25

We’d hardly begun walking. Suddenly people started running around cackling at each other like the world’s biggest chicken herd. They didn’t act scared, they just wanted to know what was happening. Me too, you bet. I got no sense from the confusion till everybody stopped, faced the same way, and pointed.

The shadows came first, rippling over us. Then came the monsters, out of the morning sun, a good dozen of them. Instead of drifting way up high, they were down at rooftop level, wing tip to wing tip, necks snaky and heads darting around. They screeched as they went over. MorCartha appeared from nowhere, diving for safety below.

Nobody panicked. There ‘was no cause. Those things were big but not massive. They couldn’t carry anyone off. Maybe a cat or small dog. They didn’t have the wing power to go flapping away with anything heavier.

Somebody nearby observed, “They’re cleaning out the pigeons.” Which was why their heads were darting around. “One comes along ahead of the others and flushes those feathered rats, then the rest get them on the fly.”

Somebody else said, “I hear they’s a bunch of the big meat-eaters in the hills up north.”

Grimmer news, that. Some of those critters stand thirty feet tall, weigh a dozen tons, and snack on mammoths. The farmers would be in for some excitement. I told Winger, “There you go, you want to make money. I know a guy pays prime rates for thunder-lizard hides.” Willard Tate used thunder-lizard leather for the soles of army boots.

Winger spat. “Easier money here.” Like I’d made a serious suggestion. Not subtle, friend Winger.

We started moving again When we hit a quiet stretch, she said, “I didn’t know you had those things around here.”

“We don’t. Usually Something must be pushing them south. They don’t like it down here. Too cold and unfriendly.”

Which sparked a thought. If there were big carnivores rampaging through the hills, they wouldn’t last. One chilly night and that would be that. The farmers would sneak around and feed them a few hundred pounds of poisoned steel while they were too sluggish to protect themselves Then Old Man Tate would find himself with more hides than he could handle.

One reason thunder-lizards stay away from the sapient races is they always get the dirty end They’re pretty dim, but they’ve learned that Teeth and claws and mass are only so much use against brains and sorcery and sharp, poisoned steel.

Which is another reason we didn’t see much fear. Not to mention the fact that TunFaire is surrounded by a wall no thunder-lizard could climb.

The excitement made it difficult to tell if we were being tailed, by Fido’s boys or Chodo’s. I took it for granted we had company. I worried more about Easterman’s clowns than Chodo’s troops. The latter would be pros. They’d be predictable. All I knew about the brunos was that they could be deadly.

As we walked I hammered away at Winger, trying to get through. She couldn’t believe things were as black as I claimed. She didn’t understand how potent the Book of Dreams could be. Or she didn’t want to.

We’d just passed Lettie Faren’s cathouse, which clings to the skirts of the Hill like a malignant parasite, and I’d started telling Winger a story about something that had happened there. I was worried about the woman. She didn’t get the chuckle she should have. . . . Sadler stepped out of an alley. Just for a second. Nothing special to someone who didn’t know him. But I knew him. I glanced back. I doubted any tail would have spotted him.

He wanted to talk to me. Did I want to talk to him? Particularly, did I want to walk down a dark alley with him?

Well, maybe I could get him off my tail. “Winger, I got to see a man about a dog. Hang on a minute.” I headed toward that alley hitching my pants. Watchers would buy it if I didn’t take all day.

I was at a disadvantage stepping out of the brightness into shadow. If Sadler wanted me, he had me. I said, “Make it fast

“Right. Heard you had a close scrape.”

“Yeah. Dwarves Again

“I heard. That the woman we been looking for?”

“The very one. Only she didn’t cut Squirrel. I think I know who did. Brunos who work for a guy called Fido Easterman.”

He snickered. “Fido?”

“It’s an imperial title. Don’t make mock. Yeah. He’s crazy as a platoon of loons. Real candidate for the ha-ha house. Got a place up the Hill looks like a haunted castle. Wants to be an evil sorcerer.”

“He isn’t?’’

“Like a stone isn’t. He’s just crazy. Maybe it’s his business. Metal smelting. Maybe he’s breathed too many fumes off the crucibles. He’s got four brunos that I spotted. Not first water. I think he went for cheap over competent.”

Sadler clicked his tongue, looked thoughtful. He seemed distracted. Odd. He’d wanted to talk to me, not the other way around.

I said, “There’s a good chance they offed Blaine, too.”

Sadler clicked again, looked even more thoughtful. Maybe he was turning into a philosophical cricket. It could happen. Stranger things have.

“What?” I asked. Impatient me. Just because a whiz don’t take twenty minutes.

“These guys are second rate, eh?”

“Looked it to me.” Was he paying attention?

“What about that door9 Who cut Squirrel so deep? Somebody with a little strength, eh9”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess. That’s you, Garrett. Guessing and stumbling around in the dark till you fall over something. Reason 1 wanted to talk to you, we got a line on some dwarves. Probably won’t do you no good. They was in a big dust-up down on the Landing. Dwarfish gang fight. One bunch jumped another bunch. After, some headed for Dwarf Fort, some headed toward the Bledsoe. I’d call it a draw, far as how mt turned out. I got some guys trying to track the ones went toward the hospital. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I forgot to mention Winger and I were on a trail. Better to have the hard boys headed somewhere else. “This is turning into the longest leak in history. Anybody was watching me they’d be getting suspicious.”

“You worry too much. Crask can handle them. But go on. Catch you later.” He drifted into shadow, taking his aura of menace with him.

“Yeah. Later.” I stomped out of there hitching my pants and shaking my head.

Winger said, “You must have a five-gallon bladder, Garrett.” She was breathing heavy.

“Yeah. Something happen?”

She gave me a mocking smile. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Some guy tried to pick me up. I discouraged him.”

“Oh. Let’s move.” I wanted to see what I could see before Chodo’s boys stumbled into my way. Always seemed to be people turning up dead when they did.

Winger seemed disappointed that I didn’t have any banter or follow-up questions about her encounter. I shrugged it off.

It was hard to make any speed. The streets had filled with people gawking at the pigeon exterminators. One glided over, pathfinding. I said, “I hear those things only go thirty, forty pounds.” This one went night over the Tate compound, which wasn’t far away. I wondered if Tinnie was watching, too. For no reason I could finger I was feeling blue.

“Cheer up, Garrett. We’ll find that book and get rich.”

Or dead. Lots more likely dead.

26

The longer we walked the more certain I became that I’d have to renegotiate with Winger. I glanced at her, big as me, strutting along like she dared the world to take its best shot. Something about her unjustified cockiness appealed to me Give her a dose of sense, she might be all right.

“Hey, Winger. That twenty isn’t an open offer. I won’t buy a pig in a poke. You got to deliver dwarves.”

“No cat in this bag, Garrett. You’ll get dwarves.”

Cat and pig, both expressions come from an old country con. Once upon a time peasants took piglets to market in a ‘poke.’ Some grifter got the idea of stuffing the bag with a cat and selling it to somebody gullible enough not to look inside before he handed over his money. So. Pig in a poke, cat out of the bag.

I wanted dwarves. I got them. But not exactly in mint condition.

“What’s going on?” Winger muttered. People were milling around a tenement that had seen its best days a hundred years before I was born People who weren’t interested in the ongoing airshow.

“Trouble,” I told her. “Past tense Else we’d have a desert here.”

“Ghouls9”

“You could say that.”

She pushed through the crowd, not caring who she shoved or elbowed She was mad, perfectly willing to get in a fight. I wondered if I ought to be around somebody who had herself a war on with the whole world.

The first dead dwarf lay sprawled in the tenement entrance, hacked and stabbed and twisted up into an unnatural position. He clutched the hilt of a broken knife. “Got swamped in a rush, looks like,” I said. “Anybody see it happen?” I’m a dreamer.

The nearest vultures looked at me like I was crazy. I shrugged, pushed inside. No crowd in there, which suggested the folks outside expected city busybodies any minute. People not worried about the Watch would have been inside collecting anything the dead couldn’t use anymore.

The Watch seldom bothers doing much policing or chasing, but they do grab folks found on the scene, then make life miserable for them. I told Winger, “We’d better do this quick.”

“Do what?” She sounded depressed. I supposed she was thinking about all the things she couldn’t buy with the money I wasn’t going to pay her.

“Look the place over. See what’s to be seen.”

“Why? All you’re going to see is more dead guys.”

She had a point. There was another on the first floor landing and three in the hallway on the second. Two of those may have been attackers. They were better kempt, better clad. Gnorst’s bunch.

The fight had proceeded along the hallway, scourged a half-dozen sleeping rooms, and tumbled down a cramped rear stairwell. None of the rooms had doors. Most had been torn apart by somebody in a hurry looking for something. We found a ratman and a dwarf, both critically wounded and a lot of nothing else. I asked, “Was this the place you wanted to sell me?”

“Sure was.” Still depressed.

“You tried.”

“That don’t put money in my pocket. What’s that racket?” She meant the yelling out front.

“Watch must be coming. People telling each other to make themselves invisible. Which isn’t such a bad idea.” I stomped down the back stairway. Behind me, Winger muttered about her luck couldn’t turn worse if she prayed. Her vocabulary wasn’t unique or imaginative, but it was colorful.

The back way out featured a broken door. I squeezed through. The mess beyond suggested somebody tried to hold Gnorst’s dwarves there while the renegades made their getaway. One of Gnorst’s dwarves lay partially buried in litter, alive enough to groan. I tried asking him questions. If he spoke any Karentine, he was too involved in his own misery to respond. He did manage one dwarfish outburst filled with fireworks, the only word of which I caught was “ogre.” I told Winger, “This one will be all right. If the Watch don’t lynch him just to make believe they’re doing something useful.”

“I think they’re in the building.” There was a racket inside.

“Time to go Watch your step.” TunFaire’s alleys serve many unplanned uses, especially those of trash dump and public relief facility. The quality of cleanup attention they get from the city ratmen declines as one moves farther from the Hill. What the lords don’t see don’t exist. We were far from the hub of the wheel here, in a stretch so foul it boasted no homeless tenants.

A Watchman stepped into our path as we approached the street. Being a naturally courteous kind of guy, I’d let Winger go first The Watchman was about five six and tricked out in those gaudy blues and reds, a pretty little devil who got him a nasty grin when he saw he had somebody boxed. He started to say something.

What did he want to say? Who the hell knows9 Winger grabbed him by the throat, planted one on his nose, hoisted him up, and flipped him into the mess behind us. Like he weighed about six pounds. I wanted to gawk but knew it wouldn’t work. He had friends. “Bright move, Winger. Real bright.” I hoped he hadn’t seen me well enough to know me if we met again.

I put the old heels and toes to work doing what the gods intended and didn’t slow down till I was ten blocks away. Huffing, puffing, snorting like a bilious dragon, I looked for Winger. Not a sign of her. She’d gone her own way. Which was maybe an excellent idea and one I ought to hope she’d pursue indefinitely. A guy could get hurt hanging around with people like her.

27

I trust the light was feeble there, the Dead Man sent Winger’s behavior amused him. Is there any likelihood the Watchman recognized you?

“Why should he?”

You are a known character.

That sack of petrified lard was worried about losing his free ride!

He wouldn’t have admitted it if I’d set a fire under him but the truth smoldered through. If he lost me, he might actually have to work to keep a roof over his head. There’s nothing in this world he loathes more than work.

The fact that he was worried worried me. It was out of character. I take my life in my hands every time I go sniffing around after the bad boys. That never bothered him before It got me thinking and that’s always dangerous. Wondering if he hadn’t had some premonition. Wouldn’t surprise me to find he could peek into the future. Especially after the way he’d been guessing what Glory Mooncalled would do.

“What’s happened?” I thought it a perfectly reasonable query. He ignored it. “Be that way, then.” I took my question to Dean.

“Nothing,” Dean told me “Except that he did hint that he was getting something like a black vibration out of the Cantard. I think he meant he felt something happening down there.”

“Oh, my. It’d have to be big.” Oh, my, oh, my.

I couldn’t believe it was anything but imagination. Dead men got nothing to do but fantasize. But . . . If something that big was happening, it had to involve Glory Mooncalled.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. When the going gets tough, Garrett puts his feet up and has a beer I took a pitcher into the office and snuggled up with Eleanor We had us a chat about whether or not I had any obligation, anywhere, now I could be sure Tinnie was going to be all right. Eleanor didn’t have much to say, but somewhere along the way, after things got a little dizzy, I recalled that I’d taken on a client, a wee lovely who thought me finding an improbable book could save her father’s bacon.

I didn’t want to believe in the thing, but people and dwarves were dropping like flies. We were playing morCartha down here on the ground. I was caught in it, like it or not. Somebody wanted me to join the flies.

Dean brought beer and a stern look I asked, “Where’s Carla Lindo?”

“Guest room. Worrying.” He assumed his human roadblock stance. “She doesn’t need comforting. She needs help.”

“Yeah. Sure So do I You don’t see me getting any. Hell. I’m done waiting for it to come to me. I’ll go round it up.” I drained another mug of courage, checked my portable arsenal, headed for the door. Dean trotted along behind grinning like an old death’s-head.

His romantic notions would be the death of me yet.

I’m immune to romantic notions, of course I’m a block of heavy metal unshakably planted at the center of a plain of common sense, illuminated by the sun of reason.

Right Look up. See the swarms of pigs flying south for the winter9

I hadn’t been inside, isolated from the city ambience, for long, but something had changed. Some new level of tension had been reached. There were fewer people out. Those who were seemed nervous. I could see no real reason.

I visited Morley’s place but found no Morley. I went away puzzled, headed for Saucerhead’s shabby den.

Tharpe was out, too. Not one of his mouse-size lady friends was there to clue me where he’d gone, either. ‘Twas a puzzlement

I went away frowning. Something had to be going on. Especially with Morley. He faded from sight sometimes, but I’d never known him to take his whole crew with him. There’d always been some way to get in touch.

I headed for home.

I got the news from a neighbor moments before I reached the house.

“Big roughhouse in the Cantard, Old Bones,” I told the Dead Man. “Word’s just in All mixed up Sounds like our troops and the Venageti caught up with Mooncalled at the same time, some place called Broken Back Canyon. No word how it came out yet, though.” All the neighbor knew was that the battle had been all-time big. I assumed the northbound dispatches had been sent immediately on contact. The mere catching of Mooncalled was news of major importance.

1 suspected as much. To yield vibrational energies I can detect here . . . It must be the battle of battles and still going on I would not have expected Mooncalled to be capable of so violent a defense.

“Cornered rats But Mooncalled always did the unexpected.

Perhaps. Let us not concern ourselves overmuch before more coherent information arrives. I sense that you are troubled.

“What a genius. Amazing how you figure things out.” I told him about my day, such as it was so far.

Go eat. Let me think.

I did that, without a squabble I was that down, feeling that inadequate.

“He’s had an hour,” I told Dean, who was thoroughly sick of me hanging around the kitchen. “That ought to be long enough for even a genius.” Stomach full, now optimistic enough to have put aside thoughts of suicide, I hit the hallway.

Carla Lindo stepped out of the Dead Man’s room. She carried a broom and dustpan. I stopped to gape. Behind me, Dean started apologizing “She wanted to do something, Mr. Garrett. And he doesn’t bother her.”

“Fine.” No broom ever took my breath away. No. She’d Just turned my spine to jelly with a look that should have gotten the fire bells sounding all over town.

I grabbed myself by the collar and dragged me into the Dead Man’s room before I soaked the carpet with drool.

She is attractive, is she not?

“Huh? You too.” We lived in an age of wonders indeed. The millennium was at hand. He never said anything nice about persons of the opposite sex. But maybe Carla Lindo was opposite enough to touch even the dead.

You have something to report?

Report it may help you avoid hyperventilation.

“I already told you everything.”

Oh..  So you did.

Somebody started pounding on the front door. The Dead Man didn’t appear interested. I ignored it. Whoever might go away. It was time to uncomplicate my life.

I have been thinking, Garrett.

“Hey, that’s great I’m glad to hear it. Especially since that’s what you get paid for.”

Garrett! Time is of the essence.

“So quit wasting it. I’ve only got maybe thirty years left.’’

I have been mulling this Book of Dreams. it occurs to me that Chodo Contague must soon, if he has not already, discover the nature of the root of all this excitement. It occurs to me that, then, his interest will intensify, passing beyond professional revenge.

“Huh?” He does go on like that “You lost me.” Not really, but he does like to feel smarter than the rest of us and the best way to keep him moving is to appeal to his ego.

The more / consider this Book of Shadows, the more sinister and seductive it seems.

I made appropriate noises indicating awed curiosity

We all play roles all the time, Garrett. We all develop multiple faces we don according to the situation and companion of the moment and, perhaps, according to the advantage we hope to acquire. How terribly convenient it would be to have the ability to become whatever we wanted, filling the role to perfection, whenever that suited our whim. He sounded wistful. Having a Carla Lindo around can do that to anybody. How very convenient if we happen to be afflicted with terrible handicaps.

like being dead, maybe? “I get you. But my inclination is Just to squat here till we see how the wind’s blowing”

Unacceptable. There is a balance that must be rectified. Not to mention the fact that we have undertaken to aid Miss Ramada I must do some additional thinking on how best to proceed. While / do so, I suggest you cross the hall Dean has installed Mr. Tate in your office. He appears to need reassurances.

“Willard Tate? Here?”

The same.

“The old boy never leaves his compound. What the hell is he doing here?”

You might ask.

Nothing like a subtle hint. “Yeah. Right.” I headed for the office.

Tate had taken the guest chair He didn’t fit. Too small. Like a wispy. gray old gnome. Dean had settled him with a pitcher He was working on that and flirting with Eleanor. I said, “Three minutes more and you wouldn’t have caught me home “ Just to suggest that I was a busy man.

He glowered. “Tinnie’s taken a bad turn, Garrett “He gestured reassuringly, though. “Won’t kill her, they tell me. But it’s enough to leave me an emotional wreck. I came here to find out if you’ve learned anything new”

“Not a lot.” I told him about my day

He shook his head slowly, angrily, looked at Eleanor as though he was talking to her “I’m wasting my time and yours ! know that. But I couldn’t work Couldn’t sit still “ As he spoke he changed, gaining an edge of steel “I want to meet this woman who calls herself the Serpent. I want to tell her a thing or two.”

