by Glen Cook
I anticipated as much.
Uh-oh. He was up to something. And was way ahead of me in whatever his scheme was. “You say he’s more or less sane now?”
As much as can he. To roughly the baseline that existed at the time of his stroke. More than that is beyond even the Luck of A-Lat. And that will persist only so long as he remains within the influence of the child and the kittens.
“So what do we do with him?”
Exactly.
“Well?”
Waiting on you, Garrett. I owe him nothing. I would hand him off to Colonel Block. Along with his memoirs. Then he issued one of his cryptic, one-hand-clapping pronouncements. There is a workable answer implicit within the existing situation, though it is as complicated as the situation itself.
All right. He’s a little windy for a perfect master.
Passing everything and everyone off to the law was, no doubt, a rational final solution. And one I wish I was hard enough to invoke. But I’m me. Garrett. The old softy.
“What about his family?”
Also as healed as can be. But wounds leave scars. And scars never go away.
“Hey! What about that message from Morley?”
Mr. Dotes says the Sculdytes and their associates are dead or in custody. He suggests we wrap up anything we don’t want examined closely because we may find ourselves the focus of the Watch as soon as Colonel Block and Director Relway have rested.
“You should’ve told me that first.”
The matters are related. Mr. Contague, Miss Contague, and most of these others need to be out of here when the law invites itself in. Make no mistake — if they make a hard decision to get us, they can.
“I have no interest in a game of macho with the Watch.”
We may not have many more unencumbered hours. I have set certain processes in motion, but no good will come of them in time.
Of course. They’d start out just watching. But well-rested men would rotate in behind the first wave, two or three for one, and so forth, till they stood shoulder to shoulder. If Block and Relway felt the need. They were planners. They didn’t move without being prepared. For all the speed they’ve shown trying to establish the rule of law.
Crushing the Sculdytes wouldn’t mean an end to organized crime. Nobody is dim enough to think that’s possible, or even entirely desirable. But the Outfit’s power to corrupt would be reduced dramatically. Its power to play favor for a favor would be pruned way back. Meaning those villains on the Hill wouldn’t have so many dirty hands on call. Let alone the occasional beakful of found money.
“Singe. Get Tinnie down here. Dump a bucket of slush on her if you need to.”
“I will defer to the grand master on that.”
“Huh?”
“Do your own dumping. Tinnie dislikes me enough already.”
73
Colonel Block came himself. He’d believed Constable Scithe, who’d believed me when I told him Chuckles was snoozing. Or, as seems more likely, he didn’t care. He thought he didn’t need to hide anymore.
He came in looking tired, ragged, and suspicious. His gaze darted around like he expected trouble. He must’ve been right out there on the sharp end of the spear.
“You seem awful twitchy.”
“It was a close-run thing. Thank heaven I’ve got committed people. And had bad weather. That kept my friends off my good back. They couldn’t help me with negative advice. But they’ll catch up yet. I may be looking for work soon.”
Dean showed up with refreshments. Then Singe brought Kolda’s voluminous scribblings. I told Block, “You’d have time to read all this then.”
He paid no attention. Just held the papers in his lap. “Where are they?”
“Where are what?”
“The people you were hiding here.”
“Kolda is in the small front room, sleeping off a bad case of writer’s cramp. The big bruno from Ymber is in with the Dead Man. His boss we dragged back over to your shop on account of he was too strong and stubborn for Chuckles to manage and keep up with everything else he wanted to get done before he drifted off”
“Same old Garrett. I don’t give a rat’s ass about those people.”
“And Tinnie’s upstairs, in bed. Sick.”
“A higher power than I has decided the A-Laf cult is too dangerous to tolerate. I want to know where Harvester Temisk, Chodo Contague, and Belinda Contague went.”
I put on my dumb look. Like all my sergeants during basic, he didn’t buy it. Coldly, he reported chapter and verse of comings and goings at my place for the past several days. Every one. From a very specific point in time.
