Gilded Latten Bones gp-13

by Glen Cook

  "That's the point. I'm not doing fairy-tale fairies. They won't be ethereal. They'll be like elves, only from a realm at right angles to our own. Tinnie's coloring and attributes, her stature and sharp attitude, even her freckles, make her the perfect Mathilde."

  "Will this go on at the World?"

  "Main stage, expanded. This will be my biggest hit yet, Garrett."

  "Tinnie doesn't get along with Heather Soames."

  "I'll make them get along."

  I liked his confidence.

  He said, "Tinnie is Mathilde but I will send her packing if she behaves the way she did before. You don't need to tell her that. I'll make it clear at first rehearsal."

  Interesting times were headed our way. "Look at you getting all self-confident and assertive. What happened to the Remora we knew and loathed?"

  "He found his passion. Are you going to pitch Mathilde to Tinnie?"

  "No."

  "What? Why not?"

  "I'm committed to my own passion. That will keep me here with my injured friend. If you want Tinnie, head on over to Factory Slide. Or, better, catch her at work. Go in the afternoon. She'll be sick of accounting. I can give you a letter to get you past the guards."

  "If that's the way it has to be. Would you be interested in a small role? I need a banged up hulk to play the faithful old soldier. ."

  "Jon, you need to come at me some other time. I was involved in an important discussion with Sarge when you horned in."

  The playwright goggled. He had lost his appreciation of direct talk.

  People did talk to the Remora that way, back when. They talked to Pilsuds Vilchik that way in the once upon a time. They didn't talk that way to the town's hottest celebrity today.

  Sarge volunteered, "I'd make a good fait'ful old sojer what's been banged aroun' enough ta have some character."

  And there was another reason Jon Salvation felt free to unleash his inner dick. People put up with it because he might cast them in a play.

  42

  Salvation did not get in a huff. He just went away, no doubt deleting my name from his roll of potential character actors.

  "Sorry about that, Sarge."

  "He ain't timid no more."

  "No. Unless he was on the street."

  "No shit dere. Dat attitude don't cut no nutin' wit' da brunos. If dey was any dat da Director didn't already ship off ta da work camps."

  An interesting notion, that law and order had become so ubiquitous that smarmy little peckerwoods like the Remora could turn snotty and not have to pay with bloody head wounds.

  What did Deal Relway think of that unintended consequence?

  "Anyway, you were telling me that Morley's country fiancee might be in town hoping to dip into his pockets."

  "Dat's just one t'eory."

  "Are there others?"

  "Probably. You gotta ast da Capa. Me, I don't t'ink so fast so I jes' follow along."

  "I see. Don't put yourself down. You have a knack for doing the right thing at the right time." He saved my life, once upon a time. "Did you hold back anything from the Capa? Something you guys thought might upset her?"

  A downside to being a sociopath, like Belinda, was that people walked on eggshells around you. They didn't tell you things that might upset you. You ended up operating in a bad news vacuum.

  Belinda was smart enough to see that. She created ways around the standard distortion. But those ways would not work inside a closed and loyal crew like Morley's. Belinda might suspect that they were blowing smoke and leaving things unsaid but that would be outside her imperial reach.

  "Any other time, Garrett, an' you'd be right. If Morley survivin' wasn't involved, we'd mix up a whole stew a half-troots an' misleadin' troots. We wouldn't let her know what was really what. But dis time it was himself as da table stakes. Dis time we had ta tell her true."

  The dialect had weakened. I understood every word.

  Morley's crew would not hold out on Belinda while she could do their friend and employer some good.

  They would turn loose nothing that didn't bear on the immediate problem, though.

  "You didn't hold anything back?"

  "Nut'in'! We gotta get our Morley back-which I guess we sorta got, if'n he ever come outta dat coma-an' we gotta have a shot at fixin' whoever done whatever got did ta him. We figure you an' da Capa tagether are gonna see the blood spread where dat's gonna do da mos' good. An' I t'ink I better get on back down ta da place, now. Dey're gonna need me. Dis is da busiest night a da week."

