Down These Strange Streets

by George R. R. Martin; Gardner Dozois

“The Shadow.”

  “Indeed. Exactly. The Rose Purple did not misinform you completely, then. Remarkable. Yes. The Shadow. Of negligible intrinsic worth, it nevertheless has substantial moral value among folk of a certain sort. We are here, at the behest of the Venageti Crown, to recover the royal property.” She studied me from narrowed, piggy eyes, vast and truly ugly. “That would not be a problem, would it, sir? You won’t judge me simply for being Venageti?”

  “No. We won the war.”

  “Excellent. Excellent. I endured my own sorrows during those bleak seasons, I assure you. As did we all. Well, sir. Can I count upon you, then?”

  I frowned. That didn’t make sense. I confessed, “I don’t get what you’re asking.”

  “In the spirit of the new friendship between our peoples, you will return the Shadow to me, the Hand of Begbeg.”

  All Venageti rulers have Beg in their name. The one who quit fighting called himself Begbeg, which means King of Kings or King of the World.

  “I don’t have your doohickey. I don’t know where it is. I don’t know what it is. I wouldn’t recognize it if it bit me on the ankle. And I don’t much care.”

  “Sir!”

  “I do know that somebody tried to bust into my place, somebody else made him dead, and one of those somebodies got dead himself, later on. Cutie-pie there watched everything from across the street. You probably know more than I do.”

  “But Recide brought you a box.”

  “He did? Singe, did you see a box?”

  “I did not.” She was distracted. Beyond Miss Grünstrasse’s pong, the suite was replete with unusual odors.

  “Really, Mr. Garrett. You dissemble. Eliza saw the box.”

  I looked at the blonde, as still and perfect as ornamental porcelain. Had she, indeed? Unlikely. Why say so, then? “She has magic eyes, she could see inside my place from where she was standing.”

  “You waste your time trying to provoke her.”

  Little bits was not my target.

  Someone thumped the door with grand enthusiasm.

  BUNNY LED THE DINNER DELIVERY. HE WAS IN A BLACK MOOD. HIS PRINCIPAL assistants were a boy and girl in their early teens. Penny was the girl. The boy, presumably Bottle, was more damned dangerously good-looking than she had hinted. He was blessed with way too damned much self-confidence, too.

  Two more staffers brought folding tables, one at which to dine and another whence the kids could serve.

  A sad old frail who might be Bunny’s mate bustled in. “Found it!” She unfolded a chair designed to fit someone equipped with a tail.

  The crew set four places atop clean linen. Eliza sat down but did not seem pleased.

  We ate, mostly in silence, duck and some other stuff, none of it memorable. Neither was the wine, though it was a TunFaire Gold. Singe was the only one who knew what to do with the arsenal of tools.

  Eliza ate just enough to claim participation. She never spoke. Her eyes were not shy, however.

  Finally, over the bones, Miss Grünstrasse observed, “I will miss the food here. So. Mr. Garrett. You hope to gain some advantage from holding out on the Shadow. How can I change your mind?”

  “You can’t. I don’t have the damned thing.”

  The woman laughed. Tremors surged through her flab. “Very well, then. Very well. What will it take to encourage you to find it?”

  “I don’t know what to look for. But Rock offered four thousand silver nobles for it.”

  Miss Grünstrasse began to quake all over. “The Rose Purple? Four thousand? That prince of liars! That latest in an endless procession of thieves! He will abscond on his account, wherever he is staying.”

  Odd thing to say. Silence followed. Eliza seemed especially interested.

  Miss Grünstrasse changed approach. “You have barely touched your wine, Mr. Garrett. Is there a problem? The publican assured me that it is the finest vintage TunFaire offers.”

  “He would be correct, too, but I’m a beer snob.” The modern obsession with spoiled grape juice is inexplicable. As someone once observed, beer is proof that the gods don’t always get off on tormenting us.

  “Beer, sir? I understand that TunFaire is famed for the variety and quality of its brews. Have you a favorite?”

  Why not be difficult? “Weider Wheat with a blackberry finish.”

  “Eliza, see what Squattle has available.”

  The blonde inclined her head, rose, and left the suite as though driven by clockwork. I asked, “What’s the story with her? Is she even human?”

