Faded Steel Heat

by Glen Cook

  “If you didn’t notice, then it wasn’t something we did that gave us away.” My guess was, he’d just realized that he had a rat in his walls. “Tama. Miss Tate. I want to chat with Mr. Garrett privately. Ed. You and your men step out with the ladies.”

  Ed was the officer who had delivered me. Apparently body-guarding was among his duties. He was scandalized. “Sir, I wouldn’t recommend —”

  “Do it, Ed.”

  Ed stopped arguing.

  Tinnie didn’t want to leave, either. Tama didn’t want to leave. They did not argue. Marengo North English was in charge.

  I chuckled. “You got Ed worried, boss.”

  North English frowned at my familiarity. “Possibly. And that’s my fault. He took the same attitude yesterday, I told him to go away — and I ended up lucky to be alive.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “I told you, I was lucky. Damned lucky. They meant to kill me but a gang of dwarves looking for rightsists to fight popped up and attacked them.”

  “I’m confused,” I confessed. “Maybe you started in the middle. Dwarves saved you? From human attackers? Why would they do that?” It was interesting that terror and pain would put him into such a talkative mood. But why with me?

  “They didn’t recognize me. And the men who attacked me were disguised as members of the movement.”

  “Maybe they were.”

  “Possibly. That’s not a thought I cherish. But I do have rivals. Although I don’t think any of these men were that because I didn’t recognize any of them. Even so, I did want Ed and the others out of here so we could speak freely.”

  “About what?”

  “You must look into what happened while you’re doing whatever else it is that you’re doing. I’m particularly interested in knowing who those men were. I am confident that they were specifically committed to the extinction of Marengo North English and my survival is due only to an ironic twist of fate.”

  “I still feel like we’re going sideways.”

  “I’ll start from the beginning. Last night was a big night for The Call. We’d planned for months. We put it off several times because we thought we could make a bigger splash later. But now we were coming up on the dwarfish New Year. We had to move before all their rustic cousins came to town for the holidays.”

  North English composed his thoughts carefully before he continued. He was much more businesslike than he had been at Weider’s.

  “As you may suspect, like you, I have a taste for toothsome ladies. Not long ago I met someone new and intriguing. She seemed equally interested. Last night presented a perfect opportunity to pursue the possibilities. The Cleansing provided a reason to be away from The Pipes. And there was nothing I could contribute to actual operations short of getting out in the street throwing brickbats with the others.”

  I listened for hints of hypocrisy. I still had trouble picturing Marengo North English as a true believer.

  Maybe the insincerity existed only in my imagination.

  “So you had a date. Rough trade, too, looks like.”

  “I walked into an ambush. I couldn’t have been much stupider. Ed warned me but I wouldn’t listen. It’s the way men get.”

  “Sometimes,” I admitted, having been there.

  “It’s only sheer fool luck that I’m here now.” He snuck a glance to see if I was conscious of the irony.

  I eschewed any observation about fools and drunks. “Are you heading somewhere?”

  “I am. Yes.” Pause. Deep breath. “Eight of the most influential men in the movement were murdered last night. Somebody tried to kill Bondurant Altoona. Burned his house down. But he wasn’t inside.” Did I hear disappointment? “Ladora Ankeny was hurt worse than I was, poor woman. I was attacked, of course. Set up and attacked.”

  “Thought you and old Bondurant didn’t get along.”

  “We don’t. He’s not well liked. We left him out of our plans. But he did hear somehow and left home — to get in the way, if I know the man at all — just before the fires started.”

  Maybe. “Were the attacks coordinated?”

  “I believe they were.”

  “Why?” I meant why did he think that but that wasn’t what he heard.

  “The assassins were all human. I can’t believe that there’s that kind of opposition among our own people. There’re only two kinds of humans.” Eyes calculating, he paused to read my expression. “Those who’re with us and those who’re with us but haven’t yet awakened.”

