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Wake of the Bloody Angel
4
Доступ к книге ограничен фрагменом по требованию правообладателя.
“Then he’s the one man in the world who is,” Jane said. “Now, do what I say. Please, for everyone’s sake, okay? You’re both out of your league here. Eddie and I do this for a living.”
The old man tried to say something else, but he had no wind left. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed beside the tree, rolling down the slight slope to land in the wet leaves at my feet.
I stuck my sword in the ground and knelt over him. I heard Jane tell his son, “Stay put. If you so much as think about running away, I’ll catch you and geld you before sundown.”
Then she was on her knees on the other side of the fallen man. She bent and put her ear to his mouth, listening for breath. When she found none, she put her lips over the old man’s and repeatedly blew hard into his lungs.
Meanwhile, I ripped open his tunic to expose his pale, still- muscular chest. I put my palm flat over his heart and felt nothing. I drove my fist into the back of my hand, trying to get his heart going again, just as a moon priestess once showed me on a battlefield. Sometimes this worked; most of the time it didn’t. And it was tricky not to break a rib and puncture a lung. But any chance was better than none.
And in this case, luck was with us. After the third whack, his whole body spasmed and he began to cough. Jane looked back at his son, still standing where she’d left him. “Go get the canteen off my saddle. And no funny stuff.”
He left, while Jane and I helped the old man sit up. He was now a bad shade of pale blue, and I knew we’d just stirred the coals and not really restoked the furnace. “My son didn’t do anything wrong,” he wheezed. I admired his tenacity. “He’s innocent, I tell you.”
“Look, pops, let it go,” Jane said patiently. “It’s not for us to say. My job is to take him from point A to point B, that’s all. Guilt or innocence is way above my pay grade.”
He looked at me. “And you?”
“I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”
The son returned with the canteen, and his father sipped from it. The younger man looked at Jane and said, “Now what?”
“Well, now we take pops back home and make sure he’s comfortable, then we finish taking you to jail.”
“How can you do that? You taking me to jail is what nearly killed him!”
Jane jumped up, grabbed the front of his tunic, and yanked him nose to nose. “I’ve about had it with you simpering barn swallows questioning my ethics. What nearly killed pops here was running uphill after cutting you loose.” She shoved him back. “Now, if you want to help take him home, pick him up and carry him to his wagon. If you don’t, you can just stay here tied to a tree until we come back. It’s your call, so make it. Now! ”
Sensibly, the boy gently picked up his father. He might really have been innocent of whatever crime he was accused of, but as Jane said, that wasn’t her problem. And that was what I liked about her. She looked at the world the same way I did, and operated under the same rules.
After we delivered the old man back home, where his wife shed copious tears both for his return and her son’s imminent departure, we took the boy on to Barre Dumoth. We arrived at sunset.
It was an old manor town, where the population lived and died at the pleasure of the lord, who owned everything. There weren’t many of these left in Muscodia, and the ones that remained fiercely guarded their power. We had to wait while the sentries at the town gate sent a message ahead to Lord Corrett.
When we got to the jail, Corett was waiting under the watchful gaze of two bulky, out-of-shape bodyguards. He was a tall, smooth- faced man with bad taste in expensive clothes. He regarded Jane with contempt as he paid her for her job, individually doling out each gold coin.
When he finished, Jane smiled and said, “Pleasure doing business with you.”
The nearest bodyguard jabbed her shoulder with his fingers and prompted, “My lord.”
Jane’s glare could’ve melted rock. “Poke me again, lard bucket, and I’ll fold you up so you can lick your balls like a dog.”
“The prisoner is ensconced in his cell?” Corrett asked in a blase near-yawn. His voice was like the tines of a fork scraping across a plate.
“Yes, sir,” the jailer said. He stood at attention beside the cell door and gestured inside. The young man sat on the straw, rubbing at the metal collar clamped around his neck. When he saw Corrett, the boy hissed, “Proud of yourself, my lord?” He spat the last two words.
“My pride has nothing to do with this.”
“This is all about your pride! Elaine prefers me to a driedup prick like you, and your ego can’t stand it!”
