The rumors and incredible stories swept through Meadenvil
rapidly. Shed heard about the ship from Juniper within hours of her
arrival. He was stunned. The Black Company run out? Crushed by
their masters? That made no sense. What the hell was going on up
there?
His mother. Sal. His friends. What had become of them? If half
the stories were true, Juniper was a desolation. The battle with
the black castle had consumed the city.
He wanted desperately to go find somebody, ask about his people.
He fought the urge. He had to forget his homeland. Knowing that
Croaker and his bunch, the whole thing could be a trick to smoke
him out.
For a day he remained in hiding, in his rented room, debating,
till he convinced himself that he should do nothing. If the Company
was on the run, it would be leaving again. Soon. Its former masters
would be looking for it.
Would the Taken come after him, too? No. They had no quarrel
with him. They did not care about his crimes. Only the Custodians
wanted him . . . He wondered about Bullock,
rotting in prison, accused of Raven’s murder. He did not
understand that at all, but was too nervous to investigate. The
answer was not significant in the equation of Marron Shed’s
survival.
After his day in isolation he decided to resume his quest for a
place of business. He was looking for a partnership in a tavern,
having decided to stick with what he knew.
It had to be a better place. One that would not lead him into
financial difficulties the way the Lily had. Each time he recalled
the Lily, he suffered moments of homesickness and nostalgia, of
bottomless loneliness. He had been a loner all his life, but never
alone. This exile was filled with pain.
He was walking a narrow, shadowed street, slogging uphill
through mud left by a nighttime rain, when something in the corner
of his eye sent chills to the deeps of his soul. He stopped and
whirled so swiftly he knocked another pedestrian down. As he helped
the man rise, apologizing profusely, he glared into the shadows of
an alley.
“Conscience playing tricks on me, I guess,” he
murmured, after parting with his victim. But he knew better. He had
seen it. Had heard his name called softly. He went to the mouth of
the gap between buildings. But it had not waited for him.
A block later he laughed nervously, trying to convince himself
it had been a trick of imagination after all. What the hell would
the castle creatures be doing in Meadenvil? They’d been wiped
out . . . But the Company guys who had fled
here didn’t know that for sure, did they? They had run off
before the fight was over. They just hoped their bosses had won,
because the other side was even worse than theirs.
He was being silly. How could the creature have gotten here? No
ship’s master would sell passage to a thing like that.
“Shed, you’re worrying yourself silly about
nothing.” He entered a tavern called The Ruby Glass, operated
by a man named Selkirk. Shed’s landlord had recommended
both.
Their discussions were fruitful. Shed agreed to return the
following afternoon.
Shed was sharing a beer with his prospective partner. His
proposition seemed beneficial, for Selkirk had satisfied himself as
to his character and now was trying to sell him on the Ruby Glass.
“Night business will pick up once the scare is
over.”
“Scare?”
“Yeah. Some people have disappeared around the
neighborhood. Five or six in the last week. After dark. Not the
kind usually grabbed by the press gangs. So people have been
staying inside. We aren’t getting the usual night
traffic.”
The temperature seemed to drop forty degrees. Shed sat rigid as
a board, eyes vacant, the old fear sliding through him like the
passage of snakes. His fingers rose to the shape of the amulet
hidden beneath his shirt.
“Hey, Marron, what’s the
matter?”
“That’s how it started in Juniper,” he said,
unaware that he was speaking. “Only it was just the dead. But
they wanted them living. If they could get them. I have to
go.”
“Shed? What the hell is wrong?”
He came out of it
momentarily. “Oh. Sorry, Selkirk. Yeah. We have a deal. But
there’s something I have to do first. Something I need to
check on.”
“What?”
“Nothing to do with you. With us. We’re ready to go.
I’ll bring my stuff up tomorrow and we can get together with
the people we need to close the deal legally. I just have something
else to do right now.”
