by Glen Cook
Then I reminded myself that when I remind myself, what I'm doing is looking for justification.
Someone knocked. That saved me confusion and stole the General's opportunity to get righteous.
I'd sensed that coming.
"Enter."
Dellwood opened the door. "There's a Mr. Tharpe to see Mr. Garrett."
The General looked at me. I told him. "That's the man I had trying to trace certain items."
"Bring him up, Dellwood."
Dellwood closed the door. I asked, "Here?"
"Is he likely to report something you don't want me to hear?"
"No. It just seemed an inconvenience to you."
"Not at all."
Hell. He was fishing for entertainment again. He didn't care what Saucerhead had to tell me, much. He just didn't want to be alone.
"Mr. Garrett, could I impose on you to build the fire a little?"
Damn. I was hoping he wouldn't notice it was down to a volcanic level. I wondered if Kaid had a full-time job just hauling in fuel.
Saucerhead arrived lugging a bag. In his paw it seemed small. He hulks like a cave bear. Dellwood seemed a little intimidated. The old man was impressed. He cracked, "Cook sees him, she'll fall in love." That was the first I'd heard him try for humor. "That'll be all, Dellwood." Dellwood got out.
Saucerhead wiped his brow and said, "Why don't you open a goddamned window? Who's the old prune, Garrett?"
"The principal. Be nice."
"Right."
"What's up?" I was surprised he'd make a trip out, considering what he was getting paid.
"I maybe found some of the stuff." He dumped the sack on the writing table. Silver candlesticks. They wouldn't have been remarkable if silver hadn't become important lately.
"General?" I asked. "This your stuff?"
"Look on their bases. If they belong to the family, there'll be a seahorse chop beside the smith's."
I looked. Little sea critters. "We have a lead, looks like. What's the story, Saucerhead?"
Saucerhead has a kind of pipsqueak voice when he's just making conversation. Doesn't go with his size at all. He said, "I was jawing with some guys at Morley's last night, bitching about the job. Looked like it wasn't going anywhere. Talking about this and that, you know how it is. Then this one guy asks did I think there might be a reward for the stuff. I didn't know, you never told Morley if there was or not, so I said maybe and did he know something?"
"To make a long story short?"
"He knew some fences I didn't. Outside guys. So this morning I go to check them. First one I hit, he has the sticks. We talk a little, I threaten a little, he blusters a little, I make mention of how I know he don't have a connection with the kingpin and I happen to know Chodo personal, would he like me to arrange an introduction? All of a sudden he's eager to help. He loans me the sticks. I promise to bring them back."
Which meant he would and, if the General tried to grab them, Saucerhead would walk through him and the rest of the house. He keeps his promises.
"Got you. Can the fence finger the thief?"
"He don't know squat. Bought the stuff wholesale from somebody out in the country. He'll sell the wholesaler's name."
"Did you follow that, General?"
"I believe so. This dealer in stolen goods bought the candlesticks from another dealer closer to home, here. For a price he'll sell the man out."
"That's it."
"Go beat it out of him."
"It doesn't work that way, General. He offered a straight deal. We should follow through on those terms."
"Deal with criminals as though they were honorable men?"
"You have all your life, with those bandits off the Hill. But let's not argue. We have a lead. We could settle the theft problem today. Saucerhead. How much does he want?"
I was thinking long-term now. An unconnected fence? He'd need friends. He could be nurtured and stroked on the head and maybe become a good source someday. If he stayed alive. People aren't scared of fences the way they're scared of Morley Dotes or Chodo Contague.
Saucerhead named a price that was pleasantly low. "It's a bargain, General. Go with it. How much more are you willing to lose to avoid spending a few marks?"
"Collect from Dellwood. He handles the household monies."
That sounded like a cue for me to get away from a place where I was uncomfortable. "I'll take care of this, sir."
Maybe Stantnor sensed my discomfort. He didn't protest. But there was a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.
