Wicked Bronze Ambition

by Glen Cook

  I told Piet, “That’s my place there where the coach is standing.”

  Nervous, he asked, “Does that belong to who I think it belongs to?”

  “If you mean the queenpin, yes.” Smug me. I’d made up a word to describe Belinda.

  Her father, Chodo, had been called the kingpin.

  “I heard you was friends.”

  “Sort of. Pretty iffy. It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll buy you a beer sometime.” The offer was a sideways apology for his lapse the day Strafa died.

  “Deal. And I’ll buy you one back. Actually, we could go through a keg before I get it all told.” And, as he brought the coach to the curb behind Belinda’s rig, “You don’t need to feel bad. You didn’t do wrong that day.”

  “I know. Up here.” He smacked his forehead. “If we stood where we was and then fifty, sixty people died over yonder because we wasn’t there to pull them out, fuginagy, we’d have our asses in a sling big-time, anyway. For negligence or misprision or some damned thing they made up on account of somebody who don’t count has got to pay. But . . .”

  “Yeah. But. It keeps eating on me, too, Piet. So. Here’s something you can do to help. I don’t know how much, but it’s something. Go see Barate Algarda. Tell him what we talked about. Tell him he should find out if anybody really looked into those explosions.”

  “Sure. And good luck.” Mariska was getting loud. Her confidence must have gotten a boost. “You might need it.”

  “Thanks.” I would need it less than he feared.

  I had a secret weapon called ignorance.

  Mariska hadn’t been told where we were headed. Once she found out that she was in range of the Dead Man . . .

  She screamed like a scalded baby.

  Not happy, our Moonslight.

  She panicked. She tried to run.

  That didn’t work. A lot of people helped take that option away.

  92

  Belinda was still inside her wagon. She wasn’t alone. Morley shared the space, unhappily. They were waiting there because Penny wouldn’t let anybody inside while Singe was away. Why they bothered to stay was never clear. Maybe it was a place where they could bicker without being seen.

  They had not had a pleasant wait. I saw that right away. They were butting alpha wills again, presumably. Neither volunteered an explanation.

  I said, “Singe will have the door open in two shakes. Dean will have something to warm you up.”

  Reassurances didn’t help. Some folks you can’t please.

  “I’ll ask if he can’t send something out for your guys, too, Belinda.” Not so much being thoughtful as reminding her that others had it less pleasant than she did.

  A waste. That sociopath thing again. That inability to empathize.

  Morley peeked past the edge of a curtain. “The door is open.”

  Sure enough. And there was Penny, hands on hips, unhappy because the cold and damp were creeping in. Because wet dogs and wetter people were crowding her, fouling the hallway.

  Morley began to chuckle as we got in line.

  “What?” Belinda and I both demanded.

  “Garrett, you’re finally living the dream.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What you daydreamed about when you were a kid has finally come to pass.”

  “I’m still lost.”

  He shook his head, chuckled some more. “You wanted your own harem. And now you’ve got one.”

  His expansive gesture as we stamped the water off us on the stoop included not only Singe, Penny, and Hagekagome, down the hallway greeting the all-girl dog team, but also a set of twins who pretended to be in heat most of the time.

  Belinda began to snicker, too. “A harem for Garrett. It’s precious. Jon Salvation could make it into a play.”

  Winger and Saucerhead leaned out of my old office, sleepily curious about the sudden racket. They were a dismal-looking pair. One nodded to herself and pulled back, no doubt resuming what she considered a well-deserved nap.

  “He’d write a real tragedy if he put those two in it.” I grinned for a moment. I can be a humble, self-effacing kind of guy, but could not long forget that this moment existed only because my wife had been murdered.

  Penny scattered rags and threadbare carpets to protect the hallway floor. Even the insensitive Machtkess sisters tried to avoid dripping everywhere. Which left only the dogs. . . .

  Hagekagome used the shreds of an ancient towel with one hand and loved her doggie friends with the rest of her.

