The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) Read online

  Shit! “Ma’am.”

  “This is going to involve delicate Arm diplomacy. If you do as good a job in this, and in the report analysis, as you normally do, I’m going to consider this your graduation exercise. Are you ready to be an independent Arm, Del?”

  She nodded without thinking, intoxicated by the words ‘independent Arm’. She buried the betraying thought and studied Ma’am Keaton’s feet. “Ma’am, what I want and what will happen to me are not the same things. Ma’am Bass wants my hide tacked to a wall, ma’am.”

  “Life has consequences,” Ma’am Keaton said, and laughed. “Oh, and one other thing. I’m willing to keep you on in my organization, after you graduate, but for a stiff price. As part of the deal, I’m going to try something new – selling tagging rights to you to other Major Transforms, here and abroad, and not including Arm Bass, as your tagging rights aren’t worth anything if your hide is tacked to a wall. This should offset the cost of protecting you. If not, you’re going to owe me more.”

  “Why, ma’am?” Del had never heard of such a thing among any of the Arms, or any other Major Transforms, for that matter. Essentially, slavery. No independence at all.

  Ma’am Keaton stood, sneered, and tossed several partly-cleaned M79 parts at Del, which she caught. “You figure it out. Don’t fuck up your graduation assignments, or you won’t even get the offer.” She turned her back and stalked off.

  Slavery. The ‘here and abroad’ comment, though, that Del understood. Ma’am Keaton was always on the prowl for ways to gain rank on the first Arm, Armenigar of Canada. Selling Del to Armenigar for a fixed amount of time fit Ma’am Keaton’s plans and goals exactly. She would end up as an enslaved spy, not what she had ever imagined.

  This would only work with a student Arm of her talent and potential, and the price was so high because of the depths of her troubles. Still, this didn’t negate any of her current danger. She needed to succeed at her coordination and document analysis mission to get the offer, and Ma’am Keaton was touchy about the strangest things. She also needed to survive the expected chaos of the regime change period, where Ma’am Keaton would be too involved in the mop-up efforts involved in taking over the Focuses to guard Del from Ma’am Bass.

  Oh, and most importantly, the Arms needed to succeed at taking down the first Focuses.

  Gilgamesh: December 18, 1972 – December 20, 1972

  “Congratulations, Gilgamesh!” Smoke said, honestly excited. “You’re recruiting more Crows to live in Focus households? That sounds like a wonderful idea for the right kind of Crow. You’ll need to let me know how this works out.”

  “Well actually,” Gilgamesh said. He didn’t want any part in the attack on the first Focuses, and made himself forcefully unavailable by running a Guru salon in his new second home in Peoria. “I was hoping you might be interested.”

  “Me?” Smoke said, appalled. “With a Focus? Focuses are dangerous!”

  Gilgamesh’s stomach sank. He thought at least his own students would be interested. What good was it to be a Guru if his own students wouldn’t follow his lead?

  “Actually, a Focus household provides a lot of protection. You could be much safer with a decent Focus than you’d be on your own. And think of the benefits!”

  Smoke shook his head. “A Focus? Perhaps after a few more other Crows live with them for a few years.” Then he thought about it for a moment. “Maybe,” he said. Doubtfully.

  “Why change what’s working?” Newton said. “Beth and I are getting along just fine together. I think moving in with her would be rushing things.”

  “You thinking of doing like normals would? Proposing?”

  Newton frowned at Gilgamesh, as if he was out of his mind. “Give us a chance to get to know each other better. Moving to Chicago and going gypsy, then having Lady Death squish one of her Transforms and muck with her mind hasn’t been easy on her.”

  Gilgamesh sighed.

  “You want Crows to build households with Focuses?” Trout asked.

  “Yes,” Gilgamesh said.

  “Hmm,” Trout said thoughtfully. “Focus-Crow households do sound like an interesting idea.”

  “I think so, too,” Gilgamesh said. He activated his comforting Crow charisma, amplified by one of his recently constructed dross objects, the chair he sat in. “Are you interested in such a thing?”