He went out of the place practically running, not sure what he
could do or where he could start, not even if he was sane in his
assumption. But he was sure that what had happened in Juniper would
reoccur in Meadenvil. And a lot faster if the creatures were doing
their own collecting. He touched his amulet again, wondering how
much protection it afforded. Was it puissant? Or just a promise? He
hurried to his rooming house, where people were patient with his
questions, knowing he was from out of town. He asked about Raven.
The murder had been the talk of the town, what with a foreign
policeman having been charged on the accusation of his own men. But
nobody knew anything. There was no eyewitness to Raven’s
death except Asa. And Asa was in Juniper. Probably dead.
The Black Company would not have wanted him turning witness
against them.
He shed an impulse to contact the survivors. They might want him
out of the way, too.
He was on his own with this.
The place where Raven had died seemed a likely place to start.
Who knew where that was? Asa. Asa was not available. Who else? How
about Bullock?
His guts knotted. Bullock represented everything he feared back
home. In a cage here, but still very much a symbol. Could he face
the man? Would the man tell him anything?
Finding Bullock was no problem. The main prison did not move.
Finding the courage to face him, even from beyond bars, was another
matter. But this entire city lay under a shadow.
Torment racked Shed. Guilt cut him apart. He had done things
that left him unable to endure himself. He had committed crimes for
which there was no way of making restitution. Yet here was
something . . .
“You’re a fool, Marron Shed,” he told himself.
“Don’t worry about it. Meadenvil can look out for
itself. Just move on to another city.”
But something deeper than cowardice told him he could not run.
And not just from himself. A creature from the black castle had
appeared in Meadenvil. Two men who had had dealings with the castle
had come here. That could not be coincidence. Suppose he moved on?
What was to keep the creatures from turning up again, wherever he
went?
He had made a deal with a devil. On a gut level he sensed that
the net in which he had been taken had to be unwoven strand by
strand.
He moved the every-day, cowardly Shed to a throne far behind his
eyes and brought forward the Shed who had hunted with Krage and
eventually killed his tormentor.
He did not recall the cock-and-bull story he used to get past
the wards, but did bullshit his way in to see Bullock.
The Inquisitor had lost none of his spirit. He came to the bars
spitting and cursing and promising Shed an excruciating death.
Shed countered, “You ain’t never going to punish
nobody but maybe a cockroach in there. Shut up and listen. Forget
who you were and remember where you are. I’m the only hope
you got of getting out.” Shed was amazed. Could he have been
half as firm without the intervening bars?
Bullock’s face went blank. “Go ahead.
Talk.”
“I don’t know how much you hear in here. Probably
nothing. I’ll run it down. After you left Juniper, the rest
of the Black Company showed up. They took over. Their Lady and
what-not came to town. They attacked the black castle. I
don’t know how that turned out. What word there is makes it
sound like the city was wiped out. During the fighting some of the
Company guys grabbed a ship and got out on account of their masters
were going to turn on them. Why I don’t know.”
Bullock stared at him, considering. “That’s the
truth?”
“From what I’ve heard second-hand.”
“It was those Black Company bastards got me in here.
Framed me. I only had a fight with Raven. Hell, he almost killed
me.”
“He’s dead now.” Shed described what Asa had
seen. “I have a notion what killed him and why. What I need
to know is where it happened. So I can make sure. You tell me that
and I’ll try to get you out.”
“I only know approximately. I know where I caught up with
him and which way him and Asa went when they got away. That should
pin it down pretty close. Why do you want to know?”
“I think the castle creatures planted something on Raven.
Like a seed. I think that’s why he died. Like the man who
brought the original seed to Juniper.”
Bullock frowned.
“Yeah. Sounds tall. But listen to this. The other day I
saw one of the creatures near where I’m staying. Watching me.
Wait! I know what they look like. I met them. Also, people are
disappearing. Not too many yet. Not enough to cause a big stink.
But enough to scare people.”
Bullock moved to the back of his cell, settled on the floor,
placed his back against the wall. He was quiet for more than a
minute. Shed waited nervously. “What’s your interest,
innkeeper?”
