The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) (22 page)

“Certainly, Commander,” Shadow said.  “What is the second area of support you’re looking for?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard from the Nobles that the best defense is a good offense,” the Commander said.  Her comment brought a smile to Hoskins’ face.  “I’m going to be attacking Shirley Patterson in a few days, and I need help from the Crows.”

Shadow nodded.  “I see.  In that case, there’s another issue we must speak of first.”

“Certainly.”  The Commander remained calm.  Sinclair half-expected complaints about lack of cooperation and Crow intransigence, especially after Hoskins and Dowling’s lengthy diatribes on the subject.

“Gilgamesh has been challenged to a duel,” Shadow said.

The Commander but raised an eyebrow.  Sinclair marveled at her self-control.  “A duel?  Is there any possibility Shirley Patterson is behind this?”

“Such coordination is of course possible.  I distrust coincidences, and too many of our adversaries have strong connections to the Pheromone Flow.  On the other hand, we’ve expected this challenge ever since Gilgamesh announced his Guru status in October.  His recent discovery regarding Crow fertility was the final straw.”

The Commander grunted and stared off into the darkness.  “Our adversaries, as you term them, may not be allied, but they’re linked together simply by being our adversaries,” the Commander said.  “The timing of the challenge may have been chosen simply to prevent us from concentrating our resources on the challenge.  What exactly is a Crow duel, Shadow?  What are its implications?”

To Sinclair’s surprise, Shadow explained the Crow politics of the situation to the Commander.  Starting with the basics.  It took Sinclair a few minutes to figure out why Shadow started with the basics, before he remembered Gilgamesh’s utter bogglement regarding politics of any variety.  It took Shadow about fifteen minutes to finish his explanation, and some of what he talked about – such as how this was a challenge to Shadow’s status as a Mentor – Sinclair hadn’t even known.

The explanation didn’t throw the Commander.  She seemed to have a good feel for politics.  Even Rumor, with his disdainful attitude regarding Arms and things political and strategic, seemed impressed.  Sinclair decided that part of the reason for the explanation was as a lesson to Rumor.  Shadow had been going all out with his politicking in the past month, including an attempt to pry Rumor loose from Thomas the Dreamer.

“My dreams of Patterson have Crows in them, Shadow,” the Commander said.

Shadow nodded, and half turned to Rumor.

“Patterson held at least one Crow as a captive before Keaton’s attack,” Rumor said.  Sinclair shivered at the news and nestled closer to Hoskins.  “She may possess many more.”

“A gamble, then…” A smile crept across the Commander’s face.  “Shadow, can you spare any of your faction at all to help in the attack on Patterson?”

“Well, Sky and Occum are both in need of proving quests as Gurus,” Shadow said.  “My stature would be helped immensely if they were to succeed and gain official Guru status.  Then, of course, there is Rumor.  If you have no objections?” he said, to Rumor.

“My only objection depends on how seriously you’re approaching this attack, Commander.  What makes you think you’ll fare any better than Arm Keaton and her small army did?” Rumor said.

“Well, as to faring better, I do know enough to come talk to you first.”

Rumor laughed.  Sinclair winced at Rumor’s casual use of Crow willpower.  Few Crows, if any, could be so amused and so sure of themselves when facing these three warrior Major Transforms.  Rumor should be a Guru, perhaps even a Mentor, save for the same political problems holding back Shadow.  His casual bantering with the Commander did nothing to disprove this assertion.  “If you’re that intelligent, why then I suppose I will need to help you in your little war,” Rumor said, with a chuckle.  “Perhaps I can even give you some help ahead of time.”

“What sort of help?”

Rumor looked the Commander over, a faint smile on his face.  “How about a map of Patterson’s compound?  She’s taken over an entire neighborhood; it’s not just a single building.  I can also tell you about her personal capabilities, her flunkies, her defenses, her daily routine, what sort of tricks you can expect her to use, and what sort of weapons you’ll be facing.  Or, if rumors of your hobbies are correct, her compound’s food purchase history.”

