The Silver spike (27 page)

They rallied a mob and went after Gossamer and Spidersilk. This
time the attackers broke through. They exterminated the bodyguard
force. One of the twins was injured, maybe killed. The entire
center of the city seemed to be afire. And total madness spread
with the news. It got so it seemed everyone in the city was trying
to murder someone else.

The crowd of wizards turned on one another.

Chaos had not trespassed much in the neighborhood of the Skull
and Crossbones earlier. But now it came creeping in with a crash
and a clash and a scream.

Smeds said, “We got to get out of here.”

Fish surprised him by agreeing. “You’re right.
Before it gets impossible. Let’s grab our stuff.”

Tully was too worn out to do anything but go along.

The other hangers-on watched them dully as they slipped out.
Half an hour later, without serious misadventure, they had
established themselves in the dark murk of a partly collapsed
basement barely a hundred yards from the place where Timmy Locan
had died.

The madness had no hunger for that part of Oar already gnawed to
the bone by the Limper’s passage.

Bomanz was bad worried. “There’s no limit to the
insanity out there. If they keep on they’ll continue till
there’s only one man left standing.”

Raven cracked, “Let’s make sure that’s
us.”

We had hidden ourselves in the bell tower of an old temple less
than a bow shot from the Civil Palace. If I wanted I could peek out
and watch the place burn. We didn’t let anybody know where we
were going to hide out. So far, thanks to the old wizard, nobody
had tripped over us.

“You think it’s the spike’s fault?” I
asked.

“Its influence. And the more evil done around it, the
thicker the miasma of madness will get.”

So why weren’t we busting our knuckles on somebody?

Darling was upset about what was happening. Far as I could tell,
she was the only one. The rest of us was just scared of it, just
wanted to stay out of the way till it burned itself out.

She would have done something if she could.

I asked, “So what we going to do? Sit?” I was
thinking how the craziness must have ruined the quarantine on the
cholera area.

“You got a better idea?” Raven asked.

“No.”

Them that had gone out looking the other night hadn’t
found nothing. Only good thing turned out to be I got to spend a
couple hours talking to Darling without Silent and Raven giving me
the evil eye.

“But I feel like the buzzard who got so tired of waiting
for something to die he went to thinking about killing
something.”

Bomanz said, “We need to decide what to do if
there’s a breakout. You can bet if there is the people who
know about the spike will be the first ones gone.”

“Everyone will know if it starts moving, won’t
they?”

“They wouldn’t move it. Why should they? It’s
safe. Or somebody would have found it. They’ll just be
worried about staying alive till they can sell it.”

“What makes you think they want to sell?” I
asked.

“If they could use it they would have.”

Made sense. That’s the way bandits would work. “So
why haven’t they tried to hawk it?”

“Because all these assholes here think they can take it
away from them and outrun each other.”

I decided to take a nap. Talk was getting us nowhere. We
weren’t doing nothing but yak and wait on the Plain critters
to drop by with reports. When the spirit moved them. They
don’t think like us. Some got no sense of time at all.

Which is maybe why Donkey Torque sounded so damned surprised
after he took a look outside. “You guys better take a gander
here.”

We crowded around him.

We had us a whole new angle on all our troubles. Everybody
did.

A new gang had come to town.

A black coach had just rolled into the square in front of the
Civil Palace. Four black horses pulled it. Six black riders on six
black horses surrounded it. An infantry battalion followed.
Surprise. Those boys were all duded up in black.

“Where the hell did they come from?” I muttered.

Raven said, “You got your wish, wizard.”

“Eh?”

“The Tower has taken an interest.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Darling. I scrunched over so she
could get up beside me and see. She left her hand where it was. You
can guess how many friends that made me.

Someone got out of the coach. No black for this clown. “A
popinjay,” Bomanz said.

And me, “I always wondered what that meant.”

The peacock looked around at the bodies, at the remains of the
palace, said something to one of his outriders. The horseman rode
up the steps and into the unburned part of the building. A minute
later people started tumbling out. The other riders herded them
together facing the clown.