  “Oh, yes. She is, sir. Yes, indeed. Just quite serious. My niece. My intern, as well. Completing her elementary training. A remarkable child. Brilliant beyond her years. She will become one of the greats.” Aside, “What is this, girl?”

  Penny had set a plate in front of her. “A pumpkin spice turnover, ma’am. Specialty of the Benbow.” She served me and Singe. Bottle followed with a cloth bag from which he squeezed a rum-based syrup.

  Penny asked, “Should we ready one for the young miss, ma’am?”

  Miss Grünstrasse was disgruntled. She was not accustomed to being a common “ma’am.” “Keep it in the warmer. She may not want it. She doesn’t eat many sweets.”

  I asked about Ryzna, Venageta, and the Shadow. Miss Grünstrasse evaded or tried to sell me on the sheer marvel of helping reclaim her missing gimcrack.

  “Do we have an understanding, Mr. Garrett?”

  “I haven’t heard a word about potential benefits to me and mine. Other than this fine dinner.”

  She was not pleased. That was not the response that was her due. “Very well, sir. Very well. I do have to remember that I am outside that realm where my wishes have the weight of law. Very well. Bring me the Shadow and I will pay you an eight-hundred-noble finder’s fee.” She raised a hand to forestall the remark she expected. “Genuine Full Harbor trade nobles, not the fairy gold of the Rose Purple’s will-o’-the-wisp promise.”

  I remained unconvinced. I looked unconvinced.

  “Come with me, then, sir. Come with me.” She got up, beckoned like someone Eliza’s age eager to show a friend a secret.

  I followed reluctantly, and got more reluctant when she headed into an unlighted bedroom. A light did come up momentarily, though. I glanced back. Boy, girl, and ratwoman looked puzzled but alert.

  “Come along, Mr. Garrett. I promise not to test your virtue.”

  She had a sense of humor?

  I relaxed a little.

  “Do close the door, though. In case my niece returns. I would rather she remained unaware of this.”

  “Does she speak or understand Karentine?” Lacking a knowledge of the language might explain her disinterest in communication.

  “Not that I am aware of, sir. But the child is full of surprises. Lend a hand, will you?”

  She wanted a trunk dragged out from under the unmade bed. The bedding smelled like Miss Grünstrasse, only worse. I couldn’t help wondering if she wasn’t suffering from something malignant.

  We swung the trunk onto the bed. She said, “Step away while I work the combination.”

  The latch of the trunk glimmered with a tangle of lethal spells.

  I wondered if those who mattered knew we had a foreign heavyweight among us. A Venageti heavyweight who, likely, had survived our Hill folk in the Cantard.

  “The war is over, Mr. Garrett. And my mission now is more important than any vengeance.” She opened the trunk and removed a tray filling two-thirds of the trunk’s depth. Beneath lay silver coins, rank against rank, side to side, standing on edge. Hundreds and hundreds. There was gold, too, but she hadn’t offered me gold.

  Eight hundred nobles is a lot of money. And this was the real magilla.

  “Take a coin. Any coin. Test it.”

  “I can see they’re real.” They had the Full Harbor reeding that discourages counterfeiters.

  “Even so, take one. Have it examined.” She waited while I helped myself. “Eight hundred nobles, Mr. Garrett, and the
rest for expenses and a shopping spree before we go back to the gloom of Venageta.”

  I hate it when bespoke villains show a human side.

  “Come, Mr. Garrett. Let us return to the sitting room before your assistant loses her composure . . . First, though, assist me with the chest.” She reinstalled the tray. She reset the locking spells, which smelled of death. I helped swing the trunk down. She positioned it with exact care.

  Being in front, I missed the smug look she swept across Singe, Penny, and Bottle.

  We settled at the table.

  Miss Grünstrasse began to frown and fret and smell worse, which troubled Singe. The woman started muttering. “Where is that girl? Why does she do this?”

  I’d picked up enough Venageti in the war zone to puzzle that out. Miss Grünstrasse was not pleased with her wonder apprentice.

  She said, “I apologize, Mr. Garrett. Eliza gets distracted.”

  Eliza finally did turn up, carrying a tray with eight mugs aboard, in precise formation. She set the tray beside me. I said, “You are a treasure, Eliza.”

