Cruel Zinc Melodies

by Glen Cook

  Inspiration. “Did he drool a lot? Have one fang kind of twisted? Talked with a lisp because of what would be called a harelip if he was human?”

  “Member of your family?”

  “Not yet. Just an acquaintance. From afar. I doubt if he knows me. And I doubt if he’s really a red cap. He’d be Urban Jack Tick-Tack. Real name, Capricious Moon. He’s in the same line as Saucerhead, only up the Hill.”

  “Urban Jack? Tick-Tack?”

  “I don’t know.” I preened. It isn’t often that I know something about the lice on the belly of the body politic that my friends don’t. “Where do nicknames come from?”

  “My guess is, there’s a crippled little god somewhere, sitting in his playpen, who thinks them up and slides them into people’s heads when they’re squatting on the chamber pot.”

  My mixed grill came, redolent of garlic and ginger. I dug in. It was good. Morley could tell I liked it. He was smug. He told me, “Singe and I did still give it one last half-ass try. Because I don’t let anyone push.”

  “Singe, too?”

  “My mistake. I know. I shouldn’t have involved her. She decided she can’t track him anymore, anyway. She says he took a bath.”

  “Gods! Good. If anybody ever needed one...”

  “She didn’t mean a literal soap and water bath, Garrett. Though he did that, too.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I suppose. Why?”

  “Somebody wants Lurking Felhske even farther on the down low.”

  Dotes raised an eyebrow almost as fetchingly as I do.

  “He wouldn’t notice his own stench. Guys with the big body odor just don’t. They live with it. Right? So somebody clued him in, convinced him, and added a little magic.”

  “And then sent a thug around to reason with people who might go looking for him?”

  “Seems plausible to me.” I recalled an unexplained pounding on my door this morning. Any connection?

  Old Bones hadn’t seen fit to report. Assuming he’d been paying attention at all. There were times he didn’t. More and more frequently, lately.

  He’d been aware enough to nag me.

  “You lost in there, Garrett?”

  “Some. Things started out bone simple. I had what looked like a protection play shaping. With a bug complication. I took care of the extortion and I got the bug thing under control. But one damned thing keeps leading to another. Now...” Now I seemed to be getting caught up in something barely even tangentially connected with the World. People involved in other things kept doing things that made getting on with completing the theater difficult.

  Morley said, “On a brighter note, we'll start work on the new place as soon as the weather clears. We'll be selling lunch to your workmen by the end of the month. How can I get hold of that Rockpile person?”

  I told him. Then said, “I’m not gonna get home as early as I thought.”

  Morley hoisted his eyebrow again.

  “I’m getting a glimmer of something. Like one of those ghosts when it just starts forming.” Forgetting that he couldn’t see them. “I’m thinking Saucerhead might have the answer. Without knowing he has it.”

  “I hope that ratty coat is warmer than it looks.” Said with the smirking smile he reserves for when he sticks in the needle.

  I gave him my best hard eye. It ricocheted off. I put a few coins on the table and left.

  86

  Saucerhead and the others were still inside the World but huddled up close to the door so they wouldn’t have far to run if they decided to make a quick getaway.

  “Ghosts back, Head?”

  “Yeah. Sort of. One or two.”

  “But they haven’t bothered you?”

  “Not yet. So far they’re only interested in that case of yours. But that could change.”

  “Excellent! I’m so smart! I don’t think you have to worry.”

  Tharpe’s expression told me he was keeping a lid on his opinion only because I was the Keeper of the Coins.

  I told him, “I came by to find out what you know about Urban Jack Tick-Tack. Since you know everybody.”

  The crowd stared at me like I’d sprouted horns.

  “Ultimate badass bonebreaker, Garrett. You don’t want to mess with him. But you don’t need to worry. He only works for rich people. Just don’t piss Weider off so much he wants to crunch you. Hell. How come you’re asking? Just curious. On account of, Tick-Tack himself was here only about an hour ago.”

  “What? No way.”

