The Bird of the River

by Kage Baker

  Krelan had approached a fourth clerk and spoken to him. The clerk hurried through a door behind the counting table and a moment later returned with a portly bank official wearing a chain of office.

  “Now, what is this? Who are you?” demanded the official.

  Krelan spoke to him in a voice that was also still and quiet and cold, very different from the weak voice he’d used when first he’d come aboard the Bird of the River. “This is my authority,” he said, and drew a tablet from his pouch. He presented it to the bank official, who opened it and peered down at it a moment.

  “Oh,” said the bank official, in a much lower voice. He seemed to shrink a bit within his robes. He handed the tablet back and looked up at Krelan with nervous eyes. “How may we assist the noble Family?”

  The merchants glanced over at them and abruptly decided the bank was not a good place to be. They grabbed their receipts from the bank clerks and hurried out. Krelan waited until they had departed and said: “Lord Encilian Diamondcut opened an account here in the spring.”

  “He may have, sir. We pride ourselves on our confidentiality,” said the bank official.

  “Lord Encilian is deceased. Regard his death attestation,” said Krelan, drawing out another document and opening it before the official’s eyes. The official read closely.

  “Oh, dear. My condolences to the noble Family. Such a young man too! Dear, dear. You’ve come to close out his account, then, sir.”

  “Precisely,” said Krelan, allowing a faint shade of graciousness into his voice. Eliss tried not to smile. She looked out the window and saw, to her surprise, that the blind beggar had moved from his corner and was tapping his way along the street toward the bank, waving a stick before him.

  “The Merchant’s Bank of Krolerett is happy to comply with the noble Family. Brasspunch! Fetch the vault key.”

  “Immediately, sir.” One of the clerks fled. The bank official leaned close to Krelan and lowered his voice still further.

  “I must advise the noble Family that the circumstances were somewhat irregular.”

  “Were they? In what way?” Krelan inquired. Eliss watched as the beggar reached the end of the street and sat down on the curb, right in front of the bank. Did he think merchants on bank errands would feel particularly compassionate?

  “His lordship opened a joint account.”

  “With whom?”

  “With his manservant, sir.”

  “Manservant!”

  “And ordinarily with a joint account we would require authorization from representatives of both parties, you see, sir, or at least attestation that the other party was also deceased—”

  “He opened an account in his name and the manservant’s?”

  “Quite so, most irregular, and I made very sure to point out to the young lord that such an arrangement might present difficulties at some future date. He was not disposed to be advised in this matter, however.”

  A merchant came in with a courier’s sealed pouch strapped to his chest. He had not even looked at the beggar. He shrugged off the pouch and one of the bank clerks unsealed it and began to count out the contents.

  “The most noble Diamondcuts require the name of the manservant,” said Krelan.

  “Of course, sir, and may I just assure the noble Family that under the circumstances, which are indeed peculiar, the Merchant’s Bank of Krolerett will of course waive all requirements relating to the second party? The servant was—er—”

  The clerk Brasspunch hurried up, presenting the key with a bow.

  “Thank you,” said Krelan, taking it.

  “Mr. Brasspunch, be so good as to fetch the file for Lord Diamondcut,” said the bank official. As the clerk hurried away obediently, the official added, “I very much regret that I cannot recall the servant’s name without referencing the documents. We’ll have them for the noble Family in just a moment, sir.”

  Krelan tapped the key against his chin thoughtfully. “Now, why in seven hells would his lordship want to open a joint account with a servant?”

  “He said it was for convenience’s sake, sir. In case he should need to send his servant to make a withdrawal for him. I tried to convey to him the possible danger in trusting a servant, but . . .” The bank official looked at his shoes and coughed. “His lordship was most emphatic that his orders were to be carried out in every respect.”

  “Of course.”

  Eliss frowned, watching as beyond the window two more beggars ventured down the street toward the bank. One limped, a crutch under his arm; one, twisted by palsy, staggered along leaning on the walls of the shops as he came. Why were they deserting the intersection for this quiet dead end of the street?

