Deathstalker Coda

by Simon R. Green

  "How the hell are we going to get their attention?" said Stuart, shouting right into Douglas's ear.

  "Same way we did with de Rack," said Douglas. "Nina, if you wouldn't mind…"

  Nina didn't mind at all. Grinning broadly, she kicked a few people in the shins to make some room, raised her very big gun, and blew a hole right through one wall. The clamor broke off abruptly as everyone present fought to draw their weapons or locate the nearest exit. Nina carefully lowered her gun. Douglas jumped up onto the nearest table and smiled calmly about him.

  "Everyone relax, it's not a raid. Some of you may recognize me and my two friends as the ones who killed de Rack and broke up his protection racket. We did it because… people shouldn't have to put up with shit like that. Just as you shouldn't have to put up with shit like this. Look at you—the descendants of a hero, a legend, and you're reduced to hiding out in the Rookery, denied your true destiny, unable to fulfill your potential. Unable to prove yourselves worthy of the legend of Jack Random. I've come to show you a way out. A way to change your lives forever."

  And he took off his leather face mask. For a long moment no one moved, held in a shocked silence, and then a great roar went up from the crowd as they recognized Douglas Campbell. One thought was in all their minds as they looked on the ex-Paragon and ex-King, and that thought was Money! The massive reward Finn had put on Douglas's head, preferably no longer attached to the body, would enable them to live like Kings. (There was another, smaller reward on Stuart's head. Finn could be sentimental that way, sometimes. He didn't want Stuart to feel left out.)

  The whole crowd looked at Douglas with hungry eyes, and then surged forward as one to drag him down. Stuart and Nina defended both sides of the table with kicks and punches and the occasional headbutt. Nina in particular proved especially adept at dirty fighting. Douglas looked calmly out over the uproar, not even bothering to draw his sword or his gun, even when the clutching hands came very close to his legs. He raised his voice again, and almost despite themselves, the Bastards quieted to hear what he had to say. He was Douglas Campbell, after all, and his reputation went before him.

  "You must know my friends and I will kill a hell of a lot of you, before you can drag us down. I was a Paragon and a warrior long before I was a King. My friends are warriors too. You're ready to fight and die for money, but not for your freedom? What would Jack Random think of that? He was the professional rebel; you're just professional lowlifes. And not very successful ones, of late. Either you find the guts to fight back against Finn's unjust rule, or pretty soon there won't be any Random's Bastards. He'll pick you off one by one, and your heads will decorate rows of spikes outside the palace as an example to others. And Jack Random's extended line will die with you. I never gave you any reason to love me, but at least I respected you. Finn's law is harsher on you than I ever was. He'll kill you all, because of the legacy of freedom and justice you represent. Your only hope lies in rebellion, and for that you need a leader everyone will follow. And that's me."

  A slow murmur moved reluctantly through the packed crowd. He's not wrong. Times are bad. Bloody Church Militant everywhere. Can't make a decent living anymore. Finn's a swine, all right. Probably couldn't trust him to pay the reward anyway. When the Campbell was a Paragon, you always knew where you were with him. He was vicious, but fair.

  "You have to do this," said Douglas, and the muttering stopped at once. They were all listening now. "You have to do it, for your pride and your freedom. I know there have been uprisings before, and Finn stamped them out with cruel, terrible tactics. He doesn't have to care about being popular anymore. But those earlier rebels were a bunch of amateurs. No common cause, no discipline, no leader. You are all practical, professional rebels, and practiced fighters, and… you have me to lead you. You only have to look around you to see what the world has become—what the Rookery has become. You were always rogues, but you had your pride. Now look at you, reduced to preying on each other for pocket change. You don't have to be like this. You don't have to live like this. You are Jack Random's legacy, a part of the legacy of the Great Rebellion, of Owen Deathstalker and his allies. And now the time has come for you to be worthy of them. Don't wait for the Durandal to send his fanatics in here to clear the place out; be the rebels you were born to be. Rise up!"

