Echo in Emerald Read online

  I tripped through the heavy ground cover, paused to make sure I was aligned with the sundial, and poked my fingers through the ivy on the wall again. Instantly I could feel the break in the integrity of the fence as it wobbled under the pressure of my hand. I pushed harder, and a narrow door opened in the greenery. It only swung out about two feet, but I figured that would be wide enough even for a big man to squeeze through, if he was desperate.

  It was certainly wide enough for me. I slipped through, wrestled the gate almost entirely back in place, and tore a rip in the ivy curtain so I’d be able to find the spot again. Then I hiked quickly around the outside of the wall, back toward the formal entrance.

  I could feel the absence of the echoes tugging at me with every step I took. It was as if we were connected by long, thin, springy bands that had a certain amount of give; I had a sense that if I got too far away, those bands would abruptly tighten and practically yank me back to that hidden door in the garden wall. I just had to hope my sortie didn’t take me quite that distance away.

  As I passed the grand entrance, I glanced quickly at the soldiers posted by the gates. They would undoubtedly spring into action if they saw a Pandrean lord fall under attack, so whoever was lying in wait for Lord Dezmen would be stationed out of their line of sight. Still, the attackers would have to be close enough to keep the entrance in view so they could fall in step behind the noble and follow him to a less visible spot.

  There weren’t that many places a couple of ruffians could loiter near the entrance without drawing attention. To my left was a small stand of vendors selling food and beer to tired tourists; to my right was a squat structure, about head high, that might be a water reservoir. Would-be attackers could be lurking behind either. But my first guess was a tiny city park straight ahead of the entrance, featuring a patch of greenery, a simple fountain, and four benches. As I headed that way, striding along as if I was on an important errand, I could see that two of the benches were occupied. One of them held three woman and four squirming children; they seemed unlikely agents of violence.

  Two men slouched on the other bench, facing away from each other as if they were strangers who had just happened to take seats there at the same time. From what I could see from the corner of my eye, both were big and predictably burly; both wore oversized coats designed to hide any number of weapons. They exuded an air of indefinable menace, and I wasn’t surprised to see the three women gathering their things as they prepared to make a hasty exit.

  I’d only gone a few yards past the park when I stopped suddenly, threw my hands in the air, and reversed course as if I’d just remembered something I’d forgotten to bring with me. I took one more quick glance at the two men on the bench, wondering if I might recognize them. One looked vaguely familiar, and I thought he might be JoJo’s brother, Trout, but I couldn’t be certain.

  Still. If I’d had to put money down, I’d have bet that these were the men hired to assault Lord Dezmen. That was all I really needed to know.

  I made my way briskly back around the garden fence, feeling my heart lighten with every step that brought me closer to my echoes. My small disturbances in the fall of ivy made it easy for me to locate the door again, and I was quickly back on the other side of the wall. Scar and Red were just as I’d left them, apparently undisturbed. I reset the door, smoothed down the heart-shaped leaves, and stepped onto the path. Scar and Red were on their feet and following me as I made my way back toward the middle section of the garden. Time to get in place and wait for Lord Dezmen’s arrival.

  The bronze statue of King Edwin was about dead center in the garden. It was taller than life size and mounted on a marble block, so you had to gaze up at it in humble adoration. It was set at one of the short ends of a long reflecting pool that was ringed with a varying border of shrubs. The shrubs had apparently been chosen based on when they came into flower, from the earliest bloomers to the latest, because there was almost always some kind of color to be had in that shrine to the nation’s first king. Today, every third bush sported a few scarlet roses shivering in the chilly air. I wanted to pluck one and tuck it in Red’s hair, but I was pretty sure visitors were supposed to leave the flowers alone.

  We made one circle around the pool, looking for resting spots. I left Red sitting on a slatted wooden bench situated in front of what might be an herb garden in better weather. Scar skulked in the shadow of a gazebo on the other side of the pool. I found my own waiting spot, just behind a massive metal armillary sphere. I could see right through its collection of arrows and rings to the base of King Edwin’s statue. I settled in to wait.

  Probably another fifteen minutes passed before we saw any action. But then—finally—I spotted three men striding purposefully toward the sculpture. Or, no. Not three men. One man and two echoes. I peered around one curved surface of the sphere to get a better look.

  The man was somewhat over medium height and dressed in expensive, fashionable clothing and polished leather boots. From this distance, I could make out his dark skin tone and closely curled black hair, though not the color of his eyes. He came to a halt precisely at the base of the statue, glanced up once at the king’s aristocratic face, and then fell into a pose that I could only describe as relaxed waiting—his feet slightly apart, his hands folded behind his back, his demeanor one of infinite patience.

  Behind him, side by side, his two identical echoes took identical stances. They were all in profile to me, so I couldn’t make out the expressions on their faces, but I had to suppose those all matched as well. When Lord Dezmen casually turned his head, following the flight of a questing bird, they mimicked the motion exactly. When he dropped his gaze to study the shine on his boots, they engaged in similar contemplation. It was eerie and mesmerizing to watch.

