Shadows Linger (3 page)

Silent shrugged. He seemed almost indifferent to the proximity of death. He
hurled a spell at a man being boosted through a window.

Trumpets brayed in the night. “Ha!” I shouted. “They're coming!” The last gate
of the trap had closed.

One question remained. Would the Company close in before our attackers finished
us?

More windows gave. Silent could not be everywhere. “To the stair!” Candy
shouted. “Fall back to the stair.” We raced for it. Silent called up a noxious
fog. It was not the deadly thing he had used before. He could not do that again,

now. He hadn't time to prepare.

The stair was easily held. Two men, with Silent behind them, could hold it
forever.

The Rebel saw that. He began setting fires. This time Silent could not
extinguish all the flames.

JUNIPER: KRAGE
The front door opened. Two men shoved into the Lily, stamped their feet and beat
the ice off themselves. Shed scuttled over to help. The bigger man pushed him
away. The smaller crossed the room, kicked Asa away from the fire, squatted with
his hands extended. Shed's guests stared into the flames, seeing and hearing
nothing.

Except Raven, Shed noted. Raven looked interested, and not particularly
disturbed.

Shed sweated. Krage finally turned around. "You didn't stop by yesterday, Shed.

I missed you."

"I couldn't, Krage. I didn't have anything to bring you. Look in my coin box.

You know I'll pay you. I always do. I just need a little time."

"You were late last week, Shed. I was patient. I know you're having problems.

But you were late the week before that, too. And the week before that. You're
making me look bad. I know you mean it when you say you'll pay me. But what will
people think? Eh? Maybe they start thinking it's all right for them to be late,

too. Maybe they start thinking they don't have to pay at all."

“Krage, I can't. Look in my box. As soon as business picks up. . . .”

Krage gestured. Red reached behind the counter. "Business is bad everywhere,

Shed. I got problems, too. I got expenses. I can't meet mine if you don't meet
yours." He ambled around the common room, examining the furnishings. Shed could
read his mind. He wanted the Lily. Wanted Shed in a hole so deep he would have
to give the place up.

Red handed Shed's box to Krage. Krage made a face. “Business really is bad.” He
gestured. The big man, Count, seized Shed's elbows from behind. Shed nearly
fainted. Krage grinned wickedly. “Pat him down, Red. See if he's holding out.”

He emptied the coin box. “On account, Shed.”

Red found the silver leva Raven had given Shed.

Krage shook his head. “Shed, Shed, you lied to me.” Count pressed his elbows
together painfully. “That isn't mine,” Shed protested. "That belongs to Raven.

He wanted me to buy wood. That's why I was headed for Latham's." Krage eyed him.

Shed knew Krage knew he was telling the truth. He didn't have the guts to lie.

Shed was scared.

Krage might bust him up just so he would give up the Lily to buy his life. What
then? He would be without a gersh, and in the street with an old woman to look
after.

Shed's mother cursed Krage. Everyone ignored her, including Shed. She was
harmless. Darling stood in the kitchen doorway, frozen, one hand fisted before
her mouth, eyes full of appeal. She watched Raven more than Krage and Shed.

“What do you want me to break, Krage?” Red asked. Shed cringed. Red enjoyed his
work. “You shouldn't hold out on us, Shed. You shouldn't lie to Krage.” He
unleashed a vicious punch. Shed gagged, tried to fall forward. Count held him
upright. Red hit him again.

A soft, cold voice said, “He told the truth. I sent him for wood.”

Krage and Red shifted formation. Count did not relax his grip. “Who are you?”

Krage demanded.

“Raven. Let him be.”

Krage exchanged glances with Red. Red said, “I think maybe you'd better not talk
that way to Mister Krage.”

Raven's gaze rose. Red's shoulders tightened defensively. Then, aware of his
audience, he stepped over and threw an open-palmed punch. Raven plucked his hand
out of the air, twisted. Red went to his knees, grinding his teeth on a whimper.

Raven said, “That was stupid.”

Astonished, Krage replied, “Smart is as smart does, mister. Let him go while
you're healthy.”

Raven smiled for the first time in Shed's recollection. “That wasn't smart.”

There was an audible pop. Red screamed.

“Count!” Krage snapped.

