An Age Without A Name Read online

  “I see your point,” Sinclair signed. It wouldn’t be his problem at that point in time, if the other part of his plan worked, but still. “Damn.”

  “How about Thomas the Dreamer?” the Commander signed. “He could use some recovery time from the Chicago fighting.”

  Gail got Thomas involved in Chicago! Sinclair wanted to dance. “I can’t see why he’d be interested in this.” Thomas and his faction had stayed aloof from all the conflicts convulsing the Crows in the past years.

  “Prove to him that the Judges are supporting the Hunters and you’ll get his interest. I guarantee that,” the Commander signed.

  Sinclair decided to trust the Commander. He knew how to prove the Judge–Hunter connection to Thomas the Dreamer, even without involving La Brea. Now that Sinclair thought about it, he decided he might even have another lure for the standoffish Crow Mentor.

  “Don’t give up pressuring the Hunters from the west,” Mizar signed. “Your group is the only thing keeping the Western Hunters from concentrating their efforts on the Bay Area, where your side is undermanned. You’re keeping an eye out for Hunters where you are, aren’t you?”

  Well. “Yes, we are. We’ve been expecting the Hunters to start helping the Judges any moment now. We’ve sort of been wondering where the local Hunters are.” Perhaps there was more to Mizar than adrenaline and terror roars.

  “Bass,” Lori said, her voice a magnetic Focus purr, even in the Dreaming. Very unlike her to reveal her capabilities like this, as she was a legit talker in the Dreaming in her real identity. “Enkidu sent Arm Bass to your area as punishment for her Chicago failures, and she’s a hell of a lot better strategist than any of the Hunters, by likely an order of magnitude. She’ll be waiting for your group to make the right mistake. Then she’ll do the Arm thing and pounce hard. You won’t survive.”

  Sinclair winced. This was what Amy hid from him. Hell. This bit of bad news made his plan even more necessary.

  He opened his eyes, just as Amy climbed back into the truck, followed by Warden Jane and Duke Hoskins. “Any luck?” she asked. The truck gave a lurch and they started rolling.

  “No. They have DeWitt hidden in the flow,” Sinclair said.

  “Then we have to give in,” Warden Jane said.

  “I don’t see any other way,” Duke Hoskins said.

  Amy turned to Sinclair. “What about your plan?”

  The plan he hadn’t said anything about. Trust the Arm to realize he had been holding back.

  “I’ll need the help of the Tlacolula Familia, and La Brea’s metasense disabled for a while,” he said. He wouldn’t say anything more.

  Once Sinclair started arranging things with Duende Poder and Bruja Torres, Amy, Midgard and Duke Hoskins began to get a little nervous. Still, they didn’t balk as Poder and Torres set up the élan construct window into the pheromone flow. The window was an odd, shimmering thing, about four foot square, barely visible to the eyes, but clear to the metasense. The window should be visible to half the Crows on the continent, but this Duende Familia used élan construct windows when they needed to speak to other Familia, and no one had ever noticed before. Or at least talked to Sinclair about them. Duende Poder believed their normal metasense shields and Dreaming shields would prevent this trick from being noticed, though Sinclair wasn’t so sure the Judges couldn’t find a way through.

  He had learned about this particular Duende Familia trick from the information exchange between Haggerty’s army and the Familia. Once he learned, he realized he could guide it as well as the Brujas did, with his Crow Shaman capabilities. He just didn’t understand how to create the élan window.

  They squatted in a campground just off US 26, inside the vast Mount Hood National Forrest. Off in the distance, Sinclair caught glimpses of Mount Hood. It was a beautiful view, lit from above by stars and a three-quarters moon. The air smelled of pine and fresh snow. Sinclair couldn’t have asked for a better environment for meditation. He remembered Thomas the Dreamer, his cabin in Maine, the odd barn that seemed so much bigger on the outside than the inside, the hoot of owls from among pines that smelled so much like the pines here. Sinclair spread his dice, letters and other Crow symbols in front of him, and then carefully placed every one of them. He had met the Mentor only a half dozen times, and had visited his barn in Maine but once. Sinclair hoped this would be enough for a personal connection. Then he bent his will to the window into the pheromone flow.

