by Glen Cook
“I’ll get my shoulder ornament and we’ll be set.”
“Why? That bird is disgusting.”
Finally, somebody who agreed with me.
The Dead Man relaxed his control of the Goddamn Parrot. The little monster barked, “I’m in love! Look at this sweet fluff!”
“I already looked, you deadweight jungle buzzard. And you’re right. She looks damned good. But she’s a lady. Mind your stinking manners.”
“That was really good, Garrett,” Belinda told me. “Your lips never moved once.”
Argh! But the bird was right. I was right. She did look good, if a little too vampiric for current fashion. She’d had people in and out all afternoon, some to elevate her to this supernal state. She didn’t want to go unnoticed tonight. Hell, she was going to raise the dead. I thought about wrapping her in a blanket so we wouldn’t have crowds chasing us through the streets.
This evening would be easy on my eyeballs. Alyx was sure to give Belinda a run. So would Nicks. And Tinnie would be absolutely killer if she bothered to try. Belinda would be a blood-dark rose in a garden of brilliant whites and yellows and carmines.
“If I was doing the talking this little shit would say things to score points for me, not to get everybody pissed off.”
Belinda laughed. Then she demanded, “What?”
“You startled me. You don’t laugh very often. You should.”
“I can’t. Though I do wish I was different.”
A shuddering déjà vu overcame me. I recalled her father once suggesting that he didn’t really want to be a bad guy but he was in a bind where his choices were to be the nastiest bad boy he could or end up grease under some climber’s heel. The underworld is strictly survival of the fittest.
The Contagues survive.
I opened the door. Belinda pushed past, murmured something to Two Toes.
Dean bustled out of the kitchen. “Did you remember your key, Mr. Garrett?”
“Yeah. And this door better not be chained when I get back. Got that?”
He had talked me into installing an expensive key lock, supposedly so I wouldn’t need help getting in late. But maybe he just wanted to aggravate me.
It used to be cats. He was always adopting strays, apparently because I didn’t want them around. I attract enough stray people.
“Absolutely guaranteed, Mr. Garrett.”
I looked at him askance. I didn’t like his tone. “Thank you, Dean.” I shut the door. “Living with him is like being married without any of the perquisites.” I waved to Mrs. Cardonlos, who was outside watching again. I wondered if she knew what she was looking for. I wondered what had become of Mr. Cardonlos. I have a suspicion he’s alive and well and happy somewhere far from here.
She got an eyeful of Belinda. That one and its sister both liked to popped. I thought her chin would hit her knee.
Now she had something juicy to chew up and pass around. What do they see in that man?
Two Toes had left the Contague coach around the corner on Wizard’s Reach. As we strolled behind him I noted that he had earned his nickname the hard way. He had a weird, crooked limp.
I gave him a significant glance, then raised my eyebrow to Belinda. She’d relaxed. She understood. “Old family obligation.” She made a noise I would have called a giggle had it come from another young lady. “Guess what? He has a twin brother. No-Nose Harker. The Harker boys didn’t have much luck in the army.”
I gave the automatic response of every guy who ever made it back from a war when most soldiers didn’t. “Sure they did. They got out alive.”
If you check the men in the street, particularly in the rightsist freecorps, almost every one bears some physical memento. And beyond the outside scars there are still suppurating wounds of mind and soul. And those affect our rulers as well as the least man among us.
You won’t find a duke or stormwarden crouching in a filthy alleyway trying to exorcise his memories with wine or weed but up on the Hill, or out in the manors, the great families have locked doors behind which they conceal their own casualties. Like Tom Weider.
You don’t hear about that in histories or sagas. They whoop up the glory and forget the horror and pain. The Dead Man assures me that all histories, whether official or oral, bear only coincidental resemblance to actual events — which few principals considered to be history in the making at the time.
27
Belinda said, “You used to be a lighthearted guy, Garrett. A little cynical, yeah, but it’s hard not to be cynical nowadays. What happened to the wisecracks?”