I'd never seen it in an old person before, but I'm not around them much. I'd seen it in children, the pain when an adult doesn't have time to be bothered with them.
That hit me in the spot where I think of myself as one of the good guys. Guilt. Its lack is something I envy Morley. Morley never feels guilty. Morley does what he wants or has to do and is puzzled by the behavior of those of us who had mothers. Where does it come from, that niggling little nasty?
23
Saucerhead said, "That old boy didn't look good, Garrett. What's he got?"
"I don't know. You're going to help me find out."
"Say what?"
"Dellwood, the General said give my friend enough to cover some upcoming expenses. How much do you need, Saucerhead?" Hand him a chance to make his trip worth the trouble.
He didn't bite. Not very big. "Twenty. The guy tries to jack me up, I'll pull his ears off." He would. And wrap them with a bow.
"Get the name, then get the guy. Right? But find a doctor somewhere and bring him out here, too."
"A doctor? You lost me somewhere, Garrett. What you want a doctor for?"
"To look at the old man. He's got a thing about croakers. Only way to get one close is fool him. So you do that. All right?"
"You're paying the freight."
"Hurry all you can."
"Right." He was supposed to be too simple for sarcasm but I smelled a load there.
Dellwood gave him twenty marks. He left. I went to the front door, watched him head out in a buggy he'd probably rented from Playmate, a mutual friend. I grumbled about his expenses. The old man had given me a nice advance but I hadn't counted on quite so many expenses.
Dellwood joined me. "May I ask what that was all about, sir?"
"You can ask. Don't mean I'll tell you. Part of the job. You going to tell the General I'm sneaking a doctor in on him?"
He gave it a think. "No sir. It's appropriate. Except for yesterday he's been sinking fast. He's pretending to bear up today, but last night is gnawing at him, too. If there's a way... Let me know if I can aid in the deception."
"I will. I have a lot to do today." Like what? Not that much specific. "I'll let you know before Tharpe gets back."
"Very well, sir."
We parted. I went upstairs to see if Morley was in the suite. He'd have a part to play. As I reached the top balcony I spied my friend in white across the way. I waved. She surprised me by waving back.
Morley wasn't there. Just like him, not to be handy when I needed him. Thoughtless of him. I grabbed my coat and headed out.
The blonde was still there. She wasn't watching for me. I decided to take one more crack at sneaking up on her. Slipped up to the loft, across, went down.
Ha! Still there!
Only... My imagination had run away with me. This wasn't my blonde. This was Jennifer wearing white and not the same white the blonde wore. She smiled kind of sadly as I approached her. "What's the matter?" I asked.
"Life." She leaned her elbows on the rail. I joined her, leaving a few feet between us. Below, our hero remained locked in mortal combat with the dragon. Chain passed without giving them a glance. I knew how the knight felt. Us heroes like to be applauded for our efforts.
I answered Jennifer with one of those "Uhm?" noises that mean you'll listen if your companion wants to share her troubles.
"Am I ugly, Garrett?"
I glanced at her. No. She wasn't. "Not hardly." I've known several equally gorgeous
women who were more insecure about their looks than your less-than-average-looking ladies. "The guy who didn't notice would have to be dead."
"Thanks." Trace of a smile, trace of warmth. She moved maybe three inches closer. "That helps." Half a minute. "But nobody does notice. Even that I'm female."
How do you tell a woman it isn't her looks, it's her inside? That, nice as she looks, she feels like a black widow spider?
You don't. You fib a little to avoid the cruelty and hate.
Even standing close, with her radiating a need to be wanted, I couldn't find any interest inside me.
I began to worry about me.
"You don't notice me."
"I notice you plenty." Only somebody with very skewed standards, like maybe a ratman, would call her hard on the eyes. "But I'm taken." That's always an out.
"Oh." That infinite sorrow again. That's what it was. Sorrow. Sorrow that stretched back to the dawn of her days. An abyss that could gobble the world. "What's her name?"
"Tinnie. Tinnie Tate."
