by Glen Cook
"Yo, Garrett! That was some brilliant show you put on in there. You foxed the old boy right out of his garters."
"Don't you start on me, Winger You want something, spit it out. If you don't, you better scoot back in there and make sure old Fido don't choke on his rug. You might miss a payday."
"Hey. Here I come trying to be friendly, trying to build some bridges, and all you want is to start a fight."
"Want to build a bridge?" I grumbled "Tell me what's with the new look in there. What's with the zoo on the roof?"
"Old goof is getting set for the new era. Getting his props together so he'll have the right look once he gets hold of the Book of Dreams."
"Huh?" That's Garrett. Swift on the uptake.
"Claims he knows where it is."
"Where?"
"He didn't tell me. He don't trust me."
Couldn't say I blamed him for that. Winger would sell him out to the highest bidder if she got the chance. "Any hints?"
She shook her head. "Just said it's there for the taking soon as he figures how to get past one big obstacle."
Probably like not knowing where it was. "The Serpent? Chodo Contague grabbed her last night." Finding some guile at last, I figured maybe I could keep an eye on Fido, grab the book from him after he grabbed it, before he could start using it.
"We heard. Who cares? He isn't interested in her, except to stay out of her way and grab the book before she does."
All hell broke loose overhead. Daytime or not, the morCartha from Fido's roof went on the warpath. Easterman's human servants yelled at them to come back or get fired. I asked, "What the hell?"
Winger said, "They do that. Probably spotted a critter from another tribe."
"I should've stayed in bed." This was all Dean's fault.
"You know where the book is, Garrett?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I? I'd be waving bye-bye to my friend at the west gate." I gave Carla Lindo a one-armed hug I'd at least be trying to collect a suitable reward.
Winger ignored Carla Lindo. "We got to have a sit-down, see what we can come up with if we put our heads together."
"Right."
She didn't catch my sarcasm. I think she was immune to it, or at least deaf. Besides being color-blind. She said, "That thing's still worth a fortune, Garrett. Word is, there's a dwarf willing to put up big money for it. More than Easterman would"
"You going to turn on him?"
"If there's money in it." Like maybe I had that kind of cash. Sure. In my sock. She said, "He never did nothing to make me want to stay loyal. He treats them damned ogres better than me and they don't have my seniority."
I chuckled. "You're one in a million, Winger."
"I know. But don't let it get to you. I ain't ready to settle down. But you'll be first on my list when I am."
I don't often get caught without something to say. I did that time. I just stood there with my mouth open wondering if maybe she wasn't a whole lot sharper than I thought.
She said, "You get a line on that book and you need some help, get in touch. I'll go in for a split." She marched back toward Easterman's hovel.
Carla Lindo snickered. "You've made a conquest."
I bellowed. She took off, giggling. I took off after her. People stared. She didn't run too fast. I didn't either. The view was much too entertaining from second place.
This was more like life ought to be.
I caught her. She leaned against me, panting, making it plain she was willing to be caught. Hell. There we were in the middle of a street with nowhere to go.
That's the story of my life. Whenever I do win the prize, I can't collect. "Let's go home and try to figure out where the hell Easterman thinks that book is." I had a feeling he Was sure he knew where it was. Thinking that gave me an idea. "Any chance this uncle of yours would know what his boss is thinking?"
"No." She looked sad. "And if he did he wouldn't tell. He's really afraid he'd never get another job if Easterman throws him out. He's too old."
"Wonderful." We walked a ways, snuggling. I felt just a touch guilty doing that only a couple of blocks from Tinnie. Must be getting old. "You really still need the book? Chodo's got the Serpent. I'd say it's a safe bet she won't be back to haunt your dad"
She had to think about that awhile. Most of the way home, in fact. Then she said, "I could go home without it, I guess. But only if I was sure it'd been destroyed. My father would never forgive me if I didn't."
Well, hell.
34
I was still explaining to the Dead Man and getting hell for not having snatched Fido by the short hairs and twisted till he sang when Dean stuck his head in the room. "There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Garrett."
