Bitter Gold Hearts

by Glen Cook

  Gameleon yelled, “No!” Then he screamed a long, chilly one. I wouldn’t believe anybody had that much breath in him. He went slack.

  “So much for him. For now. Baronet? How about you? Want to sing your song?”

  Hell no, he didn’t. His old lady was sitting right there. She’d have his nachos on a platter.

  She said, “Karl, whatever you’re thinking, the alterna­tive will be worse.” She raised her left hand again. A few sparks flew. He flinched, whimpered. She dropped her hand into her lap, smiled a cruel smile. “I’d do it, too, you know.” And she would. I was convinced.

  There were some bleak faces in that place.

  I looked at Gameleon, at daPena, at Domina Dount, at Amber, who sincerely regretted having come. Poor old Skredli was damning himself for not running instead of trying to make a last score.

  Donni Pell... Well, I concentrated on the spider woman for the first time. I had avoided that because even I, a bit, was subject to whatever made her so dangerous.

  She didn’t look dangerous. She was a small woman, fair, well into her twenties, but with one of those marvelous faces and complexions that make some small, fair women look adolescent for years beyond their time. She was pretty without being beautiful. Even ragged, filthy, and abused, she had a certain something that touched both the father and the lech in a man, a something that made a man want to protect and possess. I don’t play with little girls, but I know the feeling a man can get looking at a ripening fifteen-year-old.

  In my time I have encountered several Donni Pells. They are conscious of what they do to men — manipulate it like hell. The sensual frenzy is balanced by manipulat­ing the fatherly urge as well. Usually they come across as being empty between the ears, too. In desperate need of protection.

  Donni Pell, I suppose, was an artist, having turned an essentially patriarchal society’s stereotype of a woman’s role into a bludgeon with which she worked her will upon the male race. She was still trying to do it, bound and gagged. Under it all she was tough. As hard and heartless as a Morley Dotes, who might qualify as the male counterpart of a Donni Pell. Skredli and his boys hadn’t broken through.

  The Stormwarden said, “Will you get on with it, Mr. Garrett?”

  “I’m trying to decide where to poke the hornet’s nest. Right now these people have no incentives.”

  “How about staying alive?” She rose and joined me. “Somebody here had Amiranda killed. Somebody here had my son killed. Somebody here is going to pay for that. Maybe a lot of somebody’s if the innocent don’t convince me of their lack of guilt. How’s that for motiva­tion, Mr. Garrett?”

  “Excellent. If you can convince a couple men who figure their place in the world entitles them to immunity from justice.”

  “Justice has nothing to do with it. Stark, bloody, scream­ing, agonizing vengeance is what I’m talking about. I’m not concerned about political repercussions. I no longer care if I get pulled down.”

  Her intensity convinced me. I looked at her husband and Gameleon. DaPena was convinced, too. But Game­leon was holding his own. Softly, I said, “Courter Slauce.”

  Equally softly, the Stormwarden replied, “I haven’t forgotten him. Continue.”

  I scanned them all again — then turned on Domina Dount. “You feel like modifying anything you’ve said before?”

  She looked blankly at me.

  “I don’t think you’re directly responsible for any deaths, Domina. But you helped turn a scam into something deadly.”

  She shivered. Willa Dount shivered! She was ready to break. The blood had reached her when she’d had to see it firsthand. Amber sensed it, too. Despite the state of her nerves, she glared at me. I winked.

  “Nobody wants to kick in?”

  Nobody volunteered to save himself.

  “All right. I’ll reconstruct. Correct me if I get it wrong, or if you want somebody else to get the shaft.”

  “Mr. Garrett.”

  “Right, Stormwarden. So. It started a long time ago, in a house on the Hill, when a woman who shouldn’t have had children did so.”

  “Mr. Garrett!”

  “My contract is for a job done without interference, Stormwarden. I was going to walk lightly. But since you’re impatient, I’ll just spit it out. You made life such hell for them that your whole family was ready to do anything to get away. Nobody worked up the guts to try till you went to the Cantard, though. It’s unlikely any­body would have then if your husband hadn’t, in the course of continued unwanted attentions, gotten Amiranda pregnant.”

