Amazing. Utterly amazing. Goblin never gets mad. He gets even. Then One-Eye will put his twisted mind to work again. If Goblin is even, One-Eye figures he’s behind.
“Settle that down before it gets out of hand,” the Captain said.
Elmo and I got between the antagonists. This thing was disturbing. Goblin’s threats were serious. One-Eye had caught him in a bad temper, the first I’d ever seen. “Ease up,” I told One-Eye.
He stopped. He, too, smelled trouble.
Several men growled. Some heavy bets were down. Usually, nobody will put a copper on One-Eye. Goblin coming out on top is a sure thing, but this time he looked feeble. Goblin did not want to quit. Did not want to play the usual rules, either. He snatched a fallen sword and headed for One-Eye. I couldn’t help grinning. That sword was huge and broken, and Goblin was so small, yet so ferocious, that he seemed a caricature. A bloodthirsty caricature. Elmo couldn’t handle him. I signaled for help. Some quick thinker splashed water on Goblin’s back. He whirled, cussing, started a deadly spell.
Trouble for sure. A dozen men jumped in. Somebody threw another bucket of water. That cooled Goblin’s temper. As we relieved him of the blade, he looked abashed. Defiant, but abashed.
I led him back to the fire and settled beside him. “What’s the matter? What happened?” I glimpsed the Captain from the corner of my eye. One-Eye stood before him, drained by a heavy-duty dressing down.
“I don’t know, Croaker.” Goblin slumped, stared into the fire. “Suddenly everything was too much. This ambush tonight. Same old thing. There’s always another province, always more Rebels. They breed like maggots in a cowpie. I’m getting older and older, and I haven’t done anything to make a better world. In fact, if you backed off to look at it, we’ve all made it worse.” He shook his head. “That isn’t right. Not what I want to say. But I don’t know how to say it any better.”
“Must be an epidemic.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Thinking out loud.” Elmo. Myself. Goblin. A lot of the men, judging by their tenor lately. Something was wrong in the Black Company. I had suspicions, but wasn’t ready to analyze. Too depressing.
“What we need is a challenge,” I suggested. “We haven’t stretched ourselves since Charm.” Which was a half-truth. An operation which compelled us to become totally involved in staying alive might be a prescription for symptoms, but was no remedy for causes. As a physician, I was not fond of treating symptoms alone. They could recur indefinitely. The disease itself had to be attacked.
“What we need,” Goblin said in a voice so soft it almost vanished in the crackle of the flames, “is a cause we can believe in.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That, too.”
From outside came the startled, outraged cries of prisoners discovering that they were to fill the graves they had dug.
Chapter Nine
Juniper
Death pays
Shed grew increasingly frightened as the days passed. He had to get some money. Krage was spreading the word. He was to be made an example.
He recognized the tactic. Krage wanted to scare him into signing the Lily over. The place wasn’t much, but it was damned sure worth more than he owed. Krage would resell it for several times his investment. Or turn it into whore cribs. And Marron Shed and his mother would be in the streets, with winter’s deadly laughter howling in their faces.
Kill somebody, Krage had said. Rob somebody. Shed considered both. He would do anything to keep the Lily and protect his mother.
If he could just get real customers! He got nothing but one-night chiselers and scroungers. He needed residential regulars. But he could not get those without fixing the place up. And that he couldn’t do without money.
Asa rolled through the doorway. Pale and frightened, he scuttled to the counter. “Find a wood supply yet?” Shed asked.
The little man shook his head, slid two gersh across the counter. “Give me a drink.”
Shed scooped the coins into his box. One did not question money’s provenance. It had no memory. He poured a full measure. Asa reached eagerly.
“Oh, no,” Shed said. “Tell me about it.”
“Come on, Shed. I paid you.”
“Sure. And I’ll deliver when you tell me why you’re so rocky.”
“Where’s that Raven?”
“Upstairs. Sleeping.” Raven had been out all night.
Asa shook a little more. “Give me that, Shed.”
“Talk.”
“All right. Krage and Red grabbed me. They wanted to
know about Raven.”
So Shed knew how Asa had come by money. He had tried to sell Raven. “Tell me more.”
“They just wanted to know about him.”
“What did they want to know?”
“If he ever goes out.”
“Why?”
Asa stalled. Shed pulled the mug away. “All right. They had two men watching him. They disappeared. Nobody knows anything.
Krage is furious.” Shed let him have the wine. He drained it in a single gulp.
Shed glanced toward the stair, shuddered. Maybe he had underestimated Raven. “What did Krage say about me?”
“Sure could use another mug, Shed.”
“I’ll give you a mug. Over the noggin.”
“I don’t need you, Shed. I made a connection. I can sleep over to Krage’s any time I want.”
Shed grunted, made a mask of his face. “You win.” He poured wine.
“He’s going to put you out of business, Shed. Whatever it takes. He’s decided you’re in it with Raven.” Wicked little smile. “Only he can’t figure where you got the guts to buck him.”
“I’m not. I don’t have anything to do with Raven, Asa. You know that.”
Asa enjoyed his moment. “I tried to tell Krage, Shed.
He didn’t want to hear it.”
“Drink your wine and get out, Asa.”
“Shed?” The old whine filled Asa’s voice.
“You heard me. Out. Back to your new friends. See how long they have a use for you.”
“Shed!...”
“They’ll throw you back into the street, Asa. Right beside me and Mom. Git, you bloodsucker.”
Asa downed his wine and fled, shoulders tight against his neck. He had tasted the truth of Shed’s words. His association with Krage would be fragile and brief.
Shed tried to warn Raven. Raven ignored him. Shed polished mugs, watched Raven chatter with Darling in the utter silence of sign language, and tried to imagine some way of making a hit in the upper city. Usually he spent these early hours eying Darling and trying to imagine a way to gain access, but lately sheer terror of the street had abolished his customary randiness.
A cry like that of a hog with a cut throat came from upstairs. “Mother!” Shed took the stairs two steps at a time.
His mother stood in the doorway of the big bunkroom, panting. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
