Merovingen - Fever Season Part 12

133.

Krishna started to draw his sword, then thought of something better. Just push him over, into the water. Yes, yes, that would be perfect; no mark of weapons, no suspicions, no new dueling-fines. Just an accident, n.o.body to blame. He suppressed a snicker as he lunged forward.

His running footsteps thudded softly as pattering rain on the boards.

At the last second, the tall man dropped low and spun away to one side. Fast, so fast he seemed to blur.

When'd he learn that?! Krishna .wondered, scrambling to stop his forward momentum on the fog-wet wood. Justus was usually so clumsy . . .

Then his chest hit the top rail.

A heavy hand slammed between his shoulderblades, pus.h.i.+ng him forward. Krishna's feet shot backward, out from under him, and his own weight sped him out to-ward empty air. He squawked and scrabbled for hand-hold on the rail, caught it, swung precariously balanced a full five meters above the sullen, fog-hidden water.

That hand again, too heavy, far too strong for Justus, pressed down on his back, pinning him belly-down, b.u.t.t to the breeze, on the bridge-rail.

Krishna briefly considered kicking at his opponent, then thought better of it. He felt around with his feet until he found one of the lower rails, and tucked his toes under it. Only then did he dare to turn his head and look up.

Less than an inch from his nose, absolutely steady, was the muzzle of a huge, long-barreled revolver. The aperture looked as big around as his thumb.

Beyond the pistol was a long, lean black-clad arm and shoulder, and beyond that a face that Krishna recognized all too well. He'd never wanted to see that face this close, and surely not ever smiling like this, showing so many gleaming, perfect teeth.

"Punk," Black Cal smiled. "You just made my day."

134.

Leslie Fish Close upon sunset, between Ulger and Calder, the seeds ran out. Rif pulled the small oilcloth seed-pouch out of her bag-of-tricks, turned it inside-out and trailed it in the water just under the Ulger side of the bridge, then sighed and tossed it back in the bag. "Ah, h.e.l.l, that'll do 'er. Drop me back at Fife, will you?"

Jones stifled another yawn and poled slowly eastward, arms tired, everything tired. "Y'got only half the town," she noted.

"Rat's takin' the east side again. Probably done by now." Rif stretched, rubbed knuckles into her back. "Gotta ask 'er if she's seen that Chud anywhere, or got a copy of that handbill."

Connections Finally clicked together in Jones' sleep-slowed mind. "House Hannon printed those up, spread 'em everywhere, ain't they?"

"Right."

"So all o' low-town an' half o' High's goin' ter be out lookin' fer'im. Sure ye want ter swim in that kind o' compet.i.tion?"

"Not really." Rif shrugged. "Still, Hannon's offering five sols. If I get a chance at that money, I'll grab it."

Jones stared thoughtfully at the spangles of low sunlight on the pa.s.sing water. "I don* think I could kill anybody just fer money," she said. "Nor religion n'r politics, either."

"No more would I." Rif crackled the joints in her knuckles, then wrists. "Besides, it's not just the money. That's what this Chud killed that girl for, an' that's what makes him worth killing."

Jones chewed that over. So, Rif did a lot of things for at least two reasons, maybe more. Maybe she never did anything for just one reason. "Ah" this seedin' job t'day? There was more'n one reason fer that, too, ney?"

Rif flicked a thoughtful look at Jones, then pulled her bag-strap onto her shoulder, reached into a pocket for some coins and started counting them. "We did five good deeds today, if y'wanta count 'em up."

"Five?"

WAR OF THE UNSEEN WORLDS.

135.

"We planted the seeds that'll clean up the water," Rif ticked off on her fingers, "Helped Jusly get away from a nasty beating, got Krishna what he deserved, cheered up Black Cal a bit ... and maybe even prevented a war."

Jones p.r.i.c.ked up her ears at that last. "How'd we prevent a war, just floatin' around town?"

Rif half-turned, and gave Jones a heavy-lidded smile that made her s.h.i.+ver. "No harm telling ye that m'sera Johanssen's a Jane priestess, as well's a doctor."

Jones kept quiet as they pa.s.sed under Mendez-Calder Bridge. Rif had left too much dangling; it didn't add up. "But we took 'er out o' town . . ."

"Mhm." Rif thought for a moment, then pulled open her shoulder-slung bag and drew out a crocheted sweater, now complete. "Here," she handed it to Jones. "That's for Raj, or 'is brother. Teil 'im what you like."

Jones took the thing as if it were made of thorns, looked at it carefully. It was small, made for someone about Raj's size-or a little bigger. Meant for him, or me, from the start . . .

