Sweet Silver Blues gf-1

by Glen Cook

  "Can't hang a guy for that," I said, demonstrating my vast tolerance.

  "Lucky me."

  As proven by the prevalence of accidents like Morley and his buddies, cross-race contact is a sport too popular for us to go lynching the players.

  Morley went on,"He does own the house, but he's never there because he's never in the city."

  "But there's more."

  "Oh?"

  "You have a gleam in your eye."

  "Probably because I finally found a decent place to eat and got a wholesome meal inside me."

  "No. It's more an ‘I know something you don't' kind of gleam."

  "You've got me." But he sat on it till I threatened to take him for a boat ride.

  "All right. Yesterday somebody decided we were too snoopy and deserved a thumping. Had those guys on to us before we started. We bumped a sore tooth somewhere. Unless our friends from the striped-sail ship were behind it."

  "Or Vasco is in town without us knowing it," I added.

  "That too. But I thought I'd start with the folks we'd talked to. The down-lane neighbor and Old Witch: no chance. The guy at Zeck Zack's: surly as hell, no help, maybe, but I couldn't be sure. I bribed the vermin to keep an eye on the place. So?"

  "Come on! You went to the church?"

  "I asked around before I dropped in. You remember what you said about the gold and silver?"

  "Yes."

  "That church was inside Venageti lines for thirteen days. Afterward, the Sair was praised for talking the Venageti into sparing the church. Then he and his flock talked the army into releasing a hundred twenty prisoners of war as a counter gesture. Everyone thinks he's a great man, full of compassion for the enemies of his church."

  I already knew, but he wanted me to ask. So I did. "But you know different, eh? What do you know, Morley?"

  "A third of those soldiers he sent home, all supposedly common infantry, were Venageti officers who could have been ransomed or put to the question. They surrendered at the church after exchanging uniforms with dead soldiers. At the order of the chief Venageti undercover agent in Full Harbor."

  "The Sair?"

  "You got it."

  "You go on like you were there."

  "I talked to somebody who was."

  I raised an eyebrow. I do that very well. It's one of my outstanding talents.

  "I took Father Mike for a walk. After I assured him that I have no interest in politics, and would not use what he told me against him, he told me about it. He's the old boy's helper."

  "Are all the priests in on it?"

  "Just the two. The old boy sent the others to safety when the Venageti began closing in. I guess you can figure why."

  "Fewer witnesses. So the old boy sicced the dogs on us because he thought we might dig something up on him."

  "No."

  "Wait a minute... "

  "Father Mike was very positive."

  "Who, then, if you eliminate everybody?"

  "Always room for another player in the game. I didn't get to talk to the hairy priest. Nor to anybody the others mentioned us to, and everybody admitted they did, though they couldn't remember to who—except that crazy witch. And at her place we had the vermin listening in. There's no telling who they reported to."

  "Yeah." This needed some thought. "You've still got the gleam in your eye. You must have gotten around like a bolt of lightning."

  "Us breeds can move when we need to. Hybrid vigor."

  "So?"

  "Your friend Kronk died at that church the day it was liberated. Father Mike was vague about details. Kronk was one of the dozen partisans the Venageti took prisoner. Father Mike didn't think he knew about him and the Sair, but he could have. He doesn't think Kronk was killed while the Venageti were still in control. The body wasn't found till six hours after the army moved in. But two others died at the same time. I have the names of the surviving prisoners if you decide to go howling off down that path."

  "That's not what I'm here to do. But give me the names and we'll keep them in mind. In case we keep stumbling over some of them. I see the gleam has gone out. Does that mean the well is dry?"

  "Yes. What now?"

  "Now I write a long letter to Major Kronk for another major's benefit, while all this information simmers."

  "Marinates, you mean. I'm sure you'll soak your brain in a few gallons of beer."

  I did not feel up to repartee. Too much to digest. "Tomorrow morning I see my major. Then we do a few more interviews. If we don't strike something hot, the day after we're off into the Cantard."

