Bounty (13 page)

Mastodon was also very taken with the idea of traveling the Ruins on top of the walls. It intrigued her to no end, and she actually smiled at him, in a wickedly appreciative sort of way – happy with her investment again, no doubt.

Granted enthusiastic permission, Godren got right on constructing the minor deviations that were necessary to make the walls navigable from the top. He didn’t bother making anything fancy – just strung a few rope ladders in the shadowed backdrops where some of the connecting walls overlapped, and threw a few crude scraps of sturdy wood across the gaps between walls where it made the most sense to secure bridges. Though he felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of horses by the end of his disciplined dedication to the relentless work, the job was done swiftly and well. Healing was something he’d have to do on his own time.

“
Feeling alright?” Seth asked him as the project came to an end.

“
What kind of a question is that?”

“
Well, feeling alive anyway?”

“
And wishing I wasn’t, but yes.”

“
You know, I really hate to say this,” Seth cringed, “but Ossen’s right for once. You look like hell.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Just being honest, Ren. That’s what friends do.”

“
You just directly called Ossen my friend.”

Seth frowned in realization. “How come he gets to throw around offenses by being perfectly, angelically honest, but if you try to return the favor and counter them they come out as ‘you look like an angel, Ossen; you smell so sweetly, Ossen; you’re jolly, bloody, pretty-smelling the cursed image of utter perfection tonight and every other night, Ossen’? It’s not fair.”

“
Some people have natural grace, Seth. Perfect by nature. And then some of us are naturally, hopelessly flawed in the pall of their statuesque shadows.”

“
I detect a frightful imbalance.”

“
Try to look on the bright side.”

“
There is no bright side. We are immersed in the very essence of one big dark side, Ren, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“
Then try a new perspective. Just think – one scratch is all it would take to ruin him. That’s the thing about perfection; it is entirely, wonderfully too easy to mar.”

“
Then why are we sitting here leaving him to his perfect face? What are we waiting for?”

“
One scratch is all it would take to ruin him, Seth, but that’s all it would take to provoke him, too.”

“
Drat. Of course. And you’re in no shape to skirmish.”

“
I wasn’t in any shape to remodel a whole sector of ruins, either, but I managed that just fine.”

“
Are you suggesting we go scratch him after all?”

“
Perhaps I am.”

Seth started to grin, delighted, but reversed the gesticulation just as quickly. “But you don’t mean it, do you?” he asked knowingly, disheartened.

Godren let out his breath. “Unfortunately…not quite. But you’re always welcome to get at him yourself, since you do anyway. I’d rather bide my time.”

“
I hate time.”

“
I
hate pain,” Godren put in his aversion, getting comfortable.

“
I hate pain
and
time.”

“
I hate pain and time together.”

“
I hate...melons.”

“
I hate cold baths.”

“
I hate mocking birds.”

“
I hate bugs.”

“
I hate weeds. And cold toes.”

“
I hate the relentless rain that grows the weeds and the unwelcome holes in the socks that inspire the cold toes.”

“
You know what I hate?”

“
What do you hate, Seth?”

“
Roses. More than anything else, I hate roses.”

13:
D
amiou
s

T
he traps had no immediate success. Adaptation to mounting the walls for travel, however, was taken up quite enthusiastically. Even Ossen showed his immense pleasure at the method of surveillance, though he would never admit Godren had been the source. He ignored that fact and embraced the thrill of spying from the ledges, making himself right at home where he could look down on the rest of the world.

Godren posted his sketch along one of the main passages of the Underworld so his allies could familiarize themselves with the layout of additions to the Ruins. He memorized it himself very quickly; having designed it, the details were easy to learn, originally having been his own ideas.

That done, Godren made a bold move and assigned everyone shifts, taking authority and daring to see how it turned out. Ossen showed clear resentment for it, Bastin appeared to disapprove but made things easy by not voicing anything at all, Kane stared a little mordantly and spat, and Seth accepted the assignment wearily – but no one complained, and Godren sighed mentally in relief. Outwardly, he was all business and indifference.

During his first shift, he carried a gun up the wall and walked across the midnight lengths of old stone, the weapon relaxed but ready in his grip, but his stride more relaxed than anything. Oddly, instead of feeling exposed and unsteady making his way across the dark ledges, he felt contrastingly elated and free. The air seemed fresher up here, less smothered – cleaner. And the danger of falling seemed so much less relevant than the threat of rounding a turn and haplessly coming to confront his archenemy on the other side. In addition, not only did he have a superior view of the Ruined grounds, but he could see the sky so much better from up here as well. How starved he had been of the sky lately. Before his shift was half over, he found himself trailing aimlessly with his distracted eyes cast wistfully skyward, trying to see to the depths of forever to make up for being stunted in the recent art of wishful stargazing.

It became a habit, using his shift as an excuse to get away from the smothering underground kingdom and lay beneath eternity, breathing in the sky and forgetting the gun in his hands. Disregarding his duty, he would settle onto his back and face freedom, perched on a slight ledge that saw everything else fall away and left him breathlessly suspended at the edge of the open sky.

He only came down because, eventually, he realized someone would come looking if he didn’t occasionally report back or check in with his allies, but as far as he was concerned he could live up there on the walls. More often than not, he abandoned the courtyard and slept willingly on a ledge instead, discovering he would rather have his life endangered than live his life smothered and stunted.

