Wicked Bronze Ambition

48

It would be full dark soon. The dogs were nervous and hung closer than during brighter times. They were far from familiar ground when the time of greatest danger was approaching.

As a stray you had only what protection you could invent for yourself. Darkness could harbor dangers day walkers never noticed.

Undead mutts? Vampire pups? Doubtful, that. But maybe nocturnal predatory thunder lizards. Thunder lizards have become uncommon in the city, but we still sometimes hear of incidents outside the busier districts, especially at night. Mutilated carcasses turn up, savaged by something bigger than rats.

Singe intercepted us as we neared the Hill, in company with the balance of Dollar Dan’s crew. She was worn out but not yet complaining. She fell in beside me, brought me up to date on all the successful arrests. Elona Muriat alone remained sullenly unimpressed by Deal Relway and refused all cooperation. Preston Womble, on the other hand, could not shut up despite having almost nothing to say. He had had an epiphany. He had become born again. He was trying to bring his partner into alignment with the new law-and-order facts of life.

Singe asked, “You do realize that you are being watched, tracked, and studied by the Specials, don’t you?”

“I haven’t paid much attention, but I don’t expect to operate in a full vacuum. Do we know who hired brother Tribune?”

A drop of moisture hit my cheek. The rain would not hold off much longer.

“No. But they have not yet threatened him with soap and water.” She made a rude noise after stumbling over a nervous dog who wanted to stay really close. “The Director means to let you work while counting every breath.”

“Doing his job for him.”

“More like he wants to see what you will stir off the bottom of the cesspool.”

“And Kevans? Any word on her?”

That was exactly what Barate and I had thought it would be. Kevans had gone looking for Kip Prose. She had hung around with him till Kyra’s scowls and boredom reminded her that she had an obligation at Grandma’s house. She remained unconcerned about her own safety.

The rat men now watching over her had not attracted any attention.

They also reported that she had had other watchers already, now chased away.

Their description was vague, because it came from rat men, but it was intriguing. An attractive pair of youngsters, the girl a young man’s fancy while the boy was a father’s nightmare.

I exchanged looks with Barate. He said what I was thinking. “A Champion and Mortal Companion.”

“Know anyone who fits the description?”

The rat men did smells better than visuals. Smells. . We would have to have those two sniffed out.

How might I leverage those two into the Director’s embrace?

Other trackers had determined that the little blonde and her sidekick moved between several hiding places on scattered rooftops. They had a knack for disappearing not only visually but nasally, but not indefinitely. They could not long elude a determined team of rat men.

We also got a fix on Moonslight, though the severity of her durance seemed questionable. The rat men thought she was more a reluctant guest than a prisoner, and might not have been confused with her sister at all.

Singe opined, “They will exercise deference whichever sister they have. Any wickedness could come back a thousandfold should their employer lose courage or have a change of heart.”

That side of our system irks me. It might never even occur to a victim to savage the man who gave the orders, if he was of noble standing, but woe be unto his hirelings, who were only in it to make a living.

“Garrett?”

“Huh?” So. There I was, gone again, this time yearning toward Relway’s ideology.

Singe suggested, “There is another possibility.”

“Which is?”

“That they only want to keep her from interfering if they do think that they have Moonblight.”

“That would mean that somebody knows Moonblight wants to sabotage the tournament.” It occurred to me then that it didn’t matter which Machtkess the villains had, that being the case. Either would provide leverage and leave Richt Hauser as the last high-power enemy of the Operators.

Was Shadowslinger’s condition the result of hostile action?

I broached the possibility to Mashego, who seemed to grow slighter and less obtrusive as the day faded. “I will think about that,” she promised.

As would I. And I would try profiling the minds behind the tournament. I had a hope that I did not consider even slightly forlorn: The Operators, by nature, must be discounting, even disdaining, Mr. Furious Tide of Light.

The Garrett beast was, after all, a no-account, bottom-feeding, common-as-it-gets, blood-sucking nothing. A flea.

God, or Gods, Above and Below, let their minds be locked into that way of thinking.

It wouldn’t take long to gobble that kind down.

I tripped over Brownie. “Damn it, girls! Spread out!”

The dogs did so, with no enthusiasm, and only for a few minutes.