Faded Steel Heat (40 page)

Where did he find them all?

That fact that he could round up that many people fanatically devoted to law and order was as scary as the fact that our Marengo North Englishes and Bondurant Altoonas could find all the friends they wanted.

Human folks were flooding the streets now, starting their day. Many were the sort who worshipped Marengo. They did not like what they saw when Singe and I strolled by.

It constituted a little lesson on what it means to be a ratman.

Singe’s courage was not up to a prolonged test.

Mine wasn’t much less feeble.

Singe told me, “I cannot remain with you.”

“I understand. Before you go, though, tell me, did your people track the scentless one to others like it?”

“It went to a place where others of its kind waited.”

“Ah! And where might that have been? How many of them were there?”

“Three and the one we followed. We did not understand the language they spoke. Nor could I get very close. They were alert. They were very troubled.”

“You did get close enough to listen?”

Singe made a dramatic effort to respond with a nod. “We are often closer than you think.”

I hugged her with one arm. She barely came up to my brisket. Somehow, she seemed bigger when we were just walking, talking. “You are the bravest child I’ve ever met.”

Did you know rats purr? I’d heard cats and raccoons do it, but never... Singe did.

I tried to be stern. “You can’t take risks like that. These creatures are extremely dangerous. They think nothing of murder. I’d hate myself if you got hurt.”

Singe’s purr grew louder. I could hear Morley and Belinda mocking me now. I cautioned myself not to let Singe make too much of my praise.

“Where’re they hiding?”

She had trouble explaining. Ratpeople don’t think in terms of street names and addresses. Not that we have the latter anywhere but on the Hill. Mostly you locate yourself as being so many doors some direction from an outstanding landmark. Like, say, a tavern. Most of those draw their names from signs easily recognized by the illiterate. The Merry Mole. The Gold Seam, for dwarves. The Palms for people overburdened with wealth and self-opinion.

She made me understand. “A lamp, is that it?” She got that across with finger speech when I proved too dense to get it verbally. “Down by the river? There aren’t any taverns... The Lamp brewery? That’s been closed up and abandoned for twenty...”

What a wonderful place to squat. The Lamp brewery was no sprawling monster like the Weider place but in its day it was a leading producer of working-class lager. It went before my time but the old men remember it fondly. I suspect time improves the beer, as it will do. Had the Lamp product been superior, the brewery would still be in business.

“That’s interesting, Singe. Very interesting.” I’d have to let Relway know. We could give the place a look when I got back from The Pipes.

The shifters had themselves a brewery. But not a functional brewery. Nor one that could be made functional, probably. Anything of any use whatsoever would’ve been sold or stolen long ago.

I told Singe, “I owe you.” She purred some more. “But I really don’t want to be indebted to Reliance. I feel like he’s up to no good.”

The child wasn’t completely smitten. Nor wholely thick-witted. I didn’t lead her into any verbal ambush. She didn’t volunteer anything.

I chuckled. “You’re the best. Look, I have to go out to the country. You go home and rest. You should stop taking risks for that old schemer.”

She stopped walking. For a moment she found the courage to look me directly in the eye, which ratpeople are almost constitutionally incapable of doing. Then she extended a paw. I extended my own. She gave me a light, nervous handshake. “Thank you for not being cruel.”

“Cruel? What?...” Pular Singe vanished into an alley more quietly than one of the creatures from which her race had been wrought.

94

Headed toward the city gate I discovered that I was being tailed again. There were three of them, working as a team. They were good. But they didn’t have the advantage of having tagged me with a spell. Somebody had to stay close to see me. Which meant I could see him if I paid attention.

One was a Relway thug I’d seen in the background around the Weider place. So my pals at the Al-Khar did have time and manpower to watch me even when there was excitement going on right inside their own house.

Who were the raiders? If the shifters were all holed up at the Lamp brewery, crying in their beer? Could I assume they were Genord’s pals?

Relway or Block would let me know. If the mood took them.

