by Glen Cook
“Over here. I think we got him cornered.”
“Get up there, you bastards!” Krage raged.
Lying motionless on the cold, icy tar, Shed watched two shadows appear on the skirt and begin easing toward the voice. A squeal of metal and vicious cursing proclaimed the fate of a third climber. “Twisted my ankle, Krage,” the man complained.
“Come on,” Krage growled. “We’ll find another way up.”
Run while you got the chance, Shed thought. Go home and hole up till it’s over. But he could not. He slid down to the skirt and crept after Krage’s men.
Someone cried out, scrabbled for a hold, plunged into the darkness between buildings. Krage shouted. Nobody answered.
Shed crossed to the roof next door. It was flat and forested with chimneys. “Raven?” he called softly. “It’s me. Shed.” He touched the knife in his sleeve, still unable to believe that he’d used it.
A shape materialized. Shed settled into a sitting position, arms around his knees. “What now?” he asked.
“What’re you doing here?”
“Krage dragged me along. I was supposed to be the first one dead if it was a trap.” He told Raven what he had done.
“Damn! You’ve got guts after all.”
“He backed me into a corner. What now?”
“The odds are getting better. Let me think about it.”
Krage shouted out in Chandler’s Lane. Raven yelled back, “Over here! We’re right behind him.” He told Shed: “I don’t know how long I can fool him. I was going to pick them off one at a time. I didn’t know he’d bring an army.”
“My nerves are shot,” Shed said. Heights were another of the thousand things that terrified him.
“Hang on. It’s a long way from over.” Raven yelled, “Cut him off, why don’t you?” He took off. “Come on, Shed.”
Shed could not keep up. He wasn’t as nimble as Raven.
A shape loomed out of the darkness. He squeaked.
“That you, Shed?” It was one of Krage’s men. Shed’s heartbeat doubled.
“Yeah. You seen Raven?”
“No. Where’s Luke?”
“Damnit, he was headed right at you. How could you miss him? Look here.” Shed indicated disturbances in traces of snow.
“Look, man, I didn’t see him. Don’t come on at me like you was Krage. I’ll kick your ass up around your ears.”
“All right. All right. Calm down, I’m scared and I want to get it over. Luke fell off. Back there. Slipped on some ice or something. Be careful.”
“I heard. Sounded like Milt, though. I’d have sworn it was Milt. This is stupid. He can pick us off up here. We ought to back off and try something else.”
“Uhn-uh. I want him now. I don’t want him tracking me down tomorrow.” Shed was amazed. How easily the lies came! Silently, he cursed the man because he wouldn’t turn his back. “You got an extra knife or something?”
“You? Use a knife? Come on. Stick with me, Shed. I’ll look out for you.”
“Sure. Look, the trail goes that way. Let’s get it done.”
The man turned to examine Raven’s tracks. Shed drew his knife and hit him hard. The man let out a yell, twisted. The knife broke. Shed almost pitched off the roof. His victim did. People shouted questions. Krage and his men all seemed to be on the rooftops now.
When Shed stopped shaking, he started moving again, trying to recall the layout of the neighborhood. He wanted to get down and head home. Raven could finish this insanity.
Shed ran into Krage on the next roof. “Krage!” he whined. “God! Let me out of here! He’ll kill us all!”
“I’ll kill you, Shed. It was a trap, wasn’t it?”
“Krage, no!” What could he do? He didn’t have the butcher knife now. Fake. Whine and fake. “Krage, you got to get out of here. He already got Luke and Milt and somebody else. He would’ve gotten me when he got Luke, except he fell down and I got away—only he caught up again when I was talking to one of your guys right over there. They got fighting, and one of them went off the edge; I don’t know which, but I bet it wasn’t Raven. We got to get down from here, on account of we can’t tell who we’re running into so we got to be careful. I could have had him this last time, only I didn’t have a weapon and we didn’t know it wasn’t one of our own guys coming. Raven don’t have that problem. Anybody he sees he knows is an enemy, so he don’t have to be so careful. …”
“Shut up, Shed.”
