Wicked Bronze Ambition

42

I took Dollar Dan into the kitchen of my place on the Hill. My place. That was a tough one. Race and Dex were enjoying an afternoon snack consisting of a gallon of fortified wine. Me and my troop of rat man gangsters didn’t rattle them. They had heard all about me. Plus, they had been nibbling that lunch for a while.

Dex sealed the bottle and put it on a shelf too high for Dollar Dan to reach. Race gathered knives and silverware and everything else small enough to fall into a pocket. Neither showed an inclination to be apologetic.

I considered a crack indicting them, of all people, for prejudice but chose to save my breath. They wouldn’t get it. “You two the only ones here?”

Some folks just can’t answer a question directly. They’re made so they have to go somewhere else to get the job done.

Race said, “Barate was here but he left. He went up the Hill to visit.”

“I see. One of you go fetch Dr. Ted.”

Dex had had lunch enough to fuel a spark of attitude. He considered arguing. Race took him by the right elbow, burying a thumb in the joint, got his attention.

I said, “Dex, there are some dogs in the garden. They’re with me. Give them something to eat. Race, get the doctor.” I deployed my sergeant voice, the voice of the god that admits no possibility of debate.

The arrogance of my assumption that Dr. Ted would drop everything never tickled my consciousness.

In the nethermost background of my directions, unstated, was the fact that Race and Dex were facing the arbiter of their continued employment. Dr. Ted was, too, some, because of my Shadowslinger connection.

Dex said, “He’s probably at the old witch’s house with Barate.” For Race’s benefit, not mine, as he gathered scraps suitable for doggie dining.

Despite a major onset of the surlies, both men got busy.

Rat men tagging along, I went to have a gander at Vicious Min.

There was no Vicious Min.

There was an empty bed where a demon woman was supposed to be laid up. “Dan, get that clown I told to feed the dogs.”

Dex turned up fast, eyes bugging. “What the hell? Where did she go?” He began to shake.

“I was hoping you could explain, Dex.”

He swallowed some air. “I don’t know. She was in that fracking sack twenty minutes ago, when we was trying to get some soup inside her. She looked the same old, same old, in a coma. Worse than before, even. We figured she’d be gone in a day or two. You could smell the pus.”

“And then there was a miracle,” I grumbled.

“I guess.” Dex stirred the bedding like he might find that big beast hidden in the fold of a blanket. “This is still warm.”

He was right. Min had cut out moments before I walked in.

Dex said, “She must have been faking. But that would be tough to do, man.”

I agreed. I was suspicious. But in my racket you’re always suspicious. If you’re smart you keep a jaundiced eye on yourself. “Dan, there any chance your guys can follow her?”

“Garrett, take a whiff. You could follow this one.”

The bedding certainly reeked. “You give me too much credit. I just smell sickness and infection. Dex. When was the last time the doctor was here?”

“The day she went down. You was here.”

“Not since then? Why not?”

“Shadowslinger said.”

I didn’t get it. “She say why?”

“She didn’t want that thing having no outside contact with nobody.”

There might be some logic behind that, but I missed it. “I’ll ask why when I see her.”

Dex chose to reserve his thoughts about that. His employment was at risk already. “I hope she’s in good enough shape to talk. She looked awful when I saw her.”

There was a ruckus elsewhere in the house, which turned out to be Dollar Dan running into Race and Dr. Ted.

“Damn, Race, that was fast.”

“We said he was just up at Madame Algarda’s.”

“I thought it would take longer. Thanks for coming, Doctor, but things have turned sour. The patient has absconded.”

Dr. Ted sighed, shook his head. “She must be tougher than I guessed. I expected her to die.”

“I wouldn’t want you wasting your time, especially if you were working on Shadow. . On Constance. Who is doing how well, anyway?”

“She’s making progress. I’m cautiously optimistic, though I can’t quite say why. She’s in a vegetative state right now. With a will as massive as hers, she’ll probably bull her way through.”

“That’s good news.” The expected response, but I wondered if some folks might not consider it discouraging. “Can I visit her?”

Ted eyed me as though consulting a checklist of possible motives. “A visit should be all right. Don’t expect a response. Remember that even fierce people with hard hearts deserve consideration once they’ve been struck down. She might be aware of you. That could stiffen her resolve. But no business. No pressing. No bullying. I’ll throw you out if you try.”

I couldn’t stifle a grin at him doing his damnedest to be fierce. I could get to like the guy. “Where did you do your five, Ted?”

Nobody over twenty-two would misunderstand. When we were young anyone who turned eighteen still equipped with an approximately appropriate number of limbs and digits and a working eye could expect to spend his next five years trying to enforce the Karentine crown’s will on Venageta. For more than a century, that war was as much part of life as weather and the seasons. When I was a boy, even the concept of dissent had no life anywhere. Evaders were rarities held in contempt by all.

The state and polity still struggle with the consequences of victory. The end of the long war caused huge dislocations.

Ted reddened, did one of those indirect answer things. “I volunteered for a maneuver unit. Twice. Both times they told me I was too valuable to risk in a combat zone.”

Translation: His skills were such that they wouldn’t be wasted on less than the most exalted among us. Those days would have been when he made his connections on the Hill.

“Thank your patron god.” Guys like Ted, never stewed in the cauldron of blood, would be best suited to pilot Karenta into the postwar age. We who had seen the elephant knew only one way to cope.

Our Shadowslingers, who had been to war many times over, had to be heralded for their courage, but that sustained exposure seriously distorted their thinking.

Ted said something that I missed. I had wandered into the wilderness of my mind again. That was getting irksome. “Excuse me. I zoned.”

“Understood. I have flashbacks and never got closer to the fighting than Full Harbor with Prince Rupert the first time he went. I was a medical orderly then, officially.”

Naturally. He would have been taken into service before he finished hopping through all the hoops. “Your father was a physician, too?”

“Both parents. My mother was a medical genius. She never became a doctor officially. They didn’t accredit women back then. But she was a pet of the Royals. She saw to it that women can get accredited now.”

He probably started learning his stuff while he was learning to walk.

He observed, “There is no reason for me to stay here, the patient having chosen to desert.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I’m rattled. Dex, should any rat men turn up here, tell them I’ve gone on to the old woman’s place. And ease up on the wine.” I’ve never understood why some people prefer rotted grape juice. I can’t quite trust their sort.

Dex restrained himself. “Yes, sir. As you wish, sir.”

“Good. I’m sure we’ll be glad we decided to keep you, Dex.”