Never deal with a Dragon

20

Sam awoke as his muscles locked into a brief spasm. After a moment of startled disorientation, he lay back, confused. He was indoors and in a bed whose soft quilt lay heavily on his naked skin. The room was dark, lit only fitfully by indirect glow from what seemed to be a fire in the next room. He was surrounded by a vaguely familiar scent at once comforting and strange.

He couldn’t remember how he had come to be here. Last he knew he had been in the forest, running for his life from the Tir Tairngire border guards. And there had been a pair of wolves.

The memory was confused, one thing blending into another.

Images of the place where Hanae had died dominated his memories. Flash-lit shards from the attack, tranquil images of the scene as they had bedded down with the shadowrunners, washed-out visions of Elves wandering among the destruction. It all dissolved into whirling impressions of the dark forest and his haunted run through the dark.

Sam remembered falling and hitting his head. A cautious exploratory hand confirmed that memory. He had a very large bump on the back of his head, but he felt curiously little discomfort on touching it. in fact, none of the scrapes and bruises from his run bothered him. They were still there, though, evidence that the nightmare in the forest had been real. His mysterious benefactors must have given him something for the pain.

Faces came to mind. One was a haughty and disdainful male, the other a concerned but faintly confused female. Both were long and thin with slightly slanted eyes. Their ears had just the hint of a point. They could almost be the faces of Elves, but they weren’t, they couldn’t be. It was Elves that had tried to kill him. Why would they save him? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember clearly, but Sam was sure that hands belonging to those faces had helped him from the forest, seen to his wounds, and installed him in this bed.

Not knowing where he was or who were his benefactors made him nervous. His state of undress only exaggerated the feeling of exposure. As he sat up to look around the room, a steely glint in one corner caught his eye. Chin Lee’s assault rifle leaned against the wall. Whoever had brought him here felt comfortable enough to leave him armed. Or had they?

He crept from the bed and checked the weapon as he had seen the Ork do. It was still loaded. They did trust him. Surely, then, he was not a captive of the Tir Tairngire border guards.

On a stool beside the gun was a pile of clothes. They were not his, but must have been left with the intent that he wear them. He soon found that they fit, he was pulling on the boots that had been tucked under the stool when he heard the soft murmur of voices in the next room. Lacing the footgear quickly, he moved to the doorway to listen.

The door opened onto a large chamber that ran past the bedroom. The speakers were out of his line of sight, somewhere off to his right. Distance and the muffling effect of the curtains and wall hangings made their words impossible for him to quite make out. The tones and cadences were familiar, however. He had heard these speakers before. He knew it had not been in surroundings as luxurious as this well-appointed hideaway, but he could not place them. Curious, he stepped out into the light to get a look.

Three men looked over, startled at the sight of Sam. Two of them were seated and one stood by the large windows that faced onto the forest. The standing man was totally unfamiliar, but the two men in conversation were not.

One man was seated almost full-faced toward Sam, and he stopped speaking in mid-sentence. Sam had only spoken with this man once, but the man’s pock-marked skin and heavy, almost continuous brows were fixed in his memory. It was Castillano, the enigmatic denizen of the Seattle underworld whom Sam had met during his misadventure with Tsung’s shadowrunners.

The other sat not quite in profile. Sam could see his pointed Elven ears and the capped studs of a datajack and a pair of chipjacks on his depilated left temple. Even before the Elf turned, the white shock of hair and familiar black leathers told Sam that it was Dodger, Tsung’s decker.

Another man entered from a side room along the same wall that held Sam’s room. No name came to mind, but Sam recognized him as the male from his recent memories. A wolf trotted at the man’s side. The animal seemed quite at home and unconcerned that its claws clacked on wood rather than scraping on the loam of the forest floor. It noticed Sam in the doorway and padded over. He bent to meet the animal on its own level, recognizing her, too.

“Freya?”

The wolf tossed her head at the sound of her name and licked his face.

“She bites,” said the unnamed man with the familiar face.

