Cruel Zinc Melodies

by Glen Cook

  Gilbey demanded, “What do we do?”

  “The best advice I’ve gotten so far is, leave it the hell alone. If we stop poking it, it might fall asleep again. Cold makes it sleepy. I’m letting all the cold air get to it that I can. But I’ve got a little something else going, too. In case my advisers have been talking out the wrong orifice.”

  Ensued a prolonged question, answer, challenge, and brainstorming session, the sum of which was that the costs of the World were mounting. The theater had begun to look like a questionable investment.

  Max and Manvil suggested running ice water down under. I told them, “You have to get the water there. An uphill haul. Then you'll flood everything under the neighborhood. Which wouldn’t win you any friends.”

  Gilbey asked, “Where do dwarves stand on the question of dragons?”

  Manvil Gilbey could do two things at once. He reviewed Singe’s expenses ledger while participating in the give and take. He used a company writing stick to tick items for discussion.

  I said, “One more thing, then. Maybe the most important, businesswise.”

  Max looked like he didn’t want to hear any more. “That would be?”

  “Your designers didn’t take into account the fact that human beings expected to consume mass quantities of Weider beer will need somewhere to set it free.”

  Max started to say something, stopped as the implication hit. “Really?”

  “Really. How many people will you push through there?”

  “Damn!” Gilbey said. “Two thousand on a good day. Why didn’t anybody think of that?” He was asking himself, not me.

  Max muttered, “Nobody else is worried about it. Why should we?”

  Gilbey examined the elevations. He ran fingers over them like he might discover some secret not obvious to the naked eye. “It’s true, Max. And it’s our fault. There isn’t a hint in the specs. But plenty to help beer sales go easier.”

  Max groused, “Must be because us divine types never have to piss. Take a lesson, Garrett. You’re never so old or so smart that you can’t fuck up.”

  Here came the rain of crap for everything that happened at the World.

  I was wrong.

  Max and Manvil bickered briefly, like an old married couple. I envied them. I have some solid friends but none that tight, excepting maybe Eleanor.

  I couldn’t take the tension. “When are you gonna jump in my shit?”

  Max managed baffled perfectly but Gilbey twitched and betrayed a fleeting smirk. Max asked, “There some reason we ought to come down on your ass? Like maybe for dicking around so long getting the job done?”

  “Yeah. That,” I lied.

  “I do have to admit, I’ve heard some complaints. I took into account who was whining and said,? Good on Garrett!?” Max smirked. Gilbey likewise, again.

  I got it. They were having fun. I was their proxy on the street, their beard-tugger, now that they were supposed to be too old and responsible. Now that they could afford to indulge in big amusements.

  Max’s gaze focused on Tinnie, clang! like a bear trap snapping. “What are you going to do?” His tone said more than his words. If she wanted to run with the wolves, she’d better be ready to snap and bite with them. If not, he’d take it up with one of her uncles.

  “I'll keep it in the family. Same as you would.”

  Max glanced my way. That flicker of attention told me I’d just volunteered to guarantee my woman’s work.

  I said, “I have one more thing about the World.”

  “What else did we forget?”

  I’d held on to Kip’s papers to this point. I pushed them down to Max. “It’s about lighting. You'll need lots of lighting. The usual methods are dangerous, messy, and unpleasant, especially for the people in the high seats. Kip Prose sent you some ideas. His way to make amends for the trouble his bunch caused.”

  Max eyed me narrowly. He smelled me trying to help the kid miss out on a well-deserved head-thumping. “Get with Manvil on that.”

  “Manvil will need to get with Kip. I’m reporting an opportunity.”

  Gilbey said, “Manvil needs to have a sit-down with several people before this project goes any further. So right now Manvil is going to go pry Heather loose from her hobby and put her to work.” He gave me a dark look. “I do wonder if we weren’t better off with vandalism, ghosts, giant bugs, and ignorance.”