“Darling, a wise man once told me each of us is allowed only so many wisecracks. Then life stops. That’s how he explained there being so many sour old farts. I’ve only got one smart-ass crack left. I’m saving it. Which means that for the next four or five hundred years I’m going to be a sour old fart, too.”
Her sense of humor was underdeveloped. She didn’t get it. Or just didn’t appreciate it. “You making fun of me?”
“No. Never. Just ringing changes on something an old-timer did tell me when I was a kid. This guy was so ancient he could remember when Karenta wasn’t at war with Venageta.”
“A human?”
“Yeah. I said he was old.”
Dwarves and elves and some other species hang around as long as the Loghyr, given sufficient good luck. In fact, elves claim to be immortal. But even the Dead Man isn’t sure about that. He hasn’t been around long enough to see one never get killed.
Stories about elven immortality come from the same myth cycle that tells us that if you con a dwarf into coming out of his mine in the daytime or riddle a troll into staying up past sunrise they’ll turn to stone. Word to the wise. Don’t bet your life. Don’t bet your favorite cockroach. You’ll find out what that red stuff is between trolls’ toes.
Sure, you don’t see many trolls on the daytime streets of TunFaire but that’s because trolls don’t like cities. Things move too fast. But if you insist on looking for trolls, be sure you don’t get trampled by all the dwarves trying to separate humans from their money, day or night.
I continued, “This old man was a real storyteller. Tall tales. I wish somebody had written them down. He claimed he was so old because there was one last joke that Death came and told you and he hadn’t heard it yet.”
“My father used to say that.”
“Chodo?”
“Yeah. Really. Maybe he knew the same old man.” She became the cold, hard Belinda I’d come to regret.
“Someday you have to tell me what it was like being Chodo’s kid.”
“What?”
“Most of the time I like you. But whenever you even remotely connect with your father you go all cold and spooky.” The coach stopped. I shut my yap, peeked between curtains. “We’re here. Without any trouble.”
Two Toes dismounted and came to the coach door. “One minute,” Belinda told him. “Garrett, sometimes I’m halfway in love with you. Most of the time I’m not. You treat me decent. I like that. But we can’t ever go anywhere. I can’t always control the part of me that you don’t like. If you shoot your mouth off when I’m out of control...”
I hadn’t thought she could see it herself. As always, Belinda insisted on being a surprise.
Two Toes helped her down. He worshipped the ground she stalked on. And she didn’t notice.
One of those sad songs.
Two Toes gave me a look that said I’d better treat her right.
Manvil Gilbey was out with the hirelings making sure no great unwashed types penetrated the perimeter. “Glad you’re here, Garrett. I’m getting nervous. They started arriving before we were halfway ready.” He checked Belinda. He was impressed. “I am amazed, young woman. What could such a lovely creature possibly see in this battered rogue?”
“Gilbey?” I asked. “Is that really you?”
He winked as he took my invitation. I wondered if they were keeping count. He said, “We assumed you’d pair off with Miss Tate.”
“Life is chock-full of surprises.”
“I believe Miss Tate planned along those lines.”
I didn’t doubt it for a second. “I’m ready for her.” Right. “Can we gossip later? I want to check all the arrangements for myself.”
“Of course. I just wanted you to realize that the situation could become complex.”
He was rubbing me the wrong way and I didn’t know why. “Look, this isn’t important now.” Maybe it was having to face Tinnie. “My partner felt I should bring the lady along. Because of the other guests likely to appear.” I didn’t dare proclaim my date as being queen of the underworld.
Gilbey was disinclined to quibble. Neither did he satisfy me that he’d made any outstanding effort to protect the Weiders.
I had cause to be touchy. I was descending into a cone of trouble where the secret police, the rightsists, the Outfit, Glory Mooncalled, and maybe even the business community might want to roll rocks down on me.
“Have a wonderful evening, Garrett. Miss, I’m sure the Weider family will be honored that you choose to share their joy.”
Manvil could lay it on with a trowel. And Belinda could make a determined holy celibate regret his vows. Gilbey certainly looked like he had suffered a stunning recollection of what women were all about. He had trouble looking at anyone but Belinda for the next several minutes.
