by Glen Cook
"To look into Vlazos' safety chest. Afterward, we'll visit Rubios' City house. Belledon said he ordered everything left as it was found."
"What's he going to do about Polybos House?"
"Call him in for a conference and surprise him with a set of chains. We get first crack at him."
"What was that?" They were near the Treasury vault, deep in the living stone of the Rock. The hallways were nests of shadows.
Rider saw nothing, but trusted Su-Cha's senses. He took hold of the web, probed. "Something ... The thing that murdered Odehnal. It's gone now. Evidently just spying."
"You'd better be quick. He might have gone for help."
"He probably did." Rider lengthened his stride. "Keep watch."
Two old pensioners guarded the vault. They knew Rider. He had a Treasury secure chest of his own. He gave them a sealed order from Belledon. Half the security of the vault arose from the fact that only the vault attendants themselves could distinguish between the thousands of identical chests. They argued. Not even the King, they said, could authorize ...
Rider waved a hand. They fell silent. "Show me the box," he commanded.
The elder turned, led the way. The other remained on guard, occasionally shaking his head puzzledly. Su-Cha vanished into the shadows outside.
Rider's guide indicated a chest indistinguishable from a hundred others. Rider tried the Vlazos key. The chest opened immediately.
"Ah." Several bound ledgers lay inside the chest, with one packet of letters tied together with a red ribbon. Rider opened a ledger at random.
Names. Dates. Places. Minutes of topics discussed.
"This is what I came for." He took ledgers and letters and headed for the door.
Su-Cha sent warning by tugging at the web.
Rider cast a small spell which set shadows dancing like a madman's dream. Those who lurked outside became disoriented. They called to one another in confusion.
A second spell sent shadows playing over Rider's own body. He entered the chaos in the hallway—and seemed to disappear.
Su-Cha, meantime, shifted form. He grew into something huge and ugly, a nightmare beast with eight-inch fangs and a disposition so foul fire bubbled from his nostrils. He jumped at a man. "Boo!"
Panic added its mad whip to the confusion.
The two old guards came to investigate. Su-Cha frightened them too. He giggled, then took off after Rider.
"Names, dates, places, and plans," Rider told the others. The contents of Vlazos' chest lay scattered across the library table. "A meticulous man, our Vlazos. He kept records of everything."
"When do we round them up?" Chaz asked.
"We'll let Belledon have the credit for that," Rider said. "We're going to KentanRubios' house."
"Let Belledon do it? When you can't trust anyone anymore?"
Rider tapped the ledgers. "He'll have these to go by."
"But they know about them. Else why would a bunch of them have been down at the vault?"
"Maybe we'll see the rats scatter," Su-Cha said. "Rider, you think Belledon will grab Polybos House? Because we still got to figure out about the Devil's Eyes."
"Things are going to get crazy, we'd better see about Spud and Soup, too," Chaz said. "Shai Khe might kill them out of spite."
"I don't think he's the petty sort," Rider said. "Still, he can't keep a close rein on all his henchmen. We'll go first time things slow down."
Chaz jerked his head to indicate Caracene. "What about her?"
"We can't have her running off, can we? She knows what we know. I'll set the doors and window so they can't be opened from inside or out ... What's that?"
"Somebody pounding on the door."
Rider strode into the laboratory. Chaz ducked into the contraption of mirrors. "It's all right," Rider said, after peering through the peeping device. "One of the King's men." He opened the door.
Chaz was determined to trust no one. Likewise, Su-Cha, who had secreted himself behind a rack of glassware.
Even Preacher and Greystone, in the library, had drawn weapons.
The King's man did not enter. Breathlessly, he said, "His Majesty has taken the prisoner. But people from the Shadows are clamoring to talk to him. His Majesty suggests you take custody."
Inside his hiding place, Chaz snorted derisively.
Rider replied, "I'll do that. But not right away. Tell him he might reduce the clamor by giving the Shadows an assignment. Chaz. Get me those ledgers."
When Chaz returned with the books, Rider told the messenger, "His Majesty should find these very interesting. They should tell him what to do till I can get to him."
