Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell
the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not
believe it, or did not care.
Then Bullock’s sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a
valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only
people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his
nerves and guilt, went to the man’s table. “How may we
serve you, Reverend Sir?”
“Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord.”
Shed lifted an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I’ll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give
away meals.”
“Ain’t it the truth, sir. Ain’t it the
truth.”
When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed,
“You seem to be doing well, landlord.”
Shed snorted. “We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the
ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter
borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was
good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things.
That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp
before it gets away.” He donned his sourest face.
The Inquisitor nodded. “Leave the bottle. Let the
Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity.”
“I’ll ask no profit, Reverend Sir.”
“Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone
else.”
Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was
glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left him stuck with
several.
When Shed delivered the meal, the Inquisitor
suggested,”Bring a mug and join me.”
Shed’s nerves twisted as tight as a bowstring. Something
was wrong. They had caught on. “As you wish, Reverend
Sir.” He dragged over and collected his own mug. It was
dusty. He had not done much drinking lately, afraid his tongue
would wag.
“Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You
haven’t done anything. Have you? I don’t even know your
name.”
“Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been
in my family for three generations.”
“Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling
by the wayside nowadays.”
“As you say, Reverend Sir.”
“I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won’t you
calm down?”
“How may I help you, Reverend Sir?”
“I’m looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a
regular here.”
“So he was, sir,” Shed admitted. “I knew him
well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his
name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous
in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the
winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring
wood for the fire.”
The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth.
He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of the
Custodians.
“Do you know where he acquired the wood?”
Shed pretended acute embarrassment. “He collected itin the
Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It
wasn’t against the law. But it seemed reprehensible
anyway.”
The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. “No failing
on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn’t discourage
gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too
seedy.”
“Why are you looking for Asa, then?”
“I understand he worked for a man named Krage.”
“Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the
Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it
didn’t last.”
“So I heard. It’s the timing of their falling-out
that intrigues me.”
“Sir?”
“Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa,
about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody
got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage
urns.”
Shed tried to look properly horrified. “Krage and Asa did
that?”
“Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he
began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was
petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he
gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a
big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa
had any conscience.”
“Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a
guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He
hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he
wasn’t doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he
never did anything very well. But that doesn’t invalidate
your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a
lot.”
“What was the relationship between Asa and
Raven?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Where is Raven now?”
“He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the
harbor.”
The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. “What
became of Krage?”
“Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It’s one of the great
mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he
wasn’t. There were all kinds of rumors.”
“Could he have left Juniper, too?”
“Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn’t
tell anybody. The people who worked for him don’t know
anything, either.”
“Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the
Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?”
Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. “I
don’t . . . I don’t understand what
you’re asking, sir.”
“Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were
put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect
a sum of gold may have been involved.”
Shed gaped. He hadn’t seen any gold. The man was lying.
Why? Laying traps?
“It was a major plundering operation. We’d very much
like to ask Asa some questions.”
“I can imagine.” Shed bit his lip. He thought hard.
“Sir, I can’t tell you what became of Krage. But I
think Asa took ship for the south.” He went into a long
song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with
Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned
later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had
vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on
the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the South. “I
never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going
somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him.”
“Do you recall what ship?”
“Sir?”
“What ship did he take?”
“I didn’t actually see him board a ship, sir. I just
assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would
have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in
trouble. I guess he’s in trouble now, eh?”
“Maybe. The evidence isn’t conclusive. But I’m
morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn’t see
Krage on the dock, did you?”
“No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to
see the first ships off. It’s like a holiday.” Was the
Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn’t
somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black
castle.
The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. “I was afraid
you’d tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no
choice.”
Shed’s heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed
through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run
for it.
“I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock
or I will have to go after those people. Guess who’ll get
stuck?”
Relief swamped Shed. “Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the
law down there doesn’t recognize the Brotherhood’s
right . . . ”
“Won’t be easy, will it? The barbarians just
don’t understand us.” He poured some wine, stared into
it for a long while. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Marron
Shed. You’ve been very helpful.”
Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. “Anything else,
Reverend Sir?”
“Wish me luck.”
“Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very
evening.”
The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you.” He resumed
staring into his mug.
He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The
Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up
with Asa?
Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell
the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not
believe it, or did not care.
Then Bullock’s sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a
valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only
people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his
nerves and guilt, went to the man’s table. “How may we
serve you, Reverend Sir?”
“Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord.”
Shed lifted an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“I’ll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give
away meals.”
“Ain’t it the truth, sir. Ain’t it the
truth.”
When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed,
“You seem to be doing well, landlord.”
Shed snorted. “We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the
ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter
borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was
good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things.
That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp
before it gets away.” He donned his sourest face.
The Inquisitor nodded. “Leave the bottle. Let the
Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity.”
“I’ll ask no profit, Reverend Sir.”
“Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone
else.”
Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was
glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left him stuck with
several.
When Shed delivered the meal, the Inquisitor
suggested,”Bring a mug and join me.”
Shed’s nerves twisted as tight as a bowstring. Something
was wrong. They had caught on. “As you wish, Reverend
Sir.” He dragged over and collected his own mug. It was
dusty. He had not done much drinking lately, afraid his tongue
would wag.
“Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You
haven’t done anything. Have you? I don’t even know your
name.”
“Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been
in my family for three generations.”
“Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling
by the wayside nowadays.”
“As you say, Reverend Sir.”
“I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won’t you
calm down?”
“How may I help you, Reverend Sir?”
“I’m looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a
regular here.”
“So he was, sir,” Shed admitted. “I knew him
well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his
name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous
in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the
winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring
wood for the fire.”
The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth.
He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of the
Custodians.
“Do you know where he acquired the wood?”
Shed pretended acute embarrassment. “He collected itin the
Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It
wasn’t against the law. But it seemed reprehensible
anyway.”
The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. “No failing
on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn’t discourage
gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too
seedy.”
“Why are you looking for Asa, then?”
“I understand he worked for a man named Krage.”
“Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the
Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it
didn’t last.”
“So I heard. It’s the timing of their falling-out
that intrigues me.”
“Sir?”
“Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa,
about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody
got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage
urns.”
Shed tried to look properly horrified. “Krage and Asa did
that?”
“Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he
began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was
petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he
gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a
big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa
had any conscience.”
“Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a
guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He
hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he
wasn’t doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he
never did anything very well. But that doesn’t invalidate
your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a
lot.”
“What was the relationship between Asa and
Raven?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“Where is Raven now?”
“He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the
harbor.”
The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. “What
became of Krage?”
“Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It’s one of the great
mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he
wasn’t. There were all kinds of rumors.”
“Could he have left Juniper, too?”
“Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn’t
tell anybody. The people who worked for him don’t know
anything, either.”
“Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the
Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?”
Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. “I
don’t . . . I don’t understand what
you’re asking, sir.”
“Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were
put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect
a sum of gold may have been involved.”
Shed gaped. He hadn’t seen any gold. The man was lying.
Why? Laying traps?
“It was a major plundering operation. We’d very much
like to ask Asa some questions.”
“I can imagine.” Shed bit his lip. He thought hard.
“Sir, I can’t tell you what became of Krage. But I
think Asa took ship for the south.” He went into a long
song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with
Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned
later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had
vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on
the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the South. “I
never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going
somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him.”
“Do you recall what ship?”
“Sir?”
“What ship did he take?”
“I didn’t actually see him board a ship, sir. I just
assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would
have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in
trouble. I guess he’s in trouble now, eh?”
“Maybe. The evidence isn’t conclusive. But I’m
morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn’t see
Krage on the dock, did you?”
“No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to
see the first ships off. It’s like a holiday.” Was the
Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn’t
somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black
castle.
The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. “I was afraid
you’d tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no
choice.”
Shed’s heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed
through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run
for it.
“I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock
or I will have to go after those people. Guess who’ll get
stuck?”
Relief swamped Shed. “Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the
law down there doesn’t recognize the Brotherhood’s
right . . . ”
“Won’t be easy, will it? The barbarians just
don’t understand us.” He poured some wine, stared into
it for a long while. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Marron
Shed. You’ve been very helpful.”
Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. “Anything else,
Reverend Sir?”
“Wish me luck.”
“Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very
evening.”
The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you.” He resumed
staring into his mug.
He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The
Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up
with Asa?