by Glen Cook
“What’s in it?”
“For me, ten percent of a hundred thousand marks, plus expenses. You’re expenses.”
He whistled soundlessly, his pucker bringing his dark hatchet features to even more of a point. “What do we have to do? Take out one of the Venageti warlords?”
“You’re closer than you think. I have to go into the Cantard and find a woman who just inherited on the up side of a hundred thou. I have to talk her into either coming here to claim it or waiving her claim in favor of whoever is next in line.”
“That doesn’t sound so tough. Except for the part about the Cantard.”
“There are some people around who might feel that the money was not the deceased’s to bequeath. There are some in the deceased’s family who feel a strong reluctance to let so large a fortune go to a stranger. There is the possibility of similar difficulties on the legatee’s end. It’s possible her relationship with the legatee was, shall we say, imprudent.”
“I love it when you talk dirty, Garrett. And I love what money does to you humans. It’s the only thing that saves you from being totally tedious.”
I did not have anything to say to that. People do get silly about money.
“I take it your principal has his own ax to grind in this, or he’d be with the keep-it-in-the-family faction.”
“Could be.”
“Is he as nebulous as you are?”
“Could be. You interested?”
“Could be.”
I winced.
He grinned. “Suppose I just follow you around for a while? You’re a chatty sort of fellow. I’ll let you know when you’ve said enough to let me make up my mind.”
“Oh, happy day! The pleasure of his company without having to pay for it. All right.”
“Who said anything about not paying for it?”
“I did. No play, no pay.”
“You got an attitude problem, Garrett. All right. What are you going to do now?”
“Go wrap myself around a couple of pounds of steak.”
He turned up his nose. “All that red meat is why you people have such a peculiar odor. Where should I meet you?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Matter of some unfinished business,” he said evenly.
I glanced at the door to the other room. “I see. I’ll be back.”
9
Morley had pecked around the edges till I’d about lost the restored good humor brought on by beer and a fully belly. “You have a basic character flaw, Garrett. I think it’s a self-image problem. Ninety-nine people out of a hundred will say any damned fool thing that pops into their heads and not worry about how other folks will see it. With you every damned word is a contract with the gods.”
I scowled up the street. There were lights inside my place.
“You can talk without feeling you’ve committed something, Garrett. Hell, you should do like me. Believe every word you say like it was godsmouth when you say it, then forget it in the morning. The appearance of sincerity counts for more than actual truthfulness. People only need to believe for a few minutes at a time. They know the name of the game. You take that lady I was with tonight. Am I in love with her? Is she in love with me? Not bloody likely. She wouldn’t be seen in public with me. But I still had to say all the words.”
I don’t know how he got onto that. He rambles. I ignored it, mostly. “You on the payroll or not?”
He looked at my place. “Company?”
“Looks like.”
“Could it be friendly?”
“My friends have better manners.”
“I thought you’d admit you don’t have any friends. Are you going in?”
“Yes. You behind me or not?”
“Temporarily, anyway. My cash position isn’t what it should be. I’ve suffered several financial setbacks lately.”
“D’Guni races again.”
“You want to get rich quick, Garrett? Come down to the pond and see how I lay my bets. Then bet the other way. No matter what bug I pick, it zips out to the middle, then skitters in circles while the plodders head straight for the other bank. Either that or it gets eaten.”
“The race is not always to the swift.” Only elves would bet on the near-random results of water-spider races. “Ready?”
“Go ahead.”
The door was unlocked. How thoughtful. There were four of them. Two sat on my bed. The other two occupied my only two chairs. I recognized three as cavalry veterans from Denny’s crowd. The one called Vasco might be the V of Denny’s notes. They were trying to look tough.
I guess theywere tough, inside their heads. They had survived the Cantard. But they did not have the tough look that comes from growing up on the streets.
“Come on in, guys,” I said. “Make yourselves at home. Fix yourselves a drink. My place is your place.”
Vasco said, “See if he’s armed, Quinn.”
“He’s armed,” Morley said behind me. “Take my word for it.”
One of my guests chuckled. “Look, Vee. A darko breed in man’s clothing.”
“Amateurs,” Morley said.
“Amateurs,” I agreed. “But the pros all start out as amateurs.”
“Some have to learn their business the hard way.”
What he meant was, anybody on the shady side of the law who knew what they were doing should know who he was.
Vasco made a gesture that restrained the character with the intemperate mouth. He said, “I figure you have some idea why we’re here, Garrett. But there’re a couple points I want to make sure you understand.”
“Amateurs,” I said again. “Pros know when to take their losses.”
“That money didn’t belong to Denny, Garrett. Not more than a third of it, anyway.”
“Pros don’t put all their eggs in one basket. And they don’t put the basket where they can’t get at it. If I was you boys I’d find a new line of business. Without Denny’s contacts your old one is going to turn into a crapshoot.”