  You might be surprised, boss. “You know who got killed, right? Who they were could tell you why. What did they have in common?”

  Evidently North English didn’t want to face that question. He had an answer already that didn’t please him.

  “So?” I asked, noting that he was still trying to read me.

  “Everyone attacked was involved in fund-raising. Or made decisions concerning raising funds. I think I might be the only one who could see that connection. So maybe that was why I was targeted.”

  Which offered us both an answer he didn’t want to face — along with a reason why.

  He’d slipped off to meet Belinda, jumping right into a honey trap. And now his ego hurt worse than his body because he feared he’d been set up from the beginning.

  Belinda was her father’s daughter, with extra weapons. She could blind men with their natural weakness. And she had no concept of mercy.

  I said, “If you play on their ground, you obey their law. Only the strong survive. You mess with their money, they kill you. Unless you kill them. They don’t think like kings and generals. Or like you. They don’t send soldiers to attack your soldiers. They’ll kill your men only if they get in the way. They want you. Once you’re dead your soldiers are no longer a problem.”

  That seemed the obvious way to operate, too. I’ve never understood why, when we caught a big-time Venageti wizard or general or noble, we’d always ransom him. Or even just let him go if he promised not to fight anymore.

  I wondered what Belinda would say about last night. Not that I’d ask. I try to separate business and friendship. If a friendship is what we have.

  I told North English, “I’ve known these people a long time. I’m surprised they’ve been as tolerant as they have.”

  That startled Marengo. “Tolerant?”

  “By their standards.”

  “It wasn’t my intent to engage in criminal activities, Mr. Garrett. I’m the most visible Call leader but not the only one. Not even the supreme one. Other groups started raising money that way a long time ago. I opposed the plan when the Council proposed it. I reminded them that The Call wasn’t founded as a criminal conspiracy. I reminded them that one of our missions is to set an example. We can’t cut corners because our cause is just. If we do, we’re no better than the Other Races. And it sets a precedent we’ll pay for later.”

  The man was heated up for a speech. Maybe he was a true believer. I cut him off. “Looks to me like you’ve got a good counterargument now.”

  “Possibly. But I doubt it.” He paused. I had nothing to say so that’s what I said. He continued, “It’s all out of control, Garrett. It’s like riding a lion. The beast answers the reins if the mood takes it. And the gods help me if I try to get off.” And again with the calculating look.

  “What do you want from me? Looks like the Outfit sent a message. Emphatically. You were lucky. You survived it. They’ll let you alone if it looks like it took. I say don’t aggravate them. Chodo is way less friendly than Belinda.”

  “Did she set me up?”

  “Probably.” My guess was, Belinda just thought on her feet and improvised. “Maybe that was why she wanted to meet you.”

  His pride was bruised more deeply than his flesh. Marengo North English thought well of himself. What kind of world was it where a woman could use him as knife fodder? “You know Belinda. Talk to her.”

  Was he going to whine? “If you’ve checked me out, you know I know Chodo better than I know Belinda.�
� Unless she’d developed a true-confession habit.

  North English smiled enigmatically. Maybe he knew more than I thought he could. He winced, closed his eyes. His wounds still hurt badly.

  79

  “What actually happened last night?” I asked North English, after we took time for him to rest and take a painkiller.

  “I’d arranged to meet Belinda at a rooming house on the far north side. She said the place belonged to her family.”

  “Remember the name of the street?”

  “I don’t. That was the driver’s responsibility.” When I frowned, he said, “I don’t think it had one.” He colored slightly.

  “You went into an elven neighborhood?” Elves don’t get excited about frills like street names or house numbers.

  “Just the edge. Nobody would expect to find me there.”

  “No. But somebody did.”

  “Yes.” North English proceeded to describe the attack on his coach, which occurred soon after it entered that street. It mimicked the attack on Belinda’s coach.

  Was that coincidence?

