Read The Children of the Company Online
Authors: Kage Baker
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #C429, #Extratorrents, #Kat
The Children of the Company (31 page)
“Will you get on to this, now? Throat cut and he’s not been robbed! Here’s his watch, for Christ’s sake!”
“Stroke of luck for us, anyhow.”
I sat up and glared at them. The two mortal thieves backed away from me, horrified; then one mustered enough nerve to dart in again, aiming a kick at me while he made a grab for my chronometer. I caught his wrist and broke it. He jumped back, stifling an agonized yell; his companion took to his heels and after only a second’s hesitation he followed.
I remained where I was, huddled on the pavement, running a self-diagnostic. The edges of my windpipe and jugular artery had closed and were healing nicely at hyperspeed; if the thieves hadn’t roused me from fugue I’d be whole now. Blood production had sped up to replace that now dyeing the front of my previously immaculate shirt. The exterior skin of my throat was even now self-suturing, but I was still too weak to rise.
My hat and stick remained where they had fallen, but of Donal or my assailant there was no sign. I licked my dry lips. There was a vile taste in my mouth. My chronometer told me it was a quarter past two. I dragged myself to the base of a wall and leaned there, half swooning, drowning in unwelcome remembrance.
That smell
. Sweat, blood, the animal, and smoke. Yes, they’d called it the Summer of Smoke, that year the world ended. What world had that been?
The world where I was a little prince, or nearly so; better if my mother hadn’t been a Danish slave, but my father had no sons by his lady wife, and so I had fine clothes and a gold pin for my cloak.
. Sweat, blood, the animal, and smoke. Yes, they’d called it the Summer of Smoke, that year the world ended. What world had that been?
The world where I was a little prince, or nearly so; better if my mother hadn’t been a Danish slave, but my father had no sons by his lady wife, and so I had fine clothes and a gold pin for my cloak.
When I went to climb on the beached longship and play with the gear, a warrior threatened me with his fist; then another man told him he’d better not, for I was Baldulf’s brat. That made him back down in a hurry. And once, my father set me on the table and put his gold cup in my hand, but I nearly dropped it, it was so heavy. He held it for me and I tasted the mead and his companions laughed, beating on the table. The ash-white lady, though, looked down at the floor and wrung her hands.
She told me sometimes that if I wasn’t good the Bear would come for me. She was the only one who would ever dare to talk to me that way. And then he
had
come, the Bear and his slaughtering knights. All in one day I saw our tent burned and my father’s head staring from a pike. Screaming, smoke and fire, and a banner bearing a red dragon that snaked like a living flame, I remember.
had
come, the Bear and his slaughtering knights. All in one day I saw our tent burned and my father’s head staring from a pike. Screaming, smoke and fire, and a banner bearing a red dragon that snaked like a living flame, I remember.
My mother had caught me up and was running for the forest, but she was a plump girl and could not get up the speed. Two knights chased after us on horseback, whooping like madmen. Just under the shadow of the oaks, they caught us. My mother fell and rolled, loosing her hold on me, and screamed for me to run; then one of the knights was off his horse and on her. The other knight got down too and stood watching them, laughing merrily. One of her slippers had come off and her bare toes kicked at the air until she died.
I had been sobbing threats, I had been hurling stones and handfuls of oakmast at the knights, and now I ran at the one on my mother and attacked him with my teeth and nails. He reared up on his elbows to shake me off; but the other knight reached down and plucked me up as easily as if I’d been a kitten. He held me at his eye level while I shrieked and spat at him. His shrill laughter dropped to a chuckle, but never stopped.
A big shaven face, dun-drab hair cropped. Head of a strange helm shape, tremendous projecting nose and brows, and his wide gleeful eyes so pale a blue as to be colorless, like the eyes of my father’s hounds. He had enormous broad cheekbones and strange teeth. That smell, that almost-animal smell, was coming from him. That had been where I’d first encountered it, hanging there in the grip of that knight.
The other knight had got up and came forward with his knife drawn and ready for me, but my captor held out his huge gauntleted hand.
“Sine eum!”
he told him pleasantly.
“Noli irritare leones.”
he told him pleasantly.
“Noli irritare leones.”
“Faciam quicquid placet, o ingens simi tu!”
the other knight growled, and brandished his knife. My captor’s eyes sparkled; he batted playfully at my assailant, who flew backward into a tree and lay there twitching, blood running from his ears. Left in peace, my knight held me up and sniffed at me. He sat down and ran his hands all over me, taking his gauntlets off to squeeze my skull until I feared it would break like an egg. I had stopped fighting, but I whimpered and tried to wriggle away.
the other knight growled, and brandished his knife. My captor’s eyes sparkled; he batted playfully at my assailant, who flew backward into a tree and lay there twitching, blood running from his ears. Left in peace, my knight held me up and sniffed at me. He sat down and ran his hands all over me, taking his gauntlets off to squeeze my skull until I feared it would break like an egg. I had stopped fighting, but I whimpered and tried to wriggle away.
