Gilded Latten Bones gp-13

by Glen Cook

  Oh, sugar? What the h-e-double-broomsticks did that mean?

  While the mental stuff happened I dragged myself out of bed. My marvelous business partner, whose feelings I had just so bravely taken into account, sniffed around with increasing agitation.

  "You had a woman in here last night!" There was an angry edge to her voice. After several bellicose sniffs round the bed, though, she relaxed.

  Maybe the Dead Man brought her up to speed. Or she worked the whole thing out with her mutant nose. Garrett had avoided temptation.

  Oh, sugar, because we are about to have unexpected guests. And you need to be here to help manage them.

  An image of an angry band of Children of the Light formed in my mind. They made a big black blot in the street.

  "What's the big deal? Ignore them."

  I would rather not. More than most who come threatening grief or mayhem, these old men could cause us some discomfort.

  Naturally, he didn't explain.

  With Singe's assistance I made myself presentable and was ready before the hammering on the door commenced. I used the peephole, saw a lot of black clothing. I let the folks stew till the Dead Man thought they were ready.

  My first impression was, wow! I'd better send Singe for Cap'n Roger. Half these guys were going to expire before sundown. Their median age had to be in triple digits. The youngest looked like he started yearning for the good old days when the Dead Man was a pup.

  Four had reached my stoop.

  "Howdy, fathers. How can I help you?" How had they survived the climb? "If you're collecting for your church I have to tell you we're Orthodox here." By birth. I hadn't been to a service in an age.

  "You have Brother Hoto Pepper confined here. We have come to take him away."

  The Dead Man sent, Pull the ugly one inside and shut the door. Lock up, then bring him in here.

  Excellent. We had a plan. All I needed to do was to pick a winner.

  Old Bones had no patience. One old man developed a halo. I grabbed, pulled, slammed, locked. Well, Singe did the locking while I held the door shut.

  Our victim shambled dispiritedly off to the party room. The Children of the Light outside waxed enthusiastic in their threats. The Dead Man showed no concern.

  I asked, "You need me now?"

  Not right away.

  I headed for the kitchen. I was hungry.

  I didn't get far with correcting that.

  You may allow our visitors to leave, now.

  I pushed back from the table, marched off to do my duty. "You sure?"

  There is nothing more that I can retrieve from any of them.

  Two old guys in black and the poisoner Kolda-pardon; the apothecary Kolda-awaited me outside the Dead Man's doorway.

  Kolda will be gone only a short while. He will gather some specifics to help with Playmate. Please make sure that Brother Hoto does exit the premises. He is reluctant to rejoin his own kind. He fears that they will ask him the same questions I did, but using tools.

  I expected a hassle from the crowd when I released their brethren. That did not happen. The Dead Man had tamed or confused them. And they had worn themselves out chipping the paint off the door.

  I closed up and went back to reacquaint myself with breakfast.

  As I passed my former office I noted that Morley's only company was Dollar Dan. The caretaker ratwomen had come and gone. The other guards had gone with them.

  We do not need them now that there are no outsiders in the house. Mr. Dollar can go once you finish eating.

  I trekked on and in time assailed a stack of griddle cakes. Dean didn't make those often. He was in a good mood. I mentioned it.

  "Perhaps because of the excitement yesterday. It took me back."

  I looked at him askance.

  He didn't change his story.

  46

  I shut the door behind Dollar Dan. He would come back later, to sit with Morley while I was upstairs snoring.

  "And snoring it had better be," Singe told me, remembering the woman smell. She did not like Furious Tide of Light today. I wasn't sure why.

  I can't quite work out how Singe decides who she likes and who she doesn't, nor why she will change her mind overnight. Her brain doesn't work like mine. I'm sure her sense of smell has something to do with it.

  I settled in near Morley, a pot of tea at hand. The Dead Man filled me in on what he had learned from our visitors, including tidbits from the elders who had come for Brother Hoto. Of interest was the fact that Winger and the Remora were drifting apart, the drift mainly hers. She couldn't handle his success.

  We do not know much more about the threat to the city. We do know who has been warned off it. We have eyes and ears watching and listening, now. We know we will get Mr. Dotes back. Additionally, we have set in motion actions that offer a chance of rescuing Playmate from the natural monster devouring him.

  That was good news. "Did you get anything from the Windwalker?"

  Vague amusement, presumably at my expense. That woman is the most simple-minded, empty-headed genius I have ever encountered. She can focus her entire being on the moment. You could do far worse.

  "Excuse me?"

  As a practical matter. She would provide all the fireworks-and more-with none of the drama of your Miss Tate.

  "Uh. ."

  Miss Algarda is ready to grant her devotion. That would be unreserved and absolute. She considers you an ideal candidate. Although she is an immense and formidable power, and a genius professionally, her emotional world is simpler than that of Deal Relway.

  "That's scary."

  It is. She does not grasp nuance or shades of gray.

  The answer to why me might be tucked inside what he had sent. A different kind of sociopath, she would not need time to work things out. Is/is not, with nothing in between. "She would be clever enough not to push me, wouldn't she?"