  She spotted me. Her face lit up. She jumped up and charged, excited as a puppy, smashed into me, pounded my chest a few times with her little fists, then just clung. She didn’t tell me how much she hated me.

  We got plenty of stares. I looked back at everybody, silently begging for advice. Tara Chayne gave me a nod, a reminder to be nice and gentle. Nobody else seemed particularly concerned, though Penny treated herself to a mild sulk. So I just hugged with my right arm and patted Hagekagome’s back with my left hand while I tried to figure out what the hell was happening.

  Whatever that might be, Brownie and the girls approved.

  Mariska revealed a catalogue of expressions, beginning with bewildered and circling back round to much the same thing. She started out focused on one particularly handsome former Royal Marine and finished fixed on the supernaturally beautiful but weird kid clinging to him.

  I couldn’t help observing, “Something changed while I was gone.”

  “She got it together some,” Penny said. “She still doesn’t make a lot of sense, but at least she’s confused in plain Karentine. So. Can you people move inside far enough for me to shut the door on the weather?”

  Cold, damp air nipped the back of my neck.

  Singe said, “Everyone into the office, please.” Grimly reluctant. They would track in grime and moisture. Belinda and Morley looked like they wanted to change their minds about visiting but could not come up with a plausible excuse for having wasted the time they had already.

  I eased Hagekagome off me, patting her head. Damn, she was beautiful, and it looked like she had matured some in the past few days. She’d be melting guys into slack-jawed puddles with a smile in another week.

  She allowed herself to be peeled, went back to Brownie and the girls. Those four seemed thrilled by events. They congratulated their friend.

  I checked Penny. She shrugged. I asked, “Any change in there?” with a nod toward the Dead Man’s room. “Or there?” In the direction Tharpe and Winger had vanished.

  “No. And no. Dean says not to expect anything there for a long time. The big woman is way out of it, but those two in there with her . . . They eat like pigs getting ready for winter.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “I should go help Dean. You should close the door.”

  Most of the crowd had moved into Singe’s office. They would presume upon my hospitality, too, also storing fat for hard times.

  Dean had as much experience with Old Bones as I did. His estimate would be good. I had no time to check on Himself. There were invaders in my establishment who had no need to know the true situation.

  Before leaving to wrangle guests, Singe asked Penny, “Did anyone bring reports this morning?”

  “There’s always somebody banging on the door. Dean said don’t let nobody in but you or Garrett. We can’t be sure who our friends really are. So I ignored everybody.”

  Morley awarded that a surly growl.

  Dean was getting all cynical and paranoid. Probably a good thing now, though it might impede the flow of information.

  I asked, “Did you check the peephole?”

  “You know what? I did. Every time I heard somebody out there.”

  Smart-ass.

  “I made a list. I put it on Singe’s desk.”

  Singe suggested, “Why don’t you two come into the office, too? We will shoehorn you in. Those watching outside will inform interested parties that we are home and may be available.”

 
93

  I was thinking that most of what we had others doing had become redundant when, serendipitous, there came a discreet knock. Sourly, still not having fled to Dean’s realm, Penny went to the door. I produced a head knocker, in case, while Singe conjured a kendo sword out of nothingness. Those things are supposed to be for play and practice, but you don’t want to be on the downhill end without protective gear. As the Block and Relway vision takes hold, more and more people carry them for self-defense.

  Even rat people get away with that. It will be interesting to see the legal weaseling after some offended rat man applies one to a particularly obnoxious human bully.

  I wondered where Singe got her martial toys and when she found time to learn how to use them.

  Ever the wonder child, that girl.

  Penny announced, “It’s an old lady.”

  “Old lady?” What now? Other than Shadowslinger, all the old ladies in this mess were already on hand.

  Then Penny said, “And here comes somebody else. It’s one of those weird guys from your other place.”

  “Let me see.”