“Repayment of a debt. Bullock, the Black
Company kept me prisoner for a while. I learned a lot about that
castle. It was nastier than anybody guessed. It was a doorway of
sorts. Through which a creature called the Dominator was trying to
get into the world. I contributed to the growth of that thing. I
helped it reach the point where it attracted the Black Company and
its sorcerer friends. If Juniper has been destroyed, it’s as
much my fault as anybody’s. Now the same fate threatens
Meadenvil. I can do something to stop it. If I can find
it.”
Bullock sniggered. Sniggers turned into chuckles. Chuckles
became laughter.
“Then rot here!” Shed shouted, and started to leave.
“Wait!” Shed turned.
Bullock stifled his mirth. “Sorry. It’s so
incongruous. You, so righteous. I mean, I really believe you mean
it. All right, Marron Shed. Give it a shot. And if you manage it
and you get me out of here, I might not drag you back to
Juniper.”
“There’s no Juniper to drag me to, Bullock. Rumor
says the Lady planned to loot the Catacombs after she finished the
black castle. You know what that means. All-out
rebellion.”
Bullock’s humor vanished. “Straight down the Shaker
Road, past the twelfth mile marker. Left on the first farm track,
under a dead oak tree. You go at least six miles on that. Way past
the farms. That’s wild country. You better go
armed.”
“Armed?” Shed grinned a big, self-conscious grin.
“Marron Shed never had guts enough to learn to use a weapon.
Thanks.”
“Don’t forget me, Shed. My trial comes up first week
next month.”
“Right.”
Shed dismounted and began leading the rented mule when he
reached a point he estimated to be six miles from the Shaker Road.
He went on another half-mile. The track was little more than a game
trail, winding through rugged country densely covered with
hardwood. He saw no evidence man ever traveled this way. Odd. What
had Raven and Asa been doing out here? He could think of no reason
that made sense. Asa had claimed they were running from Bullock. If
so, why hadn’t they kept on going down the Shaker Road?
His nerves tautened. He touched the amulet, the knife hidden up
his sleeve. He had splurged and bought himself two good short
weapons, one for his belt and one for his sleeve.
They did little to boost his confidence.
The trail turned downhill, toward a brook, ran beside that for
several hundred yards, and debouched into a broad clearing. Shed
almost walked into that. He was a city boy.
Never before had he been into country more wild than the
Enclosure.
Some innate sense of caution stopped him at the clearing’s
edge. He dropped to one knee, parted the undergrowth, cursed softly
when the mule nudged him with its nose.
He had guessed right.
A great black lump stood out there. It was the size of a house
already. Shed stared at faces frozen in screams of terror and
agony.
A perfect place for it, out here. Growing this fast, it would
become complete before anyone discovered it. Unless by accident.
And the accidental discoverer would become one with it.
Shed’s heart hammered. He wanted nothing more than to race
back to Meadenvil and cry the city’s danger in the streets.
He had seen enough. He knew what he had come to learn. Time to get
away.
He went forward, slowly. He dropped the mule’s reins, but
it followed, interested in the tall grass. Shed approached the
black lump carefully, a few steps at a time. Nothing happened. He
circled it.
The shape of the thing became more evident. It would be
identical to the fortress overlooking Juniper, except for the way
its foundations conformed to the earth. Its gate would face south.
A well-beaten path led to a low hole there. Further confirmation of
his suspicions.
Where had the creatures come from? Did they roam the world at
will, hidden on the edge of night, seen only by those who bargained
with them?
Returning to the side from which he had approached, he stumbled
over something.
Bones. Human bones. A skeleton-head, arms, legs, with part of
the chest missing. Still clad in tatters he’d seen Raven wear
a hundred times. He knelt. “Raven. I hated you. But I loved
you, too. You were the worst villain I ever knew. And as good a
friend as I ever had. You made me start thinking like a man.”
Tears filled his eyes.
He searched childhood memories, finally found the prayer for the
passage of the dead. He began to sing in a voice that had no notion
how to carry a tune.
The grass swished only once, just on the edge of audibility. A
hand closed on his shoulder. A voice said, “Marron
Shed.”
Shed shrieked and grabbed for his belt knife.
