Cruel Zinc Melodies gp-12

by Glen Cook

  He had a problem for sure if he was going to be polite. ‘‘I’ll do what I can, Mr. Creech.’’

  ‘‘Give me an honest assessment of our current case. I’ve caught snippets, naturally, but no context. Only enough to scare me. And you know fright tends to fatten up on ignorance.’’

  This was out of character. He worries about whether or not I’ll give the job enough attention, with enough ambition, to get myself paid.

  I told the story to date, not in detail. ‘‘And you don’t share that with anybody outside the house. Understand?’’

  ‘‘That’s not nearly as bad as I thought.’’

  ‘‘Good. I refuse to look on the dark side today.’’

  ‘‘I’ll do my part.’’

  ‘‘Thanks.’’ Puzzled. That didn’t fit, either. He keeps house, cooks, handles most of the shopping. He isn’t involved in operations, even in his own mind. He’ll behave like a father, a mother, even a wife, sometimes, but never like a business associate.

  I shrugged it off. So the Hill made him nervous. It does that. I waspositive . First thing out, I’d see Mr. Jan. I’d have my fitting and make my peace in the matter of the crippled loaner coat. Then I’d get on back to the theater. ‘‘Is Singe with us this morning?’’

  ‘‘Very much so. I took her a bowl of stewed apples before you came down. She’s working on our accounts. And finding no joy in them.’’

  I headed up to see her, armed with a big mug of honeyed black tea. ‘‘I hear you’re unhappy about something.’’

  Instead of having acquired a normal writing desk Singe had brought in a six-foot-wide wooden easel. It was set at an angle halfway between vertical and horizontal. She had paperwork pinned all over it. Two chests of drawers the height of a normal table stood at either end. Those were piled with stuff, too. Important stuff, I’m sure. That’s all I pile on my desk.

  ‘‘Look at this place. Already. What’s it going to be like in a year?’’

  ‘‘By then I’ll be organized.’’

  ‘‘Right.’’ As the words ‘‘rat’s nest’’ came to mind.

  ‘‘I have been studying shareholder statements from the manufactory. I am not the best accountant. I’m still learning the sorcery of numbers. But most of the partners, us among them, are getting screwed.’’

  ‘‘What? That doesn’t make sense. By who? And where’s the point? We don’t have a big cut to begin.’’

  ‘‘If I steal a fraction of a point from every shareholder, I could siphon off a big chunk of money that none of the individuals would miss.’’ She rattled numbers. She convinced me.

  ‘‘I see it.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t want to worry you. You have all that stuff about the World on your mind already. Forget that Miss Tinnie is part of that management team.’’

  Right. We’ll do that. She’s just the person in charge of fiddling the company numbers. Which was why her name had been mentioned.

  Singe said, ‘‘Tell Mr. Weider next time you see him. Even the managing partners are getting shorted.’’

  Not good. This could come down on Tinnie. ‘‘You scare the shit out of me when you talk like that.’’

  ‘‘There are dishonest people everywhere, Garrett. If there weren’t you would have to get a job.’’

  ‘‘I’ll pass it along.’’ One more thing to brighten Max’s week. ‘‘You saw John Stretch?’’

  ‘‘He can come up with a few rats. Dozens instead of hundreds, but some.’’

  ‘‘How much do we owe him? How much do we have in the kitty? I want to pay Saucerhead and his crew.’’

  ‘‘We owe John Stretch nothing. I allowed no arrears to develop.’’ Looking smug. ‘‘We have no past due debts. We do owe Playmate for the coaches. He has not come for the money. I have it set aside. The Weiders were extremely generous with our advances. I have taken pains to record and annotate every expense on their behalf.’’

  Absolutely terrifying, Singe is.

  I lost track then because somebody hammered on the front door.

  Ignore that. We cannot afford further intrusions on our time.

  So I didn’t go. Old Bones would let me know if it mattered.

  Singe might not have heard anything. She kept on talking numbers.

  I had to get moving. ‘‘I need to go to work. Singe. You didn’t tell me if we have cash enough to ease the pain for Saucerhead and his guys.’’

  Singe did not want to discuss our cash reserves.

