Gilded Latten Bones gp-13

by Glen Cook

  Morley asked, "What are the chances those villains will forget about us now?"

  "Dumbass question, brother. How the hell would I know? Near as I can figure, they ought to have zero interest in me and only incidental interest in you. Unless you can remember why those absurd people were after you in the first place."

  "Garrett, if I knew, you and Bell both would have heard a long time ago."

  No doubt. No doubt.

  Someone knocked.

  Singe sighed, set her pen down, grumbled, "And so it begins."

  83

  Our visitor was General Block. He was in a good mood. He did not ask for alcohol. He reckoned black tea would be entirely adequate.

  "Breakthrough?" I asked.

  "We found out where the custom glassware came from. Weast Brothers, in Leifmold. Shone and Sons handled the importing using Dustin Lord Shippers. The purchasers paid cash and collected the materials from the dock using their own transport. They purchased seventy-two items that came in three shipments, the first about a month after the thing at the World Theater went quiescent."

  Quiescent? Where did he ever hear a word that big?

  "Is there a connection?"

  "I doubt it."

  Strafa said, "There weren't half that many pieces in that warehouse."

  "There were twenty-six. We have friends in the crew that moved them. Only a few got broken."

  "That's all interesting," I said. "But helpful how?"

  "Helpful because we now know where they were manufactured. A team of Specials is headed down there already. So. What about you all? Come up with anything?"

  He looked straight at Strafa. He knew she had been to the warehouse again.

  She said, "We didn't find anything. Not even a speck of dust. What did your sorcerers find?"

  "Some useless specks of dust. Professionals cleaned that place out."

  I asked, "Any ideas about why the cover-up?"

  "I know exactly why. So I'm told. I'm on my way home from the Palace. I took a serious ass-munching from Prince Rupert. He made it perfectly clear-for the benefit of witnesses who didn't think I knew they were watching. The Crown is determined to avoid a popular panic. Therefore, this business is too important to be handled by the Guard."

  I snorted.

  Block nodded. "Experts off the Hill say TunFaire is unstable and volatile because of high unemployment and strained racial relations resulting from the conclusion of the war with Venageta."

  Singe said, "When have our lords of the Hill ever cared about that?"

  Block raised a hand. "Truth has nothing to do with any of this. They did make one good point. The real hot weather will be here soon."

  I could put a cot in there with the Dead Man.

  "The orchestrated manipulation of a populace already hot, worried about jobs, and troubled by arcane happenings, might provoke riots and witch hunts."

  "Glory Mooncalled," I said.

  Block looked at me like I was nuts.

  "Just speculation. There was a rumor a couple years ago that he was back, then a whole lot of nothing, like maybe somebody clamped down. This could be some kind of urban guerrilla warfare."

  "You do have an imagination, Garrett. If there is any political angle, the source is more likely inside the human rights movement."

  I glanced at Morley.

  He shook his head. "No way. I don't know what I was doing when they captured me. But I wasn't on a mission from the Elven Defense League. Those people are nuts."

  Block asked the question. "So you were taken captive, then?"

  "I. ." Morley frowned. "I guess. It stands to reason. Ugh!"

  "What?"

  "I had a flash vision of somewhere dark and smelly. What you would expect where you keep people locked up."

  Singe was all over him immediately. "Describe the smells!"

  "Back off, people! It was just a flash. There isn't anything there to get hold of yet." He met my eye, glanced eastward.

  It was a shame, indeed, that the Dead Man was on hiatus.

  For no reason I understood at the moment, I asked, "Where is Penny? Anybody seen her?"

  No one had. A flurry of activity ended seconds later when Strafa looked into the Dead Man's room. Penny was in there with the Bird. Bird was teaching her to paint.

  Back in Singe's office, I asked, "When did the Bird show up?"

  No one knew. Concerned, I hustled to the kitchen to ask Dean. Dean had no idea, either, but had Playmate and Dollar Dan in there with him. Dollar Dan said, "That painter guy came the same time I did. The young girl let us in."