  "Maybe we can bribe a priest to pray for a break," Morley said. "I'm here, but I'm not thrilled about going out there."

  "And I am?"

  27

  There were breaks. They were mixed to say the least.

  I went to see my major right after I breakfasted, three eggs gently fried in the grease of a half pound of bacon slowly cooked to a crisp, a mountain of griddle cakes on the side, heavily buttered and buried in strawberry jam. Morley was despondent. He began holding a wake for my health.

  He went out when I did, on the trail of roots and berries, barks and grasses, that would hold still long enough for him to prey upon them.

  The triplets headed for the waterfront to wait for their relatives. I sincerely hoped they had none anywhere. I figured my luck was running so hot a platoon would descend on me like orphans left on the church steps.

  I didn't have to wait long or put up with much before I was told I could see the major. My outlook began to improve.

  The major took my message after a rudimentary greeting, checked it for messages to the Venageti War Council, said,"This looks acceptable. It will go out in the next courier pouch headed the right direction."

  "Not going to test for invisible ink?"

  He gave me one of those good hard stares they practice in front of the mirror when they're shavetails. I let it slide off. "You're cocky today, aren't you?"

  "It's a personality defect. I spent five years on the inside of the service. It's hard to take it seriously when it doesn't have a noose around your neck."

  "Do you really care if your letter gets delivered?"

  I didn't tell him I never expected it to get beyond the nearest trash receptacle. He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, "Don't bother us anymore. We'll let you know when there's an answer." I couldn't tell him I'd brought it in only for form's sake.

  But he could figure that out for himself.

  "I see that you don't care about this letter. Someone on the staff obviously took pity and told you. For a suitably warm expression of gratitude."

  I remained silent.

  "I see," he said. "I thought so. You needn't be surprised. Not only can a few of us think, there're some—mostly majors and colonels—who can figure out how to lace their own boots in the morning. But I won't ask you about it if you'll answer a few questions about something else."

  "Why?"

  "Say I'm looking for a fresh viewpoint on something."

  "Shoot."

  "I'll start with a list of names. When you hear one you know, tell me what you know about him or her."

  "That's all?"

  "For now."

  "Go ahead."

  I scored three and a half out of maybe thirty. One was Zeck Zack. One was a Venageti commander my outfit had fought in the islands who later participated in the attack upon Full Harbor. The third was a dwarfish sharpie who had been executed for misappropriation, fraud, and profiteering, which basically meant he had gotten caught stealing from the army without paying kickbacks to the right officers. The half was a name I knew I had heard somewhere sometime but could not remember where or when or in connection with what. As far as I knew Zeck Zack was the only character there who was still alive.

  I lied about recognizing one more name, that of a man who had been imprisoned with Klaus Kronk the day he had died.

  "Is that all?" I could see no connection among the names on the list. Maybe there w
as none, really. Or maybe it would have been obvious to someone who knew who the hell all those people were.

  "Just about. You seem to be what you pretend. You've been doing a lot of poking around. Have you stumbled across anything that might interest a man in my position?" He assumed I knew what his position was. I did, now.

  "No," I lied. I had figured to do my patriotic duty by reporting the Sair. Sometime after arriving I had made an unconscious decision to pass.

  "Would you consider doing a little work for Karenta while you're doing the job you have already? Wouldn't cost you much time and shouldn't take you out of your way."

  "No."

  He looked like he wanted to argue.

  "I did my so-called patriotic chore," I declared. "Five years of my life making sure their gang of thieves didn't get one up on our gang of thieves. There is no way I'm getting onto that treadmill again."

  A thought occurred to me. That happens occasionally. He saw it spark.

  "Yes?"

  "I might work a trade." I had the priest to sell. "If you tell me where to find Kayean Kronk."

  "I can't."

  "Oh?"

  "I never heard of her till you came in yesterday. She's no one who's ever interested this office."