  Trout nodded. “Perhaps. I can see the potential benefits. I need to think about this for a little while.”

  “Good, good. I’ll give you a few days to get used to the idea. If you come up with any questions, or need to talk to anyone, I’ll help you out.”

  “Thank you. This is a big decision, though. I’ll want more than a few days to think about it, though. A year or so would be good. I wouldn’t want to rush into something so important. The political ramifications of this are significantly disturbing.”

  Perhaps Carol had left on the attack and he could return to Chicago. This was the most pointless two days he had ever spent.

  ---

  “Gilgamesh?” The woman at the door to his suite was Sylvie Dejung, Gail’s number two in the household. She was married to Kurt, the head of Gail’s bodyguards, and she was an old friend of Gail’s from before her transformation and one of Gail’s Focus Attendants. She was a short woman in her late twenties, with blonde hair, a round face, and baby-Arm-like muscles.

  She also had a crush on him back before the Detroit fight, but her crush didn’t last.

  “Yes? Does Gail need something?” Gilgamesh looked up from his letter writing. The latest was to Merlin, to find out if Merlin was interested in building a household with a Focus, or knew of some Crow who was. Gilgamesh was beginning to suspect that his letters would turn out to be as pointless as his conversations.

  Depressing. The big breakthrough, and none of the Crows wanted in.

  “Ah, no. Actually, ah, I’m here on my own.” Her face was red and she restlessly shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  “Yes?” Gilgamesh said, patiently.

  “Ah. Could I come in?” So Gilgamesh abandoned his letter to open the door wider and let her in. He still felt odd having visitors in his own private residence, but she was part of his household now, and she clearly needed some kind of help.

  He let her sit, and carefully ignored her while she gathered herself together. After a short crawl through his maze he fixed her some lemonade from a big pitcher he kept in the undersized refrigerator in his suite. Something bothered Sylvie. Oh well, he thought, he certainly wasn’t the only person in the world with problems. Maybe he would have better luck with hers than he had with his.

  “Thank you,” she said, as she sipped the lemonade. Gilgamesh sat in the chair across from her, not too close and not too far, and waited. His meeting-room furniture was clean, but old and worn. He kept telling himself that he ought to spend some of his money on new furniture, but never managed to do so.

  In the move, somebody had tried to upgrade his office furniture. He had protested until they found the old stuff and brought it back. He needed to convince his household not to surprise him. Surprises gave him nightmares.

  “So, I, uh, I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here?”

  “If you’d like to tell me,” Gilgamesh said, at his best Crow non-threatening.

  “Well, ah, I don’t know if you know, but, well, Kurt and I have always wanted children.”

  Ah, the light dawned. He supposed this sort of conversation was going to be a common occurrence now that news of all the pregnancies had spread to the household.

  “Yes?” he said, non-committal.

  “We wanted six children, and we’d just started trying when Gail made her transformation.” Sylvie’s face remained red, and she sat with her hands tight between her knees. Gilgamesh rescued the glass of lemonade from the arm of her chair before it fell over. She looked so miserable sitting there that his heart went out to her. Transform Sickness was the ruin of so many dreams.

  “Afterwards, we tried to a
dopt, but the adoption agencies don’t consider Focus households a safe environment to raise children. They all turned us down. I prayed for a miracle, but prayer never seemed to do any good.”

  She glanced down at the floor, and tears leaked from her eyes. She wasn’t a woman who cried attractively, and her eyes were swollen and red.

  “So we decided we would never have children of our own, and we try to be happy taking care of the other household children, but it’s never enough.”

  “Both of you want this?” Gilgamesh said.

  She nodded. “This is hard for Kurt. I know he’s sometimes thought of finding a non-Transform woman, but he loves me and he’s stayed with me anyway, even during the bad years.

  “Please,” she said. “Give me a baby?”

  Gilgamesh turned away, his heart aching. “You know there’s a risk. Dr. Zielinski isn’t sure the pregnancies will turn out right.” Also a risk that she would fall farther in love with him than would allow her marriage to continue.