  She was right. There was a woman out there. Old, I’m not sure she would accept. Maybe just starting to sneak down the back slope of forty. Definitely not as elderly as Penny’s tone implied. But, then, the girl was just getting some traction on her teens. Everybody was old to her.

  The woman turned, said something to Dex. He replied. I couldn’t hear what. It was obvious, though, that Dex was agitated. He was wet and unhappy about that, too. I said, “Stand by, folks. I’m letting them in.”

  The would-be visitors were facing the door when I opened it, Dex behind the woman. She was maybe five feet two, down there around mom size. Anxious Dex barely kept from running her over when she awaited an invitation to step forward. I had a passing thought about malicious sprites and vampires.

  Dex glanced behind him and growled. He was not fond of weather.

  “Do come in,” said I, pretending I was the butler. Back by the kitchen door the man who actually butled occasionally, who had stepped out to check on the fresh commotion and maybe to see what was keeping Penny, began shaking his head. He returned to the kitchen to start another gallon of tea.

  The woman was in no rush. Dex, however, was. I gestured. “Penny, please take the lady into the office and make her comfortable while l try to save Dex from a galloping case of the panics.”

  Penny bobbed her head to the woman and gestured toward the office door. “Ma’am.”

  Dex protested, “I don’t have a galloping case of anything.”

  Muted sounds of dismay came from inside the office, Mariska and Tara Chayne distressed. I was right when I guessed the newcomer to be Orchidia Hedley-Farfoul.

  There was some thumping from the sickroom at the same time. Winger cursed at Saucerhead.

  “Then why are you in such a big rush that you had to be pushy-rude to the Black Orchid?”

  Dex started to contradict his employer but realized that he would do so in an employment-unfriendly economy—and, more importantly, the name I’d dropped hit bottom and clattered around in the tin bowl of his mind.

  Elsewhere, Saucerhead cursed Winger back. They sounded like a couple of ten-year-olds. I couldn’t make out what the fuss was about.

  Dex’s mouth worked like that of a bass out of water. “I got it. Deep breaths. Dex Man calming down.” Apropos of nothing, apparently, he added, “The wind snatched my umbrella when I was on my way over here.”

  “It has been a bit gusty,” I conceded. “Are you calm enough to explain? Because I do have that other guest to attend to.” I was still standing there with the door cracked half a foot, letting cold air in while trying to make out what a couple bearing a striking resemblance to Preston Womble and Elona Muriat were doing.

  Singe’s office had gone as silent as a grave—till Penny yelled, “Will you shut that godsdamn door? We’re freezing in here.”

  Dean came out of the kitchen with his cart. Teacups, our biggest pot, cookies, and a platter of little sandwiches graced its top. He awarded Hagekagome and the mutts a fine scowl. They got out of his way with a maneuver so deft it looked rehearsed. The girl asked Dean if he wanted her to help. Dean allowed as how that was thoughtful of her and yes, he certainly could use some assistance.

  That was Dean Creech being gentle, empathetic Dean, including the challenged kid, making her part of something bigger than the canine tribe.

  “Dex?” Dex had witnessed and understood. Dex beamed at Dean.

  Dex would have spent much of his life being excluded.

  94

  Saucerhead and Winger started cursing again. It sounded like somebody slugged somebody.

  Penny yelled at me about the door. Again.

  Dex opened his mouth, finally about to get to the reason why he had come to the house.

  Vicious Min bulled out of my old office in a ferocious drunken stagger, hunched over, with Tharpe on her back and dragging Winger by the left ankle. That was a sight, Winger being as big as me. Min banged herself and Winger off the doorframe, hard. Saucerhead hung on despite getting banged against the overhead for being stubborn. Min’s face had taken a serious beating. Saucerhead’s, too.

  He kept punching. Min tried to smash him against the ceiling. His eyes crossed, but he kept on keeping on.

  And that is what made Saucerhead famous. He could take anything and keep on scrapping.

  So could Vicious Min.

  She headed my way, scattering Dean and his cart. The dogs went crazy when she shoved Hagekagome.

