Black Steel (26 page)

Now, the night enveloped him like a loose cloak as he walked, pondering the mystery of Kildee Wu.

What, he wondered, did it all mean? He had been a writer once, he'd had some grasp of emotions, hadn't he? What was it about this situation that eluded him?

The man with the dog passed him going the other way, waved, and continued on. Sleel waved back absently.

He was too old for this, Sleel thought. Whatever it was.

Wu was in the dojo about to go through Fire Hand when she heard the noise at the door. The sound of plastic shattering. Without pausing she took the sword from its stand and turned to face the entrance to the dojo.

The threat was not long in arriving. Five of them, one woman and four men, filing slowly into the workout area. They wore swords with long and nearly straight blades, and black fighting tights. None of them spoke as they spread out along the far wall, spacing themselves evenly. These were not Flex players, come to try her after all these years; they would have been children when she walked that path.

Wu stood silent, waiting. This was a challenge and it was their move to outline it. Who-?

It came to her two seconds before he arrived.

Cierto!

Sure enough, he entered behind the five. He wore his sheathed sword and tights to match the others. He nodded at her. "My gift to our son," he said, waving at the five.

She didn't understand what that meant, but she did realize that this was going to be a fight to the death, hers or theirs. She had to narrow her focus. Even so, a thought arose: where was Sleel?

They drew their weapons, five swords whispering against the scabbards as they came into view. All black blades, as was her own. Still Wu did not move.

The man nearest the door edged forward, his weapon held in one hand, aimed at her heart.

Wu took a half step to her left, to tread upon the trigger plate that started the dojo's holocam. Whatever happened to her, Sleel would see it when he returned.

The second man slid forward.

Wu watched them. Her sword snicked out unbidden. She dropped the sheath and moved it away with her foot so that it came to rest against the wall to her left.

The third and fourth opponents moved together.

The fifth one, the woman, yelled, and jumped forward

Kildee Wu leaped into the Void.

Sleel, lost in thought, felt a pang of something, a cool touch on his spine that made him break his step, almost losing his balance. What The man with the dog was behind him, moving faster than normal. That was odd; the man never finished his loop quickly enough to catch up to Sleel before. Why was he in such a hurry?

Ahead of him, a pair of men stepped out of the shadows.

They looked innocuous enough, two friends out on a late-night walk, discussing philosophy or religion, maybe, right? No weapons were visible, there was no reason to think they constituted any kind of threat, but Sleel knew, instantly and without the slightest doubt:

They meant to kill him.

He was puzzled. The man with the dog, coming up behind him in a hurry, he was in on it, too. And looky here, Sleel, there's another one across the street, just leaving the shelter of that doorway, pretending to go toward the flitter five meters ahead of you.

One of the two men on the walk in front of him made an error. Streetlight glinted from a short knife as he moved it next to his leg, trying to keep it hidden.

What the fuck? Some old enemy who had found him and decided to settle things? Sure wasn't a chance mugging, not if the dog-walker was in on it. He had been out here for months, following Sleel Never mind that. Worry about it later. Deal with it as it stands.

Despite the danger, Sleel felt a kind of relief. Somebody had been watching them. Good to know that sense still worked.

The relief faded as the quick thought behind it rushed in. What about Kee? Were they after her, too?

Jesu Christo! He had to get back to the dojo!

Cierto found that he was holding his breath. His camera was recording what he saw, as were the cameras of the five students. Later he would have the recordings cut together to make a total picture, but now, he had to enjoy the reality of it. He had waited a long time for this.

By all the gods, she was magnificent! Absolutely no fear, she was still as a vacuum, solid as the Rock of Spandle, just waiting. He would love to try her this way. But not tonight. No, this was for their son.

Rita yelled and went in for the kill.

Wu's sword snapped out-oh, so fast!-and pierced Rita's heart before the attacker could stop. Rita's face grew puzzled. What had happened? She was finished and not yet aware of it, so quickly had Death found and touched her.

Truly wonderful.

