Fever Season

by C. J. Cherryh

  "You must be damned good at what you do," Raj observed, "or Revenantist or not, he wouldn't be backing you. And as for conversion—" He made a quick gesture with his unhurt right hand. "I don't think you're really a Revenantist, for all you say, or you wouldn't have charged into that slip to rescue Denny." The black eyes hardened. "You ever see any of those thugs before?"

  "No. Probably some gang. Lord knows there are enough of them canalside. Prey on anything weaker than them that won't fight back."

  Raj stared a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Bit off more than they could chew when you showed up." He laughed coldly, a sound strangely old and cynical coming from one of his comparative youth. "Found themselves a Revenantist who's not afraid to get involved."

  "Huhn." Justice sought his beer, found the mug near empty and considered ordering another. What was one more pennybit? This meal was far cheaper than what he got at Hilda's, though it stood as proof of the old adage that you get what you pay for. "I guess I'm not Revenantist at heart," he admitted softly, "but I did have to convert."

  "So can I," Raj said, the earnest look back on his face. "Look, Justice ... I can pay you for this. I can pay your patron for his attention." He gestured at the packet Justice had laid aside. "That's a cure for the sickness that's running through town. Trust me ... it works. I have access to more, and I can keep you supplied with it. You can pass some along to your patron. All I ask in return is that you speak to him. Tell him you've found another convert. That ought to interest him."

  Justice raised his mug and waved it at the waiter. Pennybit be damned, he was having another beer. He looked back at Raj and pointed to the packet. "What's in there, exactly?"

  "Herbs, mainly," Raj said. "Keeps the fever down and dries up your head and lungs. I've got it divided up into doses. Don't take more than one, or you'll be floating."

  "And not give a damn how bad you feel." Justice grinned. "All right, Raj, I'll take the stuff. You mix it with tea?"

  Raj nodded. "And sugar it. Tastes vile as lagoon water."

  The waiter threaded his way to their table through the crowd, set the new mug on the table and went off with the old one, along with Justice's pennybit. Justice looked at Raj: the young man sitting across from him had all the earmarks of becoming a friend. He seemed smart, capable and desirous of making more of himself. Now, if he was as good a street doctor as he thought he was, he would have little trouble convincing the College of his potential.

  Justice laughed. Perhaps it was the beer, but he felt a damned sight better than earlier in the day. "I'll talk to Father Rhajmurti I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

  "That's all I can ask for," Raj said. "It's a hell of a lot more than I could ever get on my own."

  "Where are you living in case I have to get in touch with you?"

  There was a slight hesitation. "Fife," Raj said in a very quiet voice, after having looked carefully around the room. "Two doors down from Fife Small Boat Repair under the studio."

  Trust given—trust returned. "I'm on the backside of second level Kass, in a boarding house behind Hilda's Tavern."

  "Long ways off," Raj observed. "My brother and I work at Gallandry's: he's a runner, and I help doing their accounts. If you need to find me, try there… it's closest."

  "It's a deal." Justice motioned toward the packet of herbs. "How many doses in there?"

  "Enough to get you through the fever… more than enough for you since you haven't really got it yet." Raj leaned forward on the table again. "I'll try to stop by Hilda's day after tomorrow with more packets."

  "When?"

  Raj's face clouded—the dark eyes became opaque. "Hard to tell. Sometimes difficult to get away. What's your schedule?"

  "Midterm exams will be starting. I'll be studying, so I should be free most of the time."

  "I'll try to be there." Raj looked up at the door, around the tavern at the boisterous diners; he drew a deep breath, shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. "I've got to get back to Gallandry's, or they'll think I got dumped in the canal."

  Justice stood. "Come on over to Hilda's after work," he said. "We can have a beer or two."

  Something dark and haunted slipped across Raj's face again, but the black eyes were still open and honest. "Can't. Got something I have to do."

  Justice knew enough not to pry. "Sometime else, then."

  Raj nodded and led the way toward the door. Looking quickly left and right, he led the way into the twilight of canalside.

