by Glen Cook
“Armed guards,” Saucerhead said. I didn’t see any. He told me, “You want to, grab on to something that ain’t yours.”
“I take it you know who’s on the job.”
“They’re Watch guys picking up a little extra on their own time. I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t already helping you.”
“Who’s paying them?”
Tharpe shrugged. He didn’t know. And probably didn’t care.
We entered the hospital unchallenged. Morley said, “I’ll see what I can find out.” One weak lamp burned ahead. Its light was enough to show us an unfamiliar woman at the reception desk. She was delighted to see Morley. His earlier conquest must’ve talked.
“I cannot come in here!” Singe told me suddenly, after not having spoken since we left home, except to whine about her tail dragging in the slush.
“Nobody will give you any crap.”
“That is not the problem. The problem is the air. It is thick with madness. I cannot endure it.”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve thought of that. Mr. Tharpe. Would you stay with Singe? In case some moron gets obnoxious?”
Tharpe grunted. He and Singe went back outside. Morley turned on the charm spigot. I headed for Buy Claxton’s suite. And got there without seeing another human being.
I wasn’t surprised. This was the Bledsoe, warehouse for the sickest of the poorest of the poor and craziest of the crazies. Their dying place.
Some crazies were venting madness right now.
Buy Claxton was awake. She was knitting by candlelight. A dead flower in a clay pot stood on a stand with the candle. She remembered me. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. “See what the lady sent me?” She indicated the flower, uncommon for the season.
“The lady?”
“Miss Contague. She’s quite thoughtful for a woman of her position.”
“She has her moments.”
“Did she send you to see how I’m doing?”
A small fib wouldn’t be entirely misplaced. “And to see if we can’t find out what happened, now that you’re feeling better.”
Mrs. Claxton put her knitting aside, teary-eyed. She controlled herself. “I’m no widow, you know. And I have two sons and three daughters. My Ethan died in the Cantard. He’d be your age. He’s the only one with a good reason for not visiting.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Some people are thoughtless. Especially family.”
“I’ll bet you’re good to your mother.”
“My mother is gone. I did try when she was still with us.” But I’ve been a louse since then. I haven’t visited her grave in years. “But let’s not be sadder than we need to be. Not here.”
“That would be sound thinking, young man. How can I help?”
“It’s the fire. I’m supposed to find out what happened.”
“I don’t know. It just happened. It hurt! Bad.” She smiled weakly.
“I can tell you this, Mrs. Claxton…”
“Call me Buy.”
“Yes, ma’am. You might not have noticed because you weren’t looking for it, but that didn’t just happen. There must’ve been something leading up. So I want to go over the whole evening with you. Why were you there in the first place? You didn’t work for the caterer.”
“No. For Mr. Hartwell.”
“Is that the Mr. Hartwell who manages the Contague estate?” A man I’d never trusted. A slimy type. But I couldn’t imagine him stealing from the Contagues.
“His son. Armondy. He asked me to help set up, do kitchen work, and clean up afterward.”
“So it wasn’t odd that you were there?”
“No. I don’t think.”
“Interesting. When did you get there? Did anything unusual happen when you did?”
“A little after noon. There wasn’t anything to do then. The unusual thing was that I caught on fire and almost burned to death.” She ranted about her husband and children. I let her vent the anger.
“Who did you report to when you arrived?”
“When they finally showed up, them fancy boys. I just hung out till they got there.”
“I met them. They were in charge?”
“They wanted to think. They were decorators. They were there to arrange the tables and chairs. I only paid attention if what they said made sense. No. I took my orders from Mr. Temisk. I knew him from years back.”
“Harvester Temisk?”
“That’s the one.”
“So Mr. Temisk was there. Early. In the back.” I hadn’t known that. Nobody had mentioned seeing Temisk.
“Where I first run into him was in the pantries. I don’t know why he was back there. Looking for lamp oil, he said. Since I seen some in the kitchen, brung by the fancy boys, I showed him where I seen it.”
“What about Miss Contague? When did she show?”
Mrs. Claxton confirmed my suspicions. “She was already there when I got there. With her bodyguards. Checking for trouble, I guess.”
“Mr. Temisk wanted lamp oil? Why?”
“Well, he took out this little wood box and shook this green, flaky stuff in the oil and shook the jars. He said it was incense. He had me fill the lamps to go on the tables.”
This didn’t look good for Harvester Temisk. “Then what?”
“I don’t know. Then he went away. I didn’t see him again. I worked around the kitchen. Oh. And Mr.Temisk gave me this little jade pin. For being so helpful, he said.“
Didn’t look good for Temisk at all. “This flake stuff. Did any get spilled? Or miss getting into the lamp oil?” If it was what I suspected, it got tracked around by an unwitting rat.
Mrs. Claxton considered. “Come to think, he did fumble the lid of the box when he started to spice up the first oil jar. He cussed something awful. Because the spice was so expensive, he said.”
Yes. No doubt. We talked a while, mainly about her sad family. I didn’t learn anything useful. “Did anyone else see Mr. Temisk?”
“I don’t know. I never seen no one else around.”