“I have all night,” the Commander said.  She turned back to Shadow.  “The Nobles aren’t going to be allowed at the Crow duel, are they?  They’re one of the questions you’re fighting over.”

Shadow nodded.  Sinclair was amazed.  He hadn’t picked that tidbit out of Shadow’s explanation.

“In that case, we won’t be diluting our strength…” the Commander said, eyes focused on infinity.  Sinclair wasn’t sure what the Commander was up to, but it reeked of being devious.  “Instead of delaying things, I’d like you and Gilgamesh to take advantage of the fact you can choose when and where to hold the duel by scheduling it to happen during our attack,
and
by holding it somewhere close to Pittsburgh.  He’s got to win, too.”

Shadow thought for a moment.  “I think we can arrange the first.  The latter may be significantly more difficult.”

The Commander nodded and then turned to Hoskins and Dowling.  “Your graces.  I’m going to stage a large battle.  Any interest?”

Sinclair winced.  She had just tossed the red meat to the starving dogs.

“Oh, a little, for various reasons.”  Hoskins grinned and showed his teeth.  “A real battle is difficult for a Noble to resist.”

“I would like to ask for more than that.  What would it take for you to commit the full resources of the Nobles to this, since they won’t be needed at the duel?”

Hoskins crossed his arms across his chest.  “At some time in the near future we’re going to go after Enkidu and the Hunters.  When we do, I want the full resources of the Arms.”

His comment took the Commander by surprise.  Rumor had leaned on Hoskins and Dowling not to participate at all in a fight against Patterson, or at least to make sure the Nobles weren’t going to be used as cannon fodder.  Rumor insisted that Patterson had many traps prepared for the Nobles.  Hoskins remained unconvinced, but was at least taking the bargaining seriously.

“I’m asking your help on a single battle.  You’re asking my help in what will most likely be a long war, your grace.”

Hoskins said nothing, and just stared at the Commander.  Hoskins had also leaned on Occum and Sinclair, to convince them that for negotiations such as these, the Noble leaders, not the Crow Masters, had to be the ones making the decisions.

The Commander nodded.  “Okay.  You understand how much I want to go after the Hunters, and how much I’ve worked to get the other Major Transforms interested.  I’m willing to agree, with one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I want command.  When we do go after the Hunters, I claim overall strategic command.”

Hoskins frowned.  “It’s our fight.  A Noble should be in command.”

“It’s our fight as much as it’s your fight.  Enkidu is a personal enemy of mine.”

Hoskins was unconvinced.  The Commander shook her head.  “Command or no deal.  Do you want command or do you want to win?  If you’ve got anyone as good as I am, I haven’t seen it.  You want all the resources of the Arms?  That includes me and all I can do.”

Hoskins smiled sardonically.  “You seem a little sensitive about being under someone else’s command.”

The Commander shrugged.  “You could say that.”

He thought for a long moment.  “I want a position as a first tier senior lieutenant.”

The Commander nodded.  “Then and now.  I’ll take you as one of my senior lieutenants when we go against Patterson.”

“That will be acceptable.”

“Good.  I’m gathering my army in a camp in the Adirondacks.  Come.  Bring your Nobles…”

“Commander?” Sinclair said.  She turned to him.

“Yes?”

“I have a suggestion, perhaps a little intemperate and forward,” Sinclair said, his voice trailing off.  He was doing it again!  He was just an ordinary Crow…

The Commander didn’t respond, just eying him quietly.  Without threat.

He finally found his voice, again, and shot a glance at Focus Rizzari.  “Ma’am, Pregnant Transforms, especially pregnant Focuses, are extremely attractive to Crows.  Perhaps…”  His voice trailed off, again unable to speak.  Too personal.

“I like!” the Commander said, with a laugh.  “You can’t have Lori for your duel, but Gail and her household are only doing logistics.  That’s a wonderful idea, to have them come to the duel to support Gilgamesh.  Thanks!”

Sinclair nodded, his face beet red and blushing.

Dolores Sokolnik: December 21, 1972

The front doorbell rang.

Del decided to investigate, almost overcome with worries.  A full day had passed since Ma’am Keaton last reported in.  More, a couple of hours ago, Focus Morris had disappeared from the basement.  No one could figure out how.  Something was badly wrong.

