Book 2 - Shadows Linger Read Online Free Page A

shrugged. “Go to the wood-seller before somebody
else tries to take my money.”
    Shed looked at the door. He did not want to go outside. They
might be waiting. But then he looked at Raven again. The man was
cleaning his nails with that wicked knife. “Right
away.”
    It was snowing now. The street was treacherous. Only a thin
white mask covered the mud.
    Shed could not help wondering why Raven had intervened. To
protect his money? Reasonable . . . Only,
reasonable men stayed quiet around Krage. He would cut your throat
if you looked at him wrong.
    Raven was new around here. Maybe he did not know about
Krage.
    He would learn the hard way. His life wasn’t worth two
gersh anymore.
    Raven seemed well-heeled. He wouldn’t carry his whole
fortune around with him, would he? Maybe he kept part hidden in his
room. Maybe enough to pay off Krage. Maybe he could set Raven up.
Krage would appreciate that.
    “Let’s see your money,” Latham said when he
asked for wood. Shed produced Raven’s silver leva. “Ha!
Who died this time?”
    Shed reddened. An old prostitute had died at the Lily last
winter. Shed had rifled her belongings before summoning the
Custodians. His mother had lived warm for the rest of the winter.
The whole Buskin knew because he had made the mistake of telling
Asa.
    By custom, the Custodians took the personal possessions of the
newly dead. Those and donations supported them and the
Catacombs.
    “Nobody died. A guest sent me.”
    “Ha! The day you have a guest who can afford
generosity . . . “ Latham shrugged.
“But what do I care? The coin is good. I don’t need its
provenance. Grab some wood. You’re headed that
way.”
    Shed staggered back to the Lily, face burning, ribs aching.
Latham hadn’t bothered to hide his contempt.
    Back home, with the fire taking hold of the good oak, Shed drew
two mugs of wine and sat down opposite Raven. “On the
house.”
    Raven stared momentarily, took a sip, maneuvered the mug to an
exact spot upon the tabletop. “What do you want?”
    “To thank you again.”
    “There’s nothing to thank me for.”
    “To warn you, then. You didn’t take Krage serious
enough.”
    Latham tramped in with an armload of firewood, grumbling because
he couldn’t get his wagon out. He would be back and forth for
a long time.
    “Go away, Shed.” And, as Shed rose, face hot, Raven
snapped, “Wait. You think you owe me? Then someday I’ll
ask a favor. You do it. Right?”
    “Sure, Raven. Anything. Just name it.”
    “Go sit by the fire, Shed.”
    Shed squeezed in between Asa and his mother, joining their surly
silence. That Raven really was creepy.
    The man in question was engaged in a lively exchange of signs
with the deaf serving girl.
     
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Chapter Eight:
TALLY: CLOSE-UP
    I let the tip of my blade drop to the inn floor. I slumped in
exhaustion, coughing weakly in the smoke. I swayed, feebly reached
for the support of an overturned table. Reaction was setting in. I
had been sure this time was the end. If they hadn’t been
forced to extinguish the fires
themselves . . . 
    Elmo crossed the room and threw an arm around me. “You
hurt, Croaker? Want me to find One-Eye?”
    “Not hurt. Just burned out. Been a long time since I been
so scared, Elmo. Thought I was a goner.”
    He righted a chair with a foot and sat me down. He was my
closest friend, a wiry, old hardcase seldom given to moodiness. Wet
blood reddened his left sleeve. I tried to stand.
“Sit,” he ordered. “Pockets can take care of
it.”
    Pockets was my understudy, a kid of twenty-three. The Company is
getting older—at least at its core, my contemporaries. Elmo is past
fifty. The Captain and Lieutenant straddle that five-zero. I
wouldn’t see forty again. “Get them all?”
    “Enough.” Elmo settled on another chair.
“One-Eye and Goblin and Silent went after the ones who took
off.” His voice was vacant. “Half the Rebels in the
province, first shot.”
    “We’re getting too old