  "I wouldn't want to interfere with business. Get going. If something turns up that might interest me don't waste time letting me know."

  Sarge nodded. "He's gonna make it, ain't he, Garrett?"

  "I'm sure. Tell the others. Morley will be back real soon."

  "T'anks, Garrett." He stared at me for several seconds. "Maybe you ain't da complete sponge we always t'ought."

  Sarge, Puddle, and others of Morley's bunch had, back when, treated me like I carried a social disease. They had kept it in check only when Dotes was there, watching.

  "I'm pleased to hear you say that, Sarge. It means a lot. Now go back to work and make Morley rich."

  As Sarge headed out I realized that I could not remember what Morley called the place he had opened across from the World. What was wrong with me? Tinnie and I had eaten there several times.

  43

  A quick census revealed that the Garrett household had shed most of its visitors. Some, when the Dead Man showed me the roster, were folks I'd missed. Some I didn't know. "Tinnie never showed?" I asked Singe.

  "Which means nothing," she told me. "She was informed that important matters would be discussed but this is the middle of the workweek and Amalgamated still suffers from explosively good sales. Note that the people who were here mostly aren't the kind who have ordinary jobs."

  Yeah. True. She made it sound plausible.

  Those who were still around sure fit. Saucerhead Tharpe, maybe passed out drunk, looked pathetic snoring in a corner. Jon Salvation was bold enough to use Singe's pens and inks to scribble in the bound book of blank pages he carried everywhere.

  Then Salvation was up and reminding me, "You said you'd write a letter that would get me in to see Tinnie."

  "So I did. Help me swing this desk around and I'll get on it."

  I created a three-hundred-word masterpiece that would get Tinnie salivating over the prospects of what Jon Salvation might want to discuss. I kept me out of it. I said nothing about where I was, what I was doing, why, or even my state of health. She could squeeze that out of the Remora if she wanted to know. And he could let me know how interested she was.

  If it went right I might try to sneak away for a peace conference.

  And then we were down to Saucerhead, a few ratpeople, and the folks over there with the Dead Man. I complained, "I never got a chance to talk to John Stretch. I wanted to catch up on his adventures."

  Singe said, "He's doing fine. Outstanding, considering he's still the boss of bosses in the rat underworld. After all these years."

  "That would be about three, wouldn't it?"

  "Only one as boss of bosses. The first of his kind, really."

  She glowed with pride. Her brother was the undisputed overlord of crime amongst her species.

  Her look dared me to disrespect her pride.

  I'd never do that. Not to Singe.

  Garrett. Please join us.

  Though I did not hear Singe mentioned I was not alone in migrating.

  It seemed there wasn't just one corpse in the cold room when Singe and I arrived. Nobody moved. You'd expect that from Old Bones but Kolda, Playmate, or the healer should have been doing something.

  Singe went straight to Playmate, who, definitely, looked dead.

  I had Mr. Kolda give him a measure of the medication meant for Mr. Dotes. We will put a bad thing to good use by keeping Playmate under while I battle the monster devouring him from inside. Singe, engage one of the Kerr tribe to take
a message to the brother-in-law managing Playmate's stable. He will need to understand what is happening. Do not give too much detail. Do not suggest that we have any great hope. The brother-in-law will, almost certainly, find the prospect of Playmate's recovery disheartening.

  From what I knew about Playmate's brother-in-law, I reckoned the Dead Man was spot on. Play's sister was his only heir. The idiot husband probably had a buyer for the stable lined up.

  "So what are you actually doing?"

  I am working inside Playmate's brain to shut down the pain that distracts him from handling the rest of his life. In parallel, I have been scanning Mr. Kolda's herbal knowledge in hopes of discovering a specific for Playmate's cancer.

  "Any luck?"

  Possibly. But it comes from the mind of Brother Hoto instead. He knows of a reptile venom that attacks tumor tissue vigorously.