  It was enough. Thomas appeared in the window. Where most targets wouldn’t notice they were being watched, Thomas noticed immediately. Exactly what Sinclair counted on.

  “Welcome, Guru Thomas,” Sinclair said. Mentor status was private Crow business, and Sinclair didn’t use the title in public.

  “Crow Master Sinclair. What an interesting effect. I trust you are willing to tell me the story behind this?” Around him, Sinclair could hear the crew of watchers shift in astonishment, but they remained silent.

  Sinclair told the story. He started with the Duende Familia and ended with the discovery of the Judges support of the Hunters.

  “I hear you, Master Sinclair, but what sort of proof do you have?” Thomas remained courteous and solemn, as befitting a Crow of his rank. Now all Sinclair needed to do was convince him.

  “The proof is in my Barony,” Sinclair said. He motioned for Squire Stidman to step forward. “Squire Stidman was once a Hunter. He joined us when we freed him from the Hunter’s Law. He has personal knowledge of the help the Judges give to the Hunters.”

  Stidman stood in front of the élan construct window into the flow, in front of Thomas the Dreamer. The beefy Noble shifted uneasily. Not long ago Thomas would have been Stidman’s mortal enemy, and Stidman wasn’t nearly confident enough in his Nobility to feel safe.

  “May I borrow your capabilities for a moment, Crow Master Sinclair?” Thomas said. “This must be voluntary.”

  Sinclair nodded. He had expected as much. He opened himself, and then felt his dross move within him as Thomas manipulated it through the élan construct window. Intricate dross constructs far beyond Sinclair’s meager capabilities formed and vanished, and Squire Stidman shivered under their impact.

  “You are proven correct, Crow Master. May I ask why you are not asking help from Shadow?”

  “You may ask, and I will answer,” Sinclair said, shifting into Crow formality. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Haggerty put work into keeping a straight face. He did his best to ignore her. “Shadow is busy aiding Focus Biggioni and the household they share together in political matters too crucial to interrupt.”

  Thomas did laugh, a chuckle that only barely touched his eyes. “Whereas all I am doing at the moment is aiding in the recovery of Nobles from pseudo-death experiences, a task I am most unsuited for. What would you be expecting me to do, if I may ask?”

  “These Crows who name themselves the Judges are and have been aiding the Hunter civilization since its formation under Wandering Shade. They are still following Wandering Shade’s dark plans. They are directly working against the goals that you, Chevalier and Shadow are backing.”

  “I doubt that the Judges are still following Wandering Shade’s plans,” Thomas said. “But you’re correct in your other assessments. In addition, we’ve managed to gather Arpeggio’s support for these stated goals. This would make it extremely unwise of the Judges to back the Hunters in their war.” With Arpeggio’s commitment, that made four Crow Mentors. Only Mentors Snow and Jester remained uncommitted…and Jester supposedly supported the Judges. Thomas thought for a moment. “Duende Poder and Bruja Torres?” They nodded at him. “Would you be available for consultation and conversations, if I visited you in your current location?” Sinclair’s real bait. He doubted any of the VIP Crows would be able to turn down a conversation with the Familia representatives.

  “Yes,” Bruja Torres said. “Of course.”

  Thomas smiled. “Then, perhaps I should pay a visit. I feel that Athabasca may need some wise counsel regarding
his activities and the activities of his followers, and it’s more than past time I made the acquaintance of the eminence named Jester. I trust that you, Arm Haggerty, would have no problems with such a visit?”

  “Not at all, Crow Thomas,” Amy said, as polite as he could ask for.

  “Then I will be on my way there, post-haste,” Thomas said.

  After Duende Poder and Bruja Torres dropped the élan construct, Amy snagged Sinclair firmly by the arm and frog-marched him over to the end of the campground parking lot, more than just a little of the Arm predator showing through. Hoskins followed, but didn’t interfere. “The farther we go, the more nervous you get,” Amy said. “What’s next?”

  He sighed. Inevitable. He wouldn’t be able to implement his plan by keeping it a secret. “I believe Crow Master Sinclair has found a way to retrieve Sir DeWitt from the Judges, and he suspects that we won’t like his plan,” Duke Hoskins said, pinning Sinclair with his gaze. “Now that I think about it, I’m positive I won’t like it.”