“She’s a witch, Mr. Tate. And not any tealeaf reader, either Not easy to reach and big trouble if you do. Moreover, my partner has cautioned me that Chodo Contague should be developing a more than passing interest in her “ I explained why.

Tate rose. He would have paced had there been room. “I don’t like seeing Tinnie hurt, Garrett. Nor any Tate. Especially not for no reason. I won’t endure it. Chodo isn’t a problem. I have money. I have proven connections. I can buy myself a stormwarden if I care to.”

“Sounds like the frying pan to the fire to me. Suppose you do buy you one. What happens when he figures out whatthe book is9”

“I don’t much care

“You ought to. I do. We have obligations that transcend—”

“Crap.”

“It’s not quite law of the jungle and survival of the fittest out there, Mr. Tate. Not yet. And that’s mainly because some of us do what’s right. Listen to me. That book is evil incarnate. Even if every character recorded in it is as sweet and naive as Tinnie, the book is an instrument of darkness Its only use can be to do evil.”

Was this me speechifying? My oh my.

I’d started thinking about how I could use the book myself. I suspected anybody who heard about it would do the same. Human nature. How could anyone who possessed it resist abusing the power it would confer?

“Think about this. If the Book of Shadows didn’t exist, would Tinnie be a step from death’s door? How about all the people who’ve already died because of it? It’s pure evil because it brings out the worst in everybody.”

In his best moments Tate looks like he’s noshirig lemons. This wasn’t one of his best times. “I think you’re splitting hairs, Garrett. That book didn’t kill anybody. People made decisions and acted on them. Only then did people die.”

“Those decisions were warped by knowledge of the existence of the book.”

“You’re quibbling. We’re quibbling. Why? Are you trying to get money out of me? Why on earth are you sitting there talking to me at all?”

Best question he’d asked so far. “Courtesy, Mr Tate. Courtesy.”

“Why don’t you toss me out? I’m just art old pain in the ass who’s keeping you from doing something useful.”

He was in a mood, he was. “You have a suggestion what? Maybe I should rent a horse and go galloping around yelling ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are.’

His control had grown ragged, but he actually gave my question consideration.

“I’d like to do something, Mr. Tate. I want to do something. My style is to grab loose ends and keep pLcking till things unravel. But I’m having trouble finding any loose threads. All I can do is keep getting in the way and hope that leads somewhere Meantime, I keep tripping over all these other people who’re looking themselves.”

Willard Tate wasn’t a wealthy man because he let his emotions rule him. He clamped down. He thought. He told me. “You have resources. The girl. The dwarf chieftain. Those men who work for Contague. Find those two. Keep an eye on them. Let them do your hunting.”

He was a storehouse of ideas, all right. Crazy ideas. Follow Crask and Sadler around? Why not just tie boulders to my toes and go for a swim? Save us all time and trouble.

“They’re only men, Garrett. Chodo’s just a man. You’ve faced down stormwardens. You’ve invaded a vampire nest. Did those things use up all your courage and leave you a crippled old man, too?”

He was a manipulator, that guy. “No. What did he want, really?” I hadn’t yet gotten a real grip on the fact that he was here. Had he slipped his moorings?

“Money and contacts, Garrett. I’ve got them Chodo Contague doesn’t intimidate me. I want this Serpent creature. Get her for me Destroy her book if you want. It means nothing to me Just get me her. My mind is set. I’ll pay whatever it costs. If you have to work through Chodo Contague, do it. Tell me what you need and I’ll provide the tools. But don’t sit there cringing.”

I wasn’t cringing, but wasn’t going to argue. He’d started sounding like a candidate for the cackle academy. Having him behind me was all right but preferably far behind and not on any crusade.

How do I get into these messes? I glanced at Eleanor. “Why me?”

Hell. I should get out of this racket Welder still wants me at the brewery. I could handle security there, work regular hours, and never worry about getting caught up in any wackiness.

A book of shadows that lets somebody change characters like I change socks. Come on. I don’t need it.

Tate and I looked at each other for a while. We drank some beer. He had his anger worked out now and seemed abashed. I’d never seen him that way, but in this world anything can happen.

The pitcher went dry. I called Dean. Carla Lindo came. Tate squeaked. The resemblance to Tinnie was strong in the weak light. I said, “This is Carla Lindo Ramada, Mr. Tate. The lady the assassins were after.”

He stared. “I understand their mistake. Speaking of which, I made a big one coming here. Made a real fool of myself, eh? Let me get out of your way, Mr. Garrett.” He rose, still staring. Carla Lindo was embarrassed.

His sudden change of attitude left me twitchy. I didn’t believe it but didn’t know him well enough to guess what he was thinking.

But I had the Dead Man to explain it to me. I said, “I’ll see you to the door.”

Tate was still looking at Carla Lindo when I closed the front door. A platoon of his relatives awaited him out there. Tinnie was the only Tate who went around alone. I wished that just the once, she’d clung to family custom. I’d just as soon I’d never heard of the Book of Dreams.

28

I joined my permanent houseguest. “What was that all about?”

He wished to discover if you had learned anything new. He is considering taking matters into his own hands. Miss Tate’s relapse appears to have unhinged him.

“You ask me, his hinges never were on tight. Damn. He’s one stubborn runt. He could cause a lot of grief.”

That appears to be his intent.

“You get anything useful out of that thick head?”

The best time to purchase leather futures. Should you care to get into the shoe and boot trade.

“You’re a scream, Old Bones. Har-har.”

Gnorst has been in the thick of it lately. Go see if he will tell you anything.

“Right.” it was getting dark out. I really wanted to take a stroll amongst the screeching morCartha and lurking dwarves. “Hell, why not? I still got places that don’t have bumps and bruises. Maybe if I get out there fast enough, I can even get myself killed.”

He knew no mercy. Do not forget to inquire after the latest from the Cantard.

Probably had a bet on with himself. Loghyr can do stuff like that if they’re inclined. They have multiple brains and sometimes multiple personalities.

I huffed out of there and told Dean I was going for a walk. Carla Lindo was there with him. I salivated all over the place. She smiled and posed Saucy. That was a good word for her. Along with about twenty others.

Dean hammered me with dirty looks. That old boy knows me too damned well, I ought to fire him and get somebody less opinionated. But where could I luck onto somebody who’d do half the job he does?

I checked the street good before I stepped outside. I checked again after I stepped out. I saw nothing obvious but stayed ready to duck. No bolts came whispering death. The only noise was that of the aerial circus. The morCartha had taken their show to the riverfront tonight.

I headed for the Safety Zone. It wasn’t out of my way. Morley’s place was closed up and dark. I went around back. Nothing. Amazing. Even when the front door is closed, there’s always somebody in the kitchen.

I was getting worried.

I tried Saucerhead’s place next. This time I got an answer but not from Tharpe. A little blonde about big enough to sit on his palm told me she hadn’t seen him all day. She got worried because it was me looking for him. She thought he was with me. I told her to relax, we’d Just missed each other. She didn’t relax.

I didn’t either. There was something going on. And I was zooming around in the middle of it like a blind moth amongst a thousand candles.

A sane moth would have landed and saved his wings.

Speaking of flames. I’d accumulated a tail again. I sensed it as I moved away from Saucerhead’s place. I didn’t run any games on him. Let him think I didn’t know. Let him relax. I’d move fast when I wanted to shake him.

I did change my mind about where I’d go next. I’d been thinking of making the rounds of every shady character I knew willing to sell somebody for a copper. None of those people were friends, but they did trust me not to bring down any heat. I’d lose a lot of sources if I went around fingering them even by accident.

So I headed for Dwarf Fort. Gnorst’s crowd could take care of themselves.

I went to the same door. The same old boy—or his evil twin—answered my knock. “I’m Garrett,” I reminded him, in case his memory was feeble or a different dwarf had taken up residence behind all the facial brush. “I need to see the Gnorst again.” I figured if this wasn’t the same dwarf, he’d at least have heard of my previous visit.

Same dwarf or not, he had the same talent for public relations. “You Tall Ones are all alike. Think nobody’s got nothing better to do than hop when you say frog, even in the middle of the night. All right. All right. If you must. If you insist. Himself, the very Gnorst, said bring you if you turn up again.” His manner suggested he thought his boss was a damned fool.

I stepped inside. “Whoa. Let me close that.” I pushed the door shut, to a crack, peeked outside.

Whoever was out there didn’t show himself. This was starting to spook me. I’d known only one man that good. He’d died. And there wasn’t any doubt he was still dead.

Gnorst met me in the same garden Maybe that was the only place outsiders were entertained. “How can I help you tonight, Mr. Garrett?”

“Just checking in I wondered if you’d learned anything since we talked.”

He shook his head. “Not one damned thing.” Man. He lied with such style I wanted to believe him anyway. You got to admire a character who can jerk you around and make you like it. Only I didn’t like it. He almost snarled as he said, “I would have sent a message if I had. I thought I told you I would.”

Oh really? When? “None of your people knew anything?”

“No”

“That’s curious.”

“How so?”

“There’ve been fights amongst dwarves all day. We’ve had dead dwarves turning up everywhere. I’d have sworn some were yours.”

“You’re a victim of your prejudices and preconceptions, Mr. Garrett. Gods bring on the hour when you stop thinking we all look alike,”

I could plead guilty except the little clown was trying to divert attention. He was lying. I knew he was lying. He knew I knew he was lying. He knew I knew he knew, and so forth. But this was his house and no place to challenge him.

I said, “When I came here before, I didn’t know anything about any Book of Shadows or what dwarves might have to do with making one. Right’?”

Gnorst nodded. “Agreed. So?”

“You think finding out would make me more dangerous to somebody?”

“Possibly. Not many nondwarves know the story Even among us it’s mostly forgotten. It has been said by the wise, knowledge is dangerous.”

“That’s what I thought

“Sneaking up on something, Mr Garrett?”

I thought some before I explained. I wanted it to stay airborne when I shoved it out of the nest, though it would never soar. “The bad boys paid me no attention before I came down here They’ve been trying to kill me ever since I walked back out. Makes a guy wonder. How was I different? How did they know? Not to mention how come is it that all these skirmishes between dwarf gangs keep turning out inconclusive?”

Gnorst darkened behind his face fur. He started pacing. “I did hear about you being attacked up the street. I didn’t put it together before. Yes. I see your point. One of your points. They weren’t keeping an eye on you, but all of a sudden, they knew you’d seen me and had become a danger Though it leaves me embarrassed and ashamed, Mr. Garrett, I must admit that it looks like one of my people is an informer.”

Putting it mildly. “That’s my guess.”

“Out of curiosity, Mr. Garrett, how is it that you’re alive to visit me again? I would think that dwarfish efficiency would extend to setting an ambush.

“I got lucky. Chodo Contague’s men turned up the first time. Second time I started running before they started sniping. I hope there won’t be a next time. I hope they’re on the run from whoever has been hitting their hideouts.”

He chuckled. It wasn’t a nice sound. It was a noise something like the glug-glug of water coming from a ten-gallon bottle crossed with fingernails scraping a slate board.

“I don’t find any of this amusing.”

“I’m sure you don’t, Mr. Garrett. What are you doing?”

I was sneaking toward the edge of the roof. “Somebody’s been following me I thought I might get a look at him from here.”

I didn’t, though. It was so damned dark down there he could have danced in the street without me getting a look I lied, “So that’s mainly the reason I came by. To let you know I think you’ve got a spy on board.”

Gnorst grunted irritably. My experience is, his kind are naturally crabby. Gnorst was a paragon of manners and patience. Maybe that was why he was the local boss dwarf. He told me, “You didn’t bring me any news I wanted to hear. Now I have to deal with it.”

It’s hard to read a being who grew up in an alien culture yet looks human enough to make you jump to conclusions. But I had a strong suspicion Gnorst was a lot less unhappy than he wanted me to believe. Maybe he thought having a renegade handy was an asset. I could think of ways that would be true.

“I know what you mean. I’ve been a regular fountain of bad news all day. Everywhere I go I’m telling somebody something they don’t want to hear.”

We fenced awhile with words. He wouldn’t give up a thing I could use. I surrendered to the inevitable, told him I was going to go dump it all on the Dead Man. He let me go without another word. He wasn’t as gracious as he’d been. That questionable attitude infected my guide. The dwarf took no pains to make my passage through the place a comfort.

I froze the moment I hit the street, looked around carefully. Garrett don’t get bitten by the same snake twice. I saw nothing. Even so, I moved away ready for anything.

Nothing ever happens when you’re ready.

The silence overhead seemed almost ominous. The morCartha had retired, for whatever reason. I almost missed them. They had become part of city life.

29

I had the night to myself. Unless you count sharing with a tail. It wasn’t a happy feeling. Empty streets always mean trouble to me.

Whoever was after me was spooky. I only ever knew one guy that good, Pokey Pigotta. Maybe this was Pokey’s ghost.

I’d outthought Pokey once when he’d been on me. Maybe I could use the trick again. It was hard to beat for a guy working alone. I looked for a busy tavern I knew would have a back door.

Not my day. It didn’t work. I didn’t catch anybody sliding in the front door by sprinting around from the back. It was like the guy was psychic. All I accomplished was to let whoever know I knew he was there. Go match wits with a rock, Garrett. Chances are the rock will come out ahead.

Having somebody dog you works on your head. You start out wondering who and why. Pretty soon you’re into what if and then imagination flares and you’ve got a vampire or werewolf or ghoul pack just waiting for you to walk down a dark alley with your eyes closed.

There ain’t no comforting thoughts, come a dark night.

Hell with the clown. Let him walk his behind off. He didn’t seem interested in messing with me, just in seeing what I got me up to. If I kept moving, he’d have no rime to report to whoever sicked him on me.

I was tired and depressed and short on zest for life. Maybe even a little cranky. I get that way when things keep on not going my way. Call me spoiled.

I was near the Bledsoe Infirmary, a charity hospital supported by surviving descendants of the old imperial family, when I sensed a change in the night. It wasn’t obvious, just a difference. Nothing I could pin down. My shadow was there still. The morCartha weren’t making much racket. Random flying thunder-lizards still ghosted overhead, chasing bats. The streets remained underpopulated. I wondered if it might not be some holiday among the night people

I paused to consider the Bledsoe, a monument to good intentions having become a symbol of despair. A place of fear, where the poor went to die and the mad screamed out their souls in overcrowded, locked wards. The imperial family did all they could, but their best wasn’t enough. Their money and donations of labor barely kept it from falling down. It was huge, gray, ugly, and may have been imposing in its prime, a couple of hundred years ago. Now it was just another shabby old building, bigger than but no better than ten thousand others in TunFaire.

I shook my head, startled by an original thought. I couldn’t recall ever having seen new construction anywhere in the city Was the war that big a drain on resources?

The war is the most important thing in all our lives, whether or not we’re directly involved. It shapes our selves and surroundings and forges our futures as every minute passes.

Whatever was happening in the Cantard, so heroic the Dead Man could sense it from here, would have a crashing impact on all our lives.

That scared me. I’m not fond of things the way they are, but the only changes 1 can see will be for the worse. The bigger the change, the more for the worse.

Some tiny sound reached me, some ghostly flicker of motion teased the corner of my vision. I’d been a step too far away from here and now realized it, and my reaction was maybe more vigorous than it should have been. I did me a wild roundhouse kick toward the movement, brought my foot down, ducked and pivoted and lashed the air with a knife.

Crask was saved by the fact that my tippytoe brushed his chin lightly, pushing him back. He’d thrown himself away at the same time. Now he sat on his duff looking up at me with a goofy expression.

“Say . . .“ he said. “Say. what’s wrong with you?”

I had so much juice in me so sudden I started shaking. I’d blown it, really. I took some deep breaths to calm me down, put the knife away, extended a hand. “Sorry. You startled me bad.”

“Yeah? Well, you got no call . . .“ I shut up as he reached with his left hand. I didn’t like the look in his eye. I pulled my hand back before he grabbed it and went to chewing on it.

He got up slowly, using only his left hand. I noticed he had his right arm strapped to his stomach. “What happened to you?” Hard to tell in that light but his face looked a little worse for wear, too. He looked less intimidating than usual.

He got up slowly, rubbed his behind. Damn, he looked embarrassed! Maybe it was the light leaking from the Bledsoe. . . He didn’t have an answer.

I leaped to a conclusion. He’d been the guy Winger had discouraged when Sadler had me in that alley. No proof, and he’d never tell, but by damn I’d put money on it. A copper or two, anyway. I grinned. “You shouldn’t ought to sneak up that way.”

“I didn’t sneak. I walked right into you, Garrett.”

I didn’t argue. You don’t with a Crask or Sadler. “What you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Your man said you were headed for Dwarf Fort. I come down this way figuring you’d be headed back by now.”

I was going to have to have a talk with Dean. Though it was understandable he’d answer Crask’s questions if Crask put on his nasty face. “What’s up?”

“Couple things. You seen Sadler?”

“Not since . Not for a long time. Why?”

“Disappeared.” Crask didn’t waste many words. “Come to see Chodo right after . .“ He wasn’t going to talk about the incident. “Talked some, then went away. Nobody seen him go Wasn’t told he was supposed to. Nobody’s seen him since. Chodo’s concerned.”

Chodo was concerned. That would be an understatement, as were most statements about the kingpin. In language the rest of us would use, it meant Chodo was mightily pissed.

I don’t usually volunteer information, especially to the kingspin’s people, but I made an exception. “Guys have been disappearing all over I can’t find a trace of Morley Dotes. Likewise Saucerhead Tharpe. You might say Fm concerned, too. I don’t hear anything on the street. You?”

He shook his head first, some top skin flashing in the hospital light. “I thought Dotes was sulking on account of we used his place.”

“I thought so, too. At first. Only that wouldn’t be his style, would it?”

“Nah. Feisty as he is, he’d have busted our heads and kicked our asses out of there if he was really pissed.”

“He’d have tried, anyway.”

Crask smiled. He did that so seldom it was startling. “Yeah. Tried. I got some business I got to get on with, Garrett. I’m late, I been chasing all over after you to find out about Sadler. I want you should walk along, talk to me. Maybe we can brainstorm out where people are disappearing.”

I didn’t feel like it but didn’t argue. It wasn’t that I was afraid of offending him. I thought I might learn something. Call it intuition.

