Cruel Zinc Melodies

by Glen Cook

  “Why’s that? And what took so long?”

  “It takes a troll time to sneak, Garrett. And I didn’t want them to know I was listening.”

  “Tell me.” I sensed a disappointment coming on.

  “They were talking about how to fix things up after they move in. And how to clean out the mess. And where they could sell some of the stuff that’s lying around down there.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Evidently they’d had no trouble with the stuff that had frightened me. But, then, Kip and the kids had had plenty of time to change the whole lay of the underground land.

  “Glassware. All kinds. And funny tools. And stuff.”

  I muttered. I grumbled. I groaned. That would be the Faction’s laboratory stuff.

  Belle or Saucerhead or somebody had suggested, in passing, flooding the down below. I spent a few seconds wondering about how I could get the water.

  There would be difficulties. The neighbors would be disgruntled. And wouldn’t be understanding. Unless they had unwanted big-ass bugs in their own secret basements.

  Reassured about the Grinblatts, I went back inside the World. Rocky filled me in on what he’d overheard as we walked.

  Rindt Grinblatt had talked himself into thinking that he’d stumbled across the pot at the end.

  Friend Rindt was due some disappointment.

  59

  I snapped, “I swear by all the gods that ever infested this damned city, you people just flat refuse to be satisfied.”

  John Stretch’s henchrats and Luther’s workmen alike complained constantly about the cold. “Anybody see any ghosts?”

  Headshakes.

  “And there you go. Stop whining. Get back to work.”

  Shivering, John Stretch told me, “We have seen no bugs for a while, either, Garrett.”

  “Excellent! Wow! Look at me. Making good things happen.” I turned slightly. “So what do you want?”

  Morley looked offended. He said, “I hope your bark is worse than your bite.”

  “Sorry. Getting tired of people who whine all the time.”

  He flashed a mocking smile. “I came to say we found a perfect venue. Thanks for the idea. When the new place is up, dinner is on the house. Whenever you want.”

  “Wow.” I smacked the crankiness down, tied it up wiggling and squealing in a mental bag that wouldn’t hold it long. I pasted on a smile that probably looked like I’d borrowed it off a corpse. “Great. Good for you. Did you catch Lurking Felhske and turn him in for the reward?”

  “No.” Puzzled.

  “Then how can you finance a new shop?” He’d been desperate as recently as yesterday.

  “I found an angel who likes the idea better than I do.”

  Interesting. I tossed up an inquisitorial eyebrow.

  Which he ignored like a pregnant girlfriend.

  The question had to be answered sometime.

  John Stretch coughed. He wanted my attention back. He said, “The bugs are sluggish down there now.”

  “You just told me?”

  “Meaning they are not attacking anymore. The rats tell of a steady wind bringing hot air up and pulling cold air in behind. They have found many kinds of grubs and pupae. The grubs have distracted them. They keep stopping to eat.”

  “That’s not bad. Let them get fat.”

  “Trouble,” Morley whispered, looking over my shoulder.

  I turned.

  Barate Algarda had invited himself into the World. And he’d brought a date. She was a pale wisp of a woman, five feet ten, thin as a starveling elf, going maybe a hundred pounds with gear and hair included.

  That hung to her waist in streamers and fanciful braids. It was blond, so pale that in the available light it looked white. Her eyes were implausibly large and blue.

  So heavily was she bundled that I feared she might be even more insubstantial than I first thought.

  Furious Tide of Light. Sorceress of the most dangerous sort.

  Had to be.

  But such a forlorn waif...

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  I was not unique. Every man in the place felt it. Morley’s breathing became labored, like he had run a long way to get here in time to embarrass himself.

  Despite the magnetism, at first I figured she couldn’t be more than thirteen. She had no apparent figure.

  But she had a daughter older than that. I needed to remember that.

  I lost the color of her eyes as she considered the chaos inside the World. But I felt them. Like I’d felt the eyes of great, deadly snakes when I was in the islands. When I caught it again they seemed to be green.

