The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [139]
“His crew? He and the rest—”
“Drinkin it up, real fuckin subtle-like, seven big assholes bunched together in one place. So I stagger o’er, not next to’em, understand, but close enough ta catch a word or two as everyone’s shoutin ta be ’eard in that fuckin place.”
Manuel could scarcely believe she could hear anything after a lifetime blasting guns, but her words were starting to create an unhappy image in his mind, though a play might have served the complex story better. A tragedy, with Manuel as the lead, and—he caught himself. “I’m sorry, Mo, what was that?”
“I said three of the big cunts was trackin’er this way, an’ come inta town the same day four of Kahlert’s boys come down from Calw. See, one of these local chumps went up ta let Kahlert know they’d caught ’is witch, but if that was true Awa couldn’t be muckin bout in them other churchyards the first three was followin’er through. So the muscle, all seven of’em, get inta town today, some from the south an’ some from the north, an’ someone recognizes someone else, they compare stories, an’ what the fuck? Somethin don’t add up, what with it soundin like the witch’s in two spots at once, an’ these boys pissed besides that some fuckin peasants is stealin they glory and they bounty.”
“I know what’s going on, Mo, I—” Manuel began, but she cuffed him on the head.
“Shut it til I’m finished. So the south muscle says she’d be up the graveyard tonight or next, seein as they don’t reckon she’s got a horse an’ this oughta be the next potter’s field in line for’er, an’ so they an’ the north muscle says why not go see if the peasants got themelves the witch, an’ if aye, great, kill the fuckers an’ take’er back to Kahlert, an’ if nay, send them peasants packin with an empty purse an’ lay in ta catch the witch if she shows her snout tonight or next. So they all runnin ta the graveyard, and we will, too, once you tell me how you got it all sussed, and what the fuck Doctor P is doin mixed up in it.”
“He’s the first witch!” said Manuel, the pieces fitting together seamlessly. “Maybe Kahlert isn’t specific about what witch he wants, or maybe the locals think, what with him being a fucking witch hunter, that he’ll pay out for any old witch they catch, and who knows, maybe he will. So Paracelsus arrives in town, running his fucking mouth, and some of the locals decide he’s witchy enough.”
“An’ you said you seen’em? Paracelsus?”
“Just down the wall!” And Manuel quickly recounted what he had seen by the fence.
“So Doctor Lump rides in a few days back an’ his fuckin mouth lands’em in witch territory.” Monique nodded slowly. “Barkeep sends word ta Calw tellin Kahlert they caught themelves a witch down in Wolf. Meantimes, Awa’s cuttin through graveyards for reasons obscure, with three fuckin bounty riders after’er, an’ is headed straight for this shitheap.”
“That’s how it looks from here,” said Manuel. “And that’s a sight better to go on than what either the locals or Kahlert’s muscle is working with.”
“I don’t give half a drunk-fuck what ’appens ta Doctor Lump, but if our girl’s blunderin inta it up the graveyard—”
“Or if we’re wrong about any of the details—”
“That’s enough head start for those assholes,” said Monique, straightening up. “Let’s get ta fuckin work, Manuel.”
They jumped the rough stone wall where they stood, then hurried up the grassy hill toward the treeline. Manuel found himself excited, actually nervous and eager and hungry to stick his sword in some piece of shit that would sell a girl to a witch hunter. A shame, he thought, that he had been unable to conjure such enthusiasm when he was actually a mercenary who stood just as good a chance of living out the battle as anyone else, as opposed to an already winded has-been embarking on a blind charge into a dark forest on an increasingly dark night against unknown odds with only a single ally at his side. He might have laughed but he lacked the air, and then the screams started, shrill but distinctly male, and Monique laughed for him.