  Interesting. "Thanks." I hustled back to the others, where I told Singe what Dollar Dan had said.

  "I'll talk to Penny. She's careful about strangers but she should keep us posted about friends."

  Block asked, "Anything else you people want to tell me?"

  Ah, hell. He was getting that look.

  I said, "Tell me what you have. I'm one hundred percent open this time so I'll give you anything you don't already have."

  He did not believe me but he played along, telling me some of what the Guard had. I told him, "That's already more than we know here. What could you possibly think we're holding back?"

  "You must be. You're constitutionally unable to. ."

  "Captain, stop!" Thus spake the Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light. "It would seem that you have a constitutional handicap of your own."

  Captain? Block said, "Yes, ma'am." Meekly.

  Singe said, "We could have something more later. You are the first of our contacts to visit us today."

  I was trying to recall what I was hiding so I could keep my stories straight.

  Block changed the subject. "Prince Rupert wants to see you, Garrett. He said to tell you."

  "Why?"

  "Going to offer you a job again. Lurking Felhske isn't as straight-arrow as he hoped."

  I shrugged. "Not interested."

  "You'll have to tell him yourself."

  "I don't have time. I'm busy here."

  "Garrett! The Crown Prince wants to talk to you."

  "If it's that important he knows where to find me."

  Block looked at me like he had caught me pissing on an altar.

  I was being outrageous. But I figured Rupert was too busy to take umbrage.

  Somebody knocked.

  84

  Somebody proved to be cousin Artifice Tate. Singe brought him into the office. He handed her a worn leather courier case. It had the Tate crest embossed on it but almost completely rubbed off. "These people can stand witness to the fact that I delivered this. Please look inside, then tell everyone what that is."

  He talked bold but didn't meet any eyes.

  Singe opened the foxed brown case. She removed papers. She read. She said, "This is the Amalgamated corporate response to our contention that we did not receive our quarterly dividends. These are deposit receipts, all legally executed. And, note, dated today. There is a letter of apology from a Nestor Tate admitting no malice, stating that because of outside distractions the chief accountant overlooked a number of dividend payments. Possibly, further, due to misbehavior by a family member who should not have had access to the financial offices."

  So. It was my fault because Tinnie had stuff besides business on her mind. But if it couldn't be pinned on me, then a straw man did something bad. "They're going to put it onto Rose."

  Artifice said, "Maybe. If it is her fault."

  I glanced at Morley. Once upon a time he and Tinnie's troubled cousin Rose had had a fiery thing.

  He said, "First Law."

  "And some luck."

  Singe said, "Thank you, Artifice. Inform your uncles that we are impressed with the quickness and graciousness of their response. Would you care for refreshments before you go back into the heat?" She was busy writing again.

  "No, thank you. But I'd like something written to acknowledge the fact that I did make it here and you got what I was supposed to deliver."

  I was go
ing to like this Tate. He had attitude. Very subtle attitude.

  "Already done," Singe said. "General, will you and the Windwalker add your chops? To make this exchange completely legal?"

  Those two did as requested while I boggled. My little girl knew exactly what to do and was so businesslike nobody thought to demur.

  She was getting scarier by the hour.

  Block had on a half sneer that told me he saw me slipping to errand boy status around here.

  Artifice did some shallow bows and headed for the front door armed with his ragged case and notarized receipt. Clever Garrett volunteered to let him out, fooling nobody. Including Artifice, who told me, as I opened the door, "I'm sorry. I don't have anything for you from Tinnie. She suddenly don't have time for anything. She does play stuff all morning, then works the books at night." He sucked in a bushel of air, released it in a long, sad sigh. "Man, I think she gave up. She moved her stuff back to the compound when the ratgirl wouldn't let her see you. Marmie said she heard her crying last night."

  He reached out, rested a hand on my left shoulder. "I don't know what I ought to be feeling, man. She's hurting. But I think you done your part. She dug the hole. I'm supposed to be on her side 'cause she's family, but. . What I'm trying to tell you is, whatever, the family won't be as unhappy with you as you probably think. We're gonna be all right with you. Unless you do something dumb now."