The Dead Man was more flabbergasted than me. He thought so much of himself. When he’d said nobody was watching he’d done so in absolute confidence.
“Captain Ramey List,” I said. “He wasn’t what he seemed.”
Captain List was exactly what he seemed. He brought something in without knowing it. Almost certainly aboard one of his spear carriers, who would have been more than he seemed. Now that I am aware of its existence I will not be long locating it.
“Now that it’s too late and doesn’t matter.” Colonel Block allowed himself a thin smile.
He is not aware of details. Director Relway was behind the plant. Which appears only to have betrayed comings and goings, not anything that was done or said.
“Then we’re in good shape.”
“Where are they, Garrett? We could put paid to the whole underworld right now.”
“You can’t possibly believe that. It’s part of the social fabric. All you’ve done is make life easier for Belinda. You got rid of the people most likely to have eliminated her. Made for a smoother transition of power.”
“Stipulated. But the baddies won’t be the old bunch. Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You refusing to tell me what I want to know?”
Colonel Block’s recent activities left him more exhausted intellectually than he is aware. He is not thinking clearly. Consequently, he is dramatically overconfident. It is not necessary to be stubborn. He will not remember anything he hears.
“Not at all. Not at all.” Probably wouldn’t hurt to tell him everything, even if he did remember. Old Bones wasn’t clueing me in about much these days.
Several kittens chose that moment to set up housekeeping in the Colonel’s lap. Block petted them but paid no attention otherwise.
Chuckles and the Luck made a dangerous team.
“Tell you the complete truth, I have no idea where they went or what happened to them. The way it was explained to me, what I don’t know I can’t blab to some nosy Watchman.”
I wouldn’t overdo the truth stuff in any case. The Dead Man isn’t infallible. Block’s confidence might be justified. He might’ve had a metal plate installed in his head to block out Loghyr thoughts.
I wasn’t untruthful. I didn’t know where the crowd had gone. I couldn’t think of anywhere to stash them that the Watch wouldn’t look right away.
I wasn’t confident that Saucerhead, Winger, John Stretch, and Jon Salvation could manage that crowd, either. However much Penny Dreadful seemed inclined to cooperate now.
Being a natural-born, ever-loving, blue-eyed cynic, I didn’t buy that kid being satisfied with a father who wasn’t the avenger with flaming sword she’d come to find.
Block kept trying to get steamed up. But another kitten arrived every time the red began to show in his cheeks.
I changed the subject. “You heard anything to explain this strange weather? I don’t like it. People can’t get out and show off their three-wheels. The fad might go away before I get rich.”
“You’ll never be rich, Garrett. You don’t have what it takes to hang on to wealth and make it grow.”
“I’ll buy that. I should get rid of these freeloaders. Thanks, Singe.” She’d brought beer.
He was distracted. He’d begun to look confused. Like I do when I walk into a room, then stand around trying to remember why
.
The Dead Man had Block, subtly enough that the Colonel didn’t realize it. But then, we’d lied to him about Old Bones being asleep.
We had a few beers, relaxed, solved most of the problems of TunFaire. On Block’s side, that reflected Deal Relway’s conviction that to set the world right we need to kill the people who get in the way. Every little bit, he’d realize he was out of character and get upset. A cat or-two would pile on long enough to distract him. After Tinnie joined us the cats were unnecessary.
The man would offer some competition if he could.
You can release him back into the wild, Garrett. The worst is past. He is not likely to be concerned about us for several days now.
74
I shook hands with Block. He frowned, unable to shake the suspicion that he’d missed something critical. He went down to the street hugging his bundle of papers, stopped, shook his head, went on. He had trouble steering a straight line.
I shook hands with a groggy and thoroughly confused Kolda, too. The poisoner winced. He couldn’t close his fingers into a fist. It wasn’t much, but it was some payback. He headed out, dispirited. He passed a bent old man coming uphill slowly, leaning heavily on an ugly, polished teak cane.