Mine was not a comfortable journey, even with the Guard watching over me. I was without defensive resources again. And I was alone. My passage drew concerned or calculating looks everywhere. Already there was a general assumption that a man alone either had reason to be supremely confident or was a complete fool.

I tried to maintain a confident swagger.

I felt a puff of cool air. I hadn’t paid much attention to the weather. Clouds were piled up to the south. We might be in for some thunderstorms. This time of year they usually hold off till late afternoon. If I really hustled, I could get back to town ahead of the showers.

By the time I reached The Pipes the temperature had risen and the clouds had become less impressive. They would grow again when the temperature began to fall.

Hey! I don’t recall anybody ever paying much attention to that kind of thing. Well, maybe farmers. But you’d have a hell of a racket going if you could predict the weather. Stormwardens make a hell of a racket out of just creating small spots of weather... But that’s a tough way to make a living. The magic is harder on the magician than it is on the world around him.

There was steady traffic on the road but I never worried. I didn’t draw attention to myself. I was just one more vagabond drifting. Call uniforms and freecorps armbands were plentiful, suggesting a lot of messages moving between The Pipes and Marengo’s satraps inside the city. I expected trouble getting past the gate but Marengo and Mr. Nagit had left word. The gate was well-defended now. Still not strongly enough to whip a troop of centaurs but, probably, enough to discourage that crew from attacking in the first place.

What had become of them? Did Block and Relway mention them to their military contacts? Or Mr. Nagit or Colonel Theverly might have done so. It needed doing. We couldn’t have random armed bands roving the countryside.

A youngster who reminded me of me six or seven years ago went to the house with me. “You walked all the way out here?” Like he found that hard to believe.

“You must’ve been cavalry.”

“Yeah.”

“Figures.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing personal. I just don’t like horses. Anything interesting happened since yesterday?” Probably better change the subject. Cavalry types are goofy about horses. You can’t find an ounce of rational paranoia among ten thousand of them.

“Been a campout. Bigwigs been busy, though. The Old Man got mad once he got over having his feelings hurt.”

North English let word of his pecadillo get out? I asked.

“Nah, he ain’t bragging. But other people know. Word gets around.”

Interesting. Marengo told me he was the only survivor of the ambush. I should’ve been the only one he told the real story. “Just out of curiosity, what story did you hear?”

His story matched Marengo’s.

Interestinger and interestinger.

Why
would he want everyone to know? Most of us prefer to conceal our humiliations and screwups. Marengo North English struck me as very much that sort of man. What was the tactical advantage?

Or had he confided in someone who hadn’t kept his secret? Or... Might one of his attackers have retailed the story?

95

My return must have been portentous for North English. Fifteen minutes after I entered his house I was alone with him in his dimly lighted sanctum. His expression suggested he was unnaturally interested in what I would have to say. Before he could ask me anything I inquired, “Are you aware that every man on the grounds knows what happened the other night? Not the official version but the version you told me?” If the men knew, then Tama must know. Might be a good time to find out if she had formed any opinions.

A darkness stirred behind Marengo’s eyes. Perhaps it was veiled anger. He growled, “I didn’t tell anyone but you.” He watched me intently. I don’t know what he expected.

“And I never told a soul,” I lied. Then I mused, “You did say that the men who attacked you looked like they belonged to the movement.”

North English grunted. He must’ve thought about that more than he wanted to admit. He must’ve taken it to heart. The kid who had walked me to the house had told me Marengo was hiding out today, letting no one in to see him but Tama. There were no bodyguards around so maybe he was getting paranoid about everybody.

I told him, “I saw Belinda. She swears she had nothing to do with the attack, nor was she responsible for that invitation. I believe her.”

North English’s style was becoming plebian. He grunted again, evidently preoccupied with rearranging furniture inside his head. He didn’t seem surprised by what I’d just said. Eventually he pulled himself together, and urged, “Tell me what you think.”

I offered some ideas that had occurred to me during the walk from town. Marengo continued more attentive than ever before. Somehow he must’ve come to the conclusion that I was a real person.

“You’re convinced there’s a connection between Brotherhood Of The Wolf and this Black Dragon gang?”

