Bitter Gold Hearts gf-2

by Glen Cook

  "I was sure you'd want to suggest she learn to pick her nose with her elbow."

  "I'm not quite ready for that yet."

  "And if she insists on seeing you?"

  "Tell her I'm not here. Say I ran off somewhere."

  "You know she won't believe that. She's a stormwarden. She'll know where you are."

  Amber shrugged. "If I have to face her, I will. Otherwise, just leave me out of it."

  "Whatever you say."

  The future began hammering on the door. Dean looked in to see if I wanted him to answer. I nodded. He headed out at a reluctant shuffle. I rose and went after him. Amber scurried up the stairs. Saucerhead and the boys folded their hands and strolled into the hallway. I was five feet behind Dean when he swung the door inward. The Dead Man's attention was so intense the air almost crackled. I had one hand in my pocket, gripping one of the potencies given me by Saucerhead's witch, knowing that if I employed it, Raver Styx would notice the spell about as much as she might notice the whine of a mosquito. She had come to the door alone, though she'd been accompanied on the journey from the Hill. A coach and small army cluttered the street behind her. My neighbors had made themselves scarce.

  She was a short woman, heavy and gnarly, like a dwarf. She'd never had anything like Amber's beauty, even at sixteen, when they all look good. Her face was grim and ugly. She had bright blue eyes that seemed to blaze in contrast with her tanned, leathery skin and graying hair. If she was angry, though, she concealed it very well. She seemed more relaxed than most people who come to my door. Dean had frozen. I moved forward. "Do come in, Stormwarden. I've been expecting you."

  She stepped past Dean, glancing at him as though she was puzzled by his rigidity. Could she be that naive?

  "Close the door, Dean."

  He finally moved.

  I led the Stormwarden into the room where we'd been playing cards. The office was not large enough for the crowd. As I seated my guest, I asked, "Can Dean get you anything? Tea?"

  "Brandy. Something of that sort. And not by the thimbleful. I want something to drink, not something to sniff at."

  Her voice was gravelly and as deep as ever I'd heard from a woman. It had a timbre that made her sound like she was used to being one of the boys. That was the way they talked about her. I had no direct knowledge. I'd never crossed paths with her before.

  "Dean, bring a bottle from that bunch the Bahgell brothers sent me."

  "Yes sir."

  I considered Raver Styx. That I might have grateful clients of the Baghell caliber didn't impress her.

  "Mr. Garrett... You are Mr. Garrett?" she asked.

  "I am."

  "These others?"

  "Associates. They represent the interests of a former protégé of Molahlu Crest."

  If that news amazed or dismayed her or in any other way impressed her, she didn't show it. She said, "Very well. I've studied you briefly. I understand you carry on your business your own way or you don't do business. You get results, so you can't be faulted for your ways."

  I examined her again while Dean delivered her bottle and glass. I wasn't sure how to play her. She was disappointing my expectations. I'd been steeling myself for a storm of imperial rage. I said, "I did say I was expecting you, having been drawn into the periphery of your family's affairs. But I'm not quite certain why."

  "Don't be ingenuous, Mr. Garrett. It's wasted effort. You've been nearer the heart than the periphery. Maybe nearer than you know. My first question of you would be why."

  "Representing a client or clients, of course."

  She waited a moment. When I didn't add anything, she asked, "Who?" Then, "No, strike that. You won't tell me if you think it's to your advantage to reserve it. Let me think a moment."

  After she'd reflected a moment, she continued. "Disaster after disaster has trampled my family the past few weeks. My son kidnapped, to be redeemed for a ransom so huge the financial future of the family is in doubt. And my adopted daughter decided she had to fly the nest and for her trouble got herself slaughtered by bandits."

  I wagged a cautionary finger at Saucerhead.

  "My son, after being freed, killed himself. And my natural daughter, despite your efforts and those of Willa Dount, fled home not once but twice."

  "Not to mention trivia like Courter Slauce getting himself killed on his way down to see me last night, or the fact that thieves have stripped the daPena warehouse."