The messenger accepted the load with ill grace, departed.
"You think he's going to be safe, walking around with those?" Chaz asked.
Rider, concentrating, raised a hand that asked for silence. He wove mystic patterns with his fingers, clapped his hands. "That should do it."
"Do what?"
"Fix him so people won't notice him."
"You made him invisible?"
"That would have been too difficult and too time-consuming. No. He'll just not seem worth paying attention to."
"What now?"
"Now we go see how KentanRubios died."
Rider had his associates assemble certain equipment. Five minutes later, they left. Chaz stalled outside the laboratory door. Suddenly, he grinned. "She's not that anxious to stay after all."
Someone was trying to get the door open.
"It's your overpowering charm," Preacher said. "She can't stand to be parted from you."
Chaz looked hurt. "Hey! I maybe got to take that from the runt, here, but from you I don't ... "
Su-Cha cackled. "You bring it on yourself."
"We don't have all day," Greystone observed from down the hallway.
They hurried to catch up.
Greystone asked Rider, "How long before Shai Khe hears Polybos House is incommunicado and gets suspicious? He hasn't been reluctant to shed potential embarrassments."
"I've been wondering myself. Especially since the appearance of those men near the vaults." Rider ordered chariots brought for them. "We suffer the disadvantage of all defenders. We don't know where or when the enemy will strike next."
Greystone observed, "A closer study of those ledgers might yield a few hints."
Chaz snorted. "How?"
"They not only tell who is part of the conspiracy, by omission they tell us who isn't. Among those who aren't named we'll find the men Shai Khe will want to remove."
"True," Rider agreed. "And we'll look at that angle. But more, we need to strike back. We need to get on his tail and stick. To keep him moving. To take away his time to plan murders."
A black wreath decorated the gate to KentanRubios' Balajka estate. It was the only outward show of tragedy's having struck. A gateman let them into the grounds. Rider stared around narrowly. "Su-Cha, you and Chaz look for traces left by an uninvited guest. Greystone, Preacher, stay with me."
Su-Cha and Chaz dismounted. Servants moved the chariots aside and began caring for the horses. Su-Cha began walking the base of the estate wall, sniffing. Chaz followed, looking bored, pestering the imp with unpleasant remarks. There was little else he could contribute.
A footman led them to the atrium, where a household servant met them and said, "Doctor Recer has remained with the Lord. I fear he has grown impatient. We all expected you sooner."
"We had hoped to arrive sooner," Rider said, and extended gracious apologies. "Our enemies kept us busy. I'll smooth the doctor's feathers."
The body lay on a couch in a library. The doctor and a woman of the household staff were waiting nearby. After extended apologies and social amenities, Rider said, "Describe the circumstances surrounding the death."
Greystone and Preacher began prowling the bookshelves, the former making little sounds of awe whenever he spotted a tome he especially coveted.
The woman replied, "The Lord had closed himself in here, leaving ins
tructions that he was not to be bothered. At about the tenth hour he cried out. Several of us went to the door, but found it locked. He cried out again. 'Keep away, shadow,' we think he said. When the men broke the lock they found him sprawled on the floor."
Rider was standing before a window, watching Su-Cha and Chaz while he listened. Now he interrupted. "On the floor? I was assured nothing would be disturbed."
Doctor Recer said, "There is no evidence that he died of aught but natural causes. His position was undignified."
Rider interrupted, speaking to the woman. "This window is locked. Was that his custom?"
"Yes, sir. It was. When he was working on something important."
"Yet he shouted at someone or something." Outside, Su-Cha's gestures, as he spoke to Chaz, indicated that he had found the point where something had crossed the wall.
"Rider?" Greystone said. "Look here."
The scholar was kneeling beside the room's one anomaly, an overturned chair. He pointed. A splinter of leg was split loose. Grey-brown hairs were caught there.