  I wondered if I would ever actually see Tinnie again.

  "Thank you." Which surprised him.

  Would we become enemies? He was trying to say no. And I couldn't see it happening. Business trumps with the Tates. These days their principal business is manufacturing the wonders that spring from Kip's mind. And bad man Garrett has an undue influence over the genius boy.

  Glower and grumble some might but they would not munch any feeding hand.

  It might be gods help us all, though, if Kip ever ran dry.

  All assuming everything went on the way it appeared to be headed now.

  Is fear of your girl's family a good enough reason to keep a relationship going?

  85

  I stayed on the porch waiting for Sarge and Puddle. Let's hope those two never get into a last-man-standing ugly contest. The refs would call a draw after the twenty-seventh round.

  "Hey, gents. What's up?"

  "We just swung by to see how Morley was doing," Puddle said. Clearly nervous.

  "The Dead Man is snoozing."

  "You always say that."

  "And it's usually true. Even if it isn't right now, you want to see Morley, you got to come inside. Plus, it's too late. You're already inside his range."

  Up the steps they came.

  Clever me, I scooted in, got Morley out of Singe's office and shut that door before his boys noticed General Block. No need having them wonder why the head tin whistle spent so much time at my house, close to their boss. I took them into the Dead Man's room.

  Puddle told me, "I don't like it in here wit' dat t'ing. It's creepy. But da cool air is nice."

  "I'm not real fond of being in here, either. But you're right about the air. Penny, my love, can you take a second to show these gentlemen the pictures you and Bird made?"

  The girl had sass enough to mutter, "I know a gentleman when I see one. There aren't any in this room."

  Sarge said, "Hey, she's cute. I like dat. You wanna sell her?"

  Penny stood up to it. Having Old Bones right there fired up her confidence. She said, "We don't 'make' 'pictures.' " Last word gotten, she did do as I asked.

  I leaned close to Sarge, murmured, "Little known fact. I need to keep it in mind myself. The kid is Belinda's half-sister."

  "Ouch!"

  Not that Belinda ever showed the least indication of caring.

  The boys ignored the painting of the man entirely. Had a renowned shy girl not been holding the drawings of the woman in leather I'm sure they would have paid the model some crudely enthusiastic compliments.

  Morley asked, "You guys know either of these people?"

  Heads shook. Sarge stated the obvious. "I wouldn't mind getting to know her. 'Specially if she's got a t'ing for old guys wit' big bellies an' not much hair."

  "Get in line."

  "Dat figures."

  Morley added, "The man is the important one. I've seen him somewhere but I can't remember where or when. He's the boss of a gang of resurrection men. His name is Nat, Nate, Nathan, something like that."

  The henchmen shook their heads. Puddle said, "We wouldn't never have nothing ta do wit' dat kinda creep."

  I believed him. The street climbed right up and proclaimed itself loudly in his speech. Along with abiding repugnance.

  Good to know that Morley surrounded himself with associates who had moral limits.

  My interest satisfied, I left Morley with his crew and went back to Singe's office. "We need to keep the door shut for a few minutes."

  I stepped back out and went to the front door, where Jon Salvation was tap-tap-tapping.

  86

  "I won't come in, Garrett. I don't have time. These are notes I made during my rounds of the costume shops. They should be useful."

  "Thanks. How is Tinnie doing?"

  "So far, marvelously. But we aren't that far along. She'll have plenty of chances to be herself before we take the show live. I'm having Alyx Weider be her understudy. The competition should keep her focused."

  "If you stick with Alyx."

  "I know what I want to do for the girl. Crush."

  "I'm listening." I used every second to look around. I was sure we were being watched but I didn't see anyone.

  Morley, Sarge, and Puddle came out of the house, breaking my concentration.

  Salvation asked, "Why are you sniffing like that?"