  "I guess that's that, then. Thanks for your time and courtesy." I headed for the door.

  "Garrett. Drop by when you get back from Fort... " He glared at me like I'd almost tricked him into revealing the Emperor's secret name. "Drop by when you get back. We may have a story or two to swap."

  "All right."

  I got out before he decided to look at me a little closer.

  It was too nice a morning just to head for the inn to pick up Morley so we could visit the civil city hall again. It seemed a day made for lying around sniffing a clean seabreeze. I headed for the waterfront.

  The triplets probably needed help watching for their relatives, anyway. They would be so hard to spot.

  I found them doing exactly what I planned to do, sprawled in the sun atop a mountain of army grain sacks awaiting transport to the forts in the Cantard. I'd never have spotted them from the harbor side. I clambered up with a cold keg under my arm. I sent it around once before I asked, "How's it going, Dojango? Any sign of the family?"

  The keg was half weight by the time it got back to me. I took a good long guzzle before I passed it on.

  "Actually, Garrett, your timing is perfect. Come here." He drew on the keg before he moved.

  They had shifted a few sacks so they formed a parapet of sorts. They could watch from concealment yet could claim the shifted sacks made pillows for the grolls if anybody asked.

  "Some of your cousins, I think."

  "Actually."

  A ragged old coaster lay about thirty feet in the lee of the only pier space available. Lee was the very operative word. The ship was taking the breeze on her beam. About fifty guys were pulling on hawsers, trying to haul her in.

  She was not coming.

  In fact, she was winning the tug-of-war.

  "Why don't I go trade this empty in on a full keg?" Dojango asked.

  "Yeah. Why don't you?" I gave him some money.

  A guy could work up a powerful thirst watching that much grunting and cursing and sweating and yelling for help.

  The ship was interesting because Vasco, Quinn, and some other old friends were stomping around her deck in a storm of frustration.

  I thought about canceling Fort Caprice and just watching them instead, on the chance they would lead me to Kayean. I looked at that from a couple of angles, then rejected it. They had not come to Full Harbor to see Kayean. They had come to keep me from seeing her.

  I studied the striped-sail for a while. It seemed deserted except for the short and wide thing, who was napping in the shade cast by the low sterncastle. Dojango arrived with the keg. We soon had another dead soldier. Dojango ventured the suggestion that we send for reinforcements again.

  "I sadly fear we have to go to work. Do your cousins know your brothers?"

  "Not by sight, actually. But they must know you're traveling with grolls."

  "They aren't the only grolls in the world." I stripped down while I explained what I wanted to do.

  "I think it's insane, actually. But it might be fun to watch." His part would be to observe and guard the valuables.

  "Tell the boys."

  Below, a gust caught the coaster. She heeled. Men yelled. Four or five went into the water.

  "They know what to do."

  "Let's go." I tumbled down the front of the pile. Doris and Marsha tumbled after me, grinning their great goofy groll grins. They trotted to the ends of a couple of hawsers and started heaving. I grabbed another. I wish I could say my strength made the difference.

  That coaster fought like a granddaddy trout, but in she came.

  Vasco and Quinn must have gotten my stage directions. They spotted me as the dock hands started swarming around Doris and Marsha, trying to slap their backs. Somebody yelled. I faked big eyes as men came leaping onto the wharf.

  I lit out.

  I did not see Dojango atop the sack pile as I raced past. That meant nothing had changed at the striped-sail ship. I whipped that way with a herd of boots pounding behind me.

  Hard right turn onto the yacht's gangway.

  Short, Wide, and Hideous opened his eyes and hit his feet. I made the deck before he could head me off. Then he spotted the pack behind me.

  He stopped.

  I did not. I pulled straight ahead and dove over the far rail. I groaned on the way down.

  The water was so slimy I'd be lucky if I didn't bounce.

  We joined up again back at the inn. After I ordered a keg to celebrate, Dojango told me what he had seen.

