Shadows Linger: A Novel of the Black Company (Chronicles of The Black Company) by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

went grey. “He’s got a buyer for the Lily lined up. They’re rounding up girls already.”
    Shed nodded. The whoremasters recruited desperate women this time of year. By the time summer brought its sailors, they were broken to their trade.
    “The bastard. Made me think he’d given me a break. I should have known better. This way he gets my money and my place. The bastard.”
    “Well, I warned you.”
    “Yeah. Thanks, Asa.”
    Shed’s next due date came on like a juggernaut. Gilbert refused him another loan. Smaller creditors besieged the Lily. Krage was aiming them Shed’s way.
    He took Raven a complimentary drink. “May I sit?”
    A hint of a smile crossed Raven’s lips. “It’s your place.” And: “You haven’t been friendly lately, Shed.”
    “I’m nervous,” Shed lied. Raven irritated his conscience. “Worried about my debts.”
    Raven saw through the excuse. “You thought maybe I could help?”
    Shed almost groaned. “Yes.”
    Raven laughed softly. Shed thought he detected a note of triumph. “All right, Shed. Tonight?”
    Shed pictured his mother being carted off by the Custodians. He swallowed his self-disgust. “Yeah.”
    “All right. But this time you’re a helper, not a partner.” Shed swallowed and nodded. “Put the old woman to bed, then come back downstairs. Understand?”
    “Yes,” Shed whispered.
    “Good. Now go away. You irritate me.”
    “Yes, sir.” Shed retreated. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye the rest of that day.
    *   *   *
    A bitter wind howled down the Port valley, freckled with flakes of snow. Shed huddled miserably, the wagon seat a bar of ice beneath him. The weather was worsening. “Why tonight?” he grumbled.
    “Best time.” Raven’s teeth chattered. “We’re not likely to be seen.” He turned into Chandler’s Lane, off which innumerable narrow alleyways ran. “Good hunting territory here. In this weather they crawl back in the alleys and die like flies.”
    Shed shivered. He was too old for this. But that was why he was here. So he wouldn’t have to face the weather every night.
    Raven stopped the wagon. “Check that passageway.”
    Shed’s feet started aching the instant he put weight on them. Good. At least he felt something. They weren’t frozen.
    There was little light in the alley. He searched more by feel than sight. He found one lump under an overhang, but it stirred and muttered. He ran.
    He reached the wagon as Raven dumped something into the bed. Shed averted his eyes. The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve. Raven concealed the body with straw. “That’s one. Night like this, we ought to find a load.”
    Shed choked his protests, resumed his seat. He thought about his mother. She wouldn’t last one night in this.
    Next alley he found his first corpse. The old man had fallen and frozen because he couldn’t get up again. Aching in his soul, Shed dragged the body to the wagon.
    “Going to be a good night,” Raven observed. “No competition. The Custodians won’t come out in this.” Softly: “I hope we can make the hill.”
    Later, after they had moved to the waterfront and each had found another corpse, Shed asked, “Why’re you doing this?”
    “I need money, too. Got a long way to travel. This way I get a lot, fast, without much risk.”
    Shed thought the risks far greater than Raven would admit. They could be torn apart. “You’re not from Juniper, are you?”
    “From the south. A shipwrecked sailor.”
    Shed did not believe it. Raven’s accent was not at all right for that, mild though it was. He hadn’t the nerve to call the man a liar, though, and press for the truth.
    The conversation continued by fits and starts. Shed didn’t uncover anything more of Raven’s background or motives.
    “Go that way,” Raven told him. “I’ll check over here. Last stop, Shed. I’m done in.”
    Shed nodded. He wanted to get the night over. To his disgust, he had begun seeing the street people as objects, and he