The Janes had been keeping an eye on her, or Raj, for however long it took to hand-crochet a sweater. Maybe since Festival first-night. She s.h.i.+vered again, but didn't put on the sweater. Another thought connected. "She was that same Jane what made the speech from the bridge, first Festival night?"

"Right. Her work's done here, so she's goin' elsewhere." Rif kept back a small count of coins and put the rest away. "Pull up under Fife southeast, same's before."

"Yey." Jones poled slowly under the Calder-Fife Bridge, thoughts grinding like reluctant gears. "Ste's goin' ter stop a war? All by herself?"

"Not quite by herself." Rif glanced at the walkways above, listening for footsteps or breaming. There was none. "Y'know, those Nev Hettekers wanta take Merovingen, any way they can. Your Kalugin wants war with Nev Hettek, but he can't push it past his big sister. Tatiana wants no war, but she's got that Sword lover what just might sweettalk'er into opening 136.

Leslie FisU more'n just her legs to Nev Hettek. Now maybe Black Cal knowin' about that might change things, but I wouldn't wanta bet the whole-"

He knows? How?! Connections made, fast.

Jones yanked the pole out of the water, braced her feet and whipped it up to ramming height, aimed at Rif. "You told 'im?!"

Warring calculations struggled for balance: Rif had valuable connections, Rif was dangerous, Rifs friends were dangerous, and valuable-and now Rif couldn't be trusted.

"Lord an' Ancestors, first chance ye got after 1 told ye, an' ye spilled it all ter a blackleg!"

"To Black Ca/." Rif turned to face Jones, both hands resting on her knees-plainly far from her knives and from whatever was in the big bag. "Do you know anyone else could maybe do something about it?"

"Anastasi Kalugin," Jones whispered, lowering the boat-pole a fraction, already wondering.

"You think your friend hasn't told 'im already? A big piece of news like that?"

Raj. She thinks it was Raj that saw . . . Jones let the pole end sag. Of course Tom would have told Kalugin everything he'd seen, heard, guessed. Probably before-and more than- he'd told her. If Raj had known, he probably would have done the same. But if Rif were to question Raj about it ... "Don't ye go botherin' that kid on this. Don't even ask 'im. Ye got 'im pokin' inter enough trouble already."

"I won't. I got no reason t'hurt the kid."

Jones dropped her pole-end back into the water.

"1 like that boy, Jones. He's smart as a whip, knows how t'keep his eyes open an1 his mouth shut. Don't worry about him." Rif took her hands off her knees and eased back against the gunwale. "Y'can bet he made good money selling that story to Kalugin, but he's left no sign that he's got it."

"Yey," Jones shrugged, poling smooth around the upcoming Fife comer. "He's smart, right enough."

"So Kalugin knows," Rif went on, "But that Nev Hetteker's still alive an' waltzing with Tatiana. That means yer Anastasi WAR OF THE UNSEEN WORLDS.

137.

hasn't done anything yet. Y'can bet he would if he could, so that means he can't."

"Well ... not yet. maybe." Fife-Southdike Bridge slid overhead. Its shadow felt heavy and cold in the fog.

"Meanwhile, who do we know that can get close enough to Tatiana to maybe do somethin' about her Sword sweetheart?"

Jones chewed that over, not seeing any sense here. Black Cal? What did he have to do with Tatiana Kalugin? She shrugged.

"Aw, think, Jones!" Rif snorted. "Tatiana's in charge of the city law-keeping, which means the blacklegs. She's Black Cal's boss!"

"h.e.l.l!" Jones whispered, poling the skip to a halt. "He might get close enough . . ." No, stop right there. Best not to speculate on what Black Cal could do, if he wanted, on his home ground. "But still . . . that wouldn't hold off a war, would it?"

"Ney, not alone." Rif glanced again at the walkway, kept silent for a moment as a half-drunk couple tottered past, then reached for the tie-up. "That still leaves Nev Hettek, plotting war, pus.h.i.+ng the Sword down here. Nothing to hold them back, 'cept for a little advance planning. Nothing 'til now, anyway."

Jones waited, silent. She wants to tell me. Why?

Rif flashed that chilly smile once more. "Jones, you got a lead t'Anastasi Kalugin, one he'll believe if word ever has t'be got to 'im."

Jones nodded understanding. Rif had guessed that her connections could work both ways. And also knew that Jones had someone to protect and worry about, though she didn't really know who it was. Maybe knows my hin and haw, but uses a light touch.

