So. Roses. Owning no master. Filled with agents and spies and those who live on the dark side of the law. In that environment, One-Eye claimed, his scheme had to prosper.
Roses’ red walls loomed over us, dark as old blood in the light of the setting sun, when we arrived.
Goblin ambled into the room we had taken. “I found the place,” he squeaked at One-Eye.
“Good.”
Curious. They had not exchanged a cross word in weeks. Usually an hour without a squabble was a miracle.
Soulcatcher shifted in the shadowed corner where he remained planted like a lean black bush, a crowd softly debating with itself. “Go on.”
“It’s an old public square. A dozen alleys and streets going in and out. Poorly lighted at night. No reason for any traffic after dark.”
“Sounds perfect,” One-Eye said.
“It is. I rented a room overlooking it.”
“Let’s take a look,” Elmo said. We all suffered from cabin fever. An exodus started. Only Soulcatcher stayed put. Perhaps he understood our need to get away.
Goblin was right about the square, apparently. “So what?” I asked. One-Eye grinned. I snapped, “Clam-lips! Play games.”
“Tonight?” Goblin asked.
One-Eye nodded. “If the old spook says go.”
“I’m getting frustrated,” I announced. “What’s going on? AH you clowns do is play cards and watch Raven sharpen his knives.” That went on for hours at a time, the movement of whetstone across steel sending chills down my spine. It was an omen. Raven does not do that unless he expects the situation to get nasty.
One-Eye made a sound like a cawing crow.
We rolled the wagon at midnight. The stablekeeper called us madmen. One-Eye gave him one of his famous grins. He drove. The rest of us walked, surrounding the wagon.
There had been changes. Something had been added. Someone had incised the stone with a message. One Eye, probably, during one of his unexplained forays out of headquarters.
Bulky leather sacks and a stout plank table had joined the stone. The table looked capable of bearing the block. Its legs were of a dark, polished wood. Inlaid in them were symbols in silver and ivory, very complex, hieroglyphical, mystical.
“Where did you get the table?” I asked. Goblin squeaked, laughed. I growled, “Why the hell can’t you tell me now?”
“Okay,” One-Eye said, chuckling nastily. “We made it.”
“What for?”
“To sit our rock on.”
“You’re not telling me anything.”
“Patience, Croaker. AH in due time.” Bastard.
There was a strangeness about our square. It was foggy. There had been no fog anywhere else.
One-Eye stopped the wagon in the square’s center. “Out with that table, boys.”
“Out with you,” Goblin squawked. “Think you can malinger your way through this?” He wheeled on Elmo. “Damned old cripple’s always got an excuse.”
“He’s got a point, One-Eye.” One-Eye protested. Elmo snapped, “Get your butt down off there.”
One-Eye glared at Goblin. “Going to get you someday, Chubbo. Curse of impotence. How does that sound?”
Goblin was not impressed. “I’d put a curse of stupidity on you if I could improve on Nature.”
“Get the damned table down,” Elmo snapped.
“You nervous?” I asked. He never gets riled at their fussing. Treats it as part of the entertainment.
“Yeah. You and Raven get up there and push.”
That table was heavier than it looked. It took all of us to get it off the wagon. One-Eye’s faked grunts and curses did not help. I asked him how he got it on.
“Built it there, dummy,” he said, then fussed at us, wanting it moved a half inch this way, then a half inch that.
“Let it be,” Soulcatcher said. “We don’t have time for this.” His displeasure had a salutory effect. Neither Goblin nor One-Eye said another word.
We slid the stone onto the table. I stepped back, wiped sweat from my face, I was soaked. In the middle of winter. That rock radiated heat.
“The bags,” Soulcatcher said. That voice sounded like a woman I would not mind meeting.
I grabbed one, grunted. It was heavy. “Hey. This is money.”
One-Eye snickered. I heaved the sack into the pile under the table. A damned fortune there. I had never seen so much in one place, in fact.
“Cut the bags,” Soulcatcher ordered. “Hurry it up!”
Raven slashed the sacks. Treasure dribbled onto the cobblestones. We stared, lusting in our hearts.
Soulcatcher caught One-Eye’s shoulder, took Goblin’s arm. Both wizards seemed to shrink. They faced table and stone. Soulcatcher said, “Move the wagon.”
I still had not read the immortal message they had carved on the rock. I darted in for a look.
Ah. Aha. Plain-spoken. Straightforward. Simple. Just our style. Ha.
I stepped back, tried to guess the magnitude of Soul-catcher’s investment. I spied gold amidst the hill of silver. One bag leaked uncut gems.
“The hair,” Soulcatcher demanded. One-Eye produced the strands. Soulcatcher thumbed them into the walls of the head-sized cavity. He stepped back, joined hands with One-Eye and Goblin.
They made magic.
Treasure, table, and stone began to shed a golden glow.
Our archfoe was a dead man. Half the world would try to collect this bounty. It was too big to resist. His own people would turn on him.
I saw one slim chance for him. He could steal the treasure himself. Tough job, though. No Rebel Prophet could out-magic one of the Taken.
They completed their spell-casting. “Somebody test it,” One-Eye said-There was a vicious crackle when Raven’s daggertip pricked the plane of the tablelegs. He cursed, scowled at his weapon. Elmo thrust with his sword. Crackle! The tip of his blade glowed white.
“Excellent,” Soulcatcher said. “Take the wagon away.”
Elmo detailed a man. The rest of us fled to the room Goblin had rented.
At first we crowded the window, willing something to happen. That palled fast. Roses did not discover the doom we had set for Raker till sunrise.
Cautious entrepreneurs found a hundred ways to go after that money. Crowds came just to see. One enterprising band started tearing up the street to dig under. Police ran them off.
Soulcatcher took a seat beside the window and never moved. Once he told me, “Have to modify the spells. I didn’t anticipate this much ingenuity,”
Surprised at my own audacity, I asked, “What’s the Lady like?” I had just finished one of my fantasy sketches.
He turned slowly, stared briefly. “Something that will bite steel.” His voice was female and catty. An odd answer. Then, “Have to keep them from using tools.”
So much for getting an eyewitness report. I should have known better. We mortals are mere objects to the Taken. Our curiosities are of supreme indifference. I retreated to my secret kingdom and its spectrum of imaginary Ladies.
Soulcatcher modified the ward sorceries that night. Next morning there were corpses in the square.
One-Eye wakened me the third night. “Got a customer.”
“Hunh?”
“A guy with a head.” He was pleased.
I stumbled to the window. Goblin and Raven were there already. We crowded one side. Nobody wanted to get too close to Soulcatcher.
A man stole across the square below. A head dangled from his left hand. He carried it by its hair. I said, “I wondered how long it would be before this started.”
“Silence,” Soulcatcher hissed. “He’s out there.”
“Who?”
He was patient. Remarkably patient. Another of the Taken would have struck me down. “Raker. Don’t give us away.”
I do not know how he knew. Maybe I would not want to find out. Those things scare me.
“A sneak visit was in the scenario,” Goblin whispered, squeaking. How can he squeak when he whispers? “Raker has to find out what he’s up against. He can’t do that from anywhere else.” The fat little man seemed proud.