  Quite possibly he’d had an earlier close call and didn’t yet realize it. Belinda had asked him to meet her at The Palms. And CeeJay Carlyle had been with Belinda when she headed for her postparty rendezvous. Did Crask and Sadler mess everything up?

  I asked, “Should I talk to your coachman?”

  “If you know a good necromancer, you might. I’m the only survivor. They didn’t get me dragged out of the coach fast enough.”

  There’d be no way of double-checking details short of consulting the men who had tried to kill him. I had a suspicion that was a long-shot daydream.

  The details didn’t matter. Had to be Belinda’s doing. And Marengo knew that. But I wondered if she might not have had more than one motive.

  Her attack had been extremely vigorous, even for her. If, indeed, she had ordered the attack. It risked warfare now and persecution later if The Call enjoyed any enduring political success.

  She must’ve decided that the Outfit had to make a clear, definitive statement incapable of being misunderstood by anybody. Which might mean she hadn’t just been responding to business encroachments.

  Just suppose Marengo had had some remote connection with the attack on Belinda...

  I decided that he must have had. Based upon no evidence whatsoever.

  Poor Marengo! That made him a zombie, dead but still walking toward the knife.

  Somebody had brought Crask and Sadler back. Those two were fearless but they weren’t stupid and were only marginally crazy. They knew lots of people wanted to carve them up.

  They must have been sure they could do their work quick and dirty and profitably and be gone before death could pick up their trail.

  So somehow North English got word to them when Belinda showed up with me, cleverly grasping the moment. He might not have known that those two thought they owed me. But would he have cared?

  I didn’t think so, either.

  Then Belinda made a date, probably hoping to let North English meet Carlyle for an exercise in comparative knife techniques. And North English agreed, probably thinking he’d have fun with Belinda if his hitters missed.

  No proof. None whatsoever. All speculation. But I thought the Dead Man would agree. And he’d looked inside Belinda’s head, where the snakes and spiders lurk.

  I can conclusion-hop with the best. I’ve run with villains for years, people who play those kinds of games. You can smell them out if you know the stakes and luck onto a few hints up front.

  These scenarios fit the facts neatly.

  They didn’t toss light into the shadows surrounding the shapeshifters and the Weiders, though. They gave me no mention whether or not The Call was trying to strong-arm the Weiders, or was connected to the shapeshifters somehow.

  Damn it. The one thing I’d figured out didn’t help much. Belinda and The Call could work out their differences, with bloody steel or rattling jaws. That wouldn’t touch me.

  Belinda might have let the nonhumans know about the advent of the Cleansing. The Outfit had tentacles reaching inside shadows Relway only dreamed of penetrating. Everybody owes them something, somewhere, somehow. Though in this case Marengo was, probably, the leak himself.

  I asked, “Any way you can bully your council into backing off?”

  “Backing off?” He got that air of struggling to concentrate again.

  “To quit trying to horn in on the rackets.”

  “I can try. If I had a good reason. If they’re really doing that.”

  “How about staying alive? Is that a good reason?”

  “They wouldn’t do anything just on my say-so, Garrett. Again, if they’re really involved.”

  Why did he keep pretending? “Here’s a reason they can understand. If you get in a war with the Outfit, it won’t just be Marengo North English who gets dead. They can get to anybody. Eventually. They’ll find somebody close willing to be corrupted. They won’t be impressed by who you are, who your parents were, how much you’re worth, or who you know. You should’ve gotten that message last night.”

  “Last night is why I hope you’ll find us a basis for negotiation.”

  I was puzzled. It showed.

  “What?” North English demanded.

  “What’s to negotiate? They’ll tell you to go away or get dead. Then they’ll kill as many of you as it takes to make you understand.”

  I exaggerated a little. The Outfit is no monolith and the people inside are as venal as any other. It could be tamed by somebody who wanted to focus a lot of energy and resources. Somebody like Relway, someday, when he doesn’t have to deal with all the other distractions.

  Assuming Belinda didn’t get to him first.

