by Glen Cook
"Aw, hell. That ain't playing fair."
He filled my head with a chuckle. There is kindness and kindness, Garrett. I would not ask you to cease being human.
"Big of you." Not much, he wouldn't. "What's up?" Looking at all of him here and thinking of all of Carla Lindo over there, I was headed into withdrawal.
One significant factor has escaped you. No. You need not feel slow. Indulgent of him. It escaped me until you told Miss Ramada about Miss Tate's narrow escape.
That's the way he is. Nothing straight out. Try to make me figure it out for myself. "Well?"
He didn't play with me long. You related the same account to the pretender earlier. That woman, if she is indeed the Serpent—and I now believe she is—then knows that Miss Ramada had not been harmed and was in fact ignorant of that threat, so was in no danger of being scared away. Presumably she had something to do with your adventure near Dwarf House. So. Assuming the house was not watched while you were away, because you were not expected to return .
"I've got it. Do you think she figured out that you were here?"
That is of no consequence. It is no secret that you share the home of a Loghyr. She will know once she starts to ask questions.
I skipped his invitation to feud over whose house it was. I considered what we knew about the Serpent. Damned little, but if she was heavyweight enough to create the kind of book that was the root of the excitement, she could be heavyweight enough to cause us trouble. The Dead Man can do incredible things, but strength isn't everything. Sometimes you have to bob and weave and he just isn't light on his feet. There are disadvantages to being dead that even he can't get around.
"Let's back off and look at this. Why is she here? To get her book back. That's the big thing. Keeping me out of her way ought to be secondary. When she was here, she got everything I knew. She gave me stuff back, but only because then she figured me to do her legwork." But if she wanted me to do legwork, why try to hit me? "Maybe she changed her mind when she got wind I was seeing your pal Sneezy."
Sneezy?
"Gnorst Gnorst Gnorst, and so forth. Maybe she started feeling the heat, realized how much she'd stirred up. She's got me and Saucerhead and you and the Tates after her on account of Tinnie, as soon as we figure out she isn't Carla Lindo. She's got the kingpin after her because he wants whoever cut Squirrel. I visit the head dwarf, he squawks like a stuck turkey when I mention the Book of Shadows, goes into a panic, says he's going to put his whole mob on the warpath. They're after her, too. She's got to make some moves. Maybe she figures if she gets rid of me, everybody will sit back for a while because I was the common denominator tying her enemies together."
I'd gone from explaining to thinking out loud. "She's going to push hard, going after that book. She might take another whack at me when she finds out I got away from her boys. Now I can raise the heat even more."
Yes.
"Can there really be a book where you just read a page and turn into whoever's written there?"
She believes it. Gnorst believes it. The girl and those who sent her believe it. The man who stole the book believed it. Miss Tate was wounded because people believe it. What I believe does not matter. This has become a race, Garrett. You have to find that woman before she finds the book.
"How about I just find the book and wait for her to come to me?"
An admirable strategy, simple and direct. I should have seen it myself. How do you propose to execute it?
Sly, sarcastic old devil. Of course it would be easier to find the witch than the book. She was running with a strange pack. Even in TunFaire, it would stand out like pants on a mare.
"I shouldn't be here. I should be at Morley's, in case Sadler gets an interesting report."
Mr. Dotes's establishment would be convenient. I can get a message to you there. Though perhaps a modicum of rest would better serve you at the moment.
"Right." He was. "I'm on my way."
Dean looked expectant when I returned to the small front room. "He wanted to remind me that we told the other woman about Tinnie. Which means she knows Carla Lindo is still kicking."
The redhead's eyes got huge. Damned if that didn't make me want to charge over there and set her in my lap and tell her everything was going to be all right. Even if I didn't know everything was going to be all right. Because things would be plenty all right with me as long as she remained perched there.
I said, "We figure there's no reason for you to worry. The cat's out of the bag. Killing you won't chase it back in. She'll concentrate on finding the book."
"You can't let her find it!"
