The Texts Of Festival (14 page)

The crowd parted and the soldiers hurried out of the door. Again everyone began to shout at once.

‘Le’s get ’im out!’

‘Yeah, get ’im out!’

‘Storm the fuggin’ Gate!’

‘Yeah!’

‘Ri’on!’

Frankie Lee held up his hands.

‘Listen, shut up. If we go chargin’ up to th’ Gate, more of us is gonna get killed, ri’? Jus’ like Wimp. We gotta suss this out, ’cause I don’t aim to go rushin’ off an’gettin’ meself wasted. Okay?’

‘Okay? So what’re we s’poseda do, bright boy?’

The girl from Madame Lou’s who had confronted the soldiers turned on Frankie Lee.

‘You got some master plan? Huh?’

‘We’re gonna need guns.’

Frankie Lee looked round.

‘How many o’ yous got guns here?’

About a dozen guns were produced.

‘We gonna need a heap more t’get inside the walls.’

‘Then th’ only way t’ get them guns is t’ hit a gunmaker’s, just them as is armed. Ri’?’

Frankie Lee thought for a moment.

‘Hol’ on, no dozen of us is gonna shoot their way into the Quarter. Tha’s suicide.’

‘I gotta nidea!’

The girl from Madame Lou’s pushed to the front again.

‘Back at Lou’s there’s ol’ Ardbrass of the Chemical Guild sleepin’ off a night wi’ Dirty Rita. If we got ’im as an ’ostage we could walk ri’ past th’ guards, like.’

The big labourer pushed forward.

‘She’s ri’, it’s worth a try. Le’s go get ’im.’

‘Wait,’ Frankie Lee raised his hand again, ‘just a couple of us, ri’. A bunch of us raise too much ruckus.’

‘So who’s gonna go?’

Frankie Lee looked round.

‘I’ll go for one.’

‘An I’ll go for anotha.’

The big labourer stepped forward. Frankie Lee looked at him.

‘You gotta gun?’

‘Sure.’

‘Okay, le’s go,’

The door opened and a guard came in with a tray of food. Joe Starkweather stood by the window. He could see, from its high position, clear over the walls and out across Festival to the woods on the south side, beyond the river. The day was still young and smoke curled up from a hundred breakfast cooking fires. Soon, he thought, it would be the smoke of Festival itself. When the guards had apologetically locked him in, he had first raged at the lord’s wanton stupidity, but the anger had given place to a cold bitterness.

As the guard set the food down Joe turned his head.

‘Any news?’

‘No Joe. Only that Valentine is plannin’ t’ send a force to recapture Afghan Promise. Scouts have set out already to check it out.’

‘Anything else happenin’?’

‘Oh yeah, Luther said t’ tell you that he’d tol’ the folks on th’ Drag ’bout how you was locked up.’

‘Yeah, how they take it?’

‘Dunno, don’ think Luther hung round, he was s’poseda be on th’ Gate.’

‘Okay, thanks.’

‘Okay Joe.’

The guard turned to go.

‘Lissen Joe, I’m sorry we gotta keep you here like this.’

‘That’s okay. It ain’t your fault.’

‘Thanks Joe.’

The guard left and the key turned in the lock.

Joe Starkweather looked dully at the food.

Merchant Ardbrass awoke with a start as something hard and cold was jammed against the side of the bed.

‘Shut up, or I’ll blow yer head off, got it?’

Blinking, the figures of two men swam into focus. The one who had spoken was holding a pistol to the side of his head, while the other stood back a little and covered him with a shotgun. The one beside him glanced at the woman who lay by his side.

‘Okay Rita, get outta bed an’ keep quiet.’

Slowly and carefully the naked girl sat up, staring at Frankie Lee with wide, frightened eyes.

‘Frankie, wha…’

‘I said shut up an’ get out!’

Frankie Lee’s voice was cold. The girl slid out of bed, picked up her clothes and made for the door.

‘Remember babe, keep your mouth shut.’ Rita nodded silently and slipped out of the door. Frankie Lee turned his attention back to the merchant.

‘Okay Mistuh Ardbrass, get up now, easy an’ slow. Okay?’

Carefully, the fat little merchant struggled into a sitting position and, watched by the two armed men, swung his legs over the side of the bed. Frankie Lee glanced at his partner.

‘Check his clothes for weapons.’

The big labourer rummaged through the merchant’s discarded clothes and, having removed a small pistol and the man’s pouch, dumped the garments on the bed. Frankie Lee stepped back.

