Never trust an elf s-6 Read online

  With forced politeness, Glasgian asked, "Have you made progress?" "Yes." "Well?"

  "There are still details that remain unclear." "When will we know?"

  Finally Urdli turned his eyes from the objects before him and stared up at Glasgian. The dark elfs face was all disapproval. "You are impatient."

  Glasgian bristled inwardly at his partner's insulting attitude. Urdli was his elder, but he was still just a vagabond from Australia. Glasgian Oakforest was a prince, and the son of a prince, born of a line that stretched back to the beginnings of elvenkind. The Australian, fossilized in his old ways, had no justification for showing disapproval of Glasgian. What business had a vagabond disapproving of a prince?

  "And you are old and slow," Prince Glasgian said, not hiding his indignation. "I move with due caution, makkaherinit." Again Glasgian felt stung by the insult, but this was not the time to show his anger. He forced calm on himself. He knew that Urdli was goading him, deliberately taunting him, and he was determined not to give the dark elf any satisfaction. Harnessing his will, Glasgian controlled his temper. Later, they would see, but for now he'd turn the talk to other matters. "The runners are taken care of." "You have moved against them already?" "Of course. We cannot afford for word of our involvement in this matter to get out." "Then they are all dead?"

  "No, not all. The dwarf escaped before my agents could reach him, but the others are dead. The cyber-ized norms died in street violence and the orks in a building fire. The Japanese norm, too. For some odd reason, he was with the orks at the time of the fire. I

  had thought his kind had more refined aesthetics. Do you think he was defective in some way? It was difficult to read him."

  "He was a mere norm, of little importance. Less now, if he is dead. However, if you would apply yourself to the problem at hand, we might be quicker to achieve the results you so passionately desire. Have you studied my notes?"

  "You should apply yourself o working, rather than to misguided attempts at correcting my education. Of course I have studied your notes. Didn't you receive my comments?" "No."

  "I sent a messenger." "I did not wish to be disturbed." "And / gave him orders to deliver my package to you. He will be punished." "Unnecessary."

  "That is not for you to decide. He failed to obey my orders and deserves punishment."

  Urdli smiled coldly. "You misunderstand. I do not disagree that such failure warrants punishment, young prince. I merely say that your servant need not receive it from your hands."

  "You took it upon yourself to-" "A matter of prepared defenses," Urdli said, cutting off Glasgian's rage. "By the time I realized that he was yours, it was too late. Do you desire compensation?"

  He did. Oh yes, he did, but he would not be satisfied with what the old law specified. "I will waive compensation." Until I can collect it myself, he added silently.

  Urdli seemed satisfied "I have confirmed our earlier conclusions with regard to location. The crystal was indeed placed at the key junction of the triangle of the mana lines. More importantly, the stone is active.

  Given time, we will be able to pinpoint the treasure it guards."

  Glasgian was pleased. "If we had the location now, we could strike tonight."

  "In undue haste." Urdli's expression was bland, but Glasgian could sense the sneer.

  "Timely action," Glasgian said defensively

  "You have a faulty sense of timing."

  "I only desire what you yourself desire. Is it wrong to wish to see the thing done?"

  "No. It is quite understandable, but yours is a child's reaction," Urdli said.

  "I am not a child!"

  "Consider to whom you speak, makkaherinit-ha."'

  Glasgian heard the warning in Urdli's tone and decided that he would be wise to heed it. This was not the time for a split, which, he suddenly realized, might be exactly what the Australian was trying to provoke. Urdli had needed Glasgian's resources to take the first steps, and even now profited from Glasgian's facilities to perform his researches into the crystal's secrets. Perhaps Urdli had already achieved even greater success than he was admitting and was considering sundering their partnership to claim the stone for himself. Until the secrets were pried from the stone and shared, Glasgian was at a disadvantage; Urdli's magical experience was vital to unraveling the mysteries of the crystal. If a rift occurred now and Urdli retained control of the stone, Glasgian would be cut oif forever from all that could be gained by using the crystal. That was something not to be contemplated. If their partnership must break up, it would happen only when it was to Glasgian's advantage; perhaps later, after they had shared the crystal's secrets.