  Miss Pular, provide specie sufficient to mollify Mr. Tharpe and his crew.

  Which she did, making sure I didn’t get a look inside the cash box. Probably scared that if I knew how much was in there I’d run out and buy something shiny. Me. The only one around here who doesn’t throw money away.

  The girl came from a harsh environment. You couldn’t blame her for making sure she didn’t have to go back.

  Move it!

  ‘‘All right! I’m going. Hey! The other day Singe said she thought you’d gotten hold of Lurking Felhske. Did you?’’

  She erred. It was Barate Algarda. Someone who might have been Felhske has come within touching range twice. I could not take advantage. He was much too well shielded.

  ‘‘Why would a Lurking Felhske be protected from you? This is a one-Loghyr town and almost nobody knows that. In general, why are we running into so many protected minds?’’ Kip, Algarda, Felhske, the Windwalker. Maybe even the whole Faction and Hill crew.

  Thinking that triggered what seemed an unrelated conjunction down in the deeps of my mind. ‘‘The compliance device. It might not be the red herring you thought.’’

  He watched the gears mesh. His own clunked and ground, sparking a burst of anger, of embarrassment, of temptation to claim he had known all along and was just waiting for me to find the truth on my own.

  So, even I fail to see what I do not expect or would find repulsive. Incest. The clues were all there.

  ‘‘I’d say they don’t try to hide it.’’

  The incest still does not make the compliance device central.But it becomes more interesting.

  Whether or not Furious Tide of Light tried to hide Kevans’ sex, for whatever motive, we knew that Barate knew the truth. We heard him say so. We also heard that Shadowslinger was grandmother to both the Windwalker and Kevans. Could’ve happened more than one way but only one seemed likely. Which was not big in this family, apparently.

  The Windwalker being the exception. Who would not want her daughter following after her.

  ‘‘Here’s a kicker for your don’t-see-what-you-don’t-expect file. The Windwalker might be more jealous than protective.’’

  He pulled the relevant incidents from my recollections. You could be right. A pause of a half minute for some heavy-duty multiple-mind cogitation.

  Kevans would be the one repelled by the idea. No doubt having had direct experience. Which would explain her initialinterest in creating what would turn into the compliance device. She wanted a way to know when her father was interested. To give her time to get out of his way.

  ‘‘Then all for one and one for all, and the kids all hung out at her house.’’

  Indeed. Young Mr. Prose did tell us that the object of the Faction is mutual support. Assuming Kevans had the strength to ask for their help. . . .

  ‘‘That little shit lied to us. He came up with the compliance device. For her. All that stuff about trying to find a way to avoid social mistakes. . . . Smoke screen. Pure bullshit. The little asshole has been leading us around by our prejudices!’’ I got as wound up as the Dead Man had been a minute earlier.

  I had no trouble imagining Kip and Kevans down in their bunker snickering over how they had snookered us. And their own old folks besides.

  If he comes up with any ambition at all, that kid will wind up king of the world.

  This would be a side trail we can take up, on our own behalf, after we have made the World safe for play production.Our wounds are grievous deep but not fatal. We have a drago
n to slay and ghosts to lay.

  True. The kitty had to be fed first.

  But I was so stung I figured I’d be seeing Kip’s mom by the end of the week. Tinnie willing.

  You really must get going, Garrett.

  ‘‘All right. All right. I’m on it.’’ But, of course, I had one more thing to do before I could plunge into the cold.

  I visited Dean, turned him into a temporary operative by giving him instructions involving Joe Kerr, Playmate, John Stretch, Saucerhead’s wages, and Playmate’s fees.

  I stopped off and gave Eleanor a big wink before I hit the street.

  80

  I opened the front door. An arctic breeze handed me a full body swat, shoved me back. ‘‘There’s a freaking blizzard going on out there!’’ I heaved the door shut before the abominable snowmen invaded.

  Time to layer up.

  Dean was at the far end of the hall, wearing a smirk. He’d come out to watch. Likewise, Singe, right there almost within smacking distance. Looking less smug because she hadn’t yet mastered that human trick.

