Gaston jumped off the chair.
“Do me a favor.” William tried to sit on the bed. At the last possible moment, the treacherous piece of furniture made a panicked attempt to jerk out from under him. He landed on the covers, pinning the bed in place with his weight. That was some wine. “Don’t leave your hair on the door handles. Or across bag handles. Or wrapped around letters.”
“I wanted you to know that I was in the room.”
William pulled one boot off. “For one, you opened the window, and there was a draft under the door. For another, the door handle was still warm. And then—”
The other boot landed next to its twin.
“And then?” Gaston asked.
“I heard you. And smelled you.” William leveled his gaze on the kid. “You are supposed to be asleep, because of your grandmother’s magic. Why are you up?”
Gaston locked his teeth. “I want to come with you tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You’re a kid. Tomorrow is a fight to the death. It won’t be pretty like in the books and movies. It will be hell. People will hurt and die, and you won’t be one of them.”
“I’m strong! I’m fast, I can climb, I can hit really hard, and I’m good with a knife ...”
William shook his head.
“He cut off my mother’s leg!”
William hopped off the bed. “I’m drunk. I’m wasted on that damn wine and I’m seeing double. So come on. Give it your best shot.”
Gaston hesitated.
William rocked a little on the balls of his feet, trying to keep his balance. “Pussy.”
The kid’s face went red. He bounced off the wall, leaping, hands outstretched. William grabbed his arm, channeling his momentum, and jerked him out of the air, flipping him. Gaston crashed to the floor and slid into the wall. William tilted his head, looking him over.
The kid shook himself and rolled to his feet. Not a quitter.
“What’s the matter? Can’t you knock me off my feet? I can barely stand.”
Gaston bared his teeth and lunged from a crouch. The kid was fast, William reflected, as he slammed his elbow on the back of Gaston’s neck. The boy sprawled on the floor. William kicked him in the kidneys. Gaston gasped.
“What’s the lesson?” William asked.
“You’re better,” Gaston ground out and swiped at William’s ankle.
William kicked him again. Gaston curled into a ball, trying to draw some air into his lungs.
“Take your time. Try not to get knocked down. If you’re down, keep your stomach flexed, so a kick to the gut doesn’t take you out.”
The kid inhaled finally.
“What’s the lesson?”
Gaston coughed. “Not good enough.”
“Not good enough yet. Yet being the important part.” William grabbed the kid by the arm and pulled him up. “Going to fight Spider tomorrow is very noble. People like us don’t give a flying fuck about noble. We fight to win. We fight dirty and we use everything we’ve got, because the job is not to throw your life away. The job is to take the other fucker out. And a bastard like Spider takes skill to kill. Being strong and fast doesn’t make you good. It just means you have potential.”
Gaston wiped his nose.
“If you live long enough, I’ll teach you to be like me. Or you can run in there roaring tomorrow, like your father does, and let Spider turn you into a piece of bleeding meat.”
“What if he takes you out tomorrow?”
William sighed. “If he does, go to Sicktree. Find a guy called Zeke Wallace. He runs a leather shop there. Tell him what happened and tell him that you need to speak to Declan Camarine in Adrianglia. Zeke will get you to Declan, and he will take it from there. In a few years you can hunt Spider down and kill him in my memory. Or you can die tomorrow. Your choice.”
William opened the door. Gaston walked out and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll beat you one day.”
“Maybe.”
William shut the door and fell on the bed. It was good that he never got hangovers, or he would be a sorry man in the morning.
He closed his eyes and heard the door swing open. Cerise slipped into his room and slid into the bed next to him.
“Am I dreaming?” he asked her.
“No.”
“Oh, good.”
TWENTY-SIX
GRAY predawn light snagged on the damp cypress needles. William leaned forward, gripping the cypress branch with his fingers to keep from falling. Above him Kaldar shifted in the tangle of maiden’s hair moss.
When he’d volunteered to scout ahead of the Mars, he didn’t think Cerise would saddle him with her cousin. Kaldar’s body moved quietly enough. His mouth was another matter.
William squinted. From his perch in the cypress he could see the hothouse and a chunk of back wall about four hundred yards away. A short dark figure moved within the hothouse. As they watched, the hunchback swung a short shovel. Glass rang. Shards flew to the ground.
“What is he doing?” Kaldar murmured.
“He’s breaking down the garden.”
William swung off the branch, leaped down to the lower one, and swung himself down, dropping to the ground.
“Where are you going?” Kaldar hissed.
“Inside. Spider and most of his people are gone. There are only a few agents guarding the place.”
“We’re supposed to wait for Cerise.”
William activated his crossbow and headed to the house. Behind him Kaldar swore under his breath and hopped onto the soft ground. William padded through the cypress grove to the edge of the clearing and halted. The ground smelled odd.
Kaldar caught up. “Trapped?”
“Yes.”
Kaldar picked up a rock and tossed it into the clearing. It landed between two wards. A green stem shot out of the ground, and a hail of needle-thin thorns peppered the soil, striking sparks off the rock.
“You got any money on you?”
“No.”
Kaldar grimaced. “What do you have?”