Vasco winced. I knew too much. “We’ve got that angle covered, Garrett. All we need to do is get hold of Denny’s papers and study up on his style. There weren’t any secret codes or anything. The other end doesn’t have to know that he’s gone.”
Might be workable at that. Maybe they were not so dumb after all.
Those records and notes and letters might be a silver mine.
“What did you do with them, Garrett?”
“So we get to the crux, eh?”
“Yes. I’ll lay it out. We can take the loss on the silver if we get the papers and you stay away from the Cantard end. We ain’t going to like it, but we can take it. My recommendation to you is, pocket your retainer and walk. Next best thing, if you think you have to make a show, is leave town for a while, then come back and say you couldn’t find her. Or fake up a waiver and forge her chop.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “A practical solution to all our problems.”
They looked relieved.
“Trouble is, when I got out of the Marines I decided I wasn’t going to let anybody else run my life ever again. You guys were in the army. You know how it is.”
It stunned them momentarily. Then Vasco said, “You look like you’ve had a bad day already, Garrett. I wouldn’t want to give a man bruises on his bruises. Maybe you could reassess your position.”
“You had your say. I made my position clear. You’d better be leaving. I’m not usually this tolerant of uninvited guests.”
Vasco sighed. My old drill sergeant used to sigh that way when a recruit was particularly stubborn about learning. “Quinn, watch the breed.”
I set myself. I’d picked my first move already.
“Stand aside, Garrett.” That same sound of exasperation filled Morley’s voice. “It’s time for a little of that old elfin magic.”
“Vee?”
“Take him, Quinn.”
When Morley goes into action he seems to grow about six extra limbs. He uses them all so fast you hardly see
them move. And when he isn’t kicking or punching he’s biting, head-butting, hip-jugging, or knee-dropping.
He opened by leaping up and giving Quinn the heels of both feet,bap! bap! right between the eyes. He flew to another victim without touching down. Quinn folded his cards and went to dreamland.
Vasco came after me.
I learned that you do not duke it out with a guy almost as good as you are when your whole body is stiff and sore from the last whipping you took.
He got me into a clinch that turned into a giant bear hug on the floor. He kept trying to bang his forehead off my temple. I got my teeth into his ear and chomped. That discouraged him. He threw himself away from me. From flat on my back I flicked out a heel and clipped him at the base of the skull. He went wobbly.
I jumped up, seized the moment by the scruff of the neck and seat of the pants, and ran him out the door to the accompaniment of appropriate old-time remarks about seedy little army types who failed to acknowledge the natural superiority of their overlords, the Marines.
A great glassy crash sent me hurtling back inside to help Morley.
He had polished off his share. He was eyeballing Quinn. “Grab the other end and help me throw him out.”
“You broke my window.”
“I’m charging you double rate for this one, Garrett. You provoked them.”
“I’m not paying you squat. You threw somebody out my window.”
“You never heard a word I said about truth and sincerity. You had a perfect chance to close it all down when Vee suggested you take the retainer and run. But no! Bad Garrett has got Morley Dotes behind him. He can run his mouth like a fool and provoke them all to hell.”
“I would have said the same thing if you weren’t here.”
He cocked his head and looked at me like a bird looking at a new kind of bug. “Death wish. Suicidal tendencies. Know what causes that, Garrett? Diet. That’s right. Your meat-heavy human diet. You need more roughage. You don’t get enough roughage, your bowels tighten up. When your bowels tighten up you get these dangerous, self-destructive mood swings . . . ”
“Somebody is going to get his bowels loosened up. You had to go and throw somebody through my window, didn’t you?”
“Will you quit with the damned window?”
“You know how much that window cost? You got any idea?”
“Not a candle to what this job is going to cost you if you don’t stop complaining. All right! Next time I’ll ask them pretty please to go out the door like nice little boys. Come on. Let’s run it off.”
“Run? Run where? Why?”
“To work off this nervous energy. To get rid of the combat juices flowing inside us. Five miles ought to do it.”
“I’ll tell you how far I’m running. I’m running all the way over there to my bed. Then I’m not moving except to breathe.”
“You’re kidding. The shape you’re in? If you don’t stretch those muscles, then cool them out right, you’re going to wake up so stiff you won’t be able to move.”
“Tell you what. You run my five miles for me. I’ll consider forgiving you for the window.” I crashed onto the bed. “I could use about a gallon of ice-cold beer.”
Morley didn’t answer me. He was gone.
.
10
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day. A time when the early birds of the world are aflame with their mission of bringing the joys of dawn-watching to the nations. And to me in particular.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Two mornings running. I wondered if I had offered unwitting insult to the Seven Grand Devils of Modrel.
I went through all the usual cursing and threatening. None of it helped.
Morley would crow when he saw me. I was as stiff as he wanted. It took me three minutes to put my feet over the side and sit up.
The first thing I saw was a mottled green face half a yard wide staring through the broken window. I said something intelligent like, “Gleep!”
The face grinned.