  You could be right in considering her a special kind of sociopath. She is smart enough to show the behavior she has seen in courtships. But she will not be resilient if she is mislead, mistreated, emotionally abused, or blackmailed.

  "I believe I get the idea."

  Good. You are staring into the eyes of a big responsibility.

  I had an uncomfortable notion that I knew what he meant.

  Dotes' First Law. Keep your hands off a woman crazier than you are. Which I observed in the breach. Furious Tide of Light would be, "You Touch It, You Bought It."

  But I didn't believe she was crazy. Not the way girlfriends usually are.

  Her head worked different, sure. She had grown up sheltered from life. She coped now because she didn't go out much. When she did she dealt with people she scared so bad they couldn't imagine messing with her.

  Hers was a unique emotional realm but it was the only one she knew.

  Part of me did find her damned intriguing. It hunted loop-holes in Dotes' Law.

  That was the part exhausted by squabbling with Tinnie.

  "What do you think, Old Bones?"

  I think it is none of my business. I think you are an adult now, and I should not tinker-unless, as was the case with Singe this morning, you start running your mouth with no thought to the consequences.

  I was stunned. By making that carefully neutral statement he had told me something I'm sure he did not intend. He had doubts about Tinnie. After all this time.

  I would have expected him to endorse the redhead and reject the Windwalker. I wasn't in her class and she came with a whole different drama. (I wasn't in Tinnie's class, either, but a different definition of class was operative there.)

  Maybe he was tired of the drama, too.

  Still, I carefully reviewed his communications since he had labeled Furious Tide of Light an empty-headed genius. I got a strange impression that he did prefer the Windwalker but would be careful not to say so.

  Off I rambled into my own internal drama land, wondering what it was about the beautiful but weird sorceress that made her a preferable mate.

&nbs
p; Morley tried to say something.

  47

  Morley was awake.

  His eyes were halfway open, fluttering. He wanted to say something.

  Having been in his position myself, I told him, "You're at my place on Macunado Street, being watched out for by me, Singe, the Dead Man, Belinda, John Stretch, the Civil Guard, and the godsdamned Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light. Somebody really wanted to close you down, buddy. Oh. You've been out for more than a week. They tried to poison you, too."

  In retrospect, that actually helped. His wounds healed a lot while he was unconscious.

  He tried to sit up. He got nowhere. His wounds were not healed enough. He felt them, too. And now had no strength left.

  "Water!" was the first word I understood.

  Then Dean was there, not only with water but with warm chicken broth. Singe was only a moment behind. She helped lift Morley so Dean could deliver the water and liquid chow.

  After the stress level declined and the broth began to work, Morley croaked, "Tell me."

  "Be easier for the Dead Man to. ."

  "You tell."

  I told my part and what I knew to be true with the precision I used reporting to the Dead Man.

  Morley did not seem much interested in who had stabbed him. He was intensely interested in all the whos and what happeneds after he went down. Singe and I added what we had heard from unreliable sources.

  Everything given him, I moved on to my own curiosities. "What were you doing in that part of town, anyway? Not that you don't have a right to go wherever you damned well please. But, unless things changed lately, you don't have much to do with those people."

  Sometimes I think he was embarrassed by his ethnic background.

  He was not yet in any condition for real talk. He eyed me in disbelief. Then his handsome face collapsed into despair. "I can't remember!" Moments later, "He couldn't root it out?"

  "No. Unless he didn't recognize it because it didn't connect with everything else." That was my theory. Morley had been involved in something else entirely when he walked blind into something deadly.

  Morley frowned. I took that to mean he wanted an explanation.

  "Sarge thinks you were up there paying off your fiancee's family."

  Morley looked puzzled but I didn't feel any honest emotion behind that. I didn't pursue it.

  Old Bones could fill me in later.

  I did ask, "How do you justify Belinda Contague against Dotes' First Law?"

  "There are twelve kinds of crazy, Garrett. Romantic attraction is the worst." His first complete statement, and, probably, one of the truest things he ever said.

  I am getting nothing more now than I did while Mr. Dotes was unconscious. There is nothing there. Though it would appear that chunks of memory may have been lost to concussion or that drug.

  "A pity."

  Indeed. All that can be done now is to protect him till he can protect himself.

  "He'll want to get after this before he's physically ready."

  Should he be so inclined I will make sure he falls asleep on his way to the door.

  I chuckled.

  Morley scowled.

  I explained. "Not to worry. We're just planning your future. You'll thank us later."

  He hurt too much to be amused.

  I said, "There's some silliness taken care of. What do you figure on doing?"

  "I'm going back to sleep." And he did, just like that. And it was the best thing he could do once he was full of high-potency chicken broth.

  Soon he would get full-bodied chicken soup with noodles and bits of bird.

  The Dead Man suggested that I forget Mr. Dotes for a while. I should go relax with Singe, who could help bring me up to speed.

  That made me feel like I had been cast as a spear-carrier.

  I had few options if I wanted to stay close to Morley.

  Old Bones didn't mind not keeping me posted, but Singe had to know stuff because she managed operations and handled the money.

  She commiserated over my problems with the redhead. "Pack up your pride and go talk to her. Morley will be safe."

