The Forgefires of God (The Cause Book 3) Page 18

  “Shit,” Del said. She had heard the term ‘juice music’ and thought it some waste-of-time art project, to allow the Focuses to compete with the Crows’ artistic dross constructs. “That’s huge.”

  “You’re telling me. The Boss knew about it, of course, but wasn’t telling any of the rest of us.” Bartlett pointed a finger at herself. “See this thing here in my juice structure?”

  “That partial tag thing?” Del said. She paused. “I presume it’s not one of those natural tags I can sense but nobody else can?”

  “Given how this was discovered, I can guarantee you aren’t the only Arm who can sense such things,” Merry said, a smile on her face. “It turns out the Commander’s Arms have been spending most of their spare time disseminating a new tag technology and firming up their internal group hierarchy, so they can all work together much better. It’s gotten to the point where the Commander’s able to house all her Arms in Chicago without any territorial disputes.” Del inhaled, thought for a moment, and then realized the Commander had figured out how to solve the problem Del faced now, of multiple Arms in one organization. She, too, understood the danger of Sylvia Bass. “This tag variant is called a Webberly tag, and it’s a mutual tag with Betsy.” Arm Whetstone. “When I’m working on one of the Boss’s projects with Betsy, I’m dominant, and when I’m helping Betsy with one of the Commander’s projects, she’s dominant.”

  Dottie gave Merry a blank look, not at all comprehending the power of such an arrangement, or the point of Merry’s long digression. “So you’re saying this couldn’t have been treachery from the Commander and her allies because they were too busy with this insanity?” They didn’t need treachery. They would bury everyone else with all their new technology, bury them six feet deep.

  “Uh huh. It only just looked like the Commander ditched the Hero’s ‘push the Cause’ program. She didn’t, and if you’re getting any treachery vibes at night about that crew’s activities, it’s that, not setting us up to fail in our attacks on the first Focuses. I’m afraid we did that ourselves, by not having the Commander planning our attacks for us. Planning military operations is why she’s called the Commander. Of course none of her attacks failed.”

  Sinclair: December 20, 1972

  Sinclair paced.

  The rubble piles behind Duquesne Glass felt exposed to him, although Rumor insisted the factory yard was safe. The glass factory was located along the Monongahela, several miles to the south of downtown Pittsburgh, next to a huge US Steel complex. It had been a favored Crow meetpoint for years, considered safe because the slag piles were just out of Crow metasense range of the Patterson compound. Just past sunset, and the night cold slowly settled in. The distant vibrations of traffic and the lap of the Monongahela against its banks disturbed what could have been perfect silence.

  Save for Midgard, Gilgamesh and Sky, the whole damned flock was here waiting to talk to the Commander, hiding among towering mounds and shadows of empty buildings.

  “Master Sinclair, you’ve probably never been safer in your life,” Duke Hoskins said. Attempting to calm Sinclair again.

  “It’s not just this location, it’s what’s going on,” Sinclair said. This wasn’t a bad location. The night shadows made the flock of them almost invisible against the giant piles of slag. “A part of me says this is the wrong fight, another says that no matter how insane this is, we need to do it. Did Sky ever tell his story about how Patterson appeared to him during the Commander’s rescue from the CDC, your grace?”

  Hoskins grunted the affirmative, as did Count Dowling, though Count Dowling accompanied his grunt with an eye roll, indicating he had heard the story far too many times.

  “Going up against Patterson means we’re going up against a Focus who somehow can manipulate dross like a Crow, who can somehow, impossibly, manipulate élan. Just thinking about such things makes me want to panic,” Sinclair said.

  Hoskins nodded, but didn’t speak. The other Crows – Shadow, Occum, Rumor, Orange Sunshine, Newton and Zero – quieted their conversation. Amid the faint sounds of traffic, Sinclair heard the grumbling of motorcycles, five of them, approaching from the south. Then nothing.

  Many people approached, coming in through the rubble under a witch’s metasense shields. Their metapresences were nothing more than the faint static of shields, and even that was only detectable within a quarter mile. The people split up into three groups, one coming directly toward the Crows, the other two angling off to the sides.

