A Prince Among Men Part 18

"Perhaps not. It may not yet be safe to let her know you live."

"What do you mean?" John felt suddenly anxious. What had he missed?

"Don't worry unduly. I only meant to suggest caution. Trashcan Harry's disappearance may mean nothing; or it may mean that someone who was seeking him, or us, has found him. We should be cautious for a while."

"I'm tired of looking over my shoulder."

"Even were you to go back, it wouldn't stop. Willingly or not, you've been involved in significant events. Events, or their creators, will involve you again. Willingly or not."

"You making some kind of occult prediction?"

"You know I don't do that. I'm just speaking from past experience."

"How far past?"

"You're deliberately being difficult. I'm just trying to point out something that will improve your chances of making something of what has been handed to you. Your old life is gone and you can't have it back. You have to deal with what you do have, with the here and now. Failing to learn from what is happening around you is asking to be handed your head. The serpent lies in wait for the unwary."

"Dump the aphorisms. This isn't one of your lectures to the Dons."

"You make it sound like aphorisms are worthless and boring. That's a cheap shot. There is acc.u.mulated wisdom in such sayings. Hard-earned wisdom. To dismiss something just because it's old is to throw away wisdom. The Dons are learning that. They've learned a lot since we've been here."

"And we haven't?"

Bear laughed. "Yes, we've learned, too. But I think they've come further. We're just learning the outside of the way they live here. Haven't you been watching them? They're changing inside and learning how wrong they were to follow a serpent-lover like Ferd. They're beginning to see l he inherent weakness of the rule of simple might. They're learning important things. You're helping me teach them."

"You don't need me."

"No, I don't."

Blunt, but not very rea.s.suring. John was surprised to fee! I hat he wanted Bear to say that he did need John. Hadn't this guy's entry into his life trashed his life? "You want to teach a lesson so much? What are you wasting your time here for? I he whole world needs the lesson you say you're trying to teach these people."

Bear sighed tiredly. "Some things never change."

"So what if you get what you want here? What difference will one educated gang make to the world?"

"As much difference as anyone can make. Haven't I made a difference with these folks?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm just one man."

"So?"

"So. One man can make a difference."

John didn't want to hear it. He folded his arms. "One man can shoot you dead."

"And one man can save you. Under the right circ.u.mstances." Bear gave John a chance to respond, but when it was clear that he wouldn't, the warlord went on. "When I said that I didn't need you, I was telling the truth. But it was a simple, incomplete truth. Other people could have taught me what you have. Other people could continue the job; the Good Lord knows I still need teaching about this concrete and plastic world of yours. There's so much about the way people live here that is familiar to me, but there is even more that is totally strange. I've never liked strangeness much, Jack. You've helped me with the strangeness more than anyone, and I am grateful. I want to do something for you."

"There's nothing you can do for me." That you haven't already done to me, that is.

"I could take you on as my comes."

"Say what?"

Bear's brow furrowed as he sought a way to explain himself. "The word that comes to my mind is 'man,' but that doesn't explain it right. Not with the way I've heard the word used recently. Companion of my house, maybe?"

"You mean like a squire?" An unaccountable thrill electrified him. King Arthur's squire? Even if this guy wasn't Mal-lory's Arthur, he was still a legend maker. His squire! John reined in his enthusiasm, fought it back. This guy was a gang warlord, not a king. Who needed, even wanted, to be his squire?

"Squire?" Bear was saying. "Don't know the word. What does it mean?"

Without thinking, John answered, "A squire is sort of a student to a knight, learning how to be a knight himself, but it's more than that. They have a sort of deal where the squire does things for the knight, going where he goes and fighting whoever he fights. The knight is supposed to teach the squire how to fight and how to behave in polite society."

Nodding, Bear ran his fingers through his beard.

"The exchange of obligations sounds familiar, but I don't understand that polite-society part. Most of the warriors I knew had their own society. It was polite in its own way, though, I guess.

"As for teaching you how to fight, you already seem to have a grasp of that, and much of what I know is very outdated. For what it's worth, I can teach you what I know.

"Behavior, now. That's different. There are still ways of thinking, ways of dealing with people, that seem to have applications today. I've had some success in those areas. I'll teach you what I know of that, if you like.

"And you talked about a squire fighting for his knight, but you didn't say anything about the other side of that coin. A lord must care for his men. That I will do for you by all means in my power. Being warlord of the Dons is a position of no small local authority. Further, I can offer you my own roof and give you of my wealth. These are all things I can do lor you."

Some roof. As a member of the Dons, John was already a.s.sured of a place in MaxMix Manor. He looked around at the dingy walls and the battered furnishings. Some wealth. Bear watched him and smiled.

"Things will get better," he said.

"There are a lot of people around here who would as soon see me gone. I'm not useful to your position here among the Dons. Why are you making this offer?"

Bear was quiet for a moment. "I don't always operate simply for advantage."

"Don't you?"

"Jack, you stood by me when you didn't have to. I came into your world almost like a child. Here in the sprawl, we've sort of grown up together. Certainly we've shared trouble together. I've started to put together something here, but there's a long way to go, and I need reliable people around me, people I can count on. You've been steadfast all along. Now that I have position, I want to reward that steadfastness. Becoming a comes used to be considered an honor."

