Cold Copper Tears (29 page)

Morley and I stood to either side of the door as the others filed in. All I detected was a rising note of excitement. Then Sampson strode by. He looked at me like I was something with a hundred legs he’d discovered crawling in his breakfast.

He started violently when he saw the Dead Man. He turned, saw me and Morley blocking the doorway, and turned back again.

We went in, me frowning, looking at the Dead Man as though he might give me some physical clue. Maya closed the door behind us. She didn’t look pretty today. She looked mean, like the street kid she’d been so long.

Garrett, ask Mr. Sampson to disrobe. Mr. Contague, would you lend us the aid of Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler in the event Mr. Sampson is reluctant?

Everyone but Chodo looked at Sampson. Chodo looked at me and his henchmen, lifted a finger granting permission. I said, “Sampson?”

He headed for the door. Maya knocked him up side the head with a brass goblet. That slowed him down. Crask and Sadler held his arms while I hoisted the skirt of his habit and yanked down his pants. Morley leaned against the wall and made a crude remark about human perversion.

Mr. Sampson of the Church, heir to the Grand Inquisitor, had a bald crotch.

If you dress him in peasant garb and put him into a doorway I believe witnesses would swear he was the man who assassinated Magister Peridont. I believe he is the only one of his kind present.

“Good enough for me,” I said. “Pity there’s no one else from the Church here. It would save us the trip to turn him over.’’

We will keep him here. He knows who in each denomination is what you call a ringer.

Sampson went rigid as a stone post. I had Crask and Sadler set him to one side. I glanced at the Dead Man.

Did he have an ulterior motive for having invited Chodo? Like wanting him to see how much aggravation he could get if he ever decided to push us? That kind of thinking ahead wasn’t beyond him.

Gentlemen. As you know, the death of a Loghyr stills the flesh only. Many centuries can pass before the spirit separates from the flesh. In some cases, where the spirit is unwilling, Passing can be delayed almost indefinitely. In the ancient days of your race, when mine was more numerous, many of your local gods and devils were the departed of my species. It was the fashion to while away the Passing protecting or plaguing the primitives. Most of those animistic spirits have faded from memory, as my race has faded from the world. That game has lost its jest, so that now most Loghyr prefer to go to Khatar Island for their Passing. But there is one ancient, malignant presence among you. He has been known by many names in many times. He always attaches himself to dark, nihilist cults. In recent ages he has shown himself less because the rest of us took an oath to end his torment. He is the motive force behind the Sons of Hammon. And he is in TunFaire now.

He made a mistake coming here. But he did not know of my presence. He did not discover his mistake until he attacked this house in an effort to obtain the key that will unlock the tomb of the Devastator. I had suspected his presence earlier, based on reports from Mr. Garrett. His attack confirmed it.

Gentlemen, this ancient wickedness is most vulnerable at this moment. It is never likely to be this exposed again. Its adventures lately have stripped it of all allies but a handful hidden inside the priesthoods. A dead Loghyr is not very mobile. Without cohorts to remove it to safety, it can do nothing but await its fate, be that rescue or despair at your hands.

Determine amongst you what course to pursue. Though we of this house have done our share already we will continue to lend our support.

Thanks a bunch, Old Bones. If there was no more profit in it I wasn’t that excited about staying involved. Who wants to duke it out with a dead Loghyr who’s had several thousand years to practice being nasty? My own pet devil was bad enough. He’s only been at it a few centuries and claims he’s a friend. He doesn’t create eight-armed demons out of whole cloth or send them calling in their own private thunderstorms.

He sent a personal message.
These priests have the power to make thousands forget their temples were profaned.

And there were stormwardens and firelords and whatnot on the Hill who could turn into real pests if we kept attracting their attention. The priests could dissuade them. Maybe there was a profit after all.

Two hours of politicized yak passed before Chodo Contague asked the critical question. He’d gotten fed up with their bickering over precedence.

“Do you know where this thing is?”

That was the key question. If you’re going after rats it helps to know where the rathole is.

Yes.

