Sweet Silver Blues

by Glen Cook

  “Dry as a bone. It’s time we started thinking about how to break up the party.”

  “We can’t dump him in the drink here. After dark Marines watch the shores like hawks in case Venageti agents try to sneak in. They never catch anybody, but that doesn’t stop them.” I did my share of watching in my time. I was very young and very serious about it.

  My successors would be just as young and just as serious.

  Morley said,”Find the busiest, sleaziest cathouse you can. We go in drunk with him between us. We find a dark corner in the waiting room, squat, order drinks for three, tell the madam not to bother our buddy because he’s dead drunk, take our turns at the trade, then get out. They won’t bother him till the crowd thins out because they’ll want to roll him. By then they’ll have forgotten us and he’ll be their problem.”

  “Suppose we run into somebody who knows him?”

  “There are risks in everything. If we dump him here in an alley, whoever sent him will know what happened. My way he’ll have to wonder. That was blockshaush in the ring, wasn’t it?” He used the elvish name for the poison. On our side of the line we call it black sauce.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. By the time his boss finds him it’ll be too late for even a master wizard to tell he was poisoned.” He sounded very thoughtful. I knew what he was thinking. He was wondering what other uncharacteristic surprises I had in store. He was thinking I was tight with the Dead Man, and that was probably why I was carrying poison. He was wondering just how much and what kind of advice the Dead Man had given me.

  I figured a little worry would do him good. It might take his mind off his stomach for a while.

  We ditched our friend Morley’s way. I expected tribes of his buddies to swarm, but it came off smooth. The guy’s boss would never really know what had happened.

  Whowas his boss? Why did he want to discourage me from doing my job?

  26

  I packed a lunch, knowing it would be a long day of runaround at the military city hall. Because they would not let Morley in, I told him to go find out what he could about Zeck Zack. The triplets I sent to watch incoming harbor traffic again.

  “But be careful,” I told Dojango. “They might decide to take you in to ask if you’re Venageti spies.”

  “Actually, that possibility occurred to us yesterday,” Dojango told me. “We’ve lived on the fringes of the law long enough to know when we’re pushing our luck.”

  Maybe so. Maybe so.

  I hefted my picnic basket and went to work.

  First there was a clerk, then a senior clerk, then various sergeants followed by a couple of lieutenants who gave me to a captain who admitted he did not think I would have much luck before he dropped me in the lap of a major. One and all checked my bona fides before sending me on. Sometimes twice.

  I kept a smile on my mug, stayed polite, and kept my tongue on a tight rein. I could play the game.

  I figured I would earn every mark I would gouge from Tate for that day. Besides, it was all part of the plan.

  Outlast the bastards.

  The major was halfway human, and he even looked like he might have a sense of humor. He apologized for the shuffle and I offered to share my lunch.

  “You packed a lunch?”

  “Sure. I’ve dealt with the army before. If it was something complicated, I would have brought a blanket and an overnight bag. You get in the craw of the system and stay there, disturbing routine, somebody is going to go out on a limb, take a chance, tell you what you want to know or make a decision to throw you out, just to get you out from under foot. I get paid exorbitantly for letting people give me the runaround, so I don’t mind.”

  For a moment I thought I had misjudged him. He was not pleased. Knee-jerk response. Give him credit. He gave it a think before he came back. “You’re a cynic, aren’t you?”

  “Occupational hazard. The people I meet leave my faith in human nature mostly negative.”

  “Right. Let’s try again, with the understanding that I’ll be the man who ends your quest with an answer or by having you booted out. You want?”

  “Some way of getting in touch with Major Kayeth Kronk, cavalryman, the only one of the woman’s family of whom I have been able to catch wind. I want to ask if he knows where I can get in touch with his sister. The simple, obvious thing for the army to do is tell me he’s out at Fort Whatever. I’d go interview him. But it won’t work that way. The army will act on the perfectly reasonable assumption that the entire Venageti War Council has been holding its collective breath for years, waiting to discover the major’s whereabouts. So any communications will have to be managed the hard way.”

  “You are a cynic.”

  “I’m also right. Not so?”

  “Probably. What’s your hard way?”

  “I write him a long letter explaining the situation and asking him to meet me here or, if that’s impossible, to respond to a list of questions. The weakness of the method is that I end up having to trust the army both to deliver the letter and to get the reply back to me. My cynical side tells me that that’s too much to expect.”

  He looked at me from a face of stone. He knew I was setting him up for something and was trying to figure out how I was boxing him in. “That’s probably the best you’ll get. If that. It isn’t the army’s problem. But we do help with family matters where we can.”

  “Any help I get will be appreciated. Even if it isn’t much help.”

  He had not figured any angles yet, which might mean that he did not know how a headquarters really worked. “I’ll check with my boss. You check with me tomorrow morning. Just to be safe, bring your letter with you, unsealed but ready to go.”

  That took care of the aboveboard.

  I figured I’d been around long enough—and had explained my problem to enough people—for the word to have spread throughout the headquarters. So I thanked the major, shook his hand, and said I would be heading back to my inn. Did he want to keep the rest of the lunch?

  No.