  "See that you take care of that brother of yours," Justice said. "Warn him against getting trapped in dark cuts."

  "Ha! I can warn Denny all I want, but he'll listen only when he wants to." Raj glanced around, then gripped Justice's arm with his good hand. "And take my advice, Justice… keep to well-lit walkways."

  With that, the young man trotted off into the semi-darkness, headed for the stairs to second level Spellbridge. Thrown into a darker mood, Justice followed.

  He saw nothing wrong with speaking to Rhajmurti about Raj attending the College, and nothing wrong about promising a new convert. If he and Raj were alike, Justice knew Raj would learn all the creeds, the rituals, the proper words, and still keep on being an Adventist.

  But there was something hidden about Raj… something Justice could not guess at. From Raj's speech pattern, he was a hightowner, but a hightowner who had fallen on bleak times. And from Nev Hettek? That fact complicated already complicated impressions Justice had received from Raj.

  And the way Raj had acted: furtive, anxious… jumpy hardly defined the young man's reactions to his surroundings. His parting words—keep to well-lit walkways—made sense, but Justice sensed a warning in those words, not just prudent advice. A momentary tightening of his heart. Damn! I could be getting myself into something here… something I might not like.

  He shrugged, started off toward the stairs, the packet of herbs carried carefully in one hand.

  Twilight was not far off, and Raj increased his pace as he crossed second level Spellman Bridge over to Sofia. Traffic was still heavy—people going home after work, going to taverns, or picking up last minute essentials for the evening— but soon the crowds would disperse from the bridges and walkways. After dark, travel afoot became dangerous, if not deadly.

  After his lunch with Justice, Raj had found himself a dark nook in North-Spellbridge's pilings, tucked up and hid out. Waiting. With the papers underneath his shirt.

  Now he had to try it. All the way to Boregy. As he walked, Raj felt his heart thumping behind his ribs, the heightened state of alertness brought on by a heavy adrenalin flow. Though he did not know the contents of the papers he carried, he did know that lives rode on those papers… Mondragon's, Jones', Denny's, his… and God knew how many others'.

  Raj jogged left on the second-tier Sofia walkway, headed toward Sofia-Bucher.

  It was just before he crossed onto the bridge that Raj knew himself followed

  Instinct? Perhaps; or a skill he had picked up in his youth, a skill that had served him well in the swamp. If pushed to it, Raj might have turned around and pointed to the men who trailed him. Two… thank the Ancestors there were only two.

  Keeping in the mainstream of traffic, his eyes flicking from side to side as he walked, Raj again increased his pace. His only hope was to outdistance his pursuers until he reached Boregy, and the comparative safety of the House. What happened after he made the delivery he left for the future—he had enough problems in the present to think all that far ahead.

  Raj trotted through the crowds the shortest way around Bucher, headed toward White. From White, it was a straight shot up to Boregy. Provided he made it without being stopped.

  A woman carrying a packet of freshly caught fish collided with him. In one motion, Raj bent down, caught up her package, and handed it back to her as he trotted on. Damn! The two men following him were still there, persistent as a cat after cream.

  Lord and Ancestors! Are they after me or do they know I'm connected with Mondrag
on? Raj resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, and hoped for heavier traffic on White.

  His shod feet joined the hollow thuds made by the the other people around him as Raj crossed the bridge over to White. He made to turn to his right, to take the straight way around to the White-Boregy Bridge.

  Two more men loitered on the walkway before him, out of place in the hurrying crowd. Faces he had seen once this day.

  Raj cursed, did an about-face, nearly knocking over a man and woman. Damn! Damn! They're blocking the way to Boregy. His eyes scanned the people around him, alert for other suspicious figures.

  Now he was headed the wrong way on White, toward Junction Bridge that spanned the Grand, the Signeury on one hand and Borg on the other. Raj considered his options. Safety ... he had to get to some place where he could hide out.

  The second bridge on Borg's south side led to Cantry; he need only make it across diNero to Gallandry's. Once there, he would have to answer innumerable questions, but the grilling would be small price to pay.

