by Glen Cook
‘‘Playmate had a good idea.’’ I sure could use Rocky. Nothing much will dent a troll, let alone do serious damage. Plus, Rocky was small enough to get around in the same kinds of places dwarves can go. While being a dozen times stronger.
Hell, this was an idea so great it was embarrassing that it took a preacher man to think it up.
There was a problem, though. Trolls and dwarves are not an inert mix. No way could I send Rocky down to help Rindt Grinblatt. The Grinblatts would, almost certainly, attempt to test to destruction Rocky’s natural invulnerability.
‘‘Here’s what you do to start. John Stretch!’’ I beckoned the ratman. ‘‘John Stretch, this is Rocky. He’s going to go inside with you. He’ll handle any physical challenges that come up.’’ I told Rocky what we were up against and how he could protect the ratmen.
He said, ‘‘I hope it’s warmer inside there, Garrett. This cold really slows me down.’’
‘‘Warm won’t be a problem.’’ John Stretch’s people were complaining about the heat. And ratfolk like it hot.
Rocky went off with John Stretch.
Luther planted himself in front of me. Before he started, I said, ‘‘Work around them.’’
‘‘There’s ghosts already. They don’t usually come out this early.’’
‘‘We’re trying to deal with that. Remember, they’re harmless. They just manipulate your emotions.’’
‘‘Yeah. I know. But knowing and believing are two whole different buckets of monkey piss.’’
That was hard to argue. I’d seen it too often. Fear has its own logic. Too often, there isn’t a dread of physical harm driving it. ‘‘All right. If you must, take breaks. That’s all right. As long as I see everybody challenging their courage.’’ I leaned in, whispered, ‘‘We don’t want no ratmen making us look bad, do we?’’
During Snoots’ visit I’d gotten the notion that Luther didn’t disdain rightsist ideals.
Luther was surprised. For an instant. Then puzzled. Then satisfied enough to smile. ‘‘Right. Got you.’’
Which left me feeling unclean. But not a lot. That’s management. Tell them what they need to hear to get them through the day. Tomorrow can take care of itself.
I screwed up my courage, went inside to see how the ratfolk were doing. Wondering why Singe hadn’t come to stick her nose in.
The heat was amazing. I ordered every doorway propped open. Why hadn’t anybody done that? And there were vents up top, there to let the heat out when the World filled up with playgoers. Those were shut, too.
Might the thing down below be like a snake or thunder lizard? Or troll? Would a good chill slow it down?
The ratmen were staying out of the way of the workmen. Who weren’t being too unpleasant to them. John Stretch had set up down on the cellar level. That helped.
Ghosts wandered everywhere. At least a dozen of them, all just milky shimmers. The ratmen saw them but weren’t impressed. The tradesmen weren’t bothered, either. None coalesced into anything anyone found frightening. Too many minds, too many ghosts, too many distractions.
A lot of people doing a lot of stuff might just be the perfect workaround.
Luther, making a circuit of his troops, paused to shoot me a thumbs-up.
58
Morley Dotes invited himself in to tour the monster destined to be the talk of high society. My first hint of his presence was him saying, ‘‘I’m impressed, Garrett.’’
Startled, I stopped watching Rocky crunch bugs. The midget troll wasn’t fast but didn’t have to be. He’d found the hole that the biggest insects used to get into the cellar. He let them come to him. The rats had gone down by lesser ways and were driving the bugs toward him.
Morley twitched as I turned. A ghost had bumped him from behind. He looked back, didn’t see anything, but twitched again when the ghost touched him again.
Interesting. I hadn’t seen a ghost touch anyone before.
‘‘What the devil?’’ Morley said. ‘‘You have practical joke spells floating around in here?’’
‘‘No joke.’’ I explained. ‘‘You really don’t see anything?’’
‘‘No. But I feel it. It’s like being touched by cold, wet hands.’’ He twitched, turned quickly. Several times.
‘‘We need to get you out of here. You’re drawing them like you might be good to eat.’’ Six were in touching distance. The rest were drifting our way.
