Adventures Of Myhr Part 31

"Overduke's guard. Why are you running?"

"Thought you lot were some of them h.e.l.l-river demons." "h.e.l.l-river demons? What are those?"

"You mean you ain'theard of them yet? It's all they're talking about, the Talents, that is. They seen 'em out in the night. There was a man tore to bits by the east wall, but they hushed it all up."

"Tore to bits?" This sparked some worried discussion with several cronies who had caught up.

"It's true, I saw with my own eyes. Thought it was butcher leavings. They told me to-"

"Arrh, he's lying his head off," put in a second man. "I ain't heard nothing about no demons."

"Well, of course not," Debreban said. "Them what's running things don't want it to get about. You ask any of the Talents on watch and they'll lie till they're blue, but I know what I saw."

"Then what are you doing up and about with demons all over an' a curfew on?"

"I reckon what business I had out was none of yours, 'cause it ain't polite for a man to talk about such things. I was on my way home when you lot started chasing me for no reason, and I'll be pleased to be on my way again if you'll allow it."

"We should take you in for wasting our time!"

A change in subject was in order. "Who are you after? Lord Cadmus you said?"

"That's right."

"Why didn't you say so? I pa.s.sed him down by the river. Can't miss him in those dandy clothes."

"What part?"

"The docks. Seemed to want a boat but didn't know how to find an oarsman. Silly toffs don't know nothing."

"The docks. Hop it, boys!"

"What abouthim ?" The first man pointed across the alley.

Debreban held his breath.

"Sod him. s.h.i.+ft yourselves!"

There was a general rout and Debreban was abandoned to his own devices. Perfect. He was thirty feet up and on the wrong end of town, but in no immediate danger. Half the guard would be on a north-bound chase to futility. All he had to do now was head for Darmo House and hope his lords.h.i.+p and the lady were having even better luck.

Debreban found a lower roof to drop to, then a lower one, until he felt confident of landing on the ground without breaking anything. This he managed; the jolt wasn't too bad. He straightened and dusted off, then set out once more, boldly striding forward like a man with a mission, which was somewhat true.

"Halt, there!" b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. More of the overduke's minions. Hadn't they heard the news? A few carried dark lanterns and opened the metal shutters, bathing Debreban in watery yellow light.

"He's at the docks," he said to the figures closing on him. "Just got the report. Lord Cadmus is trying to hire a boat to escape by river."

"Then he will be caught. You are to halt, though." This came from a big man on horseback who seemed to be in charge. The backwash of the lanterns picked out the silver trim on his clothes, then the glint of his close-cropped pale hair. Debreban froze in his boots as the man's basilisk gaze fell on him.

"Overduke Anton?" he whispered. What washe doing out hunting with his men? But they weren't his men. If that face in the mirror was right, then this was Darmo Botello, wearing the overduke's body like a cloak. Debreban stared, trying to see any sign of the impostor beneath the sh.e.l.l.

"What an observant fellow you are. A bit more brainy than your master, though it wouldn't take much."

"M-my master?"

"Those are Burkus colors. You are going to tell me where Cadmus has taken himself."

"His lords.h.i.+p's at the docks."

"Where you would be were that so. He's gotten you to lead us away from him. Don't mistake me for the idiot he is. Where is he really headed? Darmo House? Does he think that b.i.t.c.h will be able to protect him fromme ?"

Debreban gulped. It was true. The man's manner of speaking, the way he p.r.o.nounced "idiot," were identical to the name-calling from their first encounter on the carriage drive when he'd been in possession of Lord Cadmus's body. Didn't any of these others know the difference? Apparently not. Why should they? And it wasn't something Debreban could just blurt out. Not only would he be ignored as a lunatic, but Botello would shut him away in a dungeon cell. Or kill him.

Stiffly, as if unused to riding, Botello dismounted from the horse. It was a gentler animal than the sleek and restive Whitestone, and much less discerning; wouldn't know the real overduke from a tree. Rather like the guards. Debreban had never been comfortable about the overduke, so much power in one man who knew magic and had strange visions, but for all that he was known as a friendly sort. This impostor was a definite threat. To everyone.