"Take it easy. She'll need some fantastic luck to find it before she gets found herself. In about a minute I'm going to take a walk and tell a man about her, and before you can wink there'll be about three thousand bad people looking for her." I had a thought, which sometimes happens. Sometimes even before it's too late. "What's she look like when she's not being you?"
Carla Lindo just looked at me.
"Well?"
"I'm trying to think. I don't know. I don't think I ever saw her. At least not and know it was her."
"Say what?" The Dead Man had warned me. "You lived in the same place and you never saw her? She had to see you if she put a page in her book that was you." Had to see her pretty damned close. About all she'd left out was the freckles.
"She stayed locked up in her tower. Nobody went in there but people she wanted in there. All those dwarves and ogres and creepy ratmen. If I ever saw her, I didn't know it was her. I'm sure I never saw her."
The Baron's castle had to be some weird place. Not one where I'd like to spend a lot of time. Unless Carla Lindo had her four or five sisters. Maybe I ought to find out if there were any more at home like her.
I must've been showing my thoughts. She gave me a look like she was reading my mind. I stammered some, then managed to say, "You can't give me anything to go on?"
"No. Yes. I never saw it, but they say she wears a ring. Middle finger of her right hand. She never takes it off. It's a snake that wraps around her finger three times. It has a cobra head. They say there's venom in the ring that can kill you instantly."
"That's handy to know." I reflected. "The woman who was here wasn't wearing a ring. I don't think." That was still foggy. "Did you see one, Dean?"
"No." Good man. He refrained from mentioning the extra redhead.
"Then she will take it off in some circumstances. Is there anything else?"
Carla Lindo reddened, which was surprisingly fetching considering her coloring. But I couldn't imagine her doing anything that wasn't fetching. She only had to breathe.
She said, "She has a tattoo. They say. It's how she got her name. The Serpent."
"Huh?" Vagrant memory, of a guy in my company when I was in the Marines. He'd been stuck with the name Donkey Dick till one night he'd gotten all drunked up and had a tattoo artist go to work. After that we called him Snakeman. If he's still alive, I'll bet he regrets it. Unless he's turned it into a carnival act.
The girl stood up. "The whole front of her is supposed to be a snake's face." She gestured. "Her breasts are supposed to be the snake's eyes."
Boy. There was a thought. Imagine waking up and looking over at that next to you. That would dampen your ardor. No wonder old Stonecipher took up with a chambermaid. "That's a vivid image. Anything else?" I could just see me going around ripping open the blouses of suspects.
She shook her head. All that copper hair flying around left me with another vivid image. But this one faded to red hair against cobblestones.
I wondered if Tinnie was going to haunt me. Maybe I'd better go see how she was doing. Tomorrow.
"I have to go out, Dean. Over to Morley's."
His face pruned up with concern. "Is that wise?"
"It's necessary. Put Miss Ramada in the front guest room. She'll be safe enough there."
His look said she'd be safe only as long as I was Out of the house. I didn't argue. I seldom do. There's no
way to change Dean's mind. Maybe he should've gone ahead and become a priest. You sure can't rattle him with facts.
He'd make a great little old lady, too.
Probably comes of having to live with all those nieces. I hate to wish them on anybody, but I do wish they'd find husbands and get Out of his hair.
Dean nodded. I stepped out of the room, deaf to the girl's appeals. I went upstairs and rearmed, then came down and stopped by the office to say good-bye to Eleanor. "Wish me luck, lady. Wish me better luck." I hadn't saved a soul in the case that had involved her. Unless, maybe, in a way, I'd saved me. After the hurting went, I'd found a renewed resolve to do my bit to make the world a better place.
19
You get wary when people have been pounding on you. Even when you're so tired even snazzy redheads have begun to lose their appeal. Before I'd gone a block I sensed I was being watched. I'm not sure what it was. Certainly nothing I could spot. The watcher was that good. Maybe it's a sense you develop in order to survive in this business, in this city.