  “Way. You can’t imagine how big he is.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say. He just strolled in and started looking around. Soon as he seen all of us watching he took off.”

  “Been any rumors about him lately? Head? Anybody?”” Been keeping a low profile. Any of you guys heard anything? See?”

  “That’s really what I expected. I guess I’m as warm as I’m going to get here. Oh. I figure the workmen will be back tomorrow.”

  “We got that word, maybe twenty minutes ago. Message signed by Director Relway himself. These guys are supposed to hang around and keep an eye out in case of developments.”

  Damn! The prince moved fast. “That’s good, then.” I stopped by my cases and mumbled a bit before I plunged into the great white.

  There wasn’t much light left. I decided to use what there was to check out the Faction clubhouse, see how busy they’d been cleaning up.

  There were tracks around the steps, most going in, a few coming out. This deserved closer examination.

  As I started a little voice chirped, “Mr. Garrett? Is that you?”

  Took me a few seconds to locate her. “Mindie? Mindie Grinblatt? What are you doing here?”

  “We were watching the place down under there for Mr. Algarda. He hired Daddy to keep people out. We would get to live there. But a little while ago this monster came. Daddy told me to get around behind it, then climb the stairs and get away. So I did. But he didn’t tell me what to do after I got out. So I’ve just been waiting. And I’m getting worried. Mama and Daddy haven’t come up to tell me it’s all right.”

  Oh boy! ODTAA for sure.

  I considered options. Most involved me going somewhere else and staying out of the way while natural dwarfish resilience took place. It would take some managing to best the Grinblatts in tight quarters underground.

  But Mindie did say that a monster had come.

  “Tell me about the monster. What was it? How big?”

  “I don’t know. Really big. I just saw tusks and a lot of hair. Or maybe it was wearing a fur coat.”

  Not good. Played right into the conspiracy theory I was developing.

  “That’s good. You’re doing good so far. Here’s what we'll do. You give me your ax and your sword and your shield?”

  “But then I won’t have anything....”

  “You'll still have your other sword, your daggers, your truncheon, your boots, your teeth, and anything you’ve got for your trousseau. You'll only have to go a couple of blocks.... Good girl. Let me see how that helmet fits, too.”

  It was loose. A little dwarf girl’s dress-up hat.

  “All right. I’m going down and see about your mom and dad. I want you to run to the World. The big building where you saw me the first time. Tell a man named Saucerhead what happened and what I’m doing. Got that?”

  She nodded. Hitched her breeches. Dug something out of somewhere. “You'll need these.” She handed me a couple of warm blond stones the size and shape of chestnuts. They were so smooth they felt oily. And they glowed like feeble candlelight. “Moonstones. There’s a little light left in them. Take care of my stuff.” And off she went, no longer troubled.

  Of course. It was all on me now.

  I fumbled one of the stones, but could see it through the snow. I made sure I got it back. Mindie wanted me to take care of her stuff. I shoved both stones into a right-hand side pocket of the beaver coat. Clumsily.

  I
was trying to manage a clutch of edged weapons. Even the shield had its sharp sides. I needed to be careful.

  It got dark fast under the house. But, on the plus side, there was no wind.

  I had a stroke of smarts. Brought out one of Mindie’s stones. Dull, creamy light, like the light of a full moon that’s gotten just high enough to have lost its autumn orange. Excellent!

  Then, uh-oh! A little girl had given me moonstones. Which had to be one of the deepest secrets of her people. She’d done so thoughtlessly, as though to someone of her own tribe.

  Moonstones. I’d never heard of such a thing. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much they’d be worth.

  So there I was?

  Which is the way so many anecdotes start. Usually ones where the speaker sheepishly relates some adventure in which he came off less than shining.

  But not always.

  So there I was, moonstone in my right hand, dangerously sharp arsenal in my left. I worked out a way to put the child’s sword up my left sleeve without wounding myself, then tightened the shield’s straps so it would ride my left forearm and keep the sword in place at the same time. I adjusted the helmet, grabbed hold of the ax handle in my left hand, and proceeded. Holding the ax out like it was a cobra in a foul mood.