  And Random's Bastards roared their approval and cheered him till the room rang with the power of it. Stuart and Nina couldn't believe it. Hardened criminals who'd steal the gold teeth from their sleeping grandmothers, who'd worked every con and scheme known to man, stamped their feet and hammered their hands together till they ached. It probably helped that most of them were broke and bored and more than ready for a little action, but Douglas had offered them their pride back again, and maybe, just maybe, there was some of Jack Random in them after all.

  Douglas got down off his table, and introduced Stuart Lennox and Nina Malapert to the crowd. The Bastards nodded respectfully to the ex-Paragon, and to Nina's gun, but really they had eyes only for Douglas. He carried on talking long into the evening, mixing the inspirational with the practical. Declaring a rebellion was all very well, but there were details to be worked out. Luckily between them the Bastards knew everyone in the Rookery, or at least everyone who mattered. They knew exactly where Douglas should go next, to best spread the message beyond the Three Cripples. They were all quick to reassure him that there were lots of people in the Rookery who hated the way things were, and were only waiting to be given a focus and a leader. They wanted their old devious lives back, and were ready to fight for them. The Rookery had always been full of fighters. They would follow Douglas because they knew him—as a Paragon and as a King, and as one of them, brought low by the hated Finn Durandal.

  More meetings followed, at carefully chosen venues all across the Rookery, followed by open rallies attended by first hundreds and then thousands of eager listeners. Everyone wanted to hear Douglas speak, as he rallied and cajoled and inspired them with thundering words and the power of a simple truth: that they had the power to change their lives, if they were only strong enough to seize it. Douglas reminded them of how far they'd fallen under Emperor Finn, and they roared their rage. Their anger had been silent and diffused for so long only because no one had dared to stand up and put it into words. Douglas gave them back their pride, and they loved him for it. And finally he stood on a simple stage in an open square, facing hundreds of thousands of eager listeners, and he knew it was time.

  "Let the word go out!" he said, his voice echoing in the silence of devout attention. "From now on the Rookery is a no-go area for all of Finn's creatures! His authority has no power here. His overbearing and unjust rule stops at our borders. Any one of his people comes in, they don't get out again. No more taxes without representation. No more executions without trial. No more Church Militant bully-boys telling you how to run your lives. No more Emperor Finn sneering at you because he thinks he doesn't have to be afraid of you anymore. He thinks he's broken you. It's time to prove him wrong. We're kicking his people out and taking the Rookery back! Then the Parade of the Endless! And finally all of Logres!

  "Because if not us, then who?"

  And after that the cheers and roars of approval and determination were so loud, Finn must have heard them, even in the dark heart of his usurped palace.

  One man in particular felt his life change forever when he saw Douglas Campbell reveal his true identity in the Three Cripples that first night. Tel Markham, who had once been a member of Parliament and a mover and a shaker in any number of secret organizations, but who now washed dishes for a living in the filthy back kitchen of the tavern. He ate scraps of food left on plates, and fought the rats and other vermin for it too. His once proud clothes were filthy rags, and he slept in a doss-house, standing up in a line of men supported by ropes under their arms. The doss-house owners packed them in, for greater profit, and often the shared warmth of the packed bodies was all that kept the sleepers alive through the cold nights.

>   Tel received a small remittance from his mother every month, supplied on the understanding that he wouldn't try to contact her, or come home. He had made the family name a disgrace, she said, and he had failed to look after his brother Angelo. (He'd always been her favorite.) It had been Tel's refusal to murder his brother on Finn's orders that had brought him low. Tel was aware of the irony, but he didn't have much use for humor these days. His mother's money kept him alive, just. He had to stay alive. There were people he had to be revenged upon.

  Seeing Douglas alive had filled him with new hope. He followed the Campbell from rally to rally, listening to the man speak, and watching the crowds. He needed to be sure Douglas was the real thing. And finally, when he heard the crowd roar at that last great rally, he hugged himself tightly in his rags, and laughed and laughed. He decided it was time to introduce himself. He went to the Lantern Lodge hotel one evening, slipping in through the kitchens because there was no way they'd let the likes of him in through the front door. There were guards posted, but he dodged them easily enough, and sneaked up the back stairs to Douglas's room. And then he hesitated at the door, afraid to knock. He'd fallen so very far from what he once was. And even when they were both men of power and influence, King Douglas had never had much time for the member for Madraguda. How would Douglas react to this shrunken thing of rags and tatters at his door? Tel shuffled his feet uncertainly, raised his hand to knock and then let it fall again. He started to turn away and then the door swung suddenly open, and a large fist grabbed him by the shoulder of his filthy tunic and dragged him inside.