I decided I'd stay out of places so tight I'd have nowhere to run, which was just common night sense anyway.
I was halfway to Morley's place, dodging low-flying morCartha, when suddenly I was no longer alone. "Shee-it! You guys got to stop doing that. My heart can't handle it." Despite my wariness, Crask and Sadler had surprised me, appearing out of nowhere. An object lesson, most likely. In case I ever became inclined to line up against them. They like to play those games.
I supposed it was their people who had tracked me from my place and sent them word I was coming.
Sadler smiled. At least I think that was supposed to be a smile. Hard to tell in the dark. "Really thought you'd appreciate some good news, Garrett. But if you ain't happy to see us..."
"I'm overjoyed. I'm thrilled right down the quicks of my toenails." Thrilled like they were double pneumonia with a raging dysentery tossed in. "Why can't you guys just walk up to me like normal people? You always got to be jumping out of alleys and stuff."
Crask said, "I like to see the look on your face." He wasn't smiling. He wasn't kidding.
Sadler said, "My, my. We're crabby tonight. Did we have a bad day?"
"You got your kicks. So tell me what's the good news?"
"We found your man Blaine."
"Huh?"
Sadler said, "Come on. You ask, we deliver."
Deliver, sure, but without any guarantees about condition. It's hard to read those two, but I did get a feeling all was not well during our stroll to see Blain. So I wasn't surprised when, after we'd passed a platoon of henchmen and climbed to a third-floor one-roomer, he turned out to be in a poor state of health.
Some unaccountably thoughtful soul had covered the body with a blanket.
I glanced around. The room's door had been busted off its hinges. And I don't mean just kicked in but torn up like it had gotten in the way of a troll in a hurry who didn't want to be bothered with latches. The room itself was ripped all to hell, like a squad of werewolves had gone berserk there. But there wasn't any blood. "You guys get a little overwrought?"
Sadler shook his head. "Somebody else. We come here when he heard about the racket."
"Who did it?"
He shook his head again. "Everybody cleared out before we got here. You know how it goes. See no evil, hear no evil, you don't got to worry about comebacks. We only caught one old guy who was too slow. He didn't know nothing but the dead guy's name. Dipshit was so thick he used his own name."
"Bright." But what did that mean? None of us knew Holme Blaine. The dead guy could be anybody and we wouldn't know the difference.
I glanced around again. Looking more closely, I could see the damage wasn't just insane destruction after all. "Somebody wanted it to look like crazies did it."
Crask smiled at me like I was a dull pupil who had seen the light at last. "Somebody was looking for something. Maybe some of them looking while some of them were asking. Then we come along unexpected, they do a quick cleanup and fade."
Ha! "So where are they?"
"Gone. Saw us coming."
Huh. I wondered why anyone would bother hiding the fact that they'd searched Blaine's place and fixed him so he couldn't talk about it. Did we have somebody looking for the book who didn't want somebody else looking for it to know they were looking, too?
That came to me off the wall but felt so right I went into a trance trying to figure out why.
Sadler said, "You want something to exercise your mind, check this out." He yanked the blanket off Blaine.
I gaped. I managed a one-syllable expletive after about fifteen seconds, and a quarter of a minute later said, "That's impossible."
"Yeah. Prime example of a mass hallucination."
Damn. Everybody was getting sarky.
Blaine was half-man, half-woman. Actually, more woman than man. Running from three inches above the waist on the right diagonally to his left shoulder, he was a he. Down below he was a she. Very much a she. In fact, a familiar one. I'd seen that end before.
"What do you think of that?" Crask asked.
I chewed some air. I made my eyes bug. "Looks like he had trouble making up his mind." I made funny noises. "Bet he had trouble on dates." They must've thought the circus was in town and I was practicing for my audition.
"First time I ever seen him without some wiseass remark," Crask said. I bet he'd waited a year to pick a time to drop that one.
Sadler asked, "What you know about this, Garrett?"
