see me, yet infinitely suspicious. "Will you stay a little longer this time?" Her voice husked. My spine quivered. My knees jellied. Boy, could she suggest a lot without saying anything.

  Her smile broadened. It told me Tinnie wasn't here to save me this time. I gobbled, "I wish I could." She slithered closer. Long, dark fingers spidered up my chest to my hair, my cheek, then drifted down again. The woman was pure devil.

  "Some chances come once in a lifetime. Are you done in there?"

  "Uhm." I was done. I was crispy around the edges. "I need to find Mr. Nagit." I gulped. Seemed like I needed an awful lot of air suddenly.

  "He went out to the stables. Probably trying to stay out of Colonel Theverley's way. They don't get along. Do take advantage of the tea while it's hot."

  She stepped very close again. That demon hand... Marengo North English was one lucky man. She never stopped smiling and never turned off the raw animal attraction. I took a cup and stared and tried to find my lost breath as she went on to serve Marengo.

  I don't know what Tinnie meant. Tama's behind didn't look bony at all. In fact...

  I found Mr. Nagit out back. He couldn't have been more thrilled to see me if I'd been the old boy with the sickle. But he was a gentleman. He was polite. I told him what I thought he needed to know. "He's going to plug the leak? Wonderful. Then the attack did wake him up."

  "Do I detect a tremor of distrust of the high command's wisdom?"

  Weak smile. "You are a detective. Yes. I've had to stand around in the background, keeping my mouth shut, during an ongoing debate about how much it matters if somebody warns the Other Races that we're coming. I thought the boss had yielded to the majority opinion, that it doesn't."

  "The boss might be smarter and tougher than people think. He might be sandbagging."

  Nagit grunted. "The one thing they're all forgetting, or just don't want to remember, is that Glory Mooncalled is out there somewhere. Nobody wants to listen when I say he's dealt himself into the game."

  "I'll listen. Because you're right. I think he's in the game big. I just don't know how. Yet. But you're right. Marengo didn't like that idea at all when I brought it up."

  "He's been a little odd since the attack. More so today. Today he's staying locked up in there, not letting anyone in but the Montezuma woman. You'll want a change of clothes before we go. Right?"

  "So many people disapprove of my wardrobe, I just have to assume that that might be appropriate. And I wouldn't mind borrowing a few knives and whatnot, so I'll feel more comfortable while I'm roaming around."

  "I expect we can find you a nice outfit and a suite of cutlery." There was something sly about the way he said that. "Pick yourself a horse while you're out here."

  "Uh... "

  "I'm giving up my time to help you, Garrett. You'll make a few accommodations for me, too."

  What was this? Did everybody in Karenta know I don't get along with horses?

  Probably everybody who's already fallen under the sway of those monsters did. They gossiped behind my back. Those strange people who actually like the beasts probably understand what they're saying, somehow.

  I grumbled, "Point me toward the old plodders."

  "If that's what you want. Personally, I'd rather have something that could get up some speed if we ran into those centaurs."

  "What?"

  "There's a large band of centaurs in the area. On the move. Just as you told us. The colonel has patrols out looking for them." Mr. Nagit sounded like he begrudged having to say anything positive about Theverly. "The patrols haven't been able to pin them down. They're doing better watching us than we're doing finding them."

  I made masculine noises. "As long as we know where they're not."

  "Luck won't love you forever, Garrett. Pick a good horse."

  Seemed to me luck wanted a trial separation already. "All right. I'll go to the library and wait when I'm done. Don't forget to see the boss."

  "I'd like to. I've got troubles enough without having to hold his hand and run his errands."

  Dang me. Sounded like there was disillusionment in paradise. "What's going on?"

  "Besides the centaurs? I've got another dead man. I've got a missing man. And I've got a man missing a limb. I've got livestock scattered everywhere. I've got berserk thunder lizards staggering around biting everything that moves—including each other. And I've got a self-proclaimed hero-of-the-soldiers colonel who's completely indifferent to all those problems."