  That ax was so sharp I could hear it slicing the air.

  Dwarves let little girls play with razor-sharp steel. They never get hurt. A grown man ought to be able to... Ouch! And what was that?

  Somebody having trouble breathing. Given a listen, there was no mistaking the sound, though I hadn’t heard it in a while. Somebody had what they call a sucking chest wound.

  Urban Jack.

  Me having had the description, this couldn’t be anyone else.

  Damn, he was huge! How the hell had he gotten down the stairs?

  He was scattered around the floor of that anteroom in the deepest basement. There was blood everywhere, tacky but a long way from dry. Jack had suffered at least a dozen cuts, most shallow, well distributed. Plus the chest wound, where something had gone in deep enough to penetrate a lung.

  I held a moonstone up high, to light as much area as possible.

  Urban Jack sensed my presence. Dull eyes cracked open. He couldn’t have seen me very well, with the moonstone over my head. He reached up, got hold of the beaver coat for a second. “Boss? I think they were too much for me this time.” His eyes closed again. His hand fell.

  He did go on breathing raggedly.

  “Grinblatt! Rindt! Where the hell are you? You all right?”

  No answer.

  I started with the clubhouse door. Nothing. Nobody and nothing. The place had been cleaned out of everything but an underground smell.

  Likewise, the little trysting room. That one before any other, most likely.

  I picked the bad door for last, meaning I tried the one I thought led to the Faction’s lab. And there I found a full complement of Grinblatts. Less Mindie, gone for help.

  They were all unconscious. Which meant they were bad hurt. Some dwarves can go into hibernation, or sort of an induced coma, when they suffer a life-threatening trauma. Meaning these dwarves were in a bad way but they could be saved. They wouldn’t be getting out of the cellar without being carried, though.

  I placed the moonstones on a naked table and started checking the dwarves. Essentially a futile gesture. They were all bundled up in their standard dwarfish apparel. I’d need a blacksmith to get them out.

  The boy appeared to be in the best shape. He lay farthest from the doorway. It looked like his mother had broken bones. Rindt had more broken bones. He looked awful. I was amazed he was breathing, induced coma or no. He had to have serious internal injuries.

  First things first. Mindie’s moonstones were fading.

  I’d just gotten a third lamp burning when I heard Saucerhead’s remote bellow. “Garrett?”

  “Come on down. It’s safe.” If there had been any spells, Urban Jack had torn them up. “Be careful on the stairs.”

  I slipped the moonstones back into my pocket.

  The lamplight revealed a lot more nothing. The place had been stripped. Only a dozen dirty, empty tables remained. There was no seeing any wall but the one housing the door I’d used to get in. There were pillars that seemed to go out in endless ranks and files. There were echoes.

  This was not something the Faction had created for themselves.

  But they had gotten it emptied out fast. Them and their moms and dads.

  Saucerhead came clumping down, followed by several other pairs of feet. “I’m in here. Whatever you do, don’t open any doors.”

  Tharpe arrived. “What the hell did you do, Garrett? I know you’re handy when they get you backed into a corner, but there ain’t no way you took Urban Jack.”

  “You’re right. That would be these people here.”

  “Dwarves? No shit?” He put down a typical human impulse to argue. “That actually makes more sense. Dwarves wouldn’t fuck around trying to talk about it. They wouldn’t worry about no appropriate level of response. They seen an Urban Jack headed their way, they’d go to the axes first.” He added a bit of philosophy I probably ought to consider more when I get all morally judgmental. “Better to be alive and feel bad than dead and feel nothing.”

  “Yeah. You see that face coming at you out of the darkness, you shouldn’t worry about anything but chopping it up. >

  “How did the asshole get down here, Garrett? Big as he is?”

  “I don’t know. Had to work at it, I guess. I don’t care. These dwarves need hauled out. We could turn these tables into stretchers.”