  Saucerhead and several of his thugs materialized behind the couple. He gave me an inquiring look. I had no answer. I just shrugged.

  Algarda headed my way after a pause for effect. Arrogantly confident. His companion followed a step behind and one to his left, letting him shield her. Despite his breathing difficulties Morley managed to drift away so he could get a clear line of sight. Carefully, not knowing who these people were but recognizing what.

  Whatever their physical appearance, they have a distinctive smell, our Lords off the Hill.

  I gulped some air. Then glanced aside. That gave my mind an opportunity to reengage.

  I turned back. The frail frail had aged precipitously. Now she was a woman my age fighting a desperate rearguard action against conquering time. Her eyes were violet and my hunger wasn’t any less wicked.

  There’s a puzzle for the great minds. How come one woman can inspire ferocious, unreasoning desire while another, virtually identical...

  Never mind. That’s a mug’s game. If, by some wild chance, the boffins did find an answer, women would change the question.

  The Dead Man would, no doubt, go on about unconscious cues presented by the personalities inside. Meaning that the same body, occupied by different souls, would conjure different responses.

  Furious Tide of Light absolutely reeked of “Come and get it like you’ve only ever imagined getting it before.” She could fog the minds of those statues of forgotten Karentine heroes that infest the government part of town. She might even make Max Weider glad that he’d lived long enough to meet her.

  What caused an insecurity so deep that a girl needed to wrap herself up in an aura that powerful?

  Strategically positioned between the Windwalker and me, Algarda looked around. He learned what he wanted to know in an instant. He told me, “The Windwalker promised your partner she’d help undo the mischief Kevans loosed down here.”

  “Really?” My recollection was, Kevans was behind the compliance device, not the robust bugs. With drool dripping as I tried to ignore the Windwalker.

  For once the gods were not cruel. Tinnie was somewhere else.

  A damned good thing there were witnesses. None of them more smitten than I.

  Not even my best pal.

  Furious Tide of Light had a characteristic I’d noted before in women who have that smack-in-the-chops impact. She didn’t know what she was doing, which meant she didn’t pay attention. I had a feeling she really didn’t know much about the interplay between men and women. Maybe because she’d never had time for anything but what helped her become Furious Tide of Light.

  Tinnie might ask, if she was so damned naive, why did she dress like that? Pointing out that the woman was bundled against the weather would be a waste. The argument would become something about her using witchcraft to inspire the response she did. At which point I would meticulously fail to declare that the entire female subspecies practices that same black magic. Some just get blessed with a bigger ration. Some were maybe behind the door when it got passed out. Or didn’t get in line. But it’s there in most of them, making sure there'll be future generations.

  Which thinking didn’t get on with finding out why the Dead Man had sent these people to join me. “Let’s step aside so we can talk.”

  The Windwalker appeared to be considering the World as though it was something she was drea
ming. She reached out to touch a curious ghost.

  60

  Distracted, I’d let the spooks slide out of awareness. Now I noted that all the nearer shapeless glimmers were moving in on the Windwalker.

  Curious.

  The woman said something so softly I couldn’t catch it. Barate Algarda didn’t seem concerned. “Your partner being what he is, I’m sure you know the situation in our household. Try not to let your prejudices get in the way.”

  What the hell did that mean? I started to ask. His expression stopped me. We weren’t going to talk about it. Over my dead body, if necessary.

  I’ve had plenty of practice not judging my clients. The people I have to work with, or for! “I can do that.”

  “Good. We understand that Kevans is involved in...” He lost focus. A ghost had captured his attention. The Windwalker fixed on that same apparition. A pseudopod of shimmer reached toward her.

  The Windwalker looked up at Barate Algarda with a big, glowing smile. She eased over against him, slipped an arm around his waist, hugged. He responded in kind.

  They saw the same thing. And it made them happy.