When he did return to the Underworld, there was news. Bastin was before Mastodon, standing with grim conviction though it didn’t reach his face, and Godren kept his mouth shut as he joined them, wanting to see what was abroad.

“
I know that look, Bastin,” Mastodon was saying. “Too many times has it preceded something I dread. You might as well spit it out.”

Bastin shrugged his eyebrows. “There’s not much dancing around it anyway,” he admitted. “And there’s really only one way to say it.”

“
Well?”

“
Damious is in town.”

To that, Mastodon did not precisely react. Finally, after a completely blank, rather lengthy stare, she spoke – but she still didn’t blink. “How do you know?”

“
I saw him, when I was inquiring around for you at the
Dark Angel
. He was drinking in the corner.”

“
Did he see you?”

“
He grinned at me.”

“
I see.”

Godren lowered himself into his usual chair, watching the two of them for more information.

“
Well this can lead to no good,” Mastodon finally remarked.

“
Indeed, Mastress. My thoughts exactly,” Bastin agreed.

“
Did you linger once he spotted you?”

“
I left the instant I became aware of his presence.”

“
Very good. Did you have time to learn anything, then?”

“
There is a new figure gracing the dark streets of the city who goes loudly by ‘Wolf’. That in itself isn’t entirely conclusive, but he could easily be our loose wolf tamer.”

“
Is that all?”

“
That’s all.”

“
Who’s Damious?” Godren put in at last, not picking up on anything further.

Bastin cast him a wary, warning look, but Godren ignored it and turned his eyes questioningly to Mastodon, obstinately wanting an answer.

“
He’s an assassin,” Mastodon replied, “whom I courted in my younger days.”

The word ‘assassin’ in place of a more expected term such as ‘bounty hunter’ drew a raised eyebrow from Godren.

“
We met abroad when I was somewhere near your age, and were taken with each other for a great length of time, until he gave up his professional expertise for the cruder life of a bounty hunter and I kicked him out in fear that my value as a criminal would tempt him more than my companionship.”

Godren absorbed that and considered what Damious’s presence could mean. “Is he a threat, then?”

“
You tell me, Godren. If anyone knows my secrets, who would it be?”

“
A lover.”

“
Exactly. Of course, I was never stupid enough to tell him all of them, but he knows more than anyone else. And he knows I’m here and knows I don’t tolerate other infamous figures hanging about my city unchecked. And since I have it on good authority we never want to see one another again, he could only dare be here for one reason.”

“
He’s after you,” Godren finished knowingly. “For revenge?”

“
Or simply the thrilling irony of it. Damious always had a thing for irony.”

Propping his elbow on the arm of the chair, Godren stroked his chin in thought. “What do we do?”

Mastodon shrugged an eyebrow wryly. “Wait, I imagine. He has a thing for drama, too, and I’m sure he’ll make a dramatic entrance sometime rather soon. The only thing we can do is keep an eye out for him. Rest assured, you’ll know him when you see him.”

Godren was sure she was right, but he didn’t feel any better for it. In fact, he felt a bit uneasy about being limited to sitting idly around expecting an unwelcome guest. A
dangerous
guest, whom Mastodon did not seem confident about holding at bay. If she couldn’t hope to prevent him from reaching them, that left only physical prevention once he was here. Would Godren finally have to step in and defend Mastodon herself, rather than merely protecting her domain? He began to consider actually throwing his life in front of her if she needed it, and the thought made him grimly restless.

“
I’ll double the guard,” he announced, wanting to do something.

“
Suit yourself.”

“
You would just let him come?”

“
I would rather not waste any effort. Better to save it, for when he’s here.”

“
Is he really that inevitable, my lady?”

“
He was a professional assassin. Not only does he know every trick in the book, but he’s naturally clever and resourceful, and has no trouble twisting tricks into new phenomena that
aren’t
in any books. It’s pointless to bother putting more scouts on the walls to keep their eyes on the alleys – Damious will probably come
in
on the walls.”

“
How soon do you expect he’ll arrive?”

“
Imminently. He doesn’t waste time. Today? Tomorrow?”

Godren rose, and headed out without a word. Whether Mastodon was putting faith in precautions or not, he would rather do everything he could to avoid coming to the climax where he jumped in front of a blade and gave his life for hers, inevitably spilling his blood all over her carpet after all.

He found Seth without trouble, and gave him the heads up. “Mastodon’s expecting trouble. An old acquaintance of hers is in town, and she’s saying that he’ll come for her and there’s no deterring him. She expects him to gain entrance, and claims there’s no point trying to prevent it, but security is my call. I want the alleys watched. And the walls. Where’s Ossen?”

“
Haven’t seen him.”

“
Who’s shift is it to be on the walls?”

Seth raised an eyebrow at the question.

“
I lost track of time,” Godren explained.

“
Kane’s, but Bastin had to report to Mastodon before replacing him at the entrance.”

“
So there’s no one out there?”

“
Unless you want to count on Ossen going above and beyond and volunteering more of the services you so spitefully had the authority to assign him in the first place.”

Godren turned away in the same manner he’d left Mastodon’s study, in no mood to respond.

“
You want me out there?” Seth asked.

“
In addition to whoever is on watch,” Godren confirmed without turning his head to cast the words over his shoulder. With that, he went to ascend to ground level. At the entrance to the Underworld, he found Bastin settling down to free Kane.