The first thing I learned was that Crask wasn’t, for the moment at least, the man I knew and loathed. He was so busy working on something inside him that some of his barriers against the world leaked. He seemed almost human at moments—though not so much I’d want my sister to marry him if I had a sister. I don’t and I’m glad. My friends are hostages enough for fortune.

30

For some hours I’d entertained the notion that Chodo had eliminated Morley and Saucerhead in order to deprive me of resources should I discover he’d become interested in the Book of Dreams. Sometimes you get that way, thinking you’re the center of the universe. But once I ran into Crask, the speculation collapsed under the weight of reason.

You grab straws when nothing makes sense.

Morley had dropped out before Chodo could have discovered the book’s nature. Even now I had no real reason to suspect he knew about the book. Him looking for a missing Sadler only made everything murkier.

Who might be making people disappear? The Serpent shouldn’t be interested in those guys. She was after the Book of Dreams. Headhunting wouldn’t help The same reasoning applied to happy old Fido Easterman.

So who had reason to eliminate my acquaintances?

Plenty of people, if you took them individually. But nobody was the only answer when you considered them as a group. They didn’t share many enemies

Crask agreed.

We trudged along, me leaning into the bitter wind and grumbling about not having a clue. Then about having so many clues I didn’t know which had to do with what.

“Where we headed?” I asked. This wasn’t helping me any yet. I glanced back I still felt the presence of that shadow that had been with me off and on. I didn’t see anything. Like I’d maybe expected I would?

“Tenderloin,” Crask mumbled. The wind was getting to him, too. He was trying to shelter his injured arm. “Got an appointment with some dwarves.”

Ah. So, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

The Tenderloin is sin’s homeland in TunFaire. Anything goes, nobody asks questions, nobody interferes with anybody else. Missionaries not welcome. Reformers enter at your own risk. Likewise everybody else. The Serpent’s whole gang could hide there in plain sight easy, despite everyone and everything being owned by Chodo. They’d just need to remember not to run in a pack.

I really should have thought of it. The Tenderloin isn’t far from Dwarf Fort. It’s just a few blocks past the Bledsoe and I’d been told the renegade dwarves had fled that way after one of their skirmishes with Gnorst’s bunch. Had I been from out of town and needed to hide, that’s where I’d have gone to ground.

So why hadn’t I thought to come poke around? I must be getting senile

The Tenderloin never sleeps, it just slows down late. When we arrived, lamplighters were out snuffing lights, conserving oil. During peak hours the area is awash with light, a carnival, but the management doesn’t waste a copper that won’t return ten. This was the hour of the diehard, when light and darkness were irrelevant.

The Tenderloin is like the whores who are its chief commodity, all paint and makeup on the outside. Behind the flash lies rot and stink and human despair. Even where they could, they don’t put makeup on that. By the time you look it in the eye, they’ve already gotten your money and are interested only in processing you through as fast as can be managed.

The wind grew more bitter by the minute. Maybe that was why the morCartha had taken the night off. Their native valleys are much warmer. The lamplighters hunched inside their ragged coats and cursed into their beards. The barkers for various establishments watched the street through doors cracked scant inches, waited till we drew abreast to jump out and wax rhapsodic about wonders unimaginable available within. They retreated when we signaled Jack of interest. Nobody pressed. They all recognized Crask.

I let him show the way, wandered off inside me in search of one good reason why I kept charging around looking for the Book of Dreams. I’d begun to distrust me. I feared there was a part of me that wanted it the way the Serpent and Easterman wanted it. The way maybe even the local prince of dwarves wanted it.

There was a new idea. It deserved a look. It might explain why Gnorst was uncommunicative. He might be thinking of trying on Nooney Krombach’s shoes.

“Uh-oh “ While I was scouting the badlands within, the outer landscape had changed. The streets had emptied. Crask had stopped hurrying. Now he tred softly, clung to shadows.

Something was about to go down.

Crask had a few steps on me. I zagged to the side, up stairs that climbed the face of an old tenement He didn’t notice His attention was focused ahead. I flattened out on the landing in front of a second-story doorway.

I trust my hunches, usually I’d had a sudden, strong one that this was no time for Garrett to be out in the open and a worse one to dive into shadowed alleys. I thought shadow and tried to become one with the chilly darkness, nothing but watching eyes

My hunch was good. I’d barely flattened myself out when every alley in sight barfed hard boys. Crask made hand signals. They all headed for the place that was the target of Crask’s good hand.

About then he noticed I wasn’t with him anymore. He looked around, startled, spat, cursed, and I knew I’d come one step short of stepping into a big pile of it, maybe.

Had he been leading me to the slaughter?

Joining his party sure didn’t look like a brilliant move. I stayed where I was and froze my tail and wondered.

What was wrong with the Serpent9 I’d been told and told that somebody who could make a book of shadows was a real heavyweight in the sorcery game. But she didn’t act like a heavyweight. Her sort, when they have any weight at all, aren’t bashful about throwing it around. But she did her pushing and shoving with second-string hired hands. It was confusing.

The state TunFaire was in, with all our witches and wizards and whatnot off to chase Glory Mooncalled, somebody like the Serpent ought to be able to do whatever she damned well pleased. But she was going about her search like she had no more power than crazy Fido.

Had she put it all into her book, then let that get away?

Sounded good. Sounded like she would be one desperate witch, cranky as a dragon with bad teeth.

Chodo’s hordes swept silently toward a tenement. The silence didn’t last. A big uproar broke out as soon as a couple got inside. There were enough illegal weapons in evidence to arm a company. The uproar inside reached battle pitch. People were getting hurt in there.

It didn’t last. The kingpin’s men started dragging captives outside, began forcing them to undress

Uh-oh. The Dead Man’s prophecy had come true.

I couldn’t hear the orders and threats Crask issued but didn’t need to. He had to be looking for tattoos.

I didn’t see the Serpent among the prisoners. Neither did Crask. He stomped around and cussed theatrically. I rested my chin on my forearms, shivered, and wondered how he’d known about the tattoos. Had I mentioned them? I couldn’t recall. I guess I must have when I was trying to direct Chodo’s attention toward the Serpent.

Crask didn’t accept defeat. He had his troops drag out the dead and wounded, lined everybody up, started his inspection all over again. The prisoners shivered and whimpered. The wind was merciless.

He found her. She’d assumed the form of a ratman. Short fur hid her tattoo. The second he made her he popped her upside the head, got a gag stuffed in her mouth and about forty-three miles of rope wrapped around her. She looked like a mummy. He wasn’t going to take no chances with a witch.

He barked orders, The wind stole them away I didn’t need to hear them. The hard boys started marching prisoners toward the river. I had a suspicion their life expectancies weren’t those of immortals.

Chodo isn’t a forgiving sort. These people had stomped on his toes, sort of. . . . He has no trouble conjuring justifications.

A half-dozen thugs shuffled off with the Serpent. Crask and a few buddies hung around.

Well. I thought to me, I thought, I guess this means Chodo wants him a little light reading, just to pass those chilly winter rights. A little something to peruse beside the fire.

He wouldn’t get the book from the Serpent. She didn’t have the foggiest where it was. But he’d get something. He always did. And she had managed to become a credible ratman. . . Ah There Crask went, back into that tenement, shoulders set like he meant to find something.

That would have been a good time to stroll on out of there—if about four of Crask’s buddies hadn’t been hanging out, keeping a wary eye.

I got me comfortable in a good position for shivering and thought about Holme Blaine. Why had he come to me as Carla Lindo? Why had he come at all? How had he known to come to me? Through contact with Easterman I could pursue that. Come morning. After a good sleep. If I thawed out enough. Sure be nice to head for bed. Why wouldn’t Crask’s clowns clear the street?

They didn’t do me any favors. In fact, I was getting suspicious that they had something on their pea brains besides the Serpent and her improbable book. They spread out, started poking into shadows and alleys. So.

Crask passed below me, massaging his arm. He muttered something about the cold and “I don’t get it. One second he’s right there beside me, the next he’s gone. He ain’t no spook. How’d he disappear?”

Who? Bet you guessed as fast as I did, What a bunch of guys.

I’d suspected it for a while. The kingpin’s boys don’t generally do you many favors I’d tried setting it aside because I didn’t want it to be true. But there it was. Chodo had something special in mind for a guy named Garrett. Maybe just a fancy dinner, a dip in the inside pool he’s got out to his place, with the hot and cold running blondes Maybe. Maybe Just a friendly chat, old times, like he’d mentioned in the coach. I didn’t want to find out. The streets aren’t filled with guys who have had chats with Chodo.

One of Crask’s boys came over and mumbled something I couldn’t catch Crask cussed and growled. “Keep looking!” Then he did an odd thing, for him. He went and perched on the steps of the raided tenement, rubbed his arm for a minute, rested his chin on his good fist, went away somewhere inside. If he hadn’t been Crask of the Crask and Sadler torture show, I’d have pegged him for a man wrestling with his conscience.

He stuck with it till all his boys had given up and gone away. Naturally, I stayed put. Me and my frozen fanny Ever have yours up in the air with a winter breeze tickling it? I wasn’t in any shape to outrun or outfight Crask, or even somebody’s granny, had no interest in trying and even less interest in visiting Chodo or maybe checking out the attractions on the bottom of the river. Frostbite can have its attractions.

Garrett is tough and patient. I outstubborned Crask. He finally had enough and went away. I pried my stiff bones loose from that porch and did the same. In another direction.

Boy, was I glad people never think to look up

31

I swung through the Safety Zone, found exactly what I expected to find. A big nothing. Morley’s place was dead and dark. I was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t time to start thinking about a wake.

I approached my place carefully. Crask might have it staked out.

Here was a problem that deserved some thought. I was too dependent on my home. If the bad boys wanted to hand me real trouble sometime, they’d just have to cut me off from my base.

Didn’t seem to be anybody around. Even that off-and-on presence behind me was absent. Nice that whoever that was occasionally slipped up or needed rest.

I hustled to the door and banged away. Dean opened up. I crabbed, “What took so long?” He answered me with one of his better glowers. He hadn’t taken long at all. The house was quiet. ‘Carla gone to bed?”

“Yes. I shall do so myself, now.”

“Where? Across her door?”

“The daybed.”

He didn’t give me what I deserved for my crack. Oh, well. “Sleep well.” I clumped into the Dead Man’s room. “Awake there, Old Bones?” It would be like him to take a two-week nap in the middle of things.

Yes. I gather you were frustrated again.

“It just gets worse,” I told him. “Any suggestions?”

Get some sleep. While the implications are disturbing, the information is tenuous. I will have to do considerable thinking.

“Get some sleep? That’s the best idea you’ve had in years.”

Do not allow frustration to embitter you, Garrett. We all suffer our unproductive days.

Easy for him to say. lie had unproductive centuries. “Your talent for noting the obvious remains unblunted.”

Indeed. But we cannot indefinitely continue to be in the wrong place or to arrive too late.

“We can’t? Want to bet?”

Despair does not become you, Garrett. Dawn follows the darkest hour as surely as the rains fall to earth. Put Chodo Contague out of mind. Rest. That is the most useful thing you can do at this point. Relax. And rejoice. He does not have the book itself.

He was right. The dead fat genius usually is. Sometimes he can’t be wrong if he wants. But: “No. He’s just got somebody who knows how to make a book. That son of a bitch would write his own.” I was in one of those moods where you’re contrary for contrariness’s sake. But maybe I’ve grown up some. I didn’t overindulge. “While you’re pondering, conjure me up a theory that explains the disappearances of Morley Dotes, Saucerhead Tharpe, and Sadler. And figure Out who’s following me like a ghost, so good I’ve never caught a glimpse.”

As to those disappearances, I do have a hypothesis. Two, in fact. But they must be tested. And I refuse to discuss them till you have slept.

I knew better but wasted time trying to pry something out of him. He wouldn’t budge. Does anybody ever budge? I don’t think they can. They only don’t or won’t. It’s always negative. How come?

See what kind of mind is out there leading the war on evil? Tsk-tsk.

He wouldn’t budge. And even a boulder anchored to bedrock is less stubborn than a dead Loghyr.

I gave up, shambled toward the doorway.

What news from the Caniard, Garrett? As though he hadn’t read my mind and found that I hadn’t bothered asking around. Just a little nudge, there—nudge, unfortunately, being one of those words that doesn’t come standardly negative. Old Bones nudges me a lot. Hinting that maybe if I cooperated more with him, he’d help me more. Right. Laziness is his reason for hanging around. He’s too damned lazy to finish dying.

I didn’t answer him. I tramped upstairs and threw myself into bed still clad, lay there searching my soul, tossing and turning, for at least seventeen seconds.

32

Dean wouldn’t let me sleep in. I got four hours of the kind of sleep that fires and earthquakes can’t interrupt, then he arrived. The ultimate disaster.

I cracked one eye a hundredth of an inch, heaved one leg over the side of the bed. That seemed good enough for a day’s work, but that old man wasn’t satisfied. He went for a bucket of water he had cooling out back. He found me sitting up when he got back. I grumped, “How come you couldn’t send Carla?”

“Because you wouldn’t get up. The sausages would burn, the biscuits would blacken, the kettle would boil dry while you tried to lead her astray.”

“You’re one suspicious and negative old goat.” I made an epic attempt to stand up. It didn’t work.

Dean chuckled. “I know you. If I don’t stay between you and Miss Carla, nothing will get done around here for the next two weeks.”

“I’m hurt. I’m in pain. Why don’t you just bring breakfast up here?”

He hefted the bucket of ice water.

“Whoa!” I blinked several times, taking my morning exercise. Dean eased over to a better spot, started to wind up. The man doesn’t know the meaning of mercy.

He sneered. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

“Huh?”

“My niece Ruth brought me fresh clothing. She’s downstairs. She’d love to serve you breakfast in bed.”

I groaned. The man won’t play fair. Talk about your double-whammy threat. Ruth is a nice kid. Lots of personality. You know how that translates. Dogs don’t howl when she goes by, they whimper and slink, hoping she won’t notice them. “I’m Out of my class now.”

He chuckled again. Evil old man.

Then I didn’t think well of myself for a minute. Ruth was nice. She couldn’t help her looks.

I got completely vertical and wobbled toward the hail. I made it downstairs without killing myself. I even pasted on a wan smile for the ladies in the kitchen. Carla and Ruth had a contest to see who could beam back the brightest. It was like staring into the rising sun. I dropped into a chair and shielded my eyes.

Dean was a prophet. Breakfast was sausages and biscuits, with hot tea My condition improved radically, though I never achieved sparkle. I staggered up and made the song march to the Dead Man’s room. “I’m here, Chuckles.” Plop into the chair.

Barely.

“Huh?” I had to figure it out. I’m not at my best in the morning. You may have noticed.

We have only one real option left. We have to be the first to find the book. I consider that imperative now. if we fail, it could mean disaster for TunFaire.

“Eh?” It was too ear’y. I’d left my brain upstairs snoozing.

After sustained reflection I have come to distrust the motives of my friend the Gnorst. The cues are small but there. He has succumbed to temptation.

“I thought so.”

We can, for the moment, ignore the Serpent. She has been neutralized. Easterman is of little account.

“You think? He’s got Winger playing for him.”

She is lucky to slay alive. Her luck will not last. No, Chodo Contague is the hunter who concerns me. The focus has shifted to his forces and those of the Gnorst. Both parties are far more formidable than the originals commanded by the witch and the madman. We now have the potential for a substantial conflict, perhaps fired by some personal animus, considering hints you picked up during your interview with the kingpin.

I had to slap me upside the head to get the clockwork ticking well enough to understand what he was saying.

‘Yeah Chodo had sounded bitter about dwarves and Dwarf Fort. He hadn’t been able to corrupt the place. Knowing him, he’d like to get in there and kick some ass. He don’t like it when folks aren’t afraid.

“We’re off to a scintillating start today, aren’t we? With your brains and my brawn I just know we’ll wrap it all up before lunch.”

You appear to be coming to life.

“Easy for you to say. All I got to do is breathe.”

We do have a lead, Garrett. An oblique angle that should not be difficult to pursue

“Could have fooled me.”

Assume our unclad guest was Holme Blaine.

“We know that for a fact.”

Not exactly, though it is highly probable. Now. Listen. You have spent considerable energy trying to guess why he came here but none on why he chose us in particular.

I was coming around. I could see both fragments of the hair he was splitting. “I thought about that.” But not very much.

You thought of the lead, too. The possibility that he came because he knew Miss Ramada was going to come.

“So you think I should see the people she talked to, find out if he talked to them, too, see if he left something with somebody.”

Exactly

“Guess I might as well ask her, then get cleaned up and changed and climb on my horse. The house being watched?”

Not obviously.

“You got any idea who’s been following me?”

No.

“Great. Well, what’s become of everybody who’s disappeared?”

You have not yet reasoned that out?

“No. I have not yet reasoned that out. Would I ask if I had?”

You remain as lazy as ever.

“Damned straight. I got you to figure for me. So give me the benefit of your wisdom. Without the standard shilly-shally.”

Dotes and Tharpe have gone underground because they expect you to bestride your white horse and charge Chodo Contague. I suspect. They read the signs early and moved quickly, seizing the head start.

“Wonderful friends 1 have.”

I have doubts myself. But I am not as mobile as they. My options are reduced. I am at your mercy. I have to stand and fight.

I grumped.

That is but a hypothesis, Garrett. Though a good one, I think. They know you. You are wont to fly in the face of good sense. Do you truly believe that it is your duty to rescue the world from Chodo Contague?

I grumped some more. How come everybody assumes whenever some baddy poots I’ll grab me my rusty sword? Hell. Considering how Crask wanted to round me up last night, even Chodo thinks that way. Hell again. I don’t want to think I’m predictable any more than the next guy does.

“What about Sadler?”

More difficult, as I have not had as many exposures to Mr. Sadler’s thought processes. My best guess is that he saw the implications of Mr. Contague obtaining the book and exhausted his patience.

“Say what?”

Have you never wondered about his unswerving loyalty?

“Only about a million times. Along with anybody else who ever had anything to do with the underworld.”

Reflect on that patient loyalty in light of what you suspect Mr. Contague might do with the Book of Dreams.