I just had time to notice him, then had to get out of the way as the Green Pants wide load shuffled out of the house. A-Lafs sexton had less grasp on the world than did Kolda. And smelled bad besides.
Watchmen moved in on him, grinning. The big guy went along docilely.
Penny Dreadful observed from her usual perch. How did she shake loose?
The little old man reached my steps. He stopped. He wore a huge brown overcoat, far too large for him. He pushed hard on his cane, forcing his body upright. He looked at me. He didn’t seem impressed. “You Garrett?”
“Garrett! You going to hold that door open until we all freeze?” Tinnie was not in a good humor. “Yes.” Meant for the old man but heard by the redhead. And taken to heart.
Bring him to me.
“Who?”
Silverman.
“I am Silverman,” the old man announced. As though that explained creation itself. “How marvelous for you.” What the hell was this? “Come on in.”
“I’ll need help. These steps look treacherous.”
The air was warm. The snow was melting, making the footing dangerous. There’d be flooding in the low parts of town.
On cue, in a roar of tiny wings, pixies exploded from my wall. The swarm streaked out into the weather. Except Melondie Kadare. Mel tried to flit into the house. Tinnie slammed the door before she got there.
I went down to help Silverman, baffled. “I suppose you’re expected.”
He gave me an odd look. “Stay close. Catch me if I slip.” After a three-step climb he paused to catch his wind.
“Wouldn’t be a big cabbage eater, would you?”
“Eh?”
“Never mind. Who are you? What are you?” Melondie perched on my right shoulder. “Silverman. You don’t know why you sent for me?”
I’d overlooked it when I became a dual personality. The one in charge now didn’t have a clue. “I don’t think so.” If you were two people in one slab of meat, would you know it? Werewolves usually do.
“Your man came. He seduced me away from my work. He said you can get my daughter moved up the priority list”
“But — Stop that, Bug!” Melondie was messing with my ear.
I sent for him, Garrett. Will you cease dawdling? Bring the man here. I caught a hint of unease. Something wasn’t going quite the way he wanted. I didn’t think he was fussed about the pestiferous pixie, though.
Nothing for it but to ride the tiger now. The door was locked.
“Lookit here, Mel. I got time to deal with you.” I faked a swat. She buzzed and pouted. Her husband and family materialized. A typical pixie debate commenced. The subject, Melondie’s drinking, got lost in the general uproar.
Tinnie opened up, sheepish and defiant. I grumbled, “I hope we aren’t headed there.” I jerked a thumb at the wee folk. “It isn’t sport to me.”
Shaking his head, Silverman eased past Tinnie. He didn’t fail to note her fine points. As usual, she did fail to note his appreciation.
We met Dean and Singe in the hall. They carried an array of refreshments. Silverman’s good opinion was important to my resident stiff.
Silverman wasn’t intimidated by the Loghyr. Maybe, like the Dead Man, he had roots so deep in time nothing bothered him anymore. He settled into my chair. His eyes widened when Old Bones made contact. He didn’t react otherwise. He built a complicated cup of tea, sipped, relaxed, asked, “Now, sir, why did you lure me away from my art?”
Old Bones meant to have fun with it. Whatever it was. He didn’t include me in the conversation. I soothed my bruised feelings by easing over to Tinnie, where I got some exercise getting my hands slapped.
Chuckles stopped that. Silverman is a jeweler, Garrett. A custom designer of uniquely powerful pieces. Shall I have him create something special for you two?
Panic.
Amusement from the realm of the dead.
Sigh of relief from me once I understood that Tinnie hadn’t caught any of that.
But I could include her.
“I’ll be good.”
More amusement.
I have to get over this, somehow.
Silverman didn’t say much. The Dead Man answered his questions before he articulated them.