“Do you want to live, little boy?” he asked me in perfectly accented Saxon. He had a high-pitched voice, nasally resonant.
“Yes,” I replied, shocked motionless.
“Then be good, and do not try to run away from me. I will preserve you from death. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He forced my mouth open and examined my teeth. Apparently satisfied, he got up, thrusting me under one arm. Taking the two horses’ bridles, he walked back to the war camp of the Bear with long rolling strides.
It was growing dark, and new fires had been lit. We passed pickets who challenged my captor, and he answered them with smiles and bantering remarks. At last he stopped before a tent and gave a barking order, whereupon a groom hurried out to take the horses and led them away for him. Two other knights sat nearby, leaning back wearily as their squires took off their armor for them. One pointed at me and asked a question.
My captor grinned and said something in fluting reply, hugging me to his chest. One knight smiled a little, but the other scowled and spat into the fire. As my captor bore me into his tent I heard someone mutter
“Amator puer!”
in a disgusted tone.
“Amator puer!”
in a disgusted tone.
It was dark in the tent, and there was no one there to see as he stripped off my clothes and continued his examinations. I attempted to fight again but he held me still and asked, very quietly, “Are you a stupid child? Have you forgot what I said?”
“No.” I was so frightened and furious I was trembling, and I hated the smell of him, so close in there.
“Then listen to me again, Saxon child. I will not hurt you, neither will I outrage you. But if you want to die, keep struggling.”
I held still then and stood silent, hating him. He seemed quite unconcerned
about that; he gave me a cup of wine and a hard cake, and ignored me while I ate and drank. All his attention was on the two knights outside. When he heard them depart into their respective tents, he wrapped me in a cloak and bore me out into the night again.
about that; he gave me a cup of wine and a hard cake, and ignored me while I ate and drank. All his attention was on the two knights outside. When he heard them depart into their respective tents, he wrapped me in a cloak and bore me out into the night again.
At the other end of the camp there was a very fine tent, pitched a little distance from the others. Two men stood before it, deep in conversation. After a moment one went away. The other remained outside the tent a moment, breathing the night air, looking up at the stars. When he lifted the flap and made to go inside, my captor stepped forward.
“Salve, Emres.”
“Invenistine novum tironem, Budu?”
replied the other. He was a tall man and elderly—I thought: his hair and eyebrows were white. His face, however, was smooth and unlined, and there was an easy suppleness to his movements. He was very well dressed, as Britons went. They had a brief conversation and then the one called Emres raised the flap of the tent again, gesturing us inside.
replied the other. He was a tall man and elderly—I thought: his hair and eyebrows were white. His face, however, was smooth and unlined, and there was an easy suppleness to his movements. He was very well dressed, as Britons went. They had a brief conversation and then the one called Emres raised the flap of the tent again, gesturing us inside.
It was so brilliantly lit in there it dazzled my eyes. I was again unrobed, in that white glare, but I dared do no more than clench my fists as the old one examined me. His hands were remarkably soft and clean, and
he
did not smell bad. He stuck me with a pin and dabbed the blood onto the tongue of a little god he had, sitting on a chest; it clicked for a moment and then chattered to him in a tinny voice. He in his turn had a brief conversation with my captor. At its conclusion, Emres pointed at me and asked a question. My captor shrugged. He turned his big head to look at me.
he
did not smell bad. He stuck me with a pin and dabbed the blood onto the tongue of a little god he had, sitting on a chest; it clicked for a moment and then chattered to him in a tinny voice. He in his turn had a brief conversation with my captor. At its conclusion, Emres pointed at me and asked a question. My captor shrugged. He turned his big head to look at me.
“What is your name, little boy?” he asked in Saxon.
“Bricta, son of Baldulf,” I told him. He looked back at Emres.
“Nomen ei Victor est,”
he said.
he said.
The taste in my mouth was unbearable. I hadn’t wanted this recollection, this squalid history! I much preferred time to begin with that first memory of the silver ship that rose skyward from the circle of stones, taking me away to the gleaming hospital and the sweet-faced nurses.
I got unsteadily to my feet, groping after my hat and stick. As I did so I heard the unmistakable sound of an automobile approaching. In another second
a light runabout rattled around the corner and pulled up before me. Labienus sat behind the wheel, no longer the jovial master of ceremonies. He was all hard-eyed centurion now.
a light runabout rattled around the corner and pulled up before me. Labienus sat behind the wheel, no longer the jovial master of ceremonies. He was all hard-eyed centurion now.
