Cold Copper Tears gf-3

by Glen Cook

  It's Hell on earth for those who survive that way, used and abused and discarded the instant they lose their marketability. For those who haven't been to the underside and haven't lived with the ticks on society's underbelly, it's difficult to believe people will use each other so badly.

  Believe me, there are people out there who'll destroy a hundred lives for pocket change and never know a moment's remorse. Who wouldn't, in fact, understand if you told them they'd done something wrong by addicting a twelve-year-old so she'd cooperate as a thirty-a-day flat-backer.

  They understand "against the laws of Man" but not "against the law of humanity." Right is whatever you make it, for as long as you can make it last.

  They're out there. And they're the real bogeymen.

  And through those mean streets walks a lonely man, a solitary knight-errant, the last honorable man, bent but not broken by the lowering storm...

  Boy! Pile it on like that and I might have a future as a street-corner prophet—complete with all the kicks in the teeth that implies.

  People don't want to be told to do right. They don't really want to do right. They want to do whatever they want—and whine that it's not fair, it's not their fault, when it comes time to pay the piper.

  There are times when I don't care much for my brothers and sisters, when I'd gladly see half of them buried alive.

  I don't go into my high holy mode too often, but a trip to the Tenderloin gets me every time.

  So much that goes on there is unnecessary. In many cases neither the exploiters nor the exploited need to be doing what they do to survive. TunFaire is a prosperous city. Because of the war with the Venageti and Karenta's successes in it, there's work for anyone who wants it. And honest jobs go begging until nonhuman migrants come to the city to fill them.

  A century ago nonhumans were curiosities, seldom seen, more the stuff of legend than real. Now they make up half the population and the bloods are becoming inextricably mixed. For real excitement wait until the war is over and the armies disband and all the war-related jobs dry up.

  I'll step down off my box with the observation that, hell though the Tenderloin is, and as vile, vicious, or degraded as its habitues may be, most have some choice about being there.

  "Garrett."

  I think I jumped about four feet high because my sense of survival had gone into hibernation. I came down so ready for trouble I had the shakes. "Maya! What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Waiting for you. I figured you'd come this way."

  Was the little witch turning into a mind reader? "You didn't say why." I knew why, though.

  "We're partners, remember? We're looking for somebody. And there's some places a man isn't going to get into no matter what he tries."

  "You get hiking right back home. I'm going into the Tenderloin. That's no place for—"

  "Garrett, shut your mouth and look at me. Am I nine years old and fresh out of a convent?''

  She was right. But that didn't make me like it, or incline me to change my mind. It's weird how the symptoms of fatherhood had set in. But damn it, Maya out of her sleaze ball duds and chuko colors wasn't anybody's little girl. She was a woman and it was obvious.

  And that was maybe two-thirds of my problem. "All right. You want to stick your neck out, come on."

  She joined me, wearing a smug smile filled with good teeth.

  I said, "You snuck up on me, you know. You grew up. I can't help remembering the filthy brat I found beat to hell all those years ago."

  She grinned and slipped her arm through mine. "I didn't sneak, Garrett. I took my time and did it right. I knew you'd wait for me."

  Whoa! Who was talking shit to who here?

  Maya laughed. "If we're going to do it, let's go."

  37

  To understand the Tenderloin—to even picture it if you've never been there—you have to get in touch with the seamiest side of yourself. Pick a fantasy, one you wouldn't tell anyone about. One that makes you uncomfortable or embarrassed when you think about it. In the Tenderloin there's somebody who'll do it with you, for you, or to you, or somebody who'll let you watch if that's your need.

  Let your imagination run away. You can't think of anything somebody hasn't thought and done already. Hell, somebody's thought of something even more disgusting. And it's all available there in Wonderland. And not just sex, though that's the first thing that jumps to mind.

  At that time of day, late afternoon, most of the Tenderloin was just waking up. The district worked around the clock, but the majority of its patrons were like insects who shun the light. The district wouldn't get white-hot until after sunset.