Rider squatted, considered, grunted. Then he went to the fireplace, in which no fire had been laid. Soot speckled clean firebrick. To the doctor, he said, "Examine him again. Look for a puncture such as might have been made by a pin." He continued to examine the fireplace. Inside, caught on a brick, he found another hair.
"Well?" Greystone asked.
"I think it was the same thing that killed Odehnal. It must be very agile and fairly intelligent."
Preacher looked up the chimney. "Skinny, too. This is a tight fit."
The doctor loosed a soft explosion of breath.
"You found it?"
"Yes." Recer indicated a tiny purple bruise centered by a pinhead scab on the corpse's hip. "Not that it's especially noteworthy. The man had a history of heart problems."
"Yes." Rider cut off the excuses, turned to the woman. "Is anything missing?"
She shrugged. "We were not permitted to come in here."
In minutes Rider knew her for a well gone dry. KentanRubios had been a secretive man.
Su-Cha blew in bubbling with his news. Rider indicated the hairs snagged on the chair leg. "Can you get enough from that to trail the creature?"
Su-Cha snuffled while Chaz made rude remarks.
The imp grinned. "Got it. A close thing, too. Any imp but me couldn't have managed it." He hustled out the door. Chaz grumbled in his wake.
Rider told the doctor, "We're finished. You can remove the body now."
"Don't you want to interview the rest of the staff?" "That won't be necessary. Tell His Majesty his suspicions were well-founded. That we are on the trail of the killer. Greystone. Preacher. Come."
XIX
Rider overtook Su-Cha a block up the street. The imp looked crestfallen. "It boarded a vehicle here."
Rider was not surprised. "A closed coach, I'm sure. It would have spent some time waiting."
Chaz caught on before Su-Cha did. He guffawed.
Preacher observed, "Horses are as full of offal as the Lord is with mercy, and have no more sense of propriety than a northern barbarian."
Chaz shut up. He glared at Preacher, not quite sure what had happened.
Su-Cha scowled but contained his pride. He sought the trail of the horses.
Greystone, ever attentive to detail, observed, "We're being watched. That man yonder picked us up at the gate."
Chaz glared at the loiterer, who was having trouble looking like part of the landscape. His sort did not belong on the Balajka hill. "Want me to grab him, Rider?"
"Later, perhaps. Keep an eye on him. And keep another out for somebody watching him. Su-Cha. Can you track the horses or not?"
"Yes." The imp's reply was curt. His expression dared disparaging remarks.
"Head in the right general direction but don't follow them exactly," Rider said.
"Eh? Why?"
"Our nervous friend may be there to see if we can pick up the trail. We don't want him to run off and set up an ambush."
"Let's ambush him," Chaz urged. His blood was up. He was sick of being frustrated. He wanted to smack somebody around.
"We will," Rider said, his thoughts and plans shifting momentarily. "Once we know if he's being watched in his turn."
Chaz chuckled wickedly.
They walked a block past where Su-Cha said the assassin had turned. Rider said, "We'll go this way," and turned the opposite direction. That put them round the corner of a wall, out of view of the man who followed.
Rider reached into the web and drew power, hastily spun images of himself and Su-Cha. He did not have time to weave them well. In ten minutes they would begin floating between steps and leaking light through their bodies.
Rider swarmed up the wall, Su-Cha at his heels. From the wall's top, Rider said, "Lead him along. Work your way back to the chariots. Lose him, then take the way Su-Cha pointed out," all in a rush. The web told him the watcher was nearby.
Tentative footsteps rounded the corner. Rider peeked carefully. The man seemed satisfied he was on the right track.
Rider reached into the web, seeking a watcher of the watcher. He found one quickly. "Another one coming," he breathed.
This man's steps indicated great self-confidence. Rider let him pass, raised his head carefully. A man of Shai Khe's race. He murmured, "Mark him carefully, Su-Cha. If we lose the horses we can follow him."
"Rider."
Su-Cha's tone said they had trouble. Rider shifted and looked.
A night gardener squatted among moon poppies, milk pot and milking fork in hand, gaping at them. He did not seem inclined to cause a fuss. Maybe he thought he'd caught an inadvertent whiff of pollen.