Botello approached Debreban, squinting. The others took a pace closer, but were waved back.

Debreban instinctively knew something more was up than a simple interrogation. Botello smiled as though he fully expected to get answers to his questions and would enjoy the process.

I won't talk, and he must know it. But what if he has some magical means to force me?Debreban felt in his bones the absolute certainty of that suspicion. He possessed no Talent himself, but held a deep, wary respect for those who did. Suddenly heavy on his hip, he felt the weight of the cold iron sword.But if I kill Botello, I'll kill the overduke, and even if he's not really Lord Anton, I'll be killed for raising a weapon against him. Times were peaceful, but treason was yet a capital crime.

The false overduke lifted his hand high toward Debreban, fingers spread wide. That couldn't be good.

Debreban took his cue from the puzzled glances of the men around them. Apparently this wasn't typicalcustody procedure. He did not feel bound to discover what came next. Quick as thought he drew his sword, holding it in a defense position.

"This is made of cold iron, wizard. Do you want to risk it?" he asked.

Botello flinched back, his eyes wide. "You dare?"

"I have to."

Bafflement turned to malignant fury. "You know the penalty for treason?" he hissed.

"I think we both do.Sir ." Mutual understanding flashed between them like lightning.

"Take him!" Botello ordered.

But before the men could act, Debreban swung the tip of his blade level with Botello's throat. "I'll split him! I mean it! Stand clear!"

They held their distance. Barely.

"Over there," he said, jerking his head to his right. "All of you face that wall and put your hands on it.

Now!"

None of them wanted to cooperate. Debreban glared at Botello and applied enough pressure to dent his skin.

"Do what he says!" Botello snapped, then murmured, "I'll see you're gutted for this. You'll be days dying."

Debreban paid him no mind, urging the men to obey his instructions. When they were lined up with their hands in plain sight, he forced Botello backwards a few steps. "Your turn, the wall."

Botello seemed eager to remove himself from the range of the blade. While he was busy emulating the guards, Debreban seized the horse's dangling reins, jumped, and got a leg over its back. The quick move startled the animal, but Debreban clung tight. No time to find the stirrups; he dug in smartly with both heels, and they launched forward like the favorite at a racing meet.

Hands grabbed at him, but he beat them off, yelling his ride into a full-blown and dangerous gallop. He had to trust the horse knew how to run on cobblestones.

Behind him he heard a man's high shriek of rage. It was the overduke's voice, but such an unearthly sound could never before have pa.s.sed his lips. Then a terrific flash of blue-white light bathed the alley.

Debreban felt a scorching on his back and knew it meant death. He brought the flat of his sword down on the horse's rump, getting a burst of speed that nearly unseated him. The light grew stronger, the heat more intense; a loud roaring filled his ears like a rush of water at a cataract.

Heat, appalling heat. His cloak was on fire. He clawed at the knot under his chin. It tore loose, and the heavy fabric went flying off in his wake. Thank gawds for that, but he nearly lost the reins and his seat.

He leaned low over the horse's neck, and kicked again.

Another gust of flaming white death swelled behind him, ironically lighting his way to the opening of thealley. It served a minor street, the opposite side blocked by a building. In scant yards he'd have to bring the horse sharp around without sending them spilling, but it was that or be roasted.

They burst from the alley, and he hauled on the reins, leaning into the turn. The horse's hooves skidded on the stones, but his legs kept moving. Probably panicked himself.

From the corner of his eye Debreban glimpsed a bright s.h.i.+mmering ball hurtling from the alley. He and the horse barely cleared from its path. The ball continued straight, slamming into the side of the building.

Tongues of red shot out from it, taking hold of the old wood.

"Fire!" someone cried. Others chorused in.