It took me a minute. Hell, it was still early in the morning, remember? I had an excuse. “Say what?” Tell me black is white. Tell me princes of the church are saints, our overlords are philanthropists, lawyers have consciences. I might believe you. I might give individuals the benefit of a doubt. But don’t try to sell me the notion that Sadler would turn on Chodo. “I don’t believe it.”

Have I not yet convinced you that what you believe is of no consequence? It is obvious, based on his questions, that Mr. Crask suspects a defection. If he acts upon that, the truth and your belief will not matter. My own inclination is to believe he would be correct in his assumption, considering hints underlying your last discussion with Mr. Sadler.

It’s a fact, perceptions have more impact than absolute truths. We humans belong to a tribe steadfast in its refusal to be confused by the facts. Still . . “Yeah, but Sadler just wouldn’t.” Would he? Even if the cripple he expected to replace any day came up with a way not only to evade death but to get healthy in the bargain?

Ah. You begin to use your head for something besides a device which keeps your hair from getting in the way when you eat. Excellent.

“Even I have a thought sometimes.” Not much of a comeback Hell. It was still morning.

There is some excitement outside. Perhaps news from the Cantard, long overdue. You might investigate.

Him and his hobby. “Sure. Why not? I’ll have plenty of time. Hell, I’ll borrow Dean’s broom and help the ratmen clean streets in my spare time.”

Mental sneer Sometimes he has a higher estimate of my abilities than I do.

I was losing the war there. Just too damned early. I retreated to the kitchen. “Carla Lindo, my lovely, I need your help. The Dead Man says Holme Blaine must have been in touch with some of the people you were in touch with when you were looking for somebody to help you. I need to talk to them. Soon as you tell me who they were.”

She eyed me about ten seconds, smoldering and crackling. The homely Miss Ruth lost her smile. I didn’t blame her. It plain wasn’t fair that the gods would give one woman so much advantage over another.

They ought to make them all gorgeous. Right?

“Actually, I only asked at the place where I was staying, with friends of my father. Everyone there who could think of anyone mentioned you.”

Oh, wonderful. Now I’m a household name. “So where do I go? Who do I see?” I’ll get the Dead Man one of these days. He knew already.

“I’d better go with you They’re a little odd there.”

“Wouldn’t be safe.”

“Why not? Your friend Chodo Contague captured the Serpent, didn’t he?”

Oh, boy. There just aren’t any secrets around my house.

I tried arguing. Carla Lindo turned deaf as a post. She wasn’t telling me nothing. It was show me or nothing. “I’ll be ready in a minute, Garrett.” She breezed out, leaving some sort of vacuum there in the kitchen. Dean grinned at me. He enjoys seeing me nonplussed. Actually more than nonplussed. Very minused. Even Ruth got a kick out of it, though I could see she envied Carla her power.

I never had a chance once Carla Lindo went to work on me. Someday, in about a thousand years, I’m going to develop an immunity to female charm. I don’t know if I look forward to that or not.

I made a tactical error. I was the one who took a while getting cleaned up and changed They never let you forget.

Sometimes I have to wonder if I’m as smart as I think. I Carla gave me some pretty good hints, but I didn’t tumble to the facts till we’d damned near walked through old Fido’s front door.

33

I stopped dead, stared at that bughouse, and thought I wasn’t going in there never again.

“Garrett? What’s the matter?” Carla Lindo was a couple steps ahead now, looking back, smoldering. How the hell did she do that? I stared at her some, too. I got a little less reluctant to head that way.

There wasn’t much traffic, but what there was seemed determined to run over any guys who stood around with their mouths hanging open, staring at pretty women.

I gobbled, “I’ve had it, babe. All I can take of this mess. I’m up to here with running around like a short-necked chicken, not knowing what the hell is going on, who’s going to do what to who, or why, always being a step too late.” I couldn’t tell her I was afraid to go back in there with that lunatic Easterman. Hell, I wasn’t going to admit that part to me. I just told me the same stuff I told her and added that I don’t much like hanging Out with guys whose brains are off in fairyland.

Without a word she turned up the heat, piled on the come-hither, stacked up the promises. I kept the drool off my chin, but she did get me shivering. “You sure you’re no witch yourself?” She couldn’t be that old and crafty. She couldn’t have discovered my weakness that quick.

She just smiled and tossed another sack of coal on the fire.

I muttered, “You’re going to carrot me right into somebody’s whipping stick, woman.”

“What?”

“Yo! Garrett! Just the clown I want to see.”

Oh, hell. Winger. Coming on like a galleon under full sail. Right behind her was the cadaverous old butler guy with the absurd name. I wondered if they were running a race. The old guy had stamina.

Carla Lindo gave Winger a look all trimmed up with daggers but lost it in about a second. Then she just gaped and tried to keep a straight face.

“Picked you up some new duds, eh, Winger?”

Winger stopped to do a pirouette. The old guy gained on her. “What do you think?”

“Colorful.” Old Mom Garrett’s favorite boy is shooting for another forty years He tries to stay neutral when somebody as mean as that dressed like that asks a question like that.

“Knew you’d like it.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Colorful was understating the truth.

Nobody has lousier taste and a worse idea how to dress than an ogre. This outfit would have stunned a nearsighted ogre. Splashes and panels of howling purples and screaming oranges and a limish green so virulent it fried your eyes. Some other colors in there that swirled venomously when she so much as breathed. Which meant what you saw was changing all the time. The total picture was so awesomely ugly it was almost hypnotic.

“Bet you’re surprised to see me in a dress.”

“Yeah.” Kind of a half-breed croak and squeak. I was in pain. I didn’t dare beg for mercy. That outfit should have been illegal. It was a deadly weapon.

“A dress? Is that what that is?” Carla Lindo asked.

Winger’s grin vanished. I got between the women fast. “Peace. Child’s new in town.”

“Who is that dung beetle, Garrett? Just so I can apologize polite like after I squish her into frog food.”

“Easy. She’s a friend of your boss.”

“He ain’t got no friends. That old spook—”

The old man caught up with her. He grabbed on to her arm and hung there puffing like he’d sprinted six miles. However dire his message, he couldn’t squeeze it out. In fact, he lost his grip and started to go down on his beak.

Winger caught him by the scruff and hoisted him up. “Watch out you don’t kill yourself, Pop.”

Carla Lindo stared at the old man. She wanted to say something, too, but couldn’t

“You come to see the boss, Garrett?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Then what I got can wait a couple. Maybe when we don’t got so many mouse ears around.” She turned the old man around and headed for home, holding him up with one hand. He kept trying to say something but couldn’t get it out. His collar was choking him.

“What was that?” Carla Lindo finally managed.

“That was Winger. Try not to aggravate her. She’s kind of like an earthquake. Not a whole lot of self-restraint.”

“1 believe it,” in a tone of total disbelief. Then, “Look at that!” as excited as a little kid Her attention span wasn’t much longer than Winger’s.

I looked.

Easterman had him a dragon.

A flying thunder-lizard was tethered atop the battlements of the runt black castle. It was being tended by a whole gang of morCartha doing their best to look like little devils. Easterman had them outfitted in some kind of suits but I couldn’t make out details. When they realized we were watching, they started howling and carrying on. The thunder-lizard started screeching. It seemed more bewildered than put out.

Carla asked, “Isn’t that neat?”

I was beginning to wonder about that girl. “The loonies have taken over Maybe I ought to start cutting out paper dolls and practicing talking backward.”

Carla Lindo didn’t get it.

Winger dropped the old man inside the entrance. He had caught his breath and, despite all, had lost none of his dignity “If you will follow me, sir? And madame.” Some kind of look passed between him and Carla Lindo.

What now?

He led us to the room where I’d met Easterman before. The place had changed. A wall or two had been knocked out to make it bigger and it had been redecorated in black and red. They’d brought in a big ugly black throne carved all over with the ugly sisters of those gals you wake up with the morning after a night when you drank one gallon of popskull too many. There was a lot of indirect, shifting red light that was supposed to make you think it had been piped in from Hell itself. And the resident mental basket case had added some new employees to the payroll. They included six of the biggest, ugliest, fangiest ogres I’ve ever seen. Tittering morCartha in formal evening wear were all over the place.

Easterman’s regulars, the old thugs with seniority, seemed embarrassed by the company they were keeping. One actually whispered, “He pays real good.”

“God, I hope so.” I began to wonder if Fido hadn’t picked out Winger’s wardrobe.

Easterman waited till he could make an entrance.

The fat man had him a new outfit, too. He’d chosen a few square miles of red accented with acres of black, I realized the black consisted entirely of little eyes.

Oh, my. Every eye was alive and looking around, blinking, or maybe winking over some private joke.

Easterman struggled up the steps of his throne, finally fell into its seat. There’s why I’m running, I told myself. So I don’t get like that . . . Oh, my, all over again. When his well-larded behind hit the seat, all those uglies carved on the throne got excited and started whispering to each other.

I gaped and gawked and wondered how he had come up with all this when he couldn’t enchant a rock into falling down, Then I got worried. Had he won the race? Had he grabbed the Book of Dreams?

I’d almost rather Chodo laid hands on it first. Chodo was predictable.

Fido got himself settled. He beamed down benevolently More or less. “Mr. Garrett. I’m so happy you came calling, sir. What do you think, sir?” He gestured. “Is this not an impressive setting?”

“Yeah. It’s that.” It was. “But I’m kind of partial to the old setup. Know what I mean?” It was only ninetypercent whacko before.

“We must change with the times, sir. We must change with the times, These present changing times are intriguing, are they not, sir? Here you are, an appellant, when but a short time ago you turned your back on me, a strutting cock. Yes sir, changing times

Carla Lindo gave me a puzzled look. I guess she didn’t know about my earlier chat with Fido. I asked, “Where did you get the idea I came here to beg for something?” That fat clown had my nerves frayed already. I should have been amused, should have had trouble keeping a straight face, but something kept making me want to hop up there and plant a boot in his face.

Not a smart move with all those ogres there to save his jowls.

“Plague!”

The old man did the hopping.

Easterman and the old guy traded melodramatic whispers while taking turns staring at me. Fido’s gaze flicked to Carla Lindo. He started looking puzzled. I had the impression he’d expected me to drop on my knees and crawl. I wasn’t and didn’t look like I would and maybe had no idea why I was supposed to.

Puzzled turned to troubled, Easterman stared at me, eyes narrowed more than seemed possible. “Are you making mock, sir?”

‘I’m not doing anything but standing here. I don’t know what your problem is, Fido. Sorry I’m not doing what you expect. I just dropped by with my friend Carla Lindo to ask who all you told about her business here in town.”

“What?”

“Miss Ramada stayed here when she first came to TunFaire, right9 She asked who could help her find a little bauble somebody swiped from her dad. . .

“I’ve never seen this woman before, sir.”

“People told her to come to me. Right? So . . .“ I stopped chattering.

Fido popped up and glared around. He eyeballed Carla Lindo. He sputtered. Spit flew. For a second I thought he was going to have a seizure

I didn’t really get it till Carla Lindo unfroze and started tugging on my arm and shaking her head Long after the whole herd of cats had flown out of the bag. She maybe stayed here, but old Fido hadn’t been in on it.

Easterman started roaring endearing sobriquets like Famine, War, and Pestilence. He took a moment out to tell his ogres, “Get that man out of here! I don’t want to look at his ugly face another second.” Then he went to foaming at the mouth.

Well. I never. Ugly? Maybe a little battered around the edges, but the dogs don’t howl. . . . I didn’t wait for the ogres. I latched on to Carla Lindo and headed for the exit. No sense dancing with those boys. The mood I was in, suddenly I’d have tried to break a head or three. I wouldn’t have been able to do the job justice before the sky collapsed on me.

“That was real bright, Garrett,” Carla Lindo said as soon as we hit the street. “You have a real golden tongue.”

“You could have told me something up front. You could have given me one teensy hint. The Dead Man is the mind reader, not me.” I spun around and dared an ogre to bring it out into the street. He looked over his shoulder to see how much help he’d get. He had no cavalry on the way. He just waved bye-bye. An ogre with sense. The times they are a-changing.

I faced Carla Lindo. “So what else haven’t you told me, sweetheart? You want me to help, you got to give me the tools. What the hell was that all about in there, anyway?”

She shrugged, stared at the pavement. “I didn’t know. . . . I never saw any of that before. I stayed with my uncle. My mother’s brother. One of the servants. When they took us to that room . . . I only ever saw that man from a distance before. My uncle just said he was a little potty.’’

“A little, yeah. Here you had me thinking you had an in with some Hill bigwigs.” I added another score to the list needing settling with the Dead Man. He could have warned me. His idea of a joke, probably, letting me find out the hard way.

“I sort of wanted you to think . .

“I figured that out.”

A shadow fell on the conversation, which was about to sneak on toward making up. Making up is always full of promise when a guy and a gal are doing it.

“Yo, Garrett! That was some brilliant show you put on in there. You foxed the old boy right out of his garters.”

“Don’t you start on me, Winger You want something, spit it out. If you don’t, you better scoot back in there and make sure old Fido don’t choke on his rug. You might miss a payday.”

“Hey. Here I come trying to be friendly, trying to build some bridges, and all you want is to start a fight.”

“Want to build a bridge?” I grumbled “Tell me what’s with the new look in there. What’s with the zoo on the roof?”

“Old goof is getting set for the new era. Getting his props together so he’ll have the right look once he gets hold of the Book of Dreams.”

“Huh?” That’s Garrett. Swift on the uptake.

“Claims he knows where it is.”

“Where?”

“He didn’t tell me. He don’t trust me.”

Couldn’t say I blamed him for that. Winger would sell him out to the highest bidder if she got the chance. “Any hints?”

She shook her head. “Just said it’s there for the taking soon as he figures how to get past one big obstacle.”

Probably like not knowing where it was. “The Serpent? Chodo Contague grabbed her last night.” Finding some guile at last, I figured maybe I could keep an eye on Fido, grab the book from him after he grabbed it, before he could start using it.

“We heard. Who cares? He isn’t interested in her, except to stay out of her way and grab the book before she does.”

All hell broke loose overhead. Daytime or not, the morCartha from Fido’s roof went on the warpath. Easterman’s human servants yelled at them to come back or get fired. I asked, “What the hell9”

Winger said, “They do that. Probably spotted a critter from another tribe.”

“I should’ve stayed in bed.” This was all Dean’s fault.

“You know where the book is, Garrett?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here, would I? I’d be waving bye-bye to my friend at the west gate.” I gave Carla Lindo a one-armed hug I’d at least be trying to collect a suitable reward.

Winger ignored Carla Lindo. “We got to have a sit-down, see what we can come up with if we put our heads together.”

“Right.”

She didn’t catch my sarcasm. I think she was immune to it, or at least deaf. Besides being color-blind She said, “That thing’s still worth a fortune, Garrett. Word is, there’s a dwarf willing to put up big money for it. More than Easterman would”

“You going to turn on him?”

“If there’s money in it.” Like maybe I had that kind of cash Sure In my sock. She said, “He never did nothing to make me want to stay loyal. He treats them damned ogres better than me and they don’t have my seniority.”

I chuckled. “You’re one in a million, Winger.”

“I know. But don’t let it get to you. I ain’t ready to settle down. But you’ll be first on my list when I am.”

I don’t often get caught without something to say. I did that time. I just stood there with my mouth open wondering if maybe she wasn’t a whole lot sharper than I thought.

She said, “You get a line on that book and you need some help, get in touch. I’ll go in for a split.” She marched back toward Easterman’s hovel.

Carla Lindo snickered. “You’ve made a conquest.”

I bellowed. She took off, giggling. I took off after her. People stared. She didn’t run too fast. I didn’t either. The view was much too entertaining from second place.

This was more like life ought to be.

I caught her. She leaned against me, panting, making it plain she was willing to be caught. Hell. There we were in the middle of a street with nowhere to go.

That’s the story of my life. Whenever I do win the prize, I can’t collect. “Let’s go home and try to figure out where the hell Easterman thinks that book is.” I had a feeling he Was sure he knew where it was. Thinking that gave me an idea. “Any chance this uncle of yours would know what his boss is thinking?”

“No.” She looked sad. “And if he did he wouldn’t tell. He’s really afraid he’d never get another job if Easterman throws him out. He’s too old.”

“Wonderful.” We walked a ways, snuggling. I felt just a touch guilty doing that only a couple of blocks from Tinnie. Must be getting old. “You really still need the book? Chodo’s got the Serpent. I’d say it’s a safe bet she won’t be back to haunt your dad”

She had to think about that awhile. Most of the way home, in fact. Then she said, “I could go home without it, I guess. But only if I was sure it’d been destroyed. My father would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

Well, hell

34

I was still explaining to the Dead Man and getting hell for not having snatched Fido by the short hairs and twisted till he sang when Dean stuck his head in the room. “There’s a gentleman to see you, Mr. Garrett.”

I’d heard the knock. I’d hoped it was for me. The Dead Man was way up on his high horse, really smoking. I couldn’t get a word in to suggest he consider the facts of the situation. I guess I was supposed to have taken care of Fido’s troops with my free hand while I was twisting and yanking and humming along.

The gentleman at the door wasn’t. That was Dean’s way of making a snide social observation. The guy was a mixed-breed kid of obscure antecedents sneaking up on adolescence His outstanding feature was the most awful set of teeth I’ve ever seen. He could pass as an ugly ogre or uglier human if you needed a stand-in for one of those. He said, sneering, “You Garrett?” Like he’d heard of me and wasn’t impressed.

“Last time I checked.”

“Got a paper for you.” He shoved something at me and lit out before he saw if I had a grip on it. I didn’t, It fell onto the stoop, started tumbling on the breeze. I dashed out and hunted it down. Naturally, the door swung shut behind me. The latch fell and caught. I cussed it and kicked and pounded till Dean let me in. He didn’t say anything, just smirked, “Go scrub a pot or something,” I grumbled.

I took myself to my office, planted me in my chair. I asked Eleanor, “Why the hell don’t I take that job at the brewery? There something wrong with me? I enjoy abuse?

I could get me a room right there in the plant. You and me. I could go tap a vat whenever the mood hit me. I could spend the rest of my life holed up there.”

Eleanor didn’t have any answers. She just gave me her enigmatic look. Nobody was on my side anymore. I uncrumpled the wad of paper.

It was a note, but it took me a while to decipher the primitive printing. Before it became a vehicle for deathless prose, it had been used to wrap fried fish or something.