I'd heard the knock. I'd hoped it was for me. The Dead Man was way up on his high horse, really smoking. I couldn't get a word in to suggest he consider the facts of the situation. I guess I was supposed to have taken care of Fido's troops with my free hand while I was twisting and yanking and humming along.
The gentleman at the door wasn't. That was Dean's way of making a snide social observation. The guy was a mixed-breed kid of obscure antecedents sneaking up on adolescence. His outstanding feature was the most awful set of teeth I've ever seen. He could pass as an ugly ogre or uglier human if you needed a stand-in for one of those. He said, sneering, "You Garrett?" Like he'd heard of me and wasn't impressed.
"Last time I checked."
"Got a paper for you." He shoved something at me and lit out before he saw if I had a grip on it. I didn't, it fell onto the stoop, started tumbling on the breeze. I dashed out and hunted it down. Naturally, the door swung shut behind me. The latch fell and caught. I cussed it and kicked and pounded till Dean let me in. He didn't say anything, just smirked, "Go scrub a pot or something," I grumbled.
I took myself to my office, planted me in my chair. I asked Eleanor, "Why the hell don't I take that job at the brewery? There something wrong with me? I enjoy abuse?
I could get me a room right there in the plant. You and me. I could go tap a vat whenever the mood hit me. I could spend the rest of my life holed up there."
Eleanor didn't have any answers. She just gave me her enigmatic look. Nobody was on my side anymore. I uncrumpled the wad of paper.
It was a note, but it took me a while to decipher the primitive printing. Before it became a vehicle for deathless prose, it had been used to wrap fried fish or something.
"We got to talk. Sinkler. Statue. Soon. Sadler."
Interesting. I hadn't thought he could read or write. He wasn't a threat to anybody doing illuminated manuscripts but he was a match for any educated seven-year old. And he had all the words spelled right. Amazing.
Sadler. One of my many missing men. I couldn't turn him down.
But when to meet? He didn't state a time.
I didn't jump up and run over, though. Despite my interest. That sort of thing isn't done if you care to survive in this line. There are proprieties one observes when dealing with mysterious messages. Like sending some sucker... er, friend... to scout the terrain. "Hey, Dean." I didn't have anybody else left.
"I have dishes and laundry to do, Mr. Garrett. One extra body seems to triple the workload around here." This from the kitchen, shouted.
"Wait a minute."
"I don't have time to run any errands."
Who the hell is the mind reader around here? "How did you know .
"That's your favor-asking voice. Perhaps you could send Miss Ramada."
He sucked me in there. I wouldn't send Carla Lindo. And because I wouldn't, he'd know I hadn't been about to send him after rutabagas so we could have rutabaga pie tonight. In the following silence I could almost hear his brain creaking and squeaking as he mulled over how to get even for me even considering getting him involved in something chancy.
I caught the edge of a mental chuckle from across the hall. I was everybody's entertainment. I got up and plodded into the kitchen, drew me a beer. "You're going to stay on afte
r I get married, aren't you? We're going to need all the help we can get."
Dean's face brightened. He forgot all about me thinking of sending him out where the bad winds blow. He knew he wasn't going to get rid of one of his nieces but having me shackled to any woman was the next best thing. He was a born-again advocate of marriage, though he'd managed to evade martyrdom himself. "It would be an honor to serve Miss Tinnie, Mr. Garrett."
I felt almost bad, digging at him like that. Almost. "Not who I've got in mind."
"Miss Maya certainly is devoted to you, but don't you think she's a bit young for a man of your years?"
My years? He'd get no mercy now. "Not Maya. I'm thinking about asking Winger. You got to admit, she's more my type. We'd make a hell of a team out on those mean streets."
He looked scandalized, horrified, proceeded rapidly toward apoplectic. His face got red. He gulped for air. I poured it on. "I'm not really cut out for these sleek little beauties, Dean. I need somebody who can be a real partner. A pal. A real man's man everywhere but in the dark. I think Winger is the gal I've been waiting for. She's a take-charge type. She'd get things straightened out around here."
Garrett!