"Fire!" he bellowed as well. It was the common enemy of the city. Everyone would converge on that spot to put it out, hindering pursuit. "Fire!" he called again and again. He continued long after leaving the immediate area. The more confusion, the better for his escape. Debreban felt fierce satisfaction knowing that Botello had brought the delay onto himself.

He would not be put off for long, though, and he already suspected Lord Cadmus would go to Darmo House.

Debreban had to get there, first and fast, to warn them.

"Fire!" he shouted to the night.

Darmo House Amid the luxury confines of his suite, Terrin sat on the floor rooting around in his backpack, muttering crudities that would make a Marine blush. I paid no mind to him, being used to it and having other things to think about: such as nervously wondering what h.e.l.l would be like.

His reply, when I put the question to him, was less than satisfactory: "About what you'd expect."

"But I don't have any expectations."

"Prolly better that way."

"What do you mean?"

Then he told me in no uncertain terms to chill out so he could work. Since my survival was likely dependent on whatever he was doing, I shut my mouth, paced aimlessly around his velvet-trimmed room, and chilled. And thought up other questions. And made myself not ask them. And chilled some more, which meant thinking upmore questions. Hamsters stampeding to nowhere in their little wheels had nothing on me.

"Where's my frigging crystal ball?" Terrin snarled. "You can't go until I find it."

I perked my ears. "Oh, yeah?" I couldn't keep sudden cheeriness from my tone. "Why not?" "I need it to watch you while you're there."

"Use Filima's scrying mirror."

"Can't. One of those Otherside critters might sleaze its way through."

"You can handle a demon."

"Yeah, but I don't need distractions that could break your astral thread. If that got snapped you'd be stuck."

"I'll help you look."

"Never mind. I remember where I left it." He looked disgusted.

"At the inn?"

"Naw, a circle of standing stones a couple worlds back. I was using it to scope out ley lines, see if they could lead me to an astral map home. Then some local deity showed up and it got ugly."

"You never told me that."

He shrugged. "Magic stuff bores you."

"What deity, what'd it look like?"

"Never got the name, but she was pretty p.i.s.sed at me being on her turf, doubly p.i.s.sed that I wasn't a virgin. We got into a slugging match."

"You hit a girl?" I didn't care for that.

"A deity who would have made Schwartzenegger look like Woody Allen with pneumonia.

Metaphysically speaking, yeah. But she hit first. It all happened while I was in a trance, so there was nothing going on you'd have noticed. When I woke out of it my crystal ball was shattered. What a b.i.t.c.h."

"And youforgot all that?"

"Pretty much. Happens all the time. Go see if her ladyness has a spare. Real crystal. I don't want one of those gla.s.s rip-off jobs. I need a black candle, too."

"I still have that one in my pack."

"I'll get it. Meet you in the blue room that's got the tent."

Glad for something to do, I went downstairs, arriving in time for a patch of activity in the big reception foyer. The place was dark. The only lights burning in the house were still in the kitchen and a couple candles Terrin had taken with him. Not that I needed help seeing once my pupils were fully dilated.

Shankey walked in, just putting his sword in its scabbard. He fumbled at a table with a tinderbox, and I considered introducing the concept of strike matches to this world. They'd put up a statue to me for theidea alone.

He got a single flame going pretty fast though, which brought out the colors for me. He had company.

With him was atotal babe wearing something like a riding outfit and a guy resembling one of those overdone soap opera heroes: all shoulders, muscles, and chin. I paid more attention to the amazingly curvaceous babe where every part was a moving part, the whole of it beautifully synchronized. Wow.

What a looker. She was sort of like Filima, but in vanilla instead of cinnamon. Iloved the choice of flavors on this world.

The three of them, once the candle was burning, began talking at once. I skimmed bits and pieces off the top. Shankey had apparently found them lurking around outside; they were busy explaining the why behind their lurking and were pretty wound up about some major trouble that was on its way.

Filima walked in from another quarter and called out to the babe. "Velma! What's the matter?" She hurried toward them.