Adventures Of Myhr Part 30

Terrin's fault. Like any really good wizard he knew all about the art of misdirection.

"Does this require killing me?"

He did a double-take. His face screwed up. He was all over offended. Shocked, even. "Jeez-louise, NO!!".

Thatwas a relief.

"What ever gave you such a fizzy-headed idea?"

"It's been my understanding," I said with much dignity, "that most people have to be dead to go to h.e.l.l,"

"Stick with me and I'll widen your horizons."

Well, they were broadening right now. With other possibilities. "Okay, it's time."

"For what?"

"To tell me the real problem. If this was just about Botello and astral travel we could have stayed in the kitchen."

He scowled.

"You forget that I've been hanging with you for way too long. I know how powerful you are and how you work. If b.u.mping off Botello was all there was to the gig then you'd call him up in one of those mirrors, grab him by the family jewels, and drag him into this Reality for some terminal a.s.s-kicking. Tell me I'm wrong."

Terrin glared at me a moment, then broke into another big grin. "You're learning, fur-face."

"So what's the real deal?"

"That is." He pointed at the h.e.l.l-river. "Rolling in each night, sucking off every last sc.r.a.p of magic energy like some kind of psychic vacuum cleaner. It's gotten so its effect continues on a lesser level even duringthe day. That's what must have begun sapping me out the moment we arrived. I told you there was something wrong with this world. I'm safe behind these walls for just a little while. Soon it's gonna break through the household protections. That's gonna happen whether the demons invade or not."

I nodded. "Okay, I'm clear on that. And killing Botello will stop the river?"

"No, I don't think so."

Hah?Again. "Aw, s.h.i.t. What's going onthere ?"

"It seems to be running its own program. Even with Botello soul-dead I'm probably still screwed, but snuffing him has to be done no matter what."

I rested my rump on the windowsill, my sense of reality shifting in a profound way. Terrin seemed to be going suddenly altruistic, was willing to save this world even if it didn't help him, but this wasn't the time to give him a big thumbs-up about it.

"There's no way to help you?" I asked.

He looked at me. His green eyes had turned silver gray, a sign he was truly serious. "With you on the Otherside, Imight be able to figure a way to fix things and survive."

"How?"

"I won't know until you get there. Yes, I could yank Botello through to this side and whack him, but stopping the river is something more involved."

"You want me to go to h.e.l.l for you?"

" 'Fraid so, fur-face."

I thought it over as best I could given the short time and circ.u.mstances. From the first, without even knowing me or my past, he'd taken me in, fed me, given me a job at his magic shop and so on. So what if lately we'd been bouncing all over the Multiverse like a couple of bad checks; it had been lots of fun. He was asking a LOT, but I figured I owed him.

"Okay," I said. "Why not? But how will I get back?"

He gave me a funny look. "Back??"

I blanched under the fur.

He held his hands up. "Kidding!"

Chapter Fifteen Up the Hill to Darmo House.

"Are we there yet?" asked Velma. She sounded more irked than weary. "These boots were made for riding, not hiking."

"Not too much farther," Cadmus replied, sympathizing since he wore similar footgear. They worked much better on horseback than tramping over cobbled streets. Mostly cobbled streets. Their hasty jaunt toward Darmo House required detours into malodorous areas that made squelching sounds he did not care for at all. Normally he would have a lantern in hand to keep clear of them, but these were not normal times.

"You hear that?" she whispered.

Cadmus instantly froze in mid-step. He was taking to this sneaking around business rather well. They listened a moment. He picked up the commotion of several people trying to be quiet and not succeeding.

"Next street over, I think," he murmured.

"Hoof it," she said. "Better to be a moving target."

He wholly concurred; they pressed forward with some speed.

Debreban had been the first to notice they were no longer the only people abroad after the curfew, spying in the distance marching men in black-and-silver cloaks. Concluding that Botello had discovered Cadmus's escape and sent forth the ducal guard to pursue and recapture, they were forced to take a more circuitous route to their goal. Debreban volunteered to lay a false trail and had cut away toward Burkus House, promising to catch up with them when he could.

Unfortunately, there were more than enough of the guard to cover the myriad byways of Rumpock.

