Juniper: Interrogation

Shed had no more trouble with extortionists. Somebody did tell the Magistrate that he had killed Wally. The Magistrate did not believe it, or did not care.

Then Bullock’s sidekick turned up. Shed nearly dropped a valuable piece of crockery. He had felt safe from that. The only people who knew anything were far away. He clamped down on his nerves and guilt, went to the man’s table. “How may we serve you, Reverend Sir?”

“Bring me a meal and your best wine, landlord.”

Shed lifted an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“I’ll pay. Nobody in the Buskin can afford to give away meals.”

“Ain’t it the truth, sir. Ain’t it the truth.”

When Shed returned with the wine, the Inquisitor observed, “You seem to be doing well, landlord.”

Shed snorted. “We live on the edge, Reverend Sir. On the ragged edge. One bad week would destroy me. I spend every winter borrowing from one moneylender to pay another. This summer was good, though. I found a partner. I was able to fix a few things. That made the place more attractive. Probably my last dying gasp before it gets away.” He donned his sourest face.

The Inquisitor nodded. “Leave the bottle. Let the Brotherhood contribute to your prosperity.”

“I’ll ask no profit, Reverend Sir.”

“Why be foolish? Charge me the same as anyone else.”

Shed mentally upped the tab twenty percent over normal. He was glad to be rid of the bottle. Raven had left him stuck with several.

When Shed delivered the meal, the Inquisitor suggested, “Bring a mug and join me.”

Shed’s nerves twisted as tight as a bowstring. Something was wrong. They had caught on. “As you wish, Reverend Sir.” He dragged over and collected his own mug. It was dusty. He had not done much drinking lately, afraid his tongue would wag.

“Sit down. And wipe the scowl off your face. You haven’t done anything. Have you? I don’t even know your name.”

“Shed, Reverend Sir. Marron Shed. The Iron Lily has been in my family for three generations.”

“Admirable. A place with tradition. Tradition is falling by the wayside nowadays.”

“As you say, Reverend Sir.”

“I guess our reputation has preceded me. Won’t you calm down?”

“How may I help you, Reverend Sir?”

“I’m looking for a man named Asa. I hear he was a regular here.”

“So he was, sir,” Shed admitted. “I knew him well. A lazy wastrel. Hated honest work. Never a copper to his name, either. Yet he was a friend, after his fashion, and generous in his way. I let him sleep on the common room floor during the winter, because in the days of my hardship he never failed to bring wood for the fire.”

The Inquisitor nodded. Shed decided to tell most of the truth. He could not hurt Asa. Asa was beyond the reach of the Custodians.

“Do you know where he acquired the wood?”

Shed pretended acute embarrassment. “He collected it in the Enclosure, Reverend Sir. I debated with myself about using it. It wasn’t against the law. But it seemed reprehensible anyway.”

The Inquisitor smiled and nodded. “No failing on your part, Marron Shed. The Brotherhood doesn’t discourage gleaning. It keeps the Enclosure from becoming too seedy.”

“Why are you looking for Asa, then?”

“I understand he worked for a man named Krage.”

“Sort of. For a while. He thought he was king of the Buskin when Krage took him on. Strutting and bragging. But it didn’t last.”

“So I heard. It’s the timing of their falling-out that intrigues me.”

“Sir?”

“Krage and some of his friends disappeared. So did Asa, about the same time. And all of them vanished soon after somebody got into the Catacombs and looted several thousand passage urns.”

Shed tried to look properly horrified. “Krage and Asa did that?”

“Possibly. This Asa started spending old money after he began gleaning in the Enclosure. Our investigations suggest he was petty at his grandest. We think he pilfered a few urns each time he gathered wood. Krage may have found out and decided to plunder in a big way. Their falling-out may have been over that. Assuming Asa had any conscience.”

“Possibly, sir. I understood it to be a squabble over a guest of mine. A man named Raven. Krage wanted to kill him. He hired Asa to spy on him. Asa told me that himself. Krage decided he wasn’t doing his job. He never did anything right. Anyway, he never did anything very well. But that doesn’t invalidate your theory. Asa could have been lying. Probably was. He lied a lot.”

“What was the relationship between Asa and Raven?”

“There wasn’t any.”

“Where is Raven now?”

“He left Juniper right after the ice broke up in the harbor.”

The Inquisitor seemed both startled and pleased. “What became of Krage?”

“Nobody knows, Reverend Sir. It’s one of the great mysteries of the Buskin. One day he was there; the next he wasn’t. There were all kinds of rumors.”

“Could he have left Juniper, too?”

“Maybe. Some people think so. Whatever, he didn’t tell anybody. The people who worked for him don’t know anything, either.”

“Or so they say. Could he have looted enough from the Catacombs to make it worthwhile to leave Juniper?”

Shed puzzled that question. It sounded treacherous. “I don’t. … I don’t understand what you’re asking, sir.”

“Uhm. Shed, thousands of the dead were violated. Most were put away at a time when the wealthy were very generous. We suspect a sum of gold may have been involved.”

Shed gaped. He hadn’t seen any gold. The man was lying. Why? Laying traps?

“It was a major plundering operation. We’d very much like to ask Asa some questions.”

“I can imagine.” Shed bit his lip. He thought hard. “Sir, I can’t tell you what became of Krage. But I think Asa took ship for the south.” He went into a long song-and-dance about how Asa had come to him after falling out with Krage, begging to be hidden. One day he had gone out, returned later badly wounded, had hidden upstairs for a while, then had vanished. Shed claimed to have seen him from a distance only, on the docks, the day the first ships sailed for the south. “I never got close enough to talk, but he looked like he was going somewhere. He had a couple bundles with him.”

“Do you recall what ship?”

“Sir?”

“What ship did he take?”

“I didn’t actually see him board a ship, sir. I just assumed he did. He might still be around. Only I figure he would have gotten in touch if he was. He always came to me when he was in trouble. I guess he’s in trouble now, eh?”

“Maybe. The evidence isn’t conclusive. But I’m morally convinced he was in on the looting. You didn’t see Krage on the dock, did you?”

“No, sir. It was crowded. Everybody always goes down to see the first ships off. It’s like a holiday.” Was the Inquisitor buying it? Damn. He had to. An Inquisitor wasn’t somebody you got off your back by selling him into the black castle.

The Inquisitor shook his head wearily. “I was afraid you’d tell me a story like that. Damn it. You leave me no choice.”

Shed’s heart leapt into his throat. Crazy ideas swarmed through his head. Hit the Inquisitor, grab the coin box, make a run for it.

“I hate to travel, Shed. But it looks like either Bullock or I will have to go after those people. Guess who’ll get stuck?”

Relief swamped Shed. “Go after them, Reverend Sir? But the law down there doesn’t recognize the Brotherhood’s right. …”

“Won’t be easy, will it? The barbarians just don’t understand us.” He poured some wine, stared into it for a long while. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Marron Shed. You’ve been very helpful.”

Shed hoped that was a dismissal. He rose. “Anything else, Reverend Sir?”

“Wish me luck.”

“Of course, sir. A prayer for your mission this very evening.”

The Inquisitor nodded. “Thank you.” He resumed staring into his mug.

He left a fine tip. But Shed was uneasy when he pocketed it. The Inquisitors had a reputation for doggedness. Suppose they caught up with Asa?