"Is she attractive?"
"Yes." The redhead is in the same class as Jennifer. That is, the howl-at-the-moon class. But we have our problems, one of which is that we aren't going anywhere. Sort of a can't-live-with-and-can't-live-without arrangement, neither of us with enough confidence to risk commitment.
I might have, with Maya... Or maybe she just said she was going to marry me so often that I accepted the possibility. I wondered what she was doing. Wondered if I was supposed to track her down. Wondered if she'd ever be back.
"You're awful thoughtful, Garrett."
"Tinnie does that to me. And this place... This house... "
"Don't be apologetic. I live here. I know. It's a sad place. A ghost town all by itself, haunted by might-have-beens. Some of us live in the past and the rest live for a future that'll never come. And Cook, who lives in another world, is the rock that holds us together."
She wasn't so much talking to me as putting feelings into words.
"There's a road down front, Garrett. Less than half a mile away. Its other end is TunFaire, Karenta, the world. I haven't been past the front gate since I was fourteen."
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-two."
"Who's holding you here?"
"Nobody but me. I'm afraid. Everything I imagine I want is out there. And I'm afraid to go see it. When I was fourteen, Cook took me to the city for the summer fair. I wanted so badly to go. It's the only time I've ever been off the estate. It terrified me."
Odd. Most beautiful women don't have much trouble coping because they've had attention all their lives.
"I know my future. And it frightens me, too."
I looked at her, thinking she meant Wayne. I'd be disturbed, too, if I were the object of such plans.
"I'll stay here, in the heart of my fortress, and turn into a crazy old woman while the house crumbles around me and Cook. I'll never find nerve enough to hire the workmen to put it right. Strangers scare me."
"It doesn't have to be that way."
"It has to. My destiny was laid down the week I was born. If my mother had survived... But she probably wouldn't have changed things. She was a strange woman herself, from what I hear. Daughter of a firelord and a stormwarden, raised in an environment almost as cold as mine, betrothed to my father by arrangement between his parents and hers. They never met before their wedding day. My father loved her, though. What happened really hurt him. He never mentions her. He won't talk about her. But he has her picture in his bedroom. Sometimes he just lies there and stares at it for hours."
What do you say when somebody tells you something like that? You can't kiss it and make it better. Not much you can do. Or say. I said, "I'm going to take a walk. Why don't you get a wrap and come along?"
"How cold is it?"
"Not too bad." Winter was just blustering and fussing, bluffing, too cowardly to jump in there and bully the world. Which was fine with me. Winter isn't my favorite season.
"All right." She pushed away from the rail and walked to the stairs, down, headed for her own suite. I tagged along, which was fine till we neared her door. Then she got nervous. She didn't want me inside.
Fine. For now her fortress would remain inviolate. I retreated halfway down the hall.
If I'd had doubts about her lack of social skills, they disappeared when she returned in less than a minute. I've never known a woman who didn't spend half an hour changing her shoes. She'd done that and had donned a very sensible, military-type winter coat that, surprisingly, was flattering because it centered attention on her face. And that face made me wince because such beauty was shut up here, wasted. Such beauty, like a great painting, should be out for all to appreciate.
We went downstairs and through that hall between the Stantnor forebears, all of whom noted our passing with grave disapproval. So did Wayne, who maybe thought I was trying to beat his time.
It wasn't as mild as I'd promised. The wind had picked up since Saucerhead's departure. It had a good bite but Jennifer didn't notice. We descended the steps. I set course along the path that Chain, Peters, Tyler and I had taken last night.
I asked, "Would you like to see the city? If you could do it without too much discomfort?" I had in mind turning Saucerhead loose on her. He has a knack for making women comfortable—though his taste runs to gals about five feet short.
"It's too late. If you're trying to save me."
I didn't say anything to that. My attention was on last night's trail.
"I saw something strange today," Jennifer said, shifting subject radically. "A man I don't know. I went up where you found me looking for him, but he wasn't there anymore."