  I asked Maya, "You been down here before?"

  "Never with a gentleman." She laughed.

  I tried to scowl but her constant good humor was catching. I smiled.

  "Sure," she said. "One of our favorite games. Come down here and watch the freaks. Maybe roll a drunk or kick the shit out of a pimp. We got up to lots of stuff. Most of the people who come here don't dare complain."

  "You know how dangerous that is?" The people of the Tenderloin are solicitous of their customers.

  She gave me the look the young save for old farts who say dumb things. "What did we have to lose?"

  Only their lives. But kids are immortal and invulnerable. Just ask them.

  It wasn't yet dark but we had plenty of company on the outer fringe, where the offerings are relatively tame. Gentlemen were window shopping, barkers were barking, my angels were lurking, and a dozen prepubescent boys were trying to mooch copper. When I turned one down he took a big pinch of Maya's bottom and ran off. I roared in outrage, as I was suppose to do, and took a step after the brat, then the humor hit me. "You're on the other side now, sweetheart. You're one of the grown-ups."

  "It hurts, Garrett."

  I laughed.

  "You bastard! Why don't you kiss it better?"

  There in the tamer parts the houses display their wares in big bay windows. I couldn't help admiring what I saw.

  "You're drooling, you old goat."

  I probably was but I denied it.

  "What's she got that I don't?" she demanded half a minute later. And I couldn't answer that one. The delicacy in question was younger than she and no prettier, but provocative as hell.

  I needed blinders. My weakness was getting me into deep shit.

  "There she is."

  "Huh? Who? Where?"

  Maya gave me a nasty look. "What do you mean, who? Who the hell are we looking for?"

  "Take it easy. Where did you see her?" Grow up a little, Garrett. You got somebody's feelings to consider.

  "Right up ahead. About a block."

  Her eyes were better than mine if she could pick somebody out of the crowd at that distance.

  I caught a glimpse of blonde hair in a familiar style. "Come on!"

  We hurried. I tried to keep that hair in sight. It vanished, reappeared, vanished, reappeared. We gained ground. The hair disappeared in the swirl near the entrance to a "theater" just opening for the first show. And it didn't reappear.

  I was as sure as Maya that we'd spotted Jill.

  I tried asking questions of the theater's barker. He was a lean whippet of a man, hide tanned from exposure to the weather. He didn't look like a nice guy. He looked at me and saw something he didn't like, either. The promise of five marks silver got me a look of contempt. This guy not only didn't know anything about any blonde, he'd forgotten how to talk.

  Maya pulled me away before I tried to squeeze something out of him. One must be careful putting the arm on the help in the Tenderloin. They hang together like grapes, them against the world. "Next time how about I do the talking?" she said. "Even these jaded apes will listen to me."

  They would, just to spite me. "All right. Let's go across the street and sit and give this a think." The Tenderloin does boast a few amenities absent from the rest of the city, like street-side loos and public benches. Anywhere else benches would get busted up for firewood
and loos kicked down for the hell of it. Here the busters themselves would get broken up for kindling before they got done with their fun.

  The organization has no patience with people who cost it money.

  We went across. We sat. I considered the area and my options while Maya turned away offers by explaining that she was engaged. "Although," she told one would-be swain, "I might be able to shake this old guy later."

  "Maya!"

  "What do you care, Garrett? You're not interested. He looked like he might know how to have a good time."

  Damn them all! I swear, before they let them go into puberty, they make them sign a contract in blood saying they'll cause us all the aggravation they can. "Give me a break, Maya. At least give me a chance to get used to the idea of you being a woman."

  That put a smug look on her face. She chalked up six points for Maya on her secret scoreboard.

  The majority of nearby businesses catered to spectators rather than participants. My stomach did a little growl and knot at the thought of Jill Craight starring in one of those shows.