I must have overdone it. That squeak of horror came from up front.
I'm used to Dean taking everything too serious, to him taking forever to figure out he's being ribbed. But not the Dead Man. I finished up, "Don't you think?"
Dean just stood there with a pan dangling from one hand, his mouth open and his eyes crossed. He looked so forlorn I almost let up. If Carla Lindo hadn't been upstairs, I would have. Instead, I headed for the front door.
"I'd better take care of it right away."
35
Does anybody know who this guy Sinkler was? Does anybody care? Somebody put up a statue, didn't they?
Hell, maybe that ugly hunk of rock was there when they built the city. It looks worn out enough. If anybody does know, they haven't been talking. Whatever Sinkler did, it's a secret from me. Only the pigeons have much use for him. They perch on his upraised arms and tricorner hat and wait for primo targets to come by. Once upon a time he was covered with copper. Thieves took care of that ages before I was hatched.
Sinkler stands in the center of a small square where five streets butt heads, maybe half a mile northwest of my place. His main significance to me is he marks the frontier between your ordinarily dreadful city and the Bustee, which makes any part of town you care to name look like a suburb of heaven. The Bustee is where the real poor folks live. The Bustee is a quarter Chodo Contague wouldn't enter without an army, let alone wimps like the Watch. Hell, it's gotten so bad lately some of the landlords have gotten chicken to collect their rents.
Of course, a Chodo wouldn't bother going into the Bustee. People there are so poor they can't afford names. They survive by looking poorer than their neighbors.
Hell on earth. In the Marines I met guys out of there. They thought the Corps was great, despite the war. They got food to eat, clothes to wear, shoes on their feet, their life expectancies were better in the Cantard than at home, and they even got paid. So how come you rich boys are all pissing and moaning?
My folks never had a pot to pee in, but I'd grown up rich compared to those guys.
You'd think those people would bust out and go berserk. They never have. Like nobody is taking advantage of the fact that all the lords of the Hill are off to catch Glory Mooncalled. People have a sense of order and place and caste. Most figure if they're poor and dying of starvation, the gods want it that way. Probably they earned it in a former life.
It's a strange world. It's people are stranger.
What am I on about? What's this got to do with Sadler or the Book of Dreams? Not a damned thing. Just indulging the social observer within.
Speaking of Glory Mooncalled, there was a lot of talk. News had come north. People were telling perfect strangers. They'd grab you by the shirt to get you to hold still long enough so they could get the thrill of being first to tell you.
Mooncalled had engineered some apocalyptic collision between the massed Karentine and Venageti armies but lost most of his own making it happen. He was on the run. Or maybe not, depending on your informant. I hung out with Sinkler and absorbed stones. I'd hand them all to the Dead Man when opportunity arose. If ever it did.
I'd spent an hour perched on the pedestal where Sinkler stood, spreading his benevolence. I was beginning to suspect I'd been tricked. At best Sadler wasn't making it easy. Whatever he had in mind. If it was Sadler who sent that message.
It was. He showed eventually. He came creeping out looking around like he was into the loan sharks for half a million and hadn't made his vigorish in a year. I didn't recognize him till he was almost in my lap. He looked like a bum. He wasn't the lethal character I knew and loathed.
He settled beside me, all scrunched up so his size wouldn't give him away. He started throwing crumbs to the pigeons. Nobody would recognize him doing that.
"Where you been?"
"Underground. Had to do some thinking. Couldn't just keep on after I knew why Chodo wanted that book."
"Um?"
"Think what he could do with it."
"I have been. One reason I'm not fond of the idea of him glomming on to it."
"Me neither. Crask too."
"Crask?"
"Took him a little longer but he figured it out. He got a message to me. We met up and talked. We decided we got to do something. We want to bring you in."
His crumbs had brought in pigeons from miles around. They'd been climbing over each other. Now they exploded off the pavement. I glanced up, figuring a flight of thunder-lizards was coming in. But the birds had panicked because of one lone morCartha who appeared to be drunk. Sadler expressed my sentiments for me. "Out in the daytime now, too. Somebody ought to do something. Put a bounty on them, maybe. Give the kids something to do besides cut purses and roll drunks."
