Deathstalker Coda (14 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Deathstalker Coda
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He thrust Tel forward onto his knees before Douglas, and ostentatiously wiped his hand on his arse to clean it. An unexpected surge of pride brought Tel’s head up.
“I am no spy or informer! Finn has no greater enemy than me! I came here to offer you my services!”
“Well, thanks very much and all that, but I don’t think we need our boots cleaned at the moment,” said Nina, wrinkling her nose fastidiously.
“You don’t recognize me,” said Tel, his eyes fixed on Douglas. “Hell, I wouldn’t know me, looking like this. I’m Tel Markham, once the honorable member for . . .”
He broke off as Stuart surged forward and set the edge of a knife against his throat. “Markham!” he spat. “One of Finn’s creatures, then and now! Oh, God is good, now and again, delivering our enemies into our hands. Move your boots back, Douglas. You don’t want to get blood all over them when I kill him.”
“Wait! Wait!” Tel was so panic-stricken he could hardly breathe, but he kept his gaze locked on Douglas. “I was one of Finn’s people, yes. Emphasis on the
was
. He ordered me to kill my brother Angelo, but I refused, so he turned on me. I had to run here, leaving everything behind, just to save my life. And then he killed Angelo anyway, so it was all for nothing after all. No one in this room has a better cause to hate Finn Durandal than me.”
“Don’t put money on it,” said Stuart.
“Why should we trust you?” said Douglas. He seemed genuinely curious.
“You shouldn’t,” said Tel, still acutely aware of the knife at his throat. “You shouldn’t trust anyone in the Rookery. Finn seeded the whole place with his people long ago. But I know his secrets. I can identify his traitors, tell you of his plans. You only think you know how evil he is. You have no idea of who his allies really are, and the terrible things he intends to do. You need to know what I know. Keep me around. I can be useful. In the end, you’ll learn to trust me. I’ll advise you, follow you, fight beside you.”
“Why?” said Douglas.
“Because Finn killed my brother.”
“Ah,” said Douglas. “Yes. Family obligations. I know all about those.” He nodded to Stuart, who reluctantly took his knife away from Tel’s throat.
Tel rose slowly to his feet, awkwardly conscious of what a ragged and filthy picture he presented. It had been a long time since he could afford to care about his appearance, but he wanted, needed, Douglas to remember him as the man he was, not the creature he’d become.
Stuart wrinkled his nose. “Damn, Markham, but you stink! And to be that noticeable in a dump like this is something of an achievement. If you’re going to spend any time with us, you need to take a bath. Urgently. There’s a tin bath on the ground floor. Tell the owner I said you could use it, and that he’d better scour and disinfect it afterwards. Hell, scrub it out yourself! We all have to use the bloody thing. God, sometimes I think I’m only fighting this rebellion for a return to decent plumbing.”
“First things first,” said Tel, just a little diffidently. “I belong to the landlord of the Three Cripples. He owns my contract. I can’t work for anyone else unless you buy me out. I shouldn’t even be here, really, even if it is on what I laughingly refer to as my own time.”
“Slavery’s illegal,” said Douglas. “Even in the Rookery.”
“Lot you know,” said Tel Markham.
Stuart sighed heavily. “I guess I’d better pay another visit to the Three Cripples.”
“You do that,” said Nina. “And I think I’ll force open the window while you’re gone.”
 
In the end, both Douglas and Stuart went with Tel to the tavern. Douglas talked to the landlord, and offered the man a fair sum to release Tel from his contract. The landlord, sensing which way the wind was blowing, immediately claimed Tel was utterly irreplacable, and that he couldn’t run the tavern without him. He then demanded an utterly unreasonable sum to break the contract. So Douglas knocked him on his arse, right there in front of his customers.
Slavery is illegal,
he declared loudly.
As of right bloody now.
“You know,” said Tel, as they walked out of the tavern, “that isn’t going to be a terribly popular sentiment in some parts of the Rookery. The tradition of indentured servitude goes back a long time here.”