  Nothing is impossible, of course. I just didn't like it.

  I didn't have much trouble believing it. The woman obviously had mental problems. I could see her making the kinds of connections that would convince her she was fit for nothing else. The human mind does weird things.

  What amazes me is that we manage to cope as well as we do, that the race not only survives but manages to make the occasional stumbling advance. Maybe there is a force greater than ourselves, an engine driving us toward greatness.

  It would be comforting to know my species is destined for something that will outshine its past and present. The Church, the Orthodox sects, all the Hanite cults and factions and denominations, offer that hope, but they've surrounded it with so much bullshit and in so many cases have given in to worldly temptations which act against the hope, that they've forfeited any right to guide us toward the brighter day.

  Maya snuggled a little closer, as though the evening breeze had begun to bite. "What're you brooding about, Garrett?"

  "The Sons of Hammon as a committed entropic force, convinced that our proper destiny is oblivion."

  She leaned back and looked me in the eye. "You trying to shit me? Or are you just talking dirty?"

  "No." I started to explain. After a minute she snuggled up again, got hold of my hands, and rested her cheek on my shoulder. She grunted in the right places to show she was listening. I'm sure we made a touching picture.

  After a bit I said, "We got to get our minds back on business." I had to anyway. The little witch was getting to me. "You know anything about this area?"

  "There's a lot of freaks."

  I didn't need to be told that. I have pretty fair eyesight.

  Six of the nearer buildings hosted live shows. Several more were havens for those who provided special services. A few seemed to be genuine residential hotels. And there was one place I couldn't pin down at all.

  It had no barker. It had no sign. It had no heavy traffic, but in the time we'd been sitting, five men and a woman had entered the place. Four had come out. Only one had shown the furtiveness which characterizes a move toward an act considered perverse. Those who had come out had looked pleased and relaxed, relieved, but not in the way the sexually sated do.

  "What about that place?" I pointed. "Know it?"

  "No."

  Curiosity had a hold of me. A lamplighter was working his way toward us, pushing his cartload of scented oils from post to post, topping things up and lighting the parti-colored lights that lend Tenderloin evenings a sleazy mask of carnival. When he stopped at the lamppost at the end of the bench I opened my mouth to ask about the place that intrigued me.

  Maya elbowed me in the ribs. "My turn, remember?"

  She got up.

  It must be something they get in their mother's milk. I've never seen a woman yet who couldn't turn on the heat when she wanted. She whispered. The lamplighter's eyes took fire without help from his match. He nodded. She touched him over the heart and let her fingertips slide over a half foot of his jacket. He grinned and looked at the place that caught my eye. Then he saw the deaf barker looking daggers his way.

  He ran out of words before he spoke. He turned stupider than an ox. I told Maya, "I'm getting irritated. Let's go."

  I got up, took her hand, headed for the entrance to the curious place.

  The barker saw my intent and abandoned his post. He hustled up the street, planted himself in my path. I told him, "Friend, you're getting on my nerves. In about two seconds I'm going to break your leg."

  He grinned like he hoped I'd try. Maya said, "Garrett, be careful."

  I looked around. Half a dozen natives were closing in. They looked like they'd been deprived of the pleasure of stomping somebody for a long time. But my angels were moving in behind them, and Saucerhead was leading the pack. He could handle this bunch by himself. I told the barker, "Move it or lose it, Bruno."

  "You asked for it. Take him."

  Saucerhead smacked a couple of heads together. Wedge cracked a couple more with a club. The barker's eyes got big. I asked, "You ready to move?"

  Saucerhead said, "Garrett, you got to quit this crap. You're going to start a riot."

  The barker's eyes popped. He had a nasty suspicion. "You the Garrett that works for Chodo?" He stepped out of the way. "Why didn't you say so?"

  Saucerhead rumbled. "Yeah, Garrett. Why didn't you say so?"