  The approaching group revealed themselves as they rounded the nearest pile of slag.

  “Commander Hancock, Hero Haggerty, Focus Queen Rizzari,” Shadow said, soft spoken and gracious as always, making sure to include their nicknames as commonly used by the Nobles and associated Crows. “Welcome. I see you’ve opted for independence, Commander.” The other two groups were presumably Rizzari’s bodyguards.

  Hoskins came to Sinclair’s side, with a sniff and a shiver of anticipation indicating his Noble’s blood was up for a fight. No feel of hostility toward the three who approached. Hoskins targeted his hostility at the Commander’s enemies.

  They exchanged hand-sniffs all around, the odor of combat prevalent on the three women’s hands. Violence and war lived deep in the human psyche, and any Crow shaman worth the name could sense the signs of recent battles within the combatants. These three had been fighting Focuses and their households in the past day.

  Still, these three warrior women knew their courtesies. The two Arms kept their predators leashed, wearing the gentle personas they often presented when dealing with Crows in professional and casual situations. Focus Rizzari wasn’t carrying Lady Death upon her at the moment, but the perky Focus Crow-friend persona she had used to win the hearts and minds of so many Crows over the years.

  “The time seemed appropriate,” the Commander said, relaxed and polite. “I remember at one point, you promised me support should I decide to venture out on my own.”

  “Yes, I did promise that,” Shadow said. “What Crow and Noble support are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for support in two areas. First, I need to figure out why Keaton lost. I also need to figure out what the hell’s going on with the two unknowns who left fifteen minutes later.”

  Sinclair trembled a bit, hearing Kali’s name, a reminder of how the leading American Arm was now in Patterson’s hands. The assembled Crows and Nobles echoed him, each in his own way.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” Shadow said, then turned to Rumor. Nodded.

  “Commander,” Rumor said. He stood as tall as a Noble, but rail-thin. “Arms Keaton, Bass and Rayburn, along with Crows Snowcone and Kincaid, and a group of sixty-two well-armed soldiers-of-fortune, in five vehicles, including two tractor-trailer rigs, exited the Pennsylvania Turnpike at exit 6, to the east of Pittsburgh, and drove west on I-376. They exited I-376 onto the William Penn Highway, before the Squirrel Hill Tunnel, and proceeded north. They left all their vehicles save one in the parking lot of a shopping center at the corner of North Robinson and Frankstown Rd. Following that, they paced the remaining vehicle, a metasense-interfering tractor-trailer rig likely stolen from Crow Guru Chevalier, all the way to the backside truck entrance of Hilltop, Patterson’s compound. The trailer contained a military howitzer, and they used it at an absurdly depressed angle to blow a hole in the truck entrance. The Arms, the Crows, and the troops entered Patterson’s compound, got entangled in one of the compound’s fixed juice pattern defenses, and surrendered without a fight.”

  The Commander hid her reaction. “Without a fight. They all surrendered?”

  “Commander, I believe that when the three Arms surrendered none of the other attackers remained conscious.”

  The Commander whistled and shook her head. “We’ve never faced juice weaponry that potent. I didn’t think juice weaponry could be that potent.”

  “It is when mixed with élan,” Rumor said.

  “What about the two escapees?” the Commander
said. “Were they part of Keaton’s attack crew?”

  “I wish I knew the answer to your question. Patterson covered the two with her best metasense protections, and my guess is that they were either Arms or Combat Focuses. Neither were Crows or Beast Men, of that I’m convinced, and neither matched the juice signatures of any of the three Arms in on the attack. They left on a single motorcycle, and quickly left the Pittsburgh area, heading west.”

  “Unknowns, then. They have a mission, and we’re not going to like it when we find out what the mission is. If either of them surfaces again, could you tell me or my people? Immediately?”

  “Certainly, Commander,” Shadow said. “What is the second area of support you’re looking for?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard from the Nobles that the best defense is a good offense,” the Commander said. Her comment brought a smile to Hoskins’ face. “I’m going to be attacking Shirley Patterson in a few days, and I need help from the Crows.”

