by Glen Cook
Being Karentine, I would prefer the gang running my country to win. I love being with a winner. Everybody does. But it doesn't hurt my feelings if somebody besides the lords makes a little profit from the squabble. I explained that to Tate.
"The problem is, the connection is still alive," I said. "And some pretty tough boys want to keep it that way. Meaning they don't want you and me meddling. Do you follow me?"
"And they want Denny's papers and letters and whatnots so they can keep contact with the woman?"
"You catch on fast, Pop. They'll let their claim to the metals go for the papers. And Denny will live on forever in letters he never wrote."
He thought about it. There was a part of him that wanted to grab the big score while it was there for the grabbing. But there was a part of him that was crazy stubborn, too. Maybe if he had been a little poorer... But somewhere along the way he had made up his mind and set it in concrete. Changed circumstances would not budge him. "I will meet this woman, Mr. Garrett."
"It's your neck," I said. And tried to time a meaningful pause. "And your family's. That could be one of the boys on the floor, attracting flies."
I got to him that time. He puffed up. His face got red. His eyes bugged out, which is a sight in the half elfin. His mouth opened. He began to shake.
But he did not let it get hold of him. Somehow, he turned it off. After half a minute, he said, "You're right, Mr. Garrett. And it's a risk due more consideration than I have given it. If, as you say, those men were army friends of Denny's who survived the Cantard, it's damned lucky several of the boys weren't killed instead of that poor fellow."
"Like you said, they panicked. They just wanted to get away. But next time they'll be looking for trouble."
"You're sure there'll be a next time? Coming so close to getting caught already?"
"You don't seem to understand the stakes, Mr. Tate. In eight years Denny and those guys built a handful of prize money into a hundred thousand marks." Plus whatever fun they took along the way, but I did not mention that. The old boy did not need all his illusions stripped. "Think what they could have done with another eight years and that kind of capital."
Gotten into a crunch, probably. Too much wealth draws attention—though I suppose Denny knew that and planned accordingly.
"Perhaps I do not, Mr. Garrett. I'm only a shoemaker. My interest is fathers and sons and a family tradition that goes back more generations than can be counted. A tradition that died with Denny."
He was an exasperating old coot. I think he understood plenty. He just didn't give a damn anymore.
"You're certain they will return, then?"
"Breathing fire, Pop."
"Then it behooves me to take steps."
"The step you ought to take is to come to an accommodation."
"Not with those swine. They—and that woman—seduced my son away... "
I shut him out and gave my whole attention to the basement. As far as I could tell, nothing had changed. It seemed likely, then, that they had found nothing I might have missed. "Huh? I'm sorry. I missed that."
He gave me a look that said he knew why. But you could not get him to talk nasty at spear's point. "I asked if you knew someone I could retain as a guard for the premises."
"No." I did know someone. Me. But I was up to my nostrils with long cold lonely nights waiting for something that never happened, or that was really lethal when it did. "Wait." A thought. "Maybe I do. The people who are supposed to make the trip to the Cantard with me. I could do us both a favor by parking them here." Morley, too, if it put him out of the heat.
Tate looked startled. "You're going to go? You sounded so dead set against it."
"I'm still against it. I think it's about as smart as raiding a roc's nest. I don't even see any point to it. But I told you I'd look into it. I haven't really made up my mind yet either way."
He smiled. He grinned. I was afraid he would try to slap me on the back and maybe loosen one of my kidneys. But he restrained himself. A very restrained kind of guy, old man Tate.
He got very serious.
"What can you do about that man's body, Mr. Garrett?"
I figured we were going to get to that. "Nothing."
"What?"
"Nothing. He's not my problem."
The old boy gulped air. Then the sly merchant came tippy-toeing forward. "You want to hold me up for a bonus? All right. How much?"
"Don't bother. You don't have enough. I'm not putting a finger on that stiff. It's not my responsibility, and I don't do that kind of work. My advice is, call the magistrates and let them handle it. You'll be clear. He was killed during a break-in."
"No. I don't want anyone nosing into family business."
"Then have your boys take him and dump him in the river or an alley somewhere down the hill." There are bodies in the river most mornings. In the alleys, too. Unless they were someone important, they caused little comment.
Tate saw that he could not reach me through my lust for wealth. He gave that up. "You go ahead here, then. Send those men here as soon as you can. I have work to do. Keep me posted." He ducked out.
I poked around and wondered if the evil gleam in Tate's eye meant he thought he could put the corpse off on Morley and the triplets.
12
The flooring did its dust drop. I had noticed it several times before Tate left. I figured my sweetheart Rose was eavesdropping again. I ignored her.
Look as I might, I could not find anything missing. I settled back to give the whole business a think. It was obese with potential trouble. And I was getting near the point where I had to make a real decision.
The local end of it would take care of itself. There was nothing to investigate at this end. At the other end...
I did not want to think about that end yet. It would be unpleasant no matter how smooth it went. It would be unpleasant just traveling to and revisiting the Cantard.