We got to talk. Srnkler. Statue. Soon. Sadler.

Interesting. I hadn’t thought he could read or write. He wasn’t a threat to anybody doing illuminated manuscripts but he was a match for any educated seven-year old. And he had all the words spelled right. Amazing.

Sadler. One of my many missing men. I couldn’t turn him down.

But when to meet? He didn’t state a time.

I didn’t jump up and run over, though. Despite my interest. That sort of thing isn’t done if you care to survive in this line. There are proprieties one observes when dealing with mysterious messages. Like sending some sucker . . . er, friend . . . to scout the terrain. “Hey, Dean.” I didn’t have anybody else left.

“I have dishes and laundry to do, Mr. Garrett. One extra body seems to triple the workload around here.” This from the kitchen, shouted.

“Wait a minute   

“I don’t have time to run any errands.”

Who the hell is the mind reader around here? “How did you know .

“That’s your favor-asking voice. Perhaps you could send Miss Ramada.”

He sucked me in there. I wouldn’t send Carla Lindo. And because I wouldn’t, he’d know I hadn’t been about to send him after rutabagas so we could have rutabaga pie tonight. In the following silence I could almost hear his brain creaking and squeaking as he mulled over how to get even for me even considering getting him involved in something chancy.

I caught the edge of a mental chuckle from across the hall. I was everybody’s entertainment. I got up and plodded into the kitchen, drew me a beer. “You’re going to stay on after I get married, aren’t you? We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Dean’s face brightened He forgot all about me thinking of sending him out where the bad winds blow. He knew he wasn’t going to get rid of one of his nieces but having me shackled to any woman was the next best thing. He was a born-again advocate of marriage, though he’d managed to evade martyrdom himself. “It would be an honor to serve Miss Tinnie, Mr. Garrett.”

I felt almost bad, digging at him like that. Almost. “Not who I’ve got in mind.”

“Miss Maya certainly is devoted to you, but don’t you think she’s a bit young for a man of your years?”

My years? He’d get no mercy now. “Not Maya. I’m thinking about asking Winger. You got to admit, she’s more my type. We’d make a hell of a team out on those mean streets.”

He looked scandalized, horrified, proceeded rapidly toward apoplectic. His face got red. He gulped for air. I poured it on. “I’m not really cut out for these sleek little beauties, Dean. I need somebody who can be a real partner. A pal. A real man’s man everywhere but in the dark. I think Winger is the gal I’ve been waiting for. She’s a take-charge type. She’d get things straightened out around here.”

Garrett!

I must have overdone it. That squeak of horror came from up front.

I’m used to Dean taking everything too serious, to him taking forever to figure out he’s being ribbed. But not the Dead Man. I finished up, “Don’t you think?”

Dean just stood there with a pan dangling from one hand, his mouth open and his eyes crossed. He looked so forlorn I almost let up. If Carla Lindo hadn’t been upstairs, I would have. Instead, I headed for the front door.

“I’d better take care of it right away.”

35

Does anybody know who this guy Sinkler was? Does anybody care? Somebody put up a statue, didn’t they?

Hell, maybe that ugly hunk of rock was there when they built the city. It looks worn out enough. If anybody does know, they haven’t been talking. Whatever Sinkler did, it’s a secret from me. Only the pigeons have much use for him. They perch on his upraised arms and tricorner hat and wait for primo targets to come by. Once upon a time he was covered with copper. Thieves took care of that ages before I was hatched.

Sinkler stands in the center of a small square where five streets butt heads, maybe half a mile northwest of my place. His main significance to me is he marks the frontier between your ordinarily dreadful city and the Bustee, which makes any part of town you care to name look like a suburb of heaven. The Bustee is where the real poor folks live. The Bustee is a quarter Chodo Contague wouldn’t enter without an army, let alone wimps like the Watch. Hell, it’s gotten so bad lately some of the landlords have gotten chicken to collect their rents.

Of course, a Chodo wouldn’t bother going into the Bustee. People there are so poor they can’t afford names. They survive by looking poorer than their neighbors.

Hell on earth. In the Marines I met guys out of there. They thought the Corps was great, despite the war. They got food to eat, clothes to wear, shoes on their feet, their life expectancies were better in the Cantard than at home, and they even got paid. So how come you rich boys are all pissing and moaning?

My folks never had a pot to pee in, but I’d grown up rich compared to those guys.

You’d think those people would bust out and go berserk. They never have. Like nobody is taking advantage of the fact that all the lords of the Hill are off to catch Glory Mooncalled. People have a sense of order and place and caste. Most figure if they’re poor and dying of starvation, the gods want it that way. Probably they earned it in a former life.

It’s a strange world. It’s people are stranger.

What am I on about? What’s this got to do with Sadler or the Book of Dreams? Not a damned thing. Just indulging the social observer within.

Speaking of Glory Mooncalled, there was a lot of talk. News had come north. People were telling perfect strangers. They’d grab you by the shirt to get you to hold still long enough so they could get the thrill of being first to tell you.

Mooncalled had engineered some apocalyptic collision between the massed Karentine and Venageti armies but lost most of his own making it happen. He was on the run. Or maybe not, depending on your informant. I hung out with Sinkler and absorbed stones. I’d hand them all to the Dead Man when opportunity arose. If ever it did.

I’d spent an hour perched on the pedestal where Sinkler stood, spreading his benevolence. I was beginning to suspect I’d been tricked. At best Sadler wasn’t making it easy. Whatever he had in mind. If it was Sadler who sent that message.

It was. He showed eventually. He came creeping out looking around like he was into the loan sharks for half a million and hadn’t made his vigorish in a year. I didn’t recognize him till he was almost in my lap. He looked like a bum. He wasn’t the lethal character I knew and loathed.

He settled beside me, all scrunched up so his size wouldn’t give him away. He started throwing crumbs to the pigeons. Nobody would recognize him doing that.

“Where you been?”

“Underground. Had to do some thinking. Couldn’t just keep on after I knew why Chodo wanted that book.”

“Um?”

“Think what he could do with it.”

“I have been. One reason I’m not fond of the idea of him glomming on to it.”

“Me neither. Crask too.”

“Crask?”

“Took him a little longer but he figured it out. He got a message to me. We met up and talked. We decided we got to do something. We want to bring you in.”

His crumbs had brought in pigeons from miles around. They’d been climbing over each other. Now they exploded off the pavement. I glanced up, figuring a flight of thunder-lizards was coming in. But the birds had panicked because of one lone morCartha who appeared to be drunk. Sadler expressed my sentiments for me. “Out in the daytime now, too. Somebody ought to do something. Put a bounty on them, maybe. Give the kids something to do besides cut purses and roll drunks.”

Yeah. Things just aren’t the way they were in the old days. We had us some respect when we were kids. And so forth. I knew that routine by heart. “How come you’re coming to me?”

“You just said you don’t want Chodo getting that book.”

“I don’t want anybody to get it. Not him, not you, not Crask, not the Serpent, not Gnorst Gnorst or Fido Easterman. Hell, I wouldn’t trust the old guy who keeps house for me with it. There isn’t anybody alive who could resist the temptation.”

He thought a minute. “Maybe. I can figure all I could do with it if I could read for shit.”

“You can’t?”

“My name. A few signs and things I seen all my life. I never got a chance to learn. In the army they didn’t teach guys like they did you Marines.”

“That was luck.” That was something I’d brought away with me. I suspect, though, that I’d been more motivated than Sadler had. “But you sent a note.”

“Crask wrote it. He picked up a little here and there. I been thinking we could get us a tutor after Chodo croaks and we take over Only now it don’t look like he plans on checking out, ever.”

“So you’re figuring on helping him along.”

“Something like that.”

“I don’t do assassinations.”

“You was in on the old kingpin biting the big one.”

“He didn’t bite it, it bit him. And you know how it went down. Morley Dotes set me up If Saucerhead or I had known what was happening, we’d have been on the other side of town instead of helping Dotes lug his vampire.”

“You help us, Garrett, you’d have friends could help you back.”

“How? Chodo embarrasses me now, carrying on like I was his favorite kid.”

Sadler was startled. Why? He grinned but didn’t say. He had lousy teeth “Maybe so. But he sure as hell ain’t never going to give you that book.”

“Would you9”

“I can’t read and Crask ain’t much better. You figure we could hire somebody to read it for us9 You figure we could have that thing and hang on song enough to learn how to read? Without everybody in the world coming after us?”

“You have a point But I have a problem.” I don’t do assassinations. I didn’t have much use for Chodo but didn’t want in on sending him to the big rackets in the sky. He hadn’t earned it from me.

I didn’t not want in badly enough to tell Sadler no, though. He might decide I had to be put to sleep so I wouldn’t tell anybody his plan. “It don’t look like I have too many options. How you going to do it?” It’s called temporizing.

“Old Chodo, he’s going to be partying tonight. Going to be distracted His daughter is in town for the wingding he throws her every year   

“His what?”

“His daughter.” Sadler laughed. “Not a lot of people know about her You’d like her. She’s a looker Must take after her old lady I never saw the broad. Before my time, Chodo put her away himself ‘cause he caught her screwing the guy who was the boss back then. So what? History is history. Important thing is, he’s throwing a birthday party tonight. Goes on like they have before, everybody will drink themselves blind arid pass out. Me and Crask figure if we hit about three in the morning, it’ll he a walk.”

“Why do you need me, then?”

He grinned again He was doing more of that than in all the time I’d known him. “Garrett, you do that innocent so damned good. Man, I wish I could do that.”

“Glad you get a kick out of it. Because I really don’t know what the hell you’re yapping about

“Sour today. Little chickie tell you no? Okay. You remember a while back we all had us a problem with that thing that thought it was a dead god? Wanted to bring itself back to life?

That wasn’t all that long ago I didn’t want to remember. That had been a hairy one. There’d been some sick people involved. Only good that came out of it was Maya. “I remember.”

“No wisecrack? You must be getting old. So One day you come out to the house. Dotes was with you. We gived you a little stone. An amulet, like Eh? Maybe you thought we forgot to take it back”

I’d been hoping. That stone was hidden in the Dead Man’s room with our most precious possessions. I’d expected to have to use it someday.

It was a magical gizmo that kept the thunder-lizards away, Chodo isn’t fond of unannounced visitors. To discourage them, he has his grounds walled. Behind the walls he keeps whole herds of small, carnivorous thunder-lizards. They’re more efficient than dogs, though he has packs of those, too. Thunder-lizards don’t leave much evidence laying around. No telling how many valiant adventurers have scaled Chodo’s wall only to become monster munchies.

“You set me up.”

“We thought it might be handy someday, having one on the outside.”

“You guys are too damned smart for me

“That’s a fact.”

 I doubted it, but he and Crask were a lot smarter than they let on. “So you need the stone to get through to the house, where everybody’s going to be polluted. Then what?”

“Then Chodo expires in his sleep. Maybe because they’re all drunk and not watching what they’re doing, a couple thunder-lizards get inside and gobble up a few guys who been trying to take over me and Crask’s spots.”

“You think you can run the outfit?”

“Between us we can. It don’t take a lot of running. We got the machine all oiled up. We go break somebody’s head once a month or so, it keeps running smooth. We can handle that.”

No doubt. “And I get the book, eh?”

“Soon as we find out where it is. That’s a promise. And we’ll find it. You know that.”

They would if they wanted. But would they really deliver? That is, would they bother collecting it if it turned out to be in the clutches of a Fido Easterman or would they just point me in the right direction? “Three in the morning, eh?”

“I know you been keeping regular hours But that’s the way it is.”

Another night without much steep. And no nap between now and then because I’d be trying to think of a way to slide out of being part of a gangland killing.

Morley would say this was an opportunity to show I wasn’t under Chodo’s thumb, forgetting it would give Crask and Sadler a rather ferocious hold on me Speaking of Morley Dotes, where was he? Now I needed a helpful hand. Not to mention Saucerhead. “Hey, you got any idea what’s become of Dotes and Tharpe?”

“Nope. Still sulking?”

“Looks like.” Something about his answer told me he really didn’t know. Probably it was the fact that his tone said he didn’t care

He asked, “You aren’t thinking about bringing them guys with you?”

I caught the edge of something there. “No.” This deserved some thought. “Just haven’t seen them since this mess started. I’m concerned.”

“Um. I been sitting still too long. Got to keep moving. Don’t want to let anything catch up. We’ll meet you at the milestone on the hill down the road from Chodo’s place. Two o’clock. Bring that amulet stone.”

“Sure.”

Sadler went away, stooped like he was a hundred and ten. He did it pretty good. I wouldn’t have recognized him from a distance.

I wondered what they would do if I didn’t show.

He’d left his packet of crumbs. I fed the pigeons while I mused, till some jerk came up and pounced, wanting to tell me all the latest from the Cantard.

36

I hadn’t gone a block when Winger fell into step beside me “Must be my lucky day

She asked, “What was that about?” No sensitivity, Winger I wondered if she could be insulted.

“What’s what about?”

“Your little cheek-to-cheek with Chodo’s boy Sadler.”

So she had an eye. His disguise hadn’t fooled her. “You’re too nosy, along with all your other charms.”

“That’s what they tell me.” She gave me a big grin, followed with a comradely punch to the shoulder. Would I ever get used to her? Tell the truth, I hoped I didn’t have to. There were moments when I wished the odds would hustle up and overtake her. “Bet I can figure it.”

“Go right ahead.” I did my surly best to lengthen my stride till she couldn’t keep up. Lot of good it did me. She cruised along, had me huffing and puffing before I was halfway home. Big old country girl.

“How’s this, Garrett? Sadler and his boyfriend figure out their hopes for moving up ain’t worth squat if their boss grabs that book. Eh?” Big chuckle, up from the gut, like a Saucerhead Tharpe chuckle. They put in their time, played it straight, figure they deserve better. Eh?”

“That you been following me all over?” I hadn’t sensed her presence at all. Nor that other presence, if that hadn’t been her Scary, her that close and me not feeling a thing And her in that outfit.

“Only since you left Easterman’s hangout Them guys want you to help them promote themselves, don’t they?”

Was I giving myself away? Usually I do good hiding my thoughts. She laughed. “Yeah. I thought so. When they going to do it?”

“What’re you babbling about? You been smoking weed?”

“Sure. My imagination’s gone berserk. You ever seen that place that Chodo lives?”

“I’ve been there.”

“Bet whoever cleans that out would be set for life.”

“Be a short life if somebody tried.”

“Them thunder-lizards? No problem. Your pals got some way to get past them. I ride in on their coattails, stay low while they’re doing the dirty deed, grab a sackful of the best loot, hightail out in the confusion afterward. No big deal.”

Incurable optimism. “When did you get out to look at the place?”

“I get around. You made a big deal about the guy being bad, I figured I had to check him out.”

“You ever sleep?”

“I got a lot of energy You do when you got ambition. You, you’re an old box turtle. Never move unless you’re starving and then only far enough to get yourself fed. You’re never going to amount to anything, Garrett.”

Was she taking lessons from Dean? “I manage. I have my own house. Not many can say that.”

“I heard about how you made the money, too. People kept sticking pins in your ass till you did something. Then you fell in the shit and came up with a sack of gold.”

It really was something like that But I do think I gave value for money. I stomped up the steps to my front door. Winger invited herself along. I thought about tossing her hack when I recalled my little joke on Dean. What the hell? It would do his old heart good to get to pounding. I knocked.

Dean opened up. He took a look at Winger. His face scrunched up but he didn’t say anything. Winger said, “How you doing, Pops? You got any more of that good beer? I’m dry as a mummy.” She gave him a friendly thump on the chest. He almost went down. He regained his balance, took off down the hall shaking his head.

Only after I shut the door behind her did I recall how things had gone last time Winger visited. I had to see the Dead Man and couldn’t let her run amuck while I did. No telling what would leap into her pockets. “Come on. It’s time you met my partner. I shouldn’t use that word so close to him. He’d make a point of bringing it up.

My partner was as thrilled to meet her as he’d be to be the star at a witch burning. Carla Lindo could charm him some, but even she was a woman, and I’d not be forgiven for having her around so long. Winger was something else. Say she lacked Carla Lindo’s grace.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“The Dead Man. My sidekick. Not as frjsky as some, but he does his part. If you light a fire under him.”

“That ain’t no man, Garrett. That’s some kind of thing. Gots it a snoot like a mammoth. Gods, it’s ugly. Kind of ripe, too.” Like I said, a real charmer. All the sensitivity of a dire wolf.

Garrett!

We must have caught him dozing. I expected him to get peckish sooner. “News from the Cantard, Old Bones. Your boy maybe weaseled out one more time. Got the big boys butting heads . . .“ He wasn’t going to buy.

This time you have gone too far! Why have you brought that creature into my home?

Oh-oh. He was piqued. He’s very precise in his word choices. If he had used my house, he’d just have wanted to squabble to kill time. My home . . . Well, he was not pleased. He felt violated.

“So I can keep an eye on her. Wouldn’t want some unscrupulous rake making a move on her before

Stuff that nonsense. Play that game with Dean if you like, but I know you better.

“Had you going there, didn’t I?”

Do what needs doing, then get her out.

Hey! He was willing to work to get shut of her. All right. I’d finally found a way to twist his arm.

Garrett!

“Right.”

Winger looked at me like I was foaming at the mouth.

   The Dead Man wasn’t giving her his half of the conversation. She asked, “You talking to that thing?”

“Sure. He’s just dead, he isn’t gone.”

Report, Garrett! Get on with it.

I did. Every little detail.

I suggest you play along for the time being. He let Winger catch that. She jumped about a foot, grabbed the sides of her head. Her eyes got big as she wondered if he could look inside there as easily as he put thoughts in. I think she would’ve attacked him if she hadn’t been so shocked.

“Play along Right. My sharpest skill. And when the crunch comes, how do I get out of committing murder? Or at least becoming a heavyweight accessory to same?”

The Dead Man sent the mental equivalent of a shrug. You will manage. You always do. Tell me more about what has happened in the Cantard.

Back to normal. He had his bluff in again. He thought. How about you suggest a way I can keep them from killing me once I’ve helped with the dirty work.”

Really, Garrett. Your stubborn refusal to think for yourself is becoming a burden. He paused. Since you have developed a fondness for this Winger person, and she has the intent anyway, why not take her along? She has shown herself capable of handling one of them already. I foresee an unbeatable team here.