Count hurled Shed aside. He was twice Red's size, quick, strong as a mountain,

and barely as smart. Nobody survived Count.

A wicked nine-inch dagger appeared in Raven's hand. Count stopped so violently
his feet tangled. He fell forward, rolling off the edge of Raven's table.

“Oh, shit,” Shed groaned. Somebody was going to get killed. Krage wouldn't put
up with this. It would be bad for business.

But as Count rose, Krage said, “Count, help Red.” His tone was conversational.

Count obediently turned to Red, who had dragged himself away to nurse his wrist.

“Maybe we had a little misunderstanding here,” Krage said. "I'll put it plain,

Shed. You've got one week to pay me. The big and the nut both."

“But. . . .”

“No buts, Shed. That's according to terms. Kill somebody. Rob somebody. Sell
this dump. But get the money.” The or-elses did not have to be explained.

I'll be all right, Shed promised himself. He won't hurt me. I'm too good a
customer.

How the hell would he come up with it? He couldn't sell out. Not with winter
closing in. The old woman couldn't survive in the street.

Cold air gusted into the Lily as Krage paused at the door. He glared at Raven.

Raven did not bother looking back.

“Some wine here, Shed,” Raven said. “I seem to have spilled mine.”

Shed hustled despite his pain. He could not help fawning. "I thank you, Raven,

but you shouldn't have interfered. He'll kill you for that."

Raven shrugged. “Go to the wood-seller before somebody else tries to take my
money.”

Shed looked at the door. He did not want to go outside. They might be waiting.

But then he looked at Raven again. The man was cleaning his nails with that
wicked knife. “Right away.”

It was snowing now. The street was treacherous. Only a thin white mask covered
the mud.

Shed could not help wondering why Raven had intervened. To protect his money?

Reasonable. . . . Only, reasonable men stayed quiet around Krage. He would cut
your throat if you looked at him wrong.

Raven was new around here. Maybe he did not know about Krage.

He would learn the hard way. His life wasn't worth two gersh anymore.

Raven seemed well-heeled. He wouldn't carry his whole fortune around with him,

would he? Maybe he kept part hidden in his room. Maybe enough to pay off Krage.

Maybe he could set Raven up. Krage would appreciate that.

“Let's see your money,” Latham said when he asked for wood. Shed produced
Raven's silver leva. “Ha! Who died this time?”

Shed reddened. An old prostitute had died at the Lily last winter. Shed had
rifled her belongings before summoning the Custodians. His mother had lived warm
for the rest of the winter. The whole Buskin knew because he had made the
mistake of telling Asa.

By custom, the Custodians took the personal possessions of the newly dead. Those
and donations supported them and the Catacombs.

“Nobody died. A guest sent me.”

“Ha! The day you have a guest who can afford generosity. ...” Latham shrugged.

“But what do I care? The coin is good. I don't need its provenance. Grab some
wood. You're headed that way.”

Shed staggered back to the Lily, face burning, ribs aching. Latham hadn't
bothered to hide his contempt.

Back home, with the fire taking hold of the good oak, Shed drew two mugs of wine
and sat down opposite Raven. “On the house.”

Raven stared momentarily, took a sip, maneuvered the mug to an exact spot upon
the tabletop. "What do you want?''

“To thank you again.”

“There's nothing to thank me for.”

“To warn you, then. You didn't take Krage serious enough.”

Latham tramped in with an armload of firewood, grumbling because he couldn't get
his wagon out. He would be back and forth for a long time.

“Go away, Shed.” And, as Shed rose, face hot, Raven snapped, “Wait. You think
you owe me? Then someday I'll ask a favor. You do it. Right?”

“Sure, Raven. Anything. Just name it.”

“Go sit by the fire, Shed.”

Shed squeezed in between Asa and his mother, joining their surly silence. That
Raven really was creepy.

The man in question was engaged in a lively exchange of signs with the deaf
serving girl.

TALLY: CLOSE-UP
I let the tip of my blade drop to the inn floor. I slumped in exhaustion,

coughing weakly in the smoke. I swayed, feebly reached for the support of an
overturned table. Reaction was setting in. I had been sure this time was the
end. If they hadn't been forced to extinguish the fires themselves. . . .

