by Glen Cook
"Ah," Max said. "Another business opportunity. First time this week we've been offered the chance to get in on the ground floor, isn't it, Manvil?"
I pretended to miss his sarcasm. "I'm not looking for anybody to go in on it with me. I have that part worked out. If I could just have Manvil give me his honest opinion of the stuff in the kid's workshop, and if it matches mine, I'll see if the Tates want to manufacture them. Now that the war's over there isn't much demand for the army boots and leather whatnots they've been making for the last sixty years."
Max asked, "What's your take, Manvil?" He was well aware of my precarious relationship with one of the Tate girls. And he thought I was a raving romantic instead of a tough, lone, honest man battling to scourge evil from the mean streets, which is what I know that I really am. As long as I don't have to get up before noon to work the flails.
"I think friend Garrett might be even less devious than we've always thought. You weren't going to cut us in, Garrett?"
"Huh? Why should I? You guys already got more money than God and more work than—"
Max stilled me with a wave. "See what he's got, Manvil. Garrett, Willard Tate is a good choice. He's an excellent manager. And he does have that gorgeous redheaded niece besides." He knows about Tinnie because Tinnie and his daughter Alyx are friends. "I like your thinking there." Maybe because a Garrett involved with a Tinnie Tate again meant a Garrett not involved with any Weider daughters.
We may be friends but he's also a father.
Max leaned his head back and closed his eyes. End of consultation. For now.
Manvil actually smiled. I'd managed to get his buddy interested in something, at least for a little while.
58
"Sounds like a riot," I said. Gilbey and I, in the Weider coach, were nearing Playmate's stable.
Possibly it was a neighborhood war. A lot of sturdy subject types, armed with knives and cudgels, were trying to adjust the larcenous attitudes of the biggest daytime mob of ratmen I'd ever seen. There were dozens of them. And things weren't going their way. The street was littered with ratmen already down. The survivors were trying to retreat, burdened with booty. And just as Manvil and I arrived the Domains of Chaos spewed another ingredient into the cauldron.
At least twenty more ratmen appeared. They attacked the smash-and-grab guys with a ferocity I hadn't seen since the islands. They were determined to leave bodies behind. And they got as good as they gave.
I leaned out the coach door and told our driver, "Just stay real still and try to think invisible thoughts till this blows over."
"What's happening?" Gilbey asked. There was no color left in his face. He didn't get out on the town much.
"We seem to have strayed into the middle of a factional skirmish amongst members of the ratman underworld. What it was before it turned into that I won't know until I get a chance to look around." But I had a feeling it boded no good for me and my industrial schemes.
"Your life is never dull, is it?"
"A little dull wouldn't hurt, some days. I've thought about calling my autobiography Trouble Follows Me. The problem with that is, the troubles in my life are usually waiting when I get there."
The battle outside turned tricornered. Playmate's sturdy subject type neighbors couldn't tell one ratman from another. And most of them just plain welcomed a chance to whack on a thieving ratman anyway.
Whistles sounded in the distance. The Guards were gathering. I expected that, like the Watch before them, they would move in only after they were confident that they had nobody to deal with but people who couldn't crawl away.
I slipped down out of the coach. "Better stay in here for now, Manvil."
"No problem. I used up my adventurous side a long time ago."
One thing that's never in short supply around Playmate's stable is the rough hemp twine his hay-and-straw man uses to bundle his products before he brings them into town. Playmate saves the twine and gives it back.
I gathered a load and started tying rats. Neighbors thought that was a marvelous idea and joined right in.
"Not that one," I told one of the sturdy subjects. "The ones wearing the green armbands are the good guys. Sort of. We can fail to see them getting away if they're able to go."
That earned me some dark looks but no real arguments. Emotions were surprisingly cool, considering.
I tied fourteen ratmen personally before the Guard arrived. There were more still unbound. Almost all of the neighbors had started to carry Playmate's possessions back into the stable. They ignored instructions not to disturb the evidence. Most of that, I noted, was stuff that had been looted from Kip's workshop.
I returned to the Weider coach. "Come on. Let's see if they left anything I can show you."
To my delight, the three-wheel, my three-wheel, hadn't been disturbed. "This's the main thing I want to make. The biggest thing. Right here. Watch this." I climbed aboard, zoomed around as best I could in the confined space. "I can see every rich family in town wanting one of these for a toy. Come on. Try it."
As Gilbey was trying to get the hang of making the big front wheel turn in the correct direction I caught a sound from behind me and whirled, expecting an attack from some desperado ratman who'd been knocked down earlier or who'd gone into hiding when the tide had turned. What I found was a weak, cross-eyed Playmate trying to get up from where he'd been laid low by a blow to the head.
I gave him a hand up, which wasn't the best thing to do for him in his condition. I supported him till he could get his backside planted on a bale of hay and his spine pressed against a post. "How bad does it look, Garrett?" I was checking the top of his head.
"You're going to need a real surgeon. You've got a piece of scalp peeled back. The wound needs cleaning. You need a bunch of stitches. You're going to be enjoying headaches for days. What did they want?"