‘Okay, get dressed, but remember we’re watchin’ you.’

The merchant, aware that he looked absurd in his chubby nakedness, struggled into his clothes, sweating profusely. When he was finished, Frankie Lee backed to the door, opened it a little and peered outside.

‘Everything looks okay, le’s get goin’.’

He gestured with his gun.

‘Start walkin’ downstairs Mistuh Ardbrass, we’re gonna be right behind you.’

The merchant looked round wide-eyed.

‘What do you want with me? I don’t have much money.’

‘You’ll find out soonly, jus’ walk.’

The door opened out onto a gallery that overlooked the main room of Madame Lou’s. Nothing appeared to have changed since they had come in. One-Legged Terry, who knew the score, was still sweeping up and everything was quiet. Cautiously they started down the wide stairs, guns trained on the merchant’s back.

They paused on the porch of Madame Lou’s and looked up and down the Drag. It was deserted except for two drunks and a beggar. Quickly they hurried the frightened merchant across to the Last Chance.

Valentine relaxed after the last of the court had filed out of the audience room. The morning had been exhausting but successful. He had finally rid himself of Starkweather and also bullied the merchants into providing two hundred horsemen for the expedition that would crush the outlaws at Afghan Promise. With another two hundred of his own guards the force would be more than adequate to deal with any rabble army of outlaws. Once that menace was out of the way, it would leave him free to stamp out the malcontents inside Festival itself and his troubles would be over.

He yawned and stretched his long legs. It was a nuisance that he had given orders for the army to move out so soon. He would really like to have resumed the sleep that had been interrupted so annoyingly by Starkweather.

The woman in the red cape had been really exceptional; it would probably be a good idea to take her with him when he rode with the army. Playing soldiers might be a novelty, but he would require other diversions while roughing it on the highway.

He took a pinch of crystal to ward off tiredness and reached for the bell on the small table beside the throne to ring for Lazarus. Moments later the old man appeared. Valentine stood up.

‘Is my carriage prepared?’

‘It will be ready soonly, my lord.’

‘See it provisioned for two, and find the woman I had last night. Have her ready to travel, and then send the valet in to shave me and do my make-up.’

Inside the Last Chance the group of armed men gathered round Frankie Lee to receive their final instructions for the raid on the gunsmith’s. Frankie Lee paused as the doors swung open and Claudette hurried into the bar room.

‘Lissen fellas, I jus’ heard somethin’ tha’s gonna make gettin’ them guns one whole lot easier.’

‘Yeah, what?’

‘Well, I jus’ met this solja boy who tol’ me that they been ordered t’ ride for Afghan Promise right away. Two hunerd from th’ palace an’ another two hunerd from the Quarter. It seems like if’n yous guys wait awhile you’ll be able t’ walk in with your hostage an’ take what you want; only be a handful of retainers t’ guard th’ palace.’

Grinning, Frankie Lee turned to the frightened little merchant.

‘You hear that, Mistuh Ardbrass; seems like our li’l plan’s gonna work out fine.’

14.

It was hot early afternoon and flies plagued Jaybee and Slick as they crouched in the clump of thorn trees on the hill overlooking Afghan Promise. They had been there since early morning, riding close to the town under cover of darkness, and then, as the sun had come up, settling in to watch and estimate the strength of the outlaws. The morning had passed slowly but both men, experienced scouts, dealt with the passage of time in their own way. Slick with his bottle and his covert pipes, and Jaybee with the almost inanimate stillness so characteristic of the tribesmen of the far hills.

They were an unlikely pair: the fast foxy little city man who had seen a hundred towns and a thousand bars, and the slow solid hill man who rarely spoke and moved with the maximum economy. Some chemistry had just seemed to happen and they had been partners for many years, working together and hiring themselves out as a team to anyone who would pay for their services.

This job for Valentine was, as far as they were concerned, just another gig.

As usual it was Slick who eventually broke the silence.

‘So how many you reckon they got in there? It’s hard to tell with so many comin’ in all th’ time. There’s been tribesmen an’ drifters ridin’ in all mornin’.’

There was a long pause while the big hill man considered.

‘Many ride in this day. I count ten times seven. Maybe ten times ten times six already in the town. Maybe there more; doubt if there less.’

‘You hill boys got a helluva waya reckonin’.’

Slick paused for a moment to count up.

‘So you reckon there’s mebbe about seven hunred ri’ now?’