  Shadow nodded. “I see. In that case, there’s another issue we must speak of first.”

  “Certainly.” The Commander remained calm. Sinclair half-expected complaints about lack of cooperation and Crow intransigence, especially after Hoskins and Dowling’s lengthy diatribes on the subject.

  “Gilgamesh has been challenged to a duel,” Shadow said.

  The Commander but raised an eyebrow. Sinclair marveled at her self-control. “A duel? Is there any possibility Shirley Patterson is behind this?”

  “Such coordination is of course possible. I distrust coincidences, and too many of our adversaries have strong connections to the Pheromone Flow. On the other hand, we’ve expected this challenge ever since Gilgamesh announced his Guru status in October. His recent discovery regarding Crow fertility was the final straw.”

  The Commander grunted and stared off into the darkness. “Our adversaries, as you term them, may not be allied, but they’re linked together simply by being our adversaries,” the Commander said. “The timing of the challenge may have been chosen simply to prevent us from concentrating our resources on the challenge. What exactly is a Crow duel, Shadow? What are its implications?”

  To Sinclair’s surprise, Shadow explained the Crow politics of the situation to the Commander. Starting with the basics. It took Sinclair a few minutes to figure out why Shadow started with the basics, before he remembered Gilgamesh’s utter bogglement regarding politics of any variety. It took Shadow about fifteen minutes to finish his explanation, and some of what he talked about – such as how this was a challenge to Shadow’s status as a Mentor – Sinclair hadn’t even known.

  The explanation didn’t throw the Commander. She seemed to have a good feel for politics. Even Rumor, with his disdainful attitude regarding Arms and things political and strategic, seemed impressed. Sinclair decided that part of the reason for the explanation was as a lesson to Rumor. Shadow had been going all out with his politicking in the past month, including an attempt to pry Rumor loose from Thomas the Dreamer.

  “My dreams of Patterson have Crows in them, Shadow,” the Commander said.

  Shadow nodded, and half turned to Rumor.

  “Patterson held at least one Crow as a captive before Keaton’s attack,” Rumor said. Sinclair shivered at the news and nestled closer to Hoskins. “She may possess many more.”

  “A gamble, then…” A smile crept across the Commander’s face. “Shadow, can you spare any of your faction at all to help in the attack on Patterson?”

  “Well, Sky and Occum are both in need of proving quests as Gurus,” Shadow said. “My stature would be helped immensely if they were to succeed and gain official Guru status. Then, of course, there is Rumor. If you have no objections?” he said, to Rumor.

  “My only objection depends on how seriously you’re approaching this attack, Commander. What makes you think you’ll fare any better than Arm Keaton and her small army did?” Rumor said.

  “Well, as to faring better, I do know enough to come talk to you first.”

  Rumor laughed. Sinclair winced at Rumor’s casual use of Crow willpower. Few Crows, if any, could be so amused and so sure of themselves when facing these three warrior Major Transforms. Rumor should be a Guru, perhaps even a Mentor, save for the same political problems holding back Shadow. His casual bantering with the Commander did nothing to disprove this assertion. “If you’re that intelligent, why then I suppose I will need to help you in your little war,” Rumor said, with a chuckle. “Perhaps I can even give you some help ahead of time.”

  “What sort of help?”

  Rumor looked the Commander over, a faint smile on his face. “How about a map of Patterson’s compound? She’s taken over an entire neighborhood; it’s not just a single building. I can also tell you about her personal capabilities, her flunkies, her defenses, her daily routine, what sort of tricks you can expect her to use, and what sort of weapons you’ll be facing. Or, if rumors of your hobbies are correct, her compound’s food purchase history.”

  “I have all night,” the Commander said. She turned back to Shadow. “The Nobles aren’t going to be allowed at the Crow duel, are they? They’re one of the questions you’re fighting over.”

  Shadow nodded. Sinclair was amazed. He hadn’t picked that tidbit out of Shadow’s explanation.

  “In that case, we won’t be diluting our strength…” the Commander said, eyes focused on infinity. Sinclair wasn’t sure what the Commander was up to, but it reeked of being devious. “Instead of delaying things, I’d like you and Gilgamesh to take advantage of the fact you can choose when and where to hold the duel by scheduling it to happen during our attack, and by holding it somewhere close to Pittsburgh. He’s got to win, too.”

