by Glen Cook
"The race is not always to the swift." Only elves would bet on the near-random results of water-spider races. "Ready?"
"Go ahead."
The door was unlocked. How thoughtful. There were four of them. Two sat on my bed. The other two occupied my only two chairs. I recognized three as cavalry veterans from Denny's crowd. The one called Vasco might be the V of Denny's notes. They were trying to look tough.
I guess they were tough, inside their heads. They had survived the Cantard. But they did not have the tough look that comes from growing up on the streets.
"Come on in, guys," I said. "Make yourselves at home. Fix yourselves a drink. My place is your place."
Vasco said, "See if he's armed, Quinn."
"He's armed," Morley said behind me. "Take my word for it."
One of my guests chuckled. "Look, Vee. A darko breed in man's clothing."
"Amateurs," Morley said.
"Amateurs," I agreed. "But the pros all start out as amateurs."
"Some have to learn their business the hard way."
What he meant was, anybody on the shady side of the law who knew what they were doing should know who he was.
Vasco made a gesture that restrained the character with the intemperate mouth. He said, "I figure you have some idea why we're here, Garrett. But there're a couple points I want to make sure you understand."
"Amateurs," I said again. "Pros know when to take their losses."
"That money didn't belong to Denny, Garrett. Not more than a third of it, anyway."
"Pros don't put all their eggs in one basket. And they don't put the basket where they can't get at it. If I was you boys I'd find a new line of business. Without Denny's contacts your old one is going to turn into a crapshoot."
Vasco winced. I knew too much. "We've got that angle covered, Garrett. All we need to do is get hold of Denny's papers and study up on his style. There weren't any secret codes or anything. The other end doesn't have to know that he's gone."
Might be workable at that. Maybe they were not so dumb after all.
Those records and notes and letters might be a silver mine.
"What did you do with them, Garrett?"
"So we get to the crux, eh?"
"Yes. I'll lay it out. We can take the loss on the silver if we get the papers and you stay away from the Cantard end. We ain't going to like it, but we can take it. My recommendation to you is, pocket your retainer and walk. Next best thing, if you think you have to make a show, is leave town for a while, then come back and say you couldn't find her. Or fake up a waiver and forge her chop."
"Sounds good," I said. "A practical solution to all our problems."
They looked relieved.
"Trouble is, when I got out of the Marines I decided I wasn't going to let anybody else run my life ever again. You guys were in the army. You know how it is."
It stunned them momentarily. Then Vasco said, "You look like you've had a bad day already, Garrett. I wouldn't want to give a man bruises on his bruises. Maybe you could reassess your position."
"You had your say. I made my position clear. You'd better be leaving. I'm not usually this tolerant of uninvited guests."
Vasco sighed. My old drill sergeant used to sigh that way when a recruit was particularly stubborn about learning. "Quinn, watch the breed."
I set myself. I'd picked my first move already.
"Stand aside, Garrett." That same sound of exasperation filled Morley's voice. "It's time for a little of that old elfin magic."
"Vee?"
"Take him, Quinn."
When Morley goes into action he seems to grow about six extra limbs. He uses them all so fast you hardly see them move. And when he isn't kicking or punching he's biting, head-butting, hip-jugging, or knee-dropping.
He opened by leaping up and giving Quinn the heels of both feet, bap! bap! right between the eyes. He flew to another victim without touching down. Quinn folded his cards and went to dreamland.
Vasco came after me.
I learned that you do not duke it out with a guy almost as good as you are when your whole body is stiff and sore from the last whipping you took.
He got me into a clinch that turned into a giant bear hug on the floor. He kept trying to bang his forehead off my temple. I got my teeth into his ear and chomped. That discouraged him. He threw himself away from me. From flat on my back I flicked out a heel and clipped him at the base of the skull. He went wobbly.
I jumped up, seized the moment by the scruff of the neck and seat of the pants, and ran him out the door to the accompaniment of appropriate old-time remarks about seedy little army types who failed to acknowledge the natural superiority of their overlords, the Marines.
A great glassy crash sent me hurtling back inside to help Morley.
He had polished off his share. He was eyeballing Quinn. "Grab the other end and help me throw him out."
"You broke my window."
"I'm charging you double rate for this one, Garrett. You provoked them."
"I'm not paying you squat. You threw somebody out my window."
"You never heard a word I said about truth and sincerity. You had a perfect chance to close it all down when Vee suggested you take the retainer and run. But no! Bad Garrett has got Morley Dotes behind him. He can run his mouth like a fool and provoke them all to hell."
"I would have said the same thing if you weren't here."
He cocked his head and looked at me like a bird looking at a new kind of bug. "Death wish. Suicidal tendencies. Know what causes that, Garrett? Diet. That's right. Your meat-heavy human diet. You need more roughage. You don't get enough roughage, your bowels tighten up. When your bowels tighten up you get these dangerous, self-destructive mood swings... "
"Somebody is going to get his bowels loosened up. You had to go and throw somebody through my window, didn't you?"
"Will you quit with the damned window?"
