“Says you.”
“No, she’s right,” Delvie assured me. “The balance is a little tricky, but it should bear your weight just fine.”
“Do I sit in it?”
“You’re better off standing.”
“Fine,” I said, making no effort to hide my annoyance. Jane could’ve mentioned this earlier.
“You sure you don’t want me to do it?” she said.
“No, damn it,” I muttered.
“I’ll need your sword,” the warden said. “And all your other weapons. And anything that might remotely be used as a weapon.”
“I’m not going to hurt him,” I said.
Delvie stepped close. I could smell his morning tea on his breath. He said, “We used to send a guard up with the food, in case he cracked and started blabbering. This was back when we seriously thought he might tell us where his treasure was hidden. For a year, nothing happened. Then one day Hawk yanked him out of the basket and held him against the window bars. He threw the guard’s sword down, impaling another guard, then killed another with the first guard’s crossbow. One-handed, mind you, while still supporting the guard’s weight with the other arm. Then he dropped the man to his death.” He pointed at a spot on the hard-packed ground that was darker than the surrounding dirt. “He landed right there. You can see that the stain still hasn’t worn off.”
“The point is, he could’ve done it at any time,” Jane added. “He just picked that day, and that guard. He never said why. So now no one ever sees him. They just send up his food.”
“Then how do you know he’s even still up there?”
“The basket always comes down empty.” He paused, stepped even closer to me, and said in a grim whisper, “Hawk’s been called many things over the years, but you know what captures him best, in my opinion? That he’s simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up. If you still wish to see him, then I won’t stop you.”
I looked into the mist. I wondered if Hawk could hear us discussing his exploits. More important, how would I convince him to help me if he didn’t want to? What could I possibly offer him? I hadn’t put any thought into that.
“You could keep a bigger basket around, you know,” I pointed out as I unbuckled my sword belt. “For special occasions.”
“I’ll mention that at the next budget meeting,” the warden said. Louie returned with the requested men, all of whom looked at me with a mix of respect and suspicion. They were big men, with the scars of former battles on their bare arms and faces. I suspected they were also one moral slip away from becoming inmates themselves. Luckily, all I needed them to do was have firm grips and strong backs.
“Yank the rope twice when you’re ready to come down,” the warden said.
As I started to step into the basket, Jane said, “The knife in your boot, too.”
I glared at her. That knife had saved my life more than any other weapon I owned. But as I withdrew it, I suddenly knew what I could offer Hawk that might make him cooperate.
“Ow!” Jane cried. “What was that for?”
“Something to keep my courage up,” I said. She took my knife and tucked it into her belt. I enjoyed her annoyed scowl.
I put one foot in the basket, then the other. The ropes from each corner joined at a waist-high iron ring, and above that a single rope led to the top of the tower. I grabbed that rope for dear life, the guards pulled, and I began to rise.
Immediately, I nearly fell back and the whole contraption spun as I fought to regain my balance. Jane laughed uproariously.
I rose into the mist. Jane and the guards disappeared below me, and for a few moments I was isolated in the haze, nothing visible above or below. There was absolutely no wind, and the faceless side of the tower made it hard to mark my progress. Only the squeak of the pulley above me, growing louder, assured me I was rising.
I passed a chink in the stonework where a huge black crow, the one I must’ve heard earlier, sat preening her feathers. She cawed once and regarded me with the same vague suspicion as the guard below. Even the wildlife knew I was doing something stupid.
Eventually the pulley stopped, and I hung in place outside a wide rectangular window. Vertical bars blocked it, and a heavy fishing net hung just inside them, making a double barrier. The room was painted bright white, even down to the window bars. Nothing moved, and of course in a round room, there were no corners to hide in. The combined net and mist made it difficult to see the dim interior, but I stared until I made out a cot, a chamber pot, and something on the floor.
I risked one hand on the bars to steady myself and called out, “Hey! Rody Hawk!”
There was no reply.
I pulled myself closer to the bars. The basket creaked and tilted as my weight shifted.
The sun chose that moment to flicker through the mist and flood the cell with light. The shape on the floor instantly resolved itself.
It was a body.
The man was sprawled on his back. He was tall and slender, with long dark hair, a long beard, and a black eyepatch. He wore white trousers and a loose tunic, with no shoes.
The sun glinted off his exposed eye. It was wide open, and stared at nothing. I’d seen enough lifeless eyes to recognize this one at once.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. Rody Hawk was dead.
Then a sepulchral voice commanded, “Don’t talk about my mother.”
Chapter Six
I was so startled that I lost my balance and pivoted wildly in the basket. I saw hazy sky, the barred window, then hazy sky again. I grabbed another bar and steadied myself. I looked around the room carefully, but saw no one except the corpse on the floor. There was also no place for anyone to hide. Where the hell had that voice come from?
I risked a look up into the clearing sky. Was someone on the roof? Had it been a ghost? A god? At that moment, as the chill sweat ran down my back, anything seemed plausible.
Then the corpse of Rody Hawk sat up and looked right at me with its dead, milk-white eye.
Before I could do anything undignified like scream, the corpse shifted the eyepatch to the other side, uncovering a perfectly good eye and reseating the patch over the useless one. Then he yawned.
I looked down. Thankfully, the mist was still thick enough to hide me from view. If Jane had seen this, I’d never have lived it down.
Rody Hawk shifted into a cross-legged position and looked straight at me. Even with only one eye, it was like he saw right through to the back of my skull. The hairs on my neck tingled. He said, “I don’t know you.”
“No,” I agreed, trying to steady the basket with my trembling legs.
His voice had no identifiable accent. “You’re too scruffy to be a new guard. Warden Delvie is a stickler for appearance. And it’s not time for my lunch.” His eye narrowed and he cocked his head. Hawk was a small, neat man; even his untrimmed hair and beard looked tended. “Are you from the Society of Scribes, then? No, you’ve brought nothing with which to write. So who are you, my man?”
“Eddie LaCrosse.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“No reason it should.”
“So you must want something.”
“I want a lot of things.” I managed to find a balanced position with one hand on a bar and the other gripping the rope for dear life. As long as I kept my knees locked, I stayed reasonably still. It did not, however, convey nonchalance. “Not falling out of this basket is at the top of the list.”
Hawk smiled. He had small white teeth. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“Sure I am. You’re Rody Hawk. I’d be stupid not to be afraid of you.”
He arched his back and threaded his fingers together behind his head. “I apologize for the fright,” he said as he stretched. “Sleeping on that saggy cot has begun to trouble my back. I find alternating with the floor minimizes the discomfort. So what is it that brings you up this high?”
“I’m looking for a pirate.”
“You found one. The best, or worst, depending on your perspective. And if my current accommodations are any indication, perhaps I’m both.”