Krage was buying it. Shed talked a little louder, hoping Raven would hear, come, and finish it.
There was a cry across the rooftops. “That’s Teskus,” Krage growled. “That’s four. Right?”
Shed bobbed his head. “That we know about. Maybe there’s only you and me now. Krage, we should get out of here before he finds us.”
“Might be something to what you say, Shed. Might be. We shouldn’t have come up here. Come on.”
Shed followed, keeping up the chatter. “It was Luke’s idea. He thought he’d make points with you. See, we saw him at the top of this drainspout and he didn’t see us, so Luke said why don’t we go after him and get him, and old Krage will. …”
“Shut up, Shed. For God’s sake, shut up. Your voice sickens me.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Krage. Only I can’t. I’m so scared. …”
“If you don’t, I’ll shut you up permanent. You won’t have to worry about Raven.”
Shed stopped talking. He had pushed as far as he dared.
Krage halted a short time later. “We’ll set an ambush near his wagon. He’ll come back for it, won’t he?”
“I expect so, Mr. Krage. But what good will I be? I mean, I don’t have a weapon, and wouldn’t know how to use one if I did.”
“Shut up. You’re right. You’re not much good, Shed. But I think you’ll do fine as a distraction. You get his attention. Talk to him. I’ll hit him from behind.”
“Krage. …”
“Shut up.” Krage rolled over the side of the building, clung to the parapet while getting a solid foothold. Shed leaned forward. Three stories to the ground.
He kicked Krage’s fingers. Krage cursed, scrabbled for a fresh hold, missed, dropped, yelled, hit with a muted thump. Shed watched his vague shape twitch, become still.
“I did it again.” He started shaking. “Can’t stay here. His men might find me.” He swung over the parapet and monkeyed down the side of the building, more afraid of being caught than of falling.
Krage was still breathing. In fact, he was conscious but paralyzed. “You were right, Krage. It was a trap. You shouldn’t have pushed me. You made me hate you more than I was scared of you.” He looked around. It wasn’t as late as he had thought. The rooftop hunt hadn’t lasted long. Where was Raven, anyway?
Somebody had to clean up. He grabbed Krage, dragged him toward Raven’s wagon. Krage squealed. For a moment Shed was afraid someone would investigate. No one did. This was the Buskin.
Krage screamed when Shed hoisted him into the wagon. “Comfy, Krage?”
He retrieved Luke next, then went seeking other bodies. He found another three. None were Raven. He muttered, “If he doesn’t show in a half hour, I’ll take them up myself and the hell with him.” Then: “What’s come over you, Marron Shed? Letting this go to your head? So you found some guts. So what? That don’t make you no Raven.”
Someone was coming. He snatched a booty dagger, faded into a shadow.
Raven tumbled a body into the wagon. “How the hell?”
“I collected them,” Shed explained.
“Who are they?”
“Krage and his men.”
“I thought he ran for it. Figured I had to go through it all again. What happened?”
Shed explained. Raven shook his head in disbelief. “You? Shed?”
“I guess there’s only so much they can scare you.”
“True. But I never thought you’d figure it out. Shed, you amaze me. Disappoint me, too, some. I wanted Krage myself.”
“That’s him making the noise. He’s got a broken back or something. Kill him if you want.”
“He’s worth more alive.”
Shed nodded. Poor Krage. “Where are the rest of them?”
“There’s one on the roof. Guess the other one got away.”
“Damn. That means it’s not over.”
“We can get him later.”
“Meanwhile, he goes and gets the others and we have them all after us.”
“You think they’d risk their lives to avenge Krage? No way. They’ll be fighting among themselves. Trying to take over. Wait here. I’ll get the other one.”
“Hurry up,” Shed said. The reaction was catching up. He had survived. The old Shed was coming back, dragging all his hysteria with him.
Coming down from the castle, with pink and purple strands of dawn smearing the gaps between the Wolanders, Shed asked, “Why is he screaming?”
