and if I didn’t, the housekeeper shouldn’t have to bother on my account. I wore dark clothes that, I hoped, would seem like formal evening wear at a distance, but would allow me to hide in the shadows if needed.
I slipped through the crowded, smoky tavern without being noticed and went into the stables. The boys had finished feeding and grooming the guests’ horses for the evening and gone off to do whatever stable hands do after work.
My stolen ride stood patiently in her stall. The dim light from scattered oil lamps turned her a deep chocolate color. She tossed her head slightly when I put the saddle on her back, but made no protest when I cinched it tight. I pulled the bridle over her head, and she accepted the bit without complaint.
I looked into her eyes. For the first time with any horse, I didn’t get that frisson of alien, vaguely malicious intelligence. “You’re a pretty good girl, aren’t you?” I said as I stroked her face. “Hope you like being with me, because I don’t think you’ll ever find your way back to those border raiders in Pema. I guess if we’re going to keep working together, I really should give you a name.”
She gently tossed her head in what truly seemed like agreement.
“I’ve never named a horse before. Let’s see… I guess I should base it on some quality you have. You’re patient, you’re smart, you’re loyal… hm, ‘Loyola’?”
The horse just looked at me as if I was an idiot.
“You’re right. What if we shortened it to ‘Lola’?”
I swear the animal cocked her head as if thinking about it, then whinnied and stepped forward to rub her snout against my cheek.
“Lola it is, then,” I said as I swung my leg over her back. “Hope I’m still around tomorrow to introduce you to people.”
I’d memorized the route from the map in Bernie’s office. I rode Lola though the dark streets toward Brillion Hill, doubling back several times to make sure I wasn’t trailed by either Bernie or someone connected with Canino. Foot traffic thinned out as I neared the mansion district, and once I reached it I passed only closed buggies delivering the scions of these wealthy families to ritzy galas. I heard music and crowds behind some of the massive privacy walls, while others remained mysterious and silent.
The small castles and newer houses on Brillion Hill reflected the world of my own childhood. I’d been one of those decked-out rich kids living from party to party. I could dance, use the right fork at a lavish dinner, negotiate a wine list and play a passable piano. My partner in crime had been the ultimate cool dude, Crown Prince Phil. And for a while, my girlfriend had been the delectable Princess Janet. At that moment, though, it seemed no more real than some book I’d once read.
I passed numerous huge, ancient gates before I reached the one that bore the number Tanko had written down. Through the heavy iron bars I saw a three-story house, newer but not really new, behind the tall trees. The grounds grew thick with flowering bushes, and I recalled Spike’s comment that Canino always brought back fresh flowers from his visits to the boss. Only a single light gleamed in one window; no galas tonight for the Dwarf, apparently. The gate looked solid, and its lock mechanism appeared in good shape. There was a gatehouse, but it was unmanned.
Only after I’d absorbed all this did the gate’s design register. The bars were decorated in the shape of a giant horseshoe, upside down so the luck wouldn’t spill. I almost laughed.
A buggy approached as I took in the sight. I rode on as if still searching for the right address. Lola’s hooves clopped on the cobblestone road as we passed two other homes. When the traffic finally disappeared and I had the street to myself for a moment, I stopped and slid quietly to the ground. I led Lola into the shadows beneath a thick, ancient oak branch that stretched over an estate wall and almost across the entire street. I tied her to the lowest limb, and if she stayed still and quiet, she’d be invisible until dawn.
I pulled the brand-new Edgemaster Series 3 dark-steel sword from the saddle and strapped the scabbard across my back. The trusty Fireblade had served me well, but its blade was far too shiny for night work. I’d picked up the new sword earlier that day, and although taking an untried weapon into combat was a beginner’s mistake, there’d been no time to break it in. I waited while more buggies passed. Then, ducking from shadow to shadow, I returned to the gate.
I lingered in the dark beside the gatehouse for a long time, listening for any movement on the grounds behind the wall. Crickets and mosquitoes, uncaring of social status, went about their business here just as they did among the common folk at the bottom of the hill. Two carriages passed on the street, one silent and one full of giggling debutantes. I heard nothing from the house or the surroundings.
There was no reason to prolong this. I crouched by the gatehouse door and picked the lock with more speed and silence than I could’ve managed on the gate itself. I slipped into the tiny building, then through the opposite door and onto the estate grounds. I ducked behind a tree near the wall and again waited for any sign I’d been spotted.
I could see the layout better from here as well. The driveway led in a graceful arc to a carriage house where guests could disembark with no fear of the weather. The main building’s first story boasted towering windows that opened directly onto the front porch, but were now closed and draped into darkness. Upstairs that single dim light still burned in one window, but I couldn’t see its source. A buggy passed on the street just over the wall behind me, and the noise echoed in the silence.
It certainly didn’t seem like the hideout of a criminal mastermind. No guards, no vicious dogs, barely even a lock. I wondered if, like Lonnie, Tanko had rushed to warn them I was coming. More likely he’d given me the wrong address just to get us out of his office.
I moved from tree to tree, each time closer to the house. There was a small, narrow moat around it that was likely a holdover from its pioneer days. Anyone not weighed down by armor could easily leap it, and small foot bridges crossed it at several places. The water in it was dark, and its surface sparkled just enough to tell me it was flowing, however slightly. I crouched in the bushes beside the carriage house and was contemplating forcing a window open, when I heard the distinct sound of splashing in the moat behind the house.
It took several minutes of dodging from one bush to another to reach the rear wall of the estate. Torches lit the back of the house where a patio had been added, but I couldn’t see over the rows of damn hedges that formed a small, shoulder-high topiary maze.
At the very back of the yard, a gigantic old blackjack oak towered over the newer trees that had been landscaped in. These oaks usually lived on gnarled rock outcroppings overlooking the ocean, which Brillion Hill had once been before men built things all over it. To have grown this large, this one must’ve been spared from the original clearing, because I’d never seen one with a trunk this thick. Wincing at every faint crackle of bark and creak of branch, I hoisted myself into the tree and climbed high enough to get a wide, unobstructed view.
A section of the moat had been enlarged to form a kind of swimming pool. A lone figure traversed it with awkward, uncertain strokes. The swimmer was small like a kid, but lacked a child’s pale pudginess. This character seemed lean, tanned and somehow elderly. His exertions reeked of desperate effort, but he wasn’t drowning. He methodically reached one side of the moat, turned and started back. At this distance I couldn’t make out his face.
A door opened, and my old friend Canino emerged from the dark house. He wore pale slacks and a pink tunic with rolled-up sleeves. He was barefoot and carried a tall tankard. I heard his voice clearly over the swimmer’s splashing.
“The ledgers for this month are on your desk. Kandinsky was short again; I’ll pay him a visit.”
The figure in the moat bobbed up and down, struggling to tread water. “His daughter is around fifteen now, isn’t she? Use her virginity as leverage, if she’s still got it. I can’t ignore that kind of shoddy management.”
Canino sipped his drink. “How do you know he’s not doing it deliberately?”
The figure in the water swam to the edge of the pool at Canino’s feet. “Because he’s the latest in a long line of idiots named Kandinsky.”
“Then why do you still use him?”
“Because I know him. He completely lacks the capacity to surprise me. His grandfather tried to cheat me once, and I made sure his child-fathering days were over. His father spent ten years in prison for trying to fix an election against the guy I was backing. I’ve seen him grow up, and I know fear of me keeps him honest. Too bad it can’t make him any smarter. Give me a hand out of here, will you?”
Canino put his drink on a table and reached for the offered hand. He pulled the swimmer from the pool, and I got a rush of alternating terror and excitement.