"I know it's weird. I never saw anything like it." Well, like part of it. That bottom had been in my small front room for a while. "It's like something out of a freak show."
"Not what I meant."
I knew that. "Zip."
"You sure? You wanted this guy."
"Because he was supposed to have the answers."
Sadler gave me the fish-eye. "Don't look like anybody's going to get to empty him out, now."
"No. I guess that's the point." I leaned against a wall, where nobody could get behind me, and gave the room another took. But there wasn't anything there to see. Except that body. Whoever did the job, they left nothing of their own. And they didn't find what they were looking for, else they wouldn't have been there still when Crask and Sadler showed. "Nobody saw nothing, eh?"
"This's TunFaire. What do you think?"
I thought they were lucky to have caught the old man they'd caught. I told him so. He grunted.
"You sure you ain't got nothing to tell us, Garrett?"
"Actually, I do. But let it ride a minute. I want you to understand something. I don't have a client. There's no percentage in me holding out." What's a little white fib amongst friends?
Crask said, "Would you look at this?" He'd gotten distracted in a big way.
"What?" Sadler.
Crask pointed at the body. We looked. I didn't get it till Sadler said, "It's changing." A little more of it was male than had been before.
Crask knelt, touched it. "And it's dead enough it's cooling out. This is weird."
"This is sorcery," Sadler said. "I don't like this. Garrett?"
"Don't look at me. I can't change water into ice."
They both scowled, sure I was holding out. Sure. Blame it on Garrett when weird things start to happen.
Crask said, "I don't like it. We ought to get out of here."
I said, "That sounds like a good plan." I headed for the door. "You guys rounded up any other news? You get a line on those dwarves yet?"
They both got a funny look. Sadler said, "Not yet. And that's weird, too."
Crask said, "Yeah. They got to leave a trail. They got to be staying somewhere,"
True. Curious. It bore some thought. Where could they stay and not catch the eyes of the kinds of people who work for Chodo, or who work for the people who work for Chodo? Couldn't be many places like that around.
I paused in the doorway. "Somebody really blew in here."
"Yeah," Crask said. "Hope I never have
to arm-wrestle him."
I went over the fragments, looking for maybe a thread from a knit sweater that came only from one small island off the coast of Gretch, or something. You go through the motions even when you think they're pointless. A matter of discipline. They pay off sometimes, so you do them all the time. When I found a big lot of nothing, I wasn't disappointed. I'd fulfilled my expectations. If I'd found something, I'd have been overjoyed, having struck it rich beyond my wildest fancy.
Sadler said, "Let's not slide out so fast, Garrett. You had something to tell us."
"Yeah." I'd been vacillating. Information given up is advantage surrendered.
"Well?"
"Found out about another character who's got something to do with whatever's going on. Called the Serpent. She's the one this guy is supposed to have stolen a book from." Blaine was changing faster, maybe because he was getting cold.
"Well?"
Sadler ought to get together with Puddle for a gabfest. Sparkling. "The Serpent is a witch. She hangs out with dwarves." I took it from the top. They had some of it already but I didn't know how much. I gave them everything I thought they needed to know. I was real ignorant about why the book was a big deal.
"Witch, eh?" Crask eyed Blaine. That was the salient point for him.
"Tattoo?" Sadler asked. He lifted an eyebrow. "That would be a sight to see."
It would, but I was surprised he thought so. He never showed much interest along those lines. He asked, "You figure she cut Squirrel?"
"If she didn't, she knows who did."
"We'll find her. We'll ask."
"Be careful"
He gave me a look. Mostly it wondered about my smarts. He'd be careful. He'd survived his five in the Cantard. He'd survived in his line of work long enough to get to the top. Careful was his middle name, right between bad and deadly.
I took a final look at Holme Blaine, who hadn't been careful enough. He still didn't have anything to tell me. I didn't have anything to say to him, either.
I'd done my duty. It was time to get my bones moving toward a bed. If the morCartha took pity maybe I could get some sleep.