by Glen Cook
I grabbed Tama’s hand. “Time we made ourselves scarce, darling. Let this family clean its own house. Next time you’re in town, Ed, if you’ve got nothing better to do, come by the house. We’ll round up Tinnie and Nicks and go out to this romantic little ethnic place I know.” Maybe I could find a place that served stuffed, roast parrot.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Tama and I hit the hallway. I pushed hard getting out of the house. Heading across that big pasture out front, I whispered, “Keep moving, woman. Get as big a head start as you can. Nobody else promised you anything.” Actually, Nagit had but we’d all known that he was lying.
“You going to keep your promise?”
“I always try to, no matter what. Even if I’d rather not. Because my word is really the only thing I’ve got to sell.” We were moving fast, headed toward the gate. All I’d ever really offered her was a running start. If our paths crossed again, I’d pick up my grudge on behalf of the Weiders instantly. I wouldn’t have any overriding obligation to society, as the Dead Man had argued in our discussions of Marengo.
“I’m not much on remorse, Garrett. But I do regret that what happened happened. It wasn’t planned. For what that’s worth.”
“It’s not worth much. But I do understand. I’m going to have a regret or six when I look back on all this myself.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck in the next life.”
“Maybe. See you there.”
Tama turned south after we left the estate, broke into a longlegged, ground-eating lope. I turned north. Never the twain to meet. But meet something I did, in just a quarter mile. It looked a whole lot like Deal Relway in drag. He must have been planning a party because he had a whole lot of friends with him. I observed, “I take it you’ve given up the day job.” How had he gotten out here with all these secret police thugs? I hoped he didn’t have some dumb idea about trying to raid The Pipes. Those people up there were confused, but they wouldn’t be shy about burying a few nosy Guardsmen in the back pasture.
Then my paranoia returned. There were lots of secret policemen and only one Garrett. And I was handicapped by the weight of the world’s premier talking chicken. But Relway just wanted to chat.
“Soon as you exposed North English as a changer I knew there wasn’t much future in scrubbing his floors. Nobody else in The Call can hold that mob together. I got out and waited out here.”
“I never did see what his followers saw.”
“That’s because you’re a cynic and a pessimist functionally incapable of believing in anything bigger than yourself.”
The Goddamn Parrot began to snicker like he’d just heard a potent off-color joke.
“Bird, you and me and a roasting pan got a three-way date when we get home.”
Relway mused, “Now that it’s happened I’m not so sure I’m happy with the outcome. Spared their racial theories The Call would’ve been good for TunFaire.”
He would appreciate their interest in law and order and proper behavior. “Here’s a challenge you still need to meet. Glory Mooncalled. He’s weak now but he’s still out there somewhere. If you don’t get him now he’ll try to put something back together someday. He can’t help himself.”
“It’s still great day for TunFaire, Garrett. One of pure triumph.”
I don’t know if he meant that or was being sarcastic. You never quite know anything with Relway. And he wants it that way.
“I liked the way you put it, Garrett. Faded steel heat.” I’d mentioned that to him the night he’d discovered the tanks in the old Lamp brewery.
“But the war goes on.”
“The war never ends. Tell you what. Send me a note when you do decide to roast that pigeon. I’ve got dibs on a drumstick.”
“Ha! You hear that, bird? Your time’s almost up.”
“Help! Please don’t hurt me anymore...”
Chuckling, Relway said, “Don’t forget to pick up your rat friend on your way home.”
“Huh?”
“The guys say she’s hanging around in those trees over there. Lurking and skulking. General rodent stuff. Probably worrying about you. Would’ve been amazing to see her try to rescue you from all those thunder lizards and rat-haters.”
The Goddamn Parrot had a good laugh at that. I couldn’t think of a thing to say, then or when I did see Singe.
Life’s a bitch. But it does go on.