Wicked Bronze Ambition

60

We took the steps in stages. I was uncomfortable leaving our four-legged associates unsupervised. Horses can be counted on to do whatever is evilest, while dogs are easily influenced by those who are dedicated to doing evil-although, honestly, I was more concerned about rustling than I was about critter misbehavior.

I wasn’t sure why.

Tara Chayne was probably right when she insisted that our Civil Guard shadows would take care of any problems. They needed us as stalking horses.

They might even defend the dogs against the sort of refugee retards who thought pups belonged in the communal pot.

We ran into an old priest coming out of the cathedral, long, lean, and tired looking. He would have gone to the old priests’ home by now if there were any young blood taking the cassock. The lack was surprising considering the state of the economy.

Most of the traffic consisted of religious personnel. It was the middle of a workday in the middle of a week. Honest parishioners ought to be occupied elsewhere-unless somehow involved in preparations for the upcoming holy days, Day of the Dead and All Hallows’.

This old boy had one foot in the next world and was thinking on the wonders ahead. He nearly jumped out of his frock when Tara Chayne asked, “Father, can you help us?”

Rheumy gray eyes focused. His gaze darted, assessing us instantly and possibly too accurately.

He opined, “I suspect that I don’t have enough time left. I do have an assignment. But helping is the mission that God has given me, so I must do what I can.” Meaning he would go through the motions, though he would be wasting time on spiritual deadbeats.

Old people can be scary the way they read you, and this one was old even to Tara Chayne Machtkess, who said, “We’re looking for my father’s cousin, Brooklin Urp. Which was his name before he took orders. My father is dying. He had a big fight with his cousin when they were young. I don’t know what they fought about. A girl, probably. I just care about getting it all settled so there aren’t any problems with the probate.”

She lied smoothly, with conviction, sounding like a complete weasel, which I noted and would not forget.

Unskilled liars focus on details and try to put a shine on their own part in whatever they’re trying to pull together.

The priest said, “I don’t know a Brooklin Urp, madame. I’ve been at Chattaree forty-nine years.” And now began to show more interest in me than she. Frowning. “I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m no regular but I do come to services.” The absolute truth. Only God Himself could fault me.

I didn’t remember him, but that didn’t mean we hadn’t collided at some point. My most recent visit to Chattaree had been full of excitement and had taken place under cover of darkness.

Tara Chayne pulled it back to her. “He changed his name after he turned into a priest.” Which was not unusual. New priests often want to break with their pasts. “Dad says he should be easy to find because he has this big thing on his head, over his eye.” She touched her hairline, indicating the wrong side.

“Bezma? I didn’t think. .” He shut up. His face shut down. “That doesn’t sound like anyone here. I’m sorry. Now I do have to get on along to my shut-ins.”

We let him go. He had given us something. And I could pick him out of a gaggle of old priests if I had to drag him off for tea with the Dead Man.

Tara Chayne said, “Bezma must be important.”

“Maybe scary some, too.”

“We maybe ought to look into that. Why scary, I mean. He didn’t scare me.”

“But you’re you.”

She agreed. “There is that.”

I grunted, said, “I guarantee, some of the people here, back in the shadows, are very scary. Was there a connection between the tournaments and the Church before?”

“Not obviously. But we never got the angle on the Operators. The ones we saw were dead. Those who weren’t dead made the bodies disappear before we could use them or identify them.”

Shadowslinger, I recalled, had been accused of being a necromancer. Of course, there was little that hadn’t been laid on her at some point.

Might the Operators not have a last-man-standing game of their own going?