It was a groll, a hybrid of human, troll, and the Beast That Talks that is never named in polite company. I grinned back. Grolls are slow of wit and often quick of temper.
Its giant toad mouth opened and spilled some of that hair-raising bass which is their excuse for speech. I did not catch what it said. It was not meant for me, anyway.
The banging on the door stopped.
“Hello yourself,” I croaked, and dragged myself up onto my feet. I figured I’d better open up before his patience went and he let himself in through the wall.
There was another one outside the door. It looked exactly like the other one—Big, wide, and ugly. I guessed it would stand twenty feet high in its socks—if it ever wore socks. It didn’t wear much else, except a loincloth, a utility belt, and an empty pack harness.
The loincloth did not do much to preserve modesty.
So from here on I have to call them both He with a capital H. Mules would go gibbous with envy.
Both grolls noted my amazement and grinned. That’s the sense of humor such creatures have.
“I’d invite you in if you’d fit,” I said. One is polite to grolls at all times, irrespective of one’s prejudices. Otherwise one finds oneself reassessing one’s attitude while being squished between warty green toes.
A short one stepped around the big one. “I expect I’ll fit,” he said. “And I could use a drink, actually.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Dojango is the name, actually. These are my brothers, Marsha and Doris.”
“Brothers?”
“We’re triplets, actually.” He responded to my unspoken question, “But with different mothers, actually.”
Triplets with different mothers. Right. I didn’t ask. Making sense out of the things human folks tell me is brain strain enough.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Morley Dotes sent us, actually.”
“What the hell for? Actually?” One of the big grolls growled at me. I used my fingers to sculpt a friendly smile.
“To help in the Cantard.”
The villain himself, Morley Dotes, had sneaked on stage. “So you decided you want the job, eh?”
“At the moment there are certain advantages, where my creditors are concerned, to my being both employed and being out of town,” Morley replied.
“And you thought you’d gather all your friends under the umbrella of that advantage? Like maybe my principal wouldn’t think of putting a bottom in my expense pot?”
“If you would use half that vaunted detective brain of yours, you would bless my vision.”
“It’s too early in the morning for me to remember my name. Enlighten me, O Illustrious One.”
“Consider mules.”
“Mules? What the hell do mules have to do with it?”
“We’re going into the Cantard. No one will risk loaning or renting us mounts or pack animals. We’ll have to buy. On the other hand, wages for Doris and Marsha will run about what it would cost for a brace of good mules. And they can carry twice the load twice as long. And they’re a hell of a lot more use in a fight.”
That made sense. Good sense. But . . . “What about friend Dojango?”
Morley sighed. “Yes. Dojango Roze. Well, Garrett, they won’t break up the set.”
I do believe I scowled. “You sticking me with deadwood?”
“Dojango can lift a blade. He can sniff out water and find firewood. He can understand Doris and Marsha. If you keep an eye on him, he can cook an edible meal without burning anything too badly.”
“I’m trying not to slobber in anticipation.” I scanned the triplets who had different mothers. They grinned groll good fellowship. They figured Morley had sold me.
Dotes said, “Keep Dojango away from the juice and he’ll do all right.”
Everyone knows breeds cannot handle their booze. Dojango’s grin became apologetic.<
br />
“How much is this road show going to burn me?”
Morley tossed out an outrageous figure. I slammed the door and went back to bed. He had one of the big triplets lift him so he could yell numbers through the broken window. I faked a mean snore till some interesting integers began rattling around behind me. In fact, Morley was so pliable I began wondering how bad his creditor situation was. I did not need more complications than I already had.
“It’s your diet that makes you so stubborn, you know that, don’t you, Garrett? All that red meat filled with the juices stirred by the terror of the murdered beast, and you never exercising so you sweat them out of your own body.”
“I figured it was something like that, Morley. That, too much beer, and not enough green, leafy veggies.”
“Cattails, Garrett. The white hearts down near the roots of the young plant, diced into a tossed salad. Not only tasty, but informed with an almost mystical capacity for lightening the burden of guilt lying upon the carnivore’s soul.”
“Horsepucky.” When I was in the Marines we raided an island where the Venageti promptly cut us off from our ships and drove us into a swamp. Cattails were a mainstay of our diet till the fortunes of war shifted. I don’t recall them doing anything remarkable for the temperaments of our sergeants and corporals, who seemed carnivorous enough to eat their own young. Rather the opposite, in a geometric progression.
I know we all took it out on the Venageti when the time came.
Maybe I did not start eating cattails young enough. “Morley, I did a job for a professor at the university one time. He was always spouting who-cares facts. Like one time when he said there are two hundred forty-eight different kinds of fruits, vegetables, greens, and tubers that people eat. Hogs will only eat two hundred forty-six of those. They won’t touch green peppers and they won’t touch cattail hearts. Which goes to show you that hogs have more sense than people.”
“No point trying to salvage you, is there? You’re determined to suicide the slow way. Are the boys hired?”
“They’re hired.” I hoped I would not be sorry.