  Amber glared daggers. Domina Dount squeaked. The Stormwarden glared, too, but only because I was making public something she already suspected. The Baronet fainted.

  “As soon as she knew, Amiranda went to the only friend she had, your son. They cooked up a scheme to save her from shame and get them both away from a house they loathed. Junior would get kidnapped. They would use the ransom to start a new life.

  “But they couldn’t work it out by themselves. They wanted it to look so real the Stormwarden Raver Styx would believe that her son had been done in by dishonor­able villains. Why? Because whatever else they felt, the daPena brats loved their father and didn’t want him crucified. They wanted to cover for him.”

  “Mr. Garrett —”

  “I’m going to do it my way, Stormwarden.” I faced Donni Pell. “They couldn’t pull it off without help. So Junior went to his girlfriend. She said she’d arrange ev­erything. And things started going wrong right away, because Donni Pell can’t do anything straight.

  “She told the guys she hired what was happening, figuring she could work it for a profit. She told the Baronet, figuring she could get something out of him. She told Lord Gameleon, maybe. Or maybe he got it from another direction. There are several ways he could have known.

  “Donni planned to do the stunt using ogres who were stealing from the daPena warehouse and selling to Gameleon. That was a big screw-up. Domina Dount already had Junior investigating shortages at the ware­house.” I spoke directly to Donni. “And you knew it.

  “Meanwhile, Karl Senior let Domina Dount in on the news.”

  Willa Dount registered an inarticulate protest.

  “Karl got grabbed on schedule and taken here, where Donni grew up. Then Willa Dount, to keep it looking good at her erid, asked me to put my stamp of approval on what she was doing to get him back. The kidnappers thought I’d been hired to poke into the warehouse busi­ness. They tried to convince me to keep out.

  “Now it gets confusing as to who did what to who and why. None of the principals understood what they were doing because they were all being pulled in several direc­tions. Everybody at the Stormwarden’s house thought they had a chance for a big hit and a break with Raver Styx. Everybody outside saw the big hit. But the preg­nancy and warehouse might come out if the kidnapping was investigated. Junior had to be sent home and kept quiet so the trails could get stale before the Stormwarden got back. But then I was suddenly in the middle of the thing. Nobody knew what I was doing, and I wouldn’t go away.

  “So. The ransom demand was made. The delivery was set. Domina raised the money. And Amiranda, who sensed that it wasn’t going according to plan, headed for her rendezvous with Junior.

  “But Donni had gotten other folks involved. And they fancied a hunk of ransom. The hell with the kid. What could he do? Go cry to his mother?

  “But Karl Senior, who figured to get half of Donni’s half of the ransom, warned her that Ami was tough enough to blow the whole thing.” I glared at the Bar­onet. He was awake now, and bone white. “So Donni arranged for Ami to do what she had planned: disappear forever. I guess Junior was supposed to think it was Ami who left him without his share.”

  Donni Pell made noise and shook her head. The Stormwarden stared at her with the intensity of a snake sizing up supper. I didn’t know if I had that part right. Amiranda’s death, otherwise, benefited no one but the Baronet. But I couldn’t figure him for the order. He wouldn�
��t have done it for his piddling share of the ransom. Or maybe he never got it, because he hadn’t made tracks when he should have had cash in hand.

  I glared into Donni’s eyes. “You going to tell us who wanted the girl killed? Or are you just going to tell us it wasn’t you?”

  She had a very dry throat. I don’t think anybody heard her but me. “It was the kid. He said —”

  I don’t bash women often. When I backhanded her I told myself it was because she wasn’t one. Not in the lady sense. With her talent she might have sold the idea to some­body. But I’d been back and forth with it from the beginning, and if there was one thing I’d learned from it all, it was that the son wasn’t guilty of that one. His big crime was stupidity compounded by gutlessness.

  “Better come up with a more likely sacrifice, kid. Or you’re it.”