  “The file, sir.” Brasspunch emerged from a back office and presented a tablet with pendant seals. The bank official took it and opened it.

  “Here we are! The servant’s name is Stryon Waxcast.” He turned the tablet so Krelan could see it. Krelan took the tablet, scowling.

  “Waxcast? Not a common name.”

  “With respect, sir, not in these parts, but I have heard of several Waxcasts down toward Synpelene,” said the bank official.

  “This seems to be in order. . . .” Krelan studied the tablet a moment longer before closing it with a snap. “Well. The deposit, please.”

  “This way, sir.”

  They walked back into the depths of the bank and vanished through a doorway. Eliss watched as the beggars reached the end of the street. These were fakers too, she realized; the one with crutches had well-muscled legs, and while the palsied one held his arm twisted up under his shoulder, the arm was not withered. They sat down, one on either side of the beggar who was feigning blindness. This was wrong. . . .

  She saw the showman with his wagonload of demons come around the corner up at the intersection. To her surprise, he too started down the street toward the bank.

  “Just show you to our private room in here, and you can open the box and assure yourself that all is as it ought to be.” The bank official’s voice came again as he returned through the door with Krelan.

  “Very good. Thank you.”

  The street sloped downhill, so the wheeled cage was proceeding at a much quicker pace now. Eliss felt a tightening in her throat. Too many odd things happening at once . . .

  “Of course, I will need to be present when the box is opened—and the law requires that we have one additional witness, for form’s sake, you understand, sir, to assure that all is as it should be. I can call in one of my clerks, however—”

  “No need. I have a maidservant. Mrs. Stone?” Krelan looked into the main room. “I require you a moment.”

  “At once, your lordship,” Eliss said, making a face at him as she got to her feet. She found her gaze drawn again to the window as she walked forward. The wheeled cage lurched to a stop just in front of the three beggars. The blind beggar ripped away the gauze bandage over his eyes. The one-eyed showman flung open the cage’s door and the demons leaped out, just as the beggars scrambled to their feet. All the pieces came together in a moment of revelation.

  “They’re thieves!” screamed Eliss. “They’re going to rob the bank!”

  The merchant, who had just collected his receipt and was in the act of pushing the door open, looked up and said “What?” His legs were quicker than his brain, however. He fled through the door and was away up the street before the first of the demons came charging in, brandishing a club. The guards had their spears up and warding him back, but the windows snapped out as the other demons leaped through, followed by the beggars and the men who had been pushing the cage. By that time Eliss herself had vanished around the corner, pulled by Krelan past the bank official into the shuttered room.

  Krelan put his finger to her lips. She heard the bank official, out in the corridor, shout once and say, “Thieves! Call the—” before there was a dull thud. There were a couple of nasty cries. Eliss recognized the sound of a man trying to yell with a cut throat. She put her hands over her ears,
fighting back an unpleasant memory.

  “Oh, look, he’s got a gold chain,” said a new voice, one neither cold nor quiet. “Thank you, dead man.”

  “Please! No!”

  “He’s got a key too. Here! Clerk. Answer quick and you don’t die. Is this the key to the main vault?”

  “N-no, that’s the key to the private accounts vault.”

  “Where’s the key to the main vault?”

  “In Mr. Coppersheet’s office!”

  “Him? Feriolekk, take this one in and get the vault key. Do as you’re told, clerk, and you live.”

  Eliss lowered her hands, struggling against terror. She looked around the private room, in which there was nothing but a table and a pair of chairs. No vaults in here. Nothing anyone would want. Maybe they won’t come in. Krelan had taken up a position behind the door. He had a dagger in his hand—briefly she wondered where he had gotten it—and his face was completely blank.

  “People in the street, Shellback!”

  “Raker, Shirrigal, go grin out the windows at them. Shoot anybody who gets close. Where’s that fucking key?”