‘It’s all right. She won’t bite me.”

As if she understood his words, Freya pulled away from his hands and nipped at them before submitting again to his petting. The others in the room watched without a word. When Sam at last looked up, he met their eyes. Castillano’s stare was grim, but Dodger’s eyes lit with pleasure. The others were indifferent.

“Sir Corp,” Dodger said. “I am glad to see you awake and refreshed from your slumber. We feared that you had taken serious harm. Come sit by the fire and tell us the tale of how you wandered so far from your home.”

Sam gave Freya a last pat and strolled over, taking a vacant chair. The wolf followed behind and curled up near his feet, back to the fire. He looked down at her, trying to buy time. He wasn’t sure what to say. These people had presumably saved his life, so he owed them something. But he had no idea of where he stood.

“Whyever were you running aimlessly through the forest?” Dodger prompted.

“I left Renraku. Now they’re trying to kill me.”

“What?”

“The border patrol. They called me a renegade.”

“You are still muddled from your ordeal and present your explanation poorly, Sir Corp. You were never a member of the patrol so you could not be a renegade.”

“No. The corporation.”

Dodger laughed in disbelief. “Corporations do not levy the death sentence on simple runaways.’Tis a penalty far too harsh. And to chase you here into the Tir… it is unbelievable.”

Castillano tapped his hands on the arm of his chair. “What else you into?”

“Nothing” Sam said, bewildered by the question.

“A lie. Too much fuss.”

“Indeed, a great fuss has been raised and your tale makes no accounting for it. There must be more involved. Sir Corp, you had best tell us who is out to kill you.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t really know.”

“Mayhaps you best take the tale of how you come to be so far from home and tell it whole.”

Sam nodded. It might be best to get it straight. Telling these people might make it easier for him to settle it in his own mind. Haltingly at first, he began with the growing dissatisfaction with Renraku and the frustrated desire to trace his sister that led to his decision to leave the arcology and the corporation behind. He recounted the extraction and its disastrous end, but omitted the names of all participants save Hanae. “So you see,” he concluded, “I really don’t know what is going on. But I’m not so far from home; I don’t have a home anymore.”

“A most lamentable tale,” Dodger said sympathetically.

“Smoke and fog,” Castillano judged.

The Elf gave the man a look of annoyance. “Methinks your verdict harsh. Is it your intent to speak ill of your guest?”

Castillano shrugged.

Dodger turned to Sam. “I have had reliable word from friends in the shadows of Portland. They tell the tale of a Renraku reward for the capture or elimination, preferably the latter, of a pair of renegade employees who stole some valuable company technical secrets.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam protested.

“ ’Tis said that these renegades were extracted by a handful of shadowrunners and driven south. They were alleged to be planning on illegally crossing the Tir Tairngire border.” The Elf paused for a moment. “ ‘Tis but a tiny step to match the descriptions of these renegades to you and your ladyfriend.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We didn’t take anything but personal property.” Sam shook his head perplexedly. “Maybe the other guy took something.”

“Other guy?” Castillano queried.

“Sir Corp, you made no mention of another.”

“Well, there was another employee being extracted at the same time,” Sam said.

“Shadows say only you and the woman.”

“Well, there was another guy, and he must have taken something. The Elves said there was high-tech stuff in the van he was in. He’s dead now, too.”

“Elves?” Castillano’s tone clearly indicated that he expected an elaboration.

Sam explained what he had seen and heard of the border patrol. Castillano’s face remained impassive, but Dodger looked thoughtful.

“ ’Twould seem that the Dragon’s words to the Tir Tairngire authorities were taken to heart.”

“A Dragon?” Sam asked, suddenly suspicious. “What kind of Dragon?”

Dodger shrugged. “Whatever the form, they are all trouble. Do you know, Castillano?”

“Feathered serpent. Young.”

“Tessien.” Sam felt sure of it.

“You have knowledge of this beast?”

“I’m afraid so, if it’s the same one.” How many could there be? “It was supposed to be Roe’s partner.”