“Gag him,” Corrett said with a casual wave of his hand. The jailer pretended not to hear.
I asked Corrett, “What exactly did he do?”
“He stole my best horse, not that it’s any concern of yours.” His accent on the final word carried enough contempt to bury a man standing up. He gestured at the portly escorts. “My guards found it tied outside his hovel.”
“That’s bullshit!” the boy yelled. “They planted that horse and you know it!”
“Gag him,” Corrett said again, enunciating each word. “And now you must excuse me, I have a young woman to visit. She’ll be delighted to learn that this rascal will no longer be forcing his attentions on her.”
He and his entourage swept from the jail. The jailer sighed, took the uncomfortable-looking leather gag from its wall hook, and opened the cell.
Jane watched the jailer buckle it around the boy’s head. She asked quietly, “You really didn’t steal that horse, did you?”
The boy shook his head. Drool already trailed down his chin.
“Course he didn’t,” the jailer said as he emerged from the cell. “Doesn’t matter, though. Man like Corrett can do what he wants with us commoners. He even owns the boots on our feet.”
He froze when he felt the tip of Jane’s dagger at his throat. I took the keys from his belt and went to unlock the gag. He raised his hands and said, “Just beat me up so it looks like I put up a fight, okay? I need this job.”
Later, as we sat in the nearest tavern, we heard the commotion when the jailbreak was discovered. There was lots of shouting, and eventually a half-dozen men on horseback tore out of town.
All innocence, Jane asked a stooped, bearded man who’d just entered, “Wow, what happened out there?”
“Horse thief escaped,” he said. “Beat up Clyde over at the jail. Lord Corrett’s guards went after him, but it looks like he’s got a good head start.”
Jane thanked him, then raised her ale mug in a toast and said softly, “To the good guys.”
“If only there were more than just me and you,” I added as we clinked mugs and drank.
“Guess we won’t be coming back to Barre Dumoth for a while,” Jane said. “So now I’m on your payroll. We’re looking for a pirate, who may or may not be dead, somewhere in the whole wide wet world. Where do we start, boss?”
“At the scene of the crime,” I said. “Where he met my client.”
Chapter Three
As we rode away from the Argo cottage, Miles watched us from the door. Jane had unchained him, since we had no idea how long we’d be away. Neither he, she, nor I harbored any delusions about what he’d be up to in her absence. When he was out of sight, Jane asked, “Since I’m working for you now, trying to find a long-lost pirate and his treasure, shouldn’t you tell me who our client is?”
“Not the treasure, just the pirate,” I repeated. “And the client is-” I hesitated because I knew what her reaction would be. “-Angelina.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Angie?” Jane barked, laughing loud enough to startle birds from the nearby trees. My horse, Baxter, tossed his head, annoyed by the sharp, shrill noise. “The great ice queen Angelina hired you to find her old pirate boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“That’s crazy! I’ve been passing through Neceda and stopping at her tavern for years, and I’ve never seen her interested in a man. Or a woman. Or anyone.”
“Yeah, she’s been the reigning Miss Anthropy as long as I’ve known her. But I think this guy Edward Tew is the reason.”
Jane giggled like a princess with a secret. “Crazy. That’s the only word. Angelina in love. That’s like imagining me cooking dinner. So where did they meet?”
“Watchorn Harbor in Cotovatry.”
“I know it. Fairly big port. What do you think we’ll find there after all this time?”
“Nothing, probably. But maybe somebody remembers them, and knows what happened to Tew. It’s one end of the string that’s tied to our man.”
“And his treasure,” she added.
I glared at her. “Stop that. Seriously.”
She threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, you win. But you know, pirates don’t generally last twenty years. It’s a tough trade. If he’s not dead, he’s probably changed his name and started a whole new life.”
“Are you going to be such a beacon of optimism on the whole trip?”
“Just so we’re clear, I get paid whether we find him or not, right?”
“That’s the deal.”
She sighed and shook her head. “That soft heart of yours is going to be the death of you one day, Eddie, you know that?”
I said nothing. My heart had once hardened beyond recognition, and I hated the man I became then. If being softhearted took a few years off my life, it seemed a fair trade for being human again.
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