by Glen Cook
I said, "I take it you think something is about to happen down there."
Perhaps. And the news may be less than favorable to those who find hope in Mooncalled's mutiny. Both Karenta and Venageta have kept the pressure on but have not run blind into his traps. His native support appears to be dwindling. You mentioned spotting a centaur family today. A few months ago centaurs were Mooncalled's most devoted allies, vowing to fight till they were extinct if that was the price of ending foreign domination of the Cantard.
I hadn't thought about the political implications of a centaur presence here. Did it mean negotiations for a sellout? Usually I turn a deaf ear to such speculation. I have the romantic, silly idea that if I ignore politics steadfastly, maybe politicians will ignore me. You'd think I'd have learned after having spent five years helping kill people on behalf of politicians.
Don't tell anybody on the Hill, but I—like almost everybody who doesn't live up there—have rooted for Glory Mooncalled in my secret heart. If he actually manages the impossible and hangs on, he'll break the backs of the ruling classes of both of the world's greatest kingdoms. In Karenta's case that could mean the collapse of the state and either the return of the imperials from exile or evolution into something entirely new and unique, built upon a mixture of races.
Enough. Whatever happens on the Hill, or in the Cantard, it won't change my life. There'll always be bad guys for me to chase.
You had better get on your horse.
"Yuk! Don't even mention those monsters." I hate horses. They hate me. I think there's a good chance they'll get me before the kingpin does. "I'm on my way."
15
Morley Dotes's Joy House is only a short way from my place, but by the time you get there you wonder if you haven't fallen through a hole into another world. In my neighborhood—though it's not the best—the nonhumans and baddies are mostly passing through. In Morley's, the Safety Zone, they're there all the time.
TunFaire is a human city, but just about every other species has an area of its own staked out. Some are a quarter unto themselves, like Ogre Town or Ratman Creek. Some occupy only one tenement. Even though individuals may live anywhere in town, somewhere there's a home turf that's fiercely defended. There's a lot of prejudice and a lot of friction and some races have a talent for that which makes our human bent toward prejudice look wimpy. Thus the Safety Zone evolved, of its own accord, as an area where the races can mix in relative peace, because business has to get done.
Morley's place is right in the heart of the zone, which seems to have gelled around it. It was always a favorite hangout for baddies who mix, before the zone became an accepted idea. Morley is becoming a minor power. I've heard he's turned into a sort of judge who arbitrates interracial disputes.
Useful, but he'd better not get too ambitious. Chodo might feel threatened.
Chodo only tolerates Morley now because he owes him. Morley spiffed his predecessor and created a job opening at the top. But Chodo remains wary, maybe even nervous. What Morley did once he might do again, and there's no more sure an assassin than Morley Dotes.
Killing people is Morley's real line. The Joy House started out as cover. He never expected the place to become a success and probably didn't want it to.
Thus do the fates conspire to shape our lives.
It was getting on dusky, with the first morCartha out reconnoitering, as I approached Morley's place. "Well," I muttered unhappily as I turned into the street that runs past the Joy House. And "Yeah, hello," as a couple of overdeveloped bruisers fell into step beside me. "How's the world treating you guys?"
Both frowned as though trying to work through a problem too difficult for either. Then Sadler materialized out of shadow and relieved them of the frightful and unaccustomed task of thinking. Sadler said, "Good timing, Garrett. Chodo wants to see you."
They must have seen me coming. "Yeah. I suspected." A big black coach stood in front of Morley's. I knew it better than I liked. I'd ridden in it. It belonged to that well-known philanthropist, Chodo Contague. "He's here? Chodo?" He never leaves his mansion.
Crask appeared, completed the set. I had me bookends who would strangle their own mothers not only without a qualm but who wouldn't recall it a day later with any more remorse than recalling stomping a roach. Bad, bad people, Crask and Sadler. I wish I didn't, but whenever I run into them I waste half my little brain worrying about how bad they are.
I'm glad they don't make a lot like them.