“We received your distress signal. Report, please, Victor.”
“I was attacked,” I said dully.
“Tsk! Rather obviously.”
“I … I know it sounds improbable, sir, but I believe my assailant was another operative,” I explained. To my surprise he merely nodded.
“We know his identity. You’ll notice he’s sending quite a distinct signal.”
“Yes.” I looked down the street in wonderment. The signal lay on the air like a trail of green smoke. Why would he signal? “He’s … somewhere in Chinatown.”
“Exactly,” agreed Labienus. “Well, Victor, what do you intend to do about this?”
“Sir?” I looked back at him, confused. Something was wrong here. Some business I hadn’t been briefed about, perhaps? But why—?
“Come, come, man, you’ve a mission to complete! He took the mortal boy! Surely you’ve formed a plan to rescue him?” he prompted.
The hideous taste welled in my mouth. I suppressed an urge to expectorate.
“My team on Nob Hill is more than competent to complete the salvage there without my supervision,” I said, attempting to sound coolly rational. “That being the case, I believe, sir, that I shall seek out the scoundrel who did this to me and jolly well kill him. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“Very good. And?”
“And, of course, recapture my mortal recruit and deliver him to the collection point as planned and according to schedule,” I said. “Sir.”
“See that you do.” Labienus worked both clutch and brake expertly and edged his motor forward, cylinders idling. “Report to my cabin on the
Thunderer
at seven hundred hours for a private debriefing. Is that clear?”
Thunderer
at seven hundred hours for a private debriefing. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear, sir.” So there was some mystery to be explained. Very well.
“You are dismissed.”
“Sir.” I doffed my hat and watched as he drove smoothly away up Market Street.
I replaced my hat and turned in the direction of the signal, probing. My dizziness was fading, burned away by my growing sense of outrage. The filthy
old devil, how dare he do this to me? What was he playing at? I began to walk briskly again, my speed increasing with my strength.
old devil, how dare he do this to me? What was he playing at? I began to walk briskly again, my speed increasing with my strength.
Of course, the vow to kill him hadn’t been meant literally. We do not die. But I’d find some way of paying him out in full measure, I hadn’t the slightest doubt about that. He had the edge on me in strength, but I was swifter and in full possession of my faculties, whereas he was probably drooling mad, the old troll.
Yes, mad, that was the only explanation. There had always been rumors that some of the oldest operatives were flawed somehow, those created earliest, before the augmentation process had been perfected. Budu had been one of the oldest I’d ever met. He had been created more than forty thousand years ago, before the human races had produced their present assortment of representatives.
Now that I thought of it, I hadn’t seen an operative of his racial type
in the field
in years. They held desk jobs at Company bases, or were air transport pilots. I’d assumed this was simply because the modern mortal race was now too homogenous for Budu’s type to pass unnoticed. What if the true reason was that the Company had decided not to take chances with the earlier models? What if there was some risk that all of that particular class were inherently unstable?
in the field
in years. They held desk jobs at Company bases, or were air transport pilots. I’d assumed this was simply because the modern mortal race was now too homogenous for Budu’s type to pass unnoticed. What if the true reason was that the Company had decided not to take chances with the earlier models? What if there was some risk that all of that particular class were inherently unstable?
Good God! No wonder I was expected to handle this matter without assistance. Undoubtedly our masters wanted the whole affair resolved as quietly as possible. They could count on my discretion; I only hoped my ability met their expectations.
Following the signal, I turned left at the corner of Market and Grant. The green trail led straight up Grant as far as Sacramento. What was his game? He was drawing me straight into the depths of the Celestial quarter, a place where I’d be conspicuous were it daylight, but at no particular disadvantage otherwise.
He must intend some kind of dialogue with me. The fact that he had taken a hostage indicated that he wanted our meeting on his terms, under his control. That he felt he needed a hostage could be taken as a sign of weakness on his part. Had his strength begun to fail somehow? Not if his attack on me had been any indication. Though it had been largely a matter of speed and leverage …
I came to the corner of Grant and Sacramento. The signal turned to the left again. It traveled up a block, where it could be observed emanating from a
darkened doorway. I stood considering it for a moment, tapping my stick impatiently against my boot. I spat into the gutter, but it did not take the taste from my mouth.
darkened doorway. I stood considering it for a moment, tapping my stick impatiently against my boot. I spat into the gutter, but it did not take the taste from my mouth.
I walked slowly uphill, past the shops that sold black and scarlet lacquerware and green jade. Here was the Baptist mission, smelling of starch and good intentions. From this lodging-house doorway a heavy perfume of joss sticks; from this doorway a reek of preserved fish. And from this doorway …
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