by Glen Cook
Morley asked. "You see any Rainmaker? I don't. No Maggie Jenn, either."
"He's famous for not being there when the shit comes down." I double-checked Mugwump. He was the healthiest of the survivors.
"Yes. He is. What are you doing?"
"Cutting the guy loose. Sometimes I do stuff just because it feels right."
"Think you'll find anything useful here?"
"Probably not." I noted that we were no longer a we. "Probably be a good idea to go." We'd have the victorious patrolmen back soon and the Guard right behind them.
A bloody knife lay on the floor, probably a torture instrument. I placed it in front of Mugwump. "So let's scat."
58
"Freeze, slimeblog!"
Huh?
I was always a rebel. I didn't freeze. I didn't even check to see if I was outnumbered.
Neither did Morley. And he was where the speaker couldn't see him.
I dove, rolled, came to my feet out of view, charged. Morley attacked from the other side of the doorway, low, shrieking.
One lone heavyweight had thought he could bluff me. He didn't pull it off.
Morley smacked and kicked him about nineteen times. I whacked away with a headknocker rendered magically unbreakable. Down the man went, his expression saying it just wasn't fair. Poor baby. I knew what he meant. Just when you think you've got it knocked, along comes some clown with a bigger stick.
Morley and I got no time to congratulate ourselves. More patrol types materialized. After the intellectual form of their subspecies, one demanded, "What's going on here?"
Bippetty-bappetty-bopp!
I was not unaware that real heroes flail around with singing swords while I rated only an enchanted hunk of oak.
Morley whooped and hollered and popped guys all over the place. He was having a great time. He could hustle when he was motivated.
We broke through. We headed upstairs, disdaining the front way because every thug on the Hill had gathered to attend the business of counting bodies, cussing villains, and abusing captives.
My normally abysmal luck failed to assert itself completely, mostly because the patrol guys were making so much racket. They couldn't hear me and Morley getting away.
"Let's try the balcony first," Morley suggested. "And quickly."
I didn't expect an easy getaway. Anybody with half a brain would have posted guards at every potential exit.
You never know, though, when you're dealing with TunFaire's bonebreakers. Most can't think past the next arm they mean to twist. They're efficient and technically polished within their specialty but feeble when it comes to planning and making decisions.
There had been a major engagement on the second floor, back toward the balcony door. There was a lot of blood but no bodies. Blood trails indicated that several bodies had been dragged out of what had been a lumber room last time I looked. My impression was that here was where the Outfit's invasion first met serious resistance. I wondered why. That room was no place to make a stand.
I took time out to look it over.
What the hell?
Seconds later, Morley called from the balcony exit, "What're you doing? Come on! There's nobody out there right now."
I finished scanning the vellum sheet, one of several pages come loose from a book evidently damaged during the fighting. The rest of the book was gone. The loose pages might have gotten lost during a hasty getaway.
"I'm going to leave you here," Morley threatened.
I folded the vellum, slipped it into my shirt. Best to get going and not pique Morley's suspicion. I'd read the story before, anyway. The whole book, not just one page.
I reached the balcony, saw that Morley had given up on me and dropped into the alleyway. I glanced right and left, spied no trouble moving in. I landed beside Dotes. "We probably ought to split up now."
He eyed me closely. He's sure that any time I know what I want, I'm up to something that won't be to his advantage. I can't fathom why he would think that way. I said, "Do me a big one. Couple hours from now I'm going to lead that clumsy guy down to your neighborhood. Help me grab him."
"Why?"
"I want to talk to Winger. He'll know where to find her."
He gave me another glimpse of his suspicious side, then told me, "Be careful. Right now, they're touchy around here. They'll jump anything that moves."
I nodded, less concerned about me than about him.
59
I wasn't in a real good mood. I didn't turn cartwheels when Colonel Block waved his clowns off and told me, "Cheer up, Garrett. It's all straightened out."
"How can you put these clowns on the street if they can't recognize a pass put out by their own beloved captain?" What, me worry about getting off the Hill? I had passes and paper from a troop of heavyweights.
"The fellow who reads and writes doesn't normally opt for a career in law enforcement. And you'll have to admit that you refused to provide any good reason for being where you were found."
"Where I was found? I was—"
"Detained, then."
"And with way too much enthusiasm. I did try to cooperate. They wouldn't let me talk."
"I will."
"Huh?"
"I'll let you explain. To your heart's content."
A wise guy. I admonished myself to be careful. Quietly. "I was just trying to do what the Firelord hired me to do. I'd heard a rumor the Rainmaker was hiding out on the Hill."
Block offered me a try again look. I wasn't snowing him. His agents would have relayed any such rumors. "What happened in that house, Garrett?"
"You have me at a disadvantage, Captain."
"It's Colonel, Garrett. As you know. And that's true. I do have you. If I wanted, I could send you over to the Al-Khar to be held for questioning. It's entirely possible for somebody to fall between the cracks there, same as in the Bledsoe."
The Al-Khar is TunFaire's city jail. "Why you want to be like that?"
"Mainly because I don't like to be jerked around. I have an eyewitness who saw two men climb a drain-spout. One of them was dressed exactly like you."