A door opened and shut overhead. A moment later women began talking. The one with the quarrelsome voice had to be Rose. I wondered who the other one was.
A delightful aroma preceded her down the basement stairs. She proved to be a fiery little redhead with long straight hair, jade-green eyes, a few freckles, and high, firm breasts that thrust boldly against a ruffled silk blouse. There was nothing between that blouse and her but my daydreams.
"Where have they been hiding you?" I asked, jumping up to take the tray she carried. "Who are you?"
"I'm Tinnie. And you're Garrett. And the last time you saw me I was just a spindle-legged kid." She looked me right in the eye and grinned. Her teeth looked sharp and white. I wanted to stick out a hand and let her take a bite.
"Could still be on spindles for all a guy can tell from that skirt." It fell to her ankles.
Her grin got sassy. "You could get lucky and get a look sometime. You never know."
My kind of luck came down the stairs right then. "Tinnie! You've done your job. Get out."
We ignored Rose. I asked, "You're not Denny's sister, are you? He never mentioned you."
"Cousin. They don't talk about me. I'm the one who causes trouble."
"Oh? I thought Rose took care of that."
"Rose is just obnoxious. That doesn't bother them. I do things that embarrass them. Rose just makes people mad or disgusted. I make the neighbors whisper behind their hands."
Rose simmered and reddened. Tinnie winked at me. "See you later, Garrett."
Yeah. I wish. That little bit was enough woman to make a man sit up and howl at the moon. She had a sway as she sashayed past Rose and started up the stairs.
When you got down to it and ignored the personality of a black widow spider, Rose was not something the dogs barked at either. She was another small package with its contents all in the right places, and only prime materials had been used.
Rose could move with a sway that promised fireworks—if she wanted. But her fireworks were the kind that blow up in a man's face.
We eyed each other like a
couple of tomcats about to square off. We both decided what she had in mind wouldn't work any better this time. She got flustered because she didn't know what else to do.
"Ought to have a backup plan when you jump in on something," I told her. "Like Saucerhead Tharpe."
"You're right, Garrett. Damn you, anyhow. How did you get so old being as stubborn as you are?"
"By guessing right most of the time. You wouldn't be a bad kid if there was room for anyone else in your world."
For a few seconds, there, I got the feeling she wished there was someone else in her world. Then she said, "Too bad we couldn't have met under other circumstances."
"Yeah," I said, not feeling it. She would be trouble no matter what the circumstances. That was how she was made.
"We don't have any common ground at all, do we?"
"Not very much. Not unless you had some feeling for your brother. I was fond of Denny. How about you?'
I had touched something. At last.
"It isn't fair. Him dying like that. He was about the nicest guy I ever knew. Even if he was my brother. That Cantard bitch—"
"Easy!" I snapped it, which gave me away enough to make her gawk and wonder.
"What's in this for you, Garrett? Besides a chance to line your pockets? Nobody goes to the Cantard without more reason than money."
I thought about Morley Dotes when she said that. I thought about me. I wondered about me. Garrett, tough guy. Can't reach him. No emotional handles. But I was on the brink of doing something no moron in his right mind would do.
Like old man Tate, I wanted to see this woman who could put a halter on Denny.
Rose and I traded stares. She decided I wasn't going to give her a thing. "Be careful, Garrett. Don't get yourself hurt. Look me up when this is over."
"It wouldn't work, Rose."
"It could be fun giving it a look."
She sashayed up the stairs.
She did look good from that perspective. Maybe...
Seconds after the door slammed, while common sense was fighting for its life, a copper-wreathed face peeped at me from the head of the stairs. "Don't even think about it, Garrett. I wouldn't love you anymore."
Then Tinnie vanished, too.
I gulped some air and said "Duh!" a few times, then got my dogs under me and went galumphing off on the trail.
She was gone when I got upstairs. I was alone with the dead guy. Denny's friend. There was no sign of Rose or Tinnie when I looked into the garden. I closed the door and took a quick look through the dead guy's pockets.
Some vulture had beat me to it. There wasn't a thing left.
13
Old Man Tate got the body out somehow. Dropped it in the river, I guess. I didn't ask, and didn't hear a thing about it. A lot of people never heard from again take that one last swim.
I got Morley and the triplets installed at Denny's place. Morley thought it was a great idea. That being the case, I spent the evening hanging around his place, nicked by dagger looks from the breeds, hoping I would catch a flash to illuminate his eagerness to join a fool's quest.
I didn't catch anything brighter than candlelight.
All I found out was that I wasn't the only guy watching.
You get a sixth sense after enough years. Mine pegged two heavyweights in the first fifteen minutes. One was human and looked like he could give Saucerhead a fight. The other was so ugly, and stayed in his shadowed corner so deep, that I couldn't tell what he was. A breed for sure, probably with some troll and kobold in him, but more than that. He was as wide as he was tall. His face had been rearranged several times, probably for the better.
The bartender knew I had something going with Morley. He stayed civil. I asked about the men I had picked out.