  Not seeing what was going on was almost as painful as the terror. Eliss moved to the shutters. She found a tiny chink where one metal slat was just far enough out of alignment with the others to provide a view into the front room. She peered through. The two guards lay dead on the floor and so did the bank official, in a spreading pool of blood. His chain of office currently swung from the fist of the one-eyed showman, who had thrust aside his eyepatch and was glaring around the room with two good eyes. Several men and another demon stood guard on three clerks, who were flattened up against the wall behind the counting table. A pair of demons armed with crossbows stood at either window. As Eliss watched, one of them took aim and shot at someone in the street beyond. There was a scream and a rising babble of voices up the street.

  “Here!” A demon strode into view—the one who had called Krelan a shrimp—pushing the terrified Mr. Brasspunch ahead of him. Mr. Brasspunch held out a key.

  “Finally.” The showman—So this is Shellback, Eliss registered—grabbed the key. “Shadow, Tooth, take this. You, clerk, show them where the vault is. Crow and Knacker, put the clerks on the floor.”

  “Down on your faces!” roared the demon, and the terrified clerks dropped.

  “They’re all staying back, lord,” said one of the demons at the window.

  “Good.” Shellback handed the other key to one of his lieutenants. “You, go see what you can get out of the private vault. You, go with him. Everything in the bags. Follow the plan.”

  “Right.”

  Krelan tensed at the door, but no one came in. Eliss heard footfalls in the hallway and busy noises. Somewhere in the depths of the bank, coin was being shoveled into bags. Somewhere else it sounded as though boxes were being opened and either tossed aside or emptied, with rattling and clinking, into other bags. One of the clerks was weeping and praying. Another might have been praying silently: Eliss could see his lips moving as he lay on the floor, his face turned toward her. Shellback slipped the gold chain over his head, admiring it. He was a young man, unshaven, good-looking as far as Eliss could tell. The pool of blood on the floor grew larger.

  Now there was more noise from the street. There were shouted orders and the sound of tramping boots.

  “Lord,” said one of the demons at the windows, “there’s soldiers coming.”

  “What!” Shellback ran to the window. One of the men guarding the clerks leaned over to see too.

  “They’ve called the militia,” he said.

  “They don’t have a fucking militia! He said they didn’t have any militia!” said Shellback.

  “Looks like one to me,” said one of the demons, speaking carefully around his tusks.

  “I’ll fucking kill him,” said Shellback. “I will. Get the clerks up where they can see them! We’ve got hostages!” He bawled the last sentence out the window, just as a bolt came zipping through. It missed him by inches and plunked into the wall behind the counting table. The clerks were dragged to their feet and held up to the windows, grasped close, each with a blade at his throat.

  Eliss looked away and met Krelan’s eyes. He gestured toward the floor. Get down, he mouthed silently. Eliss thought of lying terrified on the floor, unable to see, unable to tell what was happening, unable to do anything but lie there being afraid. She shook her head. He scowled at her. She shrugged and put her eye to the shutter again.

  The demons had backed away from the window and the clerks were being held there in a line, sweating, and the thieves holding them there were sweating too. Shellback paced behind them. The demons watched him.

  “Are we dead?” asked one of them.

  “No. No, everything goes with the plan. A few changes, that’s all. We have them.” Shellback jerked his thumb at the clerks.

  “Somebody’s coming,” said one of the men holding the clerks.

  “You in the bank,” called a voice from outside. Eliss saw the officer of the militia walking out to the end of the street, visible in glimpses between the bodies of the hostages. “Let’s talk.”

  “As long as you like,” Shellback shouted. He turned and stared down the corridor, presumably at his men who were filling bags with money, and made hurry-up gestures.

  “You’re Shellback, aren’t you?”

  “My fame precedes me!” Shellback held up his hands like an orator. The demons grinned and stamped their feet.

  “This is a new tactic for you, isn’t it?”

  “Never do to become predictable!”

