Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

you know how evil he is. You have no idea of who his allies really are, and the terrible things he intends to do. You need to know what I know. Keep me around. I can be useful. In the end, you’ll learn to trust me. I’ll advise you, follow you, fight beside you.”
    “Why?” said Douglas.
    “Because Finn killed my brother.”
    “Ah,” said Douglas. “Yes. Family obligations. I know all about those.” He nodded to Stuart, who reluctantly took his knife away from Tel’s throat.
    Tel rose slowly to his feet, awkwardly conscious of what a ragged and filthy picture he presented. It had been a long time since he could afford to care about his appearance, but he wanted, needed, Douglas to remember him as the man he was, not the creature he’d become.
    Stuart wrinkled his nose. “Damn, Markham, but you stink! And to be that noticeable in a dump like this is something of an achievement. If you’re going to spend any time with us, you need to take a bath. Urgently. There’s a tin bath on the ground floor. Tell the owner I said you could use it, and that he’d better scour and disinfect it afterwards. Hell, scrub it out yourself! We all have to use the bloody thing. God, sometimes I think I’m only fighting this rebellion for a return to decent plumbing.”
    “First things first,” said Tel, just a little diffidently. “I belong to the landlord of the Three Cripples. He owns my contract. I can’t work for anyone else unless you buy me out. I shouldn’t even be here, really, even if it is on what I laughingly refer to as my own time.”
    “Slavery’s illegal,” said Douglas. “Even in the Rookery.”
    “Lot you know,” said Tel Markham.
    Stuart sighed heavily. “I guess I’d better pay another visit to the Three Cripples.”
    “You do that,” said Nina. “And I think I’ll force open the window while you’re gone.”

    In the end, both Douglas and Stuart went with Tel to the tavern. Douglas talked to the landlord, and offered the man a fair sum to release Tel from his contract. The landlord, sensing which way the wind was blowing, immediately claimed Tel was utterly irreplacable, and that he couldn’t run the tavern without him. He then demanded an utterly unreasonable sum to break the contract. So Douglas knocked him on his arse, right there in front of his customers. Slavery is illegal, he declared loudly. As of right bloody now.
    “You know,” said Tel, as they walked out of the tavern, “that isn’t going to be a terribly popular sentiment in some parts of the Rookery. The tradition of indentured servitude goes back a long time here.”
    “Tough,” said Douglas. “My leadership of this rebellion comes with a price, and the price is morality. The Rookery will become better than it was. The people will become strong again. They have to. Because the weak and uncertain won’t stand a chance against Finn’s fanatics.” He looked around at the small but attentive crowd that always appeared when he went out in public. “Wouldn’t you all like to feel good about yourselves again?”
    “Don’t you condescend to us, aristo!” said a lady of a certain age with too much eye makeup. “We weren’t all born to wealth and privilege! We’ve had to make our own way. We fight Finn for our interests, not yours!”
    “I could shoot her,” Stuart said quietly.
    “Don’t tempt me,” murmured Douglas. He smiled easily about him. “Your interests are my interests, and vice versa. We have a common cause, bound together by need and destiny.”
    He bowed courteously to the woman, and walked on. Stuart and Tel followed him. Stuart scowled.
    “What the hell did that mean?”
    “Beats me,” said Douglas. “It sounded good, though. When in doubt, baffle them with rhetoric. You know, things were a lot easier when I still had Anne to write my speeches for me. Look, what matters is getting the rebellion started. We can argue about what it’s for after we’ve won.”
    “Those sound an awful lot like famous last words to me,” said Stuart, and Tel nodded solemnly.
    “I wonder if Owen had these problems,” Douglas said wistfully.
    They trudged along, Tel hanging back just a little. He had clean clothes now, and could stand to be downwind of himself at last, but he still didn’t feel worthy to walk beside Douglas yet. His pride had been very thoroughly beaten out of him while working at the Three Cripples, and it was slow coming back. He’d spent most of the past few days rehearsing in his