The Dead Man should find that interesting.
We ran into Belle Chimes at the door. He didn’t recognize Morley. Nor Morley, him, either. I didn’t bother with introductions. I told Bill my best friend seemed to attract ghosts but couldn’t see them.
‘‘He might be psychic,’’ Bill suggested. ‘‘Which would make him more obvious to them than the rest of you are.’’
‘‘Why can’t he see them?’’
Bill shrugged. ‘‘Garrett, I’m just a guy who lives over top of a third-rate bar.’’
«But …»
‘‘Not my field of expertise. What’s his problem?’’ He pointed.
I looked.
Morley hadn’t stopped twitching just because we’d gone outside.
‘‘The spooks came out with him. A couple of them.’’ By squinting, cocking my head, and looking slightly to one side, I could detect them. But they were fading. ‘‘Morley. Scoot your ass on across the street. See if they can stay with you.’’
My best pal said unflattering things. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t like it. But he did what I said.
‘‘Try getting into shadows,’’ I told him. ‘‘The spooks are easier to spot when they’re not in the light.’’
‘‘They’re gone.’’ He’d moved only a few steps into the street.
‘‘You sure? How do you know?’’
‘‘I know because there’s nobody painting me with cold porridge fingers anymore.’’ He came toward me, a step at a time. And defined the range of the spooks in seconds. ‘‘Three steps make all the difference.’’
I wasn’t happy. I’d just found out that the ghosts could come outside a good ten yards. Would their range increase again tomorrow?
About the time Saucerhead was set to christen his sudden new guard shack, we discovered that Morley’s escape marked a supernatural high water. The ghosts’ range dwindled fast, afterward. Possibly because of the chill winter air flooding the World.
John Stretch told me, ‘‘We do not like this cold. But the rats definitely like what it is doing to the bugs down under.’’
‘‘Good?’’
‘‘Good. This time we may get them all.’’
‘‘You’ll need to find their eggs,’’ Belle Chimes told us. ‘‘Otherwise they’ll just keep coming.’’
‘‘That’s true,’’ I said. And thought about the Grinblatts.
I’d heard nothing from the dwarves.
I worried. There should’ve been something, if only a ‘‘Screw you very much!’’ ‘‘Hey, Rocky. I’ve got a mission for you.’’
‘‘More fun than squashing bugs?’’ His outside was covered with insect insides.
‘‘I can’t tell you a lie. No. It could even turn unpleasant. I’ve got some dwarves that might’ve got themselves into a tight spot.’’
Troll faces aren’t especially expressive. But Rocky managed to betray his thoughts without saying that tight spots are right where dwarves belong. The tighter the better. A pine box, eight feet down, being ideal. Or maybe farther than that, just to be sure they didn’t claw their way out.
‘‘They love you, too. We’ll make it a compromise. You go check, see if they’re all right. That’s all you got to do. Just come back and tell me. Anything that needs doing I’ll take care of myself.’’
Rocky glowered. Volcanic rumbles started up inside him. Digestive distress? I hoped.
‘‘And all this will pay exactly the same as having fun. Right?’’
‘‘Exactly.’’ I wasn’t going to hand out a bonus because an
employee did what he was told. ‘‘Come on.’’
I took Rocky to the abandoned house. I explained again. Rocky grunted, muttered something about if a man wanted a job done he ought to have the stones—snicker —to get in there and do it his own self.
He didn’t understand. I was management. Management don’t get its hands dirty. Management concentrates on making conflicting decisions and issuing orders with no obvious rationale behind them.
I’d make a fine manager. I had the example of my partner to emulate.
Rocky was gone long enough to get me worrying. But he did turn up eventually.
‘‘Your dwarves ain’t lost. You’re wasting your time worrying about them.’’
‘‘Why’s that? And what took so long?’’
‘‘It takes a troll time to sneak, Garrett. And I didn’t want them to know I was listening.’’
‘‘Tell me.’’ I sensed a disappointment coming on.