28
Inside the doorway stood Gerris Genord. Genord had a voice like a thunderstorm. He refused to let me sneak in unnoticed. He announced, as though the end of the world was imminent and it was critical that everyone knew, “MR. GARRETT AND MISS CONTAGUE.” Genord was the Weiders’ majordomo. I did not like him. He sneered at me. I did not belong in this society. I suppose my chances of getting inside unnoticed with Belinda along were as likely as those of the Crown cutting taxes because the war was over.
We were early, though, so only a small horde heard Genord’s bellows.
The Goddamn Parrot made his entrance separately, sneakily. Wearing a parrot to a betrothal ball might be considered a lapse of etiquette.
We got down the steps all right but didn’t make it twenty feet farther before I got pinned in the cold-eyed crossfire of Tinnie Tate and Alyx Weider. Tinnie was closer. I shifted course. Best get the worst over now.
I ignored Tinnie’s expression. “I’ve got a letter for you from an old gentleman you know better than I do.”
The Goddamn Parrot plopped onto my shoulder. So much for good form. He said, “Read it, Pretty Legs. Bust his head later.”
Tinnie gaped. I wondered if I shouldn’t have read the letter before I let her have it.
Dean transcribed it for the Dead Man — after I promised not to peek. Belinda glowered because I gave it to Tinnie. Tinnie — and Alyx and everyone else with eyes as good as a mole’s — eyeballed Belinda in her vampiric heat and wondered. Frumpy Garrett faded from their awareness, though wearing one of Tad’s outfits I was as spiffy as I’ve ever gotten.
Well, I didn’t want to be noticed, did I? Not in my line.
Tinnie read. Tinnie gave me the fish-eye. Tinnie cold-eyed Belinda. Tinnie glared at me some more. The Goddamn Parrot cleared his throat. I got his head in a one-hand squeeze before he made things worse. He flapped and squawked but didn’t get any rocks dropped on my bean.
Tinnie decided she needed some fresh air. Her stride was efficient. Her feet pounded the floor, eating up ground. Her red hair tossed behind her.
Alyx caught her. They argued instantly.
Belinda stayed close as I moved toward the far end of the hall. The place wasn’t crowded yet but was more so than I’d expected. Where I knew names I named them so Belinda would know. Her name began to circulate, too, after somebody realized which Contague she had to be.
“Yonder are the happy couple,” I said. “We ought to pay our respects.”
“They don’t look happy.”
I didn’t think they did, either. Ty looked like he had a bad case of constipation. Nicks looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
Ty perked up when he saw Belinda. And how could you blame him? He asked, “And who is your lovely companion, Garrett?” He never was nicer.
His own lovely companion bestowed a truly ugly look upon him. She didn’t really want him. He didn’t want her. But, boy, he better not even think about being interested in anybody else. And Garrett was a natural-born pig dog for daring to be seen with somebody as exciting as this wannabe vampire woman.
“Belinda Contague. Belinda, this is Ty Weider. Crown prince of the Weider brewing empire.”
Ty failed to recognize Belinda as the crown princess of organized crime. But why should he? Her name was not a household word. Even her father was not universally known. “Charmed, Miss Contague. How long have you known this rogue?”
Did they take a vote on what to call me? Maybe I could be a rake next time around.
“Almost forever, Ty. He used to do favors for my father.”
I winked at Nicks. She had made the connection. Maybe she and Belinda had met in another context, though Belinda showed no sign of recognizing Nicks.
Nicks said, “I’ll bet your father doesn’t know you’re out with this rake Garrett.”
I didn’t want to wait long, did I? I ought to get into the sybil racket. How cruel to label a man a garden tool.
I was sure the women had met before.
Belinda smiled wickedly. “Daddy would have a heart attack if he saw us holding hands.” She grabbed my right mitt. “I’m still his little girl.”
Daddy Contague might render me down for candle tallow if he knew the whole history of our friendship.