  I might have been furniture.

  I noted moisture on her shoes. Singe’s nostrils and whiskers twitched. She smelled something that hadn’t been there before.

  I sniffed the beers, evidently one each of what Bunny had available. Two I passed to Singe.

  Penny delivered Eliza’s pumpkin turnover. Bottle did the sauce. The girl fiddled, frowned, sniffed, tasted, then damned near smiled. She devoured the whole thing, taking dainty bites. Miss Grünstrasse was impressed. “We’ll be seeing more of those.”

  Penny and Bottle began clearing away. Penny sensed a change and wanted to get a head start.

  Singe began complimenting the house’s selection of drafts, pretending to get tipsy. Foreigners wouldn’t know that some ratfolk can suck it down by the barrel.

  Once the kids were away, Singe began babbling about needing to get back to the house fast. We had a garderobe that a ratgirl could use. She didn’t want to embarrass herself.

  Miss Grünstrasse smiled indulgently. “Please consider my offer, Mr. Garrett.”

  “That’s guaranteed. I’m getting married. I could use the cash.”

  “I’ll be here till the Shadow turns up.”

  “I’ll have a confab with my partners as soon as we get back to the house.”

  That sparked a big smile. Then, “I will be here.”

  SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING IN AN ALLEY JUST YARDS FROM THE BENBOW. Senior Lieutenant Scithe was there, up late buzzing like the mother of all flies.

  I stuck my nose in. That cost us a half hour spent answering pointless questions about how Singe, Penny, and I could possibly be found in the same city as a spanking new double homicide.

  The victims were creatures like those who had invaded my house. The thing that had gotten Recide Skedrin got them, but they were melting slower. Similar lead pieces had gone in where the rot began.

  Singe pointed with her folded umbrella.

  I asked, “Lieutenant, might that busted box have something to do with this?” Said box was a ringer for the one recently added to the Dead Man’s collection, but lined with layers of metal. It had been ripped open.

  “It’s got a weird feel. We’ll let the forensics wonks have a sniff.”

  Singe got a sniff of her own.

  Scithe turned us loose. Out of earshot, Singe said, “It stopped raining while we were inside, but the pavement is still wet. The girl smelled damp when she brought the beer.”

  “And that box was dry inside.”

  “She said nothing to her aunt.”

  “She didn’t. I feel like running all the way home.”

  Singe and I were rattled, but Penny had other things on her mind. She said she would catch up at the house. She and Bottle were going to meet up for an egg cream.

  Singe wouldn’t let me get stupid.

  “Here.” I fished out the coin the fat woman made me take. “I want to see some change. And be careful.”

  Penny laughed, waved the noble in the air, and then dashed away.

  Singe promised, “She will not spend it all.”

  THE DEAD MAN SENSED OUR AGITATION WHILE WE WERE GETTING THE door unlocked. Come straight to me. Dean is fine.

  He asked no questions. He dived straight into our minds, slithered through the muck. He expressed no concern about Penny.

  I asked, “Am I off? Or is that Eliza kid a killer?”

  Given what you brought, what I got from Rock Truck, and subject to what I may get from Penny, yes. She is not what she seems. Give me a minute to digest.

  He took five.

  Why did the woman send the child out? Being distracted enough to have done so in Karentine?

  I had overlooked that.

  The answer might be implied from her lack of scent, her absence of presence, and the deep nausea I felt when she came to the door.

  “Grünstrasse wanted her out because she interferes with mind stuff.”

  Excellent.

  “And she wanted a peek inside my head.”

  Which she got. Clearly, though, her talent holds no candle to mine. She could not discern details or specific thoughts but did see that you truly do not have the Shadow. She saw that Penny was with you. She may have been alerted to my existence.

  That might not be a bad thing. She would want to stay away.

  Did she develop suspicions of the girl? Did she note the evidence you did when the child returned? If Eliza fails to volunteer a satisfactory explanation, the aunt should become extremely nervous. If she learns of the incident outside, she might suspect a sudden alliance between Eliza and Rock Truck.

  I do wish I could have her in for a consultation.