  "Told you I heard someone sneaking about," Stuart said cheerfully. "Probably a spy or informer. Though now I've got him, I'm not sure what to do with him. I just hope my inoculations are still working."

  He thrust Tel forward onto his knees before Douglas, and ostentatiously wiped his hand on his arse to clean it. An unexpected surge of pride brought Tel's head up.

  "I am no spy or informer! Finn has no greater enemy than me! I came here to offer you my services!"

  "Well, thanks very much and all that, but I don't think we need our boots cleaned at the moment," said Nina, wrinkling her nose fastidiously.

  "You don't recognize me," said Tel, his eyes fixed on Douglas. "Hell, I wouldn't know me, looking like this. I'm Tel Markham, once the honorable member for…"

  He broke off as Stuart surged forward and set the edge of a knife against his throat. "Markham!" he spat. "One of Finn's creatures, then and now! Oh, God is good, now and again, delivering our enemies into our hands. Move your boots back, Douglas. You don't want to get blood all over them when I kill him."

  "Wait! Wait!"Tel was so panic-stricken he could hardly breathe, but he kept his gaze locked on Douglas. "I was one of Finn's people, yes. Emphasis on the was. He ordered me to kill my brother Angelo, but I refused, so he turned on me. I had to run here, leaving everything behind, just to save my life. And then he killed Angelo anyway, so it was all for nothing after all. No one in this room has a better cause to hate Finn Durandal than me."

  "Don't put money on it," said Stuart.

  "Why should we trust you?" said Douglas. He seemed genuinely curious.

  "You shouldn't," said Tel, still acutely aware of the knife at his throat. "You shouldn't trust anyone in the Rookery. Finn seeded the whole place with his people long ago. But I know his secrets. I can identify his traitors, tell you of his plans. You only think you know how evil he is. You have no idea of who his allies really are, and the terrible things he intends to do. You need to know what I know. Keep me around. I can be useful. In the end, you'll learn to trust me. I'll advise you, follow you, fight beside you."

  "Why?" said Douglas.

  "Because Finn killed my brother."

  "Ah," said Douglas. "Yes. Family obligations. I know all about those." He nodded to Stuart, who reluctantly took his knife away from Tel's throat.

  Tel rose slowly to his feet, awkwardly conscious of what a ragged and filthy picture he presented. It had been a long time since he could afford to care about his appearance, but he wanted, needed, Douglas to remember him as the man he was, not the creature he'd become.

  Stuart wrinkled his nose. "Damn, Markham, but you stink! And to be that noticeable in a dump like this is something of an achievement. If you're going to spend any time with us, you need to take a bath. Urgently. There's a tin bath on the ground floor. Tell the owner I said you could use it, and that he'd better scour and disinfect it afterwards. Hell, scrub it out yourself! We all have to use the bloody thing. God, sometimes I think I'm only fighting this rebellion for a return to decent plumbing."

  "First things first," said Tel, just a little diffidently. "I belong to the landlord of the Three Cripples. He owns my contract. I can't work for anyone else unless you buy me out. I shouldn't even be here, really, even if it is on what I laughingly refer to as my own time."

  "Slavery's illegal," said Douglas. "Even in the Rookery."

  "Lot you know," said Tel Markham.

  Stuart sighed heavily. "I guess I'd better pay another visit to the Three Cripples."

  "You do that," said Nina. "And I think I'll force open the window while you're gone."

  In the end, both Douglas and Stuart went with Tel to the tavern. Douglas talked to the landlord, and offered the man a fair sum to release Tel from his contract. The landlord, sensing which way the wind was blowing, immediately claimed Tel was utterly irreplacable, and that he couldn't run the tavern without him. He then demanded an utterly unreasonable sum to break the contract. So Douglas knocked him on his arse, right there in front of his customers. Slavery is illegal, he declared loudly. As of right bloody now.