Did I walk into that one? I sprinted. And did all the setup work, too. I couldn’t raise a fuss without Winger maybe getting upset and busting me upside the head.

A hint of mental snicker, private, for me alone. The devil.

It wasn’t my day. It wasn’t my week. If I went along to help ice Chodo, it might not be my lifetime.

“Sounds good to me,” Winger said. It would. She’d already invited herself along once. Now she had the Dead Man’s blessing.

I noted that she had caught her balance fast. The Dead Man had become old news She watched me expectantly, like she wondered how much originality I’d show trying to weasel out.

“I should’ve been a clown,” I grumbled. “I’m everybody’s entertainment anyhow.”

The Dead Man’s laughter was silent but evil.

Winger’s wasn’t silent.

I heard a sound, glanced back. Dean was in the doorway. Grinning.

My get-even list was getting too long to keep in my head. I was going to have to get me a diary to keep track.

37

I don’t know why I left the house after I got rid of Winger. I guess because the Dead Man was riding me with spurs on, digging them in deep. My joke about Winger had turned on me. I didn’t dare go to the kitchen without Dean ragging me, too.

Out seemed like a good idea at the time. Especially when the Dead Man said he’d like to know what Gnorst was up to now. I grabbed the out.

So I went to see the sneeze man. Actually, I just left a message at the door. Gnorst wasn’t receiving. I suspect he especially wasn’t receiving people with connections to old pals.

I headed for home. I got the notion I could root Carla Lindo out of her room and weep on her shoulder. She hadn’t ridden me. She’d been especially understanding, in fact. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure we were going to become great friends real soon now. I started getting high on anticipation.

You may have noticed that things have a way of catching up with me whenever I feel too positive. The god who hands out the towels in the heavenly loo has a sideline. Messing with Garrett. He’s such a puny, useless god they couldn’t find anything better for him to do. But he’s really good at messing with me. He works at it so hard I think he’s bucking for a promotion.

I was a block from my place, trotting toward Macunado on Wizard’s Reach. I stopped suddenly.

They came out of nowhere They closed in carefully.

There were six of them. I didn’t know them but they had to be Chodo’s boys.

The street cleared magically. I struck some martial-arts poses, made me some nifty yells. That just kept them from getting overconfident.

They were good. They would be, of course. Otherwise they wouldn’t be on the first team. And they’d been briefed on what to expect, which was to expect the unexpected. I’ve been known to yank tricks out of my sleeves.

Today I was fresh out, not counting the old-fashioned lie. I got one guy to turn his head by yelling, “Hey! Morley! Just in time for the party.”

That was the only good Morley did me all week, and he wasn’t even there. I laid that guy out with a flying kick and just kept going for about six feet. Then I was out of running room. A building jumped in my way.

They closed in. I hauled out my stick. We mixed it up. I dinged two pretty good. I wasn’t worrying about how bad I hurt them. They apparently wanted me alive. At least a little Nobody bothered explaining anything to anyone

The scuffle lasted longer than they planned. Our dancing and prancing brought some of the bolder neighbors back outside, especially the kids. Some were kids I knew. Did they lend a hand? Did they run to the house to tell somebody I was in trouble? They did not.

These are the little people, the ones I thought needed a champion when I outfitted myself with creaky idealistic armor. Sometimes people make it damned hard to care about people. Sometimes they do their damnedest to make it seem they deserve whatever they get.

Oh, well. I made a showing till somebody got my stick away from me and tried it out on my skull.

A black pool opened at my feet. .

I didn’t dive in. I sort of belly-flopped and floated there with my nose above the surface. I vaguely recall sagging between two thugs while a third summoned a waiting coach. The coach came. My buddies helped me dive inside. Somebody did a drumroll on my noggin, then they dumped their injured in on top of me.

My head stuck out of the pile. The guy with my stick tapped it every little bit, like he was trying out different patterns of lumps. I would fix him with some patterns of his own if I got the chance.

Even my skull has limits. I went off to dreamland.

The sandman isn’t all bad. Before we left the city, before I wakened with an all-time headache, he got rid of the three guys piled on top of me. Hell. I had it whipped. I outnumbered them now.

The headache was a memorable effort. At least I remembered it better than any I had before. I’d been thumped hard enough to generate a small concussion. I’d puked all over the coach floor Recently, too. The guy with the stick was still cussing me. His partner, riding with his back to the horses, observed, “You bopped him too many times. What you expect?”

“Hell, we’ll probably just end up croaking him. Why’d he got to go make a mess?”

“Inconsiderate of him.”

“Sure as hell was. I’m gonna gotta clean it up. I always get stuck with the shit jobs.”

A philosopher and a complainer. The philosopher said, “You don’t plan to go messy when your turn comes? You just going to take the hit and fold politely?”

“I ain’t going.” Sullenly.

The philosopher chuckled. How could a guy with his realist’s outlook stay in the niche he’d chosen? He said, “Least we know he ain’t dead yet. I never saw a stiff puke. I was worried Chodo’d have a litter if we delivered a deader.”

“Why? He’s gonna be dead anyway.”

“We don’t know that He didn’t say that.”

“Shit.”

“All right. There ain’t much doubt. But Chodo wants to talk to him first To apologize, maybe. They used to be buddies or something.”

Or something. I’d never counted on Chodo’s gratitude being bottomless. I wondered if there was a connection between this and my chat with Sadler.

“Shit. He’s crazy,” the complainer said.

“Sure. And he’s the kingpin, too.”

Grumble grumble. Lots of use of that favorite four-letter word. I wondered if they knew I was awake. I wondered if I was being snookered.

The philosopher began rhapsodizing on the passing scenery. A nature lover. Some city boys get that way in the country. A plain old willow is a cause for wonder. His observations suggested we were on the road to Chodo’s place already. We were in some wooded hills, That meant we weren’t more than a mile or two from the place I was supposed to meet Crask and Sadler later. The woods would give way to vineyards on the north slopes, though there would still be patches of trees alongside the road. If I wanted to stay healthy, I ought to do something before we reached the vineyards. There wasn’t cover enough to make an escape over there.

Only my body didn’t feel like doing anything. Maybe next week. Maybe after the swelling went down.

It’s real hard to find much ambition after you’ve had your noggin used for a drum.

The way the horses were straining I guessed we were climbing Hornet Nest Hill, a long steep climb. Near the top the road makes a backward S-curve, climbing what amounts to a bluff, before it leaps the ridge and heads for the end of the woods. Perfect. I could dive out the door and over the side, roll down the hill, and disappear before these thugs could get their mouths closed. I told my body to get ready.

My body said go to hell. It wasn’t moving. Moving hurt.

The carriage stopped.

The complainer opened a door, asked, “What’s up?”

“I don’t know,” the driver told him. “The horses don’t want to go any farther

Say what? Me and horses don’t get along. If there’s any way for them to mess me around, they will. I couldn’t picture them not galloping all the way to carry me to my execution. Unless they wanted to mess with me some themselves before letting Chodo have me. . . . Hell. I couldn’t keep that game going. I felt too lousy.

The philosopher edged the complainer out of the doorway. “Hang on, Mace. Don’t push them. Maybe they know something.” He got out of the coach. His buddy followed him. “Could be that shoemaker’s bunch. Was I to set an ambush, I’d put it right up there, just before the top. Where the cut is, with the drop on the right. Leaves you nowhere to duck

They debated. The sullen one tossed in two sceats worth of let’s get rolling, there ain’t no damned ambush. The philosopher suggested, “Why don’t you go up and look?”

They argued. The complainer sneered. “Candyass! I’ll show you.” I heard his feet crunch the road surface. He sent opinions back meant to keep the curl in the philosopher’s hair.

Come on, Garrett! This is it. They’ve handed it to you. All you have to do is fall through a door and roll down a hill. Or the other way around. You have the necessary skills.

My body told me, all right, I’ll let you open one eye.

I did. I couldn’t see squat because I wasn’t facing the door.

The driver observed, “Something’s up. He’s slowing down “Like maybe the philosopher had bad eyes.

The philosopher called, “What is it, Winsome?”

I wished I had the energy to laugh Winsome? Was that a nickname?

Did I have a death wish? The philosopher was talking from near the head of the team. They were handing me it on a platter and all I could do was turn my head enough to look outside and see that we were exactly where I’d guessed

Come on, Garrett!

I reached back for the old reserves and found I had enough to lever myself up enough to see that they hadn’t dressed me up in ropes or shackles. I could leap up and dash away after leaving my dreaded mark slashed into the property of the evildoers.

Winsome yelled something about a bad smell.

I heard a footstep Cunning me, I lay down where I’d been and made like a guy who was going to snore for another week. The philosopher must not have watched many guys come back from a thumping. He bought it.

He pulled an illegal sword from beneath his seat, told the driver, “Don’t move,” and went stomping up the road.

The driver cussed the horses. The animals were getting restless.

My body began to yield to my will. I got onto my knees slowly so as not to rock the coach and alert the driver. I looked out the open door at the woods. I don’t usually have much use for the country, but from where I knelt at that moment ticks and chiggers and poison ivy didn’t sound bad at all. I eased forward, poked my head out far enough to look uphill.

One guy was almost to the top. He seemed uncomfortable. Only his brags were keeping him up there. The other was striding toward him, sword in hand.

One quick dive over the edge, Garrett. Your best chance.

Ha! said my body. No you don’t.

I was recovering. And they were giving me time I could use to recover some more, talking up there. I wondered what was going on. I wondered even more about that reference to a shoemaker.

Maybe if I lived, I’d figure it out.

38

If I didn’t get off my ass soon, I was going to lose a lot of respect for me. Not to mention aforesaid ass. I’d regret it the rest of my life. So I did something, on the old Corps theory that doing anything is better than doing nothing at all.

I swung my feet over the side and settled them on the road. That took most of my energy. Unfortunately, it also wakened the driver. I’d hoped to have another minute before I went down the hill. But the guy up top yelled.

Winsome spotted me. He roared. The philosopher yelled. You’d have thought we’d won the war. They started running downhill.

The driver hollered again, but he wasn’t worried about me now.

I heaved myself upright and tottered forward. I didn’t look where I was going. I was too busy gawking at the scaly green barrel of a head, sleepy-eyed, that had risen above the ridge line. The monster made a puzzled whuffing noise, then grinned a grin filled with about ten thousand gigantic teeth, got up from where it had been napping. And got up and got up and got up.

The bottom went out from under me as the horses began a brief debate about the quickest way to get the hell out of there.

The slope was steeper than I’d remembered it. I couldn’t control my descent. I went down ass over appetite, sliding, rolling, ricocheting off trees, bouncing through underbrush. Every stick and stone autographed my body. I ended up spread-eagle in a patch of last year’s thistles. I wondered if it was worth it.

Up top, the horses had found a way to turn around and were headed south. The driver cracked his whip like maybe they needed encouragement. The philosopher and Winsome were fifty feet behind hollering for the driver to wait up. Big Ugly had gotten all of himself upright and over the ridge and was fixing to put on a burst of speed.

The whole thing would have been amusing had I not been part of it, down there in the ravine trying to blend into the landscape so I wouldn’t look killable or edible either one.

No team and no men are going to outrun a critter that makes its living chasing things and has legs fifteen feet long. On the other hand, no critter thirty feet tall will have a lot of luck sprinting down a twisty road less than eight feet wide in the turns. The thunder-lizard over hauled Winsome as the man headed into a sharp turn with a cut on one side and a forty-foot drop on the other. The critter smacked into the hillside, rebounded, and off the road he went. He cussed in thunder-lizard all the way to the bottom.

The big greenie had stick-to-it-ivity, I’ll give him that. He got up, shook himself off, tore up some timber just to express himself, then got rolling again. He wanted to catch something for all his trouble. He limped a little. Maybe he’d twisted an ankle, or whatever thunder-lizards have.

I barely breathed till the excitement took itself out of hearing. Then I moved carefully. I’ve heard that those things sometimes run in packs. And maybe he’d spotted me going over the side. Maybe he was waiting for a Garrett snack to come to him. Probably what he was doing up there on the ridge—just letting breakfast, lunch, and dinner come trotting up from town.

I glanced up the slope I’d descended “I got to find another line of work.” I started limping. “People don’t want to be saved anyway.” Weider’s standing offer at the brewery looked better all the time. Nobody to beat on me, no hills to fall down, nobody wanting to take me for a ride, all the beer I could drink. Just lean back and pour it down until I was as fat as the Dead Man. What a life.

The job would look good till the hurting stopped.

My myriad aches and bruises wakened the anger that had grown feeble since I’d learned that Tinnie was going to make it. I remembered her lying in the street with a knife sticking out of her, and that reminded me that complain as I might, I did have an interest in all this confusion and insanity. A very personal interest.

There will be Serpents with us always. With the best will it can muster, the race wouldn’t be able to exterminate them all. And the race, of course, has no universal will to see them become extinct. We all have a bit of the Serpent in us, just waiting for the right moment to bloom.

Witness all these characters who wanted the Book of Dreams. Not all of them had been bad to begin.

I’d even begun to doubt Carla Lindo’s honorable intentions.

We can’t get shut of the Serpents but we can sure as hell lower the price in pain by snipping one off the social bush now and then. My attitude underwent adjustment as I limped along. My get-even list rearranged itself. Sometime during my trek homeward, my resistance toward participating in Crask and Sadler’s adventure evaporated I donned my pain like a badge, let it flow through me, refused to be daunted by anything.

It’s only six miles from Hornet Nest Hill to my place. A couple hours, loafing along. I didn’t loaf but I didn’t make that good a time. Too many injuries slowing me down

I never saw the nest for which the hill is named. I never saw a hornet. I didn’t see friend Winsome or the philosopher again, either. I did, at a distance, spy some busted black wood that might have been fancy coachwork. I didn’t go look for survivors.

By the time I got home I was mad at myself for letting the Dead Man get my goat and run me out to see the head dwarf. I’d known it was a pointless exercise when I left.

Dean let me in. He saw I was in no mood or shape for any discussion. He did a fade. I went into my office, shut the door, wouldn’t even let Dean bring my beer. I communed with Eleanor We made a pact. Despite the pain and discouragement, I’d keep plugging. I’d get that book, one way or another. I’d thin the ranks of the villains. Eleanor gave me one of her rare smiles.

“Hell, honey, I guess I can’t help being Garrett, anyway.” I headed upstairs, paused halfway to tell Dean to bring the pitcher and our first-aid stuff to my room.

39

It had been a full day and it wasn’t yet suppertime I decided to eat light then lie down Maybe my subconscious would produce a miracle while I napped and I’d end up turning the adventure against Chodo into a coup for the good guys. Assuming I didn’t get so stiff and swollen I couldn’t move at all

That’s how I figured The rest of the world didn’t share my vision.

Dean wakened me before I was completely asleep. “His Nibs wants you. He accused you of neglect.”

So I hadn’t taken time to report. He feels no pain. He doesn’t get physically tired. He forgets that the rest of us do. Poor spirits and defeatism he understands better. His existence is entirely cerebral.

I went down to report

Carla Lindo was just slipping out. She gave me a smile that set my backbone vibrating despite my state. Old Bones was chuckling to himself. She had his ego puffed up enough to swamp small cities I wondered if she’d goaded him into disturbing me. She did seem to be getting impatient.

He took a quick riffle through my mind, saved me the trouble of talking. Any doubt that those were Chodo Contague’s men?

I couldn’t give the answer he wanted to hear. “None.”

I hoped it would never come to this.

“You and me both. I was lucky. I got a pass. The bastard was sentimental enough to want to explain why he had to send me off. I won’t get that option again.” As soon as Chodo was sure things had soured he’d put the word out. Maybe even an open contract.

It is premature for that. First he will have to learn that you were not devoured with the others. Then, considering the highly public nature of his past favor, he will want to avoid a public reversal because he cannot yet answer questions sure to arise and threaten his credibility. He is proud and vain and his power in great part rests upon a widespread belief that he is an honorable man within criminal hghts. To tell the world he wants you dead would compel him to provide reasons. He cannot tell the truth. It would bury him

“That wouldn’t keep the hard boys from carving me up for the bounty.”

No, he admitted

“So? Suggestions?”

Survival now heads our priorities. Finding the Book of Dreams has become secondary.

And people wonder why he’s considered a genius. Would I have thought of that myself? “Only way out is to take out Chodo first.”

Indeed.

“I’ve never deliberately set Out to kill somebody.”

I know. He wasn’t taking it lightly

“Is being able to live my life the way I want worth another man’s life?” I could get Out of town Permanently. Because if I went, there’d be no one else to slow Chodo down-unless Crask and Sadler got lucky without me.

That is a decision you must make

“You and Dean have a say.”

I survived for centuries before we met. Whatever you decide, I will get by.

No doubt “You really know how to pump a guy up” But his welfare was only one consideration. My ego was going to take a whipping whatever I did. Run and I’d spend the rest of my life questioning my courage. Kill Chodo and I’d have to endure big dents in my self-image. “I can’t win”

There is no question of winning or losing Nor one of right or wrong if you have one fatal weakness, it is your thinking too much. Your insistence upon viewing any choice as a moral decision. It is not immoral to fight for your life. Stop posing. Cease overcomplicating. Decide if you would prefer to spend your remaining days in TunFaire or elsewhere, then act to support your preference.

He can strip a thing to its bones when he wants. And he’s damned good at twisting something till it looks like something else.

Dean stuck his head into the room. “There’s a person to see you, Mr. Garrett

“Who?”

Hint of a smile. “A most unusual person.”

I looked at the Dead Man. He didn’t give me a clue. I went into the hall. “At the door?”

“I couldn’t make up my mind whether or not to let her in. Personally, I don’t feel she’s your type.”

“Huh?” My type is female, in the three primary colors, blonde, brunette, and redhead

“Ordinarily you do tend toward a certain physical type, Mr. Garrett. Mr. Dotes once observed that they could all wear the same underwear.”

“Oh?” I thought of myself as an eclectic. I opened the door.

“About damned time,” Winger said.

I gaped Dean laughed I’d forgotten events earlier.

Winger said, “I got to thinking. We ought to get an early start. We let them bozos Crask and Sadler call all the shots, then we only got ourselves to blame if we get hit by a stray bolt.”