The rumors and incredible stories swept through Meadenvil
rapidly. Shed heard about the ship from Juniper within hours of her
arrival. He was stunned. The Black Company run out? Crushed by
their masters? That made no sense. What the hell was going on up
there?
His mother. Sal. His friends. What had become of them? If half
the stories were true, Juniper was a desolation. The battle with
the black castle had consumed the city.
He wanted desperately to go find somebody, ask about his people.
He fought the urge. He had to forget his homeland. Knowing that
Croaker and his bunch, the whole thing could be a trick to smoke
him out.
For a day he remained in hiding, in his rented room, debating,
till he convinced himself that he should do nothing. If the Company
was on the run, it would be leaving again. Soon. Its former masters
would be looking for it.
Would the Taken come after him, too? No. They had no quarrel
with him. They did not care about his crimes. Only the Custodians
wanted him . . . He wondered about Bullock,
rotting in prison, accused of Raven’s murder. He did not
understand that at all, but was too nervous to investigate. The
answer was not significant in the equation of Marron Shed’s
survival.
After his day in isolation he decided to resume his quest for a
place of business. He was looking for a partnership in a tavern,
having decided to stick with what he knew.
It had to be a better place. One that would not lead him into
financial difficulties the way the Lily had. Each time he recalled
the Lily, he suffered moments of homesickness and nostalgia, of
bottomless loneliness. He had been a loner all his life, but never
alone. This exile was filled with pain.
He was walking a narrow, shadowed street, slogging uphill
through mud left by a nighttime rain, when something in the corner
of his eye sent chills to the deeps of his soul. He stopped and
whirled so swiftly he knocked another pedestrian down. As he helped
the man rise, apologizing profusely, he glared into the shadows of
an alley.
“Conscience playing tricks on me, I guess,” he
murmured, after parting with his victim. But he knew better. He had
seen it. Had heard his name called softly. He went to the mouth of
the gap between buildings. But it had not waited for him.
A block later he laughed nervously, trying to convince himself
it had been a trick of imagination after all. What the hell would
the castle creatures be doing in Meadenvil? They’d been wiped
out . . . But the Company guys who had fled
here didn’t know that for sure, did they? They had run off
before the fight was over. They just hoped their bosses had won,
because the other side was even worse than theirs.
He was being silly. How could the creature have gotten here? No
ship’s master would sell passage to a thing like that.
“Shed, you’re worrying yourself silly about
nothing.” He entered a tavern called The Ruby Glass, operated
by a man named Selkirk. Shed’s landlord had recommended
both.
Their discussions were fruitful. Shed agreed to return the
following afternoon.
Shed was sharing a beer with his prospective partner. His
proposition seemed beneficial, for Selkirk had satisfied himself as
to his character and now was trying to sell him on the Ruby Glass.
“Night business will pick up once the scare is
over.”
“Scare?”
“Yeah. Some people have disappeared around the
neighborhood. Five or six in the last week. After dark. Not the
kind usually grabbed by the press gangs. So people have been
staying inside. We aren’t getting the usual night
traffic.”
The temperature seemed to drop forty degrees. Shed sat rigid as
a board, eyes vacant, the old fear sliding through him like the
passage of snakes. His fingers rose to the shape of the amulet
hidden beneath his shirt.
“Hey, Marron, what’s the
matter?”
“That’s how it started in Juniper,” he said,
unaware that he was speaking. “Only it was just the dead. But
they wanted them living. If they could get them. I have to
go.”
“Shed? What the hell is wrong?”
He came out of it
momentarily. “Oh. Sorry, Selkirk. Yeah. We have a deal. But
there’s something I have to do first. Something I need to
check on.”
“What?”
“Nothing to do with you. With us. We’re ready to go.
I’ll bring my stuff up tomorrow and we can get together with
the people we need to close the deal legally. I just have something
else to do right now.”