  The trouble with Donni Pell was that she had no han­dles. She knew exactly where she stood and exactly what her chances were. She was the only person alive who really knew what had happened. I could guess, and spout, and maybe come close, but I couldn’t get more than seventy-five percent.

  The Stormwarden said, “Mr. Garrett, I’m willing to be patient in the extreme, but this approach isn’t unmasking anything. With what you’ve already given me I’ve reached several conclusions. One: that my brother-in-law, Lord Gameleon, for reasons he considered adequate, had my son killed. In his instance my only interest is to deter­mine the extent to which my husband had knowledge of that and was involved in the effort to financially weaken me by siphoning my sources of income.”

  She wasn’t stupid. And just because she wasn’t in the trade didn’t mean she had to be blind. “All right. I would’ve gotten to that eventually. I was hoping friend Donni would nail it down when the flood started.”

  “There won’t be a flood with her, Mr. Garrett. You know that. The woman has the soul of a... a...”

  At a loss for words? I would have suggested “Stormwarden” to fill her metaphor, but she was already unhappy with me. It was no time to press my luck.

  She said, “I’m also certain that my husband killed Courter Slauce. That much detecting I could manage myself. He was away from the house when it happened. He left on Slauce’s heels, in a panic according to the men on the gate.”

  The Baronet tried to protest. Nobody listened. I asked,

  “Why?”

  “Slauce knew something. Karl was frightened enough to murder him to keep him from telling you. Courter would have been easy for him. Comparatively. Karl hated the man, and Slauce wouldn’t have felt he was in any danger from such a coward. That leaves Amiranda.”

  __LIV__

  Who DID kill Amiranda Crest? It was the question of the case. I’d begun to sus­pect we’d never get an answer. Only one person knew — maybe — and he or she wasn’t talking.

  “I have a suggestion, Mr. Garrett,” the Stormwarden said in a tone that made it clear it was a command. “You take your friends, and the ogre, and Amber, and go back to TunFaire. I’ll finish here. When you’ve settled your accounts, bring the ogre to my home.”

  From the corner of my eye I caught Morley making a little jabbing motion with his thumb. He thought it was time to go and he was probably right. I said, “You were going to work on our wounds.”

  “Yes.” No sooner said than done. Crask and Sadler were awed. With Saucerhead’s help they grabbed Skredli and dragged him out the front door. He hollered and carried on like he thought the Stormwarden was going to save him.

  “Into the carriage,” I told them.

  Morley raised an eyebrow and jerked his head toward the house.

  “Her problem. You, get down,” I told the man who had driven down the the Stormwarden and Willa Dount. “Amber. Get up on the seat. No. Don’t argue. Just do it. Shut him up, Saucerhead.” The Stormwarden’s man backed away from us, looking at me like he was looking death in the eye. He went around the side of the house instead of going inside. “Sadler, you drive. Crask, keep the ogre under control.”

  They gave me dark looks. I didn’t care. I wanted words with Morley and Saucerhead as we walked up the slope.

  “Roll.”

  They rolled. We trudged along behind. I looked back once. The Stormwarden’s man was headed across the clearing. Evidently he understood what was going on and wanted to be far away.

  Morley spoke first. “I don’t like the way she took over all of a sudden, Garrett.”

  And Saucerhead, “You don’t ever want to go to her place again.”

  “She’d hand me my head. I know.” We walked until we reached the woods. I told Sadler to stop. “You guys understand what was happening down there? What the old bitch was thinking?”

  Crask knew. “She’s going to rub them. Then she’s going to arrange something for us because she don’t want nobody around who knows she did it to guys like her old man and Gameleon.”

  I looked up at Amber. She wanted to argue, but she shivered. After a moment, she said, “I think I saw the change come over her before you did, Garrett. What are you going to do?”

  “If we took a vote, none of us would go for letting her do what she wants.”

  Morley said, “Kill them all and let the gods sort them out.”

  Saucerhead said, “It isn’t like they’re innocent. Except maybe the Dount woman.”

  “Amber. Where will Willa Dount stand?”