"They never told me but they meant to haul off everything Kip ever made."
"Didn't I warn you?'
"Yes. You did. How's Winger?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen her. She supposed to be here? I'll look around. Manvil, would you keep an eye on my friend, here? You remember how to deal with a head injury? Don't let him go to sleep."
I found no sign of Winger anywhere. I went back to Playmate. "You sure Winger was still here?"
"I still have fresh blisters on my ears from the language she used when this started, Garrett. She was busting up ratmen like she was killing snakes or something. They won't be good to her if they took her away."
"You Garrett?"
I jumped. I hadn't heard this guy come in. He was way shorter than me but plenty wide and all muscle. He had big, brushy eyebrows that met in the middle over mean-looking little blue eyes that, surely, concealed a bright mind. He was clad in businesslike apparel that managed to look shoddy even though it was relatively new. I knew what he was before I asked, "Who wants to know?"
"I do. Lucius Browling. Extraordinary Guard Services. Reporting straight to the director." Lucius Browling didn't offer to shake. Neither was he rude or confrontational.
"The director? What director?"
"Director Relway. Of the Emergency Committee for Royal Security."
Good old Relway. Count on him to paint the outside of his house of righteous thugs with colorful, high-sounding monikers. Monikers that would change as fast as people figured out that each was a hollow mask for something more sinister, probably.
"In that case, Garrett just left. If you hurry you can catch him. He's a little weasely-faced guy with a skinny black mustache... You know, all of you guys would get along with the world a lot better if you could just figure out what it means to have a sense of humor."
"Quite possibly you have a point. The director occasionally mentions how much he values your opinion. Perhaps you can raise the matter personally once we get to the al-Khar." He raised a hand to forestall my next question. "Colonel Block and the director both want to consult you concerning recent events. I'm just a messenger. Just one of a do
zen EGS men in the field, hoping to run into you at one of your known haunts."
Implications, implications. They knew I wasn't at home...
There was no point fighting it. "I'll be with you in a minute, then. Let me wrap up here." I stepped over to Gilbey. Manvil had been smart enough to get off the three-wheel before any outsider could get a good idea of what he was doing. Right now he was just a civilian who happened to be hanging around. "Tell Max. Let me know what you guys think." I turned. "Playmate. I want you to go see Drak Shevesh about your head. I've used him. He's the best there is. And it won't bother him that you're human."
I told Lucius Browling I was ready. He didn't cheer. He didn't say much, either. Which was just as well. I was a little preoccupied trying to spot the Goddamn Parrot and being worried about Winger.
I did tell Browling, "If your people have any real interest in what happened here you should round up a bounty hunter named Bic Gonlit. He had something to do with it somehow."
I was getting piqued with Bic. He was as stubborn about sticking to his job as I could be.
59
Colonel Block was in a formal mood when Browling led me into the biggest chamber I'd yet seen inside the city prison. It appeared to be several cells converted into a meeting room. There was a large table of mediocre quality, some uncomfortable chairs, no windows, and not nearly enough light. You could hide werewolves and vampires in the shadowy corners. Today those only held Deal Relway, playing ghost. Lucius Browling vanished as soon as I'd been delivered.
Three other, silent men were present. Nobody introduced anybody.
I didn't push. Those three likely told Block what to do and when to do it, and whether or not to smile while he did it. They had that Hill look.
Block said, "We've gotten back our first reports from the country, Garrett."
"Wow. You guys move fast when you want to. I take it something didn't go the way you wanted."
"Our people found physical evidence and local witnesses to corroborate your report. But your silver elves were gone."
So. The girl who got away must've come back to rescue the others. Elven enemies possibly having more in common than silver elves and people do. Or maybe it had to do with wanting a ride home.
Block continued, "The disk-shaped flying engine was gone, as well. The pear-shaped flying engines had been destroyed. Melted down in a heat so fierce they'd sunk right down into the earth. A search of the area produced nothing but these." He showed me several of the gray fetish things, similar but not identical to one another.
Without invitation I suggested, "If they were that thorough about cleaning up after themselves you'd better consider the possibility that those things there were meant to be found."
A small stir. The observers exchanged uneasy glances.
"You been holding anything back on us, Garrett?" Relway asked from his shadow.
"Deal," Block cautioned. "Garrett? It's a pertinent question, despite Deal's tone."
I wondered if Relway ever got to be the nice guy. "And the answer is, probably. Without meaning to. Remember, I brought this stuff to you guys. I don't have any idea what you need to know, let alone anything at all about the much vaster category of ‘want to know.' "
"We don't need to get into any pissing contests, Garrett. I have a job. All I want to do is to get it done."
"And I'm not up for any macho headbutting, either. Where we have trouble is, you don't want me to know why you want to know what you want to know. You even probably don't want me to know what you want to know. Which'll really make it impossible to answer your questions intelligently. But you'll still put the blame on me when you don't hear what you want to hear. Chances are good you'll even accuse me of lying or holding out."
One of the observers made a gesture. Block cocked his head slightly. Although I wasn't included in I understood that there was some communicating going on in much the same fashion as when I conversed with the Dead Man. A very small handful of the most powerful of our wizardly overlords have been able to develop that talent.
