“How are you doing?” asked Olga. “You came through badly.”
“Tell me about it.” Miriam shuddered. “The cold seems to be helping my head. I’ll be ready to go again in about an hour. Yourself?”
“I wish.” Olga hummed to herself. “I never had that headache pill.”
“Come over here, then,” said Miriam. “I’ve got the stuff.”
“Right.”
They converged on a tree about five yards from the hut. Miriam stripped off a glove and fumbled in her pocket for the strip of beta blockers and the bottle of ibuprofen. “Here. One of each. Wash it down with something, huh?”
“Surely.” Miriam waited in companionable silence while Olga swallowed, then pulled out a small hip flask and took a shot.
“What’s that?”
“Spiced hunter’s vodka. Fights the cold. Want some?”
“Better not, thanks.” Miriam glanced over her shoulder at the hut. “I’m giving him an hour. The poor bastard thinks I’m going to give him to Angbard to torture to death if he doesn’t tell me everything I want to know immediately.”
“You aren’t going to do that?” Olga’s expression was unreadable behind her bulky headset.
“Depends how angry he makes me. There’s been too much killing already, and it’s been going on for far too long. We’re going to have to stop sooner or later, or we’ll run out of relatives.”
“What do you mean, relatives? He’s the enemy—”
“Don’t you get it yet?” Miriam said impatiently. “These guys, the strangers who pop out of nowhere and kill—they’ve got to be blood relatives somewhere down the line. They’re world-walkers too, and the only reason they go between this world and New Britain, instead of this world and the USA, is because that’s the pattern they use. I’m thinking they’re descended from that missing branch of the first family, the brother who went west and disappeared, right after the founder died.”
Olga looked puzzled. “You think they’re the sixth family?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, and I don’t yet know why they’re trying to start up the civil war again. But don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to find out what’s going on before we hand him over to the thief-takers for hanging?”
Olga rubbed her head. “This is going to be the most fascinating Clan council in living memory,” she said.
“Come on.” Miriam waved at the hut. “Let’s get moving. I think it’s time we dragged Roland into this.”
One o’clock in the morning. Ring ring…“Hello?” Roland’s voice was furred with sleep.
“Roland? It’s me.”
“Miriam, you do pick your times—”
“Not now. Got a family emergency.”
“Emergency? What kind?” She could hear him waking up by the second.
“Get a couple of soldiers who you trust, and a safe house. Not Fort Lofstrom or its doppelgänger, it needs to be somewhere anonymous but secure on this side. It must be on this side. We’ve got a prisoner to debrief.”
“A prisoner? What kind—”
“One of the assassins. He’s alive, terrified, and spilling his guts to Olga right this moment.” Olga was in the back office with Lin and Miriam’s dictaphone, playing Good Cop. Lin was chattering, positively manic, desperate to tell her everything she wanted. Lin wasn’t even eighteen. Miram felt ashamed of herself until she thought about what he’d been involved in. Boy soldiers, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, recruited to defend their family’s honor against the children of the hostile elder brothers—elder brothers who had stolen their birthright many generations ago, abandoning them to the nonexistent mercy of the western empire.
“He needs to be kept alive, and that means keeping him away from the security leak in Angbard’s operation. And, uh, your little friend, assuming they’re not one and the same person. Someone there is working with this guy’s people. And here’s another thing: I want a full DQ Alpha typing run on a blood sample, and I want it compared to as many members of the Clan—full members—as you can get. I want to know if he’s related, and if so, how far back it goes.”
And I want him out of here before Paulette shows up in the morning, Miriam thought. Paulie was a good friend and true, but some things weren’t appropriate for her to be involved in. Like kidnapping.
“Okay, I’ll sort it. Where do I go?”
“You come here.” Miriam rattled off directions, mentally crossing her fingers. “I’ve got a new amulet for you, one that takes you from the other side to world three, my hideaway. Watch out, it is very different, as different from this world as you can imagine.”
“Okay—but you’d better be able to explain why if the duke starts asking questions. I’ll roust Xavier and Mort out of bed and be round in an hour. They’ll keep their mouths shut. Is there anything else you need?”
“Yeah.” Miriam licked her lips. “Is Angbard over here?”
“I think so.”
“I’ve got to call him right away. Then I’m probably going to be gone before you get here. Got to go back to the far side to clean up the mess when the little prick broke into my house.”
“He broke in—hey! Are you alright?”
“I’m alive. Olga and Brill can fill you in. Got to go. Stay safe.” She rang off before she could break down and tell him how much she wanted to see him. Cruel fate…the next number was preprogrammed as well.
“Hello?” A politely curious voice.
“This is Helge Lofstrom-Hjorth. Get me Angbard. This is an emergency.”
“Please hold.” No messing around this time, Miriam noted. Someone was awake at the switchboard.
“Angbard here.” He sounded amused rather than tired. “What is it, Miriam? Having trouble sleeping?”
“Perhaps. Listen, the Clan summit on Beltaigne is three months away. Is there a procedure for bringing it forward, calling an extraordinary general meeting?”
“There is, but it’s most unusual—nobody has done it in forty years. Are you sure you want me to do this for you? Without a good reason, there are people who would take it as a perfect opportunity to accuse you of anything they can think of.”
“Yes.” Miriam took a deep breath. “Listen. I know you’ve got my mother.” Dead silence on the phone. She continued: “I don’t know why you’re holding her, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt—for now. But I need that meeting, and she needs to be there. If she isn’t, you’re going to be in deep shit. I’m going to be there, too, and it has to be now, in a couple of days’ time, not in two months, because we’ve got a prisoner and if you’ve not found your leak yet the prisoner will probably be dead before Beltaigne.”
“A prisoner—” he hissed.
“You told me about a child of the founder who went west,” Miriam said, very deliberately. “I’ve found his descendants. They’re the ones who tried to kill Patricia and who’ve been after Olga and me. And I figure they may be messed up with the mole in your security staff. You want to call this emergency meeting, Angbard, you really want to do this.”
“I believe you,” he said after a momentary pause, in a tone that said he wished he didn’t. “How extraordinary.”
“When is it going to be ready?”