  I hemmed and hawed but I'm no good at stalling while trying to find plausible excuses for avoiding something that could turn out ugly.

  "Good gods, Garrett! What are you? Thirteen and an only child? Go talk to her. What's the worst she can do?"

  I told her what the worst was.

  "After all the time, trouble, training, and emotion she has invested in you?"

  "Yes. After all that. She's turned into a pretty selfish girl."

  "How did that happen? Who gave her the idea that whatever Tinnie wants, Tinnie deserves and gets it? Garrett, you are a first-class dum-dum. Tinnie has been in your life since my mother was a pup. She came and went a few times but she was always back after whoever was distracting you moved on."

  That was harsh but essentially factual. Both ways. Tinnie had had some gentlemen suitors. I had had. . Maya, Eleanor, even Belinda.

  I scowled, hoping Tinnie's man friends had not gotten as close as I had to some of those ladies. Maya had been determined to marry me. She never managed to get me to hold still long enough. She had gone on to do much better. And I had gone gaga for Eleanor despite her having been murdered long before I ever met her. Her ghost and her memory were an important part of my life for a long time.

  Singe told me, "You need to leave the yesteryear baggage behind. Get back to Tinnie being who she was when she was your special best friend who happened to be a girl."

  I wondered if she was being coached from across the hall.

  "Good stuff, Singe. Stuff worth thinking about."

  She preened.

  "What do you think of the Windwalker?"

  "Who?"

  "The Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light."

  "The sorceress who tagged along when I backtracked to the warehouse where all the horror stuff was? The woman who was in your room last night?"

  "Her."

  "What about her?" She didn't have much of a ruff but it was up.

  "You remember her from the thing with the ghosts and giant bugs?"

  Several seconds of silence. "All right. That was the same woman?"

  "Singe."

  "What about her?"

  "Singe, I'm asking your opinion of that woman based upon your exposure, interaction, and magical nose."

  "I don't have an opinion. How could I? My personal exposure hasn't been enough to develop one. Probably less than an hour over both our lifetimes. Anything I said would be speculative. So. Why is my opinion important?"

  That had a high bull-poop content. I didn't challenge it. "Because she's important to me. Because you're important to me. I'm extremely attracted to her, physically and intellectually. And she says she's going to marry me."

  The Windwalker did say that, didn't she? Or did I dream it? No matter. It was out of the bag now.

  Singe said nothing for several minutes, though she did spout the occasional interrogative sentence as she discussed this revolting development with our deceased friend.

  Singe was, apparently, astonished by the Dead Man's positive attitude toward the Windwalker and his lessened enthusiasm toward Tinnie.

  I must say that, though forewarned, I didn't understand him, either. And he offered no explanation.

  I needed to think about that. The mix for consideration should include not just what I knew about Tinnie and the Windwalker-whose given name I did not yet know-but, also, what the Dead Man knew and never shared.

  I should get Tinnie to visit. Old Bones hadn't burgled her head in ages.

  I asked the air, "Do I need to be scared?"

  I got no answer. Of course.

  Then I got distracted by supper and Kolda's return. Then it was time to supervise the ratwomen who came to clean Morley. They were amazed and amused by a gallant salute that reared up while they changed his diaper.

  He was on his way back for sure.

  The caretakers gave way to a brace of armed
ratmen. Singe's brother came with them. We settled in her office. We drank some beer. John Stretch had become an interesting person in his own right. I wondered how many more geniuses his mother had produced.

  I wasted a lot of time wondering about nonproductive stuff.

  48

  Confusion. A lot of beer went down during the discussions with Singe and John Stretch. Then came bed, me thinking this was like the good old days. All that commotion about relationships was silly-ass fuss with no enduring real-world significance.

  Singe had bullied me into reaffirming my commitment to Tinnie. She wasn't hot to have Furious Tide of Light as her stepmom.

  So the woman had a few quirks. Didn't we all? The problem she had was breaking loose from her father.

  As I noted, the Algardas might be weird and have dark secrets but they were still caring, kind people where others were concerned.

  Such was my tangle of thought as I drifted off, not nearly as reconciled to the redhead as Singe hoped. I left the window ajar. I told myself that was because I needed the night air to cool my room.

  More than air got in. And had done nothing to cool anything down.

  Furious Tide of Light played more fair than most women. She knew she could turn me into a sock puppet with some eye-batting, heavy breathing, and a dash of suggestive dialog. Women understand these things by the time they're ten. Some just don't learn to trust their instincts.

  A desirable woman who catches a man in bed in the middle of the night won't need to work hard to have her way.

  The Windwalker was gentle, thoughtful, and careful not to unfairly exploit her advantage. She could have made the situation more chaste only by standing off and touching me with a ten-foot pole. Once I woke up all the way, though, I took over. The natural Garrett charm kicked in, made sure she found me completely unappetizing.

  I had done honors to a lot of fine beer earlier. It now yearned to be free. My choices were to be embarrassed a little or embarrassed a lot.

  I chose the chamber pot over wetting myself. Not behavior accepted in the drawing rooms of the upper classes but not utterly gauche and unacceptable in mine. Elimination processes are natural and necessary. And I was polite enough to step into a corner and face away.