  ‘‘Funny people. Somebody could’ve warned me. Came on kind of sudden, didn’t it?’’

  Not really.

  He was right. The signs had been there. I’d had other things on my mind. Still did, in fact.

  I wondered what other things was doing right now. Showing her hand at home?

  I did layer up, best I could. Then I went out into that mess, operating on the theory that I couldn’t get lost in a city where I’d lived all my life, and driven by a need to show somebody something. Who knows what.

  It ought to be a good day to get stuff done. Shouldn’t be many people underfoot. I didn’t notice anyone watching. I didn’t smell anyone, either.

  Mr. Jan was not distraught about his loaner coat. ‘‘No need to worry, Mr. Garrett. No need. It was crap, though I made it myself. I kept it because the man who ordered it never picked it up.’’ This while he was fitting my new coat. Which I just plain loved. ‘‘You satisfy his marker and I’ll say nothing.’’

  ‘‘How much?’’

  He named a figure that disabused me of any suspicion that he might be a nice, honest, fair little old tailor. I protested. He told me, ‘‘I’m sorry you feel that way. Very well. I’ll put it back on the peg. Jokes may redeem it yet.’’

  Can’t be many people who go by Jokes. There’s only one Saucerhead Tharpe. Probably only one Lurking Felhske. And couldn’t be more than one Jokes Leastor. Who expired of a surfeit of blood loss a couple years ago, after someone he didn’t know as well as he thought objected to one of his pranks.

  Jokes Leastor was exactly the guy who would’ve had that clown coat made.

  ‘‘I’d better have mercy on you, Mr. Jan. Jokes won’t be coming back. Or, if he does, he won’t be needing a coat. Quite the opposite.’’

  ‘‘Has something happened to him?’’

  ‘‘He played one joke too many. He ended up room temperature. A while back, now.’’

  ‘‘I feared as much. He was slow but he did always get around to paying.’’

  Face saved all round, we finished the fitting, I gave him his blood money, donned the remnants of Jokes’ sartorial declaration, then pointed my nose toward the big cold.

  Mr. Jan said, ‘‘This should be done in two to three days. I’ll have a courier take it round to your place. Unless I need you to come back for some final measurements.’’

  ‘‘Excellent.’’

  I returned to the white reflecting on the fact that in just days an old tailor had managed to find out where I lived.

  I made a big mistake. I headed for The Palms. It was the nearest place where I could both get warm and be welcome. I should’ve headed for Playmate’s stable instead. That was almost as close. But Playmate is all boring and honest. Morley Dotes is crooked as a dog’s hind leg. And he’s involved in stuff that keeps me barking with curiosity.

  81

  Abominable men came out of the snowstorm, summoned by the dread melodies of silver whistles. They wore neither blue shirts nor red flop hats. And, as noted, their whistles weren’t made of tin.

  So I never made it to The Palms, where my best pal could’ve told me all about his hopes and plans and schemes.

  Nobody said a word. We all knew our roles. Somebody at the Al-Khar wanted to see me. Somebody at the Al-Khar knew how to find me in the middle of a snowstorm. So I was going to put my life on hold till I’d enjoyed a chat with that somebody.

  One particular somebody was more likely than any other. He didn’t have his runners declare themselves with their headgear.

  The runaround at the Al-Khar was abbreviated. That minikin Linton Suggs got me to Director Relway in jig time.

  The Director was waiting. He wasn’t alone.

  Colonel Block was there to assist. I didn’t know the third man. The deference he received suggested that he was Prince Rupert.The law and order fanatic in the royal household. He had a definite Relway-like gleam in his hard gray eyes.

  Prince Rupert was just two failed hearts away from Karenta’s throne. And he might get there. Which might be good for the kingdom. He had strength. Karenta needs a strong ruler.

  In this pecking order the low man was Deal Relway. Barring lower-than-gravel Garrett, of course, and the gawkers wandering past.

  Relway started by asking questions obviously not his own.

  He was no more happy than I, at the moment.

  He is the most absolute realist I’ve ever met. He knows reality more intimately than he knows his own suite of perversions. He knows he can get anything he wants, and more, if he’s just patient and pliable when the right people are around. He knows that most people who matter agree with the Director of the Unpublished Committee for the Security of the Crown, whatever they offer for public consumption.

