Wicked Bronze Ambition

9

The Dead Man has multiple minds. He can work on several problems at once and reach some astounding conclusions fast. That’s why he makes such a good partner. His athletic skills are limited, though.

I would like to interview everyone who was in that room this morning. I am sure the request has been anticipated. I am equally certain that it will be refused by most. It may be instructive to see who refuses and their choices of excuses for doing so.

I glanced at Strafa. She shrugged. So beautifully.

You are allowing yourself to become distracted again.

I was. “I can’t help it. Make her stop.”

“Make me stop what?”

“Being you.”

Focus, children.

“Yes, sir.”

To this point this business has been an exercise in intellect. But a Tournament of Swords does become, by design, intensely physical and violent. The mystery is not mysterious, for the most part. The way to abort the Tournament is self-evident. Shadowslinger has begun the process. The question I would pose, then, is, have the Operators anticipated her effort?

I had one of those moments that are all too rare. “They might be looking for us to collect the contenders in one place.”

Probably not the Operators themselves. There was a musing note to his communication, as though he’d just had a new and more disturbing thought. Yes. We must not put our eggs into one basket. Miss Algarda. Strafa, if I may. Please bring your daughter here. Garrett, I want you to round up any members of the Faction that you can find. Ask them to report here, too.

“The Faction? Why?”

The Faction is a kid gang of a remarkable sort. Instead of dimwit thugs, the members are all scary smart and not very physical. Kevans is a key member. Her best friend and my sort of surrogate son, another of my strays, Cypres Prose, was their leader. The Faction are as much misfits as any gangster kids but, again, scary smart. And many come from the Hill.

The Faction would be an ideal talent pool for substitute tournament contestants.

“You sure? None of those kids suffers from ambition. All they want is for grown-ups to leave them alone so they can mess around with strange hobbies and weird research.”

True. To a point. But we have seen bad apples among them before. The prospect of vast power might lure a few to get some exercise. Power hunger belongs to the culture where they were raised.

Was he poking fun my way? That sounded like something I would say. More, it sounded like a subtle commentary on my tendency to remain an object not in motion.

Still. . “Any suggestion on how I get them to come here?”

Lie.

I started to say something about how lying adults were half the reason those kids were strange.

You know them. Tailor something to each ego. Once they have come into range, none of that will matter.

I glanced at Strafa. She had been included. She nodded. She agreed with Himself. “It’s for their own safety, Garrett. I’ll make Kevans come. She’ll bring Kip.” And Kip’s influence would pull in most of the rest.

I might not have to become a major bad guy after all.

Again, and always, we shall have to honor the possibility that our efforts have been anticipated. May, in fact, have been factored into the master plan. Miss Algarda. . Strafa. Are your grandmother and her associates committed to the extent that they might willingly hire bodyguards?

Predictably, the financial conscience of the household chose that moment to appear. Old Bones had been keeping Singe up to date. She said, “We do not have the money to offer protective services at our expense, nor on spec. And those people often fail to honor their financial obligations.”

Strafa said, “I can afford to look out for my daughter. And Kip as well.” And the rest of the Faction, too, honestly. I had not been prepared for just how rich the Algardas actually were, and most of that wealth had somehow settled onto Strafa, maybe because the family had made her life so ugly in other ways.

I had not known about the wealth when I took up with Strafa. She had not mentioned it. In fact, I knew about it now only because Old Bones had seen it inside Strafa’s head and thought that I should know the full truth about my future wife.

I said, “Kip can afford to look out for himself. He’s richer than most gods. The challenge will be to convince him that the danger is real.”

Singe bowed her head slightly. “He will be a hard sell.”

I foresee possible complications in regard to lifeguarding.

“Well, of course it can’t be simple, like we just hire Saucerhead Tharpe and a few thugs and the baddies will leave us be. How will it get complicated?” Both of us denying Singe time to slap on another coat of fiscal doom.

Strafa. Did your grandmother explain about the Dread Companions?

