Wicked Bronze Ambition

101

Trivias Smith visit provided some unwanted physical exercise but not much else. Smith handed me half a dozen tracers smashed by Operators he said were the same pair who had placed the order. One sounded like Magister Bezma in a bad mood. He had called his companion “brother.” Smith wasn’t sure if that meant a relationship or was a title. Did Kyoga have any uncles? I’d have to ask.

“Brother” hadn’t been happy. He’d done his work, reluctantly, never speaking. He would rather have been elsewhere doing anything else.

“Probably a religious brother,” I said. “The ugly one with the deformity is a magister from Chattaree, in a bad temper because his evil scheme is falling apart. His own grandson was killed.”

“I fear I cannot generate much sympathy.”

Morley opined, “The fool didn’t just ask for the pain, he begged.”

I asked Smith some general questions. He didn’t mind answering. Yes, the Guard had been underfoot but hadn’t interfered with business. The villains, after collecting their swords, had headed for Flubber Ducky.

We chatted briefly, me thinking he might be good to know down the road. Meanwhile, Morley showed a surprising interest in the practical side of smithery. And I thought some more about sneaking off to the family mausoleum.

The Flubber Ducky boys must have held a strategy session and decided that cooperation would be their least costly policy, going forward. They didn’t hold back. Magister Bezma and his sidekick had roared in, done some damage, then carried off everything having anything to do with their order, complete or not. It all went into a generic little covered wagon drawn by a single ox. They had headed toward the Dream Quarter. And that was that, except that Pindlefix was so bold as to suggest that I should shun Flubber Ducky now and forevermore. That or suffer the burden of a thousand curses.

Morley observed, “Too bad Singe isn’t with us. She could find those idiots fast. Though that’s maybe too optimistic in this drizzle.”

That had let up for a time but now looked like it was about to come back. On the upside, we did have Orchidia’s umbrella.

“I think we know where to find them.”

“Chattaree?”

“Where else?”

“Been a while.”

“It has. And they’ll be ready this time. Chances are, we’ll be at the tail end of a line.” I reminded him who would be ahead of us, in case he hadn’t been paying attention.

He said, “This Bezma is one dumb shit. Your Algardas are bad enough to poke a stick in the eye, but the Black Orchid? She’ll be back. Those big things weren’t planning to hurt her. I’ve only ever heard rumors, but I know I don’t want her on my case. She’s like a supernatural force, not just some slick killer.”

“That’s what they say. That she might be an incarnation of a death spirit. A real shinigami. Look, I’m pretty sure this tournament was a jackleg operation from the get-go, a case of incompetent ambition driving the halt and blind in a scheme fancied up by a brain-dead sociopath born with no imagination.”

The dogs stopped to stare.

“Be sure you let us know what you really think, old buddy.”

“The only reason we haven’t buried the whole mess already is that it’s so stupid we can’t figure it out.” Or maybe because there was more than one thing going on and I kept pounding square pegs to make it a solitaire.

“Uh. . way to make yourself clear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I do. It’s like trying to find a serial killer. They aren’t usually smart, they just don’t have any obvious connection to their victims, and the logic driving them is alien.”

“That’s kind of basically it.”

“Here’s an odd thought. Assuming you’re figuring on heading on back home. How about we visit Playmate?”

“It needs doing. It would do wonders for my attitude if he turned out spanking good. But there is the matter of pending excitement at Chattaree.” And of my ever-growing inclination to go see Strafa.

Something was going on way down below the surface of my mind. I couldn’t get it to come out, but I had experience enough with me to know it was coming. To suspect that seeing Strafa might break it loose.

I couldn’t shake Shadowslinger’s dread prophecy about an onrushing deadline.

Morley grumbled, “There is Chattaree, yes.” After a dozen steps, he mused, “Maybe it would have been wiser to swallow your pride and hand it off to the tin whistles.”

Whoa! “Damn! I did waste a fat opportunity when we had Scithe right there. We had one of Block’s top boys and Relway’s own cousin besides. What more could I ask?”

“So we’ll see Play on the way back from Chattaree.”

I like how he remains optimistic.

“Seen the blond kid around?” I asked.

“Not since Beifhold’s Mill. But don’t bet a rusty Venageti fil that she isn’t watching.”

My own thoughts exactly.