  "You know," said Tel, as they walked out of the tavern, "that isn't going to be a terribly popular sentiment in some parts of the Rookery. The tradition of indentured servitude goes back a long time here."

  "Tough," said Douglas. "My leadership of this rebellion comes with a price, and the price is morality. The Rookery will become better than it was. The people will become strong again. They have to. Because the weak and uncertain won't stand a chance against Finn's fanatics." He looked around at the small but attentive crowd that always appeared when he went out in public. "Wouldn't you all like to feel good about yourselves again?"

  "Don't you condescend to us, aristo!" said a lady of a certain age with too much eye makeup. "We weren't all born to wealth and privilege! We've had to make our own way. We fight Finn for our interests, not yours!"

  "I could shoot her," Stuart said quietly.

  "Don't tempt me," murmured Douglas. He smiled easily about him. "Your interests are my interests, and vice versa. We have a common cause, bound together by need and destiny."

  He bowed courteously to the woman, and walked on. Stuart and Tel followed him. Stuart scowled.

  "What the hell did that mean?"

  "Beats me," said Douglas. "It sounded good, though. When in doubt, baffle them with rhetoric. You know, things were a lot easier when I still had Anne to write my speeches for me. Look, what matters is getting the rebellion started. We can argue about what it's for after we've won."

  "Those sound an awful lot like famous last words to me," said Stuart, and Tel nodded solemnly.

  "I wonder if Owen had these problems," Douglas said wistfully.

  They trudged along, Tel hanging back just a little. He had clean clothes now, and could stand to be downwind of himself at last, but he still didn't feel worthy to walk beside Douglas yet. His pride had been very thoroughly beaten out of him while working at the Three Cripples, and it was slow coming back. He'd spent most of the past few days rehearsing in his mind all that he remembered of Finn's plans and secrets and vulnerabilities. He could name a whole shitload of traitors, double agents and deep-cover sleepers in the Rookery, but he needed more than that to make himself valuable to Douglas. He couldn't afford to be used and then discarded. He needed to attach himself to Douglas, make himself a part of the Campbell's staff, so that when the rebellion was over and Do
uglas returned to power, Tel Markham wouldn't be left behind in the poverty he'd so narrowly escaped. For Tel, Douglas Campbell was a rising star; someone whose coattails he could ride to security, if not glory. He needed to be secure, to launch his revenges.

  "So, where are we going now?" Stuart said. The omnipresent drizzle had become a driving rain. It was always wet and miserable in the Rookery these days. Stuart was pretty sure Finn had arranged it with the weather control people.

  "We are going to the alien sector," said Douglas. "Nina is meeting us there. She's made contact with a very useful alien hybrid called Nikki Sixteen, who claims she can get us an audience with the leaders of the alien presence here in the Rookery."

  Stuart sniffed. "Are there enough of them here to make it worthwhile?"

  "Oh, you'd be surprised at the size of the Rookery's alien contingent," Tel said immediately, seizing the chance to show off his local knowledge. "All kinds of aliens and hybrids end up here, for all sorts of reasons. Either because they're political or religious refugees, or because they've acquired tastes for human pleasures or concepts that wouldn't be tolerated back on their homeworlds. The Rookery has always been a cosmopolitan kind of place, and very tolerant when it comes to unnatural vices. You wouldn't believe what some of these aliens get up to."

  "Yes, I bloody would," said Stuart. "Nothing about this place surprises me anymore."

  "Some of the aliens are remittance people," Tel continued. "Paid to stay away from home and family. Because they backed the wrong cause, or got too friendly with the wrong individuals. Being part of a rebellion to overthrow Finn and his xenophobic allies could go a long way towards buying them a ticket home again. But you're going to have to be very careful, Douglas; all these different species have their own needs and agendas, and they'll only go along with you for as long as your needs coincide with theirs. Right now, all you have in common is a hatred of the Emperor."