Gilded Latten Bones

by Glen Cook

  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!

  Oh, sugar? What the h-e-double-broomsticks did that mean?

  While the mental stuff happened I dragged myself out of bed. My marvelous business partner, whose feelings I had just so bravely taken into account, sniffed around with increasing agitation.

  “You had a woman in here last night!” There was an angry edge to her voice. After several bellicose sniffs round the bed, though, she relaxed.

  Maybe the Dead Man brought her up to speed. Or she worked the whole thing out with her mutant nose. Garrett had avoided temptation.

  Oh, sugar, because we are about to have unexpected guests. And you need to be here to help manage them.

  An image of an angry band of Children of the Light formed in my mind. They made a big black blot in the street.

  “What’s the big deal? Ignore them.”

  I would rather not. More than most who come threatening grief or mayhem, these old men could cause us some discomfort.

  Naturally, he didn’t explain.

  With Singe’s assistance I made myself presentable and was ready before the hammering on the door commenced. I used the peephole, saw a lot of black clothing. I let the folks stew till the Dead Man thought they were ready.

  My first impression was, wow! I’d better send Singe for Cap’n Roger. Half these guys were going to expire before sundown. Their median age had to be in triple digits. The youngest looked like he started yearning for the good old days when the Dead Man was a pup.

  Four had reached my stoop.

  “Howdy, fathers. How can I help you?” How had they survived the climb? “If you’re collecting for your church I have to tell you we’re Orthodox here.” By birth. I hadn’t been to a service in an age.

  “You have Brother Hoto Pepper confined here. We have come to take him away.”

  The Dead Man sent, Pull the ugly one inside and shut the door. Lock up, then bring him in here.

  Excellent. We had a plan. All I needed to do was to pick a winner.

  Old Bones had no patience. One old man developed a halo. I grabbed, pulled, slammed, locked. Well, Singe did the locking while I held the door shut.

  Our victim shambled dispiritedly off to the party room. The Children of the Light outside waxed enthusiastic in their threats. The Dead Man showed no concern.

  I asked, “You need me now?”

  Not right away.

  I headed for the kitchen. I was hungry.

  I didn’t get far with correcting that.

  You may allow our visitors to leave, now.

  I pushed back from the table, marched off to do my duty. “You sure?”

  There is nothing more that I can retrieve from any of them.

  Two old guys in black and the poisoner Kolda — pardon; the apothecary Kolda — awaited me outside the Dead Man’s doorway.

  Kolda will be gone only a short while. He will gather some specifics to help with Playmate. Please make sure that Brother Hoto does exit the premises. He is reluctant to rejoin his own kind. He fears that they will ask him the same questions I did, but using tools.

  I expected a hassle from the crowd when I released their brethren. That did not happen. The Dead Man had tamed or confused them. And they had worn themselves out chipping the paint off the door.

  I closed up and went back to reacquaint myself with breakfast.

  As I passed my former office I noted that Morley’s only company was Dollar Dan. The caretaker ratwomen had come and gone. The other guards had gone with them.

  We do not need them now that there are no outsiders in the house. Mr. Dollar can go once you finish eating.

  I trekked on and in time assailed a stack of griddle cakes. Dean didn’t make those often. He was in a good mood. I mentioned it.

  “Perhaps because of the excitement yesterday. It took me back.”

  I looked at him askance.

  He didn’t change his story.

  46

  I shut the door behind Dollar Dan. He would come back later, to sit with Morley while I was upstairs snoring.

  “And snoring it had better be,” Singe told me, remembering the woman smell. She did not like Furious Tide of Light today. I wasn’t sure why.

  I can’t quite work out how Singe decides who she likes and who she doesn’t, nor why she will change her mind overnight. Her brain doesn’t work like mine. I’m sure her sense of smell has something to do with it.