  "Ozidanit makkalos, telegitish t'imiri ti'teheron," he said, adding a bow to his apology and request for forbearance in the old formal way. "Forgive me, el der. I am overcome by the necessity of what we are about. I only wish success for our gambit."

  "Then perhaps you will be willing to work for it."

  "Yes, I will work for it."

  "Then sit here in front of me." The spot Urdli indicated was spattered with the lizard's blood. Glasgian lowered himself and sat cross-legged. His suit would be ruined, but that was a small matter. Like many things, it could be replaced.

  Urdli led him into trance and he followed. For hours they worked at the stone's mysteries, picking at the knots of power and slowly unraveling them. And through it all. Glasgian studied Urdli, learning.

  Kham wandered the corridors of the subterranean district known as the Ork Underground. His tired eyes roved over the battered storefronts that had opened on the surface level in the nineteenth century, but which had been overtaken when Seattle rebuilt itself on top of them. During the previous century, the tunnels had been a tourist attraction for a time, and unfounded rumors of the extent of the underground had prompted Seattle's outcasts to seek refuge there in the bad times. Those frightened people had at first come only to hide, but many had stayed to live, digging more tunnels and making homes under the city, away from the light and the troubles. The enlarged Underground district was once again a tourist attraction-as long as the tourist was brave enough to enter a world populated almost exclusively by orks and trolls.

  Turning down a broad tunnel, Kham left the old Underground and walked through the Mall, the broadest of the ways in the new Underground. The Mall was noisy all around him as orks hawked their crafts and wares. Because it was still daylight topside, some tourists still wandered in these corridors. Come see the odd orks and their subterranean city! Quaintness beyond belief!

  He turned down a side way and the crowds grew less. Not many tourists along this route. Down here, away from the Mall, one rarely saw norms. The locals were a mix of metatypes, mostly orks and trolls, but also other metahumans who were too ugly to suit a norm's standards. Down here, the fittings were rustier, the dwellings more haphazard, but Kham felt more comfortable in these parts. He saw none of the garish murals or contorted statuary created for the gawking tourists. The shops catered to basic needs; they didn't bother with the trashy carvings, cheap trinkets, and brightly colored souvenirs that were the stock of the Mall's stores. It was just a neighborhood down here- always nightwise, dank, and smelly, but just a neighborhood. An ork neighborhood.

  That was a small comfort. Rabo and The Weeze might be right that the Underground was a good place to hide, but Kham didn't like the idea. It was too full of old memories. The safety it offered outweighed that, however, and so he had agreed with the logic of bringing his family and the other survivors here, where there were more orks than anywhere else in the plex. Among thousands of orks they would be harder to find. Still, Kham wished that they didn't have to hide here. Some place-any place-else would have been better. So why couldn't he think of a safer place?

  Until he did, this was where they would stay until the heat was off, until enough time had passed for whatever the elves were doing to be done. Normally, time was a disadvantage to a shadowrunner, always running out when you needed more. Now time was on Kham's side. As
it passed, so too would pass the importance of silencing him and the others. Given enough time, the elves wouldn't care about them anymore.

  Underground or not, none of it would have meant a thing had Neko not arranged it all with Cog. Kham didn't know how the fixer had managed to pull it off, and Kham didn't really want to know. Cog had succeeded in faking their deaths, but the fix had some unwanted side effects. The vids had picked up the story of the fire in the Barrens. Normally the media didn't give a frag about orks. After all, what was a bit of violence in the Barrens but filler news on a slow night? Somehow, though, the reporter snoops had learned that the bones of a young norm-one who didn't seem to belong to.either faction involved in the violence-had been found in the rubble. Their stories were full of unpleasant speculation about strange ork practices, and it wasn't long before Humanis policlubbers-probably real ones this time-were voicing charges of torture and cannibalism against the orks.

