I don't know that I had much luck obscuring Elmo's back trail. I think we were helped more by morning traffic than anything I did. I did get rid of the stableboy. I gave him a sock full of gold and silver, more than he could make in years of stable work, and asked him if he could lose himself. Away from Roses, preferably. He told me, "I won't even stop to get my things." He dropped his pitchfork and headed out, never to be seen again.
I hied myself back to our room.
Everyone was sleeping but Otto. "Oh, Croaker," he said. "Bout time."
"Pain?"
"Yeah."
"Hangover?"
"That too."
"Let's see what we can do. How long you been awake?"
"An hour, I guess."
"Soulcatcher been here?"
"No. What happened to him, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"Hey. Those are my boots. What the hell you think you're doing, wearing my boots?"
"Take it easy. Drink this."
He drank. "Come on. What're you doing wearing my boots?"
I removed the boots and set them near the fire, which had burned quite low. Otto kept after me while I added coal. "If you don't calm down you're going to rip your stitches."
I will say this for our people. They pay attention when my advice is medical. Angry as he was, he lay back, forced himself to lie still. He did not stop cussing.
I shed my wet things and donned a nightshirt I found lying around. I don't know where it came from. It was too short. I put a pot on for tea, then turned to Otto. "Let's take a closer look." I dragged my kit over.
I was cleaning around the wound, and Otto was cursing softly when I heard the sound: Scrape-dump, scrape clump. It stopped outside the door.
Otto sensed my fear. "What's the matter?"
"It's...." The door opened behind me. I glanced back. I'd guessed right.
The Limper went to the table, dropped into a chair, surveyed the room. His gaze skewered me.
Inanely, I said, "I just started tea."
He stared at the wet boots and cloak, then at each man in the room. Then at me again.
The Limper is not a big man. Barely over five feet tall, and of slightly under average build. Meeting him in the street, not knowing what he was, you would not be impressed. Like Soulcatcher, he was clad in a single color, a dingy brown. He was ragged. His face was concealed by a battered leather mask which drooped. Tangled threads of hair protruded from under his hood and around his mask. It was grey peppered with black.
He did not say a word. Just sat there and stared. Not knowing what else to do, I finished tending Otto, then made the tea. I poured three tin cups, gave one to Otto, set one before the Limper, took the third myself....
What now? No excuse to be busy.
Nowhere to sit but at that table.... Oh, shit!
The Limper removed his mask. He raised the tin cup....
I could not tear my gaze away.
His was the face of a dead man, of a mummy improperly preserved. His eyes were alive and baleful, yet directly beneath one was a patch of flesh which had rotted. Beneath his nose, at the right corner of his mouth, a square inch of lip was missing, revealing gum and yellowed teeth.
The Limper sipped tea, met my eye, and smiled.
I nearly dribbled down my leg.
I went to the window. There was some light out there now, and the snowfall was weakening, but I could not see the stone.
The stamp of boots sounded on the stair. Elmo and Raven shoved into the room. Elmo growled, "Hey, Croaker, how the hell did you get rid of that...." His words grew smaller as he recognized our visitor.
Raven gave me a guestioning look. The Limper turned. I shrugged when his back was to me. Raven moved to one side, began removing his wet things.
Elmo got the idea. He went the other way, stripped beside the fire. "Damn, it's good to get out of those. How's the boy, Otto?"
"There's fresh tea," I said.
Otto replied, "I hurt all over, Elmo."
The Limper peered at each of us, and at One-Eye and Goblin, who had yet to stir. "So. Soulcatcher brings the Black Company's best." His voice was a whisper, yet it filled the room. "Where is he?"
Raven ignored him. He donned dry breeches, sat beside Otto, doublechecked my handiwork. "Good job of stitching, Croaker."
"I get plenty of practice with this outfit."
Elmo shrugged in response to the Limper. He drained his cup, poured tea all around, then filled the pot from one of the pitchers. He planted a boot in One-Eye's ribs while the Limper glared at Raven.
"You!" the Limper snapped. "I haven't forgotten what you did in Opal. Nor during the campaign in Forsberg."
Raven settled with his back against the wall. He produced one of his more wicked knives, began cleaning his fingernails. He smiled. At the Limper, he smiled, and there was mockery in his eyes.
Didn't anything scare that man?
"What did you do with the money? That wasn't Soulcatcher's. The Lady gave it to me."
I took courage from Raven's stance. "Aren't you supposed to be in Elm? The Lady ordered you out of the Salient."
Anger distorted that wretched face. A scar ran down his forehead and left cheek. It stood out. Supposedly it continued down his left breast. The blow had been struck by the White Rose herself.
The Limper rose. And that damned Raven said, "Got the cards, Elmo? The table's free."
The Limper scowled. The tension level was rising fast. He snapped, "I want that money. It's mine. Your choice is to cooperate or not. I don't think you'll enjoy it if you don't."
"You want it, go get it," Raven said. "Catch Raker, chop off his head, take it to the stone. Ought to be easy for the Limper. Raker's only a bandit. What chance would he stand against the Limper?"
I thought the Taken would explode. He did not. For an instant he was baffled.
He was not off balance long. "All right. If you want it the hard way." His smile was wide and cruel. Did he have some special interest in Raven?
The tension was near the snapping point.