Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Intrigue

If that was the way he wanted to play it, though, fine. “You have abandoned the bounds of prudence,” I stated. “You have attracted attention.”

From his smirk, Dooglas seemed to find that funny. “So? What business is that of mine, with my enemies at my feet? And who are you to say so?”

“Sapriel may have been fool enough to treat with the likes of you, but that doesn’t mean you should draw any blanket conclusions about your importance.”

“Or his,” added Jill.

This time he did laugh, throwing his head back and “heh-heh-heh”ing at the ceiling. “He said your kind would be around, yapping at heels like curs after scraps.” Dooglas took two quick steps toward me, stared me square in the eye for an instant, and then jabbed an extended finger into my chest. “This for your prudence,” he announced. “This for your attention.” He exhaled in my face, a breath of old garlic and a few rotten teeth and a heavy dose of something that had been rancid for at least six months, then stepped back and folded his arms. “Touch me if you dare. He has given me his favor, his favor and his protection.”

“Well, la-di-dah,” I said. “Since you obviously have nothing to worry about, how about sharing your side of the story with us?”

“All in its good time,” said Dooglas, “all in its time.” He giggled again.

“Shall I strike him down?” Jill murmured in my ear.

“Don’t bother,” I said, speaking as much to him as to her. “His comeuppance will dawn soon enough.”

“Like curs,” Dooglas repeated. “Like beetles, like vermin of all sorts.”

“Right. You are Dooglas, Councillor Dooglas, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, “for this moment at least, oh, yes.”

“Just making sure,” I told Jill.

“This is obviously a waste of time,” she said.

“You know, I think I agree with you.” I took another look at Dooglas, preening himself by the fire, rising up on his toes and then sinking back down, watching us with the shining eyes of somebody who’s just found true religion. “Ask yourself this,” I said to him, “if you’ve a mind left to do it with. Where will you be if Sapriel’s power runs out, or even Sapriel himself? We are not the only ones interested in him. Do you think he will waste a thought on you? Where will you be, you and your business? You are not exactly leaving much to the imagination, are you, and you have not left yourself anywhere to retreat. Is this what a leading merchant renowned for his perspicacity would do?”

That didn’t ruffle him; nothing was going to ruffle him. He hadn’t even been listening, so why should I bother wasting my voice? I jerked my head at the door and Jill preceded me without another word. We didn’t have any more trouble with the dogs on the way out than we’d had on the way in. Dooglas’ small army of goons was probably following the same guidelines that had gotten us into the house on our arrival, that and the intimidating effect of Jill, but the way they melted away from us on our exit could possibly have had something to do with the expression on my own face.

“Somehow that didn’t sound like normal senility,” I said when we’d reached the street. I’d heard of god-rapture, but I’d never actually seen a case up close. Not every person could handle the personal attention of a god; all that power and temptation right there, staring you in the face, and its wielder dealing with you as one person to another. Maybe it was some side effect of projecting a god’s aura, something real gods learned to use as a weapon, but whatever the cause, the effect could be enough to make a previously rational man take leave of his judgment. Delusions of grandeur had nothing on it, especially if you lost track of the fact that there was always a price and listened instead to the rhetoric that gods were so good at, about gracing you with their favor or rewarding you for your devotion or needing something only you could provide. “Not much doubt about what was going on there.”

“You didn’t ask questions,” Jill said. “I thought we were there to find out what his role was.”

“I did ask,” I reminded her. “He wasn’t answering. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t find out anyway.”

“Oh, we did, did we?”

“Sure we did, as you know very well. There’s no reason to act dense with me. He’s Sapriel’s front man on this Groot thing, which means he was in with the bank deal, too, and in return Sapriel promised him backing for whatever he plans to do; probably take over the city, that’s what these guys always seem to have in mind. By the sound of it, Sapriel may have even promised he’d elevate his stature in the world.”

“Or out of it,” said Jill.

“Yeah,” I said, “you’re right. But our real interest wasn’t in Dooglas; it never was. He’s just a flunky. No matter how much goo he’s got in his brain, though, he’d have to be a total idiot not to let Sapriel know we were sniffing around. That’ll stir things up, maybe even flush Sapriel out into the open.”

“It could also send him into hiding. He’ll certainly have more warning to prepare his response.”

“Maybe. He had to expect someone would show up asking questions, so I’d suspect he already had some plans of his own to deal with it. I don’t think it’ll matter. Anyway, I believe in the value of stirring as a general token of principle.”

There was more she could have said, but she didn’t, and so eventually we turned onto the Lane of Wealth and arrived back at the house. Jill eyed me again as we climbed the stairs, but she didn’t even bother to try the freshening-up ploy again; we’d check in with Zhardann together. Or at least I thought that was the plan, until I pushed open the door of the study.

Zhardann was still there, having changed into a comfortable lounging robe in the interim. At the creak of the door he looked over to me in the entranceway, and then glanced back across the room, to the other man over by the window. The new man was about my height but stockier, with a shock of straight black hair combed carefully to the side over his ears and flopping over his collar at the rear. His dark eyes were bloodshot, as was his nose, frankly, but his outfit was fine, all black with silver trim and a brocade neck ruffle, if a bit the worse for apparently having been worn around the clock for at least the last few days. Whether he’d really been sleeping in his clothes was a toss-up, since he was another character who didn’t look like he’d been getting a whole lot of sleep lately in any position. Although I’d been repeating the observation enough to make even myself doubt it, I was sure I’d never met him before.

He nodded to me across the room in recognition and pleasant acknowledgment, and said, “Good to see you, my man.”

I nodded to him in return, and touched the handle of my walking stick to my brow as a quick salute. As I did this, Monoch gave off a gentle tingly vibration, like a tactile purr, then quickly subsided again into silence. Rather than remain standing in the doorway, I went over to the mantle and leaned back against it as though I were at ease. “So,” I said.

The newcomer coughed gently, not in a catarrhy sort of way but as a bit of opening punctuation. “As I was saying. I do regret that events have evolved in the manner you know. Even if the point is obvious, it must be stated that I failed to realize the ring would be so difficult to handle, and so popular an item as to make it difficult to hold on to as well.” He gave another little cough. “One is sometimes forced to eat one’s words, or to face an embarrassing situation of one’s own making. One is never happy about this sort of thing, but we are all mature here, we all know how the game is played.”