by Glen Cook
His control had grown ragged, but he actually gave my question consideration.
"I'd like to do something, Mr. Tate. I want to do something. My style is to grab loose ends and keep picking till things unravel. But I'm having trouble finding any loose threads. All I can do is keep getting in the way and hope that leads somewhere. Meantime, I keep tripping over all these other people who're looking themselves."
Willard Tate wasn't a wealthy man because he let his emotions rule him. He clamped down. He thought. He told me. "You have resources. The girl. The dwarf chieftain. Those men who work for Contague. Find those two. Keep an eye on them. Let them do your hunting."
He was a storehouse of ideas, all right. Crazy ideas. Follow Crask and Sadler around? Why not just tie boulders to my toes and go for a swim? Save us all time and trouble.
"They're only men, Garrett. Chodo's just a man. You've faced down stormwardens. You've invaded a vampire nest. Did those things use up all your courage and leave you a crippled old man, too?"
He was a manipulator, that guy. "No. What did he want, really?" I hadn't yet gotten a real grip on the fact that he was here. Had he slipped his moorings?
"Money and contacts, Garrett. I've got them. Chodo Contague doesn't intimidate me. I want this Serpent creature. Get her for me Destroy her book if you want. It means nothing to me Just get me her. My mind is set. I'll pay whatever it costs. If you have to work through Chodo Contague, do it. Tell me what you need and I'll provide the tools. But don't sit there cringing."
I wasn't cringing, but wasn't going to argue. He'd started sounding like a candidate for the cackle academy. Having him behind me was all right but preferably far behind and not on any crusade.
How do I get into these messes? I glanced at Eleanor. "Why me?"
Hell. I should get out of this racket. Weider still wants me at the brewery. I could handle security there, work regular hours, and never worry about getting caught up in any wackiness.
A book of shadows that lets somebody change characters like I change socks. Come on. I don't need it.
Tate and I looked at each other for a while. We drank some beer. He had his anger worked out now and seemed abashed. I'd never seen him that way, but in this world anything can happen.
The pitcher went dry. I called Dean. Carla Lindo came. Tate squeaked. The resemblance to Tinnie was strong in the weak light. I said, "This is Carla Lindo Ramada, Mr. Tate. The lady the assassins were after."
He stared. "I understand their mistake. Speaking of which, I made a big one coming here. Made a real fool of myself, eh? Let me get out of your way, Mr. Garrett." He rose, still staring. Carla Lindo was embarrassed.
His sudden change of attitude left me twitchy. I didn't believe it but didn't know him well enough to guess what he was thinking.
But I had the Dead Man to explain it to me. I said, "I'll see you to the door."
Tate was still looking at Carla Lindo when I closed the front door. A platoon of his relatives awaited him out there. Tinnie was the only Tate who went around alone. I wished that just the once, she'd clung to family custom. I'd just as soon I'd never heard of the Book of Dreams.
28
I joined my permanent houseguest. "What was that all about?"
He wished to discover if you had learned anything new. He is considering taking matters into his own hands. Miss Tate's relapse appears to have unhinged him.
"You ask me, his hinges never were on tight. Damn. He's one stubborn runt. He could cause a lot of grief."
That appears to be his intent.
"You get anything useful out of that thick head?"
The best time to purchase leather futures. Should you care to get into the shoe and boot trade.
"You're a scream, Old Bones. Har-har."
Gnorst has been in the thick of it lately. Go see if he will tell you anything.
"Right." it was getting dark out. I really wanted to take a stroll amongst the screeching morCartha and lurking dwarves. "Hell, why not? I still got places that don't have bumps and bruises. Maybe if I get out there fast enough, I can even get myself killed."
He knew no mercy. Do not forget to inquire after the latest from the Cantard.
Probably had a bet on with himself. Loghyr can do stuff like that if they're inclined. They have multiple brains and sometimes multiple personalities.
I huffed out of there and told Dean I was going for a walk. Carla Lindo was there with him. I salivated all over the place. She smiled and posed. Saucy. That was a good word for her. Along with about twenty others.