  Sinclair took a deep breath. “We can’t let them keep DeWitt for any length of time, your Grace,” Sinclair said. “DeWitt knows too much. On the other hand…” He found it hard to say his plan aloud.

  “On the other hand, what?” Amy said, demanding with her predator.

  Sinclair clenched his fists, and took another deep breath. “We need to stall, ma’am, to allow Guru Thomas time to arrive.” He paused. “Crow memories are quite malleable.”

  “Master Sinclair! No!” Duke Hoskins said, his voice raised to a wall-powdering shout.

  “Coriolis has progressed quite well in his Crow Master training, in my opinion,” Sinclair said, catching his breath and keeping his voice reasonable by an effort of will. “You know this is necessary, and I trust you will find a way to retrieve me once Guru Thomas finishes his examination of the Judges.” He turned to Amy. “The reason we haven’t had any Hunter problems yet here in the northwest is that Bass is here, in exile from Enkidu’s main army. You suspected as much, even though you haven’t said anything about it to the rest of us.” Amy nodded, utterly unreadable. “She’s waiting for the right moment to launch an assault that would fully take us all, and she’s holding the Hunters back from their usual piecemeal attack strategy. When her attack comes, you’ll need all the real fighters you can get your hands on.” Amy nodded again, and now Sinclair sensed the fire burning in her eyes. She understood his point entirely, and agreed with his plan. “So, how did your phone conversations go?”

  Hoskins smiled and clacked his crab claws, but Amy was the one to answer. “Do you remember Dan Freeman?” Sinclair nodded. He had met the strange ability-borrowing male Goldilocks several times, though he still found it hard to think of Freeman as Freeman wanted to be referred to, as a Courtier. “He didn’t show up in any of the reports on the Chicago fights, where I expected him to be, so I did a bit of digging and found out he’d been out on a proving quest. A successful one at that. I’ve talked to him and the Crow Masters hanging around Chicago, and convinced them the bounty of his quest needs to go to Duke Hoskins.”

  “Bounty of his quest?” What sort of proving quest would count for a, um, Courtier, anyway?

  “Mature Beast Men, four of them,” Amy said. “Ready to be turned Noble.”

  Sinclair nodded. Freeman, a Knight of the Nobles. This was going to be interesting. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to see the inevitable fracas.

  The one thing Sinclair requested of them was not to let Beth know until afterwards. He spent the next hour under a huge old pine typing a lengthy letter to her, filled with promises and a great many apologies. Then he readied his mind, doing his best to ignore the bustle back at the campsite, as other people made the necessary arrangements.

  Six hours later, dawn still a long way off, they gathered in the appointed spot, on a narrow road just outside of a small town south of Mount Hood improbably named ‘Government Camp’. Sinclair and Duke Hoskins walked forward, dragging the Crow La Brea with them. Five other Crows, and Sir DeWitt, similarly bound, waited farther down the road. There were others, beyond. Officers of the law, about fifty normal sheriffs, police officers and other mundane authorities, all long co-opted by the Judges, and likely by Wandering Shade years ago.

  “We’re ready,” Duke Hoskins said.

  “As are we,” one of the Crows said. He wore a black judge’s robe, and moved with stately dignity.

  Sinclair marched forward with the Crow La Brea in hand. One of the Crows led Sir DeWitt forward, and then pushed him to the ground once Sinclair and La Brea passed, going the other way.

  The Crow turned and grabbed Sinclair, who nodded, and they continued on to the enemy lines. Several paces on forward, three of the Corpseriders walked forward and helped Sir DeWitt get to his feet.

  “You were a fool to agree to this,” the Crow who held him whispered to Sinclair. “You think your people will be allowed to stay in Oregon, even if we hold you as hostage? You show weakness, Crow, and you’re going to regret your decision.”

  “You talk like your friend, Arm Bass,” Sinclair said, his knees shivering as the panic built. The Crow shot him a dirty look tinged with fear. Sinclair smiled a hidden smile. He knew he had once known a great many reasons why this hostage exchange would work, but for some reason, he had forgotten them all. He suspected he had even wiped his memories himself.