  They had been standing there maybe five minutes, and I had been staring at them the whole time, when they were approached by a much less sophisticated-looking figure. It wasn’t a man I recognized, though I knew the type—thin and edgy, surviving primarily on luck and nerves. I tried to commit his features to memory so I could describe him to Jackal.

  Whoever he was, he didn’t bring the information Dezmen had hoped for because their conversation was brief and the lord shook his head repeatedly in disagreement or disappointment. But some part of the encounter went as planned because the noble handed over a sum of money, and the other man didn’t bother to protest. A few more words, and then the local man slunk off, melting away as if he had never been there.

  Dezmen took a moment to frown at the reflecting pool as if considering what he’d learned and not liking his conclusions. Then he straightened his shoulders and spun smartly on one heel to head for the exit. His echoes followed.

  I was already on the move, and I intercepted him before he’d taken ten steps. He pulled up sharply, his echoes similarly reeling back, and I offered him what I hoped was a disarming smile.

  “Lord Dezmen,” I said. “Good afternoon.”

  This close up I could see that his eyes were light brown, almost the shade of amber, a decidedly attractive effect against the deeper color of his skin. He didn’t seem disconcerted that I’d called him by name. Rather, his face took on an expression of intense curiosity, and he looked me over with great interest.

  “That’s right. Who are you?”

  “My name’s Chessie. I have information for you.”

  For a moment, I thought he might laugh. “You do? And what will it cost me?”

  “I’ve been paid in advance. By someone who has your interests at heart.”

  That was definitely a smile on his face. “I didn’t know there was anyone like that in the whole city of Camarria.”

  For some reason, his amusement annoyed me, though I tried to speak in a dispassionate tone. “It’s true even so. It seems that someone doesn’t like your investigation, and as soon as you leave the gardens, you’re going to be attacked. My role is simply to warn you to be careful.”

  He raised his fine eyebrows. “Who wants t
o assault me? Who wants to protect me?”

  “As for the attacks, just rumors. As for the protection—” I shrugged. “Someone who has a grudge against the person who might hurt you.”

  He was smiling again. “This is all very murky.”

  “That tends to be the way of information you get from Sweetwater. I’m sure your last informant wasn’t very forthcoming, either.”

  That made his bright eyes brighten even more as he scanned my face. “Ah. So you’ve been spying on me.”

  I was annoyed again. “Just for the past few minutes. Just while I waited for a chance to talk to you.”

  He waved vaguely in the direction of the main gates. His echoes repeated the gesture. “So if someone is planted at the entrance, waiting to attack me, how would you suggest I leave here safely?”

  “I can show you a different way out of the gardens.”

  “A different way out! Of course! Because that’s where your men are stationed to kill me.”

  “Goddess have mercy on my soul,” I muttered. I took a deep breath and once again made a special effort to speak in a neutral tone. “I’m just here to warn you that someone in the city doesn’t like your investigation. If I were you, I would watch my back—or start going around with a hired guard within call.” I indicated his echoes. “I don’t think they will do much to defend you if someone tries to cut your throat.”

  “No, they’re not very effective fighters,” he agreed. “But the advice about a personal guard is very good. What makes you think I haven’t already secured one?”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You have?”

  “Well, no, not yet. But now maybe I’ll have to. Is there anyone you’d recommend? You seem to know all kinds of interesting people.”

  I felt fresh irritation well up, and again I strangled it. “I don’t know anyone who does that kind of work, but Jackal could probably give you a few names.”

  “‘Jackal’? You’re seriously suggesting I turn for help to someone named Jackal? This encounter is becoming more entertaining by the minute.”

  I was ready to just stalk off and leave him to his fate, but introducing Jackal’s name to the conversation reminded me of what the man had said just last night. If he turns up dead, I’m sure I’ll hear about it. None of Jackal’s fondness for Red would keep him from blaming Chessie if something terrible happened to Lord Dezmen. I tried to gather the shreds of my patience. “I can see you don’t believe me. I can see you think I’m the one who wants to put you in harm’s way. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m serious, that you’re at risk, and that I’m not the one who might harm you.”

  “You could start by being a little more forthcoming. Who are you?”

  “I’m just a messenger. People hire me to carry information and goods across the city.”

  “So who hired you to warn me to be careful?”

  “Jackal.”

  “And who is he exactly?”

  “Someone who trades in information. Everyone in the Sweetwater district knows him. Everybody trusts him—until they’ve crossed him. And I already told you why Jackal wanted to warn you. He doesn’t like the person who wants to harm you. It’s no more complicated than that.”

  “It’s so much more complicated than you seem to realize,” Dezmen said. For the first time since I’d greeted him, he actually sounded serious. He appeared to be thinking something over. “Do you think he’d have information for me? This Jackal? If I asked him some very specific questions? And paid him, of course.”

  “He might. Though as far as I know, he has no idea who killed that lord two weeks ago.”

  Dezmen smiled again, but this time he didn’t seem so amused. “Ah. But he does know exactly what crime I’m investigating.”

  I let a shrug be my answer.

  “Maybe he’ll know something else that would be useful to me.”

  “Well, if Jackal doesn’t have the answers, he’ll know someone who does.”

  “Then will you take me to meet him?”

