by Glen Cook
"You set me up."
"We thought it might be handy someday, having one on the outside."
"You guys are too damned smart for me
"That's a fact."
I doubted it, but he and Crask were a lot smarter than they let on. "So you need the stone to get through to the house, where everybody's going to be polluted. Then what?"
"Then Chodo expires in his sleep. Maybe because they're all drunk and not watching what they're doing, a couple thunder-lizards get inside and gobble up a few guys who been trying to take over me and Crask's spots."
"You think you can run the outfit?"
"Between us we can. It don't take a lot of running. We got the machine all oiled up. We go break somebody's head once a month or so, it keeps running smooth. We can handle that."
No doubt. "And I get the book, eh?"
"Soon as we find out where it is. That's a promise. And we'll find it. You know that."
They would if they wanted. But would they really deliver? That is, would they bother collecting it if it turned out to be in the clutches of a Fido Easterman or would they just point me in the right direction? "Three in the morning, eh?"
"I know you been keeping regular hours. But that's the way it is."
Another night without much steep. And no nap between now and then because I'd be trying to think of a way to slide out of being part of a gangland killing.
Morley would say this was an opportunity to show I wasn't under Chodo's thumb, forgetting it would give Crask and Sadler a rather ferocious hold on me Speaking of Morley Dotes, where was he? Now I needed a helpful hand. Not to mention Saucerhead. "Hey, you got any idea what's become of Dotes and Tharpe?"
"Nope. Still sulking?"
"Looks like." Something about his answer told me he really didn't know. Probably it was the fact that his tone said he didn't care
He asked, "You aren't thinking about bringing them guys with you?"
I caught the edge of something there. "No." This deserved some thought. "Just haven't seen them since this mess started. I'm concerned."
"Um. I been sitting still too long. Got to keep moving. Don't want to let anything catch up. We'll meet you at the milestone on the hill down the road from Chodo's place. Two o'clock. Bring that amulet stone."
"Sure."
Sadler went away, stooped like he was a hundred and ten. He did it pretty good. I wouldn't have recognized him from a distance.
I wondered what they would do if I didn't show.
He'd left his packet of crumbs. I fed the pigeons while I mused, till some jerk came up and pounced, wanting to tell me all the latest from the Cantard.
36
I hadn't gone a block when Winger fell into step beside me "Must be my lucky day."
She asked, "What was that about?" No sensitivity, Winger I wondered if she could be insulted.
"What's what about?"
"Your little cheek-to-cheek with Chodo's boy Sadler."
So she had an eye. His disguise hadn't fooled her. "You're too nosy, along with all your other charms."
"That's what they tell me." She gave me a big grin, followed with a comradely punch to the shoulder. Would I ever get used to her? Tell the truth, I hoped I didn't have to. There were moments when I wished the odds would hustle up and overtake her. "Bet I can figure it."
"Go right ahead." I did my surly best to lengthen my stride till she couldn't keep up. Lot of good it did me. She cruised along, had me huffing and puffing before I was halfway home. Big old country girl.
"How's this, Garrett? Sadler and his boyfriend figure out their hopes for moving up ain't worth squat if their boss grabs that book. Eh?" Big chuckle, up from the gut, like a Saucerhead Tharpe chuckle. "They put in their time, played it straight, figure they deserve better. Eh?"
"That you been following me all over?" I hadn't sensed her presence at all. Nor that other presence, if that hadn't been her. Scary, her that close and me not feeling a thing. And her in that outfit.
"Only since you left Easterman's hangout. Them guys want you to help them promote themselves, don't they?"
Was I giving myself away? Usually I do good hiding my thoughts. She laughed. "Yeah. I thought so. When they going to do it?"
"What're you babbling about? You been smoking weed?"
"Sure. My imagination's gone berserk. You ever seen that place that Chodo lives?"
"I've been there."
"Bet whoever cleans that out would be set for life."