"Without so many rips and tears, I'll bet. Doubtless a daring youth out pretending to swash a few buckles. An amazing coincidence."
"Witness summoned the local patrol. Patrol went looking around and found a house showing multiple signs of forced entries. Inside they found lots of corpses and plenty of people willing to fight. I wouldn't accuse you of stretching any rules, Garrett. Not you. You're not that kind of guy. But I'd bet that if I wanted to spring for a cut-rate diviner, I could place you inside that house. Hm?"
I admitted nothing.
"Give me a hint, Garrett. Who were those people?"
I could discern no obvious profit in keeping my yap shut and sliding farther out of official favor. "Some were the Rainmaker's people."
"Was that so hard?"
Of course it was. Guys like me aren't supposed to cooperate with guys like him, especially if doing so would save some headaches. In my racket, you're supposed to be troll-stubborn. Apparently, dumb is supposed to help, too. "The others answered to the Combine. I've heard that a long time ago Cleaver had some part in the death of Chodo's brother." I doubted Block was hearing much that was news.
"I see. And Chodo pays his debts."
"Always."
Block had stayed seated, fortified behind his desk. Now he picked up a folded document bearing a fancy seal, tapped it against his desk top. "How bad will it get, Garrett? We in for a gang war?" That wouldn't look good on his record.
"I doubt it. You know Chodo's rep. Cleaver had to hire his muscle out of town. After this fiasco, he'll have not friends left. His dearest boyfriend is gonna ask ‘Grange Who?' "
Block kept tapping that document. It looked more legal by the minute. He mused, "So many people interested in Grange Cleaver." He waved that paper. "Including mine, now." As if only then realizing what he held, he said, "This just came in. One Grange Cleaver is to be found and brought before the
Court of Honor of the Magistry of Manpower Procurement. There's no record of him having performed his obligated service to the realm." You had to be there to get the full effect of Block's seditious sneer and sarcastic tone.
I grunted. Hadn't I thought maybe Cleaver was a dodger?
"I'm not going to strain myself trying to round up dodgers. Get out of here, Garrett."
I patted myself. Yep, I'd gotten back everything that was mine. Block's crew were almost honest. I started to take his advice.
"Wait!"
Damn! I knew he'd change his mind. "What?"
"You still seeing Belinda Contague?"
He knew too much about me. "No."
"Too bad. I thought you might suggest to her that her dad recall that it's to be kept off the Hill."
"Oh." A slightly more than gentle hint that he wanted all that passed along. "I don't think there'll be a problem again." Since all of Belinda's thugs dumb enough to get involved up there were no longer with us.
I got out.
60
It had been a long, hard day. And it was just getting started. Aching all over, looking way too much like a guy who got into one-sided brawls with zealous minions of public safety, I sneaked through the postern door of the Royal Library. Which was a whole lot less of a big deal than you might think.
Old Jake was supposed to keep that door secure, but when he did that his wartime cronies couldn't get in with supplies of liquid refreshments. Old Jake was all the security the library had. He didn't get around so well on his wooden leg, but his heart was in the right place. Linda Lee had a bad habit of saying he was me at twice the age.
Jake was asleep. What the hell. There wasn't a lot in the library your average thief would consider worth stealing.
I slipped past the grizzled old goat. He was snoring. I'd seldom seen him do anything else. Hard to believe he'd been given a job for life because he'd lost his leg becoming one of the all-time heroes of the Royal Marines. Sometimes it's better to have your legends dead.
I went looking for Linda Lee. I hoped I wouldn't scare many of her coworkers before I found her. They were easily spooked.
She found me.
I was peeking around the end of a stand of shelves—stacks, in the approved jargon—when she spoke behind me. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
I caught my breath, got it back where it belonged, made sure my feet were back on the floor, then turned around. "I'm thrilled to see you, too. You're as lovely as ever."
She looked me up and down. Her cute upper lip wrinkled. "You just stay where you are. And answer the question."
I opened my mouth, but she didn't stop. "You really ought to take more trouble with your personal appearance. Good grooming is important. Come on. What are you doing here?"
I opened my mouth.
"You're going to get me into bad trouble—"
I pounced. I clapped a hand over her mouth. She wiggled a little—a not unpleasant experience. "I wanted to talk about the book somebody stole from you. Was it a first edition of The Raging Blades?"
She managed to stop wiggling and started listening. She shook her head.
Startled, I growled, "Damn it! I really thought I had it locked." I turned her loose.
"It was a first of The Steel-Game. The library has had it since early imperial times." She went on about some ancient emperor having wanted to assemble a set so he could seek Eagle's fabulous horde, about how no outsider could have known the book existed.
I expelled some remarks of my own. "Ha! I was right! Wrong book but right idea." I produced the fragment of vellum I'd lifted from Maggie Jenn's place, a solitary page from The Metal-Storm, edition uncertain, but people had died trying to protect it from other people who hadn't cared about it at all. The intensity of that encounter had set the tone for the atrocities that followed.
Linda Lee asked, "What about The Raging Blades? We've never had a first of that one."