"You know how much that window cost? You got any idea?"
"Not a candle to what this job is going to cost you if you don't stop complaining. All right! Next time I'll ask them pretty please to go out the door like nice little boys. Come on. Let's run it off."
"Run? Run where? Why?"
"To work off this nervous energy. To get rid of the combat juices flowing inside us. Five miles ought to do it."
"I'll tell you how far I'm running. I'm running all the way over there to my bed. Then I'm not moving except to breathe."
"You're kidding. The shape you're in? If you don't stretch those muscles, then cool them out right, you're going to wake up so stiff you won't be able to move."
"Tell you what. You run my five miles for me. I'll consider forgiving you for the window." I crashed onto the bed. "I could use about a gallon of ice-cold beer."
Morley didn't answer me. He was gone.
10
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day. A time when the early birds of the world are aflame with their mission of bringing the joys of dawn-watching to the nations. And to me in particular.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Two mornings running. I wondered if I had offered unwitting insult to the Seven Grand Devils of Modrel.
I went through all the usual cursing and threatening. None of it helped.
Morley would crow when he saw me. I was as stiff as he wanted. It took me three minutes to put my feet over the side and sit up.
The first thing I saw was a mottled green face half a yard wide staring through the broken window. I said something intelligent like, "Gleep!"
The face grinned.
It was a groll, a hybrid of human, troll, and the Beast That Talks that is never named in polite company. I grinned back. Grolls are slow of wit and often quick of temper.
Its giant toad mouth opened and spilled some of that hair-raising bass which is their excuse for speech. I did not catch what it said. It was not meant for me, anyway.
The
banging on the door stopped.
"Hello yourself," I croaked, and dragged myself up onto my feet. I figured I'd better open up before his patience went and he let himself in through the wall.
There was another one outside the door. It looked exactly like the other one—Big, wide, and ugly. I guessed it would stand twenty feet high in its socks—if it ever wore socks. It didn't wear much else, except a loincloth, a utility belt, and an empty pack harness.
The loincloth did not do much to preserve modesty.
So from here on I have to call them both He with a capital H. Mules would go gibbous with envy.
Both grolls noted my amazement and grinned. That's the sense of humor such creatures have.
"I'd invite you in if you'd fit," I said. One is polite to grolls at all times, irrespective of one's prejudices. Otherwise one finds oneself reassessing one's attitude while being squished between warty green toes.
A short one stepped around the big one. "I expect I'll fit," he said. "And I could use a drink, actually."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Dojango is the name, actually. These are my brothers, Marsha and Doris."
"Brothers?"
"We're triplets, actually." He responded to my unspoken question, "But with different mothers, actually."
Triplets with different mothers. Right. I didn't ask. Making sense out of the things human folks tell me is brain strain enough.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Morley Dotes sent us, actually."
"What the hell for? Actually?" One of the big grolls growled at me. I used my fingers to sculpt a friendly smile.
"To help in the Cantard."
The villain himself, Morley Dotes, had sneaked on stage. "So you decided you want the job, eh?"
"At the moment there are certain advantages, where my creditors are concerned, to my being both employed and being out of town," Morley replied.
"And you thought you'd gather all your friends under the umbrella of that advantage? Like maybe my principal wouldn't think of putting a bottom in my expense pot?"
"If you would use half that vaunted detective brain of yours, you would bless my vision."
"It's too early in the morning for me to remember my name. Enlighten me, O Illustrious One."
"Consider mules."
"Mules? What the hell do mules have to do with it?"
"We're going into the Cantard. No one will risk loaning or renting us mounts or pack animals. We'll have to buy. On the other hand, wages for Doris and Marsha will run about what it would cost for a brace of good mules. And they can carry twice the load twice as long. And they're a hell of a lot more use in a fight."
That made sense. Good sense. But... "What about friend Dojango?"
Morley sighed. "Yes. Dojango Roze. Well, Garrett, they won't break up the set."
I do believe I scowled. "You sticking me with deadwood?"
"Dojango can lift a blade. He can sniff out water and find firewood. He can understand Doris and Marsha. If you keep an eye on him, he can cook an edible meal without burning anything too badly."
"I'm trying not to slobber in anticipation." I scanned the triplets who had different mothers. They grinned groll good fellowship. They figured Morley had sold me.
Dotes said, "Keep Dojango away from the juice and he'll do all right."
Everyone knows breeds cannot handle their booze. Dojango's grin became apologetic.
"How much is this road show going to burn me?"
Morley tossed out an outrageous figure. I slammed the door and went back to bed. He had one of the big triplets lift him so he could yell numbers through the broken window. I faked a mean snore till some interesting integers began rattling around behind me. In fact, Morley was so pliable I began wondering how bad his creditor situation was. I did not need more complications than I already had.
"It's your diet that makes you so stubborn, you know that, don't you, Garrett? All that red meat filled with the juices stirred by the terror of the murdered beast, and you never exercising so you sweat them out of your own body."
"I figured it was something like that, Morley. That, too much beer, and not enough green, leafy veggies."