‘‘They were talking about how to fix things up after they move in. And how to clean out the mess. And where they could sell some of the stuff that’s lying around down there.’’
‘‘What kind of stuff?’’ Evidently they’d had no trouble with the stuff that had frightened me. But, then, Kip and the kids had had plenty of time to change the whole lay of the underground land.
‘‘Glassware. All kinds. And funny tools. And stuff.’’
I muttered. I grumbled. I groaned. That would be the Faction’s laboratory stuff.
Belle or Saucerhead or somebody had suggested, in passing, flooding the down below. I spent a few seconds wondering about how I could get the water.
There would be difficulties. The neighbors would be disgruntled. And wouldn’t be understanding. Unless they had unwanted big-ass bugs in their own secret basements.
Reassured about the Grinblatts, I went back inside the World. Rocky filled me in on what he’d overheard as we walked.
Rindt Grinblatt had talked himself into thinking that he’d stumbled across the pot at the end.
Friend Rindt was due some disappointment.
59
I snapped, ‘‘I swear by all the gods that ever infested this damned city, you people just flat refuse to be satisfied.’’
John Stretch’s henchrats and Luther’s workmen alike complained constantly about the cold. ‘‘Anybody see any ghosts?’’
Headshakes.
‘‘And there you go. Stop whining. Get back to work.’’
Shivering, John Stretch told me, ‘‘We have seen no bugs for a while, either, Garrett.’’
‘‘Excellent! Wow! Look at me. Making good things happen.’’ I turned slightly. ‘‘So what do you want?’’
Morley looked offended. He said, ‘‘I hope your bark is worse than your bite.’’
‘‘Sorry. Getting tired of people who whine all the time.’’
He flashed a mocking smile. ‘‘I came to say we found a perfect venue. Thanks for the idea. When the new place is up, dinner is on the house. Whenever you want.’’
‘‘Wow.’’ I smacked the crankiness down, tied it up wiggling and squealing in a mental bag that wouldn’t hold it long. I pasted on a smile that probably looked like I’d borrowed it off a corpse. ‘‘Great. Good for you. Did you catch Lurking Felhske and turn him in for the reward?’’
‘‘No.’’ Puzzled.
‘‘Then how can you finance a new shop?’’ He’d been desperate as recently as yesterday.
‘‘I found an angel who likes the idea better than I do.’’
Interesting. I tossed up an inquisitorial eyebrow.
Which he ignored like a pregnant girlfriend.
The question had to be answered sometime.
John Stretch coughed. He wanted my attention back. He said, ‘‘The bugs are sluggish down there now.’’
‘‘You just told me—’’
‘‘Meaning they are not attacking anymore. The rats tell of a steady wind bringing hot air up and pulling cold air in behind. They have found many kinds of grubs and pupae. The grubs have distracted them. They keep stopping to eat.’’
‘‘That’s not bad. Let them get fat.’’
‘‘Trouble,’’ Morley whispered, looking over my shoulder.
I turned.
Barate Algarda had invited himself into the World. And he’d brought a date. She was a pale wisp of a woman, five feet ten, thin as a starveling elf, going maybe a hundred pounds with gear and hair included.
That hung to her waist in streamers and fanciful braids. It was blond, so pale that in the available light it looked white. Her eyes were implausibly large and blue.
So heavily was she bundled that I feared she might be even more insubstantial than I first thought.
Furious Tide of Light. Sorceress of the most dangerous sort.
Had to be.
But such a forlorn waif . . .
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
I was not unique. Every man in the place felt it. Morley’s breathing became labored, like he had run a long way to get here in time to embarrass himself.
Despite the magnetism, at first I figured she couldn’t be more than thirteen. She had no apparent figure.
But she had a daughter older than that. I needed to remember that.
I lost the color of her eyes as she considered the chaos inside the World. But I felt them. Like I’d felt the eyes of great, deadly snakes when I was in the islands. When I caught it again they seemed to be green.
Saucerhead and several of his thugs materialized behind the couple. He gave me an inquiring look. I had no answer. I just shrugged.