"Yeah? Well, I'm honored."

Patiently, Bear said, "You don't have to decide right now."

"I won't. Let me think about it."

CHAPTER.

13.

Trashcan Harry came sneaking back to MaxMix Manor about an hour after dark. Things had been quiet in the 'hood so there wasn't a forma! guard posted, but John was watching. Taking Faye's advice, he'd selected a place to the north side of the porch where he could keep an eye on the back door as well as the front. It was a good spot for lurking; River Street's currently operating lights threw shadows that wrapped the position in darkness. From those shadows, John could watch and remain mostly hidden.

Eyeing the darkened building suspiciously, Trashcan Harry deliberately bypa.s.sed the front door and cut around toward the back.

"What's wrong with the front door, Trashcan?"

The ugly little man jumped. "s.h.i.t, Jack! Don't do that."

"You're nervous tonight." But not nervous enough to go for a weapon. Things couldn't be too bad.

"h.e.l.l, anybody'd be nervous with you popping out like that. Just like-well, never mind. I was wanting to talk to you, Jack."

"About where you've been?" "Kinda." Trashcan Harry hesitated for a bit, as if he wasn't sure what he ought to say.

"Jack, are you happy here?"

That wasn't what John was expecting. Caught off guard, John answered with a question of his own. "What kind of a question is that?"

"It don't mean nothing. Just asking."

John's happiness was a strange sort of thing for Trashcan Harry to be thinking about. Wondering where it might lead, John fed him a line that was true but didn't commit John to anything. "I have to admit I never really saw myself spending my life as a lieutenant to a gang boss."

"Yeah, you were made for better." Trashcan Harry looked around, apparently to see if anyone else was in listening distance. He didn't find anyone. "I been hearing things, Jack. Not good things, either. There's trouble coming."

"The Jackals?" The east-side gang had a long-term enmity with the Dons.

"Not exactly."

"Cops cracking down again?" They'd tried a sweep to pick up indigents a month ago. It hadn't made them popular in a neighborhood where most of the people fit the cops' definition of indigent.

"It's Art-I mean Bear. He's gonna get us all in trouble."

Us? "Is he now?"

"Uh-huh. But we don't gotta let him."

We? "We don't?"

"We can get out of here before he drags us down with him."

Wasn't this down enough? "Getting out" had gotten John here. "Running is easy. Getting somewhere is hard. Where would we go?"

"There's this guy, Jack." Reacting to John's raised eyebrow, Trashcan Harry eagerly added, "He's a good guy, Jack. He can help us."

"Why would he want to?" "I, uh, I done some work for him before. He, uh, he owes me a favor. I'd call it in for you, Jack. Don't wanna see anything bad happen to you."

Why was Trashcan so worried about John? "I don't want to see anything bad happen to me either."

"Then you'll come talk to him?"

"Who said anything about talking to anybody?"

"Didn't-oh, s.h.i.t-I was supposed to. Didn't I?"

"You know, Trashcan Harry, I think you just did. But you still haven't told me who this guy is."

"He, uh, he said I shouldn't. It could get him in trouble around here: But he's a good guy. Really!"

"A mysterious benefactor, huh? Do we have to meet him in a bar? Will he be wearing a hooded cloak? Speak in an obviously disguised voice?" Harry looked increasingly confused by the questions, so John cut out the teasing. "I suppose he wants to see me tonight."

Harry nodded. "That'd be good."

"Alone?"

"I'll be there."

"How comforting."

"Then you'll come?"

The whole deal sounded suspicious, but John didn't really like life in the sprawl's underbelly. If this was a legitimate offer of a way out, he'd be a fool to ignore it. And if it was some kind of plot to get an angle on Bear or the Dons, John would have a chance to uncover it. He could be a hero. He could be a dead hero, if things went sour. But then, he already had a gravestone.

"Sure, why not?"

The Friary was up Division Street and situated in the neutral zone between Don, Jackal, and Ferals territories. It had once been a church, deconsecrated after the economic slump had pushed its parishioners into penury and out of the neighborhood. In the last throes of an attempt to revitalize the area, an entrepreneur had remodeled it into a cla.s.sy restaurant. He'd lost his shirt.

The current owner still ran it as a restaurant, and though the bar far outgrossed the restaurant part, the place still had enough pretensions that it maintained a few private dining rooms. Those rooms were made up to look like monks' cells, but the people who spent time in those rooms would have been more at home in other kinds of cells; a lot of the Friary's clientele didn't do business that was sanctified, or even legal.

The flickering electric torch on the wall outside the cell didn't shed much light, but it illuminated the long coat hung on the hook by the door. There was something familiar about the cut of the coat, but John didn't get time to dredge up the memory, because Trashcan Harry opened the door and ushered him into the small room. One person was seated at the table that filled most of the s.p.a.ce. Electric candlelight flickered off his silver hair and chased shadows across his fine-boned face.

It was Bennett.

John halted in the doorway, ignoring Trashcan Harry's urging. Smiling, Bennett indicated the empty s.p.a.ce opposite him with a wave of his long-fingered hand.

John hesitated. Well, if Bennett wanted to do something other than talk, they'd already be into it. Leaving Trashcan standing by the door, John sat.

"So you're the mysterious benefactor."

Bennett was silent for a beat, then said, "So I could be termed."