Wu spun away, holding her sword in one hand, and in the twirling of it, removed Gene's head with no more effort than a man swatting a fly. She leaped, far but low, covering the ground but not straying far from it. Dead, Gene fell. Both pieces of him.

Raz stabbed at her back, missed by no more than a hair, and looked down in sudden shock as his intestines spilled onto his feet. He looked at Cierto, eyes wide and accusing. You didn't tell us she was this good, Patron . . .

These were five of the best students he had ever trained; they were tested, honed, deadly, and she moved through them as though they were plants, rooted and immobile, harmless to her as roses standing in a garden. Yes, they had thorns, but the only way she would be pricked would be if she blundered into them.

Cierto felt a thrill akin to ecstacy.

She buried her sword in Tomas's belly, grabbed his hair and turned him, using the dying man as a shield against Winston. As Tomas fell, still blocking Winston, she shoved him clear of the blade and stood facing the last of the five.

Winston leaped.

Wu V-stepped to her left and snapped her weapon out horizontally, catching him across the throat, drawing the sword in, slicing through the neck to the spine. Winston's head yawed back, the new mouth cut under his chin spewing blood, vomiting up the stuff of his life.

With almost no pause, she turned and ran toward Cierto.

He had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. His hand went reflexively to his sword's hilt.

No! Not yet!

He managed to pull the dart pistol from his belt before she covered the floor between them, but only jest barely. He shot her three times, the electrostatic-chem flechettes hitting her on the torso and knocking her unconscious almost instantly. Even so, she slid on the mat so that the tip of her weapon almost touched his foot. Half a second slower and she would have made it.

She was awesome. Better than he had expected. What a son they would produce together! And someday, he would show the recording to his son. See what a warrior your mother was? he would say. None could defeat her except your father. I killed her when you were a baby, but you shall see that recording on another day. For now, marvel at the woman who was your mother.

Look, my son, and be proud.

Sleel didn't have time for this. Kee could take care of herself, he knew that, but he still felt fear for her.

He had to get back to the dojo, only these four were in his way.

The man crossing the street arrived first, a knife held in his hand. Stupid. They should have shot him, but no, they wanted to carve him. Sleel danced from the walk, broke the man's skull, took the knife and buried it in the attacker's back as he fell.

The dog arrived next, snarling, and for a moment Sleel wanted to laugh. But floppy ears and stubby legs or no, the thing had teeth. Sleel booted the dog, the snap kick connecting with the side of its head, knocking it sprawling.

The two now behind him came in, but he twisted and gave them Snake and Spider, breaking bones and sundering cartilage and muscle. As they tumbled, Sleel spun. The man with the dog cursed and dropped his knife, going for a projectile weapon in his jacket. Finally got smart, but too late. Sleel charged, cast Dark Shroud and dropped the man as he fired the air pistol harmlessly into the night. Sleel took the gun away from the man and shot him in the face with it. He turned and snapped off two shots at the man who had eaten the Spider strike, and spun away without waiting to see the man collapse.

It was maybe two klicks to the dojo from here, five or six minutes if he ran all the way.

He ran all the way.

Cierto would have liked to take Wu's sword, but his agents had reported that the shielded antitheft system would zap anybody trying to remove it from the building. Since the system was self-powered and hidden, it would take too long to find and disable it. It was a superb weapon, but not what he had come for. He would provide her with one of nearly equal worth when the time came.

He was not worried about the bodies this time. They carried no identification, there was no way to trace them to him, and there would be nobody to make the connection in any event. He had their swords and scabbards. Local authorities would not have a clue. The matador would be dead by now.

Carrying her slung across his shoulder, Cierto moved Wu to his flitter. When he lifted the vehicle into the night, he could not recall ever being quite so happy in all his life.

"Kee!" Sleel yelled. The door to the dojo had been shattered. He still had the air gun and he would have shot anybody that moved, only those sprawled on the mats weren't ever going to be moving on their own again. Five of them lay dead. They were unarmed.

"Kee!"

It took only a few moments to discover that he was alone.

What had happened here?