Crask said, "Chodo wants to talk, Garrett."
"I got that impression." I kept my tongue in check. No need to mention that Sadler had told me already.
"He's in the coach."
They couldn't have been sitting there waiting for me. That wasn't their style. They must have had business with Morley and I was just a target of opportunity.
I walked to the coach, opened its door, hauled my carcass inside, settled facing the kingpin.
You take your first look at Chodo, you wonder why all the fuss. Everybody's scared of this old geek? Why, he's in such lousy shape he spends his whole life in a wheelchair. He can barely hold his head up, and that not for long unless he's mad. Sometimes he can't speak clearly enough to make himself understood. His skin has no color and it seems you can see right through it. He looks like he's been dead five years already.
Then he works up the strength to meet your eye and you see the beast looking out at you. I've been there several times and still that first instant of eye contact is a shocker. The guy inside that ruined meat makes Crask and Sadler look like streetcorner do-gooders.
You get in Chodo's way, you get hurt. He don't need to be a ballerina. He has Crask and Sadler. Those two are more loyal to him than ever any son was to a father. That kind of loyalty is remarkable in the underworld. I wonder what hold he has on them.
He has them and a platoon of lieutenants and those have their soldiers on the street. Those have their allies and informants and tenants. Chodo flinches or frowns, somebody can die a gruesome death real sudden.
"Mr. Garrett." He had the strength to incline his head. He was having a good day. Wiry wisps of white hair floated around.
"Mr. Contague." I call him Mr. Contague. "I was considering coming to see you." But not very seriously. His place is too far out. It's a disgustingly tasteless mausoleum (sour grapes, Garrett?) that dwarfs the homes of most of our overlords. Crime pays. And for Chodo it pays very well indeed.
"I thought you might when I heard from Dotes."
Thanks a bunch, Morley. There you go thinking for me again.
"I know how a man feels in such a situation, Mr. Garrett. I once lost a woman to a rival. A man grows impatient to restore the balance. I thought I would save time if I came to the city."
Huh? Didn't he know Tinnie was going to be all right? Or did he know something I didn't? That was likely, since almost everybody knows something I don't—but not about Tinnie, he shouldn't. "I appreciate it more than you know." He had a girl once. Funny. I'd never thought of him having been anything but what he is right now.
"You're surprised. It's a pity you're so determined to maintain your independence." That's a problem between us. I want the world to know I'm my own man. He'd like to get a hold on me. He said, "I admire you, Mr. Garrett. It would be interesting to sit and talk sometime about have-beens and might-have-beens. Yes. Even I was young once. Even I have been in love. I once considered getting out of this life because a woman caused me such despair. But she died. Much as yours did. I recall the pain vividly. For a time it left my soul as crippled as my flesh is now. If I can help, I will."
For the first time I began to suspect there was something going on between me and Chodo that was on a level having nothing to do with antipathies and favors accidentally or knowingly done. Maybe he'd glommed me as some kind of tenuous lifeline from his shadow world to one where "higher" standards reigned. And maybe his continued attempts to seduce or coerce me into his camp had something to do with tempering that lifeline.
Whoa! Hip boots time, Garrett. "Sure. Thanks. Only, Tinnie didn't die, see? She was hurt, but they say she should get better. Squirrel was supposed to tell you, only..."
His face darkened. "Yes. Squirrel. Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler told me what you said. I failed to make sense of it."
"I can't, either. But the whole world is going crazy. We got morCartha fighting all night, mammoths and saber-tooth tigers roaming around, thunder-lizards maybe migrating south. Today I saw centaurs on the street and almost tromped a gang of gnomes. Nothing makes sense anymore."
He made a feeble gesture with one hand, a sure sign his blood was up. He seldom spends the strength. "Tell me."
"You have a professional interest?"
"Tell me about it."