  In the Underground that kind of news was received with the derision it deserved. Sure, orks had an attitude toward norms: everybody who had to take the drek norms dished out to orks had an attitude about them. Sure, orks sometimes had some fun with a norm too stupid to stay where he belonged: those norms got what they deserved for trespassing. That was the kind of stuff that happened, the way life worked. Certainly, it was the way life worked down here. Down here, norm metatypes weren't wanted, and intrusions were often met with violence. But it was normal, honest violence. Nobody ever ate anyone. That was for beasts, and orks were people, even if Humanis policlubbers and their ilk didn't believe it. Stupid norms.

  Kham hoped that the elves-all of them and not just the badboy elf-were going to be stupid too, hoped they'd buy Cog's make-believe, but he doubted it. That's why Kham had brought the crew down here. If they weren't safe here, they wouldn't be safe anywhere. He had to believe everything was going to work out all right.

  Still, for all its wisdom, hiding didn't feel right. Maybe it was just some kind of left-over gang reflex. Maybe it wasn't. Shadowrunners knew the risks, and they took them anyway, but families were supposed to be left out of it. This badguy elf had taken the shadow business and brought it into Kham's personal life. That wasn't the way things were done. Kham wanted to bust the elf's head and let some light into that dark, twisted mind, but taking any action against that elf, whoever he was, meant working the shadows. Sure, he had an advantage-assuming the elf bought Cog's fix-but once Kham and the guys started running, sooner or later somebody would twig to the fact that they weren't dead, and the fragging elf would know. That elf had already proved how dangerous he was; he might hit the families again. Down here, the families were safe. Maybe later, when everything had quieted down, he'd look into things. Maybe then he'd see what he could do to teach the elf the rules.

  Hearing a familiar beat of footfalls accompanied by a jingle from behind him, Kham turned to see Rat-stomper pounding down the way. She was flushed and out of breath but managed a shout when she saw him turn toward her. For an ork, she was in lousy shape. "Catboy's bought himself trouble," she gasped out. That wasn't surprising. "Why ya telling me?" "Said we wuz supposed to watch out for him." That was surprising, since Ratstomper didn't like the little Jap much. Her coming to Kham meant she

  was paying attention to biz, and the team. Maybe there was hope for her. "Topsiders?"

  "Scuzboys. Green Band."

  "Show me where," Kham ordered, giving her a shove to get her moving even after she'd started to turn. The scuzboys of the Green Band were among the tougher gang types in the Underground. They had connections with the power that ruled what passed for the Underground's government, and they took their connections as license to'do what they pleased. If Neko had crossed them, he might be down one of his nine lives before anybody, Kham included, could help him.

  ***

  Kham took the corner and found a trio of scuzboys trussing up a limp Neko. Two orks lay bleeding on the pavement,, attesting to the catboy's struggle. If they were seriously hurt, Neko was in real trouble. The Green Band didn't take kindly to anybody hurting their members; they took revenge, usually in the form of body parts.

  "Yo, Adam. Got company," one of the scuzboys said to the big one, who was likely their warlord.

  None of the boys looked happy at being interrupted. They dropped Neko, who groaned when he hit the ground. At least he was alive. On second thought, Kham wasn't sure that was such a good thing. There were three of these scuzboys, and Adam, the biggest, was almost his own size. All Kham had for back-up was Ratstomper. Some back-up. Kham waved Ratstomper forward and wide to the left. She might at least distract one of them.

  The scuzboys spread out, too, facing Ratstomper with their smallest. They weren't as stupid as Kham had hoped. The alley was tight, leaving little room to maneuver. The scuzboys hadn't drawn blades, but one of them was swinging a chain. Their turf, their rules: this was going to be head-butting only, no stickers and no guns. Kham dipped his hands into his pockets and slipped on his knucks. The scuzboys might be adolescents, but he was facing at least two of them and would need the edge.