“Did you see the lady’s father? Chodo Contague?”
“Well, no. But he musta been there somewhere, eh?”
Temisk’s timing had been amazing if he’d been missed by my pixies and rats. Although there hadn’t been any reason for them to watch for him and no reason for them to recognize him if they did see him. A guy named Garrett was the only one who needed to miss him. Plus Chodo’s beloved only child and a few underbosses, the latter of whom had no reason to visit the kitchens.
This was beginning to look like a huge, ugly Harvester Temisk murder scheme piggybacked onto whatever plot Belinda was running. Which meant that Temisk used me from the start.
Everybody’s schemes disintegrated in the chaos inside Whitefield Hall.
I’d have some hard questions for lawyer boy when I caught him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Claxton. Do you want me to check on your family?”
“Thank you, young man, but no. I’ll handle them myself. I will get out of here someday.”
“I hope so. You keep that attitude, it won’t be long.”
58
Morley was reluctant to leave. His new friend was loath to let him go. But other people were arriving for work. Being people, they were nosy, noisy, and demanding.
“You learn anything?” I asked as we slipped outside. And, “Where the hell did those two go?”
Singe and Saucerhead were nowhere to be seen.
“A trust fund pays for the guards. There’s Tharpe.”
Saucerhead beckoned from a gap between buildings where overhangs provided some protection from the drizzle.
“Is it worth chasing the money trail?”
“Why bother? Unless you’ve got something going that I don’t know about. Block and Relway might give it a look, though.”
“I’ve got a feeling they’ve lost interest in the Ugly Pants Gang. For now. What’re you guys doing over here?”
“Trying not to be noticed by Plenty Hart and Bobo Negry,�
�� Saucerhead said.
“Who?”
“A couple of Rory’s men,” Morley told me. “Middle level. Dangerous. What would they be doing here?”
“Maybe Merry is inside,” I speculated. “He was in ragged shape when the Dead Man was done with him.”
“Maybe.” Tharpe doubted it, though. “They was looking for somebody.”
“Us? Did Big Boy not do a good job of getting us away?”
Tharpe shrugged.
“Singe?”
“Do not ask me. I am a tracker. I can help you find an answer only by tracking those men back. If they came here on our trail, that would be obvious in a short time. Do you wish to try that?”
“Would it take long to make sure?”
“Ten minutes,” Singe promised.
“Saucerhead, stick with her. Soon as she makes up her mind, head for… where, Singe?”
“The Tersize Granary.”
“Sniff Morley and me out, Singe.”
“Or Garrett and I,” Dotes said. Then, once they took off, “You planning on rushing into this?”
“You have a suggestion?”
“Same old, same old as always. Be ready for trouble.”
He meant weaponry. Armaments, in fact. He’d lug a siege ballista if he could get one into a pocket. And use it at the least excuse. And feel no remorse afterward.
“I have my stick.”
Morley was not overawed.
“If I need something nastier, I’ll take it away from somebody.”
“You’re not as young and quick as you think you are.”
“Is anybody? Ever?”
“So stipulated. Without excusing your silly refusal to look out for yourself.”
“Oh-oh. I get the feeling my weapons habits are about to take second place to my dietary habits.”
“Since you bring it up…”
And so it went. Thirty minutes later we sighted the Tersize Granary. Which, till recently, had been the Royal Karentine Military Granary, whence vast tonnages of feed grains, flours, and finished baked goods (read rock-hard hardtack in hundredweight barrels) barged down a canal to the river and thence to the war zone. The operating Tersize family acquired it from the Ministry of War, cheap after the killing stopped.
I said, “The Tersizes are related to the Contagues somehow, aren’t they?”
“Chodo’s stepsister Cloris married Misias Tersize. But they weren’t in bed with the Outfit. That I’ve heard. The place isn’t what it used to be,” Morley said of the sprawl of redbrick milling and storage facilities.
Much of it appeared to have gone derelict. “You know this area?” I didn’t. “I don’t see any sign of squatters.” TunFaire is inundated with refugees from a war zone that no longer exists.
“No. The place used to be a fort. The millers and bakers couldn’t get in or out without a military pass. You want to wait for Saucerhead and Singe?”
Recalling times when I’d just charged in, “I think so.”
“Developing a taste for caution? At this late date?”
“I have responsibilities now. Dean. The Dead Man. Seven kittens. And a girlfriend who’ll hunt me down in Hell if I get myself killed before I can visit her in her sickbed.”
“Why don’t we just slip into the lee of one of these buildings while we wait, then? Because I’ve just figured out why there aren’t any squatters.”
I caught what his sharper elfish eyes had spied already.
Three sizable men ambled along the street beside the westernmost wall of the granary. One checked the doors that existed at regular intervals, formerly for loading and unloading. The street-side walls of the granary were the outer faces of the various structures included in the complex, connected by the outer faces of single-story sheds. Tinnie’s family lived in a similar complex. It included family housing, worker housing, warehousing, and manufacturing workshops. The Tate compound, though, had a smaller footprint and was less imposing vertically.