  I hesitated a moment, but it didn’t take much thought to realize Jackal would probably love to meet the Pandrean man. A new source of information! Jackal would be as eager as a cat in a cow barn. Still, I couldn’t just lead Dezmen down to the Packrat without providing some advance warning. “I’ll ask him if he’s willing to meet you. On some neutral ground. When’s good for you?”

  He spread his hands; so did the echoes. “I have no other occupation, so I am free whenever he is.”

  “I’ll talk to him as soon as I can. How can I reach you to let you know what he says?”

  “Do you know where Amanda Plaza is?”

  “Everybody knows where Amanda Plaza is. It’s the most famous place in the city.” I left the you idiot unspoken, but he obviously heard it because he actually laughed.

  “All right, then meet me there tomorrow morning by the statue of the goddesses, and you can tell me what Jackal says.”

  “How about the day after tomorrow? I might not be able to track him down today.”

  “Of course. Someone named Jackal would necessarily be elusive. The day after tomorrow.”

  I glared at him. It was getting harder to keep my irritation in check. “Of course, you might not be around to meet me if you don’t take my advice today and slip out a back exit. Where I do not have men stationed to murder you.”

  He smiled again. “No, I am starting to realize you—” Abruptly his smile faded, and he focused all his attention on a point over my left shoulder. “No, I am starting to realize you’ve been telling the truth from the beginning,” he said in a hard voice.

  It took all of my willpower not to spin around, but I knew better than to let the predator know that the prey had spotted him. I let Chessie fall into a tense, listening stance while I flung my consciousness into Scar’s body, where I had a wide-angle view of the reflecting pool. Sure enough, Trout (if it was Trout) was approaching at what he clearly thought was a stealthy angle, jogging in the grass just outside of the path to take advantage of the cover offered by the trees and flower beds. I looked around, but I didn’t see his companion. Where would he be stationed to do maximum damage?

  I slipped back into Chessie’s head. “When I reconnoitered earlier, I saw two men,” I said in a quiet voice, still not looking over my shoulder. “How many are coming this way?”

  “Just one that I can see.”

  “Then his buddy is somewhere else inside the garden—or waiting outside to catch you when you run.”

  “Outside,” Dezmen guessed. “Wouldn’t want to pay the entrance fee.”

  Despite myself, I had to choke back a laugh because that actually made sense. “You any good in a fight?”

  “Well,” he said. “I’ve had some training. I’m sure I’m not as good as someone who brawls for a living.”

  I nodded, as if he’d just offered me a deal and I was accepting it. We were trying to act as though we were still in the middle of an ordinary conversation, not straining every nerve to catch the sounds of danger. “All right. I’ll walk away as if I’m leaving the garden, but I’ll circle back to see if you need help.”

  Despite the very real peril he was in, Dezmen paused to give me one comprehensive look—as if, for the first time, registering that I was a woman, and a not very large one at that. “Are you any good in a fight?”

  Damned if I could stop the smile. “Well,” I said modestly, “I manage to keep myself alive.”

  “Then I’ll be glad to see you come to the rescue.”

  “All right. Nod or something like we’ve just come to an agreement, and I’ll be on my way.”

  He pulled his features into a serious expression and nodded twice. I touched my fingers to my cap in a show of deference, then tucked my hands into my back pockets and strolled off down the path as if I didn’t have a worry in the world. The only way I could have appeared more carefree was if I’d started whistling. I left Scar and Red where they were since I’d be coming right back.

  Trout was
a big, dumb guy, so I figured he would scarcely wait till I was out of sight before he made his move. As soon as I was a reasonable distance away, I stepped off the path, hid myself behind a tree, and slipped into Scar’s head to see what was happening back at the Edwin statue.

  And goddess have mercy on my soul, I was almost too late. Trout must have rushed Dezmen the minute I stepped away, the force of his momentum carrying both of them into the reflecting pool. The water was shallow, but deep enough to drown a man if someone was holding him down by sitting on top of his head. I could see three sets of legs thrashing up spray as three shapes went under—the noble lord, who was being kept down by brute force, and the two echoes who were so tied to the actions of their master that they held themselves beneath the water and struggled to breathe.

  No time to call Chessie’s body back. As Scar, I leapt out of the gazebo and raced across the lawn to launch myself at Trout’s bulky shape. He yelped in surprise as I knocked him away from Dezmen and sent him splashing headfirst into the pool. Dezmen and his echoes shot up, gurgling for breath, but I couldn’t spare them any attention. I punched Trout hard in the face, my fist connecting with his cheekbone just as he was surfacing, and he went under again. His hands scrabbled for a purchase in the air and I saw his mouth making gulping motions under the water. When he came up a second time, I punched him again, and back down he went.

  I didn’t want to drown him, of course, so I watched closely, but he was far from done for. This time, when he came up, he was on his hands and knees and charged at me like a wounded animal. Neither of us was expecting Dezmen’s wet body to slam into him so hard the force of it carried both of them to the edge of the pool. The echoes hit the wall a second later. I heard Trout’s head make a sickening thud against the decorative stone lip, and the big man grunted with pain. He put his hand to his skull and, still lying half in and half out of the water, he stared up at us, blinking in confusion.