  The Windwalker shed a decade, or more, becoming the adolescent I’d thought I saw when she showed up. She could give Belle Chimes lessons. She bounced with youthful excitement. Algarda grinned, pleased. She extended her hand to the ghost. Algarda reached out, too.

  For more than a minute father and daughter looked as content and happy as two human beings can be.

  Their happiness conjured its object ever more clearly. The ghost assumed a form that I could make out, a woman who looked a lot like the Windwalker.

  I struggled to disbelieve. I couldn’t let them pull me into their fantasy.

  Work stopped. Everyone stared at the odd couple and their ghost, which had acquired substance. It joined hands with Algarda and his daughter. Those two acted like they had hold of something real.

  Talking to myself, I muttered something about it might just be possible that my own personal freelance necromancer ought to commence to begin to explain what the hell was going on. Unfortunately, Belle Chimes was too far away to hear me croak.

  Weirdness squared. The Algardas had themselves a happy ghost. Unlike all us morally upright twits who ran away from what our secret hearts conjured.

  All right. They’d called up his wife and her mother. For both it was a reunion so sweet they welcomed the world to join them.

  As their special ghost gained life and definition, the other shimmers faded.

  Their ghost began to lose color. In a single minute it diminished till it was just another misty shimmer.

  Neither Algarda nor his daughter seemed disappointed. The woman, in fact, had come to life. She was attentive and interested but had nothing to say.

  Algarda said, “That was intriguing. Kevans really was involved in raising these create-your-own-specter things?”

  “Presumably. If you visited my partner you should know as much as I do. Or more. He doesn’t share his speculations with me.”

  Algarda told me what they knew. That didn’t include the compliance device.

  I explained what I was up to today. My goal being to get construction back on schedule. Said schedule having suffered ferociously because of the Faction.

  Unintended consequences.

  I didn’t mention the compliance device, either. We had excitement enough.

  The Windwalker touched Algarda’s arm. He bent so she could whisper. Was she crippled by shyness? That would make her unique. Hill people aren’t bashful. Most have ego enough for a clutch of kings.

  I filed her timidity under “Be wary!”

  There would be a lot of power there. Otherwise, she’d never have been invited into the senior caste.

  I wasn’t yet clear on what made a Windwalker special. I did know that what you don’t know can kill you quicker than the devil you go to bed with every night.

  Algarda said, “Having unskilled people down there might be counterproductive.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You sent dwarves down.”

  “I did. To explore. Not to do anything else. Except get rid of any giant bugs they run into. Seemed like the sort of work dwarves are made for.”

  “Underground? Indeed. But what damage are they likely to do? In their ignorance and arrogance.”

  “We’re all going to do some damage. In our ignorance. Because nobody knows what’s down there. Which is why some people accustomed to living underground are doing the poking around.”

  “My point, sir. We don’t know. Best guess would be, the thing down there is just stirring in its sleep.”

  “Sure.” My sources all agreed.

  “So suppose you wake it all the way up? And it’s as cranky as you are when they make you roll out before you’re ready.”

  Who had been poking around inside whose head, back at the house? “I’m open to suggestions. Remembering that my job is to get this place slapped together with as little trouble as I can manage.”

  New trouble, however, had arrived already. In the form of that frail blonde. All work had stopped. The roofers had come inside to check her out. Most of the men didn’t pretend to do anything but drool.

  “Hang on a minute.” I moved over to Belle Chimes. Another stricken zombie. “Bill, wake up. Pull your eyes in. Pass this word. She’s off the Hill. Out of the inner circle.” I didn’t know that but it sounded good. And it for sure got his attention. He got those eyes they say are big as saucers. “Goes by Furious Tide of Light.” All making the point that she was someone you didn’t want to irritate. Which Belle seemed to have gotten in spades. He flat-out turned scared.

  Interesting.

  The effect was salutary once Belle started whispering. Though the workmen did not deny themselves the occasional hungry look.