  Shadow thought for a moment. “I think we can arrange the first. The latter may be significantly more difficult.”

  The Commander nodded and then turned to Hoskins and Dowling. “Your graces. I’m going to stage a large battle. Any interest?”

  Sinclair winced. She had just tossed the red meat to the starving dogs.

  “Oh, a little, for various reasons.” Hoskins grinned and showed his teeth. “A real battle is difficult for a Noble to resist.”

  “I would like to ask for more than that. What would it take for you to commit the full resources of the Nobles to this, since they won’t be needed at the duel?”

  Hoskins crossed his arms across his chest. “At some time in the near future we’re going to go after Enkidu and the Hunters. When we do, I want the full resources of the Arms.”

  His comment took the Commander by surprise. Rumor had leaned on Hoskins and Dowling not to participate at all in a fight against Patterson, or at least to make sure the Nobles weren’t going to be used as cannon fodder. Rumor insisted that Patterson had many traps prepared for the Nobles. Hoskins remained unconvinced, but was at least taking the bargaining seriously.

  “I’m asking your help on a single battle. You’re asking my help in what will most likely be a long war, your grace.”

  Hoskins said nothing, and just stared at the Commander. Hoskins had also leaned on Occum and Sinclair, to convince them that for negotiations such as these, the Noble leaders, not the Crow Masters, had to be the ones making the decisions.

  The Commander nodded. “Okay. You understand how much I want to go after the Hunters, and how much I’ve worked to get the other Major Transforms interested. I’m willing to agree, with one condition.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want command. When we do go after the Hunters, I claim overall strategic command.”

  Hoskins frowned. “It’s our fight. A Noble should be in command.”

  “It’s our fight as much as it’s your fight. Enkidu is a personal enemy of mine.”

  Hoskins was unconvinced. The Commander shook her head. “Command or no deal. Do you want command or do you want to win? If you’ve got anyone as good as I am, I haven’t seen it. You want all the resources of the Arms? That includes me and all I can do.”

  Hoskins smiled sar
donically. “You seem a little sensitive about being under someone else’s command.”

  The Commander shrugged. “You could say that.”

  He thought for a long moment. “I want a position as a first tier senior lieutenant.”

  The Commander nodded. “Then and now. I’ll take you as one of my senior lieutenants when we go against Patterson.”

  “That will be acceptable.”

  “Good. I’m gathering my army in a camp in the Adirondacks. Come. Bring your Nobles…”

  “Commander?” Sinclair said. She turned to him.

  “Yes?”

  “I have a suggestion, perhaps a little intemperate and forward,” Sinclair said, his voice trailing off. He was doing it again! He was just an ordinary Crow…

  The Commander didn’t respond, just eying him quietly. Without threat.

  He finally found his voice, again, and shot a glance at Focus Rizzari. “Ma’am, Pregnant Transforms, especially pregnant Focuses, are extremely attractive to Crows. Perhaps…” His voice trailed off, again unable to speak. Too personal.

  “I like!” the Commander said, with a laugh. “You can’t have Lori for your duel, but Gail and her household are only doing logistics. That’s a wonderful idea, to have them come to the duel to support Gilgamesh. Thanks!”

  Sinclair nodded, his face beet red and blushing.

  Dolores Sokolnik: December 21, 1972

  The front doorbell rang.

  Del decided to investigate, almost overcome with worries. A full day had passed since Ma’am Keaton last reported in. More, a couple of hours ago, Focus Morris had disappeared from the basement. No one could figure out how. Something was badly wrong.

  Del picked up nothing on her metasense, and through the peephole, she saw an operative from Vartle Courier, the courier service Ma’am Keaton used. The deliveryman carried a huge box in his hand. Del sniffed. No explosives, or odor of Bass in the area, either. Del cursed fate – this could be a test by Ma’am Keaton – and undid the locks and deadbolts. Keaton’s door, battleship steel, would stop a charging rhino.