My eyebrows leapt up. Singe’s would have done the same if she’d had eyebrows to set a-leaping. Old Bones hadn’t winkled out every foul little whiff that Strafa had gotten from Shadowslinger already? His levels of consideration and courtesy were unprecedented.

“She mentioned them without giving a clear explanation. I know they’re supernatural allies but not much more.”

How could he not have churned up the mental mud by trampling through the gardens of Strafa’s mind? What was going on with the old psychic hooligan?

“She went on a lot more about plain old Companions. It’s apparently critical to pick someone who can stand up against any pressure. Wouldn’t a Dread Companion sort of be the same thing, only supernatural?”

Not quite. Mortal Companions are chosen by Family Champions. Friends, as you say. And it would be useful if they were trustworthy. However, they are not that critical, overall. Dread Companions are, usually, what the tournaments come to be about.

“Wow,” I said, applying my best verbal, sarcastic sneer. “Them old-timers went to a lot of trouble to make semiorganized mayhem sound all important.”

They did indeed. That would have to do with legitimization and easing of associated guilt.

I am not clear on the complete mechanism. Perhaps no one is. In the earlier tournaments some truly baleful entities, demons, if you prefer, became involved, one Dread Companion for each Mortal Champion. They protected the Champions and did most of the murder. They carried their Champions’ powers and, most times, their lives. A few Champions did not perish when they were defeated, but what was left was never worth keeping alive. The results were always final for the Dread Companions. Their powers were collected, too. I never heard of a definitive reason for their having gotten drawn in. Compulsion must have been central, but the how and why remain mysterious, as does the potential payoff for the demonic victor.

I grumbled, “Come on. This is too freaky.”

“Grandmother did warn me to watch for demons around Kevans. She didn’t think they would be a major threat, though. She says the demon realm is fed up with human incompetence and that any demons who do turn up are likely to be petty gold diggers. Demonic equivalents of purse snatchers, as stupid as your average street thug.”

I asked, “Did I just hear some good news?”

Very much to be hoped. It could be true. The tournament that included Shadowslinger, Bonegrinder, and Moonblight was sufficiently low-key that I was unaware of it until now. Demonic manifestations and supernatural combats, by their nature, tend to be flashy.

“The way I see it, we have tons of information that probably isn’t the right information. We need to figure out what to expect today.”

We could infer that quickly had I access to your grandmother’s mind, Strafa.

“I can ask her. You can guess how likely she is to volunteer to come here.”

Old Bones has tasted and smelled plenty of wickedness in his time, but I wasn’t sure he was ready for Shadowslinger.

Fear not, Garrett. Shadowslinger is more bark and urban legend than she is bite and ugly history. She worked hard to create her legend.

Experience suggested that I trust his judgment. But wow! Grandma was so creepy.

“What do you think, Chuckles? Is it even appropriate for us to get involved? It’s sorted itself out without us every time before.”

He inserted visions of faces into my consciousness, starting with Kip Prose and Kevans Algarda. He followed up with a real-time look at Strafa glaring at me in disbelief.

“Are you deaf as well as dim, love? There isn’t any free will involved. We’re in whether we like it or not. We were in before Grandmother asked you to poke around. Please think.”

Wow.

You see?

“I see. So, what do you think our course should be?”

Not entirely what your future family seems to be hoping. This would be my personal suggestion, given four centuries of experience.

He did not include Strafa in what followed.

Old Bones thought I ought to take it outside the family.

He went back to a point he had made earlier, now in more detail.

I told you we have resources unique to the modern age. I posit that, as such, they have not been taken into account by the Operators.

“Huh?” Whatever he was on about, it hadn’t come clear to me, either.

The Unpublished Committee. This is the sort of thing that it was created to handle.

“Yes! Ha!” I laughed out loud. He was absolutely correct. I might be able to abort the entire tournament horror show with one office visit, if I could be convincing. “Deal Relway will jump all over this!”