“Then this chatter is pointless. Mr. Sadler and Mr. Crask will tend to the matter. Are there special needs they should be aware of before they start?”

The Dead Man was amused. Within seconds the arguments collapsed. Everybody wanted to be right behind the kingpin. It didn’t seem like that bad a spot, either. Better still would be behind his boys and the whole religious bunch. Then there would be nobody to trip over when I made a run for it.

52

The target had picked a spot.

Copperhead Bar is a long, skinny island that starts where the river bends as it passes the southern city limit. It’s a mile long and maybe seventy yards wide at its widest. It’s covered with scrub growth that has anchored the sand and silt that make up the bar. Forty yards of channel separate it from the mainland. It’s a hazard and an eyesore and the only reason it isn’t dredged put of there is that it belongs to the Church, deeded over in early imperial times. Way back they tried to establish a monastery on it but the footings were too infirm and the floods too frequent. There’s nothing left but a tumble of creeper-covered building stone.

The Dead Man said our target was hiding under that rockpile.

He might as well have been in another dimension.

We had a good crowd gathered just south of the city wall, in an area kept barren by an eccentric owner. Chodo had sent a dozen street soldiers to back Crask and Sadler. The various denominations had contributed several hundred vigorous young priests. The guy who had come off the Hill, whose name I never did get, had juice enough to borrow a company of the Watch. Morley and I kind of stood off by ourselves, with Maya, wondering what was going to happen.

An ecumenical delegation had gone to Chattaree in hopes of recruiting a Magister or two. We were waiting on the Church’s reply.

The drop-off to the river was about twelve feet, a sort of miniature bluff. Morley and Maya and I were on a knoll fifty yards back. Everyone else was between us and the river but kind of hanging back, not wanting to get any closer than they had to. I wondered if the thing on the island was aware of us.

I wondered, too, if I had some score to settle with Jill Craight. She and her pal Agire were standing separate, thirty yards south of anyone else. I’d been keeping an eye on them. They weren’t talking and didn’t seem very friendly. Maybe Agire was having trouble coping with being seen in a whore’s company. It was too late for him to make it look like anything but what it was.

Maya noted my interest. She was too nervous to tease me. “What’re they doing here?” she asked. “I don’t know.”

The only men who had dared the lip of the bluff were Crask and Sadler. Now they headed our way. I was excited about that.

Crask came up, said, “Garrett, you were the Marine. How do we get over there?”

“I don’t think we do, you want the truth.” He scowled.

“Remember the thing that came to Chodo’s place? That’s what we’re up against.” That and a lot more. This Loghyr had been polishing his tricks for ages. He’d lived through these things before. In fact, the Dead Man said this particular Loghyr was supposed to have been scrubbed after the fall of Carathca. “An attack will just get us all killed.”

Neither Crask nor Sadler were known for subtle solutions to problems. Sadler asked, “Then what’re we doing out here?”

“We’re here because the people who tell us what to do don’t understand what we’re up against.”

“All right, smart guy,” Crask said. “You live with one of these things. How would you take it out?”

I’d hoped that wouldn’t come up. I didn’t want to give anybody something he could use against me and the Dead Man.

“We should wear him down. First thing, set up a kind of siege.”

“A line here, and somebody on the river, to keep its people from rescuing it. After that I’d just collect mice and rats and bugs and float them to the island on rafts. For as long as it took.”

“What?” They both looked lost.

“All right. First thing you got to realize, this thing is dead. But its spirit is tied to its body. No body, the spirit has to go away.” Or so the Dead Man claimed. “There’s nothing on that island for vermin to eat except that Loghyr body. The Loghyr knows that, too. He’ll be watching for bugs and stuff. But if there are a lot of them, it’ll be hard for him to spot them all and take care of them. Also, a dead Loghyr has to spend a lot of time sleeping. That’s when they develop the energy they use when they pull their stunts. This one is probably sleeping right now. When he’s asleep he can’t keep track of vermin. They could work him over good. He wouldn’t feel them biting because he’s dead.”

Crask snorted, disgusted. But Sadler nodded, seeing it. “Take a while, though.”