  “Didn’t work very well, did it? I mean, there you are, and here we are. Where’s Mr. Coppersheet?”

  “Now, who would that be?”

  “The man in charge. Him with the gold chain.”

  “Then I must be the man in charge now, because I’m wearing the chain!”

  “So you killed him?”

  “Him and the guards too. Stupid to keep just two spears in here, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, see, but we knew we’d just established a civil guard for the whole town. We didn’t think anybody’d be stupid enough to get themselves in the fix you’re in. See, now you’re trapped.”

  “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Shellback winked at the demons. His men came up from the corridor, dragging the filled sacks. He shook his head and signed that they should go back, and pointed down the corridor and mouthed Back wall.

  “So what it comes down to is, you’re going to die in there. I know this. Your men can see the troop I’ve got lined up across the street. They know they’re outnumbered. The demons probably don’t care, but the others know you’ve killed them. Unless we can cut a deal, Shellback.”

  “What kind of deal?” Eliss watched Shellback making gestures at one of the demons, who stared in blank incomprehension. Grimacing, Shellback crossed the room in two strides and picked up a wooden case one of them had carried in. He thrust it into the demon’s arms and whispered, “Back wall, remember?”

  “You let the hostages go. Do that and surrender, and your men will live. You’ll die. The demons will die. But, and I swear this by all the gods, your men will live.”

  Shellback laughed loudly. The demon smiled around his tusks, slapped his forehead with one hand, and ran off down the corridor with the wooden box.

  “Laugh if you like, but I’ll bet your men aren’t laughing. I think they’re thinking about turning on you,” said the officer of the militia.

  “I think you don’t know them very well!”

  “Listen to me, Shellback’s men! The first one of you comes out the door with his head, that man gets a full pardon and a reward.”

  “They’re not listening!” Shellback paced back and forth, watching something going on down the corridor.

  “They can’t help but hear me. The Krolerett Merchant’s Council will pay a thousand crowns to any one of you who turns on Shellback. Two men turn, two thousand crowns. Three men, three thousand. Gold crowns. T
he more of you turn, the more you’ll be paid. You outnumber the demons, don’t you? You can earn more than you would have made sharing out the loot. Think about it. Think about being true sons of the Father Smith.”

  All the while the other was speaking, Eliss watched Shellback watching what was going on down the corridor. He gnawed his lip. When the other finished, there was a long moment of silence. Shellback stepped close behind one of the men holding hostages and muttered, “Ask him to swear by the gods you won’t go to prison.”

  “Can you swear by the holy gods we won’t go to prison?” the man shouted obediently.

  “I swear by all the holy gods you won’t go to prison!”

  The two demons, Feriolekk and the one who had carried the wooden box, came running back. “It’s set!” Feriolekk told Shellback, who grinned.

  “Don’t trust him! You have to be alive to spend cash, my friends,” cried Shellback. He dropped his voice. “Right. Tradeoff. Demons take the hostages. You four run with me to the back. Just as we planned, eh? Feriolekk, the minute it goes, kill ’em. Then fight for your lives.”

  The minute what goes? Eliss wondered, as the demons traded places with the men holding the hostages, who had begun to whimper and scream.

  “You were a good lord,” said Feriolekk, as a sudden dull boom came from the rear of the building, but Shellback had already turned and bolted with the other men in the direction of the explosion. Eliss looked away from the shutter at last, but not soon enough to miss the sight of the demons killing the hostages. Someone grabbed her wrist.

  “Now will you get down?” Krelan murmured in her ear. She let him pull her to the floor with him as he sank down, and braced his body against the bottom of the door. Eliss lay on the floor, staring at Mrs. Riveter’s market basket with its string of onions poking out of the top, while bolts snapped and thumped through the windows. There were horrible high-pitched screams. A bolt came through the shutters and buried itself in the wall opposite, not near enough to have killed Eliss if she had still been on her feet but too near, all the same. Eliss shut her eyes and prayed.