  Why else would he have offered himself up in trade for Sir DeWitt? Sinclair’s side gave him up to be a hostage and freed the Crow La Brea besides. The return of a single Noble, no matter how well loved, certainly wasn’t worth that. Even the return of the Noble and the right to stay in Oregon combined wasn’t worth that. There had to be something more going on. Something forgotten.

  Sinclair knew he wouldn’t emerge from this unscathed. He hoped the reasons he agreed to this turned out to be worth the gamble.

  Dolores Sokolnik (3/11/73 – 3/15/73)

  They’re in Wapinitia Pass,” Del said. She and Scout sat hand in hand on top of Beth Hargrove’s RV, watching for trouble in the vast expanse of coniferous forest that surrounded them. Del was lower on juice than she liked, but not into low juice. She had been getting a lot of juice from Beth over the last couple of weeks, but the hunting had been lousy, so Amy pulled rank. Juice in, juice out. Yes, Del understood the importance of making sure the leaders were more juiced up than some minor peon, but it still felt like a screw job.

  The late winter early spring smell of pines, damp earth, and moldering pine needles was so heady it was almost intoxicating. What they metasensed, and what she located on the map, was a whole horde of Gals, juice slaves, a few Hunters and one Arm. Bass.

  The cautious part of Del’s mind ran through scenario after scenario about how fast she could either get to Amy, or, more reasonably, how quickly they could get Amy here.

  “What are they doing there, all out in the open?” Scout said.

  “They don’t realize that anyone on our side can metasense that far,” she said. Her face seemed to want to shift into a slightly smug expression, and she let it. Del had a spectacular metasense range for an Arm, and aided by a Crow in an affinity link, their combined metasense range became equally spectacular. Her own unaided metasense range was 160% of normal for an Arm; Scout’s unaided metasense range was 110% of normal for a Crow. When they synergized, they got a 150% range over Crow normal with full acuity, and a 250% range over Crow normal with declining acuity, at least outside of urban areas. And the Cascades were about as rural as you got. “They’re downwind of us and using junk-level metasense shields.” Élan derived, from the Hunters. Virtually worthless, in Del’s opinion.

  Bass was still too close for comfort, though.

  “So they’re backup?” Scout asked.

  “I don’t believe so. They’re well outside of the Judges’ metasense range, too. I don’t think the Judges know they’re there.” The Judges metasense shielding was another story entirely, another clue in her analysis. If the Judges supported the Bass-led Hunter group,
Del probably wouldn’t be able to detect them.

  Did the Judges provide real Hunter support? Haggerty’s group, strung out like beads on a chain along US 26, was at high risk for ambush, and the only thing going for them was the rough terrain on either side of the highway. Getting any information out of the Judges’ mess was impossible, though. Someone, likely the Judges’ Guru Athabasca, covered a half-mile long and quarter-mile wide area with metasense fuzz, a protection large enough to hide a Hunter army large enough to destroy them. The long oval area lay right up against Amy’s small exchange group. According to Amy, who did a quick reconnoiter of the area on foot from upslope, instead of a Hunter army, the Judges hid a mass of police and state troopers, including, if Amy’s guess was correct, the State of Oregon’s crack MA (Monster Assault) unit. All dug in defensively; the Judges were indeed Crows, and they didn’t think of attacking, just defense.

  Del shivered, feeling the night cold for the first time. If the Hunters and Judges possessed an integrated command, they could defeat Amy’s rag-tag army, Del believed. Amy actually wanted to convince the Hunters to attack, as Amy thought she could take them with her tactical expertise if they tried anything, even in this situation. Even outnumbered. If Del ran the other side’s integrated operations, she would order Bass’s group to swing around west and cut them off, trap them between the police and state troopers on the east and Hunters on the west, and force their surrender. For an Arm, this was an obvious thing to do, and she suspected even some of the Hunters could figure that out.

  As it was, Amy would win the bet regarding her group’s relative safety. Yes, Bass advised the local Hunters. However, if Del trusted her and Scout’s combined metasense, the ‘local Hunters’ numbered only five, they were junior, and they possessed a total force around the size of Wandering Shade’s Detroit assault group of four years ago. Amy’s crew would need to make a whopper of a mistake for such a small group to threaten them.