The tall being had laughed and paid a hundred twenty leva for Krage. His shrieks could still be heard.
“I don’t know. Don’t look back, Shed. Do what you have to and move on.” And, a moment later: “I’m glad it’s over.”
“Over? What do you mean?”
“That was my last visit.” Raven patted his pocket. “I have enough.”
“Me, too. I’m out of debt. I can refurbish the Lily, set my mother up in her own place, and have plenty to make it next winter, no matter what business is like. I’m going to forget that castle exists.”
“I don’t think so, Shed. You want to get away from it, better come with me. It’ll always be calling when you want some fast money.”
“I couldn’t leave. I have to look out for my mother.”
“All right. I warned you.” Then Raven asked, “What about Asa? He’s going to be a problem. The Custodians are going to keep looking till they find the people who raided the Catacombs. He’s the weak link.”
“I can handle Asa.”
“I hope so, Shed. I hope so.”
Krage’s disappearance was the talk of the Buskin. Shed played a baffled role, claiming he knew nothing, despite rumors to the contrary. His story held up. He was Shed the coward. The one man who knew differently did not contradict him.
The hard part was facing his mother. Old June said nothing, but her blind stare was accusing. She made him feel evil, an infidel, and disowned in the secret reaches of her mind. The gap had become unbridgeable.
Juniper: Nasty Surprise
Bullock looked me up next time he wanted to go downhill. Maybe he just wanted company. He had no local friends.
“What’s up?” I asked when he barged into my tiny office cum dispensary.
“Get your coat. Buskin time again.”
His eagerness excited me for no reason other than that I was bored with Duretile. I pitied my comrades. They hadn’t yet had a chance to get out. The place was a drudge.
So away we went, and going down the hill, past the Enclosure, I asked, “Why all the excitement?”
He replied, “Not really excitement. Not even anything to do with us, probably. Remember that sweetheart of a moneylender?”
“In the bandages?”
“Yeah. Krage. He’s vanished. Him and half of his boys. Seems he took a crack at the guy who cut him. And hasn’t been seen since.”
I frowned. That did not seem remarkable. Gangsters are always disappearing, then popping up again.
“Over there.” Bullock pointed to some brush along the Enclosure wall. “That’s where our men got inside.” He indicated a stand of trees across the way. “Parked their wagons there. We’ve got a witness who saw those. Filled with wood, he says. Come on. I’ll show you.” He pushed into the brush, dropped to hands and knees. I followed, grumbling because I was getting wet. The north wind did nothing to improve matters.
The interior of the Enclosure was seedier than its exterior. Bullock showed me several dozen bundles of wood found in the brush near the breach.
“Looks like they were moving a lot.”
“I figure they needed a lot to cover the bodies. Cut it up there.” He indicated trees above us, back toward Duretile. The castle stood limned against streamers of cloud, a grey stone rockpile one earth tremor short of collapse.
I examined the bundles. Bullock’s associates had dragged them out and stacked them, which may not have been smart detective work. Looked to me like they had been cut and bundled over a period of weeks. Some ends were more weathered than others. I mentioned that to Bullock.
“I noticed. Way I figure, somebody was getting wood regular. They found the Catacombs by accident. That’s when they got greedy.”
“Uhm.” I considered the woodpile. “Figure they were selling it?”
“No. That we know. Nobody has been selling Enclosure wood. Probably a family or a group of neighbors using the wood themselves.”
“You check on wagon rentals?”
“How stupid do you think people are? Rent a wagon for a raid on the Catacombs?”
I shrugged. “We’re counting on one of them being stupid, aren’t we?”
He admitted, “You’re right. It should be checked. But it’s hard when I’m the only one who has guts enough to do legwork in the Buskin. I’m hoping we get lucky somewhere else. If I have to, I’ll cover it. When there’s nothing more pressing.”
“I see the place where they got in?” I asked.
He wanted to tell me no. Instead, he said, “It’s a fair hike. Use up an hour. I’d rather go sniff around this Krage thing while it’s hot.”
I shrugged. “Some other time, then.”