Dean hammered me with dirty looks. That old boy knows me too damned well, I ought to fire him and get somebody less opinionated. But where could I luck onto somebody who'd do half the job he does?
I checked the street good before I stepped outside. I checked again after I stepped out. I saw nothing obvious but stayed ready to duck. No bolts came whispering death. The only noise was that of the aerial circus. The morCartha had taken their show to the riverfront tonight.
I headed for the Safety Zone. It wasn't out of my way. Morley's place was closed up and dark. I went around back. Nothing. Amazing. Even when the front door is closed, there's always somebody in the kitchen.
I was getting worried.
I tried Saucerhead's place next. This time I got an answer but not from Tharpe. A little blonde about big enough to sit on his palm told me she hadn't seen him all day. She got worried because it was me looking for him. She thought he was with me. I told her to relax, we'd just missed each other. She didn't relax.
I didn't either. There was something going on. And I was zooming around in the middle of it like a blind moth amongst a thousand candles.
A sane moth would have landed and saved his wings.
Speaking of flames. I'd accumulated a tail again. I sensed it as I moved away from Saucerhead's place. I didn't run any games on him. Let him think I didn't know. Let him relax. I'd move fast when I wanted to shake him.
I did change my mind about where I'd go next. I'd been thinking of making the rounds of every shady character I knew willing to sell somebody for a copper. None of those people were friends, but they did trust me not to bring down any heat. I'd lose a lot of sources if I went around fingering them even by accident.
So I headed for Dwarf Fort. Gnorst's crowd could take care of themselves.
I went to the same door. The same old boy—or his evil twin—answered my knock. "I'm Garrett," I reminded him, in case his memory was feeble or a different dwarf had taken up residence behind all the facial brush. "I need to see the Gnorst again." I figured if this wasn't the same dwarf, he'd at least have heard of my previous visit.
Same dwarf or not, he had the same talent for public relations. "You Tall Ones are all alike. Think nobody's got nothing better to do than hop when you say frog, even in the middle of the night. All right. All right. If you must. If you insist. Himself, the very Gnorst, said bring you if you turn up again." His manner suggested he thought his boss was a damned fool.
I stepped inside. "Whoa. Let me close that." I pushed the door shut, to a crack, peeked outside.
Whoever was out there didn't show himself. This was starting to spook me. I'd known only one man that good. He'd died. And there wasn't any doubt he was still dead.
Gnorst met me in the same garden. Maybe that was the only place outsiders were entertained. "How can I help you tonight, Mr. Garrett?"
"Just checking in I wondered if you'd learned anything since we talked."
He shook his head. "Not one damned thing." Man. He lied with such style I wanted to believe him anyway. You got to admire a character who can jerk you around and make you like it. Only I didn't like it. He almost snarled as he said, "I would have sent a message if I had. I thought I told you I would."
Oh really? When? "None of your people knew anything?"
"No"
"That's curious."
"How so?"
"There've been fights amongst dwarves all day. We've had dead dwarves turning up
everywhere. I'd have sworn some were yours."
"You're a victim of your prejudices and preconceptions, Mr. Garrett. Gods bring on the hour when you stop thinking we all look alike,"
I could plead guilty except the little clown was trying to divert attention. He was lying. I knew he was lying. He knew I knew he was lying. He knew I knew he knew, and so forth. But this was his house and no place to challenge him.
I said, "When I came here before, I didn't know anything about any Book of Shadows or what dwarves might have to do with making one. Right'?"
Gnorst nodded. "Agreed. So?"
"You think finding out would make me more dangerous to somebody?"
"Possibly. Not many nondwarves know the story. Even among us it's mostly forgotten. It has been said by the wise, knowledge is dangerous."
"That's what I thought
"Sneaking up on something, Mr Garrett?"
I thought some before I explained.. I wanted it to stay airborne when I shoved it out of the nest, though it would never soar. "The bad boys paid me no attention before I came down here They've been trying to kill me ever since I walked back out. Makes a guy wonder. How was I different? How did they know? Not to mention how come is it that all these skirmishes between dwarf gangs keep turning out inconclusive?"
