was going to be more than usually difficult.
The Osterman Gate is an ancient crystal amulet the size of an elephant, and the only dimensional gateway in the Nightside that leads directly to Shadows Fall; that remarkable little town in the back of beyond where legends go to die, when the world stops believing in them. And now, it seemed, home to the elven Court in exile. Normally, you got to Shadows Fall by the Underground rail system, but Walker's people would have all the stations staked out by now. Along with the Street of the Gods, the World Beneath, and all the other subterranean routes and hidden paths. Walker was nothing if not thorough. So, unfortunately, all that remained was the most dangerous route of all. The roads.
There are many roads leading in and out of the Nightside, and wise people have nothing at all to do with them. The traffic that roars up and down our streets hardly ever stops, and it's better that way for everyone. There are cars and trucks, ambulance chasers and motorcycle messengers, horse-drawn equipages and futuristic vehicles that often don't have wheels or windows or any regard for the rules of the road. Every single one of them in a hell of a hurry to get where it's going, usually to somewhere even stranger and more dangerous than the Nightside.
Ambulances that run on distilled suffering, ice wagons that carry blocks of frozen holy water, and ghost trams that stop for no man. Articulated vehicles as long as city blocks carrying hazardous and forbidden materials, silent hearses carrying the kind of cargo that has to be fought back into its coffin at regular intervals; and not everything that looks like a car is a car. There are things in the traffic that feed on slower things. Sometimes I look at the main roads, and I don't see traffic; I see a jungle on wheels.
Which is why no-one with any sense uses the roads unless he absolutely has to.
I don't own a car. I have my own ways of getting places. But when I do need one, I throw myself on the kindness of strange friends. I got out my phone and called Dead Boy. An old friend and occasional partner in crime, Dead Boy owned a truly magnificent car that had strayed into the Nightside from some future time-line. It could beat up anything on four wheels, and had never even heard of road safety. But after I waited patiently through the dialling chant, all I got was Dead Boy's usual recorded message.
'Hi. I'm dead. Call back later.'
So I frowned, tapped my foot thoughtfully, and considered who else might be available and up for a little motorised mayhem. It wasn't a terribly long list, and it didn't take me long to get to the bottom. I sighed and entered the number for Ms. Fate; the Nightside's very own transvestite crime-fighter. A man who dressed up as a super-heroine to kick the crap out of bad guys. She's actually very good at it; and she has a really remarkable car. It's just that I find her continual bright-eyed girl-guide enthusiasm somewhat trying…
'Hi, John!' she said, her voice rich and warm as always. 'In trouble again, are we?'
'How did you know?' I said, a bit suspiciously. 'John, my phone is preprogrammed to recognise your voice. It sets off all sorts of warning bells and a siren, because let's face it, sweetie, you're always in some kind of trouble.'
'How would you like to drive me and my elven client from one side of the Nightside to the other, all the way to the Osterman Gate, almost certainly fighting off attacks by assorted bad guys from beginning to end, and help prevent a major war into the bargain?'
She laughed. 'You always did know how to show a girl a good time. Did you say… elven?'
'Yes. Don't ask me to explain, or I'll start to whimper. It's complicated.'
'My fee just doubled. Shall we say… twenty per cent of what you're getting?'
I grinned. 'I don't have any problem with that.'
'Fabulous, darling! I'll slip a few extra nasty tricks into my utility belt, fire up the Fatemobile, and be with you in two shakes of the best false boobies money can buy.'
There wasn't anything I felt like saying in response to that, so I shut down my phone. I was about to put it away when it rang. I looked at it for a moment. Sometimes you just have a feeling… I answered the phone, holding it a cautious distance away from my ear.
'This had better not be who I think it is.'
'John, dear boy, this is Walker. You need to stop what you're doing and go home, right now. This is none of your business.'
'He's my client,' I said. I didn't know how Walker knew I was involved with the putative Lord Screech; but then, Walker knows everything. I think that's actually part of his job description. Along with keeping the peace and enforcing the status quo in the Nightside by any and all means necessary. Either way, he should have known better than to give me orders.
'You can get other clients,' Walker said reasonably. 'Walk away, John. I've already signed the elf's death warrant. I'd hate to have to sign another.'
That was Walker for you. He might or might not hate to do it; but he'd do it. Walker was all about getting the job done.
'You know I never let a client down,' I said.
'Of course, dear boy. I'm only keeping you talking so my people can pinpoint your current location… John? What are you doing back at the Dragon's Mouth?'
There was something in his voice. It might have been concern; but you can never be sure with Walker.
'I'm fine,' I said. 'The client chose the meeting place.'
'Typical elf. He knew what it meant to you. Yet another reason why you shouldn't trust him. I know you pride yourself on being loyal to your clients, John, but he won't be loyal to you. He can't. He's an elf.'
'The principle still stands,' I said. 'I don't have many, so I have to stick with what I've got. We're off on a little road trip, Walker, off to see the worlds. Try and keep up.'
'This is no joke, John. I've been forced to take on some really serious people, to see this through.'
'Send the best you've got,' I said. 'And I'll send them home crying for their mothers.'
Walker sighed into my ear, like a parent disappointed by a stubborn child. 'You've been listening to the elf, haven't you, John? You know you can't trust anything an elf says. I am the only one who knows what's really going on here.'
'Doesn't matter,' I said. 'If he's on the opposite side to you, I must be doing the right thing.'
'All these years of butting heads,' said Walker. 'And you haven't learned a damned thing.'
The phone went dead. I looked at it for a moment, to see if anyone else felt like calling and sticking their oar in, then I put the phone away. Of course I knew Lord Screech couldn't be trusted. He was an elf. But I'd given him my word, and my word was good. I looked up and down the street. Ms. Fate had better get a move on. Walker hadn't been joking about pinpointing my position through my phone.
There wasn't anywhere handy I could use as a shelter. The clubs and bars in this part of town were so down-market, the bouncers were outside chucking them in, and they forced you to order your drinks at gunpoint. And there was no way I was going back into the Dragon's Mouth.
'Is there any particular reason why you're ignoring me?' said Lord Screech.
'Because I'll get lied to less that way,' I said, not looking at the elf. 'I know all I need to know.'
'Walker was quite right. Never trust anything an elf tells you. We always lie-except when a truth can hurt you more. Or when the truth can be made to serve our best interests over yours. I don't care about you, or Walker, or any other human, except where you can help or hinder my mission.'
I didn't ask how he knew it was Walker on the phone.
'If you're trying to be disarming, it isn't working,' I said. 'And don't even try to be charming. I've got protections against that.'
'Why are you helping me, John Taylor? When you know you should know better?'
I looked at him for the first time. 'Because I'm intrigued. And not by the terrible secret you've offered as payment, whatever it may or may not turn out to be. I've spent my whole life dealing with terrible secrets. No, what intrigues me is why a high-and-mighty elf lord should endanger himself by coming to the Nightside, then beg help from a human. Even one as special as me. So I'll go along with you, do my best to get you to where you need to be… and no doubt your true purpose will become clear along the way.'
'I wouldn't put money on it,' the elf said cheerfully.
Perhaps fortunately, we were interrupted at that point by the approaching roar of a powerful engine. We both looked round and stepped back a little as the Fatemobile surged out of the traffic and slammed to a halt right in front of us. On every side, hardened sinners on their way to infamous dens of iniquity stopped, to get a better look