"Be a short life if somebody tried."
"Them thunder-lizards? No problem. Your pals got some way to get past them. I ride in on their coattails, stay low while they're doing the dirty deed, grab a sackful of the best loot, hightail out in the confusion afterward. No big deal."
Incurable optimism. "When did you get out to look at the place?"
"I get around. You made a big deal about the guy being bad, I figured I had to check him out."
"You ever sleep?"
"I got a lot of energy. You do when you got ambition. You, you're an old box turtle. Never move unless you're starving and then only far enough to get yourself fed. You're never going to amount to anything, Garrett."
Was she taking lessons from Dean? "I manage. I have my own house. Not many can say that."
"I heard about how you made the money, too. People kept sticking pins in your ass till you did something. Then you fell in the shit and came up with a sack of gold."
It really was something like that. But I do think I gave value for money. I stomped up the steps to my front door. Winger invited herself along. I thought about tossing her back when I recalled my little joke on Dean. What the hell? It would do his old heart good to get to pounding. I knocked.
Dean opened up. He took a look at Winger. His face scrunched up but he didn't say anything. Winger said, "How you doing, Pops? You got any more of that good beer? I'm dry as a mummy." She gave him a friendly thump on the chest. He almost went down. He regained his balance, took off down the hall shaking his head.
Only after I shut the door behind her did I recall how things had gone last time Winger visited. I had to see the Dead Man and couldn't let her run amuck while I did. No telling what would leap into her pockets. "Come on. It's time you met my partner." I shouldn't use that word so close to him. He'd make a point of bringing it up.
My partner was as thrilled to meet her as he'd be to be the star at a witch burning. Carla Lindo could charm him some, but even she was a woman, and I'd not be forgiven for having her around so long. Winger was something else. Say she lacked Carla Lindo's grace.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"The Dead Man. My sidekick. Not as frisky as some, but he does his part. If you light a fire under him."
"That ain't no man, Garrett. That's some kind of thing. Gots it a snoot like a mammoth. Gods, it's ugly. Kind of ripe, too." Like I said, a real charmer. All the sensitivity of a dire wolf.
Garrett!
We must have caught him dozing. I expected him to get peckish sooner. "News from the Cantard, Old Bones. Your boy maybe weaseled out one more time. Got the big boys butting heads..." He wasn't going to buy.
This time you have gone too far! Why have you brought that creature into my home?
Oh-oh. He was piqued. He's very precise in his word choices. If he had used my house, he'd just have wanted to squabble to kill time. My home... Well, he was not pleased. He felt violated.
"So I can keep an eye on her. Wouldn't want some unscrupulous rake making a move on her before."
Stuff that nonsense. Play that game with Dean if you like, but I know you better.
"Had you going there, didn't I?"
Do what needs doing, then get her out.
Hey! He was willing to work to get shut of her. All right. I'd finally found a way to twist his arm.
Garrett!
"Right."
Winger looked at me like I was foaming at the mouth.
The Dead Man wasn't giving her his half of the conversation. She
asked, "You talking to that thing?"
"Sure. He's just dead, he isn't gone."
Report, Garrett! Get on with it.
I did. Every little detail.
I suggest you play along for the time being. He let Winger catch that. She jumped about a foot, grabbed the sides of her head. Her eyes got big as she wondered if he could look inside there as easily as he put thoughts in. I think she would've attacked him if she hadn't been so shocked.
"Play along. Right. My sharpest skill. And when the crunch comes, how do I get out of committing murder? Or at least becoming a heavyweight accessory to same?"
The Dead Man sent the mental equivalent of a shrug. You will manage. You always do. Tell me more about what has happened in the Cantard.
Back to normal. He had his bluff in again. He thought. "How about you suggest a way I can keep them from killing me once I've helped with the dirty work."