"Don't know them. The ugly one was in here last night. First time. Sat in that corner all night nursing a beer he brought with him. I would've thrown him out if he hadn't bought a meal."
"That would've been a show to see." I took a pint of the water that passed for beer there and tipped him to take the sting out of the crack. "Think they're the kingpin's boys?"
"Not unless they're from out of town."
That was what I thought. I didn't recognize them either, but they looked like trouble on the hoof.
Well, no skin off my nose. As long as they were not interested in me.
I gave it up at Morley's place after the pint. There were better places to put an ear to the ground. I went and hung out in some of them. I didn't find out a thing.
Curious.
I headed for my place wondering if the glazier had gotten started yet. I felt no shame at all charging the replacement window to Tate.
The new window was in place and lettered as pretty as a blonde in her birthday suit. But I strolled by without admiring it, putting a slouch in my shoulders and a shuffle in my walk.
Maybe I wouldn't go home after all.
There were problems. One was that somebody was waiting in the breezeway beside the ratman's; even without seeing the glow of his pipe I could smell the weed he was smoking. The other was that there was somebody waiting inside. Whoever that was had all the lamps burning, using up oil at a rate to curdle my liver.
I knew a heavy weed smoker. Another friend of Denny's. Another old soldier, name of Barbera, who smoked so much that most of the time he didn't know if he was in this world or the next. A pathetic case, he was always in trouble because folks could talk him into anything. He had been one of Denny's charities.
No doubt Denny's other pals thought it would be a giggle to hop him up and sic him on me.
I faded into a shadow down the block and took a seat against a wall that needed tuckpointing. The view of my place was as scenic as a garbage dump.
A lot of nothing happened for a long time. Unless you count the flares as my lurker lighted up, or the passing of drunks so far gone they were unafraid of the nighted streets. Only after we started getting some aromatic moonlight did anything interesting happen. And that was just a couple guys checking in with the weed man.
They passed me by without seeing me. But I got a look at them.
Vasco and Quinn, my old pals.
So they meant to do me dirty, eh?
I didn't move, though I thought about knocking some heads. I was beginning to wonder about that lamplight. Vasco and Quinn had made no effort to talk to whomever was inside. So maybe that whomever wasn't one of them.
Who, then?
My friend the ratman came home from his shift at the graveyard, drunk as usual. In my less charitable moments I've wished he would get lost in one of the graves he digs.
He shuffled up to my new window, glanced inside.
Whatever he saw, it was interesting. He watched for a minute. When he moved on he cast furtive looks around. He didn't see anyone watching. That must have given him courage. He slipped over and tried the door.
It opened.
Barbera came blazing out of the shadows. He climbed all over the ratman. When he had him pounded down to about three feet high, he took off, headed my way.
A little message for me from Denny's pals. Misdelivered.
I reckoned they needed an answer.
I stepped out of the shadows as Barbera lumbered past. He caught me from the corner of his eye. I said, "Hi, there," and smacked his ear with my sap as his eyes grew big and he tried to turn.
He did not go down. But his knees got wobbly and his eyes glazed. I kicked him low, punched him high with my left, bounced the sap off his forehead.
He wobbled a little more.
They need a lot of pounding when they're hopped.
I gave him all he needed, and then some, and when he no longer knew what planet he was on, I snagged the seat of his pants and walked him into an alley, where I gave him a few more taps with my sap. Then I took his pouch of weed. A while later I paid a half-dwarf half-goblin wino to deliver it to Vasco with the word that he had not gotten his money's worth.
That taken care of, it was time to see about my intr
uder.
I didn't do any seeing. When I got back to where I could see my place, a troop of Tates were going inside, stepping over the groaning ratman like he was something that fell behind the horse. In a moment they marched back out with an angry Tinnie.
So there you go. Exactly my kind of luck. If I found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I'd break my leg running toward it and have to lie there watching some other clown walk away with it while I did my groaning.
I let the street clear. Then I went and got a bucket of beer and locked myself inside. Nobody disturbed me.
14
I'd planned to surprise everybody by showing up at the Tate place at the crack of dawn, ready to travel. But I had a dream about Loghyr bones.
Maybe it was the beer. That beer was green. But I knew better than to ignore it. It could be a summons from the Dead Man.
The worst thing about going out in the morning is that the sun is there. It slaps you right in the eyes. When you go back inside you can't see squat.
Squat was what I saw when I went into the Dead Man's place. It was as dark as a crypt in there.
About time, Garrett. Did you come via Khaphé?
"That wasn't a dream, eh?"
No.
"What do you want?"
I do not have the resources to follow all your adventures from afar. If you want my help and advice, you have to report to me occasionally.
I figured that was as near as he would get to saying he owed me. I would take what I was given. "What do you need?"
Details of what you have seen and learned since your last visit.
So I gave it to him, without leaving anything out.
He pondered awhile. Buy yourself some poison rings, Garrett. Carry a boot knife.
That was not the advice I expected. "Why?"
Are you known for such things?
"No."
Do the unexpected.
"I hiked all the way over here for that?"
It is the best I can do given the information you make available.