  I wasn’t sure how he might connect Rock and Eliza but wouldn’t bet against it. He conjures correct answers from gossamer and fairy dust, drawing on centuries of observing how human bad behavior takes shape.

  Proof of that hypothesis will be Mr. Rock returning here.

  “You think he’ll panic and come to us because he doesn’t know anyone else.”

  Yes.

  “He’s lethally stupid.”

  That was obvious from the beginning.

  “What was in the box in that alley?”

  Singe opined, “The same thing that was in our box here.”

  Air. Yes. Almost certainly. Somewhere a ship’s master lies dead, murdered for nothing. Rock Truck and Miss Grünstrasse are chasing a phantom. The Shadow never came to TunFaire.

  “Is Ingra Mah dead?”

  Whether she tricked the child into killing someone in her place or she was killed herself after being robbed by a third party does not matter here. I do, however, fear that dreadful times will soon commence somewhere between Ryzna and Liefmold. Someone will try to use the Shadow and it will begin using him. Or her.

  YOU MAY TURN IN, GARRETT. WE ARE DONE FOR THE DAY.

  “Not till Penny gets home, we aren’t.”

  Diffuse amusement.

  The Dead Man began to commune with Singe. I visited Dean. That old boy was sleeping normally. He had a magnificent shiner but looked likely to be back in the saddle tomorrow.

  PENNY TURNED UP SOONER THAN I EXPECTED. SHE WAS LIVID. “I WANT YOU to stomp that Bottle into meat jam!” she snarled. “That . . . ! That . . . !” Her language failed the gentility test.

  “What happened?”

  “We got to the place he wanted to go, and suddenly he didn’t have no money! Suddenly he did have four hungry friends, one of them a bimbo named Tami.”

  “Life’s a bitch.”

  “You think it’s funny.”

  I did. But she wouldn’t get the joke. Hell, I wouldn’t hear the real punch line for eight more hours.

  “Go see the Dead Man.”

  “He already sucked everything out of my head. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep.”

  ROCK TRUCK TURNED UP SO EARLY THAT NOBODY BUT SINGE AND THE DEAD Man were awake. The Rose Purple was on the run. He was wet, filthy, terrified, and
exhausted. Singe let him in, planted him in a chair, and told him, “Don’t move.” She went back to the front door, went outside, and waved.

  Dollar Dan wasn’t there but another ratman did ooze out of a shadow. She gave him instructions. Then she came upstairs to roust me, like the whole thing couldn’t wait till a civilized hour.

  While she was charging back and forth, up and down, Rock from Ryzna learned that her word was law. Hard as he tried, he could not get out of that chair.

  Singe had heavy black tea steeping when I got to the kitchen, still crosseyed sleepy. “Not ready, Garrett. My office. See the man. I’ll bring it.”

  I was still trundling those hallway miles when the Dead Man sent, Answer the door. Disconcerted.

  The knock happened as I freed the first bolt. I opened. Scithe boggled. I said, “You got here fast.”

  “Huh?”

  He did not get our message.

  “Serendipity?”

  Scithe stepped back. Big word. Might be dangerous.

  “Singe sent a runner. We caught a bad guy.”

  That just baffled him more. I stepped aside. Scithe and his henchman entered. Singe came out of the kitchen with a tray, half a dozen cups and tea still steeping. Scithe said, “We came about . . .” His eyes glazed.

  I got a message myself, as did Singe, who nearly fumbled her tray.

  Scithe closed in on Rock and rested a hand on his right shoulder. “This is the devil? Four counts of murder? He don’t look the type.” He bent down to whisper, “You’re in the shit deep, sweetheart.”

  Rock squirmed. His big brown eyes ached with appeal.

  I said, “Bad news, Rock. It was all for naught. The Shadow never came to TunFaire.”

  The Rose Purple made noises like a man trying to shout with a gag in his mouth. I think he was upset.

  Scithe asked, “He’s not going anywhere, is he?”

  “Only if the other villains rescue him.”

  Chuckles all around. The other villains were about to have troubles of their own.

  Scithe said, “I got to get moving on this. Ah!”

  Penny had come down. She looked grimmer than I usually feel at such an absurd hour. She grabbed a cup. Singe poured. Penny added lots of sugar. “’S goin’ on? Cha’ wan’ me for?”