  "Where do we find the poison lizard?"

  It is a tropical species. A flashily-clad critter something like an iguana with saber teeth appeared in my mind.

  "I remember this guy from the islands. A bad actor. You went down if he breathed on you."

  As always, you exaggerate where there are no witnesses to contradict you. Nonetheless, the venom is potent. A few of the lizards may live in TunFaire.

  Somebody in Kolda's racket had a few hidden away. Or maybe the Children of the Light, selling miracles to the wealthy.

  They are in the exotic reptile house of the Royal Zoo.

  Oh. Yeah. The royals did collect odd critters. One of the princesses had a special building for moths and butterflies. None of us low-life types ever get to see that stuff.

  You have a connection with a prince.

  I did. Sort of.

  Meantime, I am mining Brother Hoto for anything useful in developing an understanding of the who, what, and why behind Mr. Dotes' misadventure.

  "Why not just pluck that out of Morley's head?"

  Those fruits are not there to pluck. It could be that he was hit with a rock from the sky and will not be able to tell us anything when he does wake up.

  "But he will wake up?"

  Within two days. Possibly sooner. Assuming Brother Hoto knows his poison. You may go ahead now, Singe.

  He had given Singe work without consulting me.

  I was getting hungry. I hadn't seen Dean for some time.

  You now know what I know. There is nothing you can contribute here. Check on Mr. Dotes. Go to the kitchen. Get some rest.

  I took a good look at Playmate before I went. The man was one of my oldest and most reliable friends. We had helped one another countless times. He grumbled when I asked for something but never failed to come through. I would do what I could to be a good friend in turn.

  Morley was sleeping normally. There was more color in his face. Dollar Dan told me he had said something, one word, but nothing the guards had understood.

  Headway!

  I found Dean in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, leaning on his folded arms, asleep.

  I downed the last of a collection of tasteless leftovers. I had caught something from one of our visitors, several of who had had the sniffles.

  Whatever it was, wherever I got it, it was aggressive. I felt weak as I headed upstairs. At that point I thought it was because I'd put away too much beer. Half dreaming already, I caught the edge of the Dead Man's concerned thoughts. He was worried about something. It was a generalized worry, about all of us, not targeted.

  44

  I wakened in the middle of the night. A cool breeze came in the open window. The Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light sat cross-legged on the corner of the foot of my bed, on the side where my feet weren't. I was stretched out kitty-corner from top left to lower right. She looked far more the fairy princess than Tinnie ever could.

  She looked like the queen of temptation, too.

  She had turned the lamp up. There was light enough to reveal her flash of a smile when she saw that treacherous flicker in my eyes. She could have had me then. If she'd wanted.

  But I sneezed.

  She thought that was funny.

  "I can't help it." I prayed she wouldn't turn on the heat.

  I had seen her reduce an entire construction crew to drooling idiocy, not even doing it deliberately.

  I'm a committed man. I told myself. I can't jump into these things. .

  I sneezed again.

  She produced a dainty handkerchief.

  "Thanks." My head was full of stuff.

  The bright side was, a man sneezing and clearing his head doesn't make that interesting a target for a vamp.

  Still, I asked, "How about you get to business before I go crazy?"

  Ghost of a smile. She was pleased. She had reassured herself. She was desirable.

  She had serious issues but none connected to what we were into today.

  "Business. Yes. I need that, too." She shut her eyes and made a conscious effort to become asexual. She wasn't entirely successful but it did get easier to consider something beyond the possibilities of our situation.

  I blew my nose again.

  She told me, "I visited Prince Rupert today."

  "You sound glum. It didn't go well?"

  "It went better than I expected, actually. It just didn't go the way I hoped. He named no names and pointed no fingers. He admitted that he's under pressure to stay away from the mess on the north side. He kept up a brave front but he's scared. I think the pressure comes from his brother."