"Because I saw a copy the other day. Somewhere where it shouldn't have been. But I didn't realize that until today. Then I thought I could solve your troubles."
I'd begun developing troubles of my own. Linda Lee wouldn't stay still. I couldn't stay focused. She was too close and too warm and had begun purring like she really appreciated my thinking of her.
"You just come on down here, Jack! I'll show you. You wouldn't believe me, but I'll show you."
A voice muttered, "I wouldn't believe you if you told me the sky was up, old woman."
"You fell asleep. You go ahead and lie, but we all know you fell asleep at your post and let an outsider get in. You're too old."
I hated that woman's voice almost as much as I hated the voice of the Goddamn Parrot despite having heard it only a few times. Those few were a few too many. It was nails on slate, whined through the nose, always complaining.
"Talking about old, you been dead three years but too damned stupid to realize it. Still got people to make miserable, too." Old Jack didn't care if he hurt her feelings, but it wasn't likely he would. She was two-thirds deaf.
"You were sound asleep when I came to get you."
"I was resting my eyes, you impossible hag." Clump! Old Jack collapsed. His fingers weren't too nimble anymore. When he got in a hurry, he sometimes failed to get his wooden leg strapped on right.
I gave Linda Lee a peck on the forehead. "I'd better run."
"Later." She winked fetchingly. I've always had a soft spot for women who wink. "Promise," she breathed, then went to help Old Jack. She ignored the old woman, who didn't miss the attention. She was doing just fine carrying two sides of an argument herself.
I ducked out of sight. The old man hadn't seen me, so he started spouting off about frustrated old maids who imagine men lurking behind every stack.
61
A long, hard day, and not yet done. I had aches where plenty of people don't have places. I'd walked too many miles and had been thumped too many times. Hell, this was like the bad old days when the Dead Man made sure I got no rest at all.
I told myself I would make one last stop, then I would hang it up for the day. Then I groaned. I recalled my arrangement with Morley.
Not Winger on top of everything else. Why had I done that?
Good soldier, I soldiered on.
I wondered what bean-brained civilian had come up with that one. Every soldier I ever knew never moved a muscle unless that was the final option.
I sensed trouble long before I hove in sight of Wixon and White. That end of town was silent with the silence that bubbles around immediate, terrible violence.
The moment passed. The ghouls were gathering when I reached the storefront, panting over the bloody wreckage.
One look and I knew smart money would choose putting one set of toes in front of the other and repeating the process briskly. In my case, while facing in a southeasterly direction. But I just had to take a fast look around the shop.
Colonel Block banished his henchmen with a wave. "Cheer up, Garrett. It's all straightened out now."
"Must be an echo in here." Not to mention way too much sunlight. The stuff flooded in through an open, eastern window casement at gale force. It was way too early for any reasonable man to be upright. Block obviously wasn't reasonable. Tell the truth, I wasn't feeling real reasonable myself. "We've got to stop meeting like this."
"Wasn't my idea, Garrett. You enjoy your accommodations?"
I'd spent a too-short night on a straw pallet in a stinking cell in the Al-Khar, charged with being a possible witness. "The fleas and lice and bedbugs enjoyed my visit." They should feel right at home. Block was a dirty dog.
"This is where you tell me why my men found you right in the middle of another massacre."
"Somebody yelled for help and your gang actually showed up. I was amazed." The old Watch would have headed the other direction, just to make sure nobody got hurt that didn't need hurting. "Thought you said it was all straightened out."
"I meant I know you didn't slice anybody into cold cuts. Wit
ness says you showed after the screaming stopped. I want to know why what happened happened. And how come you were there."
"Grange Cleaver."
"That's it?" He waited for me to say more. I didn't. "I see no connection. Maybe you'll enlighten me. Meantime, you should know it looks like some really nasty black magic did the killing."
I nodded, but I didn't believe it. "That's what doesn't make sense." Someone made it look like magical murder. I was willing to bet Robin and Penny had kept their appointment with doom through the agency of a devil named Cleaver, once again trying to point a false finger at Marengo North English. Made me think Emerald Jenn was holed up with North English and Cleaver wanted to bust her loose.
"Why do I got a feeling you're being too cooperative, Garrett?"
"What? Now what the hell do you want? I answer your questions, you get aggravated. I don't answer them, you get aggravated. If I wanted aggravation, I'd stay home and argue with the Dead Man."
"You're answering questions, but I got a hunch you aren't telling me what I want to know."
I took a deep breath. We were about set for one of those ferocious head-butting sessions so gratifying to men of our respective professions. I exhaled...
An ugly little breed stormed in. He scowled at me like I had no right to be cluttering up Block's office. I nodded. "Relway." He didn't respond.
"It's started," he told Block.
"Damn them." Block lost all interest in bugs as small as me. Must be fatter victims available somewhere else. He glared at me, though. "The Call." He stalked after his secret police chief, who was gone already. "Get out of here. And try not to stumble over any more bodies."
Good advice all. Maybe he wasn't a complete dunce.
What was that about The Call?
Didn't take long to find out. I hit the street. Off east, looking like it might not be rooted far from my place, was a growing tree of smoke. I caught snatches of news from people rushing through the streets.