“There’s no absolute proof but the circumstantial evidence looks strong to me.”

“And this’s something you just came up with on the way out here?”

“Oh, no. The Guard are looking at the possibilities from another angle. There may have been a previous connection during the war. And the shapeshifters may be associated with Glory Mooncalled somehow.”

It was obvious that was something Marengo didn’t want to hear. “You have a plan?” The North English I wanted to believe in, the one who could contemplate mass extinctions without qualm, seemed about to emerge from behind the mask. Marengo sounded harder and more angry by the minute.

I said, “I have some ideas. There’ll be risks. Do you have any men you trust completely? Bearing in mind that the Brotherhood Of The Wolf was practically your bodyguard.”

Hard Marengo glared. He didn’t like my plan already.

“I can find men on my own. If you prefer.” Like he was in whether or not he liked it.

“Talk to me.”

I explained. He frowned a lot. He seemed confused by several points, like his memory was a little rocky. He muttered to himself, interrupted himself to ask, “Does this mean you’ve lost interest in the library?”

“Pretty much.” What the hell brought that on? I reviewed briefly, then continued.

Marengo asked, “Will Weider cooperate?”

“I think so.” Putting words into the Old Man’s mouth.

“I’d guess so, too. He’ll want to balance the books. How many men will you want?”

“Say twenty? Enough to put up a fight even if a few aren’t trustworthy.”

“Good. Good. When do you want to do it?” He seemed eager to cooperate now.

Marengo North English seemed a different man when he wasn’t “on” in front of his followers. No sense of conviction came off him at all.

“As soon as we can. Which would be tomorrow night at the earliest, probably. There’s a lot to pull together.”

“At this end, too. But I think we need to do it. Find Nagit. Don’t tell him anything, just send him to me. I’ll talk to him, then send him along with you to run messages. So you don’t have to ride out here and back every few hours.”

“All right. But I wouldn’t be riding, I’d be walking.”

As I started toward the door he demanded, “Why the hell don’t you get a horse?”

I thought he knew. “I need the exercise.” They must’ve done some research on me. That was common sense.

He smiled wickedly. “That’s right.” And now I got the feeling he did know all about me. I had the feeling that he was taunting me somehow. Or maybe he was just letting me know that I wasn’t inside anything here yet and there was no way I was going to get inside. This was a marriage of convenience only.

North English suggested, “Tell Nagit to dredge you up some decent clothing. It’d be a shame if everything went in the shitter because you got dumped into a vagrants’ home.”

The shitter? Why would he, suddenly, start using language like that? It didn’t fit the superior-race image.

96

I ran into Tama in the hallway outside. She was carrying tea and rolls for two. The tea smelled good. She seemed delighted to see me, yet infinitely suspicious. “Will you stay a little longer this time?” Her voice husked. My spine quivered. My knees jellied. Boy, could she suggest a lot without saying anything.

Her smile broadened. It told me Tinnie wasn’t here to save me this time. I gobbled, “I wish I could.” She slithered closer. Long, dark fingers spidered up my chest to my hair, my cheek, then drifted down again. The woman was pure devil.

“Some chances come once in a lifetime. Are you done in there?”

“Uhm.” I was done. I was crispy around the edges. “I need to find Mr. Nagit.” I gulped. Seemed like I needed an awful lot of air suddenly.

“He went out to the stables. Probably trying to stay out of Colonel Theverley’s way. They don’t get along. Do take advantage of the
tea
while it’s hot.”

She stepped very close again. That demon hand... Marengo North English was one lucky man. She never stopped smiling and never turned off the raw animal attraction. I took a cup and stared and tried to find my lost breath as she went on to serve Marengo.

I don’t know what Tinnie meant. Tama’s behind didn’t look bony at all. In fact...

I found Mr. Nagit out back. He couldn’t have been more thrilled to see me if I’d been the old boy with the sickle. But he was a gentleman. He was polite. I told him what I thought he needed to know. “He’s going to plug the leak? Wonderful. Then the attack did wake him up.”