‘Reckon.’

‘An’ about a third of ’em with horses?’

‘Some ten times ten twice.’

‘Two hunred horses an’ five hunred foot; that’s what I figured an’ they streamin’ in alla time. It don’t look good f’ Festival. I aint seen an army like this getting’ together before. You recognize any of ’em?’

‘Many tribes, many men without tribe. The totem of Oltha’s tribe is raised but Oltha not plan this alone.’

‘It’s too big for Oltha to put together on his own. I keep seein’ guys look like they could be Iggy’s bunch. You reckon Iggy coulda dreamed up this deal? He’s mad and mean enough.’

Jaybee shrugged. Again

‘Maybe Iggy. I can think of no other.’

They lapsed into silence again and scanned down into town.

‘Whoever’s behind it they sure got the place sewn up tight. My token says Iggy’s behind it.’

Again the hill man shrugged.

‘We wait for dark and carry word to Festival? I see enough.’

Slick sucked on his pipe.

‘Yeah, le’s get back ’n’ get paid off. I wouldn’t take no bets on how long Festival’s gonna last.’

Once the defences had been completed, there was little left to do around the fortified town apart from hauling firewood and checking in the new arrivals. The time passed with endless knife games, gambling and drinking. Occasionally a group of men would take one or two women prisoners to a secluded spot but even the rough sex play was becoming routine. Only the odd fight punctuated the waiting while the outlaw army grew to full strength.

For Nath the time dragged unusually slowly. Normally he would have welcomed a few days spent lazing around in camp but his introduction to crystal had put a tense, waspish edge on his ordinarily solid personality. His paranoia was even more increased by the fact that he was out of crystal and it seemed that Iggy was deliberately avoiding him and leaving him to hurt.

He sat alone in the tent he shared with four more of Oltha’s mounted guns. It was hot and stuffy and he brooded, turning over his dark thoughts and fighting the edge of crystal sickness that left him weak and sweating with a knotted stomach.

Suddenly through the tent flap he saw Iggy saunter past. Quickly he rose and hurried after him. Hearing footsteps behind him, Iggy turned.

‘Hey there, Nath ol’ buddy. You don’ look too good.’

‘Why you not come see me? No crystal, I hurt.’

Iggy stared coldly at the tribesman.

‘You think I got nothin’ to do but run round after dumb hillbillies who can’t handle a li’l bit o’ crystal? I got a fuggin’ army to take care of, sonny boy.’

Nath’s hand shook.

‘I … I hurting. You give crystal.’

‘You got a whole bunch yesterday, ol’ pal, so you jus’ gonna hafta wait. So jus’ fug off an’ don’ bother me.’ Nath’s hand crept slowly towards his knife.

‘You give crystal.’

Iggy stood quite still.

‘Don’t try nothin’ boy or you won’t get no crystal, never!’

He reached into his pouch and tossed Nath a small package.

‘Here, but tha’s gonna be the last if’n that chief of yours don’ get off my back. He don’ seem to like his boys doin’ crystal.’

‘Chief like mother hen!’

Nath spat and turned away to hurry back to his tent. Iggy watched him go, a grin stealing across his face. That should start something moving, he thought.

After three hits of crystal Nath began to feel more alive; the cramp left his stomach and the tension that had made him shake started to relax its grip. For a while he lay on the pile of furs that served him as a bed and watched the flies that buzzed in their ceaseless dance on the sickly air of the tent.

Soon, the crystal began to take hold and his thoughts started to flow as though on well-oiled bearings. He sat up. Just one more hit and he would go out and check what was happening. Maybe find a woman or take his place in a round of the knife game.

He reached into his pouch, pulled out the package of crystal and unwrapped it. Just as he was raising the hit to his nose, the sound of the tent flap opening made him start, spilling the crystal down the front of his rawhide shirt.

‘Curse on you, you …’

He stopped dead when he saw that the intruder was Oltha. Oltha stood in front of him scowling grimly.

‘You take the crystal, you destroy yourself. There is no place for one who takes crystal in this tribe.’

Oltha’s foot lashed out and the packet of crystal went flying, scattering its contents over the floor of the tent. Nath’s surprise turned quickly to fury. He leaped to his feet.

‘Tribe, tribe is nothing, you fool! I ride with Iggy. He deal with you!’

Oltha snarled and struck Nath across the face with the back of his hand.

‘Out, pig! Leave this camp. I settle with Iggy!’