I shrugged. “Up to you. I just hope Soulcatcher don’t think we crossed him.”
“Only you and me know. I won’t tell him.” He brushed the snow off the old man’s face. Raker was cooling fast.
Raven used his knife.
I am a physician. I have removed limbs. I am a soldier. I have seen some bloody battlefields. Nevertheless, I was queasy. Decapitating a dead man did not seem right.
Raven secured our grisly trophy inside his cloak. It did not bother him. Once, on the way to our part of town, I asked, “Why did we go after him, anyway?”
He did not answer immediately. Then, “The Captain’s last letter said to get it over with if I had the chance.”
As we neared the square, Raven said, “Go upstairs. See if the spook is there. If he’s not, send the soberest man after our wagon. You come back here.”
“Right.” I sighed, hurried to our quarters. Anything for a little warmth.
The snow was a foot deep now. I was afraid my feet were permanently damaged.
“Where the hell have you been?” Elmo demanded when I stumbled through the doorway. “Where’s Raven?”
I looked around. No Soulcatcher. Goblin and One-Eye were back, dead to the world. Otto and Hagop were snoring like giants. “How’s Otto?”
“Doing all right. What’ve you been up to?”
I settled myself beside our fire, prized my boots off. My feet were blue and numb but not frozen. Soon they tingled painfully. My legs ached from all that walking through the snow, too. I told Elmo the whole story.
“You killed him?”
“Raven said the Captain wants done with the project.”
“Yeah. I didn’t figure Raven would go cut his throat.”
“Where’s Soulcatcher?”
“Hasn’t been back.” He grinned. “I’ll get the wagon Don’t tell anybody else. Too many big mouths.” He flung his cloak about his shoulders, stamped out.
My hands and feet felt halfway human. I scooted over and nabbed Otto’s boots. He was about my size, and hi did not need them.
Out into the night again. Morning, almost. Dawn was due soon.
If I expected any remonstrance from Raven I was disappointed. He just looked at me. I think he actually shivered. I remember thinking, maybe he is human after all. “Had to change my boots. Elmo is getting the wagon The rest of them are passed out.”
“Soulcatcher?”
“Not back yet.”
“Let’s plant this seed.” He strode into the swirling flakes. I hurried after him.
The snow had not collected on our trap. It sat then glowing gold. Water puddled beneath it and trickled away to become ice.
“You think Soulcatcher will know when this thing get: discharged?” I asked.
“It’s a good bet. Goblin and One-Eye, too.”
“The place could burn down around those two and they wouldn’t turn over.”
“Nevertheless... Sshh! Somebody out there. Go that way.” He moved the other direction, circling.
What am I doing this for? I wondered as I skulked through the snow, weapon in hand. I ran into Raven. “Set anything?”
He glared into the darkness. “Somebody was here.” He sniffed the air, turned his head slowly right and left. He took a dozen quick steps, pointed down.
He was right. The trail was fresh. The departing half looked hurried. I stared at those marks. “I don’t like it, Raven.” Our visitor’s spoor indicated that he dragged his right foot. “The Limper.”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“Who else? Where’s Elmo?”
We returned to the Raker trap, waited impatiently. Raven paced. He muttered. I could not recall ever having seen him this unsettled. Once, he said, “The Limper isn’t Soulcatcher.”
Really. Soulcatcher is almost human. Limper is the sort that enjoys tormenting babies.
A jangle of traces and squeak of poorly greased wheels entered the plaza. Elmo and the wagon appeared. Elmo pulled up and jumped down.
“Where the hell you been?” Fear and weariness made me cross.
“Takes time to dig out a stableboy and get a team ready. What’s the matter? What happened?”
“The Limper was here.”
“Oh, shit. What did he do?”
“Nothing. He just...”
“Let’s move,” Raven snapped. “Before he comes back.” He took the head to the stone. The wardspells might not have existed. He fitted our trophy into the waiting declivity. The golden glow winked out. Snowflakes began accumulating on head and stone.
“Let’s go,” Elmo gasped. “We don’t have much time.”
I grabbed a sack and heaved it into the wagon. Thoughtful Elmo had laid out a tarp to keep loose coins from dribbling between the floorboards.
Raven told me to rake up the loose stuff under the table. “Elmo, dump some of those sacks out and give them to Croaker.”
They heaved bags. I scrambled after loose coins.
“One minute gone,” Raven said. Half the bags were in the wagon.
“Too much loose stuff,” I complained.
“We’ll leave it if we have to.”
“What’re we going to do with it? How will we hide it?”
“In die hay in the stable,” Raven said. “For now. Later we put a false bed in the wagon. Two minutes gone.”
“What about wagon tracks?” Elmo asked. “He could follow them to the stable.”
“Why should he care in the first place?” I wondered aloud.
Raven ignored me. He asked Elmo, “You didn’t conceal them coming here?”
“Didn’t think of it.”
“Damn!”
All the sacks were aboard. Elmo and Raven helped with the loose stuff.
“Three minutes,” Raven said, then, “Quiet!” He listened. “Soulcatcher couldn’t be here already, could he? No. The Limper again. Come on. You drive, Elmo. Head for a thoroughfare. Lose us in traffic. I’ll follow you. Croaker, go try to cover Elmo’s backtrail.”
“Where is he?” Elmo asked, staring into the falling snow.
Raven pointed. “We’ll have to lose him. Or he’ll take it away. Go on, Croaker. Get moving. Elmo.”
“Get up!” Elmo snapped his traces. The wagon creaked away.
I ducked under the table and stuffed my pockets, then ran away from where Raven said the Limper was.
I do not know that I had much luck obscuring Elmo’s backtrail. I think we were helped more by morning traffic than by anything I did. I did get rid of the stableboy. I gave him a sock full of gold and silver, more than he could make in years of stable work, and asked him if he could lose himself. Away from Roses, preferably. He told me, “I won’t even stop to get my things.” He dropped his pitchfork and headed out, never to be seen again.
I hied myself back to our room.
Everyone was sleeping but Otto. “Oh, Croaker,” he said. “Bout time.”
“Pain?”
“Yeah.”
“Hangover?”
“That too.”
“Let’s see what we can do. How long you been awake?”
“An hour, I guess.”
“Soulcatcher been here?”
“No. What happened to him, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hey. Those are my boots. What the hell do you think you’re doing, wearing my boots?”
“Take it easy. Drink this.”
He drank. “Come on. What’re you doing wearing my boots?”
I removed the boots and set them near the fire, which had burned quite low. Otto kept after me while I added coal. “If you don’t calm down you’re going to rip your stitches.”
I will say this for our people. They pay attention when my advice is medical. Angry as he was, he lay back, forced himself to lie still. He did not stop cussing me.
I shed my wet things and donned a nightshirt I found lying around. I do not know where it came from. It was too short. I put on a pot of tea, then turned to Otto. “Let’s take a closer look.” I dragged my kit over.
I was cleaning around the wound and Otto was cursing softly when I heard the sound. Scrape-clump, scrape clump. It stopped outside the door.
Otto sensed my fear. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s...” The door opened behind me. I glanced back. I had guessed right.