“It would. But I don’t know of any more certain, less risky way to handle it.”

“We’d have to check with Chodo. He wants results quick.” Chodo had retired to his estate.

“He’ll pay dear for that if he insists.”

Crask jerked his head at Sadler. They went off to talk it over. Morley asked, “Why not ring in a firelord or two? They could burn it out there, couldn’t they?”

“Maybe. But a sorcerer wouldn’t be safer from it than you or me.”

“Garrett,” Maya said softly, scared, “I don’t think it’s asleep.”

She had a flair for understatement.

I saw nothing but a glow from where we stood but something was happening on the island. Those nearer the edge began yammering and backing away.

Then a spot of black cloud formed above the island, maybe fifty feet high. It grew quickly, spinning like a whirlpool. Everybody watched it, which was a mistake.

Sudden as lightning three guys in antique armor jumped over the lip of the bluff. Glowing, they charged the crowd. They hurled spears of fire.

A six-armed woman formed inside the spinning cloud. She grew huge. She wore nothing, was a polished black, and had a skull for a face and teats like a dog.

Priests screamed. The Watch company decided they weren’t getting paid enough to deal with this.

Crask and Sadler and their boys were willing to take on the armored guys but couldn’t get to them through the panicky mob.

The armored guys went to work. Pieces of body flew.

“Damn!”

I glanced at Morley but kept most of my attention on the black thing. It seemed especially interested in Jill and Agire. Morley dipped into a pocket. I caught a glimpse of something lemon-colored. He threw it at the armored men.

Damn him, he’d managed to sneak himself some of Peridont’s goodies while the lights were out that night.

The bottle broke on a man’s breastplate. For a moment I thought nothing was happening. When it did start it wasn’t what Morley had in mind.

The guy started laughing. In a minute he was laughing so hard he rested his sword tip on the ground and leaned on the weapon, having one hell of a good time.

“Shit,” Morley grumbled. “That was a bust.” He threw a couple more bottles, other colors, at the other two armored figures. Those had even less obvious effect.

The yellow bottle wasn’t a complete bust. Crask forced his way through the crowd, took the sword away from the laughing villain, used it to carve him up. Then he got the giggles himself.

One down. But the other two were slaughtering everybody they could catch. And the thing in the air was after Agire and Jill.

I threw my red bottle.

I didn’t want to do that. In the back of my mind I’d hoped to get to the island and use it on the dead Loghyr.

The results were the same as they’d been at Chodo’s place. The monster melted and evaporated. But I didn’t have time to watch. Two armored guys were headed my way and, except for Chodo’s troops, everybody was opting for discretion.

One of Morley’s bottles began to take effect. One of the attackers started having trouble keeping his balance.

He slipped, staggered, and as he got closer fell to his knees.

Neither was throwing sorceries anymore. Though maybe that was because the thing on the island was distracted by what was happening to its monster.

Crask got behind the staggering character, ran a spear through him. So then there was one. All of a sudden it was at the heart of a circle of unfriendlies including Morley and myself, Sadler and most of Chodo’s boys, and maybe a dozen priests and Watchmen with more man average nerve. The guy was like a giant thunder lizard surrounded by little hunters. We couldn’t hurt him head-on but his back was always turned to somebody.

He didn’t last long.

When it was over I glanced at the thing that had been in the air. It lay on the ground twitching, half devoured by the stuff eating it, black fog boiling off. Sadler stepped over. “I get the point you were making, Garrett. That thing can hack away any time it wants.”

Somebody pulled the helmet off a suit of armor and discovered that the man inside had been a corpse longer than a few seconds. He had drowned days ago. Fish and corruption had been working on him.

I nodded to Sadler. “It has to rest sometimes, but this’s what we can expect, or maybe worse, if we try to go over there.” I thought about how the Dead Man could make people forget, could make them do things they didn’t want to do. This could get rough.

Actually, though, I was surprised by the level of violence. I’d figured the Loghyr wouldn’t want to attract attention from the Hill. Sorcerers could get real interested in this kind of show.

Morley said, “We’d better take care of the dead and get the wounded to help.”