  Her face shaded with the faintest cloud of emotion, the first she'd shown. "Is that true?"

  "Which?"

  "About the warehouse."

  "Yes."

  "I hadn't heard."

  "Maybe Domina has been too distracted to keep track of what's happening on the commercial side."

  "Horse feathers. Domina is feeding me disasters in tidbits in hopes I won't have her flayed and use her hide for bookbinding."

  It was a sour, trite remark, not meant to be taken seriously. Witches and sorcerers had stood the accusation so long it had become a joke of the trade.

  Having done my dance to show off, I waited, leaving the next play in her hand.

  "I'd suspected you possessed knowledge not at my command, Mr. Garrett. Now you've told me as much, for whatever motives move you. All right. We both know I want the rest. You want something for yourself. Can we arrive at a peaceful middle ground?"

  "Probably. I doubt if our goals are too far apart."

  "Indeed? What do you want, then?"

  "The man or woman who gave the order that got Amiranda Crest murdered."

  I guess when you play for stakes as high as she had for so long, you learn to keep yourself controlled. That face would have made her a deadly card player. "Go on, Mr. Garrett."

  "I want the person no matter who it is. That's what I want."

  She surveyed my companions. Sadler and Crask were blanks, but Saucerhead had leaned a little toward us. "It's obvious you know a great deal that I don't."

  Saucerhead couldn't restrain himself. "Skredli and Donni Pell, Garrett. We get them, too."

  The Stormwarden looked at me. I said, "My friend was there when Arniranda was murdered. He tried to save her and failed. He feels obligated to restore a balance. He also has a personal score to settle. Show her."

  Saucerhead understood. He started stripping. The wounds he exposed still looked nasty. The deeper cuts wouldn't lose their purplish-red color for months.

  "I see," the Stormwarden said. "Would you care to tell me how it happened?"

  Saucerhead put his shirt back on. I said nothing. Raver Styx muttered, "So that's the way it's going to be."

  All the while I stared smoke and fire at Saucerhead. He had to mention Donni Pell in front of the wife! I'd wanted to reserve Donni Pell for the moment of maximum impact.

  She hadn't reacted to the name at all.

  "I suppose the thing to do is hire you, Mr. Garrett. Then you might be more responsive."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. I do my job my own way. Between the hiring and the results I don't put up with meddling from my principal. I'm the specialist. If I can't be trusted to do the job without interference, I shouldn't be hired in the first place." I don't think my voice squeaked. I sure hoped it didn't. "What did you want to hire me for, anyway?"

  She looked at me like I was a moron.

  "I don't mind having multiple clients, but I don't take them on when their goals conflict."

  She continued to stare. Serpents of temper had begun to stir beneath the surface of her calm. No more pushing permitted.

  "Before we go on there's something I've got to show you, Stormwarden. I warn you up front, you're not going to like it. You're going to be upset. But you need to see it so you don't walk into anything with the web of illusion across your eyes."

  The Dead Man brushed me with a touch of approval. The Stormwarden rose, her face carefully composed. I said, "You ought to finish that glass and pour yourself another before we go."

  "If it's that tough, I'll take the bottle along."

&
nbsp; Just one of the guys. "Come on, then."

  I crossed the hall to the Dead Man's room, stepped inside, stepped aside. The parade followed, the Stormwarden first. The boys lined up against the wall beside the door. Crask and Sadler stared at the Dead Man and went gray around the edges.

  Seeing is believing.

  "A dead Loghyr!" The Stormwarden enthused, sounding like she'd just spotted a cute fairy toddler peeking out of the bushes. "I didn't know there were any around anymore. What do you want for it?"

  "You wouldn't want this one. He's a social parasite. My personal charity project. He does nothing but sleep and amuse himself by playing with bugs."

  "Laziness is a Loghyr racial characteristic. But even the dead can be trained to harness when you use the right lash."