  Raj was trotting so fast now, he was near a lope. A quick glance behind: the two men who had started following him on Bucher had joined the two loiterers who had blocked his way on White. Raj cursed again and kept his eyes forward. The twilight was deepening around him.

  He dodged left and onto the Cantry Bridge, aware that he was now quite visible as he loped along through the lessening crowd. The shadows of the bridge might hide his face from passers-by, make his Oriental features hard to recall. He glanced ahead toward the Cantry-diNero Bridge.

  Two more men stood by the edge of the bridge, equally as sinister looking as the four who followed.

  Sweat chilled Raj's forehead: his armpits were already slick. The way across diNero to Gallandry's was blocked, and he had four men coming straight at his back.

  The only escape was the Cantry-French Bridge, and that led him off from any protection he might have sought. He considered going canalside but gave that idea up, imagining more men intent on stopping him waiting below. Where could he go? French led to Bent, and Bent led to—

  Justice! Bent led to Kass and Justice had given his address as Hilda's boarding house which lay on the back side of Kass. Raj cursed as he darted aside onto the Cantry-French Bridge. Seeking refuge with Justice was something he would never have considered if he had anywhere else to go.

  He did not. There was no choice. Besides, the traffic around Kass and the other islands known for their student population would be heavier than elsewhere.

  Heedless of the attention he drew, Raj ran through the crowds on French, seeking to lose himself from sight of his pursuers. Sidestepping a fellow homeward bound from market, Raj crossed the bridge to Bent. He still sensed the men who chased him behind, but not as close as before. A small hope flared in his heart—perhaps he could outdistance them after all.

  Feet pounding on the wooden bridge, Raj crossed from Bent over to Kass. Hilda's Tavern. He had never been there before, but he knew where it was. Luck, for the first time since he had left Spellbridge, seemed to be with Raj: the Kass walkway was full of students. He slowed his pace a bit, darted in and out between them, his eyes fixed ahead, searching for Hilda's sign.

  There! Hilda's lay only a short way ahead. Raj took one last glance over his shoulder, and this time he did not see the men who followed. Certain now that he had momentarily lost his pursuers, Raj brushed aside two students, offering hasty apologies, and entered the tavern.

  To stand panting in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the lamplight. He looked from table to table, seeking the only face he was sure he would recognize. Few people had looked up when he entered… another stroke of unforeseen luck. A surge of panic started to well up in Raj's heart. What if Justice was not here? If the men who followed were persistent (and having chased him across half of Merovingen they must be) they would search any public place they could find.

  Then, from across the room, Raj saw Justice lift his head and stare. Murmuring a prayer of thanks to whoever had guided him here, Raj took a deep breath, tried to assume a normal expression, and walked across the crowded room to where Justice sat.

  Justice met Raj's eyes across the room and sat up straighter, awakening Sunny who had been asleep on his lap. Gone was the young man he had eaten lunch with—now the black eyes looked haunted in a face unnaturally pale.

  "Raj," he said softly, indicating the chair next to him and waiting until Raj had sat down. "What brings you here? I thought you had something to do tonight."

  Raj licked his lips. "I did. I—Justice, can we go to your room. I need to talk to you."

  A chill ran up Justice's spine, a feeling he tried to ignore. "Sure. Have a beer first?"

  "Now, Justice," Raj said, and darted a glance toward the doorway leading outside. "Please."

  Justice lifted one eyebrow, nodded, and lifted the sleepy cat from his lap. Standing, he gestured for Raj to follow, and started off to the door that led back to the boarding house.

  "I haven't made you miss dinner, have I?" Raj asked at his elbow.

  Out of place, that comment, from a person so obviously upset, unless Raj was trying to cover his unease, and confuse anyone who might overhear. "No. I usually don't eat until later." Justice walked down the hall, turned left at an alcove, and—juggling Sunny on one arm—slipped his key into the lock. "Come on in, Raj."