  Vasco, Quinn, and four others had chased me. That I did not need to be told. They had started up the gangway when they had spotted Short, Wide, and Hideous. They had stopped dead. Then they had scattered like roaches surprised by a sudden light.

  "They didn't even go back to their boat for their stuff," Dojango said. He laughed and drew himself another beer.

  "What about the guy on the yacht? What did he do?"

  "He ran inside."

  "And?"

  "And nothing, actually. Nothing happened at all."

  "Something will," I prophesied.

  We killed the keg while we waited for Morley.

  28

  Morley was a long time showing. When he did, I knew he had not been running from anything—unless it was himself. He wasn't scared of anything else.

  "A little trot to settle your meal?" I asked.

  "Started out that way. I came back here, you weren't in yet, so I thought I'd get in five or ten miles while I had time. I've gotten out of training since we left TunFaire."

  He seemed a little pallid for Morley Dotes. "Something happen? You get yourself into trouble?"

  "Not exactly. Let me catch my breath. Tell me what you did."

  I did. He seemed mildly amused by my gambit on the waterfront.

  "Your turn," I said.

  "First a conclusion, then two sets of facts which may support it. My conclusion is, you're in over your head, Garrett. We keep cutting the trails of people with big clout. And they're starting to notice."

  "And the facts?"

  "My run took me out near the Narrows. I decided to see if my tribute to the vermin had earned me anything but scorn. Wonder of wonders, they had something. Zeck Zack is back in town. He arrived early this morning. The comings and goings started an hour later. I gave them a bonus and told them to keep an eye on him."

  "One set of facts, Morley. How about the set that has you spooked?"

  He did not argue, which was proof enough that he was nervous.

  "I decided to drop in on Father Rhyne. I figured I'd go in the back way so I wouldn't inconvenience anybody, what with a rowdy service going on in the main hall."

  He was stalling getting to the point, which meant it was something that did not please him.
r />   "He came up dead, Garrett. Sitting at his writing table, dead as a man can get, still not cold."

  "Killed?"

  "I don't know. I didn't see any wounds, but that leaves plenty of room."

  Plenty of room for sorcery or poison.

  "He didn't seem like the kind of guy who drops dead coincidentally after people come around asking questions that only he can answer. Especially when you consider the fact that his boss and Father Mike have turned ghost."

  He meant they had vanished. "When?"

  "Sometime after breakfast. The prune was at first services. Father Mike was at breakfast. When I mentioned to somebody that Father Rhyne didn't look too healthy neither of them could be found. Nobody saw them leave."

  "Maybe they decided they couldn't trust you not to be a tattletale."

  "Maybe. Father Rhyne did try to leave a message, however he died. I don't know who he meant it for, but since you're looking for a married woman, I grabbed it."

  He gave me a wad of paper. I smoothed it out on the table. There were just two words on it, printed big in a very shaky hand.

  "Blood wedding? What does that mean?"

  "I don't know, Garrett. I do know this. Rhyne was number four. They're dropping like flies around us."

  He was right. Four deaths. Three of them on the manslaughter level: the burglar in Denny's apartment, Uncle Lester, and the thug from the alley beside the civil city hall. And now one unexplained. "It does seem that way."

  "Any change in plans?"

  "No. Let's go see the boys at city hall."

  Inspired by a silver memory-jostle, the guard outside frankly admitted that he had been paid to disappear for an hour. He gave us an excellent description of an ordinary guy who could have been right there on the street with us. I suspected he was the guy who had gotten away in the alley.

  The clerk was not pleased to see us. In fact, he tried to take a sudden, unauthorized leave of absence. Morley was on him like a wolf on a rabbit. We took the committee into the records room to confer.

  He claimed almost as much ignorance as the guard. But he said they had come to see him again awhile after we busted up the ambush to ask about us. The clerk said they talked it over and decided we were not the people they had expected, confederates of a man who had been there earlier. They had jumped the wrong people.