  “I don’t care,” she said. “If there’s even a chance, this is what we want.”

  “Does Kurt agree with this?”

  She nodded. “We both want this. If you want to ask Kurt, I can go get him.”

  Gilgamesh shook his head. There was no reason to put the man through that. The truth was clear enough from Sylvie’s reactions.

  “Please?” she said.

  How could he refuse her? She hurt so much, and she wanted children so badly. He opened his arms to her. Maybe he couldn’t solve the big problems of the world, but he could solve this little one right here.

  “What’s going on, Shadow?” Gilgamesh said to the phone. “Why can’t I find any Crows interested in Focus households?”

  “Hmm,” Shadow said. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t surprise me. Sky and Focus Rizzari don’t count. Those two have always been too extreme for nearly anyone. Focus Ackerman and Orange Sunshine haven’t helped, in as much as he’s moved out of her household and only comes back once a week to keep things tuned up. Oh, and Newton and Hargrove don’t count because they aren’t making any real progress save at the personal level. Many Crows are watching closely how you and Focus Rickenbach-Schuber are doing, and their biggest worry is the household tuning process. You possess a stellar reputation as a sane Crow, despite your radical political views regarding Arms, and those who know Focus Rickenbach-Schuber know her to be one of the more acceptable Focuses. The longer your example works, the more will be attracted to follow.”

  “Why not sooner?” Gilgamesh said, frustrated. “It’s so obviously the right thing to do. Crows live out of cardboard boxes, afraid for their lives from Chimeras and half the world besides, starved for dross, and they won’t move in with a Focus? That doesn’t make any sense. I live in a hotel suite, with all the dross I can consume, and people fix food for me, people guard me, and on top of that, I’ve got an entire collection of women who think I’m the sexiest man they’ve ever laid eyes on. Any other Crow could have the same thing! All they need to do is build a household with a Focus…but no one’s interested. That’s crazy.”

  Shadow sighed. “Not as crazy as you might think.”

  “All right, why not?”

  “Focuses betray Crows, Gilgamesh. They enslave Crows when they can get away with it.”

  “Yes, I know. I shared the same concerns. That’s why we got an Arm involved and why we did the tagging. The Arm’s my protection against Focus betrayal, and tagging significantly reduces the other tensions.”

  Shadow didn’t answer for a moment. “Your solution almost works,” he said, eventually. “The problem, I think, is that too many Crows don’t trust the Arms’ protection. There are too many questions. Are they even capable of protecting us, or will the Focuses prove too strong for them? Are they interested in protecting us, or will they use us and enslave us?”

  “So is it hopeless?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s hopeless. Let the current crises settle down. There are a lot of Crows out there trying to keep their eyes on too many things at once, such as Keaton’s madness and the conflict between Chevalier and my faction. I’ll bet we’ll see a couple more within the next six months or so. Probably more after that. I think it’ll come eventually.”

  “That’s too slow,” Gilgamesh said. “At that rate, it’ll take decades before we see significant change, and we can’t wait that long. Transform Sickness is ramping up faster than that, and people are dying.”

  “I know,” Shadow said, “but Crows are cautious.”

  “What about you? You see the problem, don’t you? Why don’t you find a Focus? If you do it, lots of Crows will follow.”

  “Slowly, Gilgamesh, slowly. Yes, such a pairing sounds interesting. Yes, it even sounds like it might be a good idea. Yes, I even have a Focus in mind. But no, I’m not willing to rush into things, especially given the fact I’m working full time on ramping up my capabilities and my personal defenses. The Arm-Focus fight can’t be ignored, and I’m sure you’re feeling the hungry eyes of the Hunters. Things are too dangerous now. Give it some time.”

  “Damn.”

  “Gilgamesh,” Anita said. Gilgamesh was attempting to talk a mid-morning snack out of Isabella Wheelhouse. Rather successfully. Isabella had decided somewhere along the line that he needed the same amount of food as a Focus, and took it upon herself to make sure he was well fed. She gave him snacks, special plates at meals, and kept him supplied with a variety of special treats in his room.

