asked,
“Why're you doing this?” “I need money, too. Got a long way to travel. This way
I get a lot, fast, without much risk.”
Shed thought the risks far greater than Raven would admit. They could be torn
apart. “You're not from Juniper, are you?”
“From the south. A shipwrecked sailor.”
Shed did not believe it. Raven's accent was not at all right for that, mild
though it was. He hadn't the nerve to call the man a liar, though, and press for
the truth.
The conversation continued by fits and starts. Shed didn't uncover anything more
of Raven's background or motives.
“Go that way,” Raven told him. “I'll check over here. Last stop, Shed. I'm done
in.”
Shed nodded. He wanted to get the night over. To his disgust, he had begun
seeing the street people as objects, and he hated them for dying in such damned
inconvenient places.
He heard a soft call, turned back quickly. Raven had one. That was enough. He
ran to the wagon.
Raven was on the seat, waiting. Shed scrambled up, huddled, tucked his face away
from the wind. Raven kicked the mules into motion.
The wagon was halfway across the bridge over the Port when Shed heard a moan.
“What?” One of the bodies was moving! “Oh. Oh, shit, Raven. . . .”
“He's going to die anyway.”
Shed huddled back down, stared at the buildings on the north bank. He wanted to
argue, wanted to fight, wanted to do anything to deny his part in this atrocity.
He looked up an hour later and recognized nothing. A few large houses flanked
the road, widely spaced, their windows dark. “Where are we?”
“Almost there. Half an hour, unless the road is too icy.”
Shed imagined the wagon sliding into a ditch. What then? Abandon everything and
hope the rig couldn't be traced? Fear replaced loathing.
Then he realized where they were. There wasn't anything up here but that
accursed black castle. “Raven. ...”
“What's the matter?”
“You're head for the black castle.”
“Where'd you think we were going?”
“People live there?”
“Yes. What's your problem?”
Raven was a foreigner. He couldn't understand how the black castle affected
Juniper. People who got too close disappeared. Juniper preferred to pretend that
the place did not exist.
Shed stammered out his fears. Raven shrugged. “Shows your ignorance.”
Shed saw the castle's dark shape through the snow. The fall was lighter on the
ridge, but the wind was more fierce. Resigned, he muttered, “Let's get it over
with.”
The shape resolved into battlements, spires, towers. Not a light shown anywhere.
Raven halted before a tall gate, went forward on foot. He banged a heavy
knocker. Shed huddled, hoping there would be no response.
The gate opened immediately. Raven scrambled onto the wagon's seat. "Get up,
mules."
“You're not going inside?”
“Why not?”
“Hey. No way. No.”
“Shut up, Shed. You want your money, you help unload.”
Shed stifled a whimper. He hadn't bargained for this.
Raven drove through the gate, turned right, halted be-neath a broad arch. A
single lantern battled the darkness clotting the passageway. Raven swung down.
Shed followed, his nerves shrieking. They dragged the bodies out of the wagon
and swung them onto stone slabs nearby. Then Raven said, "Get back on the wagon.
Keep your mouth shut." The one body stirred. Shed grunted. Raven pinched his leg
savagely. “Shut up.”
A shadowy shape appeared. It was tall, thin, clad in loose black pantaloons and
a hooded shirt. It examined each body briefly, seemed pleased. It faced Raven.
Shed glimpsed a face all of sharp angles and shadows, lustrous, olive, cold,
with a pair of softly luminous eyes. “Thirty. Thirty. Forty. Thirty. Seventy,”
it said. Raven countered, “Thirty. Thirty. Fifty. Thirty. One hundred.”
“Forty. Eighty.” “Forty-five. Ninety.” “Forty. Ninety.” “Done.”
They were dickering! Raven was not interested in quibbling over the
“Why're you doing this?” “I need money, too. Got a long way to travel. This way
I get a lot, fast, without much risk.”
Shed thought the risks far greater than Raven would admit. They could be torn
apart. “You're not from Juniper, are you?”
“From the south. A shipwrecked sailor.”
Shed did not believe it. Raven's accent was not at all right for that, mild
though it was. He hadn't the nerve to call the man a liar, though, and press for
the truth.
The conversation continued by fits and starts. Shed didn't uncover anything more
of Raven's background or motives.
“Go that way,” Raven told him. “I'll check over here. Last stop, Shed. I'm done
in.”
Shed nodded. He wanted to get the night over. To his disgust, he had begun
seeing the street people as objects, and he hated them for dying in such damned
inconvenient places.
He heard a soft call, turned back quickly. Raven had one. That was enough. He
ran to the wagon.
Raven was on the seat, waiting. Shed scrambled up, huddled, tucked his face away
from the wind. Raven kicked the mules into motion.
The wagon was halfway across the bridge over the Port when Shed heard a moan.
“What?” One of the bodies was moving! “Oh. Oh, shit, Raven. . . .”
“He's going to die anyway.”
Shed huddled back down, stared at the buildings on the north bank. He wanted to
argue, wanted to fight, wanted to do anything to deny his part in this atrocity.
He looked up an hour later and recognized nothing. A few large houses flanked
the road, widely spaced, their windows dark. “Where are we?”
“Almost there. Half an hour, unless the road is too icy.”
Shed imagined the wagon sliding into a ditch. What then? Abandon everything and
hope the rig couldn't be traced? Fear replaced loathing.
Then he realized where they were. There wasn't anything up here but that
accursed black castle. “Raven. ...”
“What's the matter?”
“You're head for the black castle.”
“Where'd you think we were going?”
“People live there?”
“Yes. What's your problem?”
Raven was a foreigner. He couldn't understand how the black castle affected
Juniper. People who got too close disappeared. Juniper preferred to pretend that
the place did not exist.
Shed stammered out his fears. Raven shrugged. “Shows your ignorance.”
Shed saw the castle's dark shape through the snow. The fall was lighter on the
ridge, but the wind was more fierce. Resigned, he muttered, “Let's get it over
with.”
The shape resolved into battlements, spires, towers. Not a light shown anywhere.
Raven halted before a tall gate, went forward on foot. He banged a heavy
knocker. Shed huddled, hoping there would be no response.
The gate opened immediately. Raven scrambled onto the wagon's seat. "Get up,
mules."
“You're not going inside?”
“Why not?”
“Hey. No way. No.”
“Shut up, Shed. You want your money, you help unload.”
Shed stifled a whimper. He hadn't bargained for this.
Raven drove through the gate, turned right, halted be-neath a broad arch. A
single lantern battled the darkness clotting the passageway. Raven swung down.
Shed followed, his nerves shrieking. They dragged the bodies out of the wagon
and swung them onto stone slabs nearby. Then Raven said, "Get back on the wagon.
Keep your mouth shut." The one body stirred. Shed grunted. Raven pinched his leg
savagely. “Shut up.”
A shadowy shape appeared. It was tall, thin, clad in loose black pantaloons and
a hooded shirt. It examined each body briefly, seemed pleased. It faced Raven.
Shed glimpsed a face all of sharp angles and shadows, lustrous, olive, cold,
with a pair of softly luminous eyes. “Thirty. Thirty. Forty. Thirty. Seventy,”
it said. Raven countered, “Thirty. Thirty. Fifty. Thirty. One hundred.”
“Forty. Eighty.” “Forty-five. Ninety.” “Forty. Ninety.” “Done.”
They were dickering! Raven was not interested in quibbling over the
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