  "You'll have to explain that to me sometime. I can't get any work out of him. What you need to see is over here. Dean! Get some decent damned lamps in here!" He was supposed to have done that already. He came sidling in with the necessary and stammered apologies. He was shaking all over, and I didn't blame him. This was the moment that could explode.

  She stood there staring at the bodies, not a hairline cracking her composure. She raised a hand, beckoned Dean, took the lamp, knelt. She studied Karl for a long time, taking him in inch by inch. Finished, she took a long pull on the brandy bottle, then did it all over again with Amiranda. Amiranda didn't get a second's less attention. In fact, she got a moment more.

  The Stormwarden grunted, then set her bottle aside and rested the tips of two fingers on Amiranda's belly. After a minute she muttered, "So!" and reclaimed the bottle. She drew another healthy draft.

  She rose. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Garrett." She returned the lamp to Dean. "Can we talk now? Seriously? The two of us?"

  "Yes. Dean, take these guys into the kitchen and feed them. Bring me a mug and a pitcher. In the office."

  "Yes sir. Gentlemen?"

  They didn't protest. I guess Chodo had given them orders to cooperate.

  ______XLV______

  I settled behind my desk. The Stormwarden sat opposite me, devoting herself to her bottle and her inner landscape. Finally, she said, "Karl was murdered."

  "He was. By a man named Gorgeous and an ogre breed named Skredli. Gorgeous is dead. Skredli is on the loose but we intend to find him. He also led the gang that killed Amiranda. But he was just a hired hand. Someone paid for the blood."

  "You have a great deal to tell me."

  "If I take you as a client."

  She thought for a while. "Your task now is to find the person responsible for Amiranda's murder. Correct?"

  "Yes."

  "I have a great deal of power, as you're aware. But I don't know how to go about rooting out a killer. Suppose I hire you to find Karl's murderer?"

  "That might work. Assuming we agree on precedence of claims if the same hand directed the blades in both murders."

  "There'll be no problem of precedence if you meet one condition."

  "Which is?"

  "You may take precedence for yourself, your friends, and your client—if you'll permit me to be present when you handle your end of it. It won't matter what you do. Not even death will be an escape for whoever did that in there."

  I felt a surge of elation, wondered why, then realized that most of it came from the Dead Man. He knew something, or had something. "I think we can deal."

  "I'll stay out of your way, Mr. Garrett. I'll give you whatever aid and assistance you require."

  Dean brought the beer in. I poured my mug full, damned near drained it. The Stormwarden did likewise with a second mug Dean thoughtfully provided.

  The Stormwarden said, "I expect you're out of pocket considerably for the bodies. You wouldn't have gotten them cheaply."

  "That's true."

  "Add that to what you need for a deposit against your expenses and fee."

  "Let me make sure we understand one another. You're willing to take me on and turn me loose, without shoving your hand in, as long as you're there for the showdown?"

  "Yes."

  "And you'll lend me your authority along the way?"

  "If that's necessary."

  "It will be in a few cases."

  "I have one goal only, Mr. Garrett. Laying my hands on the person or persons responsible for what happened to my children. Cost is no obstacle. Neither is the emperor himself. Do you understand me?" Those ice-blue eyes were ablaze now. "You do what you have to do to deliver. I'll back you to the gates of hell itself."

  "Pact?"

  "You want a witch's oath, written in blood?"

  "The sworn word of the Stormwarden Raver Styx will do."

  She did the whole formal thing after allowing me to word the undertaking.

  "Settled," I said. "We're on. I owe you a story." And I began telling it from the moment it intruded upon my life. I gave her the crop, reserving only my personal interactions with Amber and Amiranda. I don't think she was fooled.

  I reserved a couple thoughts about the gold, too. I did have a client, after all.

  It took several hours. She didn't interrupt. Dean kept the pitcher full and brought in food when he felt it was time. She didn't immediately comment when I finished. I gave her a few minutes, then asked, "Am I still retained?"