  Justice went first, knowing the way, and lit a large lantern. The room was small; against one wall stood Justice's narrow bed, cluttered with books and papers, an old wooden standing closet at one end. The table across the room was heaped high with sketches and drawings nearing completion. Other artwork hung on the walls, some pen and ink, and some oils. Justice pointed Raj toward the chair in front of the table, shut the door, threw the lock, and sat down on the bed. Sunny yawned, jumped down from Justice's arm and curled up on the pillow, determined to finish his nap.

  "What's the matter, Raj?" Justice asked, leaning back on his elbows.

  Raj swallowed. "I was supposed to take some papers somewhere for a friend of mine who's ill. I was followed by six men. They cut me off from where I was going and started to chase me. I wouldn't have come here, but I had no other place to go." Raj leaned forward on the chair. "On my honor, Justice… they didn't see me come into the tavern."

  But why were they after you in the first place? Justice silently asked. His mind sorted through everything Raj had told him. Adding the fight in the cut and the way Raj had acted at lunch, Justice felt certain now that Raj was caught up in something ominous… something better left unknown.

  "And… ?"

  Raj met Justice's eyes squarely. "I can't go out again. Those men aren't going to give up easily. And Denny and—" He shook his head. "I've got to get these papers back to my friend, along with the message that I'm all right or they'll think I've been dumped in the canal."

  Or worse. "Fife's a long ways from here," Justice said aloud. "And I'd have to take a boat. I wouldn't want to be walking the bridges at this hour."

  Another uncomfortable silence. "Denny's not on Fife. He's staying with my friend."

  "Where?"

  "Petrescu," Raj said and gave an address.

  Justice hitched himself forward, sat with his elbows on his knees and stared at Raj. "I don't want to know anything more about this. In fact, I think I might know too much as it is."

  Raj's black eyes glittered in the lamplight. "It's not what you suppose, Justice. Believe me."

  And what is it you think I suppose? Some crazy cult? Is that it, Raj? Could you be caught up with them? You say you're from Nev Hettek, and Adventist. And what did those men who followed you want? You or the papers you carry? O Lord and Ancestors! I hope I'm wrong! Justice matched Raj stare for stare. "Don't tell me any more, Raj. Just give me the message."

  "Then you'll go?"

  "Yes." Idiot! I'm an idiot! "Petrescu isn't all that far away. I know a couple of honest boatmen who'll take me there."

  Raj started digging in his shirt pocket. "At least let me�
��" "No. I can afford it better than you can. Now what's the message?"

  "Justice." Raj leaned forward in the chair. "You do realize this could be dangerous, don't you? Very dangerous."

  "The thought crossed my mind," Justice replied, somewhat amazed at his own calm.

  "Then for Lord's sake, go armed. You're no mean swordsman from what Denny says. And tell the boatman to take the most direct route."

  Justice visualized the ways to Petrescu. "Down Archangel to the Grand, I'd think."

  "Go past Foundry, then up Fishmarket." Raj's face tightened. "And when you get to Petrescu Cut, be especially wary of the Hagen Cut opposite."

  "Ambush?"

  "It's a possible place for one." "You think I'll be followed?"

  "I'm not sure. Damn! I wish you had some kind of cover. Then you'd—"

  A sudden inspiration. "I've got one," Justice said, and smiled slightly at Raj's expression. He pointed to his desk and the packet of medicine Raj had given him at lunch. "Your friend's sick. I could be making an after-hours delivery—"

  Raj shook his head."No. You said you don't want to know anything more about all this, but you've got to understand… such a delivery wouldn't do my friend any good. In fact—"

  "So he's being watched too?"

  Raj shifted in his chair. "Possibly."

  Possibly? What the hell am I getting into? "Damn. Then what could I be taking?" Justice looked around the room, seeking anything that could make his trip seem legitimate. "Got it!" he said, and pointed to the floor beside the desk. "Books."

  "Books?"

  "How many people would pay attention to some student out making a book delivery from the College?''

  Raj nodded slowly. "I see what you mean. Now if you were carrying something that looked like drugs or food—"