  Gilbey left. An attendant came in to feed the fire. Job done, he left. I told Max, “So. While I’m complicating your life, here’s one more thing. Your fireplace guy spends his free time at the Al-Khar.”

  “Really?”

  “Saw him there myself.” We discussed my visit with Block, Relway, the prince, me being observed by a parade of worker bees. Max wasn’t surprised or angry. Relway spying doesn’t surprise anyone anymore.

  Gilbey came back with Heather. Soames had her business face on but was in a bright mood. She tossed a smile my way. I responded with a sign against the evil eye. She took it in good stead. Tinnie was there, after all. “I don’t know what happened. I went crazy with that hat pin. I just wanted to make it stop.” She forgot me, joined Gilbey, who had taken Kip’s drawings and suggestions from Max.

  Heather said, “There are all kinds of void spaces under that part of the city. The construction people had trouble setting foundations. Why not evacuate toilet waste into that space?”

  I told her, “The stench. It would come up into the theater. And the neighbors would object when it leaked into their undergrounds. Plus, the entity down below might consider it disrespectful.”

  Heather grunted, turned away, slipped an arm around Gilbey’s waist.

  Masses of human waste are a problem wherever they occur. But the World was uphill from the river. “Hey, Max. You think we could make money with a sewage disposal company?”

  “You’re chock-full of bad commercial ideas, Garrett. Or great ones for losing money.” He explained why a sewer company would go bankrupt.

  My feelings were hurt for seconds. Which didn’t last. Most of my schemes eventually reveal big flaws. Why, indeed, would anyone pay to use a sewer system when they can throw the stuff in the street for free?

  Heather said, “Tinnie, I talked to Alyx. Formal rehearsals will be held when you can attend.”

  The redhead put on a hard-ass look but that was the best she could expect.

  Max, Heather, and Gilbey could have a social impact as profound as Block, Relway, and Prince Rupert. It would be a new world once a theater put real, virtuous, upright women onstage. Relatively speaking.

  The visit to the Weider mansion lasted well into the afternoon. Nervous little men came in to talk about deficiencies in the design of the World. We found out that the absence of relief facilities wasn’t entirely an oversight. Competitors had trenches out back? when they had anything. The Edge added quicklime. Infrequently. The architects hadn’t been concerned so the problem hadn’t gotten much consideration.

  Heather insisted that facilities with a hint of privacy included would be a big selling point for women. Gilbey told us, “Trust her judgment in these things.”

  Kip’s lighting notions generated more excitement. Though how he meant to create the flammable gas went over my head.

  91

  Tinnie insisted that she had to get home before her family disowned her. Plus, she had uncles to brief and a kangaroo court to arrange. Singe got her to tag along to the World, where they caught a ride with Playmate, John Stretch, and the rats when they headed home. The rats had found nothing bad down under, going deeper than ever they had before. I kissed Tinnie, promised I’d see her soon, then checked in with Saucerhead. Tharpe promptly warned me that one of the workmen said he’d seen a ghost. A woman. A real looker. Which nobody else saw. The man was a known shirker.

  “I didn’t see no ghost, neither, Garrett. But I ain’t gonna spend no more time inside there than I got to.” He wasn’t convinced that it hadn’t been a ghost who had attacked those sorcerers.

  “I'
ll check it out. There anybody in there now?”

  “That foreman guy, scoping out how to get back into full swing. He said they might hire some extra guys.” The way he looked at me told me he was wondering how much longer he’d be employed.

  I told him, “Unless there’s a flare-up I'll be looking for work tomorrow. You should be all right. Max won’t go back to the fools he had before.”

  “That’s good. It’s been a weird one, Garrett. Awful low-key.”

  “Yeah.” Just the existence of TunFaire had been threatened. And a guy named Garrett had stumbled deep into alien territory in his personal life. In both cases the biggest show ever had stirred behind the veil, but quietly, quietly? and had not yet achieved resolution.

