Wicked Bronze Ambition

43

Ted flirted with the dogs all during the short journey to Shadowslinger’s place. He found a friendly side to Number Two that she had hidden from me. “Are you sure that these are feral dogs?”

“They were till they adopted me. They live in the Orthodox cemetery.” I gave him a rundown on them and Little Moo.

“Really? That’s strange. And there was no connection with Strafa?”

“Not according to Constance. And she could tell if anyone could.”

“No doubt. No doubt. I was never that close to her.”

I liked Ted better and better, for no definable reason. He was just a nice, comfortable guy, rather like Strafa had been.

“You were interested in Strafa, weren’t you?”

“I was.” Confessing made him uneasy. “Once upon a time. Barate didn’t approve. She could never defy him.”

“I see.” Best to drop it. Aspects of that were too creepy to discuss.

Ted was ready to let it go, too. He had smelled the same shadows.

Shadowslinger’s place seemed deserted. Ted and I headed upstairs, to the witch’s hide. The dogs and Dollar Dan stayed down, on guard.

I’d never left the ground floor before, but encountered no surprises. Upstairs was as grim as down till we entered Constance’s own bedroom. And that was only slightly better.

Barate Algarda was asleep in a fat chair beside his mother’s bed, troubled even while out. He started awake.

“Garrett. Hi.” Sleepily. “Ted. Excuse me. This is kind of rough.”

“I understand. No problem.”

“Hey! Ted says he thinks she’ll come back.” The ugly old tub of goo lay on her back, upper half slightly elevated, arms and hands lifeless beside her, atop a quilt probably sewn for a pittance by some refugee even older than Shadowslinger herself.

I studied her hands. They were slightly deformed, the way arthritis does. Chronic pain might explain why she was always cranky. Ted and his kind, and magical healers of the quality accessible to someone of Constance’s status, might not be enough to beat that bitch. It was one of those things that could be immune to sorcery.

Some things just naturally are resistant, and some people, too. Penny has the knack, a little. A few metals and minerals disdain or even negate witchery. Iron and silver are the best known.

Still muzzy, Barate asked, “Where is Kevans?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t seen her.”

Ted said, “We didn’t see anyone. No one answered the door. Is she supposed to be here?”

Worried, Barate said, “Kyoga should. And Mash and Bash.”

“They the staff?”

“Mashego and Bashir. Yeah. They live here. They never go out.”

They had gone to Strafa’s to help with the wake, but I got it. Their odd, cadaverous builds, bountiful ritual scars, and religious tattoos would be social liabilities-unless they put on some serious disguises.

They weren’t Karentine. Shadowslinger had brought them home from the war zone. They were male and female, husband and wife, but I wasn’t sure which was which.

Barate jumped up too fast. “We’ve got to. . Crap!” He wobbled, trailed off.

“What?”

“My little girl is a genius, Garrett. But you know she doesn’t have a lick of sense.”

“I can’t argue with that. I’ve got the scars to prove it. But she’s a good kid. She just. .”

“She was whining about having to stay cooped up. She just can’t make the connection between what happened to her mother and something that could happen to her. This stuff isn’t real to her. It can’t happen here.”

At which point his mother’s left forefinger twitched. A quarter of an inch, last joint in the digit. I started to tell Ted, but he was staring at it already, smiling big.

Barate didn’t miss it, either.

Ted peeled back an eyelid. We all watched her pupil respond to the light. Ted muttered, “Most thoroughly excellent.”

I told Barate, “If Kevans is gone she probably went looking for Kip.”

“I hate repeating myself,” Algarda said. “But she has got to realize that she’s never going to beat out the red-haired girl.”

There was nothing encouraging I could say. Kip was as dense as granite when it came to realizing that Kevans wasn’t only his best buddy but also a living, breathing, feeling, female-type girl.

“Are you really worried? I have some rat men with me. They could track her.”

I expected him to wave me off. He was a proud man, stubborn when it wasn’t Constance pushing, likely to think he ought to handle all his problems himself. He surprised me. “You could arrange that? Would it cost much? Maybe I could have them hang around her all the time.”

“Cost? I don’t know. I’d need to ask. You’re sure?”

“We lost Strafa. Mother. . Maybe. I couldn’t take it if Kevans. . Of course I’m sure. I want a flight of guardian angels. What do you call a gang of crows? A murder? That’s what I want. A murder of black-hearted guardian angels, hungry for human flesh.”

“I’m not sure that rat men can meet that level of expectation.”

He grinned. “Then they can just hang around wherever she goes. She won’t notice if they don’t wave and shout.”

“I’ll talk to Dollar Dan.” Dan would milk it, certainly, but he wouldn’t be unreasonable. He would see a chance to make a valuable connection.

Never hurts to have a Shadowslinger in your debt.

“Doctor, I was meaning to ask and got distracted. Could the missing half of that broken quarrel be inside Vicious Min?”

“What?”

The nasty old sorceress twitched again.

Ted grinned again.

“Here’s my thinking.” But before I leapt I asked Barate, “Am I right about you using survey maps to work out where the ballista had to be to make that shot? There couldn’t have been more than one, right?”

“Yes and yes. There had to have been a misdirection spell hiding the ballista, too. You don’t cut somebody down with a monster engine and nobody sees you unless you’re working some heavy concealment sorcery.”

“My thinking exactly. So. Ted. I’m guessing the forensics sorcerers never found that bolt because it’s inside Min. And that’s because Min was the real target, with Strafa as collateral damage.”

“What?” Ted and Barate said that in perfect a cappella harmony.

“Look. Somebody shoots Min. The bolt maybe hits a collarbone, breaks, and the tip half ricochets up to get Strafa.”

Shadowslinger twitched again, now with the fun finger of her left hand. Barate said, “That may fit the facts, but it doesn’t feel right.”

I didn’t think so myself, but only because I wanted Strafa’s death to mean something more than just “shit happens.”

Ted said, “You find the demon, I’ll take a closer look. I thought the wound was through and through, but that was what I expected to see.”

“We’ll find her,” I promised.

Barate settled back into the fat chair. “Go see about covering Kevans.”

“Consider it done. You think Mashego and Bashir could visit the Dead Man?”

“No. Not because he’s what he is. I wouldn’t warn them. But they won’t go out while Mother is laid up. . ” It occurred to him that they were out right now. “They won’t. I’m sure.”

“I understand.”