Where was Kee?

Sleel forced the rising panic down. He had been a matador for a long time. He could deal with this. Calm yourself, dammit!

The holocam. If Kee had killed these five, and surely she must have, she did it here. Had she trigged the recorder?

She had. Whoever had come in must not have known about it.

Sleel watched with amazement the recording of the fight. Lord, she had cut them down like somebody harvesting wheat Cierto. Standing there on the edge of the mats. She had gone for him-Sleel cringed as the man shot Kee. Oh, Gods-

Sleel watched as Cierto picked up the swords, removed something small from each of the bodies-what were those things?-as well as the scabbards for the weapons. Finally the man came back and lifted Kee, hoisting her over his shoulder and taking her out of sight.

She was alive. Had to be, otherwise why would he bother? The gun was some kid of stunner, nonlethal darts or pellets. She was alive.

But-Cierto had her.

Why? What was he going to do with her?

What was Sleel going to do about it?

The com chime entered his consciousness. How long had it been ringing'? Mechanically, Sleel moved to the com and waved it on.

The image of Bergamo lit the air. He saw Sleel. "Your sword is ready," he said. Then, "There is trouble, isn't there?"

Sleel felt as if he had taken a charge from a hand wand; he was stunned. "Yes. Trouble." He waved at the interior of the dojo. "Pan," he ordered the com's pickup.

On the screen, Bergamo sucked in a quick breath. He held up something in the palm of his hand. He ordered his own com pickup to zoom in on the object.

Sleel saw it but couldn't track well enough to understand what he was seeing.

"Some kind of transmitter," Bergamo said. "Vivian found it in the entranceway. We were being spied upon."

Sleel nodded dully. "They have Kee," he said.

"Stay there," Bergamo ordered. "Vivian and I will be there as soon as we can."

Sleel had been breathing deeply and trying to make sense of it all for hours when the old man and woman arrived. It still did not compute in any way he could manage. Would Cierto want revenge for the lost foot after all this time? Why else would he come here? Sleel could understand how the man might want to kill him-he had taken out some of his troops back in The Brambles-but what did he want with Kee?

"Sleek" Bergamo said. "Here."

Sleel took the sword from Bergamo.

"There is usually' a formal ceremony that goes with the presentation," Bergamo said, "but we shall skip it this time."

Sleel had no time for games; this sword was not important compared to Kee's kidnapping, and yet, the weapon felt alive in his hand, as much a part of him as his arm. Almost without thinking, he withdrew the blade from the white-lacquered wooden sheath.

It was beautiful. There were whorls and patterns in the steel, and the dojo's lights glinted from the polished black metal almost hypnotically, drawing the gaze deep within itself. Sleel had never touched anything so intrinsically . . . powerful. Gods. It felt so, so right, somehow.

He looked up at Bergamo. It must have shown in his face.

The old man nodded. "Yes," he said. "You are welcome." He glanced at the bodies. "What will you do?"

"I'm going after her."

"Of course. Vivian and I will take care of this." He waved at the corpses.

Yes, he would go after her. He would chop Cierto into pieces small enough to feed to baby thumb-birds.

He would destroy the man and everything he owned. He would tear the very planet the man lived on apart with his hands-

All by yourself? came his small inner voice.

Goddamned right-!

Sleel stared at the weapon that Kee said would be his soul. Something welled within him, some emotion that would not be denied, rising from his depths, from the murk of his insecurities like a giant bubble. It rose, and burst, and sprayed him with a feeling he could not name, and could not hold in. He sobbed, one ragged indrawn breath.

No. He had always gone it alone, asking nothing from anyone, taking care of himself. But if he went storming after her on his own, without thinking, Sleel against the galaxy as usual, he might lose her. And that's what it comes down to, doesn't it? Your pride versus Kee's life. Which is it to be, Sleel? What is really important here?

In that moment he knew that he wasn't the same as he had been. The Sleel who had fancied himself cock of the universe was gone. He wasn't sure what was going to replace the old model, but he knew he couldn't go back.