Gossamer and Spidersilk came out. A rider chivied them toward
his boss. “Called on the carpet,” Bomanz said.
“Be interesting to hear that.”

There wasn’t no doubt who was senior to who down there.
The twins did everything but get down on their bellies. A back and
forth went on for maybe ten minutes. Then the twins started sending
their people scurrying off.

“What now?” Raven muttered. Next thing the peacock
did was set up housekeeping in the only undamaged building in the
neighborhood. The temple. Downstairs. We was stuck.

People started coming to see the new nabob. Brigadier Wildbrand
was one of the first. The Nightstalkers had not been involved in
any of the fighting so far.

The chaos died away for a few hours while the madmen of Oar
digested the news about the new boy in town. Then it blazed up,
white-hot.

But it died out, spent, before sundown.

We got the word well after dark, knew why it had gotten
quiet.

The Limper was headed for Oar, bent on grabbing the silver
spike.

Oar was not going to let him have it. According to Exile, the
new man from the Tower.

“Shit,” I muttered. “That Limper has more
lives than a cat.”

“I knew we should have made sure of him,” Raven
growled. He glared at Darling. Her fault. She had been so sure she
had seen no need to argue with the tree god.

Exile had orders to hold Oar and destroy the Limper. Our spies
said he meant to do that if it cost every life in the city.

Shit. The Tower would have to send some guy who took his job
serious.

Smeds woke first. Before he had his wits in hand he knew there
was something wrong.

Tully was gone.

Maybe he had to go take a leak.

Smeds scrambled out into the unexpected brightness of morning.
No sign of Tully. But the nearby street, unused in recent times,
was choked with traffic. Every vehicle carried corpses.

Smeds gaped. Then he ducked back down into the ruined cellar and
found Fish, shook him till he growled, “What the hell is the
matter?”

“Tully’s gone. And you got to see what’s
outside to believe it.”

“That idiot.” Fish was wide-awake now. “All
right. Get your shit. We got to move just so he don’t know
where to find us.”

“Hunh?”

“I’ve run out of trust for Cousin Tully, Smeds. I
want to know where he is, not the other way around. A man who can
lose a fortune the way he did? That’s stupid to the point of
being suicidal. A man who gets over a fit of common sense as fast
as he did and goes sneaking off with this city the way it is?
I’m pretty close to the end of my patience. Every stunt he
pulls puts us all at risk. If he’s screwed
up . . . I don’t know.”

“Go look outside.”

Fish went. “Damn!” He came back. “We have to
find out what’s happening.”

“That’s obvious. They’re using that landfill
to dump bodies from the riots.”

“You missed the point. Who thought that up and got all
those people to work on it? When we crawled in here they were
trying to rip each other’s throats out.”

They soon discovered that the chaos had not so much died as gone
into momentary remission. And not universally. There were hot
spots, most surrounding wizards reluctant to embrace a new order
that had come in overnight

The twins from Charm were out and somebody called Exile was in.
And Oar was supposed to be girding for another visit from the
Limper.

“Things are getting crazy,” Smeds said as they
approached the Skull and Crossbones.

“There’s an understatement if ever I heard
one.”

Their landlord seemed disappointed that they hadn’t been
killed in the riots. No. He hadn’t seen Tully since
he’d wanted breakfast and had stormed out because he
couldn’t get credit. Wasn’t anything to fix,
anyway.

“You got nothing?” Smeds asked.

“I got a dried-out third of a loaf I’m gonna soak in
water and have for supper. You want to dig around in the cellar you
might find a couple of rats. I’ll roast them up for
you.”

Smeds believed him. “Tully didn’t happen to say
where he was headed, did he?”

“No. He turned right when he left out.”

“Thanks,” Fish said. He started toward the
street.

The landlord asked, “You heard about the
re-ward?”

“What reward?” Smeds asked.

“For that silver spike thing all the commotion’s
supposed to be about. The new guy says he’ll give a hundred
thousand obols, no questions asked, no tricks, no risks. Just take
it in and get the money.”