"Cattails, Garrett. The white hearts down near the roots of the young plant, diced into a tossed salad. Not only tasty, but informed with an almost mystical capacity for lightening the burden of guilt lying upon the carnivore's soul."
"Horsepucky." When I was in the Marines we raided an island where the Venageti promptly cut us off from our ships and drove us into a swamp. Cattails were a mainstay of our diet till the fortunes of war shifted. I don't recall them doing anything remarkable for the temperaments of our sergeants and corporals, who seemed carnivorous enough to eat their own young. Rather the opposite, in a geometric progression.
I know we all took it out on the Venageti when the time came.
Maybe I did not start eating cattails young enough. "Morley, I did a job for a professor at the university one time. He was always spouting who-cares facts. Like one time when he said there are two hundred forty-eight different kinds of fruits, vegetables, greens, and tubers that people eat. Hogs will only eat two hundred forty-six of those. They won't touch green peppers and they won't touch cattail hearts. Which goes to show you that hogs have more sense than people."
"No point trying to salvage you, is there? You're determined to suicide the slow way. Are the boys hired?"
"They're hired." I hoped I would not be sorry.
"How soon can we leave?"
"You in a hurry, Morley? You need to get out of town fast? That why you're being so agreeable about going into the Cantard?"
Dotes shrugged.
A shrug was answer enough.
Considering Morley's talents and reputation, it would take somebody heavy to have enough clout to scare him. In my mind somebodies that heavy narrowed down to a crowd of one. The big guy himself. The kingpin. "Since when is Kolchak into bug racing, Morley?"
He popped down out of the window. His voice lingered behind him. "You're too damned smart for your own good, Garrett. It's going to catch up with you someday. I'll be in touch. Come on, you lummoxes. Dojango! Put that back. Doris!" He sounded like a muleteer trying to get a wagon started.
I went back to bed thinking I'd better use some of Tate's money to get a new window put in. Maybe a flashy piece with my name leaded in colors.
11
This old universe hasn't got one notion of the meaning of the word mercy where I'm concerned. I just got to snoozing when the door began shivering like a drumhead again.
"Going to have to do something about this," I muttered as I hit the floor. "Like maybe move and not tell anybody."
I opened up and found uncle Lester and the boys outside. "You guys decide to forget the whole thing, I hope?" I noticed that two of the kids had gotten into something rough. They showed plenty of bruises and bandages and one had an arm in a sling. "What happened?"
"Unfriendly visitors. Willard wants to talk to you about it."
"All right. I'm on my way." I took just long enough to make myself presentable, gulp some water, and pick up the lead-weighted head-thumper.
Willard Tate was in a state. He waited, wringing his hands. All my life I have heard that expression. Except for a maiden aunt whose every breath was an act of high drama, I'd never seen it before.
"What happened?" Uncle Lester was a clam. Maybe he was afraid if I knew too much I'd turn around.
Tate pumped my hand with both of his. "Thank you for coming. Thank you. I didn't know what else to do."
"What happened?" I asked again as he clung to my hand with one of his and dragged me like a stubborn child. Uncle Lester and the boys tagged along. I spotted a pale-faced Rose watching as we crossed the garden, headed for Denny's apartment.
Tate did not tell me. He showed me.
The place was a wreck. The apprentices were still cleaning up. Several of them wore bandages and bruises. Some wise soul had barred entry from the street b
y nailing boards across the doorframe.
Tate pointed.
The body lay in the middle of the room, belly down, one hand stretched toward the door.
"What happened?" I asked again.
Third time was a charm.
"It happened around midnight. I had the boys in watching, just in case, because you made me nervous the way you talked. Five men broke through the street door. The boys were smart. Odie came and woke everybody up. The others hid and let the burglars go downstairs. So we ambushed them when they tried to leave.
"We just wanted to capture them. But they panicked and started a fight, and they weren't shy about trying to hurt us. And now we're stuck with that."
I knelt to look at the dead man's face. He had started to puff up already. But I could still see the cuts and scrapes he had picked up flying through the window at my place.
"Did they get away with anything?"
"I did a count," Uncle Lester said. "The gold and silver is all there."
"They weren't after gold or silver."
"Huh?" All the Tates are brilliant. But they hide their light under a bushel. Maybe it's a business reflex.
"They were looking for Denny's papers. His letters to the woman. I took care of hiding most everything, but there could have been something I overlooked. Those papers might be worth more than any amount of metal they could haul out of here."
Old Man Tate looked dumbfounded, so I told him about my little chat with Denny's partners. He did not want to believe me. "But that's—"
"Trading with the enemy when you take the costume off it and look it straight in the face."
"I know my son, Mr. Garrett. Denny wouldn't betray Karenta."
"Did you hear me say anything about treason?" I thought it, though. Mainly in the context of what happened to folks foolish enough to get caught trading with the Venageti. I have no moral reservations about that. The war is a struggle between two gangs of nobles and wizards trying to grab control of mines likely to give their possessors near mastery of the world. Their motives are no higher than those displayed in squabbles between street gangs right here in TunFaire.