She had a point, but I didn’t feel like conceding it.

“You going to leave me out in the weather or you going to invite me in for a brew?”

40

Joking aside, Dean was right Winger wasn’t my type. She wasn’t anybody’s type. I led her to my office, suggested Dean bring beer. I planted myself. Winger took the other chair, looked at Eleanor like she could read the truths of the painting. Maybe she could.

“One slick character painted that, Garrett.”

“An unsung genius named Snake Bradon. A total lunatic How come you’re early?” I’d set a time figuring I could slide out earlier. She probably figured that’s what I’d try the woman wasn’t stupid.

“Nice place you got.”

“A couple of big cases broke right. You sneaking around before you get to something?”

“Broke right? Word on you is you’re lucky, But it’s dangerous to be your friend

“Huh?”

“You got a sharp line of patter, don’t you? Word’s going around that somebody wants to take you down. Word is, stay away It might rub off.”

So, maybe just to keep myself awake, I told her about my adventures since we’d parted.

Carla Lindo brought the beer for Dean. That woman was turning into a spook, around sometimes, but more invisible than not. She looked at Winger like she’d stumbled into the men’s loo. Winger looked back at Carla Lindo like she was trying to figure out what she was. Carla Lindo lost the staring match She deposited the supplies and deserted. “You got something going there?” Winger asked.

“Just a client.”

“Not much to her.”

Debatable. Highly debatable, from where I sat. But I didn’t feel like debating. I felt like finding out what Winger was up to. Even more, I felt like taking a nap. The beer didn’t help.

Winger said, “Interesting Chodo should take a poke at you right after you talked to his renegade. Think he’ll be looking for company tonight?”

I shrugged. “He’s no fool.”

“Um. I got to thinking about them pets of his. Went out looking for some thunder-lizard hunters, figured on buying them a few drinks, pumping them for tricks of the trade. Know what? Ain’t a whole lot of them around. Somebody’s been hiring them up. Some shoemaker.”

Shoemaker, eh? I could guess which one. That damned fool. “Shoemakers use a lot of thunder-lizard hides making army boots.”

She said, “You know you got somebody watching you?”

“I’ve had that feeling for several days. I thought it might be you.”

“Not me. Dwarves. Every time I come around here, there’s dwarves. And morCartha. Somebody’s hired one of the morCartha tribes to keep track of you. I couldn’t find out who.”

“MorCartha?” Things fell into place. No wonder I’d never been able to spot anyone following me. I hadn’t looked up any more than anyone else does. If I had, I’d’ve accepted the morCartha the way I accept pigeons. One of the inevitable nuisances that are part of life.

MorCartha tails would explain the erratic nature of my intuitions about being watched, too. MorCartha are neither organized nor responsible. The watching would go on only when somebody actually felt like watching.

“‘Want me to take them off you? Ten marks, I’ll do a job that’ll have them staying ten miles from you.”

“Not before I find out who wants me watched.” I had ideas. Gnorst Gnorst seemed a likely candidate. Backup for his ground-bound dwarves The kind of thing a dwarf would do Cover every angle possible. I figured Chodo a likely candidate, too. He was cunning enough to see that morCartha would go unsuspected.

There had been morCartha aloft when I’d met with Sadler. Maybe Chodo ought to be number one on my list. “Thanks for the tip.”

“One on me. For letting me come along tonight.”

I hadn’t planned it to go that way, but now I knew that I had to take a legitimate shot at Chodo I didn’t mind as much. Any friend is better than no friend.

Again I wondered where the hell Morley and Saucerhead were. That was becoming a big worry, but events kept pushing it further and further down my list.

Winger considered Eleanor again. “You had something going with her, didn’t you?”

How to answer that one? If I said yes, there might be more questions and I might end up mentioning that she’d been dead twenty years before I’d met her—and not like the Dead Man is dead. How to explain an affair of the heart with the ghost of someone who died when you were a child? “Something. I don’t know what you’d call it and I sure can’t explain it.”

“That picture explains it good enough.”

She was seeing everything that madman Bradon put into it. Would she ever stop surprising me?

“I can understand you not wanting to talk about it. So. What say we get going? I got some things lined up, give us an edge. You got to have an edge. You in any shape for this?”

She was nervous. She was getting close to chattering, which was how it showed. “Hell, no, I’m not. But I have to take my shot. If people haven’t lied to me too much, tonight’s the only night I’ll ever have half a chance of doing what I’ve got to do.” I told her about the supposed party.

“There’s our edge right there. Even if the guy knows we’re coming, he’s giving up some advantage if he doesn’t cancel his party.”

Chodo wouldn’t. He was a character who wouldn’t let the gods themselves nudge him into changing his plans. “Guess we take what we can get.” I was getting more down by the minute.

“Won’t get nothing done sitting here.”

“Sure. Back in a jiffy.” I went across and got the amulet stone from the Dead Man’s room, wondering what the hell a jiffy was He didn’t have anything to say. I rolled upstairs and outfitted myself as well as I could from my depleted arsenal. I included the little padded case with the bottles. This was no time to wimp out. I’d do what I had to.

Winger awaited in the office doorway, eyes sort of glazed. I frowned. She’d had another run-in with the Dead Man. What now? I didn’t ask.

Being a born gentleman, I opened and held the front door for her. Even if she was a Saucerhead type in physical drag. She stepped outside. “You hang on here.”

“What?”

She eyed the street. “Wait here.” She took off down the steps and up the street Fast. She ran without throwing her arms and legs all over, the way so many women do.

I closed the door and leaned against the wall, trying to stay awake, trying to avoid thinking about my aches and pains

A knock. I peeked Winger’s eye stared back at me. She backed off only far enough for me to see her grin. I opened up.

She had a dwarf slung over her shoulder, out cold. “He was a feisty little bugger “

“Huh?”

“He was watching your place Thought you might want to talk to him before we shove off.”

“Bring him back here.” I led the way to the Dead Man’s room. “Hey, Chuckles. You want to take a look at this and tell me what we’ve got9”

A dwarf.

“What an eye. Could you maybe give me a little something more?”

He has been watching the house for about three hours. My old friend Gnorst sent him. 1 will send him back bearing a strong prote3t.

“Wonderful. You do that Why was he on us?”

In case you locate the Book of Dreams, I presume.

“Anything else useful?”

He was selected for his lack of direct knowledge.

Naturally. Gnorst knew the Dead Man. Wasn’t much point putting the little hairball through the wringer. “See you later, then.”

Have you come to an accommodation with your conscience?

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” He got a chuckle out of that. Right. My moral discomfitures always amuse him. He’d have no trouble slicing Chodo into cold cuts.

“I can do it. The alternative is unacceptable.”

A sneer radiated from that pile of lifeless lard.

“He’s the one made it him or me.”

You need not justify. The day has been inevitable for some time. He and I knew. Mr. Dotes and Mr. Tharpe knew. Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler knew. Only you insisted on pretending otherwise.

Hell, I’d known it, too. I’d hoped it would come to a more clear-cut case of good guy against bad guy, though.

Take care, Garrett,

“I plan to.”

   41

I followed Winger once we hit the street, lost in my own thoughts. After a few blocks, she asked, “You scared?”

“Yes.” I was. Nothing to be ashamed of. A body who wasn’t afraid of a Chodo Contague was a damned fool. Or worse.

“Thought you were a heavyweight tough guy.”

“I eat nails with acid on them for breakfast, Then I kick thunder-lizards around for my morning workout. Hell, I’m so tough I don’t change my socks but once a month. But tough don’t help when the kingpin is after you and your only pal can’t get out of his chair to help.”

She was amused

I asked, “You sure you know who Chodo is?”

“Sure. Bad mojo” She laughed. “Doing him will be good for my reputation.”

“His reputation doesn’t bother you?”

“Who needs to live forever?”

I slipped the little padded case out of my pocket. I eyed those little bottles. The red one, the deadliest, seemed to sparkle all by itself.

“What’s that?”

“Something left over from another job. Might come in handy.”

“So don’t tell me

“I won’t. Knowing you, you might knock me over the head and grab them. This way I can feel confident that if you pull something, you’ll kill yourself messing with them.”

“You’re a suspicious wart

“Helped me reach the ripe old age of thirty. Where the hell are we going?” She was headed south instead of north.

“I told you, I made arrangements. Figured we’d come in from a direction nobody’ll expect.”

“Like what?”

“I got us a boat We’ll go up the river to the Portage. From there it’s four miles over a range of hills, mostly through vineyards, to Chodo’s place.”

I groaned. I was dragging already. Every ache and pain was still with me I’d taken a powder for those and the headache, but relief was marginal.

“I take it you ain’t overwhelmed by my brilliance.”

“Ha. That’s the trouble with being a boss, Winger. Whatever you do, you’re always in the wrong. Whatever you do is dumb and could be done better, faster, cheaper, by your minions.”

She got a laugh out of that. “I noticed that when I went to work for Easterman. My smarts level went way up.”

“Probably because you knew he had to be dumb to hire you.”

“You got such a line of sweet talk.”

The boat was one of those usually devoted to ferrying people to the east bank, to the side sometimes called Nether TunFaire. Winger had chosen one run by a breed family with no prejudice against rowing upriver if we paid in advance. I paid up and snuggled down amongst cargo and sails and closed my eyes. I might still get my nap.

Winger seemed content to do the same.

The chief ferryman stirred me with his toe. His name was Skid. He was about a hundred years old but spry. The river life was healthy. I snorted and gurgled and otherwise made it seem my intelligence approximated that of a turtle, cracked an eye, and asked, “We there already?”

“Nope. Got a boat following us. Shouldn’t be.” Maybe Skid was still alive because he hadn’t used up his ration of words

Winger was one of those freaks of nature who just open their eyes and are wide-awake. She was upright, looking aft, before I managed to sit up.

“Where?” I could see lights back there, sure. On about two hundred boats, most of them just like our own, what landlubbers politely call bumboats, home and business for the families operating them

Skid got down so I could sight along his arm. “Skylar Zed’s tub. Works the east-west, same as us. Don’t come north

“Oh “ I couldn’t see the boat he wanted me to see, let alone tell who owned it. I faked it. I told Winger, “This is getting irritating

She grunted. She’d sprawled out again, completely without self-consciousness. She reminded me of Saucer-head more and more, Yet she was different Less intense, more relaxed. Tharpe does worry about what people might think. Winger plain didn’t care—or faked that so well it made no difference, I guess when you’re as oversize as she is, you make adjustments.

I looked some more. At least in the light of the running lamps there was nothing wrong with the way she looked. She was just big. “Hey. Tell me about Winger.” I wasn’t sleepy anymore.

“What’s to tell? I was born and I’m still around. What you see is what you get.”

“The usual stuff. Where are you from? Who were your people? How come you’re out here with me instead of holed up somewhere with a house full of little Wingers?”

“Where’d you come from, Garrett? Who’re your people? How come you’re here instead of back to your place with a pack of little Garretts?”

“I see. Only I don’t mind telling.” I told her about my family, none of whom are alive. I told about my years in the fleet Marines I tried but couldn’t really explain what I was doing on the boat. Not in terms she understood. “As for kids, I like them fine but I think I’d make a lousy father. I still have some growing up to do myself, at least by the accepted standards.”

“That ain’t fair, Garrett

“Hey, I was just passing the time. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“We going to be friends, Garrett?”

“I don’t know. Could be. Hasn’t a lot gotten in the way so far.”

She chewed that some, leaned back, spat over the side, turned to check our tail, laid down again. “How old you figure me for?”

“My age. A little younger, maybe. Twenty-eight?”

“You’re more generous than most. I’m twenty-six. I do have a kid. Be almost twelve now. I couldn’t handle that life. I walked. It’s usually the man leaves the woman with the brats.”

I didn’t say anything. Not much you can say when somebody tells you something like that. Nothing that doesn’t sound judgmental or insincere.

“I lug around a lot of guilt. But no regrets. Funny, huh?”

“Things turn out that way sometimes. I’ve been through some of that.”

“Like this little jaunt?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t hide so well behind the smart mouth and weary attitude, Garrett. We ice this Chodo, you’re going to take on a shitload of guilt.”

“But no regrets.”

“Yeah. And you know something? That’s why I wanted in. The money and the rep I can use, but it wasn’t just for that. It’s ‘cause I figure you for one of the good guys.”

“I try.” Probably too hard. “But when you get down to it, there isn’t much difference between the good guys and the bad guys.” I used some of my cases to illustrate.

She told me how she’d become a bounty hunter. Mostly by accident. Right after she’d left her family she’d killed a much-wanted thug who’d tried to rape her. She traded the remains for a reward and had found herself with a reputation for having more guts than sense and a big chip on her shoulder

“The rep’s the thing, Garrett. You build it right, you nurture it, you save a lot of trouble. You take this Chodo. Nobody bucks him because of his reputation.”

“He backs it up.”

“You got to do that. Ruthlessness is the key. You, now, your rep is wishy-washy except for keeping your word and not letting people mess your clients around. You might be tough, but you ain’t hard. You get what I’m saying? Somebody hires you to get him out from under blackmail, you don’t just go cut some bastard’s throat and have done with it. You try to finagle it so nobody gets hurt. Lot of people figure you for soft in the center, you go that way. Figure they’ve got an edge.”

“Yeah.” I understood. But I didn’t make any sudden New Year’s resolutions.

“I figure you’ll waste this chance. You off Chodo, you’ll never let anybody know.”

“You’re beginning to depress me

She laughed. “You heard the one about the nuns, the bear, and the missing honey?” She told the story. It was about what I expected. She followed it with another. She kept telling them. She knew every bad, off-color joke ever invented and this world, with all its tribes, offers plenty of absurd possibilities.

“I surrender,” I said “I won’t be depressed if you won’t tell any more stories.”

“Great So now let’s figure out what we’re going to do about that other boat.”

I glanced downriver. I still couldn’t tell anything. “Skid. Can you run inshore and let us off without them back there knowing?”

He reflected. “Around Miller Point, up ahead. Be out of their sight maybe twenty minutes. But I thought you wanted to go to the Portage.”

“You go ahead upriver after we get off. Lead that boat along with you.”

“You’re paying the freight. You heard the man, lad-dies. Cut it close going around the point. Lucky for you,” he said to me “Channe”s close in there.”

When the time came, we did it fast. It worked. Skid headed upriver Winger and I heard the second boat creak past as we worked our way through the dense growth beside the river. She punched my arm, grinned.

We started our hike cross-country. My body kept threatening to put a curse on me for mistreating it so.

42

I guessed it was just past midnight. We were a mile from Chodo’s place, which was easy to see. “Party must be roaring,” I observed. “Either that or there’s a forest fire over there.”

“We’re coming in from the north, we better head over there, move in closer later.”

“Yeah. Better stay behind this ridge, too. Never know who might spot us if we don’t.” We were in a vineyard. There were grapegrowers’ houses nearby.

“You said that already.”

“You said that about heading north three times, too.” “You nervous, Garrett?”

“Yeah. You?”

She seemed cool. “Scared shitless.”

“It doesn’t show

“You learn

The sky went berserk toward Chodo’s place. I said, “Sounds like the morCartha brought their show to the country.” We couldn’t see them, light or no, with the ridge in the way. We decided not to go over and look. Everybody at the kingpin’s place would be out gawking.

We found us a comfortable jump-off place fifty yards north of Chodo’s property line. The morCartha were still at it, off and on. “Those flying rats could wake the dead,” I grumbled.

“We got time to kill. We’re ahead of schedule.” The plan was to wait for Crask and Sadler to draw the thunderlizards around front once they gave up on me and decided to take their best shot. Then we’d move, hoping my amulet still worked.

“Yeah.” I tried making sense of the racket. “I don’t like that.” I stood up. Standing, I could see the occasional dot swoop through the light over the kingpin’s house. A deadly battle over there, near as I could tell. “Why did they bring it out here?”

“Oh, sit down and sweat blood like I am.”

If there was no attack by Crask and Sadler, or none we could detect, we would move about three o’clock, the coolest hour of the night, when the thunder-lizards would be sluggish. With them slow and maybe ignoring us on account of my amulet, we’d only need to worry about dogs, armed guards, booby traps, and whatever I didn’t know about.

Winger laid back and stared at the stars. “Be enough light, anyway. I can handle the dogs. Better hope those morCartha clear off, though.”

I grunted. Dogs make me nervous. Not afraid, just nervous.

“You got a special woman, Garrett? That little Sparky, hanging around your place?”

“Sparky?”

“The carrot top. I put the name Sparky on her in my own head.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have one or two.”

“One or two?”

“Tinnie Tate. The one who got stabbed. And one named Maya I kind of like. I haven’t seen her lately.”

“I heard some about her. People talk. Besides them two. Anything going? You got kind of a rep that way, you know.”

“Highly exaggerated, I’m sure. Those things have a way of getting blown out of proportion. Nah. Nobody else special. Except maybe Eleanor.”

“That Sparky?”

“No. The blonde on my office wall. She’s a good listener.”

“Nothing going with Sparky, eh?”

“Just wishful thinking. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering. We got time to kill

What? “Oh.” Sometimes I’m real slow. I started fumbling for excuses that wouldn’t leave any hurt feelings. “I don’t know. Condition I’m in .

Boy, howdy! Who’d a thunk it . . . ?

Winger started grabbing stuff. “Somebody coming. And we’re running late.”

No lie. Me, the mission-oriented old Marine, forgot why I was out in the middle of a grape orchard freezing my aching body in the wee hours. You betcha. My weakness again. When that Winger decided to be a woman, she popped and sizzled Sparky . . Carla Lindo had nothing on her then.

Amazing. Utterly amazing

“Easy, Garrett.” Dark shapes drifted closer. “Crask and Sadler.”

Winger and I finished our scrambling around. Those two settled on the hillside. Crask said, “Sneaky, sneaky Garrett. You was supposed to meet us around front. We’d’ve never found you, wasn’t for all the puffing and snorting.

“Easy, lady,” Sadler said “Easy. Ain’t gonna be no trouble. I don’t blame you for not showing, Garrett. Not after this afternoon.”

“You heard, eh?”

“Yeah. Some. We was too late to save your ass. We did try. We figured you was gone and counted you out when we heard about the coach and the thunder-lizard.”

Crask said, “Bunch of farmers took it down right after sundown, you care about that. They was still skinning it when we come out.”

