“Holed up in the old stable. The loft. Fixed himself a pallet, like an old dog in a comer.”
A grunt as someone rose. Feet moving. Bomanz grabbed his belly, mouse-stepped away and hid in a shadow. A hulking figure crossed the road. Comet light glittered upon a naked blade.
Bomanz scuttled to a more distant shadow and stopped to think.
What did it mean? Murder, surely. But who? Why? Who had moved into the abandoned stable? Pilgrims and transients used the empty places all the time... Who were those men?
Possibilities occurred. He banished them. They were too grim. When his nerves returned, he hurried to the dig.
Stancil’s lantern was there, but he was nowhere in sight. “Stance?” No answer. “Stancil? Where are you?” Still no answer. Almost in panic, he shouted, “Stancil!”
“That you, Pop?”
“Where are you?”
“Taking a crap.”
Bomanz sighed, sat down. His son appeared a moment later, brushing sweat off his forehead. Why? It was a cool night.
“Stance, did Besand change his mind? I saw him leave this morning. A while ago I heard men plotting to kill somebody. Sounded like they meant him.”
“Kill? Who?”
“I don’t know. One of them might have been Men fu. There were three or four of them. Did he come back?”
“I don’t think so. You didn’t dream something, did you? What are you doing out in the middle of the night, anyway?”
“That nightmare again. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t imagine it. Those men were going to kill somebody because he wouldn’t leave.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Pop.”
“I don’t care...” Bomanz whirled. He heard the strange noise again. A figure staggered into the light. It took three steps and fell.
“Besand! It is Besand. What did I tell you?”
The former Monitor had a bloody wound across his chest. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’ll be okay. Just shock. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“What happened?”
“Tried to kill me. Told you all hell would break loose. Told you they’d make a play. Beat them this round, though. Got their assassin instead.”
“I thought you left. I saw you leave.”
“I changed my mind. Couldn’t go. I took an oath. Bo.
They took away my job but not my conscience. I’ve got to stop them.”
Bomanz met his son’s gaze. Stancil shook his head. “Pop, look at his wrist.”
Bomanz looked. “I don’t see anything.” “That’s the point. His amulet is gone.” “He turned it in when he left. Didn’t you?” “No,” Besand said. “Lost it in the fight. Couldn’t find it in the dark.” He made that funny sound.
“Pop, he’s bad hurt. I better go to the barracks.” “Stance,” Besand gasped. “Don’t tell him. Get Corporal Husky.”
“Right.” Stancil hurried off.
The light of the comet filled the night with ghosts. The Barrowland seemed to twist and crawl. Momentary shapes drifted amongst the brush. Bomanz shuddered and tried to convince himself that his imagination was acting up now.
Dawn was approaching. Besand was over his shock, sipping broth Jasmine had sent. Corporal Husky came to report the result of his investigation. “Couldn’t find anything, sir. Not no body, not no amulet. Not even no sign of no fight. It’s like it never happened.”
“I sure as hell didn’t try to kill myself.”
Bomanz became thoughtful. Had he not overheard the conspirators, he would have doubted Besand. The man was capable of staging an assault for sympathy.
“I believe you, sir. I was just saying what I found.”
“They blew their best chance. We’re warned now. Keep alert.”
“Better not forget who’s in charge now,” Bomanz interjected. “Don’t get anybody in trouble with our new leader.”
“That rockbrain. Do what you can, Husky. Don’t crawl out on a limb.”
“Yes, sir.” The corporal departed.
Stancil said, “Pop, you ought to get back to the house. You’re looking grey.”
Bomanz rose. “You all right now?” he asked.
Besand replied, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. The sun is up. That kind don’t try anything in broad daylight.”
Don’t bet on it, Bomanz thought. Not if they’re devotees of the Domination. They’ll bring the darkness to high noon.
Out of earshot, Stancil said, “I was thinking last night, Pop. Before this got started. About our name problem. And suddenly it hit me. There’s an old stone in Oar. A big one with runic carvings and pictographs. Been around forever. Nobody knows what it is or where it came from. Nobody really cares.”
“So?”
“Let me show you what’s carved on it.” Stancil picked up a twig, brushed a dusty area clear of debris. He started drawing. “There’s a crude star in a circle at the top. Then some lines of runes nobody can read. I can’t remember those. Then some pictures.” He sketched rapidly.
“That’s pretty rough.”
“So is the original. But look. This one. Stick figure with a broken leg. Here. A worm? Here, a man superimposed over an animal. Here, a man with a lightning bolt. You see? The Limper. Nightcrawler. Shifter. Stormbringer.”
“Maybe. And maybe you’re reaching.”
Stancil kept drawing. “Okay. That’s the way they are on the rock. The four I named. In the same order as on your chart. Look here. At your empty spots. They could be the Taken whose graves we haven’t identified.” He tapped what looked like a simple circle, a stick figure with its head cocked, and a beast head with a circle in its mouth.
“The positions match,” Bomanz admitted.
“So?”
“So what?”
“You’re being intentionally thick, Pop. A circle is a zero, maybe. Maybe a sign for the one called the Faceless Man or Nameless man. And here the Hanged Man. And here Moondog or Moonbiter?”
“I see it. Stance. I’m just not sure I want to.” He told Stance about having dreamed of a great wolf’s head snapping at the moon.
“You see? Your own mind is trying to tell you. Go check the evidence. See if it don’t fit this way.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Why not?”
“I know it by heart. It fits.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure I want to do it anymore.”
“Pop... Pop, if you won’t, I will. I mean it. I’m not going to let you throw away thirty-seven years. What’s changed, anyway? You gave up a hell of a future to come out here. Can you just write that off?”
“I’m used to this life. I don’t mind it.”
“Pop... I’ve met people who knew you back when. They all say you could have been a great wizard. They wonder what happened to you. They know that you had some great secret plan and went off to chase it. They figure you’re dead now, ’cause anybody with your talent would’ve been heard from. Right now I’m wondering if they’re not right.”
Bomanz sighed. Stancil would never understand. Not without getting old under the threat of the noose.
“I mean it, Pop. I’ll do it myself.”
“No, you won’t. You have neither the knowledge nor the skill. I’ll do it. I guess it’s fated.”
“Let’s go!”
“Not so eager. This isn’t a tea party. It’ll be dangerous. I need rest and time to get into the right frame of mind. I have to assemble my equipment and prepare the stage.”
“Pop...”
“Stancil, who is the expert? Who is going to do this?”
“I guess you are.”
“Then shut your mouth and keep it shut. The quickest I could try is tomorrow night. Assuming I stay comfortable with those names.”
Stancil looked pained and impatient.
“What’s the hurry? What’s your stake in it?”
“I just... I think Tokar is bringing Glory. I wanted everything out of the way when she got here.”
Bomanz raised a despairing eyebrow. “Let’s go to the house. I’m exhausted.” He glanced back at Besand, who was staring into the Barrowland. The man was stiff with defiance. “Keep him out of my hair.”