Really, Garrett. Your stubborn refusal to think for yourself is becoming a burden. He paused. Since you have developed a fondness for this Winger person, and she has the intent anyway, why not take her along? She has shown herself capable of handling one of them already. I foresee an unbeatable team here.
Did I walk into that one? I sprinted. And did all the setup work, too. I couldn't raise a fuss without Winger maybe getting upset and busting me upside the head.
A hint of mental snicker, private, for me alone. The devil.
It wasn't my day. It wasn't my week. If I went along to help ice Chodo, it might not be my lifetime.
"Sounds good to me," Winger said. It would. She'd already invited herself along once. Now she had the Dead Man's blessing.
I noted that she had caught her balance fast. The Dead Man had become old news. She watched me expectantly, like she wondered how much originality I'd show trying to weasel out.
"I should've been a clown," I grumbled. "I'm everybody's entertainment anyhow."
The Dead Man's laughter was silent but evil.
Winger's wasn't silent.
I heard a sound, glanced back. Dean was in the doorway. Grinning.
My get-even list was getting too long to keep in my head. I was going to have to get me a diary to keep track.
37
I don't know why I left the house after I got rid of Winger. I guess because the Dead Man was riding me with spurs on, digging them in deep. My joke about Winger had turned on me. I didn't dare go to the kitchen without Dean ragging me, too.
Out seemed like a good idea at the time. Especially when the Dead Man said he'd like to know what Gnorst was up to now. I grabbed the out.
So I went to see the sneeze man. Actually, I just left a message at the door. Gnorst wasn't receiving. I suspect he especially wasn't receiving people with connections to old pals.
I headed for home. I got the notion I could root Carla Lindo out of her room and weep on her shoulder. She hadn't ridden me. She'd been especially understanding, in fact. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure we were going to become great friends real soon now. I started getting high on anticipation.
You may have noticed that things have a way of catching up with me whenever I feel too positive. The god who hands out the towels in the heavenly loo has a sideline. Messing with Garrett. He's such a puny, useless god they couldn't find anything better for him to do. But he's really good at messing with me. He works at it so hard I think he's bucking for a promotion.
I was a block from my place, trotting toward Macunado on Wizard's Reach. I stopped suddenly.
They came out of nowhere. They closed in carefully.
There were six of them. I didn't know them but they had to be Chodo's boys.
The street cleared magically. I struck some martial-arts poses, made me some nifty yells. That just kept them from getting overconfident.
They were good. They would be, of course. Otherwise they wouldn't be on the first team. And they'd been briefed on what to expect, which was to expect the unexpected. I've been known to yank tricks out of my sleeves.
Today I was fresh out, not counting the old-fashioned lie. I got one guy to turn his head by yelling, "Hey! Morley! Just in time for the party."
That was the only good Morley did me all week, and he wasn't even there. I laid that guy out with a flying kick and just kept going for about six feet. Then I was out of running room. A building jumped in my way.
They closed in. I hauled out my stick. We mixed it up. I dinged two pretty good. I wasn't worrying about how bad I hurt them. They apparently wanted me alive. At least a little. Nobody bothered explaining anything to anyone
The scuffle lasted longer than they planned. Our dancing and prancing brought some of the bolder neighbors back outside, especially the kids. Some were kids I knew. Did they lend a hand? Did they run to the house to tell somebody I was in trouble? They did not.
These are the little people, the ones I thought needed a champion when I outfitted myself with creaky idealistic armor. Sometimes people make it damned hard to care about people. Sometimes they do their damnedest to make it seem they deserve whatever they get.
Oh, well. I made a showing till somebody got my stick away from me and tried it out on my skull.
A black pool opened at my feet.
I didn't dive in. I sort of belly-flopped and floated there with my nose above the surface. I vaguely recall sagging between two thugs while a third summoned a waiting coach. The coach came. My buddies helped me dive inside. Somebody did a drumroll on my noggin, then they dumped their injured in on top of me.