Singe got the expense ledger and cashbox. I caught the twinkle of noble metal as she put money into Silverman’s wrinkled pale hand. Under instruction, of course. Then, not under instruction, she sidled over to show me the inside of the cashbox.
It contained a handful of gritty green copper and two cracked, blackened silver pieces of indeterminate but exaggerated age. The kings could no longer be recognized.
“I knew it! What have I been telling you all? You people have finally done it!”
Quiet. You will recover your investment. In time. Ah. At long last. I had no trouble sensing his relief. Plainly, he’d been worried about something. Stand by to answer the door.
“And make sure Melondie doesn’t get in. I can’t afford to support her bad habit.”
You go, Garrett. Take your stick.
“She gonna be that much problem?”
Do not be contrary. It does not become you. The stick is a precaution, unlikely to be needed. That wasn’t reassuring, even so.
I was going to be a whole lot contrary for a big long time. They really were spending me into the poorhouse.
I did as he suggested. The situation, of course, wasn’t as bad as my instructions implied. Dean didn’t show up trying to figure out how to work his crossbow.
75
I was speechless. A state apparently desirable, if some can be credited.
Tap-tap-tapping was the A-Laf deacon Old Bones had cut loose. Looking determined but bewildered. Like someone naturally slow on the uptake valiantly pressing forward in life. With him was a matched pair of bruisers, mortified by having to appear publicly in disguise. Twins, distraught because they couldn’t wear their signature ugly pants.
There’d been guys like that in the Corps. The uniform helped them define who they were. Without it they became rudderless.
Will you cease dallying? Time is critical. Colonel Block’s minions have noted their arrival. Someone may want to investigate.
“Wouldn’t mind finding out what — Move it!
Whoa! Somebody was getting cranky. I moved it, not without sulking.
The Ugly Pants crew entered without pleasantries. With a “My feelings are bruised just by being here” kind of attitude.
I grumbled, “I might be a little better motivated if I knew what the hell you were up to.”
I am trying to wrap this neatly, with maximum benefit to all. Before the advent of the new millennium. Bring them here. Today.
Sometimes you’ve just got to go along and see what happens.
I herde
d the daft deacon and his water buffalo into the presence. “Anything else you need? Dancing girls? Tinnie might come stumble around. Or can we get to the point?”
I wonder if that samsom weed might not he coming back on you again.
That was a thought. I did my best to ignore it. But there could’ve been something to it.
The A-Laf deacon went straight to Silverman. One of the big boys placed a box in the old man’s lap. Silverman produced a loupe. He opened the box.
I jumped.
The casket contained a nickel dog. A pup. All right! A jackal. This one wasn’t charged, though. It was just a hunk of metal. Silverman studied the critter. Then he stared at the Dead Man.
Then he studied the statue again. “It will be difficult. But I enjoy a challenge. Especially work in unusual metals. This won’t be enough material, though.”
Voice barely audible, the deacon said, “More is available.” He was cooperating only because he wasn’t strong enough to fight the Dead Man.
“I need ten more pounds,” Silverman said. “Preferably in small pieces.” Responding to a query from the Dead Man, who hadn’t included me. He was amusing himself. Getting back. All that juvenile —
Garrett!
I responded with a scowl. But I paid attention.
Accompany Deacon Osgood and his associates. Make certain they move the necessary materials to Silverman’s workshop. Stick with Deacon Osgood until he has executed his commitment in full.
“Hey, all right.” I confess to a certain sarcasm. “You gonna bother telling me how I’ll know when he has? There’s always a chance — remote as the moon, naturally, but statistically possible — that I won’t figure it out for myself.”
Deacon Osgood is going to surrender A-Lafs despair confiscation system. Mr. Silverman will make modifications. Deacon Osgood and his henchmen are not pleased, but have spent enough time in our forward-looking city to appreciate the enthusiasm of the Watch.
He was smug. Proud of himself. And likely twisting everything to make a certain defunct Loghyr look like an ingenious trouble tamer.