The oriental tracker's attention was directed in front of himself. Rider cast a small glamor that left the gardener shaking. He would be sure he had breathed pollen.
"He's out of sight," Su-Cha said. "Let's go."
Rider jumped down. Su-Cha floated. They trotted into the street down which the assassin had departed his handiwork. Rider left a small chalk mark at each crossway, to indicate which direction he had gone.
The trail departed the Balajka district and its quiet, almost untenanted streets, dipping into an area occupied by merchants, tending downhill toward the Golden Crescent. The quality of their surroundings deteriorated. The farther they descended, the busier the night became, despite the hour.
Rider slowed the pace. He kept a greater part of his attention in the web, observing his surroundings. Su-Cha he charged with using his preternaturally sharp eyes and nose. In crowds like these it would be hard to spot Shai Khe's confederates. Dawn found them very near the waterfront, in a warehouse district. The assassin had travelled a long way.
XX
Pure good luck attended Spud and Soup. They slipped a boat away unnoticed, caught a brisk breeze, made a landfall not a half mile from a legionary encampment. The prefect of the camp was a friend of Rider and Jehrke. Within an hour they were crossing the Bridge of the World aboard the legion's courier airship. First light was just starting to limn the City when they stepped down into the jungle of the military yards.
Though they were as far from the exit gate as they could get, they grinned at one another and set off jauntily. Spud whistled as he walked.
Minutes later Spud's tune died behind Soup's hand. Both ducked into shadows.
Soft voices approached. They saw men moving quickly, cautiously, probing shadows with shielded lights, arguing.
"Those knobbly guys again," Spud said. "What're they doing here?"
"Right now they're looking for a whistler."
Spud reddened. "Let's get them."
"I admire your confidence. Nevertheless, the odds aren't exciting for one of my delicate sensibilities." There were six gnarly men, none of whom were completely alert. They were going through the motions of a search, complaining.
"Let's even them up, then." Spud vanished, moving with feline silence.
Soup sighed. Spud was in one of his moo
ds. He would not give it up till he bashed a few heads. Or got bashed himself. Soup retreated the way he had come. Twenty feet back, he kicked a wooden support away from an airship cradle still under construction. He ducked behind the cradle.
The noise brought the gnarly men his way.
Spud stepped out behind the last and smacked his head with a board. He jumped back into shadow.
Gnarly men chattered at one another. Knives came out. Lights probed shadows diligently.
Soup took his turn crowning a man. When the gnarly men turned to rush him, Spud struck again.
Then Rider's men waded in. Confused, howling, the gnarly men panicked. They fled into striped shadows. The yards resembled a boneyard populated by the skeletons of monsters more vast than any leviathan of the deep. The dawn itself was as bloody as a newly mown army.
Soup and Spud skidded to a halt, dove into cover. The gnarly men had joined a young regiment working around a monster of an air warship from the eastern fleet. Soup sputtered, "They're trying to steal that airship!"
Chaos spread as the fugitives reported.
Spud observed, "Some big payoffs must have been made to let that many men sneak in here." An entire cohort guarded the military yards.
"Couldn't be all of them, though," Soup observed.
"No. Just a few officers and noncoms. A big enough racket ought to get the rest out here."
"What're you going to do? Howl like a mad dog?"
The how did present a problem. They had come out of captivity with nothing but their clothing.
"Better think of something fast," Soup said. "They're not going to wait around." The would-be airship thieves were organizing a counterstroke.
Soup found himself talking to empty air.
He found Spud searching the apparel of a fallen gnarly man. "Aha. Here we go. Now something flammable."
Soup thought he got the idea. He also thought it was too dangerous. If the tire got out of hand the whole yard could go. Nevertheless, he collected a pair of dropped lanterns. One still burned. He tuned it up high, whirled like a hammer thrower in the athletic games, arced it toward the gas bladders.
"What are you, crazy?"
Soup glared. What did Spud want? He collected another lantern. "Light this." Spud had taken a spark-striker from the gnarly man he had plundered.