My mama didn't raise many kids dumb enough to argue with Chodo Contague while hip-deep in Chodo's headbreakers. I gave him most of the bag. Exactly what I'd given Crask and Sadler. I didn't contradict myself. The Dead Man taught me well when it comes to retaining detail. I added some speculation just to give the impression that I was making a special effort for him.
He listened, relaxed, chin against chest, gathering his strength. What went on inside that strange brain? The man was a genius. Evil, but a genius. He said, "It makes no sense in terms of the information at my disposal."
"Not to me, either." I arrowed to the key point. "But there're dwarves under arms roaming the streets."
"Yes. Most unusual."
"Is there a dwarfish underworld?"
"Yes. Every race has its hidden side, Mr. Garrett. I've had contact with it. It's trivial by human standards. Dwarves don't gamble. They are incapable of making that mental plunge into self-delusion whereby others become convinced that they can beat the odds. They don't drink because they make fools of themselves when they're drunk and there is nothing a dwarf fears more than looking foolish. They shun weed and drugs for the same reason. There are individual exceptions, of course, but they're rare. As a breed, they have few of the usual vices. I've never known one to become excitable enough to employ lifetakers."
"Pretty dull bunch."
"By your standards or mine. All work, all business, very little play. But there is one game they do enjoy. One weakness. Exotic females. Any species will do, though they gravitate toward big-busted human women."
So do I. I made an unnecessary crack about, well, if you've taken a look at your average dwarf woman
He shut me up with a scowl.
"They can't resist, Mr. Garrett—if you give them half a chance to convince themselves that they won't get found out. They can be as vulnerable as priests that way. In the area around Dwarf Fort there are half a dozen very discreet and exclusive hook shops catering to dwarves. They are quite successful enterprises."
Which meant they were pouring gold into Chodo's pockets. I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. Probably not. He isn't one to talk around the edges of something—unless he's handing you a gentle admonition concerning a possible catastrophic decline in the state of your health. "You make anything of the book angle?"
"They would get excited if someone got hold of one of their books of secrets. But that can't be done."
Such a flat statement. He'd tried. I flashed on what the Dead Man had said. Damn, I shouldn't have gotten him thinking about books.
He said, "There's no way to get enough leverage on a dwarf to make him turn over any secret. Those people are perfectly content to die first."
"How about a thief?" Maybe I could nudge this into safer channels.
"Their books are too well guarded to be reached." Again that flatness. He knew whereof he spoke. "That enclave is a puzzle box, a series of fortresses going inward. You need a guide to get through it. The army, backed by every wizard off the Hill, couldn't take the place fast enough to keep them from destroying whatever they don't want to get out."
"It was a notion. I thought it might explain what's been happening."
"What's going on is something else entirely. You tell me your young lady is alive and mending. Does that mean you're out of it?"
I answered honestly. "I don't know where I stand. Every time I decide I don't have any stake, something happens. Those dwarves Sadler and Crask ran off. They were out to get rid of me. It can't be sound business practice to let people get away with something like that."
He looked at me in a way that told me he knew I was holding out, but he said only, "That's true, Mr. Garrett. A first principle. Don't let anyone get away with muscling you. For the moment, let me counsel patience. Let me put my eyes out. These people have dragged me into their affairs. Someone beholden to me will know something about them. It's impossible for those people to exist in the cracks without being noticed. My people will catch some of them and ask questions. If I learn anything of interest to you, I'll inform you immediately."
"Thank you." I couldn't tell him to get out of my face, go home, I didn't need him stomping around in my life. Even if I'd wanted to.
"I'm going to have Mr. Sadler set up headquarters here so my people have a central reporting site." He meant the Joy House. That would thrill Morley all to hell. It would shoot the guts out of his business.
Chodo read that thought in my face. He's good at reading people. "Mr. Dotes won't lose because of it."
"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Contague." I managed to keep sarcasm from creeping in. Dean and the Dead Man would have been amazed. They don't think I can do that.
"Don't thank me. You've done me numerous good turns. This may be my chance to pay some back. Maybe to lay a little good karma on my soul."