  Deal Relway is what he needs to be. Patient. Clever. Deadly. Unacquainted with pity, conscience, or remorse. He may be TunFaire’s future. Nine of ten of the king’s subjects will be thrilled with the future Deal Relway wants to create.

  And there I was. Before much got said, bemoaning—in all privacy, of course—the tyranny sure to come. The tyranny certain to make life more safe, secure, and comfortable for the nine of ten.

  Inarguably, in a TunFaire run by Deal Relway, the only frightened people should be crooks. But the crook class would include anybody who didn’t like the way Deal Relway operated.

  Relway stopped after a half hour of random questions, all of which I answered honestly. And which, frankly, left me puzzled because they didn’t have that much to do with what was going on. Then he and the prince became observers. Along with the ever-changing gallery. Colonel Block said, ‘‘You put us in a tight place this time, Garrett.’’

  ‘‘I’m gonna confess right up front, Colonel. I haven’t got any idea what you’re talking about.’’

  ‘‘Some Hill people got hurt bad at your place yesterday. Two dead, on scene. Another died right after. Two more could still go.’’

  ‘‘That’s bullshit. Link Dierber died. Shadowslinger and Schnook Avery had some broken bones. The other three maybe got a couple bruises apiece. You want me to be honest with you, you maybe oughta not bullshit me.’’

  ‘‘You—’’

  ‘‘Hold on. You guys want to run the world a whole new way. You want to make everybody responsible for their own behavior. Well, get your heads around that this time. Furious Tide of Light brought those people to the World. They were all family of the kids who created the bugs. I had nothing to do with them showing up. Neither did the ownership. If I’d known they were coming I would’ve tried to keep them away. They were sure to interfere with work. And they did. With all the tact their kind usually show. There was bad blood between one of them and one of my consultants. They were half brothers. They had an old feud none of those people would explain. I don’t think it matters, really. The feud caught fire. If I was you slugs I’d worry about Schnook Avery instead of harassing that harmless old fuzz ball, Garrett. Who
had nothing to do with any of it.’’

  Block responded, ‘‘Fact is, we can harass you as much as we want. Nobody will care. Hill folk, on the other hand . . .’’

  ‘‘I’ll care. A lot. One or two others might, too.’’

  Prince Rupert made a calming gesture. Saying nothing. He was kind of a goofy-looking guy, tall and lean.

  Block nodded. ‘‘No point in getting in a pissing contest because the man rubs me the wrong way.’’ That for the benefit of his audience. ‘‘Particularly since he’s connected with TunFaire’s top financiers, magnates, industrial doyens, and criminal masterminds.’’

  Block made the point gently and obliquely but in a way that wouldn’t be misunderstood. Ma Garrett’s boy is tight with some major players. Who might take mortal offense for no reason a true blue blood would understand.

  Senior folk at the social poles, like Relway and the prince, have to nurture the happiness of the stinking-rich merchant classes. They don’t like it. But they have to honor the power of the money.

  Another face of the future.

  I gained respect for Prince Rupert during the prolonged consultation. He said little. He listened. And he heard. When he did speak he avoided stupid with disarming ease, though he never had much to say. I found myself hoping he would have the misfortune to ascend the ladder of succession. Karentine monarchs are ephemeral, crowned and often murdered before we get used to seeing their profiles on the coinage. I didn’t know anyone I’d rather see cursed with the Crown.

  Eventually, I asked, ‘‘Can you tell me the point to all this?’’ I gestured at the red top parade. ‘‘Why do those guys need to come gawk at me?’’

  Prince Rupert was interested in my coat. The fifth time he asked about it, I said, ‘‘I’d give it to you if I had anything else to wear.’’ I sang the sad song of the demise of my own coat, thanks to the good Director. I added several verses about Mr. Jan taking forever to finish the replacement, thanks to the good Director.

  The good Director ground his teeth.

  Colonel Block took me to the exit personally. ‘‘You did good in there, Garrett. You didn’t let us rattle you. You even almost convinced me that you were telling the truth.’’