  The stalking stopped when a hunched shape scuttled from the darkness, whirling and rattling into the open space between the combatants. The newcomer had the tusks and mismatched eyes of an ork, but she was short and slim. Her tattered garments were festooned with rags, bits of bone, and shiny objects dangling from tassels and thongs. Silvered rat skulls hung from her belt and swung in layers of necklaces around her scrawny neck Her streaky, snarly gray hair nearly hid her face when she swirled to a stop, her arms outflung in a dramatic pose.

  "Scatter!" Ratstomper squealed as she dropped to her knees "I didn't know these were your boys. If I had, I wouldn't have said anything! Honest! Don't blast me!"

  The rat shaman ignored Ratstomper's plea and moved past her. Scatter seemed to skitter as she moved, deceptively fast, and planted herself in front of Kham. Before he could react, her head jutted up into his face and her beady eyes stared into his.

  "So you're Kham." It was not a question. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't go home again?" "Haven't gone home."

  Scatter laughed, a squealing, chittenng sound. "I know that. But now you're thinking you might. I know you are. You're thinking you'll have to because of your unusual"- the rat shaman tittered the word- "attachment to this breeder." She scurried over to Neko and reached out a hand to stroke the cheek of the bound catboy, but his fierce glare froze her Slowly she withdrew her hand. She snapped her head around, her lips curling up into a toothy smile as she said to Kham, "Perhaps you were in a rush to join the others. Breeders need to learn their place. Oh, yes. Perhaps you're here to help, like a good ork."

  Kham found her babbling unsettling, but he couldn't afford to let it show. The scuzboys were staring at her like she was their mama, and he noticed that each of them wore a silvered rat skull on a chain around his neck. They were hers, all right. Kham tried to be cool. "Don't know what you're talking about. I heard a chummer was having some trouble."

  "You say he's your chummer, you the one gonna have some trouble," Adam said. "We give you the same treatment we gonna give him. But we gonna let you watch what we do to him so you'll know what we gonna do to you."

  The scuzboy started forward and Kham dropped into a ready stance. Scatter slipped back between them and the scuzboy jerked back. Kham thought he saw a flicker of fear in the scuzboy's eyes when he looked at the rat shaman.

  "No," Scatter said. "This is not a gutter matter. Take the breeder down to City Hall."

  "Aw, no!" Adam protested. "He hurt Cholly and Akira!"

  Scatter straightened, drawing herself to her full diminutive stature. Her hunched-forward head didn't turn. Though she continued to stare at Kham, there was no doubt she addressed the scuzboy. "A complaint. I thought I heard a complaint."

  "No, Scatter," the scuzboy said quickly. "I ain't complaining. We'll do like you say. Right, guys?"

  His companions nodded in agreement, and the scuzboys backed away a few steps befo
re turning and hurrying to the now-struggling catboy. The smallest scuzboy lifted a paw to cuff Neko into submission, but was forestalled by a shrill cry from the rat shaman. "And no more damage to him!"

  Kham saw Neko smile before planting a kick into the midriff of the one who had been about to cuff him. The ork yelped.

  "Unless he resists," Scatter added.

  Neko stopped resisting and submitted to being roughly helped to his feet. Wise, Kham thought as they led the catboy away. Scatter tugging on his arm, Kham followed. Ratstomper was nowhere to be seen.

  ***

  The series of chambers called "city hall" was hardly what a topsider would recognize as government offices, but in the Underground they served. The reinforced walls and occasional weapon emplacement made it look like an armed camp. Knots of heavily armed orks congregated here and there, staring openly at the small procession, but the only time the ragtag parade was stopped was before a pair of large, iron-bound doors. The squad of trolls stationed there were obviously familiar with Scatter and the scuzboys, but they showed the shaman none of the deference the orks did. She almost lost her temper before they agreed to let her pass alone. It was only a few minutes before she returned and led the procession into a huge chamber lit poorly by scattered fixtures. At the far end of the room was a stepped platform, surmounted by a large chair that rose like a king's throne.