  “Is that a good idea? What do we do with them once we’ve got them out in the cold?”

  Not a point I wanted to hear, but a good one. “Mindie? Are you here? Where’s Mindie?”

  “Who? The little dwarf?”

  “Her.”

  “I think?”

  A little voice piped up in the antechamber. “I’m out here, Mr. Garrett.” She weaseled between Figgie Joe and a couple red caps, looked around. “I was going to stick a knife in the monster’s eye. But then I thought how bad he would start to smell, and how long it would be before there was nothing left but bones. So I left him alone. Maybe he can get out of here on his own. Then you can chop his head off.”

  “Sugar and spice,” Tharpe observed.

  “And everything nice. Mindie, what about your mom and dad and brother?”

  She was looking them over as I asked. “It isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everything will turn out all right, given time, Mr. Garrett.” She knelt beside her father.

  Saucerhead and his companions gaped. Me too. This wasn’t the scared little girl I’d found hiding in the blizzard a little bit ago. Nor was she the girl who’d shown up at the World looking for help from Saucerhead. Now she was a girl confident of the future.

  Two minutes later she was a little manager telling Saucerhead and the guys thanks for the help, and they could get back to what they’d been doing now. They smiled some and nodded some. Tharpe and Figgie Joe did go.

  The red caps stayed right where they were. Violence had been done without official license. They were going to sit in here till they got official instructions from the Al-Khar. Which meant that somebody had gone to get those.

  I might want to move on myself, then. I had no special desire to spend my evening answering stupid questions over and over.

  Mindie accepted the presence of the law. What chance did a kid have? She came to me. “Thank you. They'll be all right. Daddy will take a while to recover, though. Did you take care of my stuff? I'll take it back now.”

  I pointed. Shield, sword, ax, and helmet rested on one of the otherwise empty tables. The moonstones were in my coat pocket. I slipped them to her without the red caps noticing. “You sure you'll be all right?”

  “I'll be fine, Mr. Garrett. I have these men to protect me if the monster gets back up.” But, for an instant, the frightened child peered out from behind the confide
nt mask dwarves have to show us lesser species.

  “All right. I don’t want to be late for supper. But only if you’re absolutely sure.”

  Fleeting dwarfish smile from behind a beard just starting to come in. “No, you don’t want to miss a meal.” And, as I was sliding past the red tops, “Thank you again, Mr. Garrett.”

  87

  As noted, a heavy, wet snow is a quiet place. And blinding. People are vague shapes till you feel their breath.

  How Lurking Felhske found me, I couldn’t imagine. I’d have thought it impossible. Proof he was a genius. But he didn’t surprise me, bath or no bath. Twice he came close enough for me to sense as he sized me up. Then he took a run at me less than a quarter mile from home. Coming at me out of the snow like he was just another miserable traveler slouching along in the opposite direction.

  I didn’t actually know it was Felhske then. There was no telltale stench. But I did realize that somebody was sizing me up.

  He got the tip of the oak headknocker between the eyes as he drew even, before he could turn and jump me from behind. His knees went wobbly. I got behind him, shoved a knee into his spine while laying my club across his throat. “Be good, brother.” Taking a while to realize who I had, which I did only after I realized I had hold of a very oddly constructed gentleman.

  Despite the orangutan shape Felhske conceded his shortcomings as a street fighter. He resigned himself.

  “What the hell are you thinking? Your principal is out of action.”

  He twitched. Meaning maybe his employer wasn’t out of the equation after all. “Who’re you working for?”

  He wasn’t going to talk.

  I got his weird long arms up behind him, marched him toward my place. We would let the Dead Man deal.

  Old Bones sensed my approach. He touched me lightly, to let me know he was there, then expressed surprise that I wasn’t alone. He couldn’t sense Felhske at all. He suggested I thump the man a couple times to make sure he didn’t start thinking clearly.

  His mind is extremely well protected. Bring him right to me. This should be instructive.