  I still had the head knocker handy. And still had the door held open. I realized that and tried to do something about it at a time when I should have been concentrating on getting some serious oomph on my stick.

  Things didn’t work out.

  Min brushed my stick aside and trampled me in a single drunken stagger. I sat down to bleed. Min flung the door wide. Rain blew in. She blew out, still dragging Winger, who never stopped screeching. She did scrape Saucerhead off on this doorframe. He fell on me, twitching some. Min realized she still had hold of Winger, let her go as she reached the bottom of my steps. Winger lay moaning in the rain.

  All through the action growling, nipping dogs participated in the excitement, making the footing difficult for all two-leggers still standing. They might have continued the chase if Hagekagome hadn’t gotten herself together and called them back. Then she got busy trying to lever Saucerhead off the two-thirds of me that he had buried.

  I was dizzy but did glimpse a white-faced Dex pressed into the wall by Singe’s office doorway, unharmed but shaken. His eyes rolled up. He sagged.

  People from Singe’s office broke up a clog in that doorway, came out babbling questions so vigorously that they frightened Hagekagome all over again. I got hold of her hand, which had an instant calming effect. Helping hands moved us against the wall, me, Hagekagome, and Dex, with Dean on the other side of Singe’s office doorway. Saucerhead came next; then a gang of cursing souls conspired to ferry Winger back inside and into my old office, where the sorceresses among us employed such healing skills as they possessed.

  Winger had suffered a concussion. She had bruises and abrasions everywhere. She had some broken bones—and yet I didn’t doubt that she would be good as new before long. She was almost as resilient as Saucerhead.

  I couldn’t say the same for the old dread who was so critical to the Macunado household. Even an idiot should now realize that none of that would have happened had the Dead Man been on the job.

  Singe and Tara Chayne both told me not to worry about Min getting away. No way could she get far or evade pursuit. She was too easy to spot and too weak to endure. Morley and Belinda agreed from behind those two, just nodding.

  Then Orchidia took a knee in front of me. “I believe I’ve learned all I needed to know here, sir, excepting what I may be able to get from the woman who just left. I’ll go find her. I have one chore to handle after that. Then I’ll stop back and let you know what she
had to say.”

  Oh, such confidence. I wish I had that knack.

  She reached up, squeezed my shoulder the way Barate had one time, then gently tousled Hagekagome’s lustrous hair. “You’re such a good girl. You really are. Take good care of him.”

  Hagekagome was, at the moment, squeezed up tight against me on my left, head against my shoulder, hanging on to my arm with both hands, still shaking. She responded to Orchidia with an explosively huge smile and vigorous nodding.

  Dean got his feet back under him. He drafted Penny to help pick up. Several others joined in. Some genius found sense enough to finally shut the door. And good old Dex finally began to pull himself together.

  95

  Dex wasn’t all with us yet. He said, “Yes. Of course. Bad news brings me here. Bad, bad news.” He had lost some perceived time. “Only I found more badness already cooking here.”

  “And I’m going to have to squeeze it out of you. Right?”

  “Yes. No! I’m sorry. I’m totally frayed . . . I don’t know . . . Damn! There I go!”

  Gently as I could I began removing dogs and pretty girls so I could go for his throat. Morley stepped between us and helped Dex up. He suggested, “You really must get to it.”

  “It’s Feder, Mr. Garrett, sir! Master Kyoga’s son. He and his friend Konshei were killed during the night. They went to a place they had no business being at their ages, particularly in current circumstances. The witnesses the Specials caught said a monster broke in. Six people were killed besides the boys. Also something that might have been Feder’s Dread Companion. It was big with scaly green skin before it was torn apart. Parts were missing, including the head. The monster also left pieces behind, so it didn’t get off easy.”

  I heard a soft scuff, glanced toward Singe’s office. Mariska and Tara Chayne stood in the doorway, both stricken, probably not for the same reasons.