  I settled in near Morley, a pot of tea at hand. The Dead Man filled me in on what he had learned from our visitors, including tidbits from the elders who had come for Brother Hoto. Of interest was the fact that Winger and the Remora were drifting apart, the drift mainly hers. She couldn’t handle his success.

  We do not know much more about the threat to the city. We do know who has been warned off it. We have eyes and ears watching and listening, now. We know we will get Mr. Dotes back. Additionally, we have set in motion actions that offer a chance of rescuing Playmate from the natural monster devouring him.

  That was good news. “Did you get anything from the Windwalker?”

  Vague amusement, presumably at my expense. That woman is the most simple-minded, empty-headed genius I have ever encountered. She can focus her entire being on the moment. You could do far worse.

  “Excuse me?”

  As a practical matter. She would provide all the fireworks — and more — with none of the drama of your Miss Tate.

  “Uh...”

  Miss Algarda is ready to grant her devotion. That would be unreserved and absolute. She considers you an ideal candidate. Although she is an immense and formidable power, and a genius professionally, her emotional world is simpler than that of Deal Relway.

  “That’s scary.”

  It is. She does not grasp nuance or shades of gray.

  The answer to why me might be tucked inside what he had sent. A different kind of sociopath, she would not need time to work things out. Is/is not, with nothing in between. “She would be clever enough not to push me, wouldn’t she?”

  You could be right in considering her a special kind of sociopath. She is smart enough to show the behavior she has seen in courtships. But she will not be resilient if she is mislead, mistreated, emotionally abused, or blackmailed.

  “I believe I get the idea.”

  Good. You are staring into the eyes of a big responsibility.

  I had an uncomfortable notion that I knew what he meant.

  Dotes’ First Law. Keep your hands off a woman crazier than you are. Which I observed in the breach. Furious Tide of Light would be, “You Touch It, You Bought It.”

  But I didn’t believe she was crazy. Not the way girlfriends usually are.

  Her head worked different, sure. She had grown up sheltered from life. She coped now because she didn’t go out much. When she did she dealt with people she scared so bad they couldn’t imagine messing with her.

  Hers was a unique emotional realm but it was the only one she knew.

  Part of me did find her damned intriguing. It hunted loop-holes in Dotes’ Law.

  That was the part exha
usted by squabbling with Tinnie.

  “What do you think, Old Bones?”

  I think it is none of my business. I think you are an adult now, and I should not tinker — unless, as was the case with Singe this morning, you start running your mouth with no thought to the consequences.

  I was stunned. By making that carefully neutral statement he had told me something I’m sure he did not intend. He had doubts about Tinnie. After all this time.

  I would have expected him to endorse the redhead and reject the Windwalker. I wasn’t in her class and she came with a whole different drama. (I wasn’t in Tinnie’s class, either, but a different definition of class was operative there.)

  Maybe he was tired of the drama, too.

  Still, I carefully reviewed his communications since he had labeled Furious Tide of Light an empty-headed genius. I got a strange impression that he did prefer the Windwalker but would be careful not to say so.

  Off I rambled into my own internal drama land, wondering what it was about the beautiful but weird sorceress that made her a preferable mate.

  Morley tried to say something.

  47

  Morley was awake.

  His eyes were halfway open, fluttering. He wanted to say something.

  Having been in his position myself, I told him, “You’re at my place on Macunado Street, being watched out for by me, Singe, the Dead Man, Belinda, John Stretch, the Civil Guard, and the godsdamned Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light. Somebody really wanted to close you down, buddy. Oh. You’ve been out for more than a week. They tried to poison you, too.”

  In retrospect, that actually helped. His wounds healed a lot while he was unconscious.

  He tried to sit up. He got nowhere. His wounds were not healed enough. He felt them, too. And now had no strength left.

  “Water!” was the first word I understood.

  Then Dean was there, not only with water but with warm chicken broth. Singe was only a moment behind. She helped lift Morley so Dean could deliver the water and liquid chow.

  After the stress level declined and the broth began to work, Morley croaked, “Tell me.”