Del picked up nothing on her metasense, and through the peephole, she saw an operative from Vartle Courier, the courier service Ma’am Keaton used.  The deliveryman carried a huge box in his hand.  Del sniffed.  No explosives, or odor of Bass in the area, either.  Del cursed fate – this could be a test by Ma’am Keaton – and undid the locks and deadbolts.  Keaton’s door, battleship steel, would stop a charging rhino.

The deliveryman slapped the door when Del had it a quarter inch open, and in an instant, Del found herself face down on the carpet, pinned, a honking big pistol on her temple.  Arm Webberly held the pistol, her hard brown face impassive.  “Don’t move your right hand to trigger that trap, Student.”  Two Arms Del didn’t recognize slid into view at the door, guarding it and cowing the other Arms in the room.  The huge unknown Arm, roughly Webberly’s age, appeared hassled and worried.  The other one, a young Arm of Dottie’s age, tried for stone faced and failed; she was terrified out of her mind.

“Yes, ma’am,” Del answered, her mind on automatic and her cheek pressing hard against the carpet.  The carpet smelled of sweat, explosives, and fear.

Damn!  Nothing Del knew of hinted that Arm Webberly had any such tricks.

“That was on purpose, Student,” Webberly said, answering Del’s unasked question.  Del let her thoughts vanish into her quiet pools.  Her fear, her hard learned fear, vanished with her thoughts.

“Student, I don’t approve of that trick,” Webberly said.  “Going without fear is counter-survival.  As your new teacher, you will not banish fear from your mind
ever.
  Not until you can prove to me that the situation demands it.”

Ma’am Keaton was dead or captured, as they had feared.  “Ma’am, what is the fate of Arms Bass and Rayburn?”  Del’s words were slurred from the pressure of her cheek against Ma’am Keaton’s white carpet.  She sensed out, looking for help from Bartlett, Maynard or Kent, but they had followed their instincts and hit the floor in an instinctive grovel.

“Captured as well.  However, two Major Transforms left Patterson’s compound fifteen minutes after the attack failed, and Giselle and I think they may be after us.”

Webberly didn’t mask her emotions or her mind when she spoke; to the best of her knowledge she spoke the truth.  Giselle was the huge Arm, and, yes, pretty much all she was doing was metasense scanning.  Del took a deep breath and composed herself.  It was obvious to her what had happened.

“If the Commander’s report and my own analysis is correct, one of the two who left Patterson’s compound is Arm Bass, who has been in the employ of Focuses Patterson, Fingleman and perhaps Julius for years.”  Del’s voice didn’t waver, her horror over the situation never escaping her quiet pools.  “Bass betrayed the Boss and the rest of us, and she holds a particular grudge against me.  She may be heading here, ma’am, for at least that reason.”

Webberly rested her cheek against Del’s, her mouth just inches from Del’s ear.  Her voice was barely audible.  “I
said
drop the without-fear trick, Student.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Del did, and let herself feel the force of Webberly’s powerful predator.  If she could maneuver Webberly into one of the nets, though, then…

“Don’t even think about it, Student,” Webberly said, in that soft, icy voice.  “You may have tricked Bartlett and Kent into taking your tag, but I’m an Arm of an entirely different stripe, and I have backup.  You either take my tag or I leave you behind, unconscious and juice stripped.”

“Ma’am.  Can you protect me from Arm Bass?”

“Student, the proper question is ‘can we protect each other from Arm Bass’?  The answer is yes, but the way we’re going to protect each other is by using the same tactics as you’ve been employing: deceit and trickery.  In our case, we’re not going to be here.  Bass can’t attack us if she can’t locate us.  Now, are you going to take my tag or not?”

“No, ma’am.”

The pressure increased on Del’s ribs, and there was a stabbing pain through her shoulder as Webberly tightened her hold on Del’s arm.  “You’re being stupid.”

“Take me to the Commander.  I want to talk to her.”

“See this tag?” Webberly said.

Del nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  It’s a half-tag.  Arm Bartlett wears one.”