"I'll leave it t'yer judgment when and how t'use this, just in case I'm not handy for advice." Rif tossed a quick look over the water, then back. "The Janes don't want war either, nor Nev Hettek to take over. And now they've got a way t'stop Nev Hettek cold. You helped deliver it, in fact."

138.

Leslie Fish "That Jane doctor?" Jones guessed, keeping her hands busy with the aft tie-up. "She's : . . goin' ter Nev Hettek?"

"Not empty-handed" Rif slid smoothly off the skip, and held out her hand. Five Junes twinkled there. "You want?"

Jones hesitated, knowing there was more here than she'd earned just ferrying Rif around all day, more pa.s.sing to her than hauling fees. But she took the coins, all five. "Say it."

Rif hitched closer, voiced pitched to that low, carrying, tight-beam range. "She was carrying some . . . 'cultures,' they're called. Breeding-stock, like with the fuel-making yeast-only they're not for yeast. They were taken outa Dead Harbor."

It took Jones a second to understand, and then there was only one question left to ask.

"Before or after we dumped them barrels o' Plague-killer?"

"Before"

"Oh." Jones edged away, feeling the hair lift up on her neck. "Breedin'-stock fer ..."

"Right." Rif smiled somberly into the thickening shadows. "There's no plague in Merovingen. But there will be-in a few special places-in Nev Hettek."

FEVER SEASON (REPRISED).

CJ. Ckerryk Del and Min were not at tie-up yet. It was no safe place to leave the skip, at Petrescu, with so much wrong in the world, but Jones had no patience for waiting. The front room lamp was on in Mondragon's apartment, the signal she had arranged with the boys, left side of the couch one night, then right, then left, more complicated than with Mondragon, but then, things were, lately. Complicated.

She skipped up the stairs and onto the landing, breathless, knocked the special knock, and stood and fretted in the chill while she waited on one of the boys inside to see who it was.

Denny. The eye had a little to do to reach the garde-porte grate inside. The grate snapped shut again and the latch rattled back. Jones dived in and shut the door herself.

"How is he?"

Denny pointed at the back room and she went with a sense of panic, down the short hall by the stairs, to the open bedroom door where the oil-lamp burned.

Raj was there, sitting on Mondragon's bedside. He twisted around as she came in. And Mondragon had his head propped up, his eyes open.

She slopped her hurry. Made a nonchalant stroll into the room, hands in pockets."Well," she said while her heart 1*9.

140.

C.J. Cherryh settled down. "You look some better." "Doing all right," he said, ll was hardly his voice. It was weak and it was half a whisper. He needed a shave, bad. His hair was a mess. His eyes being open and full of sense was the prettiest sight she had seen in days.

"He ate some," Raj said.

"G.o.d, Raj's cooking," Denny sneered from the doorway, and swung past the doorframe to stand in the room, "Out," Raj said, waving a hand. "Man's tired, Denny. Lord!"

Denny dived out again. Jones hardly noticed till the thought of her skip flashed across her mind and she shot out a hand and grabbed a fistful of sweater before Denny quite cleared the door. "Go out an' watch. 1 got my skip out there. Get aboard and sit. Penny in it F ye."

"Two."

"Git!" Raj hissed, and Denny got. Raj turned round again, and got up carefully. "Sorry," he said to Mondragon. "You just rest quiet. I'll let m' brother out."

Jones stood still, hands in pockets while the room cleared. Then she went over to Mondragon's bedside and stood there. "All right, huh?"

"Jones," he muttered in that thin voice, and rolled his eyes, looking up at her. "Jones, there was this crazy woman here- d.a.m.n woman-"

"She done ye some good."' ^ "For G.o.d's sake, Jones, she's a d.a.m.n Janist-"

"Ain't we perticular?" She sank down on the edge of the bed.

"-in my bedroom," he muttered, and his eyes fluttered shut. "No more crazy people here-"

"Mondragon."

But he was asleep, till the door opened and shut in the front room, and his eyes few open again. She patted his arm.

" 'S all right, that's just Raj letting Denny out."

"Fed me this d.a.m.n stuff," he complained. '"Sang songs at me. For G.o.d's sake, Jones-"

He was gone again. But it was just sleep. She felt of his FEVER SEASON (REPRISED)MI.

face and it was cool, even if the whole room smelled like fever and sweat.

_ She stood there and wiped her nose with her sleeve, and one eye with the back of a knuckle, and shrugged when Raj came in, managing to keep her back to him. "Guess I'll get me somethin' in the kitchen."