Algarda headed my way after a pause for effect. Arrogantly confident. His companion followed a step behind and one to his left, letting him shield her. Despite his breathing difficulties Morley managed to drift away so he could get a clear line of sight. Carefully, not knowing who these people were but recognizing what.
Whatever their physical appearance, they have a distinctive smell, our Lords off the Hill.
I gulped some air. Then glanced aside. That gave my mind an opportunity to reengage.
I turned back. The frail frail had aged precipitously. Now she was a woman my age fighting a desperate rearguard action against conquering time. Her eyes were violet and my hunger wasn’t any less wicked.
There’s a puzzle for the great minds. How come one woman can inspire ferocious, unreasoning desire while another, virtually identical . . .
Never mind. That’s a mug’s game. If, by some wild chance, the boffins did find an answer, women would change the question.
The Dead Man would, no doubt, go on about unconscious cues presented by the personalities inside. Meaning that the same body, occupied by different souls, would conjure different responses.
Furious Tide of Light absolutely reeked of ‘‘Come and get it like you’ve only ever imagined getting it before.’’ She could fog the minds of those statues of forgotten Karentine heroes that infest the government part of town. She might even make Max Weider glad that he’d lived long enough to meet her.
What caused an insecurity so deep that a girl needed to wrap herself up in an aura that powerful?
Strategically positioned between the Windwalker and me, Algarda looked around. He learned what he wanted to know in an instant. He told me, ‘‘The Windwalker promised your partner she’d help undo the mischief Kevans loosed down here.’’
‘‘Really?’’ My recollection was, Kevans was behind the compliance device, not the robust bugs. With drool dripping as I tried to ignore the Windwalker.
For once the gods were not cruel. Tinnie was somewhere else.
A damned good thing there were witnesses. None of them more smitten than I.
Not even my best pal.
Furious Tide of Light had a characteristic I’d noted before in women who have that smack-in-the-chops impact. She didn’t know what she was doing, which meant she didn’t pay attention. I had a feeling she really didn’t know much about the interplay between men and women. M
aybe because she’d never had time for anything but what helped her become Furious Tide of Light.
Tinnie might ask, if she was so damned naive, why did she dress like that? Pointing out that the woman was bundled against the weather would be a waste. The argument would become something about her using witchcraft to inspire the response she did. At which point I would meticulously fail to declare that the entire female subspecies practices that same black magic. Some just get blessed with a bigger ration. Some were maybe behind the door when it got passed out. Or didn’t get in line. But it’s there in most of them, making sure there’ll be future generations.
Which thinking didn’t get on with finding out why the Dead Man had sent these people to join me. ‘‘Let’s step aside so we can talk.’’
The Windwalker appeared to be considering the World as though it was something she was dreaming. She reached out to touch a curious ghost.
60
Distracted, I’d let the spooks slide out of awareness. Now I noted that all the nearer shapeless glimmers were moving in on the Windwalker.
Curious.
The woman said something so softly I couldn’t catch it. Barate Algarda didn’t seem concerned. ‘‘Your partner being what he is, I’m sure you know the situation in our household. Try not to let your prejudices get in the way.’’
What the hell did that mean? I started to ask. His expression stopped me. We weren’t going to talk about it. Over my dead body, if necessary.
I’ve had plenty of practice not judging my clients. The people I have to work with, or for! ‘‘I can do that.’’
‘‘Good. We understand that Kevans is involved in . . .’’ He lost focus. A ghost had captured his attention. The Windwalker fixed on that same apparition. A pseudopod of shimmer reached toward her.
The Windwalker looked up at Barate Algarda with a big, glowing smile. She eased over against him, slipped an arm around his waist, hugged. He responded in kind.
They saw the same thing. And it made them happy.
The Windwalker shed a decade, or more, becoming the adolescent I’d thought I saw when she showed up. She could give Belle Chimes lessons. She bounced with youthful excitement. Algarda grinned, pleased. She extended her hand to the ghost. Algarda reached out, too.