“Damn-O!” Fish said. “A guy could live pretty
good, couldn’t he? Wish to hell I had it.”

Smeds grumbled, “You was to ask me, there ain’t no
such thing. All them witches and wizards would have found it if
there was. Come on, Fish. I got to find that shithead cousin of
mine.”

Outside, Fish asked, “You think he’d try
something?”

“Yeah, if he heard. He’d figure we deserve to get
screwed on account of we been treating him so bad. Only he
don’t know where it’s at. So he’ll have to make
up his mind if he can sell me to the torturers.”

“I think he can. Without remorse. There isn’t really
anyone in this world who really matters except Tully Stahl. He
probably started out just figuring to use us, then get rid of us
one by one. Only things didn’t go as simple as he thought
they would.”

“You’re maybe right,” Smeds admitted.
“Guess we got to assume he’s going to sell us out,
don’t we?”

“We’d be fools to give him the benefit of the doubt.
You know his habits and hangouts. Look for him. I’ll find out
where Exile holes up and wait for him to show up there.”

“What if he’s
already . . . ?”

“Then we’re screwed. Aren’t we?”

“Yeah. Hey. What about we sell this guy the spike? A
hundred thousand ain’t bad. I can’t even count that
high.”

“It’s good. But if the situation is what they
say—the Limper coming back—they’ll go way higher.
Let’s let it ride a couple days.”

Smeds did not argue but thought they ought to get what they
could while they could get it. “I’ll catch up if I
can’t find him.”

Fish grunted and walked off.

Smeds began his rounds. He crossed Tully’s trail several
times. The spike was all the talk everywhere he went. Tully had to
know about the reward. He wasn’t running to Exile. That was a
good sign. Except . . . 

Except that a dozen independents had let out that they would go
higher than Exile. A witch named Teebank had offered a hundred
fifty thousand.

Smeds believed none of them except Exile. He had seen them when
the hunt had been a race between thieves. They wouldn’t
change. They would talk mountains of obols but the payoff, when it
came, would be death.

But Tully had that knack for deceiving himself. He might decide
they were legitimately offering. Or he might fool himself into
thinking he could outwit them. He had an inflated opinion of his
own guile.

Smeds soon concluded that the pattern of Tully’s movements
indicated he was looking for someone.

Likely one of those fabulous purses.

He had no regard left for his cousin.

The evidence suggested Tully was gaining no ground on his
quarry. Smeds was, though. He wondered if Tully was getting
nervous, knowing they would be after him as soon as they knew he
was gone.

Probably.

Smeds caught up but the situation was not suited to the
confrontation he had been rehearsing for hours.

He was moving along a street unnaturally quiet even for after
the riots, getting nervous about that, when Tully came flying out a
doorway a hundred feet ahead and across the way. He hadn’t
yet gotten stable on his hands and knees when soldiers in black
surrounded him. They bound his hands behind him, put a choke cord
on him, and led him off toward the center of town.

There were six of those soldiers. Smeds stared numbly, seeing
the end of his days. What the hell could he do? Get Fish? But what
could Fish do? No two men were going to ambush six soldiers in
broad daylight.

He tripped along behind. With each step he became more certain
what had to be done, became more sick at heart. No matter that
Tully had been ready to write him off.

He ducked into an alley and ran, the energy starting to burn in
his veins. He went faster than necessary, trying to leech the
growing fear in frenzied physical activity.

His pack hammered against his back. Like half the men in Oar he
was carrying his home on his back. He had to get rid of it somehow.
Somewhere safe. Most of his take from the Barrowland was in it.

He came on a pile of rubble in deep shadow. No one was around.
He buried the pack hastily, hurried on to the point where he wanted
to intercept Tully and the soldiers. They were not in sight. His
heart sank. Had they decided to go some longer way? No. There they
were. He’d just gotten way ahead. He crossed the street to a
dark alley mouth. He would run back the way he had come, to his
pack, through some useful shadows, on a route barren of
witnesses.