They were very efficient, too, and had obviously been informed of their quarry's potential destinations.

When Cadmus and Velma reached the front gates of Darmo House, a group of men in black-and-silver livery were already there.

"If I had one of their helmets I might be able to bluff past them in this cloak," Cadmus mourned.

"Let's find another overhanging tree," Velma suggested. So they made a complete rounding of the estate, ducking onto narrow paths and behind hedges when necessary. No convenient foliage of a suitable height presented itself on their side of the tall boundary walls, though.

"That little gate has possibilities," Cadmus said, pointing. It served the stable yard and adjoining gardens.

On informal visits to Botello, Cadmus had occasionally found it a useful entry.

"Except for those two left on watch."

True. A couple of exceptionally large specimens of ducal power paced alertly before the white-painted wrought iron gap in the wall. Cadmus, armed with Captain Rockbush's sword, had no doubt he could outfight them, but wasn't too terribly keen about killing the fellows. Not their fault they were following orders from the wrong overduke. A distraction was needed to remove them.

"I say," he said into Velma's ear. "I may have a cunning plan. . . ." It was very gratifying when she readily agreed to his idea. They mapped out a quick strategy and separated, Cadmus placing himself just out of sight close by the gate, ready to dart forward when the time came.

Shortly afterward the two guards came even more alert, their attention drawn to a deeply shadowed patch of trees some yards away. On the still air, Cadmus heard what they were hearing, the wholly joyful, breathy giggling of a woman as she noisily made her way through the copse.

"This spot's good," she said in a loud whisper. Then came a rustle of branch and brush, then stifled laughter.

"That's it, nice an' comfy, ain't it, love?"

More thrashing. More giggles. Then deepening sighs.

"Gawds, you've done this before, haven't you?"

Cadmus had to remember to focus on the two guards. They nudged each other, grinning.

"Oh! Ahh!" went Velma. She sounded entirely convincing as she set up a strong rhythm that threatened to break branches. "Gawds, yes! Do me! Do me!"

The guards shifted restlessly, edging from their post, craning their necks in a futile effort to see the source of the excitement.

"Come on, big boy! Yeah! Yeah! That's good! Oh, gawd, ohhh, gawwwds . . . !" she caroled.

Velma's cries of pleasure gradually worked up to what promised to be a monumental peak.

Curiosity and l.u.s.t finally overcame duty. The men bolted toward her. Cadmus bolted as well, reaching the gate. He tossed his sword through, then used the crosspieces like a ladder, going up and over, nimbly avoiding the spear-shaped points of the vertical bars. Once inside he felt along the wall for the long metal rod and catch mechanism that operated the interior lock. Releasing the catch, he gently swung the gate open, peering through the dark for Velma or the guards, whoever appeared first. He had the sword in hand again, just in case.

Happily, it was Velma. She emerged from the trees a short distance from where the men had gone in.

Cadmus half-expected her to be in an advanced state of undress, but she was yet securely clad in her riding costume. She hurried across the way, dodged past him, and paused for breath as he quietly closed them in. He caught her hand, and they tiptoed fast over the grounds toward the house. No alarums erupted behind them.

"I say," he whispered. "That was brilliantly done!"

She huffed out a thank you. "Had to work from memory. I'mmuch better with a partner helping."

"Yrrgh!" He tripped, falling flat on his face. "Sorry. Foot caught on some ivy or something." They were on uncluttered open lawn. She did not point that out, for which he was profoundly grateful as he picked himself up. He was about to add a self-deprecating, but amusing remark concerning his odd lapse into clumsiness, but an authoritarian voice cut him off. "Hold it right there! Move and you're dead!"

The Street Outside Cadmus House Debreban was pleased with himself. Perhaps he wasn't all that good at following people, but he was exceptional at getting them to follow him.

He'd caught the attention of a whole pack of the overduke's guard, at least twenty, and was leading them a merry hide-and-seek chase through the immediate area around his master's estate. The fact that he did not plan to effect an entry there had not yet dawned on them. Many of their number were now posted at regular intervals outside the wall. As for the rest, all he had to do was make themthink he was trying to get inside.

This made for a satisfying hue and cry, drawing more and more guards into the area, which meant fewer men would be available to hunt Lord Cadmus and Miss Velma.