  “Why go for the rackets, anyway?” I asked. “The Call is festering with rich people.”

  “Not many of whom want to open their purses for the Cause. They’re investing their leadership skills.” Yes, he was sarcastic. And bitter. “I’ve financed almost everything. I’ve fed and armed and clothed a thousand men for Colonel Theverly. Before Theverly it was the Brotherhood Of The Wolf.”

  “What became of those guys?” I still wanted to figure out where Gerris Genord fit.

  “They wouldn’t be controlled. They were disbanded when Colonel Theverly came aboard. Some joined the new corps. The hardheads dropped out, went somewhere else.” North English waved a hand weakly, dismissing the Brotherhood. It was old news. He had a hobbyhorse to ride. “Do you have any idea how much weapons cost when you have to buy them from dwarves?”

  Wouldn’t it be something if the dwarves used this crisis to strip humans of their wealth?

  Wouldn’t it be something if the dwarfish weapons were used to exterminate the dwarfish race?

  Life gets funny that way.

  I grunted. He could take that as thoughtful commiseration if he wanted.

  He changed the subject. “Have you found anything in the library?”

  “No. And I really hoped I could root out something about shapeshifters. That bunch at Weider’s were part of something big. If I can learn more about the race I might be able to guess what.”

  North English didn’t get excited. “Tama says you’re sorting as you go. I appreciate that. I know gathering information and studying it is important but somehow we just never get around to the library. How did you know about it?”

  “I went to the Royal Library. They said I’d do better here or in some wizard’s private library. I don’t know any friendly wizards.”

  “Does anybody?”

  “You kidding?” But he was talking to himself, bitterly. Maybe he had had an unhappy experience.

  I must have risen in his consideration. He was treating me like an old retainer now. Almost with respect. But with cautious lack of trust.

  “Did you have a problem with one of our sorcerers?” Wouldn’t exactly be unique if he had.

  North English realized he had given something away. He didn’t like that. “Didn�
��t everyone who visited the Cantard?” Quick shift of subject. “Tama overstepped herself by allowing you into the library without consulting me but it was a good idea. Let me know if you find anything interesting. Max Weider is my friend, too.”

  I was dismissed. He accentuated the point by closing his eyes. He wanted to rest. He wanted to think, to conjure some way he could take his special breed of liberty to TunFaire with better effect.

  I left the room.

  I found a crowd outside, frowns prevalent, everybody afraid they’d missed something important. Lost in thought, I ignored them.

  Marengo had a connection with a wizard? Should that surprise me? He was a powerful man. Wizards prefer the company of powerful men to that of slobs like me. Why? I can be charming.

  Did it even matter?

  80

  Tinnie and Tama eyed me expectantly. I told Tama, “He’ll live. And he’s in a more charitable mood than I’d have thought. It must have been love at first sight, Tinnie. He wants to adopt you. Offered me three shiny new groats if he could have you for a niece.”

  “That’s not funny, Garrett.”

  “That’s what I told him. I said you don’t have any sense of humor. He said, ‘Just wait till I tickle her fancy.’”

  Tinnie snapped, “Why’re you laughing, Tama?”

  “I’m trying to visualize those words coming out of Marengo’s mouth. It isn’t a pretty picture.”

  I said, “He told me to go ahead with the library. And let him know if we found anything.”

  Tama said, “Since you have his blessing, you and the niece-apparent go to it. I have work to do.” Tama pushed through the crowd. Even mistresses have responsibilities. Freecorps officers continued to gather. Maybe they were worried they might have to look for work.

  Tama did what none of them dared. She entered Marengo’s sanctuary.

  Tinnie murmured, “I don’t know what to make of that relationship. Most of the time she acts like she doesn’t care.”

  “She can’t afford to, too much,” I said. “And she probably wonders about you and me, too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That I don’t understand, either, but my New Year’s resolution was to stop trying to figure out relationships. I’ll deal with what people show me.”