“Tough,” said Douglas. “My leadership of this rebellion comes with a price, and the price is morality. The Rookery will become better than it was. The people will become strong again. They have to. Because the weak and uncertain won’t stand a chance against Finn’s fanatics.” He looked around at the small but attentive crowd that always appeared when he went out in public. “Wouldn’t you all like to feel good about yourselves again?”
“Don’t you condescend to us, aristo!” said a lady of a certain age with too much eye makeup. “We weren’t all born to wealth and privilege! We’ve had to make our own way. We fight Finn for our interests, not yours!”
“I could shoot her,” Stuart said quietly.
“Don’t tempt me,” murmured Douglas. He smiled easily about him. “Your interests are my interests, and vice versa. We have a common cause, bound together by need and destiny.”
He bowed courteously to the woman, and walked on. Stuart and Tel followed him. Stuart scowled.
“What the hell did that mean?”
“Beats me,” said Douglas. “It sounded good, though. When in doubt, baffle them with rhetoric. You know, things were a lot easier when I still had Anne to write my speeches for me. Look, what matters is getting the rebellion started. We can argue about what it’s for after we’ve won.”
“Those sound an awful lot like famous last words to me,” said Stuart, and Tel nodded solemnly.
“I wonder if Owen had these problems,” Douglas said wistfully.
They trudged along, Tel hanging back just a little. He had clean clothes now, and could stand to be downwind of himself at last, but he still didn’t feel worthy to walk beside Douglas yet. His pride had been very thoroughly beaten out of him while working at the Three Cripples, and it was slow coming back. He’d spent most of the past few days rehearsing in his mind all that he remembered of Finn’s plans and secrets and vulnerabilities. He could name a whole shitload of traitors, double agents and deep-cover sleepers in the Rookery, but he needed more than that to make himself valuable to Douglas. He couldn’t afford to be used and then discarded. He needed to attach himself to Douglas, make himself a part of the Campbell’s staff, so that when the rebellion was over and Douglas returned to power, Tel Markham wouldn’t be left behind in the poverty he’d so narrowly escaped. For Tel, Douglas Campbell was a rising star; someone whose coattails he could ride to security, if not glory. He needed to be secure, to launch his revenges.
“So, where are we going now?” Stuart said. The omnipresent drizzle had become a driving rain. It was always wet and miserable in the Rookery these days. Stuart was pretty sure Finn had arranged it with the weather control people.
“We are going to the alien sector,” said Douglas. “Nina is meeting us there. She’s made contact with a very useful alien hybrid called Nikki Sixteen, who claims she can get us an audience with the leaders of the alien presence here in the Rookery.”
Stuart sniffed. “Are there enough of them here to make it worthwhile?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at the size of the Rookery’s alien contingent,” Tel said immediately, seizing the chance to show off his local knowledge. “All kinds of aliens and hybrids end up here, for all sorts of reasons. Either because they’re political or religious refugees, or because they’ve acquired tastes for human pleasures or concepts that wouldn’t be tolerated back on their homeworlds. The Rookery has always been a cosmopolitan kind of place, and very tolerant when it comes to unnatural vices. You wouldn’t believe what some of these aliens get up to.”
“Yes, I bloody would,” said Stuart. “Nothing about this place surprises me anymore.”
“Some of the aliens are remittance people,” Tel continued. “Paid to stay away from home and family. Because they backed the wrong cause, or got too friendly with the wrong individuals. Being part of a rebellion to overthrow Finn and his xenophobic allies could go a long way towards buying them a ticket home again. But you’re going to have to be very careful, Douglas; all these different species have their own needs and agendas, and they’ll only go along with you for as long as your needs coincide with theirs. Right now, all you have in common is a hatred of the Emperor.”
“Right now, that’s enough,” said Douglas.
The meeting place turned out to be an abandoned, boarded-up swimming baths, in a grimy, especially run-down area of the Rookery. The chipped and stained walls were covered with sprawling alien graffiti, in a dozen different pictographs. Douglas could read a few of them, and was sure Finn’s mother had never done any such thing. Nina was sheltering in the recessed doorway, wrapped in a heavy cloak. Her pink mohawk drooped damply to one side.