“You know, brunos look pretty much the same wherever you find them. But I have a definite feeling that these three wouldn’t be embarrassed if their mothers dressed them in green plaid pants.” Had Block cut them loose? Or were there more of them than suspected, now avoiding the Bledsoe project and public attention?
The door checker of the three performed his function again, using a stick much like the one I carried. The others were better armed. Or worse, if you have a tendency to acknowledge the law. One carried a set of swords, long and short. The other lugged a siege engine of a crossbow, drawn and loaded. They were looking for trouble.
“You have a nasty way of thinking, my friend. But you’re right. Go talk to them. See if they have a country accent. If they are Green Pants people, we’ll know why there’s always more of them than we expect to see.”
“You go. Beauty defers to age.”
“Speaking of beauty and beast. Tharpe and Singe should have been here by now. I’m getting a chill.”
“If we have to walk all the way around the place, you’ll warm up… Uh-oh!”
The stick man had found a door that swung inward. That it shouldn’t have done was obvious instantly.
Blades came out. The crossbowman backed off a few steps. The stick man moved in, with no caution whatsoever.
Ratmen boiled past him. Preceded by a swarm of missiles that might have been tavern darts. That was so remarkable that stick man and sword man alike failed to do anything but duck. Crossbowman managed only to take the striped stocking cap off the head of an especially long, gaunt ratman. The pack was too chaotic for an accurate count. They disappeared before the security men pulled themselves together.
The three looked around, realized there was nothing they could do about the ratmen, went inside to see what the ratmen had been doing.
Ratmen materialized. I recognized John Stretch. They slammed the door shut and nailed it in place. Then the rat king headed our way while his minions congratulated one another.
“He knew we were here,” I said.
“Yes.” Morley examined our surroundings thoughtfully.
I checked for normal rats myself till John Stretch was close enough to hear me ask, “What was all that?”
“We wanted the patrol out of our fur. They will not be missed for a while. But we have no time to spare.”
“You timed all that for our arrival?”
The ratman seemed concerned about my intelligence. “No.”
“But you did know that we were lurking around out here.”
“Yes. Where is Singe? I expected her to bring you here.”
“She’s coming.” I explained the delay.
And here she came. Trudging through the snow, holding her cold tail, looking miserable. Saucerhead limped along behind.
A flurry of activity commenced at what would’ve been the next door checked by the trapped patrol. A flood of ratpeople went in. Then the stream became bidirectional. Those exiting were loaded down. Singe took one look, dropped her tail, and tied into her brother. “Are you mad?”
“Easy, girl,” I told her.
“This is insane! The humans will forget the Other Races! The Watch will help the racialists persecute our folk.”
“Easy, Singe. Did you think about that, John?” While he considered his reply, I asked Singe, “What’s the word? Were we being followed?”
“No. They just took the same route for a long time.” Then, sort of vaguely, ”But they might have been looking for us even if they did not know they were following us.”
I shook my head. She was starting to think like the Dead Man. “What’s your story?” I asked Saucerhead. He was hanging on to a wall, favoring his left hip.
“I fell. On some ice. It was under some fresh snow. It’s snowing back there, just a couple blocks.”
“Really?”
John Stretch said, “There will be no complaints to the Watch.”
“Oh?”
“Thieves do not complain to the law when other thieves take what they have stolen.”
<
br /> He’d never swapped war stories with veterans of the Watch, I guess. But I got his point. “There’s illegal stuff going on over there, eh?”
“All this part in back. Behind the smokestacks. It is all shut down and sealed off from the rest. Not used anymore. Except by criminals.”
“I see. Saucerhead. How are you going to babysit me if you keep falling on your ass yourself?”
He muttered something about how dumb do you have to be to let Teacher White ambush you and make you eat noxious weeds?
I sneered, asked the ratman, “These bad boys look like the ones who caused a fuss in our neighborhood. Are they foreigners?”
“Out-of-towners. Yes.”
“Definitely explains why there’s always another one around after the Watch thinks they’ve got them all.”
Morley observed, “We didn’t come out here for a committee meeting.”
“Good point. John Stretch. Where is my friend the mouthpiece?”
The ratman sighed. “Follow me.”
Our path led past the door the ratmen had nailed shut. Tremendous impacts hit it from the other side. Dust and splinters flew.
I said, “That convinces me. They’re just not wearing the pants. I’ve never seen anybody that stubborn.”
John Stretch showed concern. “They will be in a bloody mind when they do get out.”
“Likely. They’re not used to not getting their own way. Your guys threw darts. Weren’t they poisoned?”
“No. I did not know where to acquire that sort of drug.”
Too bad. But I wasn’t inclined to clue him in now.
Singe offered no suggestions, either.
59
We used the doorway the plundering ratpeople were running in and out of. Who stole all that in the first place? The crew from Ymber wouldn’t waste the time.
John Stretch led us up a dusty, rickety stair slick with bat droppings. The bat smell was potent. He led on through a maze of ups and downs. The granary had been built in stages, over generations. The army had wanted everything connected. The ratman said, “I am sorry. I have not yet seen this myself. There must be a more direct route. I believe we are close now. Be silent.”