Another surprise. That old boy is full of them. I thanked him again, climbed out of the coach. It rolled away immediately. Most of Chodo's bodyguards went with it.
16
Morley's place was deserted. I stepped into half the usual light and none of the usual uproar. I looked across the desert at Puddle, behind the serving counter, polishing glassware. "What the hell?"
"Not open tonight, buddy. Come back some other time."
"Hey! It's me. Garrett."
He squinted. Maybe his eyes weren't so good anymore. He was going to flab fast, but that didn't keep him from being a bad man. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe I ought to say we're double not open for you, pal. But it's too late. You done got Morley dragged in."
"Where is everybody?"
"Morley shut the place down. You think anybody's going to come in here with that circus parked out front?"
"He here?"
"Nope." He didn't volunteer any information. Most of Morley's people think I take advantage of his good nature. They're wrong. He doesn't have a good nature. And he owes me for a couple stunts he pulled on me back when he was hooked on gambling and he had to cut things fine to keep from taking that long swim in the river. "What you want him for?"
"Just talk."
"Right." His tone said I was full of it.
"He leave any word for me?"
"Yeah. Have a beer. Hang in there till he gets back."
"Beer?" Morley never has anything drinkable around except a little brandy upstairs for special guests of the female persuasion. The kind that always scurry for cover when I show up, afraid I work for their husbands.
Puddle swung a pony keg onto the bar, grabbed the biggest mug he had, drew me one. I arrived as he topped it off. I noted that the keg had been tapped already. I noted that Puddle had brew breath. I grinned. Another of Morley's bunch who didn't share his boss's religion. Puddle pretended he didn't know why I was showing my teeth
"Seen Saucerhead?"
"Nope"
"Morley supposed to be back soon?"
"I don't know."
"Know where he went?"
He shook his head, probably afraid he was going to get a sore throat with all this yammer. A real heavyweight conversationalist, Puddle. Always ready with a lightning riposte. Rather than subject myself to any more abuse, I went to work on my beer.
It went down smooth. Almost too smooth. I let him draw me another and finished half bef
ore I thought about all I'd put away already today. Where was the point of the running if I was going to fix myself up to look like Puddle anyway?
"You got anything back there ready to eat?"
A big, wicked grin grew on Puddle's homely face. Before he turned toward the kitchen, I was sorry I'd asked. He was about to make me pay for my sins.
He came back with something cold smeared on a bed of soggy noodles. "Chef's surprise." It looked like death and didn't taste much better
"Now I know why all those breeds are so damned mean. Can't help it, eating like this."
Puddle chuckled, pleased with himself.
I ate. To get through a mess like that, all I have to do is recall what I'd had to eat as a Marine. I could dig in and feel pampered.
Saucerhead ambled in. "Where you been, Garrett?"
I filled him in
"I heard about Squirrel. Can't figure it."
"What about the redhead?"
He frowned. "She went home meek. And disappeared." He shook his head. "Went in the place where she stayed. Wanted to ask her a question. I looked all over. She wasn't in there no more. And I know she never come out. Only two people ever did and she wasn't one of them. And she never came back." He shrugged and forgot it. Not his problem anymore. "They tried to ice you, eh?"
"Yeah."
He sighed. "Hey. Puddle. Whup me up a double load of whatever this glop is Garrett's got." He asked me, "Where's Morley?"
"I don't know. Puddle ain't saying."
"Hmm. Chodo's in it now. Account of Squirrel. What you going to do?"
"I don't know. I have a couple grudges. And like Chodo told me, letting them slide isn't good for business."
"You think that Winger smoked Squirrel?"
"Maybe. I think Chodo's going to find out."
"Pretty pissed, eh?"
"Yeah. Probably hasn't had a good excuse to off somebody for days."
Saucerhead drank about a quart of beer, inhaled the food Puddle brought him, shoved back, said, "Well, it's been an interesting day. I got to get on home. Got a little gal waiting." Off he went.