Elmo crossed the room and threw an arm around me. “You hurt, Croaker? Want me to
find One-Eye?”

"Not hurt. Just burned out. Been a long time since I been so scared, Elmo.

Thought I was a goner."

He righted a chair with a foot and sat me down. He was my closest friend, a
wiry, old hardcase seldom given to moodiness. Wet blood reddened his left
sleeve. I tried to stand. “Sit,” he ordered. “Pockets can take care of it.”

Pockets was my understudy, a kid of twenty-three. The Company is getting
older-at least at its core, my contemporaries. Elmo is past fifty. The Captain
and Lieutenant straddle that five-zero. I wouldn't see forty again. “Get them
all?”

“Enough.” Elmo settled on another chair. “One-Eye and Goblin and Silent went
after the ones who took off.“ His voice was vacant. ”Half the Rebels in the
province, first shot.”

“We're getting too old for this.” The men began bringing prisoners inside,

sifting them for characters who might know something useful. “Ought to leave
this stuff to the kids.”

“They couldn't handle it.” He stared into nothing, at long ago and far away.

“Something wrong?”

He shook his head, then contradicted himself. “What are we doing, Croaker? Isn't
there any end to it?”

I waited. He did not go on. He doesn't talk much. Especially not about his
feelings. I nudged. “What do you mean?”

"Just goes on and on. Hunting Rebels. No end to the supply. Even back when we
worked for the Syndic in Beryl. We hunted dissidents. And before Beryl. . . .

Thirty-six years of same old same old. And me never sure I was doing right.

Especially now."

It was like Elmo to keep his reservations in abeyance eight years before airing
them. “We're in no position to change anything. The Lady won't take kindly to us
if we suddenly say we're only going to do thus and so, and none of that.”

The Lady's service has not been bad. Though we get the toughest missions, we
never have to do the dirty stuff. The regulars get those jobs. Preemptive
strikes sometimes, sure. The occasional massacre. But all in the line of
business. Militarily necessary. We'd never gotten involved in atrocities. The
Captain wouldn't permit that.

“It's not the morality, Croaker. What's moral in war? Superior strength. No. I'm
just tired.”

“Not an adventure anymore, eh?”

“Stopped being that a long time ago. Turned into a job. Something I do because I
don't know anything else.”

“Something you do very well.” That did not help, but I couldn't think of
anything better to say.

The Captain came in, a shambling bear who surveyed the wreckage with a cold eye.

He came over. “How many did we get, Croaker?”

“Count's not in yet. Most of their command structure, I'd guess.”

He nodded. “You hurt?”

“Worn out. Physically and emotionally. Been a while since I was so scared.”

He righted a table, dragged up a chair, produced a case of maps. The Lieutenant
joined him. Later, Candy brought Madle over. Somehow, the innkeeper had
survived. “Our friend has some names for you, Croaker.” I spread my paper,

scratched out those Madle named. The company commanders began drafting prisoners
for grave-digging detail. Idly, I wondered if they realized they were preparing
their own resting places. No Rebel soldier is paroled unless we can enlist him
inescapably into the Lady's cause. Madle we enlisted. We gave him a story to
explain his survival and eliminated everyone who could deny it. Candy, in a fit
of generosity, had the bodies removed from his well.

Silent returned, with Goblin and One-Eye, the two smaller wizards bickering
caustically. As usual. I do not recall the argument. It didn't matter. The
struggle was all, and it was all decades old.

The Captain gave them a sour look, asked the Lieutenant, “Heart or Tome?” Heart
and Tome are the only substantial towns in Tally. There is a king at Heart who
is allied with the Lady. She crowned him two years ago, after Whisper slew his
predecessor. He is not popular with the Tallylanders. My opinion, never asked,

is that she should dispose of him before he does her further harm.

Goblin laid a fire. The morning hours were nippy. He knelt before it, toasting
his fingers.

One-Eye poked around behind Madle's counter, found a beer jar miraculously
unscathed. He drained it in a single draft, wiped his face, surveyed the room,

winked at me. “Here we go,” I murmured. The Captain glanced up. “Eh?” “One-Eye
and Goblin.“ ”Oh.” He went back to work and did not look up again.

A face formed in the flames before frog-faced little Goblin. He did not see it.