Wicked Bronze Ambition

50

Moonblight led us to a sitting room where a female servant was setting a table for three. It featured glasses, carafes of wine, and a platter of cheese bits and sausage chunks. I drooled. I was ferociously hungry. And tense. And sore.

I had roamed more than usual in a normal month. And the day was not over yet.

“So, why are you here with a mob instead of. .” She glanced at Barate, chose to turn it off in front of my father-in-law. Barate Algarda might become unpleasant if he was offended.

“The mob’s job is to keep me alive. People have tried to do ugly stuff to me. I came to ask some questions, to see if you’ll help with a couple of things, and to let you know that your sister has been kidnapped. But I imagine you’ve heard about that.”

“I have. An unpleasant visitor brought the news this afternoon. He said that Mariska will be hurt if I keep trying to sabotage the tournament.”

She seemed content with that. I prodded, “And? What else?” There had to be more. I should drag her off to see the Dead Man again.

“I wished him luck. I told him I hoped they had fun. I suggested a few things he could do, mostly on the lines of don’t throw Mariska in the briar patch. He didn’t like my attitude. He got belligerent, so I had Denvers thump him and stuff him in the dustbin out back.”

Was she that sure the villains wouldn’t hurt Mariska? Or did she really not care? “Did you see anything that might help us identify him?”

“I know who he is already. No. Wait. I know what he is. A priest. Orthodox. From the cathedral in the Dream Quarter. I’ve only seen him from a distance there. He never noticed me. This was the first time I ever actually talked to him. He had no idea that I’d seen him before.”

“And you, being a clever girl, didn’t clue him.”

“Yes. Me being a clever woman.”

I must have started to glow. Was there a connection? A priest. Strafa had visited a priest the morning she died. We all assumed that was about the wedding. She and Father Amerigo had issues. But maybe she had gone to see a priest causing difficulties of another kind.

I should put Father Amerigo on my interview list. Or the Dead Man’s, even better.

I needed to remember that Playmate and Penny hadn’t seen Strafa in the Dream Quarter, which proved only that they hadn’t seen her, but it was suggestive.

“Any chance you’d know this priest’s name?”

“None. But a visit to Chattaree Cathedral ought to turn him up. He’s easy to spot. Or describe. He has a huge wen.” She tapped her head.

I wanted to exchange “Aha!” looks with somebody but had to do without. Barate hadn’t been there when the wen got mentioned before. I treated myself to an evil laugh. “I do believe we’ve got one!”

Barate asked, “Got one what?”

“Operator. A guy with a big-ass wen was one of the gobs who commissioned those costumes and the swords we’re going to booby-trap.”

Tara Chayne eyed me like I had just begun to shine with a howling madness.

“Sorry. Listen. That’s the other reason that I came to see you.” She looked hopeful, but only for an instant. “By the way, what do you want to do about your sister?”

Moonblight burned through Tara Chayne Machtkess. “We know where she’s being kept? Good. Let her marinate.”

“Say what?”

“All right. Have somebody keep watch. Rat men would be appropriate. I’ll pay for their time. But let her sit, otherwise. We’ll do something if things start to fall apart for her.”

“That’s really what you want?”

“I’m fine with letting the dumb bitch stew.”

Hardly charitable toward your sister. Not my place to judge, though.

I got busy telling about Flubber Ducky and Trivias Smith, ceremonial costumes and imitation antique swords.

“And you want to sabotage those weapons.”

“Yes. No. Not exactly. Hell. . That’s a good idea. If you could fix it so they’d just bend if you tried to stick somebody. . Ugh.”

I thought I had galloped blind into verbal quicksand. The woman was in no mood to play with it, though. Or she didn’t have a mind as skewed as mine. She said, “Creating a hilt insert to make them traceable can be done. Anything more would be a huge challenge. Barate, how is your mother doing?”

“I’m more optimistic. Her fingers have begun twitching. Ted says that she may be aware.”

“If she’s even halfway conscious, she’ll be back. She’s too strong and too bullheaded for anything less.”

Barate nodded. “She won’t go before she gets even for Strafa, that’s for sure.”

I decided we should get back to the man who had tried to strong-arm Moonblight. Pretty daring, that, going at somebody from high on the Hill. “Lady Machtkess. .”

“Tara Chayne.” She did not simper.

Barate nodded minutely, eyebrows up. He was surprised. Moonblight had accepted me into her in-crowd.

“Tara Chayne, then. Once I’m done here I’m heading home. I’m exhausted. I’ll report to my partner, then collapse. But. . if there is some way you can make yourself do it, could you come with me? He could mine a fortune in information from your encounter with that man. .” I stopped, certain I was wasting my breath. She had let herself be violated once, and that was once too often.

She stood up. “You two get busy on that platter. You must be starving. I’ll be right back.”

She went into the foyer, talked to somebody, I thought Singe. Maybe Dollar Dan, too, then silence, soon followed by whispering.

I asked Barate, “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About everything in general and her in particular.”

“Tara Chayne. She’s letting friendship and a conscience usually in hibernation influence the image she shows the world.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Most Hill folk are better people than you expect, once you know us.”

I stayed shut up. He might smack me if I didn’t agree. And that is a problem with villains. The better you know them, the more you get why they are the way they are. You may actually suffer a sympathetic reaction.

Which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t crack skulls and cut throats anyway. You have to deal with the monster that is, not the victim that was.

Tara Chayne came back. She announced, “I have everything I need to make the tracers. I do wonder, though, who you meant to do the following. You don’t have the talent. Neither does he.”

I hadn’t considered that. I glanced at Barate. He shrugged. “I didn’t think that far ahead. You and Richt Hauser are all we have left.”

“Then I suppose it will have to be me.”

I wondered if I shouldn’t ought to be suspicious. She was awfully cooperative.

People who cooperate enthusiastically usually turn out to be up to no good. They’re trying to con you. But, on the other hand, Moonblight had been into the conspiracy against the tournament before Strafa and I got recruited. And the days since then had delivered us all plenty of motive to get some licks in before the Operators got their production rolling.