  I dawdled through hallways. I loitered in corners. Finally, he found me.He being the first staffer to convince himself that I was not a Venageti agent, and therefore safe, and therefore maybe he could pick up a small gratuity by telling me where I could find the man I wanted.

  That had been the whole point of taking the runaround.

  Page 81

  “Fort Caprice?” I asked back. He nodded. I crossed his palm with silver. We both got out of there.

  I went off disappointed. Major Kronk did not, at least now, belong to the same outfit that Denny and his buddies had.

  Dojango and his brothers got back to the inn before I did. When I arrived they were eating like they meant to use up my expense money before the end of the week.

  Dojango reported, “Nothing to report, actually. Nothing came in today. But we did bribe a piermaster to let us go down there mornings and wait for the rest of our family to arrive. Quite a coup, I thought, actually.”

  “Quite a coup,” I agreed. I forbore asking where they had gotten the wherewithal to grease a piermaster. Nothing about those boys was going to surprise me anymore.

  And I have yet to report half their tricks.

  Morley wandered in an hour after I did. “Any luck, Garrett?”

  “I found out where her brother is stationed. You?”

  “Some.”

  “Zeck Zack?”

  “An interesting character. Nothing secretive about him, supposedly. Everybody knows him. Nothing obvious to connect him with your Kronk people. He’s a centaur, an auxiliary veteran who was given citizenship for his service. He’s some sort of middleman between the centaur tribes and the merchants of Full Harbor. The darkest rumor about him is that he indulges in a little night trading. He likes to play with human women. The bigger and fatter, the better.”

  “Can’t hang a guy for that,” I said, demonstrating my vast tolerance.

  “Lucky me.”

  As proven by the prevalence of acc
idents like Morley and his buddies, cross-race contact is a sport too popular for us to go lynching the players.

  Morley went on,”He does own the house, but he’s never there because he’s never in the city.”

  “But there’s more.”

  “Oh?”

  “You have a gleam in your eye.”

  “Probably because I finally found a decent place to eat and got a wholesome meal inside me.”

  “No. It’s more an ‘I know something you don’t’ kind of gleam.”

  “You’ve got me.” But he sat on it till I threatened to take him for a boat ride.

  “All right. Yesterday somebody decided we were too snoopy and deserved a thumping. Had those guys on to us before we started. We bumped a sore tooth somewhere. Unless our friends from the striped-sail ship were behind it.”

  “Or Vasco is in town without us knowing it,” I added.

  “That too. But I thought I’d start with the folks we’d talked to. The down-lane neighbor and Old Witch: no chance. The guy at Zeck Zack’s: surly as hell, no help, maybe, but I couldn’t be sure. I bribed the vermin to keep an eye on the place. So?”

  “Come on! You went to the church?”

  “I asked around before I dropped in. You remember what you said about the gold and silver?”

  “Yes.”

  “That church was inside Venageti lines for thirteen days. Afterward, the Sair was praised for talking the Venageti into sparing the church. Then he and his flock talked the army into releasing a hundred twenty prisoners of war as a counter gesture. Everyone thinks he’s a great man, full of compassion for the enemies of his church.”

  I already knew, but he wanted me to ask. So I did. “But you know different, eh? What do you know, Morley?”

  “A third of those soldiers he sent home, all supposedly common infantry, were Venageti officers who could have been ransomed or put to the question. They surrendered at the church after exchanging uniforms with dead soldiers. At the order of the chief Venageti undercover agent in Full Harbor.”

  “The Sair?”

  “You got it.”

  “You go on like you were there.”

  “I talked to somebody who was.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I do that very well. It’s one of my outstanding talents.

  “I took Father Mike for a walk. After I assured him that I have no interest in politics, and would not use what he told me against him, he told me about it. He’s the old boy’s helper.”

  “Are all the priests in on it?”

  “Just the two. The old boy sent the others to safety when the Venageti began closing in. I guess you can figure why.”

  “Fewer witnesses. So the old boy sicced the dogs on us because he thought we might dig something up on him.”

  “No.”

  “Wait a minute . . . ”

  “Father Mike was very positive.”

  “Who, then, if you eliminate everybody?”

  “Always room for another player in the game. I didn’t get to talk to the hairy priest. Nor to anybody the others mentioned us to, and everybody admitted they did, though they couldn’t remember to who—except that crazy witch. And at her place we had the vermin listening in. There’s no telling who they reported to.”

  “Yeah.” This needed some thought. “You’ve still got the gleam in your eye. You must have gotten around like a bolt of lightning.”

  “Us breeds can move when we need to. Hybrid vigor.”

  “So?”

  “Your friend Kronk died at that church the day it was liberated. Father Mike was vague about details. Kronk was one of the dozen partisans the Venageti took prisoner. Father Mike didn’t think he knew about him and the Sair, but he could have. He doesn’t think Kronk was killed while the Venageti were still in control. The body wasn’t found till six hours after the army moved in. But two others died at the same time. I have the names of the surviving prisoners if you decide to go howling off down that path.”

  “That’s not what I’m here to do. But give me the names and we’ll keep them in mind. In case we keep stumbling over some of them. I see the gleam has gone out. Does that mean the well is dry?”