Gnorst darkened behind his face fur. He started pacing. "I did hear about you being attacked up the street. I didn't put it together before. Yes. I see your point. One of your points. They weren't keeping an eye on you, but all of a sudden, they knew you'd seen me and had become a danger. Though it leaves me embarrassed and ashamed, Mr. Garrett, I must admit that it looks like one of my people is an informer."
Putting it mildly. "That's my guess."
"Out of curiosity, Mr. Garrett, how is it that you're alive to visit me again? I would think that dwarfish efficiency would extend to setting an ambush.
"I got lucky. Chodo Contague's men turned up the first time. Second time I started running before they started sniping. I hope there won't be a next time. I hope they're on the run from whoever has been hitting their hideouts."
He chuckled. It wasn't a nice sound. It was a noise something like the glug-glug of water coming from a ten-gallon bottle crossed with fingernails scraping a slate board.
"I don't find any of this amusing."
"I'm sure you don't, Mr. Garrett. What are you doing?"
I was sneaking toward the edge of the roof. "Somebody's been following me I thought I might get a look at him from here."
I didn't, though. It was so damned dark down there he could have danced in the street without me getting a look I lied, "So that's mainly the reason I came by. To let you know I think you've got a spy on board."
Gnorst grunted irritably. My experience is, his kind are naturally crabby. Gnorst was a paragon of manners and patience. Maybe that was why he was the local boss dwarf. He told me, "You didn't bring me any news I wanted to hear. Now I have to deal with it."
It's hard to read a being who grew up in an alien culture yet looks human enough to make you jump to conclusions. But I had a strong suspicion Gnorst was a lot less unhappy than he wanted me to believe. Maybe he thought having a renegade handy was an asset. I could think of ways that would be true.
"I know what you mean. I've been a regular fountain of bad news all day. Everywhere I go I'm telling somebody something they don't want to hear."
We fenced awhile with words. He wouldn't give up a thing I could use. I surrendered to the inevitable, told him I was going to go dump it all on the Dead Man. He let me go without another word. He wasn't as gracious as he'd been. That questionable attitude infected my guide. The dwarf took no pains to make my passage through the place a comfort.
I froze the moment I hit the street, looked around carefully. Garrett don't get bitten by the same snake twice. I saw nothing. Even so, I moved away ready for anything.
Nothing ever happens when you're ready.
The silence overhead seemed almost ominous. The morCartha had retired, for whatever reason. I almost missed them. They had become part of city life.
29
I had the night to myself. Unless you count sharing with a tail. It wasn't a happy feeling. Empty streets always mean trouble to me.
Whoever was after me was spooky. I only ever knew one guy that good, Pokey Pigotta. Maybe this was Pokey's ghost.
I'd outthought Pokey once when he'd been on me. Maybe I could use the trick again. It was hard to beat for a guy working alone. I looked for a busy tavern I knew would have a back door.
Not my day. It didn't work. I didn't catch anybody sliding in the front door by sprinting around from the back. It was like the guy was psychic. All I accomplished was to let whoever know I knew he was there. Go match wits with a rock, Garrett. Chances are the rock will come out ahead.
Having somebody dog you works on your head. You start out wondering who and why. Pretty soon you're into what if and then imagination flares and you've got a vampire or werewolf or ghoul pack just waiting for you to walk down a dark alley with your eyes closed.
There ain't no comforting thoughts, come a dark night.
Hell with the clown. Let him walk his behind off. He didn't seem interested in messing with me, just in seeing what I got me up to. If I kept moving, he'd have no time to report to whoever sicked him on me.
I was tired and depressed and short on zest for life. Maybe even a little cranky. I get that way when things keep on not going my way. Call me spoiled.