Yeah. Things just aren't the way they were in the old days. We had us some respect when we were kids. And so forth. I knew that routine by heart. "How come you're coming to me?"
"You just said you don't want Chodo getting that book."
"I don't want anybody to get it. Not him, not you, not Crask, not the Serpent, not Gnorst Gnorst or Fido Easterman. Hell, I wouldn't trust the old guy who keeps house for me with it. There isn't anybody alive who could resist the temptation."
He thought a minute. "Maybe. I can figure all I could do with it if I could read for shit."
"You can't?"
"My name. A few signs and things I seen all my life. I never got a chance to learn. In the army they didn't teach guys like they did you Marines."
"That was luck." That was something I'd brought away with me. I suspect, though, that I'd been more motivated than Sadler had. "But you sent a note."
"Crask wrote it. He picked up a little here and there. I been thinking we could get us a tutor after Chodo croaks and we take over. Only now it don't look like he plans on checking out, ever."
"So you're figuring on helping him along."
"Something like that."
"I don't do assassinations."
"You was in on the old kingpin biting the big one."
"He didn't bite it, it bit him. And you know how it went down. Morley Dotes set me up. If Saucerhead or I had known what was happening, we'd have been on the other side of town instead of helping Dotes lug his vampire."
"You help us, Garrett, you'd have friends could help you back."
"How? Chodo embarrasses me now, carrying on like I was his favorite kid."
Sadler was startled. Why? He grinned but didn't say. He had lousy teeth "Maybe so. But he sure as hell ain't never going to give you that book."
"Would you?"
"I can't read and Crask ain't much better. You figure we could hire somebody to read it for us? You figure we could have that thing and hang on song enough to learn how to read? Without everybody in the world coming after us?"
"You have a point. B
ut I have a problem." I don't do assassinations. I didn't have much use for Chodo but didn't want in on sending him to the big rackets in the sky. He hadn't earned it from me.
I didn't not want in badly enough to tell Sadler no, though. He might decide I had to be put to sleep so I wouldn't tell anybody his plan. "It don't look like I have too many options. How you going to do it?" It's called temporizing.
"Old Chodo, he's going to be partying tonight. Going to be distracted. His daughter is in town for the wingding he throws her every year."
"His what?"
"His daughter." Sadler laughed. "Not a lot of people know about her You'd like her. She's a looker. Must take after her old lady. I never saw the broad. Before my time, Chodo put her away himself ‘cause he caught her screwing the guy who was the boss back then. So what? History is history. Important thing is, he's throwing a birthday party tonight. Goes on like they have before, everybody will drink themselves blind and pass out. Me and Crask figure if we hit about three in the morning, it'll he a walk."
"Why do you need me, then?"
He grinned again He was doing more of that than in all the time I'd known him. "Garrett, you do that innocent so damned good. Man, I wish I could do that."
"Glad you get a kick out of it. Because I really don't know what the hell you're yapping about
"Sour today. Little chickie tell you no? Okay. You remember a while back we all had us a problem with that thing that thought it was a dead god? Wanted to bring itself back to life?
That wasn't all that long ago I didn't want to remember. That had been a hairy one. There'd been some sick people involved. Only good that came out of it was Maya. "I remember."
"No wisecrack? You must be getting old. So. One day you come out to the house. Dotes was with you. We gived you a little stone. An amulet, like. Eh? Maybe you thought we forgot to take it back"
I'd been hoping. That stone was hidden in the Dead Man's room with our most precious possessions. I'd expected to have to use it someday.
It was a magical gizmo that kept the thunder-lizards away, Chodo isn't fond of unannounced visitors. To discourage them, he has his grounds walled. Behind the walls he keeps whole herds of small, carnivorous thunder-lizards. They're more efficient than dogs, though he has packs of those, too. Thunder-lizards don't leave much evidence laying around. No telling how many valiant adventurers have scaled Chodo's wall only to become monster munchies.