Dodger sat back at the mention of her name and even Castillano blinked. Sam didn’t know what to make of their reactions, but he was sure he wasn’t going to like the explanation.

“Roe?”

“Yes. The woman who arranged the extraction. Do you knew her?”

Dodger and Castitlano exchanged glances. The fixer nodded slightly, but it was Dodger who spoke. “There is someone with a bit of reputation in the shadows. Was your Ms. Roe an Elf with platinum hair and an expensive wardrobe?”

“She would fit that description,” Sam confirmed.

“Roe, of course, is not her real name,” Dodger said. Looking worried, he leaned back in his chair. “This shadow person of whom I spoke-there are rumors that she has partnered with a Dragon in some of her most recent escapades. That dracoform is whispered to be known as Tessien. I think, Sir Corp that there cannot be two Elves partnered with dracoforms named Tessien. Very likely, you lady Elf is the notorious runner better known as Hart.”

“Don’t want any trouble with Hart. Suit, you got to go.”

“We need not be hasty, Lord C. ’Twould seem that the border guards believe your guest to be dead. Hart and her employer will have the same information. No one will come looking.”

Castillano shook his head. “Unnecessary risk.”

“Verily, you worry too much, Lord C. Your enterprise will remain undisturbed.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked innocently.

“Need to learn manners, Suit.”

“Sorry. I thought you were a fixer. Isn’t that a city thing?”

“So?”

Dodger spoke up, his light tone an apology for the fixer’s gruff reticence. “Lord C. is engaged in a noble and charitable service, Sir Corp. He arranges for those who have an abundance of small, valuable items to dispose of their excess to those who have a dearth of such, but have difficulties dealing with certain arbitrary political boundaries.”

“You talk too much, Elf.”

“Come, come, Gracious Host. I believe that our friend here is stalwart and trustworthy. He shan’t reveal any of your secrets, for it would be most disloyal to betray his host’s trust and Sir Corp places a very high value on loyalty.”

“Too many mouths; too much talk.” Castillano rubbed at the palm of his left hand. “Don’t want extra trouble.”

“I don’t want to give it to you,” Sam assured him. “I won’t say anything. But I need your help. I need to get back to the metroplex.”

“Got a plan?”

“I guess I’ll go back to Renraku. This whole thing is so crazy. I don’t see any other way to straighten it out.”

“Got a lot to learn.”

“I’ve got to do something. From what you’ve said, someone, either Roe, I mean Hart, or whoever is behind her, deliberately set me up to be killed. That same someone let me drag an innocent woman into their plot. It’s my fault that Hanae was killed, and I’ve got to do something to set that right. They’re murderers and I’m going to see that they pay for it.”

“Very noble.”

“Scoff not at this man, Lord C. He has been wronged and his heart cries out for revenge. Surely you understand revenge?”

“I understand business” Castillano rubbed his palms together. “This is bad for it.”

“I’ll pay you,” Sam offered desperately.

“What?” Castillano asked tonelessly. “Got no credit, no money, no gold. Only a pile of old pictures and a few chips.”

“You can have the chips. The persona programs are worth something.”

“Too hot. They’re tagged.”

“Sir Corp offers all he has, Castillano. Surely that is worth something.”

“Appealing to my Human nature, Elf?”

Dodger smiled humorlessly. “Call it what you will. If you do not help, I shall. Suddenly I find more merit in his desires than in the lure of your offer.”

“Your loss, Elf.” Castillano stood. “Got some credit coming. Be in your account.”

“Your honor is intact, Lord C.”

“Just have the kid leave the clean chips before you leave.”

Castillano signed to his men and they all headed for one or the other moms. Freya gave Sam a look that he interpreted as sympathetic before heaving herself up from before the fire and padding after them. Sam thought he heard the Elf add softly, “Though your mercy lags.”

Just before vanishing into the next room, Castillano threw a parting shot over his shoulder. “Keep the Bible, kid. You’ll need it.”