  "The King?" I sneezed. This cold could become ugly. The coughing couldn't be far away.

  The King seemed an unlikely villain. Since peace broke out he had done little but party all night and sleep all day.

  "I know. So, then, who has the power to move the King? I'm top ten and I don't. I can barely get in to see Rupert."

  "Why would he go along?" I looked at her and tried to keep my gaze from roaming.

  "Bless you."

  Yeah. Bless the common cold. My honor saved by mucus.

  I turned so I could look at anything but her.

  She said, "One good thing came out today. I'm satisfied that Kevans isn't involved."

  "I'm happy for you." I wasn't so sure. Her daughter had serious head problems that disconnected her from society and its rules.

  "First proof is, nobody would cover for her like this is being covered up. And she has alibis for both nights when crazy things happened." She didn't sound happy about that.

  She said she was estranged from both her father and daughter. Maybe her dad was Kevans' alibi.

  Had to be. And that might not hold up.

  The Windwalker really did not want to rely on her father anymore. She had pushed him out of the family mansion on the Hill.

  Barate Algarda-who was, in every other way I'd ever seen, as exemplary a human being as you could hope to meet-had instilled in this daughter an insecurity so great she thought that her only real value could be as somebody's sex toy.

  Which I was thinking when she said, "I'm one of the ten most powerful sorcerers in TunFaire." But the little girl inside didn't reckon her worth that way. "I know that here." She thunked her noggin with her fist.

  "So the question would be, who scares Rupert more than you do?"

  That drew a surprisingly adolescent grin. "Yep. But you need to remember that Rupert will still be his own man. Even if somebody has him wetting his pants. He's kind of like you, that way."

  I felt a far, far sense of amusement.

  She rambled on. "Without saying so he let me know he hopes I'll keep stirring the pot. He hinted that there are people on the margins who aren't likely to turn their backs because an authority doesn't want them nosing around."

  That sounded like Rupert. He would conform to his instructions but would fail to notice insubordination. A toe tap here and there might encourage more noncompliance.

  The Windwalker said, "I have to leave. I can't stand the distraction." She eased off the end of my bed, headed for the window more slowly than she could have done
. I had no trouble sensing her willing me to stop her. I imagine she had no trouble sensing me wanting to do exactly that.

  It didn't happen. It wasn't the time, even if it was fated.

  She clambered out the window. A clumsy process, also slower than it had to be. But she turned divinely graceful once she started walking on moonlight.

  She said, "There's something about you. . When your relationship with the redheaded woman falls apart, I'm coming for you. You'll be amazed. We'll be the talk of the town. We'll have the wedding of the year."

  I gulped and gaped as she fluttered away, leaving no doubt that she meant every word. Hill folk do when they make a declarative statement. Even shy, socially inept Hill folk.

  Which left me with extremely mixed emotions.

  I lay back, sure I wouldn't sleep again for the rest of my life.

  45

  I've got talents. I've got skills. When my head gets too frothy with what-ifs, I've got a live-in (so to speak) Loghyr who steps in and shuts me down. I slept till midmorning.

  Singe came to wake me. I came round in a good mood. "If it wouldn't get us both burned at the stake I'd pro-" My tongue froze. My jaw locked. Old Bones never touched me that way.

  That he had needed no explanation.

  Ratpeople weren't built to frown. But Singe could squint and demand, "What?" in her most puzzled tone.

  "Singe, I was going to make a really bad joke that would've been way out of line. I'm sorry. I've been away too long."

  Singe was bright but didn't work that one out. Thank God. Or the gods. Or maybe the old dead thing downstairs who saved me the taste of leather in my mouth.

  So. Singe was a grown ratwoman and no longer entertained adolescent fantasies about us becoming lovers. She was the wondrous perfect business side of my business. But she still had emotion invested. She could be hurt deeply by what might sound like me poking fun.

  By the time you reach two hundred we will turn you into a mature, thoughtful, sensitive adult who thinks before he says. . Oh, sugar!