  Tharpe grinned. “I guess if I was you...”

  “Don’t even start. I’m in a state of flying panic now.”

  “Flying panic, eh? So tall, so thin, and Tinnie knows who she is? That must be just about the worst kind.”

  Sarky bastard. “I’m going to go see Luther.”

  “Later, then.”

  I found the foreman at the edge of the finished floor, which had advanced a half dozen feet. The mess downstairs was gone. Luther seemed bemused. I told him, “Good progress today.”

  “You got the fear of the gods put in them.”

  I grunted. More likely the fear of unemployment. “Can we get back on schedule?”

  “If there isn’t any more craziness.” He eyed me like he thought I could pass on some valuable scuttlebutt.

  “It’s under control, Luther. The kid gangsters are off to the work camps. Belinda Contague has developed a business interest in the neighborhood. That should discourage vandalism. The kids who created the big-ass bugs have been hammered into line. We won’t see any more of those.”

  Luther pointed down and raised a brushy eyebrow. “And that?”

  “That’s still a work in progress. What can be done is being done. Inertia is our ally. It should be asleep again now. For another hundred generations, one hopes.”

  Luther wasn’t comfortable with that. He was a guy who wanted absolute solutions. But those are the solutions that come by burying the problem in corpses.

  I said, “There was mention of a ghost sighting. That what’s bothering you?”

  “Some. But it was Lolly doing the whining. Which didn’t start till he got told he couldn’t have the afternoon off. First damned day back, he’s already wanting time off.”

  “Going forward, keep it as cold as possible in here. If it starts to warm up inside but not out, I need to know right away.” That wouldn’t close the matter. Max wouldn’t let the dragon business slide, hoping it would go back the way it was. What had awakened once could awaken twice. He’d want some solid assurance.

  “Not my problem,” Luther confessed. “I'll get the place built. The rest is up to you.”

  I liked his attitude. It was a dramatic improvement. “I'll do what I can.”

  “That’s good, Mr. Garrett. Hey, I’ve got to go. It’s a holiday tomorrow. I promised I’d get home at a reasonable hour tonight.” Just reminding me that he had a life when he wasn’t standing around jawing. “We’re having a birthday celebration for my kid.”

  People do go on living and changing when they’re not onstage with you.

  Luther left. I decided to give the World the once-over before I followed suit. One last detailed snoop before I took a quick run home for supper. I’d come right back. There were things I wanted to do when I wouldn’t be interrupted.

  Creak and a puff of cold air. I figured it was Saucerhead coming to find out what I wanted him to do. It was Tharpe, yes, but following stubby little Deal Relway himself. Tharpe’s shoulders hunched in a combination expressing apology and an appeal for instructions.

  I shrugged. It couldn’t be too bad. The man who never left the Al-Khar had come out alone. Meaning he’d have to get back out on his own.

  “Can I help you?” That most annoying of questions, usually heard when you’re doing something someone doesn’t think you ought to be doing even when you’re not breaking any rules.

  “Wanted to see the scene of the crime with my own eyes. Nice coat. Beaver?”

  “I think so.”

  “We nabbed Belle Chimes.”

  “Good for you. I knew you could do it.”

  “Then we lost him before we could get any serious answers.”

  “He escaped from the Al-Khar?”

  “He didn’t get away. He was taken away. Custody transferred. By order of Prince Rupert. You have any idea why?”

  “You’re better positioned to guess than I am. You work for the man.”

  “I do, don’t I? And I don’t have a clue what goes on inside his head.” He kept wandering. Was he looking for one of the infamous ghosts?

  We should tame them. We could turn them into another paying attraction. Spend some quality time with your dead folks in exchange for a few pieces of silver.

  Relway stopped pacing. “Then there’s the guy we found way down in the underground last night. All chopped up and out of his mind. Bad actor known as Urban Jack Tick-Tack.”