Whatever the game, Nicks was ready to play. Belinda pulled me away. She had to control her surroundings completely. I watched Nicks whisper to Ty, mischief in her eye.
She winked again.
These women might put me in more danger than The Call, the Outfit, and Relway put together, just for the long-legged, red-haired, howling wolf sexy fun of it.
The color left Ty’s face.
Chodo really did have a bad reputation.
Genord bellowed, “Mr. Marengo North English and Miss Tama Montezuma.”
“Whoa!” I barked. “This might be interesting.”
“Why?”
“North English claims Montezuma is his niece. I’ve never seen her but she’s supposed to be...” Wrong angle. Belinda’s face darkened. When would I learn? “Rumor would lead one to suspect that North English regularly violates the rules about consanguinity. Not to mention he maybe cheats on his wife.”
“Everybody loves a scandal.”
“Don’t they? Let’s go over there. I’ve never seen North English up close.”
“Why bother? He sounds like your typical sleazy male to me.” But she watched the entrance intently. North English would be one connection she wanted to make, sleazy male or otherwise.
“You’re too young and too beautiful to be so cynical.”
“It’s all your fault. You ruined me. You beast.”
The newcomers paused to be seen before they descended to the great hall floor.
“Put your eyes back in, Garrett.” Tinnie had materialized behind me. “And shut your mouth before swallows nest in it.”
I did as I was told. I’m a good soldier, me. But, boy oh boy, that Tama Montezuma was something!
She was as tall as me, narrow of hip. She moved like a panther on the stalk, radiating an overpowering sexual urgency. Her face seemed animated by a secret knowledge, an abiding amusement at the follies of the world — which is, after all, only a dream. Her muscles were as hard as stone. Her walnut-stain skin was without flaw, showing no hint of a wrinkle, and a shocking amount of square footage was available for inspection. It glowed with a satin sheen of health so good it ought to be illegal. Her eyes sparkled with humor and intelligence. Her teeth were almost too perfect and white to be real. She reeked animal magnetism. Somebody — probably her Uncle Marengo — had invested a fortune in her scant but flattering elven f
ashions.
“Down, Rover,” Alyx whispered over my other shoulder. I hadn’t heard her sneak up, either. Maybe I was a tad distracted.
I grumped, “You guys are wearing that out, you know.” Tinnie, especially, had a tendency to push the needling past the playful stage. “I thought you were just going to work it on each other.”
“Tsk-tsk. His skin is thinner than I thought, Tinnie.”
Lightly, Belinda observed, “I may be leaping to conclusions here, Garrett, but that woman doesn’t look like she could be that man’s niece — and not just because he’s so pale.” North English did look pallid next to Tama Montezuma. “In fact, she doesn’t look much like anybody’s niece. She looks a lot more like something a dirty old man dreamed up.”
She did indeed. Or even some pure-hearted young man. Tama Montezuma had something that would make people suspicious of her even if she was out with her twin brother and wearing full nun’s gear. But her being Marengo’s niece was not impossible, technically. Dark-skinned adventurers visit TunFaire all the time. A few have stomachs strong enough to stay around.
North English didn’t look at Montezuma like she was any relative, though. Guys who hit a number big and win buckets of cash get the look Marengo had. It says, “I do deserve this but I can’t believe it’s real.”
Belinda asked, “Can you introduce me to these people, Garrett?”
“Me? You know I don’t run in their circles. Alyx?” Her family did share those circles.
“Daddy invited him, Garrett. He’ll remember me only as a little kid. It’s been a long time since he was here last. He and Dad argued. Politics.”
Tinnie shook her lovely head. “I can’t help. I never met the man.”
Belinda demanded, “How would you suggest I meet him, then?”
“He’s got a hungry eye. Walk up and tell him who you are and say you need to talk. He’ll find time.”
Tinnie grumbled something inaudible. I bet it had to do with it not being right, women taking advantage of their looks. That from a lady who grabs every possible advantage out of being a gorgeous redhead — at least when guys named Garrett are around.