I was able to read the emotional overtones.
A man entered the room. His interruption earned him frowns from everyone but me. I didn't care. He whispered to Relway briefly. Relway studied me as though he'd just suffered a mild surprise.
That did nothing to make me more comfortable.
Colonel Block admitted, "Your argument has considerable merit, Garrett."
In private I would've accused him of being a poetaster or some other artsy critter equally heinous. In front of people, where I might embarrass him, I said only, "My thinking is that we're all on the same side despite maybe having different goals... "
There was a sign from another of the observers. I shut up because I could sense that this particular guy had taken a negative shine to me and wasn't likely to invest a great deal of patience in me.
Block said, "These silver elves seem to control a lot of powerful sorcery, the flight thing being only the most obvious. We'd very much like to explore some of those secrets. And right now you're the closest thing to an expert on them as exists."
"And I've given you everything... Wait a minute. There's Casey. Though you should know about Casey on your own."
"Casey?"
"The only silver elf I've actually talked to. His name is something really weird. He prefers Casey. He claims to be a cop. He says he was sent out to arrest two elves nobody's seen except maybe one crazy teenage boy. A boy who, after I grilled him mercilessly, turned out to have no clue how to find any elves. A boy who couldn't even find his own way home without help. Casey wasn't sure what crimes the fugitives had committed. And he didn't care. That was for his judges to worry about. He had an apartment... " I gave the directions and details and recommended extreme caution on the parts of any investigators. Questions arose. I answered as many as I could.
Relway had another visit from the whisperer. He took an opportunity to do some whispering of his own, to Colonel Block, before he left the room in a hurry. To put together a raid on Casey's place, I assumed.
Once he was gone, Block said, "There're people here looking for you, Garrett. Legal type people. Did Browling do something wrong? Did he manhandle you or insult you or in any way demonstrate a lack of courtesy?"
I paused, definitely puzzled, but then observed, "Either you're really naive or you just don't understand what you and Relway have created. There isn't any need for Lucius Browling to be anything but Lucius Browling for alarms to sound and people to get upset."
He didn't get it. We didn't lapse into a philosophical pissing contest in front of the wizards. For such they surely were, in mufti.
"You aren't a prisoner, Garrett. You aren't under arrest. You're an expert we called in to help us with a particular problem. And I wish you'd tell those people that. Evidently they're making life very difficult for the staff up front."
"They won't go away just because you trot me out. What kind of legal beagle is going to take the word of a man who's in the hands of—"
"Thank you, Mr. Garrett. I suspect that I've just learned a valuable lesson. And that I'll be happy that Relway wasn't here to pick it up as easily. Might I request your presence and assistance for as long as it takes Relway to investigate that elf's hideout. I'll provide a small honorarium."
"I'll go tell the folks in the waiting room. But if they're the kind of people I think they are, they won't leave until I do."
Block glowered.
And I was right about the lawyers.
60
The Casey raid was a disaster for the secret police. Almost everything had been removed from the place except for an extensive array of booby traps, most of them so cunning there was no way to detect them before they did their evil work.
"There were two corpses in the place when we got there," Relway told us. "According to people in the building both were tenants who sprang traps while they were looting the place. They'd been there a while. They were getting ripe. The same people told us the elf came back this
morning, beat-up and dirty. He did whatever he did in his apartment, then went through the building reclaiming his stolen stuff, which he loaded into a waiting wagon. He did leave a few things behind because he didn't have time to recover everything. He was still there, at it, just ten minutes before we arrived. But, somehow, he knew we were coming. At ten minutes he dropped everything and took off."
I offered a suggestion. "Look for a livery stable in the neighborhood. A place that has donkeys stabled. Possibly for rent. And don't count on being able to recognize this guy if you run into him. He loves disguises. And he has sorceries that help him look like other people. And some of the other elves have demonstrated the ability to make themselves invisible."
"What was that about a donkey?"
I rehashed my first encounter with Casey, disguised as Bic Gonlit. And then explained that the real Bic Gonlit seemed to be making his living working for ratman crime bosses these days. And that I suspected that the raid on Playmate's stable had been incited by the false Bic.
Block wanted to explore the whole Bic Gonlit question more closely. There seemed to be one long coincidence right in the middle of things, that being that both Bic Gonlits would cross my path on unrelated matters.
"It probably wasn't total coincidence," I mused. "But I'm confident that there's no grand plot. In order to pretend to be Bic Gonlit, Casey would've had to get close to the real Bic to study him. So Bic's probably had an unexpected friend during recent months. You might see what he has to say about that."
Colonel Block gave me a hard look. I'd just set poor Bic up for some difficult times. But Block said, "Suppose there isn't a coincidence? Is it possible that this Casey wanted to pull you in? Maybe so he'd have somebody who really knows TunFaire looking for the two elves he wants to find?"
I considered the almost compulsive need I had, at times, for finding Lastyr and Noodiss. "It could be. I think it could be." So did that make it the grand plot that I was confident didn't exist?