  Saucerhead proved himself smarter than he looked. “I got a fire going in the shack now, Garrett. You might take these folks out there. Be easier on everybody.”

  61

  We decided that Barate Algarda and his daughter should follow the trail blazed by Rocky and the dwarves. They would go poke around the Faction clubhouse. They would evict the dwarves unless Rindt Grinblatt could show that he had done something especially useful.

  They headed for the abandoned house, needing no guide. I stood around enjoying the fact that the snowfall consisted of fat, random globs that were not accumulating. If this kept up I shouldn’t have to do any shoveling.

  Most excellent.

  “You have no idea how lucky you are,” Morley Dotes told me. As I considered Furious Tide of Light through the aforementioned random flakes.

  “Sir?”

  “If Tinnie saw you come out of that shack, with that woman, with that look on your face...”

  “That woman, with her father right there?”

  “You honestly think that would make a difference?”

  “Maybe.” If a brace of nuns had been in there, too. “She’s growing up. We both are.” Me whistling past the graveyard.

  He gazed the direction I did. “Pity I’m single. Pity you’re not.”

  He must not have gotten the word. “You know who she is?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to scare me off by telling me.”

  “She goes by Furious Tide of Light.”

  It took a second. People off the Hill seldom cross his path as objects of amorous intent.

  Him turning off the interest was like a lantern damping down. “You had to tell me.”

  “You’re my bestest pal. I don’t want to see you turned into a big old hairy-ass hoppy toad.”

  “You had to tell me. So. Why is a Hill-type bundle of heat getting heads-together with you?”

  “She has a daughter. A teenager. One of the kids whose experiments blessed us with the giant bugs.” There weren’t any of those around right then. “She wants to make sure the kid is covered.”

  “Typical.” He frowned at something behind me. I heard the measured clop-clop of a team approachin
g, along with the rattle of iron rims on cobblestones.

  I turned mainly because Morley looked like he dearly hoped I wouldn’t.

  I knew that big black coach. I’d ridden in it. I recognized the men up there on the driver’s seat. I didn’t know the footmen running at the corners but I knew their type. “Now, what would she be doing here?”

  “She,” being Belinda Contague.

  Belinda was not a complication I needed. Ever, anymore.

  Belinda didn’t necessarily share my attitude.

  It can be tough to argue with Miss Contague.

  Morley isn’t often at a loss for words. He made an exception now. He stumbled around, hunting for a plausible answer. Failed. Decided to try the truth. “She’s my angel. She’s providing my financing.”

  “You know what you’re doing?” Getting involved with the Contagues wouldn’t bolster his reputation. His places have always been neutral territory. Whoever you are, whatever your associations or alliances, you don’t have to worry about your back. Morley will watch it.

  “I hope so, Garrett. It’s supposed to be a straight-up deal. Front money for forty percent of the net. If word doesn’t get around I can keep it the way it’s always been.”

  He wasn’t convinced, though. He could see what I saw. Right here, right now, there were nine people who knew something was up. I could trust me not to speculate with my friends. But how about those footmen and the guys up on the coach? What about the dark lady herself?

  How many times had Belinda tried to make it look like I’d sold out and was on the Outfit’s payroll?

  Only plus I could see was, Belinda had no reason to cut Morley down. She saw a chance to get a piece of a lucrative business.

  Hell, I could see a whole row of small businesses popping up if the World itself took off.

  If, maybe, Heather Soames came up with some stage talent that wasn’t all amateur wannabe.

  No point me going on at Morley about it. He’d still be busy debating with himself.

  I couldn’t fathom his reasoning. Unless he was in truly bad odor with his debts everywhere else. He’d explain. Someday. Maybe.

  Belinda Contague descended from the coach. She was beautiful, her skin pale as death, her lips painted scarlet, her hair uncovered, black and glossy as a raven’s wing. The rest couldn’t be cataloged because she was in winter dress. But, believe me, it was outstanding. I’d seen it all. And still regretted my weakness.