the slightest notion what they had discovered by direct examination. Or even if they were studying the castle directly. They could be lying back, afraid they would alert the Dominator to their presence.

One of the men located me in Elmo’s quarters. “Whisper wants you, Croaker.”

I jumped a foot. Guilty conscience. “What for?” I had not seen her for weeks.

“You’ll have to go see. She didn’t say.” He sneered, hoping he would see an officer in the soup. He figured I was in trouble.

He figured that; so did I. I dawdled as much as I dared, but eventually had to present myself. Whisper glared at me as i entered. “You people haven’t found a damned thing down there. What are you doing? Dogging it? Taking a vacation? Well, say something.” “I...”

“Do you know the black castle stopped growing after our raid on the Crater group? No? Why not? You’re supposed to be finding out these things.” “None of the prisoners accounted for the...” “I know that. I know none of them knew who the main body supplier was. But that supplier must have known them. He packed up. There have been just two bodies delivered since. The latest just last night. Why didn’t you know that? Why have you got people in the Buskin? They seem incapable of learning anything.”

Oh, she was in a mood. I said, “Is the deadline close or something? The way I understood it, we wouldn’t be in trouble if only a few bodies were delivered.”

“True. As far as it goes. But we’ve reached a point where a handful might make all the difference.”

I bit my lower lip, tried to look properly chastised, and waited.

She told me: “The Lady is pressing. She’s very nervous. She wants something to happen up here.”

So. As always, the shit rolls downhill. The normal course would be for me to go out and tromp on somebody below me.

“Half the problem is, we don’t know what’s going on.

If you claim you know what the castle is, how it’s growing and so forth, how come you don’t go over and kick it down? Or turn it into grape preserves or something?”

“It’s not that simple.”

It never is. I tend to overlook political ramifications. I am not politically minded.

“Maybe once the rest of your company gets here. The city will have to be controlled. The Duke and his incompetents couldn’t manage that.”

I stood there looking expectant. Sometimes that will con people into telling you more than they plan.

“The city will go up in flames if it’s not buttoned up tight when the truth comes out. Why do you think the Custodians are so determined to keep the Catacombs thing hushed? Several thousand citizens have relatives who went into that monstrosity. That’s a lot of people who’ll get very irate about the souls of loved ones being lost.”

“I see.” I did a little. It took a certain willing suspension of reason, though.

“We’re going at this from a different angle,” she told me. “I’m taking charge of your investigations. Report to me daily. I’ll decide what you’re going to do, and how.

Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Only too well. It was going to get that much more difficult to keep her and Raven apart.

“The first thing you’ll do is set a watch on the castle. And if that doesn’t shake something loose, I’ll send Feather down there. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Again, only too well.

I wondered if Whisper suspected we were working at cross-purposes.

“You can leave. I’ll expect you back tomorrow. With something to report.” “Yes, ma’am.”

I went straight back to Elmo, fuming. He should have faced her, not me. Just because I’d sort of taken over.

I was with Elmo barely long enough to tell him what had happened when a messenger came from Bullock. He wanted to see me right away.

Bullock was another problem. I’d become convinced he was smarter than he put on, and was almost as sure that he suspected we were up to more than we admitted.

I eased into his cubicle in the secret police headquarters. “What’s up?”

“I’ve made a little headway on the Catacombs raid. Result of pure stubborn footwork.”

“Well?” I felt pretty curt about then, and he raised an eyebrow. “Just had a face-to-face with my boss,” I told him, which was as near an apology as I cared to come. “What have you got?”

“A name.”

I waited. Like Elmo, Bullock liked to be coaxed. I was in no mood to play that game.

“I followed up your notion about rented wagons. Turned up the name Asa. A wood-gatherer named Asa was, probably, working through the hole I showed you. A man named Asa spent a number of old coins, but before the raid on the Catacombs. A man named Asa worked for Krage before he and his men disappeared. Everywhere I go, it’s Asa-this or Asa-that.”

“Anything to connect him with the black castle?”

“No. I don’t think he’s a principal in anything. But he must know something.”

I thought back. Bullock had mentioned this name once before, referring to a man who hung around the same place as Raven. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe I ought to find this Asa before anybody else did.

“I’m headed down to the Buskin,” I said. “Direct orders from her holiness. I’ll have Goblin round the guy up.”

Bullock scowled. There had been some ill will when he found out that we had put men into the Buskin without consulting him. “AH right. But don’t play any more fast shuffle with me, eh? Your people and mine aren’t after the same things, but that’s no reason to undermine each other, eh?”

“You’re right. We’re just used to doing things different. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“I’d appredate that.” He eyed me in a way that.said he did not trust me anymore. If ever he had. I left thinking the Company and I were into it deep. Trouble on every hand. Juggling with too many balls in the air. Only we were juggling knives with poisoned edges.

I hustled on down and looked up Goblin, told him about our escalating troubles. He was no happier than Elmo or I.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Juniper

Interrogation

Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not believe it, or did not care.

Then Bullock’s sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his nerves and guilt, went to the man’s table. “How may we serve you, Reverend Sir?”

“Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord.”

Shed lifted an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“I’ll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give away meals.”

“Ain’t it the truth, sir. Ain’t it the truth.”

When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed, “You seem to be doing well, landlord.”

Shed snorted. “We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things. That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp before it gets away.” He donned his sourest face.

The Inquisitor nodded. “Leave the bottle. Let the Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity.”

“I’ll ask no profit, Reverend Sir.”

“Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone else.”

Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left

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