  "Because I don't care what Chodo claims, I don't work for him. I work for me." I had to keep that point clear for my own peace of mind.

  The barker said, "You understand, I didn't know you was working for Chodo. We get all kinds down here. I wouldn't of give you no shit if you'd told me."

  It was going to be a long fight, shaking loose from that tie. "Look, all I want to do is go in there and see what goes on."

  The barker said, "You was asking about some blonde bitch. What you want to know? If I can help …"

  And Saucerhead, at the same time, said, "I come down here to tell you Morley needs to see you. Says he got some news for you."

  "Good for Morley. If you'll all excuse me?" I pushed past the barker and headed inside. Maya stuck close and kept her mouth shut. Good for her, too.

  38

  The door to the place was unlocked. Maybe it couldn't be locked. It sagged in its frame. Inside there was a scrawny old guy in a rickety chair shoving sticks into a stove. It was hot enough to broil steaks but he was grumbling about the cold. He was one giant liver spot. "Drop it on the counter," he said, not bothering to look up.

  "What?"

  He looked, then. At me, then at Maya. His brushy white eyebrows wormed around. "You together?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, whatever. Have to charge you. Six marks silver. First time? Take any box where the curtain is open. You don't like what you get, you can move once on the house. You still ain't satisfied, it's another mark every move until you light."

  I put the money down. He went back to feeding the fire. Maya gave me a puzzled look. I shrugged and stepped up to a curtained doorway.

  It opened to reveal a long hallway. A half-dozen curtained alcoves opened to either side. Four had their curtains drawn. We walked down the hall and back. I heard soft voices behind the drawn curtains. Where the curtains were open there was nothing but a chair and a table pushed against a wall of glass. There was nothing behind the glass but darkness.

  "What is this place, Garrett?"

  "I guess if you have to ask you don't belong here." I led her into the nearest open room and drew the curtain. The place was five feet deep by six wide and very dark with the curtain closed. I felt for what looked like a pull cord and gave it a tug. Bells tinkled somewhere overhead, muted. A light appeared high on the other side of the glass.

  A well-dressed and impossibly beautiful woman came down a spiral staircase into an eight by twelve room that might have been a lady's bedroom transported from the Hill. It was a set, obvious
ly, but just as obviously perfect in every detail.

  "Garrett," Maya whispered, "that woman isn't human. She's pure high elf."

  I saw it but I didn't believe it. Who ever heard of an elfish whore? But Maya had it right. She was elfish, and so damned beautiful she hurt my eyes.

  She began to undress as though unaware that she was being observed, pulled a chair up to a table facing the glass from the far side, then sat in her under things. She began removing makeup slowly. The glass must be a mirror on her side.

  Maya pinched me. "Stop panting. You'll fog the glass."

  The elfish woman heard something. She cocked her head quizzically. She asked, "Is someone there?"

  That was a voice men could kill for. I didn't know her from dog food. I like to think I'm as hard-nosed a cynic as they make, but I had no problem imagining that silver-bells whisper on my pillow, sending me whooping through the teeth of Hell.

  She stood up and slipped out of another layer of clothing.

  Maya said, "I'm not going to ask what this one has that I don't." She sounded awed.

  I was petrified.

  "Is someone there?" she asked again.

  I reached out and touched the glass. A sound-permeable glass that could be seen through from one side only? Someone had invested heavily in some very specialized designer sorcery. And I could see the touch of genius in it. This mundane bit of voyeurism and pretense was a hundred times as erotic as any crude stage coupling of women with one another, nonhumans, apes, or zebras. And the main reason was the natural talent of the woman behind the glass. She turned every move into something ripped out of a blazing fantasy.

  She touched the glass where my fingertips rested. "That's all right. You don't have to talk if you don't want." It felt like my fingers were pressed to a grill.

  I wanted. I wanted desperately. I was in love. And I was as tongue-tied as a twelve-year-old with designs on someone Maya's age.