  She gave me a don't-be-stupid look. "Of course." She thought awhile longer. "It doesn't make sense."

  "Not from where we stand now. It probably looked slick at the start. Before people started doing unto one an other and things started going wrong. Before the terror set in."

  "It doesn't make much sense from that perspective, either. Not to me."

  "Don't go closing your mind now."

  She came into the real world for the first time in hours, fixing me with a basilisk's stare. "What?"

  "You're ignoring the centerpiece at this hell's feast. The shadow that falls upon it all. The Stormwarden Raver Styx."

  "Explain yourself, Mr. Garrett." "Iwill. By example. Suppose everyone involved was exactly who he or she is, but you, instead of being the dread Raver Styx, were the heiress to the Gallard wine fortune, that what's-her-name. Would anyone have done what they did if you were her and she'd gone out of town for six months? Would anyone have been tempted? Donni Pell and her gang, maybe, but they were motivated by greed going in. Who you were or weren't didn't matter till the double crosses and foul-ups started and asses had to be covered."

  She didn't like it a bit, though I'd barely skimmed the edges. But that woman had to be the most hardhearted damned realist ever to cross my trail. She swallowed her ego. "I see." She made Willa Dount look like a kitten. She took time out for more reflection. Then, "What do you plan to do, Mr. Garrett?"

  "I'd like to interview your husband and Willa Dount in circumstances where they can't evade questions or avoid answering them."

  "It can be arranged. When?"

  "The sooner the better. Today. Now. That old man with the black sword has been busy enough. Let's not give him time to sniff out anybody else." Old Death is supposed to be blind but I've noticed he never misses.

  "That's probably wisest. How do you want to set it up?"

  We talked about it for fifteen minutes. I said I'd play it by ear, making sure she understood I wanted to be given my head. Then she rose. "I'll have the bodies taken away now, Mr. Garrett."

  "Out the back would be best. They're supposed to have been cremated already. Nobody outside this house knows they haven't been."

  "I understand."

  I followed her to the front door, where she paused before she allowed me to let her out. "Take very good care of my daughter, Mr. Garrett. She may be all that I have left."

  "I intend to, Stormwarden."

  We locked gazes for a moment. We understood one another.

  It is a pitiful truth that people like Raver Styx cannot express their love in any way that their beloved will find meaningful.

  ______XLVI______

  The door shut. I leaned against it and let out a long, heartfe
lt sigh of relief. I shook for about a minute while the tension drained away. I wanted to let out a big old war whoop. Saucerhead leaned out of the kitchen. "She finally go?"

  "Finally."

  He counted my arms and legs. "Guess you worked something out."

  "Yeah. We'll see how it stays together."

  "What's the game?"

  "First thing is, some of her boys are going to come to the back door to pick up those bodies. You guys can hand them over. I'm going to set a fire under the Dead Man."

  Saucerhead gave me a dirty look, grumbling about "them that puts on aristocratic airs," but he went and got Sadler and Crask. I waited while they removed the corpses.

  There, now. That was not so bad after all, was it, Garrett?

  "A snap. So why the hell are you sweating?"

  That startled him. I could almost see him checking to see if, by some miracle, some of life's processes had resumed. Point for Garrett.

  "You had some kind of epiphany while I was talking to her. What was it?"

  I realized that by taking a short trip upcountry you could probably put the cap on the affair. He was all set to do some crowing about his genius.

  "You mean by going out to that farm and rounding up Donni Pell?"

  You reasoned it out!

  "You've been telling me I have to use my own head.

  Using yours is too much like work. All the kingpin's hounds and all the kingpin's men couldn't catch more than a few whiffs of old back trails. She'd used up her friends here in town. Where else would she go?"

  Very good. Though we do rely on the assumption that she has not taken the proceeds of her multifarious treacheries and gotten herself somewhere where she can become a new and possibly even respectable person.

  "I don't think she has the sense or character to make the clean break. If she did, she would've gotten out days ago."

  You are going to return to that farm?