“About time you got here, darlings. This place gives me the creeps, and it’s not exactly a salubrious neighborhood. The only reason it isn’t crawling with muggers is because something’s been eating them, and I don’t know what the smell is but I just know it’s going to takes ages to get it out of my clothes. And watch where you tread, because things go eek if you don’t, and I really hope they’re only rats. Nikki Sixteen brought me here, and then couldn’t leave fast enough, which tells you all you need to know about this area. Do we really need to be here, Douglas, sweetie?”
“Yes.” Douglas studied the door behind her. The swimming baths had been in a good location once, back when there had still been prosperous places to live in the Rookery. Back then, the baths had been the center of what passed for polite society. And while the building as a whole might be crumbling and the windows boarded over, the main door was a single great slab of veined marble, held shut by heavy lengths of steel chain, with massive padlocks. The padlocks hung open—showing they were expected, if not necessarily welcome—but clearly the aliens took their security very seriously. Douglas gestured for Nina to stand aside, and she stepped reluctantly out into the rain. Stuart moved quickly forward to block Douglas’s way.
“I go first, Douglas. Always. Now you’re the leader of the rebellion, I’m a lot more expendable than you are.”
“No one’s expendable, Stuart,” said Douglas. “That’s what the rebellion’s all about.”
“I still get to stand between you and all danger, Your Majesty. So hold your ground here, while I open the door and then throw Tel in to check for traps and ambushes.”
“I don’t find that at all funny,” said Tel. “Does anybody find that funny?”
“I think it’s a bloody good idea,” said Nina. “I never trusted you, even when you were just a politician. You’ve got shifty eyes.”
Stuart pushed the door slowly inwards, and the hanging chains rattled loudly. A cloud of stinking steam wafted out that had them all wincing and pulling faces. The steam curled slowly around them, moist and heavy and unpleasantly warm. It was rank with unfamiliar elements that brought tears to the eye and a nasty taste in the back of the mouth. Stuart braced himself, and stepped forward into the gloom beyond the door. There was an uncomfortably long pause, and then he reappeared again.
“No one around. The lighting gets better as you go further in, but the steam’s everywhere. I’d say it was all clear, but it manifestly isn’t. We’re being watched, I can feel it. The air smells like the Devil’s armpit, but it seems breathable enough. There are freshly daubed signs on the walls to point the way. It’s not too late to call this off, Douglas. These aliens have no cause to like or trust humans anymore. Especially not a King who in the end couldn’t protect them.”
“That’s not fair!” said Nina.
“Yes, it is,” said Douglas. “I was their King too. It was my job to protect them.”
Nina scowled unhappily, and looked back at Stuart. “Nikki said there’d be someone in there waiting to meet us.”
Stuart shrugged. “No sign of anyone. Or anything. Do we go in, Douglas?”
“Of course,” said Douglas. “We need them.”
He allowed Stuart to lead the way back in, but wouldn’t let him draw a weapon.
Diplomacy first,
he said.
Funerals after,
Nina muttered as she and Tel brought up the rear. The door slammed itself shut behind them, which surprised nobody. The tiled walls ran with moisture, the original patterns and designs mostly worn away. The ceiling dripped constantly, but was still a relief after the driving rain. The tiled floor was covered over with a thin gray slush that might or might not have had a purpose, but made the footing distinctly treacherous. The steam billowed more thickly around them the farther in they went, and left a distinct chemical taste on the back of the tongue. Freshly painted arrows, in what might have been alien blood, pointed the way.
They splashed carefully along a series of narrow corridors, following the signs and keeping a wary watch on all sides. Stuart insisted on keeping a few yards ahead of the others, so taut now that he was practically vibrating with tension. Douglas made a point of appearing carefree and relaxed. Nina and Tel huddled together for comfort, both clearly wishing they were somewhere else. They began to hear sounds up ahead. Slow, heavy impacts of something large moving ponderously through the corridors. Groans and hootings and strange clicking clacking noises. Splashing sounds, the gurgling of running water, and the steady rush of thick liquids moving through concealed pipes. The steam was getting thicker. And finally they came to what used to be the main swimming area.

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