I was near the Bledsoe Infirmary, a charity hospital supported by surviving descendants of the old imperial family, when I sensed a change in the night. It wasn't obvious, just a difference. Nothing I could pin down. My shadow was there still. The morCartha weren't making much racket. Random flying thunder-lizards still ghosted overhead, chasing bats. The streets remained underpopulated. I wondered if it might not be some holiday among the night people
I paused to consider the Bledsoe, a monument to good intentions having become a symbol of despair. A place of fear, where the poor went to die and the mad screamed out their souls in overcrowded, locked wards. The imperial family did all they could, but their best wasn't enough. Their money and donations of labor barely kept it from falling down. It was huge, gray, ugly, and may have been imposing in its prime, a couple of hundred years ago. Now it was just another shabby old building, bigger than but no better than ten thousand others in TunFaire.
I shook my head, startled by an original thought. I couldn't recall ever having seen new construction anywhere in the city. Was the war that big a drain on resources?
The war is the most important thing in all our lives, whether or not we're directly involved. It shapes our selves and surroundings and forges our futures as every minute passes.
Whatever was happening in the Cantard, so heroic the Dead Man could sense it from here, would have a crashing impact on all our lives.
That scared me. I'm not fond of things the way they are, but the only changes I can see will be for the worse. The bigger the change, the more for the worse.
Some tiny sound reached me, some ghostly flicker of motion teased the corner of my vision. I'd been a step too far away from here and now realized it, and my reaction was maybe more vigorous than it should have been. I did me a wild roundhouse kick toward the movement, brought my foot down, ducked and pivoted and lashed the air with a knife.
Crask was saved by the fact that my tippytoe brushed his chin lightly, pushing him back. He'd thrown himself away at the same time. Now he sat on his duff looking up at me with a goofy expression.
"Say..." he said. "Say, what's wrong with you?"
I had so much juice in me so sudden I started shaking. I'd blown it, really. I took some deep breaths to calm me down, put the knife away, extended a hand. "Sorry. You startled me bad."
"Yeah? Well, you got no call..." I shut up as he reached with his left hand. I didn't like the look in his eye. I pulled my hand back before he grabbed it and went to chewing on it.
He got up slo
wly, using only his left hand. I noticed he had his right arm strapped to his stomach. "What happened to you?" Hard to tell in that light but his face looked a little worse for wear, too. He looked less intimidating than usual.
He got up slowly, rubbed his behind. Damn, he looked embarrassed! Maybe it was the light leaking from the Bledsoe... He didn't have an answer.
I leaped to a conclusion. He'd been the guy Winger had discouraged when Sadler had me in that alley. No proof, and he'd never tell, but by damn I'd put money on it. A copper or two, anyway. I grinned. "You shouldn't ought to sneak up that way."
"I didn't sneak. I walked right into you, Garrett."
I didn't argue. You don't with a Crask or Sadler. "What you doing here?"
"Looking for you. Your man said you were headed for Dwarf Fort. I come down this way figuring you'd be headed back by now."
I was going to have to have a talk with Dean. Though it was understandable he'd answer Crask's questions if Crask put on his nasty face. "What's up?"
"Couple things. You seen Sadler?"
"Not since . Not for a long time. Why?"
"Disappeared." Crask didn't waste many words. "Come to see Chodo right after . ." He wasn't going to talk about the incident. "Talked some, then went away. Nobody seen him go. Wasn't told he was supposed to. Nobody's seen him since. Chodo's concerned."
Chodo was concerned. That would be an understatement, as were most statements about the kingpin. In language the rest of us would use, it meant Chodo was mightily pissed.
I don't usually volunteer information, especially to the kingspin's people, but I made an exception. "Guys have been disappearing all over I can't find a trace of Morley Dotes. Likewise Saucerhead Tharpe. You might say I'm concerned, too. I don't hear anything on the street. You?"
He shook his head first, some top skin flashing in the hospital light. "I thought Dotes was sulking on account of we used his place."
"I thought so, too. At first. Only that wouldn't be his style, would it?"
"Nah. Feisty as he is, he'd have busted our heads and kicked our asses out of there if he was really pissed."