Creeping silently up the exterior stairs of a neighboring building, Debreban crouched in the shadows, holding his sword close to keep it from rattling. Black-and-silver capes fluttered about below like a swarm of agitated moths. They'd grown very noisy and, with windows open to take advantage of the cool night air, people were waking to the disturbance. Lights showed and doors creaked and, despite the curfew, annoyed and curious citizens clad in sleep clothes began to trickle into the streets. The guards now had to talk them all back inside again. It was too funny. Debreban couldn't wait to tell Shankey what he'd missed.

Then a door behind him opened. He nearly tumbled backwards into the sudden s.p.a.ce. An old lady with a rolling pin in one hand stood over him. " 'Ere! 'O'er you?"

"City watch," Debreban promptly whispered. He grinned ingenuously up at her. "There's a thief loose we're trying to catch. Lock yourself in, quick!"

"Wotch? My eye! Yer that feller what marches aroun' fer 'is lordship over there. I seen yer ever day, don't I?"

"Madam-"

"Wotcher fink yer doin' sneakin' up my steps an' callin'me maderm? I ain't one ar' them fancy ladies wot 'is lordship ennertains, so be orf wif ya, 'fore I calls thereal Wotch!" Her voice got inconveniently loud.

"Who's up there?" Someone from the street was taking an interest.

"An' 'onest woman tryin' ter ged 'er rest, that's 'oo! You lot be orf an' leave lawful folk in peace. An'

take this 'un wif yer!" She poked Debreban in the ribs with her rolling pin.

"There he is!" the someone crowed.

Debreban wasted no time making a quick exit, which required that he clamber to the top of the stair's framing, which led to the roof. He'd planned to go there anyway, just not be seen while he was about it.

Too late now, dammit, thanks to Mother Muddle-up. Usually he got along fine with old ladies; why did this one have to be immune to his nice blond hair and charming smile? He left her well behind-she shouted after him using language not befitting her dignity-and shot across the slanted roof, dodging chimney stacks and trying not to slip. His leather boots, so practical for the street, worked against him on slippery tiles, but he had good balance to compensate.

"Get him!" cried several men from the street.

He heard pursuit, but judged he had an excellent chance of a clean escape since he knew where he wanted to go and they didn't. And all he had to do to vanish was pick a dense shadow and hold very still within it. None were at hand, though, so he kept moving, using the chimneys for cover as he worked his way across the roofs. In this section of Rumpock the buildings were crowded close upon one another, but they didn't go on forever. He'd have to descend sooner or later.

"He's over this way!"

This from an unexpected quarter, the bell tower. The people there weren't Watch or guards, but some of the Talents keeping watch on the h.e.l.l-river. Why weren't they doing that instead of bothering him?

"He's heading south!"

"West, now. He's turned west!"

b.l.o.o.d.y tattles. Time to leave the heights. He had a better chance in the street. But where? He was following the edge of a building a good thirty feet up. Over there . . . a narrowing alley between this one and the next. If he got a good run of speed, he could jump it. He hoped.

But people were already on the roofs with him, egged on by the bell tower babblers. He ran flat out as best he could over the uneven surface, then before he was quite ready the gap was under him and he was flying through s.p.a.ce.

Too short!

He slammed hard on the perimeter wall of the next roof, arms grappling desperately for purchase on its raised lip, his legs dangling over an awful drop. Panic swelled in his chest for an instant, then he realized he wasn't falling just yet. His boots sc.r.a.ped bricks, found crevices, and he pushed for all he was worth.

Not enough to put him over, but he gained a better hold. His scabbard banged against his ankles, threatening to complicate things until he kicked it clear. Panting and grunting, he hauled, pushed, pulled, and heaved. Somewhat dazed, he rolled onto a welcome horizontal surface.

That was close.He was still in one piece, not smashed on the cobbles like a rotten apple.

"Here! That ain't Lord Cadmus!" This from a man on the building he'd just leapt from. "Who are you?"

he demanded.

"Watch!" Debreban shouted back, using a flat city accent. He kept down behind the lip to hide the distinctive colors of his cloak. "Free Armsman Vylow. Who are you?"