My head stuck out of the pile. The guy with my stick tapped it every little bit, like he was trying out different patterns of lumps. I would fix him with some patterns of his own if I got the chance.
Even my skull has limits. I went off to dreamland.
The sandman isn't all bad. Before we left the city, before I wakened with an all-time headache, he got rid of the three guys piled on top of me. Hell. I had it whipped. I outnumbered them now.
The headache was a memorable effort. At least I remembered it better than any I had before. I'd been thumped hard enough to generate a small concussion. I'd puked all over the coach floor. Recently, too. The guy with the stick was still cussing me. His partner, riding with his back to the horses, observed, "You bopped him too many times. What you expect?"
"Hell, we'll probably just end up croaking him. Why'd he got to go make a mess?"
"Inconsiderate of him."
"Sure as hell was. I'm gonna gotta clean it up. I always get stuck with the shit jobs."
A philosopher and a complainer. The philosopher said, "You don't plan to go messy when your turn comes? You just going to take the hit and fold politely?"
"I ain't going." Sullenly.
The philosopher chuckled. How could a guy with his realist's outlook stay in the niche he'd chosen? He said, "Least we know he ain't dead yet. I never saw a stiff puke. I was worried Chodo'd have a litter if we delivered a deader."
"Why? He's gonna be dead anyway."
"We don't know that. He didn't say that."
"Shit."
"All right. There ain't much doubt. But Chodo wants to talk to him first. To apologize, maybe. They used to be buddies or something."
Or something. I'd never counted on Chodo's gratitude being bottomless. I wondered if there was a connection between this and my chat with Sadler.
"Shit. He's crazy," the complainer said.
"Sure. And he's the kingpin, too."
Grumble grumble. Lots of use of that favorite four-letter word. I wondered if they knew I was awake. I wondered if I was being snookered.
The philosopher began rhapsodizing on the passing scenery. A nature lover. Some city boys get that way in the country. A plain old willow is a cause for wonder. His observations suggested we were on the road to Chodo's place already. We were in some wooded hills. That meant we weren't more than a mile or two from the place I was supposed to meet Crask and Sadler later. The woods would give way to vineyards on the north slopes, though there wou
ld still be patches of trees alongside the road. If I wanted to stay healthy, I ought to do something before we reached the vineyards. There wasn't cover enough to make an escape over there.
Only my body didn't feel like doing anything. Maybe next week. Maybe after the swelling went down.
It's real hard to find much ambition after you've had your noggin used for a drum.
The way the horses were straining I guessed we were climbing Hornet Nest Hill, a long steep climb. Near the top the road makes a backward S-curve, climbing what amounts to a bluff, before it leaps the ridge and heads for the end of the woods. Perfect. I could dive out the door and over the side, roll down the hill, and disappear before these thugs could get their mouths closed. I told my body to get ready.
My body said go to hell. It wasn't moving. Moving hurt.
The carriage stopped.
The complainer opened a door, asked, "What's up?"
"I don't know," the driver told him. "The horses don't want to go any farther
Say what? Me and horses don't get along. If there's any way for them to mess me around, they will. I couldn't picture them not galloping all the way to carry me to my execution. Unless they wanted to mess with me some themselves before letting Chodo have me... Hell. I couldn't keep that game going. I felt too lousy.
The philosopher edged the complainer out of the doorway. "Hang on, Mace. Don't push them. Maybe they know something." He got out of the coach. His buddy followed him. "Could be that shoemaker's bunch. Was I to set an ambush, I'd put it right up there, just before the top. Where the cut is, with the drop on the right. Leaves you nowhere to duck."
They debated. The sullen one tossed in two sceats worth of let's get rolling, there ain't no damned ambush. The philosopher suggested, "Why don't you go up and look?"
They argued. The complainer sneered. "Candyass! I'll show you." I heard his feet crunch the road surface. He sent opinions back meant to keep the curl in the philosopher's hair.