  I lifted an eyebrow high. That works differently when you show it to a man. "What happened?" In a tone hopefully dripping empathy.

  "The shitstorm started last night when Venable's pets went crazy. They spooked the cattle and sheep, went after each other, tore up Venable's other arm when he tried to get them under control, and killed somebody, apparently an outsider, who's torn up too badly to identify. Tollie was missing this morning but the corpse isn't him because the dead man was shorter, fatter, and older than the kid. I say the dead man must be a stranger because none of the other men are missing."

  "And Venable's pets only attack strangers."

  "Says Venable."

  "Even this morning?"

  "Even this morning. He claims they had to be poisoned or ensorcelled. Which is a troubling notion, too. And Theverly could care less about that, either. I'm not a man who swears much, Mr. Garrett, but I do wish this shit would come to an end and we could concentrate on our mission."

  I asked several professionally oriented questions, all of which had occurred to Mr. Nagit and none of which had yet generated conclusive answers. He grumbled, "None of that matters anymore because right now I've got no greater mission than to go get orders to join you in your adventures, probably mainly so I can bang you over the head if you manage to irritate the boss or his honey."

  "I detect a note of disaffection, perhaps complicated by a dollop of cynicism."

  "Not a note, Mr. Garrett. A whole damned opera. I'd leave if there was anywhere better to go. But where? Bondurant Altoona? Arnes Mingle? The sad part is, this, here, is as good as it gets. Parker! I need you."

  Mr. Nagit drafted Parker to help me with a mount, then stalked off. I started my search. I looked each beast directly in the eye, hunting for fast and strong but stupid enough to have no intellect left over for malice. Reluctantly, I made a choice and had her prepared.

  On my way I encountered Mr. Nagit's favorite colonel, Moches Theverly. Evidently Theverly didn't remember that we'd served together in the islands. At least he didn't seem inclined to drop everything and rehash old times. He didn't seem inclined to acknowledge my existence. And that was fine with me. There might come a moment when I didn't want him to recall who I was.

  I noticed that he still surrounded himself with th
e same cronies he'd had years ago. And still projected the same air of immense competence. And still bore the scars of the wounds that had gotten him pulled out just before the big Venageti hammer came down on those of us who stayed behind.

  I studied him while I had the chance and soon decided that he probably didn't signify in anything that was going on with me. He was just somebody who happened to be around, an actor who walked across the stage.

  I amused myself sorting books and snatching peeks at anything that sounded intriguing until, after a much longer delay than I expected, Mr. Nagit showed up with a selection of personal weaponry and a change of clothing I didn't find quite suitable. "A uniform?" I complained.

  "It's all that's available." That amused Nagit. No doubt he'd conspired to contrive a shortage of more normal apparel.

  "Don't get the idea that because I'm wearing the suit I'm one of the troops. Next time I enlist I plan to start my career as a general."

  "And work your way to the bottom, I suppose. Listen, Garrett. The Call wouldn't take you in if you did want to join. You're one big old tangle of unanswered questions and nobody wants to bother digging."

  And just a few days ago everybody in the rights racket wanted to sign me on, for the full nightmare. When I still had a nonhuman partner and friends of questionable ethnic purity. I must've stopped being the ideal recruit while I was looking the other way.

  Maybe Black Dragon Valsung still wanted me. Or Brotherhood Of The Wolf. We could let bygones be bygones. Couldn't we?

  As I dressed I chewed on the sour certainty that my position had been marginalized all along, by everyone. They'd all wanted me to poke hornets' nests somewhere else but hadn't wanted me getting intimate with their own schemes. I was a ball bouncing randomly off any number of walls. No more than what Morley would call a finagle or a confusion factor. A bee annoying everybody.

  "Not a bad fit," I said, checking over each shoulder. "The styling is a little too army but I do look almost dashing."

  "The ladies will swoon." Mr. Nagit fought a smile.