  "Still fighting the cold." I lied. I knew a man who could be invisible when he was watching. He gave himself away sometimes because he never developed a sufficiently intimate relationship with soap and water.

  I smelled nothing unusual.

  Salvation, jostled by Sarge and Puddle, scowled as he said, "I'll have the actors sign a copy of the play and send her that. One of the rehearsal copies. Through you, so she doesn't take it the wrong way. I'll tuck in a pass to the premiere, in my box."

  "That's overkill, Jon. She'll be absolutely sure you're out to get into her pants."

  "Think so?"

  "I think so. Crush may not have a lot of years on her but the ones she has have been rough enough to turn her completely cynical."

  "That's too bad. She seems like a bright kid."

  "She is. She thinks she's a complete realist, too. I know how you feel. I feel that way. She shouldn't waste herself the way she is. But I don't think she'd reach out to grab a helping hand to be rescued."

  Salvation nodded. "She wouldn't because she would expect to be pulled into something worse."

  "Exactly. But keep those options open. If I see her again I'll find out what she thinks. Subtly."

  Morley had been waving to his troops and eavesdropping. He said, "You be subtle with a woman, Garrett? I find that hard to picture."

  "You're probably right."

  "Go for underkill, Salvation. Have Garrett pass the word she can come by and watch a rehearsal sometime, if she wants. Open-end offer. No big deal if she does or doesn't. Just an option. You're not buying anything that way."

  Salvation and I gaped.

  Morley said, "The way it sounds, you're interested in making an act of friendship. You don't buy friendship. Close your mouth, Garrett. A pigeon will fly in there and lay eggs."

  He went back inside, leaving the door ajar.

  I said, "That made sense, Jon."

  "It did."

  I thanked him for the notes. I followed Morley, pausing just long enough to add, "Tell your security crew to let Crush in if she shows up." Wondering if Mike would give a star that much freedom of motion.

  "Yeah. It's Stage Two. Six in the morning till three. Then we clear out so they can set up for the early
performance of King Kristine. We're almost always gone by one, though. Everyone has other things to do." He sneered.

  King Kristine was not one of his. It was the story of a prince who was born a girl but her father hid the fact. A romantic comedy aimed at a female audience. As a newly crowned king, Kristine would fall for Waldon of the kingdom next door, just when her advisers wanted a war.

  There have been numerous variations on the theme since plays got popular. It might turn out that Waldon was a girl, too. Or the princess the king was supposed to marry would be a pretty boy in drag. Along the way there would be lots of misunderstandings and mischief by friends.

  Romantic comedies don't have legs but they sell well for a short while. They make nice fillers between the big dramas that draw the repeat customers.

  The Faerie Queene would replace King Kristine about as soon as Jon Salvation had it ready to present.

  I shut the door, went to Singe's office. On time. Dean and Playmate were delivering tea and sandwiches. The new drug had Playmate looking much better. He wore a smile that took no strain to produce.

  I ate with one hand, read Jon Salvation's notes with the other, then passed them on to Singe. She kept a straight face, too.

  "That something I should know about?" Block asked.

  "It's mostly a lot of frustration. Plus instructions about what he wants Singe to put into a letter that he wants to go to a woman without her realizing that the letter came from him."

  "He's going to do romantic comedy now?" Block gave me the fish-eye. He was ready to get all moody because I was lying. But I was only massaging the truth.

  I said, "Here's a suggestion. Check around your shop. See if somebody has been buying a lot of costumes."

  "We have been. We intend to put some patrolmen into uniform next quarter."

  "That's a relief, then. I guess."

  "You thought it was us behind all this?"

  No. But I did want a brief distraction and Jon Salvation's notes did mention the Guard hiring costumers to produce uniforms for the troops and shiny outfits for their commanders.

  I yakked. Singe worked some sleight of hand. Several sheets of notes disappeared. "Stop being a knee-jerk obstructionist and pass the notes to the General." She handed them to me, I handed them to Block. She said, "General, please pass those to the Windwalker once you read them."