Wicked Bronze Ambition

110

Orchidia turned spook. After several minutes she manifested again to report, “The children, the magister, and a dozen others, mostly dead or dying, are in there. Your Mashego was a true shinobi blade master.”

I held up a hand in case somebody felt like pursuing the standard Garrett strategy of charging in smashing people and things. I had a notion, though, that subtlety might be more appropriate this time.

Orchidia said, “The magister has erected an impressive array of warning spells, booby trap spells, and old-fashioned mechanical snares. He posted gray rats and gargoyles around the neighborhood, too. The grays deserted, however.”

“They ran when Fire Este and Mud Man arrived,” Dan said. “Without telling their boss that they were going.”

Perhaps some threats had been leveled.

The grays would be desperately dependent on John Stretch’s forbearance now.

Patient henchfolk listened as Orchidia continued, asking no questions. Even I kept quiet, though I did wonder how she had gotten such a good look around in the short time that she’d been gone.

Sorcery, the rat men would say.

I told myself she had to be an avatar of Enma Ai. Death goes everywhere unnoticed until it touches someone.

I had lost control. This was no longer my operation. It belonged to the Black Orchid. The rest of us had become supporting players. And that was good enough for me, for now. She had the tools. She had the skills. Even pursuing the ploy that was central to my plan would be more promising with her on the scene. She could do so much more than the rest of us.

Maybe fate was behind me. Maybe not every god had it in for me all the time. Maybe I’d just drawn my one random divine good hand.

Orchidia said, “The gargoyles have to be neutralized. Otherwise we’ll have them behind us and they can see in the dark better than humans, dogs, or rats. Wait here.”

She dematerialized before I could ask what she meant to do.

I had an idea. I didn’t like it.

Morley would have no reservations. That would be his own option were the decision his to make. It was not his custom to leave live adversaries behind him. His standard of necessity was lower than mine.

He made a small gesture. There was enough moonlight to let me catch it. I nodded, got Mikon’s attention. “One more time, friend. Are you going to help scuttle Bezma’s plan?”

He had agreed and agreed, but I hadn’t felt his conviction. He didn’t want to betray his cousin, however ugly that cousin’s ambition might be. He didn’t truly believe that the rest of us just wanted to abort the Ritual, save the children, and wreck the tournament.

It didn’t much matter what he believed, or even what he wanted, anymore. While I diverted him Morley climbed into the coffin. Mikon thought he would be delivering it empty. Part of his discomfort was his dread of Bezma’s displeasure once he opened the box.

Last time we worked this grift, we delivered a coffin full of extremely hungry vampire.

Orchidia rematerialized. “We may have a problem. Two of the gargoyles had been neutralized before I got there.” She described frail bodies brutally torn. “The others have fled, I hope without giving Meyness Stornes any warning. Garrett, your pretty girl has written herself into tonight’s play. However cute she may be, she is no paragon of sweetness.”

“Is she another shinigami?”

“What?”

I decided not to tell her that I thought she might be possessed by a death spirit. “Nothing. Let’s do what we’re here to do. We’ll deal with that when we have to.”

The blonde and her friend couldn’t be a threat. They’d had tons of chances to make my life miserable and dangerous. They hadn’t done so.

Whether they could be counted on to be on my side might be a whole ’nother bucket of monkey guts.

Lights had come to life inside the Hauser place while Orchidia was hunting. Several, scattered across the ground floor, feebly leaked through boarded windows. I suspected that somebody had lighted half a dozen floating-wick oil lamps. I patted Mikon on the left shoulder. “Time.”

He didn’t want to go. I didn’t blame him. He was in a solid pinch between the devil and the deep. There was no way out but treachery, with guaranteed despair if he bet wrong. The right bet only offered a slim chance to live on in shame.

He asked, “Isn’t it a little early?”

“Aren’t you already late?” If his mission had gone swimmingly, he would have arrived here with Strafa a while ago.

“All right. Moving out.” But before he started, Orchidia kissed him firmly, one final piece of dark psychological warfare. He didn’t need her to remind him, “If there is a next kiss. .”

A pale hope. The Black Orchid might forgive his part in the conspiracy that had claimed her children. All he had to do was. .

I was sure Mikon had had nothing to do with those deaths. Chances were, his cousin had kept him ignorant so his conscience wouldn’t lead him to do anything inconvenient.

I was equally sure that his ignorant innocence meant nothing to the Black Orchid. I couldn’t find any forgiveness lying around loose myself.

“Scoot,” I hissed.

Mikon started moving.

So did everyone else.

The rat people gathered in a clutch of shadow where, it became clear, they were getting in touch with normal rats, to scout and observe.

The Black Orchid became invisible. I would have stayed near Mikon myself. Maybe she was so close he’d never get a chance to betray the scale of the peril closing in on Bezma-if he was foolish enough to try.