  “I don’t know. She’s been into things like this with Mother before. Mother would trust her to keep her mouth shut. But Mother seemed a little crazy. She might include Willa with the others. She had to be guilty of something, even if she didn’t kill anybody.”

  “Yeah. She was guilty of a lot. But not the killings. I don’t think.”

  Friend Skredli flopped in the back of the carriage. A scream came from the farmhouse. “Gameleon,” Morley said. “I figured she’d start with him.”

  “She’ll stay with him for a long time. Amber. Do you see the position we’re in?”

  She didn’t want to.

  “Your mother plans to kill those people, then kill us so we can’t accuse her,” I reiterated. “Right?”

  Weakly, “Yes. I think so.”

  “What options does that leave us?”

  She shrugged.

  I let her stew it awhile. “You think she thinks we’re dumb enough not to see that?”

  Nobody thought that. Skredli thumped around again. Nobody paid any attention.

  “Does she think we’ll go back to town and try to insure ourselves? Or does she figure we’ll do something about it now?”

  “How well does she know us?” Morley asked.

  “I don’t know. She told me she checked me out when she hired me.”

  “She expects us to move now, Garrett.”

  Saucerhead said, “She’ll never be more vulnerable.”

  Amber snapped, “Wait a damned minute!”

  “Sweetheart, you said yourself —”

  “I know. But you can’t —”

  “You think we should let her hunt us down instead?”

  “You could get out of TunFaire. You could —”

  “So could she. But she won’t. And neither will we. TunFaire is home. Crask. Sadler. What do you think?”

  They huddled and muttered for half a minute. Crask elected himself spokesman. “You’re right. We’re in it with you for whatever you have to do. If it looks practical.”

  Gameleon had stopped yelling. He’d probably passed out. After a pause, the Baronet took up the song. I moved downhill a little, to where I could see the farm­house. “I wish I knew more about her skills. Can she tell we’re up here? Does she know exactly where we are?” I looked at Amber.

  “Don’t expect me to help you, Garrett. Even if she does plan murder.”

  I surveyed the others. They were waiting on me. “I have a suggestion. You take the carriage and go home. Or to my house, if you want. Then you won’t be in­volved. You won’t know anything.”

  “I’ll know who came home.”

&n
bsp; “But that’s all you’ll know. Get along now. Saucerhead, drag the ogre out before she leaves. You can drive the damned thing, can’t you, Amber?”

  “I’m not completely helpless, Garrett.”

  “Scoot, then.”

  She scooted.

  ***

  The Baronet had stopped yelling. Donni Pell was tun­ing up. I said, “We’ve got to assume she knows we’re here. It makes no sense to bet the other way.”

  “Crask asked, “So how you figure to get to her?”

  “Something will come to one of us.”

  Morley gave me a hard look. It said he knew I had something in mind already. I did, but the seed hadn’t yet sprouted.

  “It’s going to be dark soon,” Saucerhead predicted. “That what you’re waiting for?”

  “Maybe. Let’s have a chat with friend Skredli.”

  We set him up against a tree. The others stood behind me, baffled, as I squatted. “Here we are again, Skredli. Me with an idea how you can get out of this with your butt still attached.”

  He didn’t believe there was any such idea. I wouldn’t have in his place.

  “I’m going to give you a chance to bail me out of a jam. You do it, the worst off you can be is with a head start from here to the farmhouse. I hear you can pick them up and put them down when you want.”

  A flicker of interest betrayed itself. “Untie him while I explain,” I said. “He’ll need to get loosened up.”

  Saucerhead did the honors, not gently.

  “Here it is, Skredli. You go down in the field and get your buddies loose. Then you hit the Stormwarden. Take her out. Then give a holler and light out. I have business in that house so I won’t be after you. No promises about Saucerhead, but you’ll have your head start.”

  He looked at me hard.

  “What do you say?” I asked stonily.

  “I don’t like it.”

  “How does it stack up against your current chances?”

  I never knew an ogre with a sense of humor. Skredli stunned me when he said, “You talked me into it, you smooth-talking son of a bitch.”