Part 8 (1/2)

He drifted on to the puzzle of the slain bogon.

Who conjured it? No friend, certainly. Someone who did not want the mummies to reach er-Rashal? That made sense. a.s.suming those brittle old sticks could be put to major sorcerous use.

In theory, the mysterious enemy could be any sorcerer aware of what er-Rashal was planning. Which, certainly, was nothing urgent. Or he would not be cruising the Mother Sea just to check on one spy's progress.

That deserved reflection, too.

There was a soft tap at his door. He did not respond. That would be another house wh.o.r.e offering her services. Or maybe a boy, since he had refused two women already.

NAHLIK SAT DRINKING WINE ACROSS FROM ELSE. ELSE CONfined himself to coffee. It would take him a while to wean himself from dietary law.

Nahlik had succeed a long time ago.

Two more men shared their table in a sailors' dive known as the Rusted Lantern. Mallin had come in with Nahlik. The other man was a stranger. He had been there when Else arrived, unconscious in a pool of his own vomit. Customers took what seats they could, though that settled them in the company of strangers.

Mallin said, ”We'd better talk before they throw this one out so they can fill the seat with a paying customer.”

Else grunted. ”Nahlik, you were on the mark when you said don't take anything embarra.s.sing ash.o.r.e. Somebody went through my stuff last night. While I was at supper.”

”Probably just looking for something to steal,” Mallin said. ”But you'd a' heard about it if you had anything that didn't fit.”

Nahlik said, ”You were followed here. By that scrawny, stringy-haired character bellying up over there. He's too busy getting himself on the outside of a few quarts of wine to keep a close watch on you.”

Else quickly related what he had heard last night and what that might mean in terms of the character of the new Patriarch.

Mallin opined, ”He's just coming in overconfident. They all are at first. Then they find out how powerless they really are.”

”This one has a different feel, even from here.”

Nahlik said, ”We don't know you anymore.”

A big, st.u.r.dily built brute was talking to the stringy-haired character. Neither looked at Else but he knew they were talking about him.

Turning so it looked like he was talking to Mallin, Nahlik asked, ”You know what s.h.i.+p you're taking?”

”Vivia Infanti.”

”We'll get your stuff aboard. Mallin, take hold of the drunk. We'll walk him out like he's our friend.”

They barely got the drunk off his stool before a boy materialized, armed with a filthy rag and a bowl of dirty water. He made a dispirited effort to clean up the vomit.

”Do a good job I'll give you a copper for your own,” Else whispered.

The boy discovered reserves of enthusiasm. Else slipped him a coin. ”I need more coffee. No! I don't want your sister, your mother, or you. I just want more coffee.”

A newcomer started to settle opposite Else. The big man who had been talking to the skinny one pushed him aside. ”Go away,” he said. He took the stool himself.

Else studied his coffee and waited for another cup to arrive. He felt the big man staring at him.

He appeared to be alone. His behavior had attracted no attention despite its rude and provocative nature.

Else said, ”That was inexcusably rude.”

It was clear the big man meant to become violent. Else trumped him.

The man started to speak but gasped in surprise instead.

”Don't pick a fight with a man who has one hand under the table. If you take a breath I don't like I'll ruin your knee. If you move at all I'll ruin your kneecap. Nod if you understand.”

The man nodded. He showed no fear, just pain and confusion. He was not accustomed to being on the downhill end of the pain/terror equation.

Else's fresh coffee arrived. He paid using one hand. Then he told his new friend, ”You were going to explain what you're doing. And why. You were going to do that because you don't want to live the rest of your life with only one good leg.”

The big man was careful not to move.

”Speak to me,” Else said. He pushed the long dagger's razor-sharp tip a quarter inch deeper into the s.p.a.ce beneath the man's right kneecap. Nothing. ”There'll be no help. Your longhaired friend left.” Still nothing. ”If you have the brains G.o.d gave a toad ...” The Sha-lug had a saying, You can't fix stupid, said of crusader captains who fell for a trick more than once. This looked like it might be a major case of stupid. ”You're bothering me for a reason. I want to know what it is.” He probed a little deeper with the dagger.

Else saw the moment when the shock cleared enough for realization to strike home. The moment when understanding arrived.

The big man ground his teeth. ”There is nothing I can tell you.” He spoke mechanically. ”I was told to find Carpio. He would point you out. I would kill you in a brawl that Carpio would swear you started.”

”But Carpio took off right after he talked to you. Where do you suppose he went? Who told you to kill the man he marked?”

”Starkden. The order came from Starkden.”

”Is that a man's name?”

”Starkden is a woman. They say.”

Volunteered information. A good sign. A watershed in this relations.h.i.+p. ”Be that as it may, Starkden sent you. Why?”

”Because she wanted you dead, I guess.”

”Why?”

Shrug.

”Tell me about this woman. Including where I can find her.”

The big man knew nothing. He'd never met Starkden. He'd heard that she was an older woman, in her forties or even her fifties. If you did what she said she paid well. She supposedly had no political or religious axes to grind. Not that he cared about that stuff himself.

Else questioned the man for another ten minutes and learned nothing more. ”All right, Ben.” The big fellow's name was Be-natar Piola. ”I want you to sit right there till your knee stops hurting. If you put any strain on it right away it'll fold up, you'll wreck the joint, and they'll probably have to cut off your leg.” You could not fix stupid but you could use it.

Else called for wine for Ben, paid and left.

Once back at the factor house he told his story to anyone who would listen. He thought a legitimate traveler would do that. And he hoped somebody would have an idea about what really had happened. He got nothing for his trouble but insincere sympathy. He should have had sense enough not to frequent waterfront dives. n.o.body seemed willing to guess who Starkden might be.

The morning he was supposed to board Vivia Infanti for Sonsa he received a summons through a house messenger. He followed nervously. Something must have gone wrong. Then he was sure it had when he found himself in a room with four older members of the Brotherhood of War.