  “Yes. What now?”

  “Now I write a long letter to Major Kronk for another major’s benefit, while all this information simmers.”

  “Marinates, you mean. I’m sure you’ll soak your brain in a few gallons of beer.”

  I did not feel up to repartee. Too much to digest. “Tomorrow morning I see my major. Then we do a few more interviews. If we don’t strike something hot, the day after we’re off into the Cantard.”

  “Maybe we can bribe a priest to pray for a break,” Morley said. “I’m here, but I’m not thrilled about going out there.”

  “And I am?”

  27

  There were breaks. They were mixed to say the least.

  I went to see my major right after I breakfasted, three eggs gently fried in the grease of a half pound of bacon slowly cooked to a crisp, a mountain of griddle cakes on the side, heavily buttered and buried in strawberry jam. Morley was despondent. He began holding a wake for my health.

  He went out when I did, on the trail of roots and berries, barks and grasses, that would hold still long enough for him to prey upon them.

  The triplets headed for the waterfront to wait for their relatives. I sincerely hoped they had none anywhere. I figured my luck was running so hot a platoon would descend on me like orphans left on the church steps.

  I didn’t have to wait long or put up with much before I was told I could see the major. My outlook began to improve.

  The major took my message after a rudimentary greeting, checked it for messages to the Venageti War Council, said,”This looks acceptable. It will go out in the next courier pouch headed the right direction.”

  “Not going to test for invisible ink?”

  He gave me one of those good hard stares they practice in front of the mirror when they’re shavetails. I let it slide off. “You’re cocky today, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a personality defect. I spent five years on the inside of the service. It’s hard to take it seriously when it doesn’t have a noose around your neck.”

  “Do you really care if your letter gets delivered?”

  I didn’t tell him I never expected it to get beyond the nearest trash receptacle. He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, “Don’t bother us anymore. We’ll let you know when there’s an answer.” I couldn’t tell him I’d brought it in only for form’s sake.

  But he could figure that out for himself.

  “I see that you don’t care about this letter. Someone on the staff obviously took pity and told you. For a suitably warm expression of gratitude.”

  I remained silent.

  “I see,” he said. “I thought so. You needn’t be surprised. Not only can a few of us think, there’re some—mostly majors and colonels—who can figure out how to lace their own boots in the morning. But I won’t ask you about it if you’ll answer a few questions about something else.”

  “Why?”

  “Say I’m looking for a fresh viewpoint on something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I’ll start with a list of names. When you hear one you know, tell me what you know about him or her.”

  “That’s all?”

  “For now.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I scored three and a half out of maybe thirty. One was Zeck Zack. One was a Venageti commander my outfit had fought in the islands who later participated in the attack upon Full Harbor. The third was a dwarfish sharpie who had been executed for misappropriation, fraud, and profiteering, which basically meant he had gotten caught stealing from the army without paying kickbacks to the right officers. The half was a name I knew I had heard somewhere sometime but could not remember where or when or in connection with what. As far as I knew Zeck Zack was the only character there who was still alive.

  I lied about recognizing one more name, that of a
man who had been imprisoned with Klaus Kronk the day he had died.

  “Is that all?” I could see no connection among the names on the list. Maybe there was none, really. Or maybe it would have been obvious to someone who knew who the hell all those people were.

  “Just about. You seem to be what you pretend. You’ve been doing a lot of poking around. Have you stumbled across anything that might interest a man in my position?” He assumed I knew what his position was. I did, now.

  “No,” I lied. I had figured to do my patriotic duty by reporting the Sair. Sometime after arriving I had made an unconscious decision to pass.

  “Would you consider doing a little work for Karenta while you’re doing the job you have already? Wouldn’t cost you much time and shouldn’t take you out of your way.”

  “No.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue.

  “I did my so-called patriotic chore,” I declared. “Five years of my life making sure their gang of thieves didn’t get one up on our gang of thieves. There is no way I’m getting onto that treadmill again.”

  A thought occurred to me. That happens occasionally. He saw it spark.

  “Yes?”

  “I might work a trade.” I had the priest to sell. “If you tell me where to find Kayean Kronk.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh?”

  “I never heard of her till you came in yesterday. She’s no one who’s ever interested this office.”

  “I guess that’s that, then. Thanks for your time and courtesy.” I headed for the door.

  “Garrett. Drop by when you get back from Fort . . . ” He glared at me like I’d almost tricked him into revealing the Emperor’s secret name. “Drop by when you get back. We may have a story or two to swap.”

  “All right.”

  I got out before he decided to look at me a little closer.

  It was too nice a morning just to head for the inn to pick up Morley so we could visit the civil city hall again. It seemed a day made for lying around sniffing a clean seabreeze. I headed for the waterfront.

  The triplets probably needed help watching for their relatives, anyway. They would be so hard to spot.

  I found them doing exactly what I planned to do, sprawled in the sun atop a mountain of army grain sacks awaiting transport to the forts in the Cantard. I’d never have spotted them from the harbor side. I clambered up with a cold keg under my arm. I sent it around once before I asked, “How’s it going, Dojango? Any sign of the family?”