“Can it really be personal sacrifice if you’remakingthem do something?” “Love your idealism,” said Madam, “but I can hardly think, Mr.
Solomon, that this is why you came.”
“Fair enough,” I said, “I need to know about that wraith you had in your nets. Anything I could use to track it. It’ll save lives, and not just topside.”
Madam laughed again and shook her head. “Track a wraith? No wonder there’s such interest in you, Mr. Solomon: you’re quite mad.”
“There’s more.”
“Oh, this should be good,” she said, pushing back her hat.
“I need to know who Muster Brach hired to kill Henry Wilkinson . . .” I paused to watch her eyes, but she was too good. “Even if that someone is you.”
Madam’s smile faded. “Well then, Mr. Solomon, this is going to be a very disappointing visit for you.”
“Just tell me . . . I’ll even pay for the information. Church?” Church produced his bag of silver and held it toward her.
“I have a counteroffer.” Madam looked out at the crowd gaping at us and then back at me. “You stay here with us for a couple of days, hale and hearty until your chancery appointment, and I will let your friends walk out of here as alive as they were when they came in. How does that grab you?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lakshmi step out from behind the edge of the curtain onto the far side of the stage. She drew her tulwar and called out, “I suggest you answer Mr. Solomon’s questions.”
Madam bowed. “Nicely played, Mr. Solomon, but do you really believe you can defeat us all?” She drew her bow over one of her lantern’s rods, scraping out an earthy tone. Light flared, touching every semblance and vestige in the theater. They roared and tightened in front of the stage.
Cassius leaned in close. “Call for single combat.” “What?”
“One versus one,” Cassius explained. “My fourth-century binder, Theodosius, instituted the practice after dealing with bands of Picts and Saxons. I prefer it, anyway. It is more honorable.”
Still amazed me how long Cassius had been fighting. “I’m not sure Madam’s one to give up an advantage.”
“Most thanatists would not,” he said, “but single combat is still codified in Precedent Law. Most new thanatists are just not aware of the fact.”
I eyed Madam’s giant. “Her spearman’s got you by more than a foot.
Can you beat him?”
The centurion smiled like a madman. “I have wanted this opportunity since our contest outside your home was interrupted.”
I slapped his back and turned to Madam. “I cite Precedent and call for single combat to settle this. Assuming a freebooter like yourself has the scruples to honor the outcome, how about your spearman against my centurion? If your man wins, I stay here, and my friends walk free. But if my man wins, you tell me what I want to know, and weallgo home.”
Madam looked Cassius over. “I don’t care much about Precedent. But I love a good show. I hope your man gives us one. I think, though, you will be washing his blood from our beautiful stage before we retire to await your trial.”
She laughed and cleared her crew back out of the way. Then she stepped to the far side of the stage, lantern and bow still inhand. My friends and I went to the other side. She gestured like a band conductor, and Paul Rutherford counted the Swing Kings into a lively carnival-style tune.
Cassius started forward, sword in hand. Madam’s spearman stepped toward him, spinning his eight-foot spear. They began to circle.
The spearman thrust his spear at Cassius’s chest. Cassius slipped it, cried “Bratros,” and rushed the spearman, his sandals pounding the boards like floor toms.
They went down on the old planks with a heavy thud. The spearman rolled over on top of Cassius and swung the butt of his spear at Cassius’s face. Cassius shifted his head away just in time, rolled onto the spearman’s arm, flipping the man over, then clamped a chokehold on him.
The spearman’s face flushed red, then started to pale. But before passing out he stood, Cassius on his back as if he weighed nothing. The spearman jumped and fell back, bringing his full weight down on top of Cassius and cracking the boards beneath them. Cassius went still.
The crowd roared and pounded their hands on the front of the stage as the carnival-swing music played on.
Madam laughed. “Oh, how the mighty fall. Right, Mr. Solomon?” “I really wish you’d shut the hell up,” I said.
The spearman wrapped his massive hands around Cassius’s neck. Cassius still hadn’t moved. He needed a bracing stroke. I’d seen it done, and even practiced a little, though not on anyone. Got to be now. I took my lantern by its pistol grip, focused intensely on my friend, and pulled my bow hard and fast against one of my lamp’s frame rods.
Amber light shot out and hit Cassius directly in his wrist binding, but it was merely like shining a flashlight on him. The theater mob laughed and threw popcorn at me.