He went out of the place practically running, not sure what he
could do or where he could start, not even if he was sane in his
assumption. But he was sure that what had happened in Juniper would
reoccur in Meadenvil. And a lot faster if the creatures were doing
their own collecting. He touched his amulet again, wondering how
much protection it afforded. Was it puissant? Or just a promise? He
hurried to his rooming house, where people were patient with his
questions, knowing he was from out of town. He asked about Raven.
The murder had been the talk of the town, what with a foreign
policeman having been charged on the accusation of his own men. But
nobody knew anything. There was no eyewitness to Raven’s
death except Asa. And Asa was in Juniper. Probably dead.
The Black Company would not have wanted him turning witness
against them.
He shed an impulse to contact the survivors. They might want him
out of the way, too.
He was on his own with this.
The place where Raven had died seemed a likely place to start.
Who knew where that was? Asa. Asa was not available. Who else? How
about Bullock?
His guts knotted. Bullock represented everything he feared back
home. In a cage here, but still very much a symbol. Could he face
the man? Would the man tell him anything?
Finding Bullock was no problem. The main prison did not move.
Finding the courage to face him, even from beyond bars, was another
matter. But this entire city lay under a shadow.
Torment racked Shed. Guilt cut him apart. He had done things
that left him unable to endure himself. He had committed crimes for
which there was no way of making restitution. Yet here was
something . . .
“You’re a fool, Marron Shed,” he told himself.
“Don’t worry about it. Meadenvil can look out for
itself. Just move on to another city.”
But something deeper than cowardice told him he could not run.
And not just from himself. A creature from the black castle had
appeared in Meadenvil. Two men who had had dealings with the castle
had come here. That could not be coincidence. Suppose he moved on?
What was to keep the creatures from turning up again, wherever he
went?
He had made a deal with a devil. On a gut level he sensed that
the net in which he had been taken had to be unwoven strand by
strand.
He moved the every-day, cowardly Shed to a throne far behind his
eyes and brought forward the Shed who had hunted with Krage and
eventually killed his tormentor.
He did not recall the cock-and-bull story he used to get past
the wards, but did bullshit his way in to see Bullock.
The Inquisitor had lost none of his spirit. He came to the bars
spitting and cursing and promising Shed an excruciating death.
Shed countered, “You ain’t never going to punish
nobody but maybe a cockroach in there. Shut up and listen. Forget
who you were and remember where you are. I’m the only hope
you got of getting out.” Shed was amazed. Could he have been
half as firm without the intervening bars?
Bullock’s face went blank. “Go ahead.
Talk.”
“I don’t know how much you hear in here. Probably
nothing. I’ll run it down. After you left Juniper, the rest
of the Black Company showed up. They took over. Their Lady and
what-not came to town. They attacked the black castle. I
don’t know how that turned out. What word there is makes it
sound like the city was wiped out. During the fighting some of the
Company guys grabbed a ship and got out on account of their masters
were going to turn on them. Why I don’t know.”
Bullock stared at him, considering. “That’s the
truth?”
“From what I’ve heard second-hand.”
“It was those Black Company bastards got me in here.
Framed me. I only had a fight with Raven. Hell, he almost killed
me.”
“He’s dead now.” Shed described what Asa had
seen. “I have a notion what killed him and why. What I need
to know is where it happened. So I can make sure. You tell me that
and I’ll try to get you out.”
“I only know approximately. I know where I caught up with
him and which way him and Asa went when they got away. That should
pin it down pretty close. Why do you want to know?”
“I think the castle creatures planted something on Raven.
Like a seed. I think that’s why he died. Like the man who
brought the original seed to Juniper.”
Bullock frowned.
“Yeah. Sounds tall. But listen to this. The other day I
saw one of the creatures near where I’m staying. Watching me.
Wait! I know what they look like. I met them. Also, people are
disappearing. Not too many yet. Not enough to cause a big stink.
But enough to scare people.”
Bullock moved to the back of his cell, settled on the floor,
placed his back against the wall. He was quiet for more than a
minute. Shed waited nervously. “What’s your interest,
innkeeper?”