  “Yes?” Gilgamesh said to Anita as she came into the household dining area, what used to be the hotel restaurant. Anita was the household’s receptionist. She answered the phone, took messages for all the different household businesses, directed delivery people, handled the mail, and did all the other miscellaneous similar jobs a household could generate. She was a thin woman, with bright bottle-red hair, and a good attitude toward life.

  She had tested positive for pregnancy yesterday.

  “I got a letter for you this morning,” she said, waving an envelope.

  Gilgamesh frowned. He received his mail through a PO Box. No one who would send him mail was supposed to know he lived here.

  “Thanks,” he said, as he took the letter.

  “Problem?” Isabella asked.

  “No, don’t worry,” he said.

  She frowned but let him be. “Are you sure you don’t want another cinnamon roll? You need to keep your strength up, and these are fresh this morning.” Isabella made truly wonderful cinnamon rolls, the recipe from Focus Hargrove’s household, but Gilgamesh shook his head. He already had three on his plate.

  Except for the pack of preschoolers getting their own mid-morning snack, the dining room was empty at this time of day. Gilgamesh took his plate of rolls and the letter to a table and sat down.

  The letter was a single sheet of paper.

  Gilgamesh,

  Your policies are dangerous, your teaching false, and your skills inferior. Your call for Crows to join with Focuses is an abomination and an offense to all Crows. As such, I deny your claim to the status of Guru.

  You are hereby challenged to a Wizard’s duel, to prove that you deserve the title of Guru that you pretend to. As the challenged party, you may choose time and location. Respond within seven days or be considered in forfeit, and all claim to the status of Guru abandoned. Your representative should contact Chevalier to arrange terms.

  Phobos

  There was contact information at the bottom.

  Gilgamesh read the letter three times, and then let it slip from numb fingers, overwhelmed by disgust.

  Here we go again.

  Carol Hancock: December 20, 1972

  The pounding of the rotors was like a hammer on my head, and I was briefly less than grateful for the enhanced hearing my transformation gave me. The helicopter pilot was pale from flying at this hour of the night, or from the stress of four Arms traveling with him. I spotted Adkins’ household off a couple miles to the northeast.

  No goin
g back from this point.

  I would take Adkins. Haggerty and her crew would take Schrum. Nothing would go wrong, well, unless Bass showed up on the enemy side. Teas and Elspeth? I had my doubts, although I hid them well. They weren’t as important, and we hadn’t put as much Commander into them as the others. Thinking in Commander mode proved difficult for me these days.

  “Coming up!” the pilot said. Adkins’ apartment complex appeared almost below us. I restlessly adjusted the straps on my parachute and Rose, Giselle and Mary did the same. We shifted into position and the pilot slowed the helicopter to a hover, high above the household. I nudged him over just a bit farther north, and then a hair to the west.

  One, two, and we were out the side, chutes opening almost immediately, to catch air for only a few scant seconds before we landed. Hard impact, hard enough to kill a normal, but we took advantage of our Arm bodies.

  As we expected from our scouting missions, Adkins’ tamed and tagged bad juice guarded the perimeter of her compound. Not here. Not on her roof.

  We cut the cords to the chutes and let them fly, almost before we hit roof, and then moved again. I ignored the shooting agony in my shins and started the burn as I ran. Little gravel peas skittered under our boots as we crossed the gravel and tar rooftop. We ignored the guard.

  I came to the edge of the roof and leapt without slowing down. Rose, not even a full step behind me, grabbed my ankles and braced herself. I swung in an arc and threw a brick ahead of me, to smash the glass. I passed through the window while the glass still fell. Daggers of glass sliced through me and made wounds nasty enough to kill a normal, but for a second time I ignored my wounds. I kicked the shards away from the base of the window as Rose fell from the roof and caught herself by the sill. She landed in the room only a heartbeat later. Giselle and Mary followed Rose in, swinging over on a rope.