Morley. Had to be. "Maybe my blonde's boyfriend."
She glanced at me sharply, the first time she'd looked up since we'd left the house. "Are you making fun of me?"
"No. Of a situation, maybe. I see a woman, over and over. Nobody else sees her. At least, nobody admits she's there. But now you're seeing ghosts, too."
"I saw him, Garrett."
"I didn't say you didn't."
"But you don't believe me."
"I don't believe or disbelieve. The first rule of my business is keep an open mind." The second is remember that everybody lies to you.
That seemed to satisfy her. She didn't speak again for a while.
We came to the place where Tyler died. Tyler wasn't there. Neither was the draug. I walked around trying to discover what had happened. I couldn't. I hoped Peters and the others had collected them. I'd have to find out.
The wind was biting, the grass was brown, the sky was gray, and the brooding Stantnor place loomed like a thunderhead of despair. I glanced at the orchard, all those bare arms reaching for the sky. Spring would come for the trees but not for the Stantnors.
"Do you dance?" I asked. Maybe we could force gaiety into the place at swords' points.
She managed a joke. "I don't know. I've never tried."
"Hey! We're making headway. Next thing you'll be smiling."
She didn't respond for half a minute, then bushwhacked me again. "I'm a virgin, Garrett."
Not exactly a surprise. It figured. But why tell me?
"The other day when you caught me in your stuff, I thought you were the man who would change that. But you aren't, are you?"
"I don't think so."
"Peters warned me—"
"That I have a reputation? Maybe. But the way this is, it wouldn't be right. It has to be right, Jennifer." Carefully, carefully, Garrett. Hell hath no fury, and all that. "You shouldn't want to do it just because you don't want to be a virgin. You should do it because that's what you want to do. Because you're with someone special and you want to share something special."
"I can get preached at by Cook."
"Sorry. Just trying to tell you how I think. You're a lovely woman. One of the most beautiful I've ever met. The kind men like me only dream about. I'd take you up on it in a second, if I was a guy who could just use
a woman and discard her like a gnawed bone, and not care how much she hurts."
That seemed to help.
Believe me, all that analysis and nimble-footing had me real nervous, prancing around a lot of mixed feelings.
"I think I understand. It's actually kind of nice."
"That's me. Mr. Nice Guy. Talk myself out of the winner's circle every time."
She gave me a look.
"Sorry. You're not used to my brand of wit."
I was following the backtrails of the draugs slowly now, climbing a gentle slope toward the family cemetery. Jennifer seemed too preoccupied to notice. After we'd walked another fifty yards, she stopped. "Would you do one thing for me?"
"Sure. Even what we were talking about, if it ever becomes right."
Strained little smile. "Touch me."
"Huh?" I was back into my trick bag of brilliant repartee.
"Touch me."
What the hell? I reached out, touched her shoulder. She raised her hand, grabbed mine, moved it to her cheek. I rested my fingers there gently. She had the silkiest skin I'd ever touched.
She started shaking. I mean shaking bad. Tears filled her eyes. She turned away, embarrassed or frightened. After a while she turned back and we started walking again. As we reached the low rail fence around the cemetery, she said, "That was almost as much."
"What?"
"Nobody ever touched me before. Ever. Not since I was old enough to remember. Cook did, I guess, when I had to be changed and burped and all those things you do with babies."
I stopped dead, faced that grim old mansion. No wonder it was so goddamned bleak. I faced her. "Come here."
"What?"
"Just come here." When she stepped closer, I pulled her into a hug. She went as rigid as an iron post. I held her a moment, then turned loose. "Maybe it's not too late to start. Everybody's got to touch sometime. You're not human if you don't." I understand what she wanted when she wanted to stop being a virgin. Sex had nothing to do with it. She might not realize it consciously but she thought sex was the price she had to pay for what she needed.
How many times has Morley told me I'm a sucker for cripples and strays? More than I like to remember. And he's right—if you call wanting to ease pain being a sucker.