“Repayment of a debt. Bullock, the Black
Company kept me prisoner for a while. I learned a lot about that
castle. It was nastier than anybody guessed. It was a doorway of
sorts. Through which a creature called the Dominator was trying to
get into the world. I contributed to the growth of that thing. I
helped it reach the point where it attracted the Black Company and
its sorcerer friends. If Juniper has been destroyed, it’s as
much my fault as anybody’s. Now the same fate threatens
Meadenvil. I can do something to stop it. If I can find
it.”
Bullock sniggered. Sniggers turned into chuckles. Chuckles
became laughter.
“Then rot here!” Shed shouted, and started to leave.
“Wait!” Shed turned.
Bullock stifled his mirth. “Sorry. It’s so
incongruous. You, so righteous. I mean, I really believe you mean
it. All right, Marron Shed. Give it a shot. And if you manage it
and you get me out of here, I might not drag you back to
Juniper.”
“There’s no Juniper to drag me to, Bullock. Rumor
says the Lady planned to loot the Catacombs after she finished the
black castle. You know what that means. All-out
rebellion.”
Bullock’s humor vanished. “Straight down the Shaker
Road, past the twelfth mile marker. Left on the first farm track,
under a dead oak tree. You go at least six miles on that. Way past
the farms. That’s wild country. You better go
armed.”
“Armed?” Shed grinned a big, self-conscious grin.
“Marron Shed never had guts enough to learn to use a weapon.
Thanks.”
“Don’t forget me, Shed. My trial comes up first week
next month.”
“Right.”
Shed dismounted and began leading the rented mule when he
reached a point he estimated to be six miles from the Shaker Road.
He went on another half-mile. The track was little more than a game
trail, winding through rugged country densely covered with
hardwood. He saw no evidence man ever traveled this way. Odd. What
had Raven and Asa been doing out here? He could think of no reason
that made sense. Asa had claimed they were running from Bullock. If
so, why hadn’t they kept on going down the Shaker Road?
His nerves tautened. He touched the amulet, the knife hidden up
his sleeve. He had splurged and bought himself two good short
weapons, one for his belt and one for his sleeve.
They did little to boost his confidence.
The trail turned downhill, toward a brook, ran beside that for
several hundred yards, and debouched into a broad clearing. Shed
almost walked into that. He was a city boy.
Never before had he been into country more wild than the
Enclosure.
Some innate sense of caution stopped him at the clearing’s
edge. He dropped to one knee, parted the undergrowth, cursed softly
when the mule nudged him with its nose.
He had guessed right.
A great black lump stood out there. It was the size of a house
already. Shed stared at faces frozen in screams of terror and
agony.
A perfect place for it, out here. Growing this fast, it would
become complete before anyone discovered it. Unless by accident.
And the accidental discoverer would become one with it.
Shed’s heart hammered. He wanted nothing more than to race
back to Meadenvil and cry the city’s danger in the streets.
He had seen enough. He knew what he had come to learn. Time to get
away.
He went forward, slowly. He dropped the mule’s reins, but
it followed, interested in the tall grass. Shed approached the
black lump carefully, a few steps at a time. Nothing happened. He
circled it.
The shape of the thing became more evident. It would be
identical to the fortress overlooking Juniper, except for the way
its foundations conformed to the earth. Its gate would face south.
A well-beaten path led to a low hole there. Further confirmation of
his suspicions.
Where had the creatures come from? Did they roam the world at
will, hidden on the edge of night, seen only by those who bargained
with them?
Returning to the side from which he had approached, he stumbled
over something.
Bones. Human bones. A skeleton-head, arms, legs, with part of
the chest missing. Still clad in tatters he’d seen Raven wear
a hundred times. He knelt. “Raven. I hated you. But I loved
you, too. You were the worst villain I ever knew. And as good a
friend as I ever had. You made me start thinking like a man.”
Tears filled his eyes.
He searched childhood memories, finally found the prayer for the
passage of the dead. He began to sing in a voice that had no notion
how to carry a tune.
The grass swished only once, just on the edge of audibility. A
hand closed on his shoulder. A voice said, “Marron
Shed.”
Shed shrieked and grabbed for his belt knife.