  No way I could claim ignorance. His troops had been there with me. “He attacked some dwarves I know. Their little girl came to me for help.”

  “And you sent her to Tharpe. We talked to the dwarf girl. We talked to Urban Jack. We talked to Tharpe’s crew. And we talked to the red tops who were there. Some curious conflicts in testimony turned up.”

  “That happens with witnesses.”

  “Yes. The dwarf claimed her family was attacked by a monster. Tick-Tack says he was minding his own business. The dwarves ambushed him.”

  “Five levels underground, where they were being paid to keep intruders out?”

  “Jack does think he was in the right. Says we can get the answer from his boss. Who, according to him, was down there, too, but must’ve ducked out when the red tops turned up.” Relway resumed pacing. “He can’t explain how.”

  “He claimed to be a red top himself, earlier in the evening.”

  “Um?”

  I told him about Urban Jack’s cautionary visit to The Palms.

  “Felhske again.”

  He was worried. And began dropping hints that he was having interesting thoughts. “A curious thing happened just before I left to come here. Urban Jack was transferred to the custody of Prince Rupert, too.”

  “That is curious. What does it mean?”

  “That’s what you’re going to tell me.”

  “I don’t think so. I’d need some idea of what you’re talking about, first.”

  “Of course you would. Wouldn’t you?”

  Now he’d come at me from some unexpected direction, to get me off balance. And to give me time to get worried about what he might already know.

  “You fired one of my people here. I’m not happy about that, Garrett.”

  “Tough. He was an asshole. Trying to provoke rightsist shit. We’re building a theater. That political crap, and your games, are just ignorant bullshit.”

  “On the whole, I’m not pleased with you, Garrett.”

  “On the whole, I don’t give a damn, Relway. You need somebody to please you, get yourself a wife.”

  He produced a smile just thick enough to be noticed. “You were at a tailor shop yesterday afternoon. Prince Rupert was there, too. What was that about?”

  Thanks to a nugget found in Lurking Felhske’s head, him knowing didn’t surprise me. “You’d be in the know if the prince wanted you to know. Right?”

  Deal Relway didn’t bluster or threaten. He preferred either a direct approach, or something very subtle, when he thought intimidation was appropriate. Too, he liked knowing his footing was safe before he laid the intimidation on heavily.

  I said, “I wish there was some way to get this through. We’re on the same side. But I don’t see that meaning I have to kowtow for us to get along.” I controlled a temptation to observe that his rightsist provocateur wasn’t the only
asshole involved with the Unpublished Committee. I suffered another maturation spasm. “Gently put, it’s not all about Deal Relway and his demons. It’s a bigger world and in that world most people don’t give a rat’s ass about Deal Relway’s personal happiness. They might applaud what Deal Relway does but figure he ought to stick to rounding up bad guys. He should forget about sculpting the realm to feed his own obsessions.”

  What maturity spasm was that? I was taking a two-hand yank on the king’s beard. Some mad part of me must be totally confident that Rupert would bail me out the way he had Tick-Tack and Belle Chimes.

  Rupert wanted his own necromancer, eh?

  Relway said, “Did we know each other in a past life where we were deadly enemies?”

  “What?”

  “This friction. I came here with good intentions. Meant to talk a little, swap some information, try to find out what’s going on behind my back. But the second I see you my hackles go up. I want to smack you around till you develop a case of basic manners and civilized behavior. And I have the feeling that I’d shred your nerves if all I did was stand here in silence. I should’ve asked Block to come. He’s able to deal with you.”

  I had so much antagonism yearning to be free I could’ve yammered for ten minutes. The new and improved Garrett stepped up. “It’s the way you treat people.” I had to say something.

  He had an answer right there, ready to go. He saved it.

  I didn’t have to hear him say it to know he believed he gave people what they’d earned.

  And there stood the nature of the chasm. I cherished the individual. He cherished society. He was willing to chunk anybody down a well if that would make this a better world for the survivors.