We got down into Krage’s territory and started rambling. Bullock still had a few contacts left from his boyhood. Coaxed properly, with a few gersh, they would talk. I was not allowed to sit in. I spent the time sipping beer in a tavern where they alternately fawned over my money and acted like I had the plague. When asked, I did not deny being an Inquisitor.
Bullock joined me. “Maybe we don’t have anything after all. There’s all kinds of rumors. One says his own men did him in. One says it was his competition. He’s a little pushy with his neighbors.” He accepted a mug of wine on the house, something I hadn’t seen him do before. I put it down to preoccupation.
“There’s one angle we can check. He was obsessed about getting some foreigner who made a fool of him in public. There’s some say the same foreigner was the man who cut him up.” He took out a list and began to peruse it. “Not going to be a lot there for us, I expect. The night Krage disappeared there was a lot of whoop and holler. Not a single eyewitness, of course.” He grinned. “Ear-witnesses say it was a running battle. That makes me favor the palace revolution theory.”
“What have you got there?”
“A list of people who were maybe getting wood out of the Enclosure. Some might have seen each other. I was thinking I might find something interesting if I compared their stories.” He waved for more wine. This time he paid, and covered the first mug, too, though the house would have forgiven him payment. I got the impression Juniper’s people were used to giving Custodians anything they wanted. Bullock simply had a sense of ethics, at least where the people of the Buskin were concerned. He would not make their lives harder than they already were.
I could not help liking him on some levels.
“You’re not going to pursue the Krage thing, then?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. The bodies are missing. But that’s not unusual. Probably turn up across the river in a couple days, if they’re dead. Or screaming for blood if they’re not.” He tapped a name on his list. “This guy hangs around the same place. Maybe I’ll talk to this guy Raven while I’m there.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Who?”
He looked at me strangely. I forced myself to relax, to look casual. His eyebrows dropped. “Guy named Raven. The foreigner who was supposed to be feuding with Krage. Hangs out the same place as this one guy on my wood-gatherer’s list. Maybe I’ll ask him a few questions.”
“Raven. Un
usual name. What do you know about him?”
“Just that he’s a foreigner and supposed to be bad news. Been around a couple years. Typical drifter. Hangs out with the Crater crowd.”
The Crater crowd were the Rebel refugees who had established themselves in Juniper.
“Do me a favor? It’s a long shot, but this guy could be the ghost I was talking about the other day. Stand off a ways. Pretend you never heard the name. But get me a physical description. And find out if he’s got anybody with him.”
Bullock frowned. He didn’t like it. “Is it important?”
“I don’t know. It could be.”
“All right.”
“Keep the whole thing under your hat if you can.”
“This guy means something to you, eh?”
“If he’s the guy I knew, that I thought was dead, yeah. Him and me got business.”
He smiled. “Personal?”
I nodded. I was feeling my way now. This was touchy. If this was my Raven, I had to go careful. I didn’t dare let him get caught in the coils of our operation. He knew too damned much. He could get half the Company officers and non-coms put to the question. And made dead.
I decided Bullock would respond best if I kept it mysterious, with Raven an old enemy by implication. Somebody I would do most anything to jump in the dark, but not somebody important in any other way.
“I got you,” he said. He looked at me somewhat differently, as though glad to discover I wasn’t different after all.
Hell, I’m not. But I like to pretend I am, most of the time. I told him, “I’m going back to Duretile. Got to talk to a couple buddies.”
“Can you find your way?”
“I can. Let me know what you find out.”
“Will do.”
We separated. I went up the hill as fast as forty-year-old legs would carry me.
I got Elmo and Goblin off where nobody could overhear us. “We maybe got a problem, friends.”
“Like what?” Goblin wanted to know. He had been aching for me to talk from the minute I rounded him up. I guess I looked a little ragged around the fringes.
“There’s a guy named Raven operating down in the Buskin. The other day, when I was down there with Bullock, I thought I saw a guy who looked like our Raven from a distance, but I shrugged it off then.”