Sadler continued, “Along about sundown we heard from a friend what seen you talking to the sheela here. We counted you out anyhow.”

Crask said, “You got to be the luckiest bastard that ever lived. We changed the whole plan when we heard about the coach. Then we changed it again when we heard you was alive.”

Sadler said, “We figured we wouldn’t show where you was supposed to meet us, just in case you did. But we’d watch, and then we’d follow you in when you went.”

“Follow me? What made you think I’d do it on my own?”

“You got to. Chodo’s after your ass. You got to get his first or kiss yours good-bye. You’re mush on the inside, but you ain’t stupid. You do what you got to.”

Crask chuckled. What a pair of bastards. And not the least bit ashamed of themselves.Crask said, “We changed the plan again. Now we figure we ought to hit in a bunch. Something weird’s going on over there.”

Sadler asked, “You guys got any idea what the hell all that racket’s about?”

“MorCartha wars.”

“At Chodo’s place?”

I shrugged. “They hold them wherever they can get enough of them together.”

“Sounded like more than that to me. You miss it?” He kept a straight face Crask did, too. Those guys were inhuman

Winger said, “Ready when you are, Garrett.”

No kidding. I dreaded having the Dead Man find out about tonight. I’d never hear the end. Probably deserved it, too. “You guys want to rest up first?” I wasn’t going to tell them they couldn’t horn in. Not here. Not now.

“We’re ready,” Sadler replied. “You bring the stone?”

“I’m slow but I’m not stupid. Winger says she can handle the dogs”

“They shouldn’t be no problem. We came prepared.” I could see him well enough to tell he thought 1 hadn’t.

He and Crask carried military spears and Venageti two handed sabers. They were loaded down with enough other hardware to start their own war. “Whenever you want,” he added.

“Let’s do it. Winger,” We started walking.

43

Chodo’s north wall wasn’t much Was that intentional?

‘Yeah,” Crask told me. “Farther to the house here. Most of them that try come this way. Sets them up so the dogs and lizards got more time to work.”

Wonderful. Being a genius, I’d selected exactly the course Chodo wanted me to choose.

Sadler said, “It’s sure turned quiet “He was right. The morCartha had moved on.

“Gone dark, too,” Crask said

It took me a moment to understand. The lights round the house had been extinguished “What about armed patrols?” We’d have trouble spotting them in the dark.

“Maybe.” That was Sadler. “But they’ll stay near the house. The lizards get unpredictable when they’re excited.”

“Glad you warned me.” Like I’d really counted on the amulet stone to turn the beasts blind.

We moved ahead a quarter mile, those two leading. They knew their way. Then Crask stopped. Sadler stopped. Crask said, “Something’s up. We should’ve run into a dog or lizard by now

I told him, “I’m not going to complain.”

“Watch out.”

We moved again. Seconds later I tripped, fell on my face. Just what I needed. Bruises on my bruises. I did manage to go down without hollering. “Hey!” I hissed “Check this.”

This was a dead thunderlizard. Healthy, it would have been my size. Cause of its poor health seemed to be a bunch of crossbow bolts. Hard to tell how long it had been unhealthy because those things are cold to begin with.

Crask and Sadler were not pleased. Sadler speculated, “Somebody got here before us.”

Crask muttered, “That explains the quiet.”

I asked, “You think somebody did our job for us?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. One lizard is down. That ain’t the whole pack. Maybe the rest are curled up with full bellies.”

Real helpful, those guys.

We found two more thunder-lizards turned into pin-cushions. Then a dead dog. “Something strange here,” I said. “I was a scout in the Marines. One guy couldn’t do this. It would take a gang. But they didn’t leave any sign. The only grass down was put that way by the animals.”

Crask and Sadler grunted. Winger observed, “The arrows are all in the back.”

They were. “So?”

She jerked a thumb skyward. The morCartha?

We were halfway to the house. Despite the absence of light, I could sense a hulking darkness where it stood.

The silence ended. So did the darkness.

An uproar broke out around the house, suddenly. Heavy fighting. The light developed more slowly. Sadler suggested, “Let’s don’t get in a hurry just yet, Garrett.”

I’d started moving. He was right. No sense galloping into something. We advanced slowly. The crash and clang declined.

The animals came out of nowhere. Crask and Sadler each skewered a thunder-lizard. Winger moved like a bullfighter, slashed a dog’s throat on the fly. Blood flew everywhere. It was over before I could decide who to help. I gurgled, “Don’t look like the stone is much good.”

Sadler snapped, “They didn’t come after you.”

Crask muttered, “Now we know they ain’t all dead.” We reached a barn. Crask said, “Let’s scope it out from the loft.”

We did, but that didn’t help much. Most of the light had faded. We saw two armed men directly opposite us, beside the house. Six more were doing something along the side of the house, toward its front. Winger said, “I see bodies.”

There were a lot of them. The men toward the front were moving some inside. Chodo must have brought a small army in for the festivities. Not mentioning the men down, there were thunder-lizards and dogs and morCartha all over the place. It had been ferocious out.

“Whatever happened, it’s over now,” I said

So naturally the gods had to make me out a liar before I even finished talking. One of Chodo’s men took an arrow in the chest. The rest charged the darkness. After some noise and screaming most of them came back. Apparently they decided not to do any more picking up.

“Dwarves,” Sadler decided.

“Huh?” My repartee was up to standard

“Dwarves attacked the place. Some of those stiffs are dwarves

What the hell was going on?

Either the Serpent’s buddees had tried to rescue her or Gnorst had taken a shot at getting her away from the kingpin. I put my money on Gnorst But that didn’t explain the morCartha I didn’t think.

I said, “I hope Chodo is as confused as I am. And drunk, too.”

Sadler said, “They ought to all be sobered up by now.”

“Don’t count on it. You remember how ripped they got last year.”

“I don’t see any more animals,” Winger said.

“No patrols, either,” Crask observed. “That’d mean he’s used up all the men he can afford. He’s keeping the rest in close.”

I said, “He’ll have the entrances covered. How do we get inside?”

“From up top. We climb the stonework on the northwest corner, swing out onto those beams, get onto the roof. We move across there, drop Onto that balcony in the middle. See it? It shouldn’t be covered if he’s short on bodies and is thinking dwarves Dwarves couldn’t get up there

“One of my favorite hobbies, climbing unfamiliar buildings in the dark

Sadler told me, “You done it before. I was there I brought a rope. I’ll go first.” He sounded like he had serious reservations about me.

Hell, I had serious reservations about me. I didn’t think I could get to the roof up a ladder, all the pains I had. I thought about calling everything off. Didn’t seem too bright, charging in when we didn’t know what the hell was going on.

We moved across to the house unchallenged. Sadler monkeyed up the northwest corner, dropped the rope. Winger went up like climbing was her calling. Crask told me, “After you, sir. Age before beauty.”

“Right. I’ll just tie it around my neck and let them hoist me up.” I grabbed the rope and went at it, I got to the top somehow, though I had my eyes closed half the time. Crask arrived right behind me.

Sadler told him, “I’m starting to get a good feeling about this, Bob

Crask had a first name? Amazing. I figured even his mommy called him Crask.

“Yeah, looking good. Let’s slide on over there

We were getting set to drop to the balcony when the morCartha returned. One, singular. It whispered down out of the night, zipped past, nearly panicked us all. We figured it was a scout and a herd would be right behind it. But nothing happened

We were trying to get inside when the excitement brewed up again around front. We paused, listened. Winger said, “That’s weird.”

“What?” I think I squeaked.

“Chodo’s guys are all inside. So who’s fighting who?”

I didn’t know and at the moment I didn’t care. “Let them have fun. Let’s get on with it.”

To my complete astonishment we broke in without any trouble at all.

44

We were on the highest of three floors. Crask and Sadler insisted on checking every room there before we started down. They didn’t want to leave anybody behind us. Winger and I took one end of a long hail, those two the other half. We met again at the head of a stair in the center.

“Find anybody?” Sadler asked.

I told the truth. “A few drunks so far out of it they’re barely alive.” I’d recognized some and had been surprised by a couple supposedly honest men, big in business or society. Chodo’s reach seemed infinite.

“Same over there. Nobody who has the balls to do anything but squeal, anyway. Party must really have roared before the shit came down.”

“Head downstairs now?”

He nodded. “Stay low. Part of the stair can be seen from the ballroom.”

I’d never visited this wing before. I’d never been off the ground floor, up front, except to visit a guy locked up in what passed for Chodo’s dungeon.

We listened before we moved. There was a racket toward the front of the house. Men cursed down below, angry and scared. It had nothing to do with us.

Crask led off, still encumbered with his arsenal. It seemed impossible that he should move silently carrying all that clutter, but he managed. As did Sadler and even Winger. Me, carrying next to nothing and a trained Marine sneak, I felt like I was banging a drum.

We found no one on the second floor, just plenty of small sleeping rooms with no one home. “Bodyguards and staff,” Sadler explained. “They’ll be sober and near Chodo—if they’re still alive.”

“Where’ll he be?” “In his office.”

Meant nothing to me. I’d never visited his office.

Crask dropped. I did, too, pushed my nose against the banister. A half-dozen colorful, shaggy dwarves light-footed past below, headed toward the front of the house. An uproar broke out as soon as they disappeared. Crask chuckled. “Ambushed them little shits.”

One dwarf hustled back bent over, holding his guts in A limping man overtook him, cut him apart with a heavy naval sword. I asked, “Can we get around that ambush?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a Marine,” Sadler said. “Hey diddle diddle, straight up the middle.”

That didn’t sound any more appetizing now than it had back then.

Crask said, “The runts used it up. Or there’d have been more guys after the dwarf.”

We moved down to the ground floor, passed the dwarf, headed toward the ballroom and possible ambush. To our right were kitchens and laundries and whatnot. To our left, too, I assumed. I’d heard, during one of my visits, that such took up most of the ground floor, except the showy stuff up front and the ballroom and pool area

The ambush was pretty basic. Crask and Sadler sprang it entering the ballroom. The guy who’d slaughtered the dwarf was the healthier of the two trying to hold the fort. Crask bopped his head with the haft of his spear.

Winger whistled. “Some party room. Some party, too.” The ballroom was a cozy eighty—by—one-hundred feet and three stories high. Party detritus lay everywhere. Looked like the celebration had run its course before the bloodletting started.

Crask and Sadler tied the victims They were going to need soldiers when they took over. Sadler said, “Straight to the pool.”

“I’ll take rearguard,” Winger said When I glanced back, she was slipping something inside her shirt.

The pool room dwarfed the ballroom. The pool itself was that big. There was nobody there. Except Chodo’s dead. Had to be thirty of those laid out amidst the party debris. We skirted the flotsam-covered pool and headed for the reception hall.

That hall runs to the front door through the front wing of the house, though wing isn’t the right word. The house is a huge box with the center, inner court roofed to form the ballroom and pool areas. We took turns peeking into the hall. Several men were guarding the front door. They were all scared and they were all injured.

“Not many left,” Sadler observed.

I grumbled, “Maybe we’ve Just jumped into a trap with the kingpin.”

“Maybe. Let’s check his office.” He trotted to a closed door that would let us into the east wing, leaned against it, listened. “Not that way. Mob in there.” He headed for the rear of the house. Back the way we had come.

I looked at Winger, shrugged, followed. But I was considering fading away. Things had gotten too deadly and mysterious.

We entered the east wing by means of second-floor halls built for the cleaning staff Sadler led us into a residential suite. “Chodo’s kid uses this when she’s in town.”

“Nobody’s home now.” I wondered if most of the house was a mystery to Chodo. He wouldn’t get to see the upper floors unless his men carried him.

“Don’t look like.”

Crask and Sadler started poking around in closets and tapping walls. They found what they were hunting before I became mystified enough to ask. A panel opened beside a fireplace Of course. Chodo would have his hidden passages and whatnot. Sadler said, “We’re going down to a room hidden off Chodo’s office. Be real quiet.” Like we needed warning.

Our destination was big for a secret room, a good eight by twelve. Winger’s eyes bulged when she saw it. Stacks of moneybags lay against one wall. She gulped air and chewed it. Impressive pile, I thought, but only Chodo’s day-to-day working capital His petty cash.

A racket developed while we were crawling through the walls, the mob from outside attacking again.

Crask and Sadler moved directly to a wall, opened peepholes Crask indicated one I could use. I’d always suspected that the kingpin employed hidden watchers during his meetings. I pulled a cork out of a hole, peeked into a room about twenty-five by forty. There were only two men in the room, Chodo and a character who provided the power to move the kingpin’s chair. Chodo sat in the middle of the room, facing an open door. He looked content, not afraid. Behind him, piled furniture barricaded two outside windows.

I pictured Chodo as a big trapdoor spider calmly awaiting a victim.

Sounds of fighting came from elsewhere in the house. Chodo’s pusher tensed up. Then he relaxed as two men entered the room. They supported a naked, bound woman between them.

“Ha!” I muttered. “That’s her.”

“Who?” Winger asked.

“The Serpent. Check out that tattoo.” It was uglier than I’d imagined. The witch herself was not a disaster, but she’d begun to show the ravages of time. More evident were the ravages of stubbornness. It looked like Chodo had asked a few polite questions, and when it had come time to answer, she’d demurred.

She was lucky he’d had a birthday party to preoccupy him. He might have gotten serious otherwise.

Chodo examined her critically from a few feet away. “Five pages? These are all?” He strained to lift several sheets of brass out of his lap. He seemed unaware that his place was being invaded.

“That’s it, old man.” The Serpent wasn’t bothered by her situation, either. It seemed.

“They’re damaged. Useless.”

“Of course.”

“Where is the book?”

A huge thug leaned in the door. “They’re in the house.” My heart jumped. But he didn’t mean us. “Too many of them. Can’t hold them off.”

“Hold them in the hall out there, then You ought to be able to handle a few dwarves. Don’t kill Gnorst. I need him alive.”

“Yes sir.” Like if Chodo said do it, it could be done.

I watched the witch Damned if she wasn’t happy about the way things were going.

So was Chodo.

Interesting.

The kingpin eyed the witch again “Where is the book? I won’t ask again.”

“Fine. Then I won’t have to listen to you anymore.”

Chodo didn’t get mad. He smiled, said, “Take her into that corner there.” He murmured something to the man behind his chair, who moved him over behind a big barricade of a desk to my left I couldn’t see him anymore.

Crask gave Sadler a thumbs-up

The uproar from the rest of the house had been moving closer Now the huge thug stumbled into Chodo’s office. “I’m sorry, sir “ He collapsed Chodo still didn’t get upset.

A bunch of dwarves galloped in, Gnorst in their midst. He took in the setup, barked orders in dwarfish. For a moment there were a good thirty of them in there. Then some started drifting out. Most didn’t want to go and a few flat refused Gnorst smoldered. I guessed he didn’t want anyone figuring out that he had visions of becoming the new Nooney Krombach.

There were a dozen left when the flow stopped. Gnorst strutted over to the kingpin. His beard waggled like he was fixing to say something.

Chodo trampled his line. Amazing Put a little pressure on that old boy and he found all kinds of energy reserves. “Looks like six of one and half a dozen of the other, eh, Chet?”

Chet was one of the guys holding the Serpent. “Maybe seven to five.”

The dwarves were baffled. Chodo was supposed to be dribbling in fear.

“I’ve waited a long time, Gnorst,” Chodo said. “But patience pays. Today I get to see you die.”

Dwarves peered around nervously. Gnorst’s wicked little eyes went squinty. He wondered if he’d walked into a trap.

Chodo managed a little chuckle. “You’re going to do it to yourselves. Because half of you are her creatures and half are Gnorst’s.” He continued, stirring them up. The old boy had balls that dragged the ground. And he was telling the truth. That was obvious. You could tell as soon as the short folks started eyeballing each other.

The witch yelled, “Don’t!”

Chodo laughed.

The fur started flying

How’d he set them off so easy? One second they were calculating their chances, the next flying around hooting and hollering and stabbing.

The men holding the witch eased along the outside wall, toward Chodo. She didn’t look so chipper now. Chet paused once to stick a shiv into some short guy who thought he’d be a hero and rescue the maiden not so fair.

It wasn’t all dwarf hacking dwarf into chop meat, though. Chet got his before he could get behind the desk with Chodo and his coolie.

Crask made another thumbs-up sign. He and Sadler moved over some, got set.

Gnorst’s loyalists were getting the best of the witch’s boys. The last two broke for the doorway. The rest whooped in pursuit. I heard Chodo laugh again, softly, now through a gap opening in the wall of the secret room.

Gnorst caught on a step too late. Chodo made good his escape. . . . Only it wasn’t so good, was it?

Crask and Sadler bopped the two guys with Chodo, cracked the witch a good one, made sure the wall was solidly in place. Gnorst had him a fit on the other side.

Crask said, “Hi, Boss.”

Chodo was fresh out of good humor. He sighed. “You place your bets and take your chances, don’t you, Mr. Garrett? But you can’t beat the house forever. The wheel is fixed”

“You ought to know.”

“I’ve rigged it often enough. I knew I should have tried harder to find that missing stone.”

I tossed it into his lap. “I didn’t need it. They killed all your pets.” I nodded toward the wall. The dwarves out there had gotten awful quiet. I went to peek.

They were quiet, but there were a good forty of them out there now. Most just stood there staring at Gnorst. Gnorst didn’t look a whole lot like Gnorst anymore. He was scared shitless.

His buddies had caught onto him. He’d been using them so he could grab the Book of Shadows and turn himself into another Nooney Krombach. And he’d given himself away here. His pals had fallen into what you might call an unforgiving mood.

He’d told me what dwarves though about Nooney and his book.

He started trying to yak his way out, but there was no hope in his voice and nobody was listening. Short folks started edging toward him, growling. I put the plug back in the wall.

“Well?” Chodo said, like he was in a hurry to get it over. Like he wanted to see if I had what it would take.

The witch wobbled to her feet. “Let’s get a leash on her,” I suggested. “Chodo asked a question I never heard answered. I’d like to know myself.”

Chodo smiled feebly. “I knew you had a price, Mr. Garrett. It’s a high one, admittedly, but it turns out you’re human.”

“I want to destroy it. If I have to lug it up to thunder-lizard country and dump it into a volcano.”

He eyed me while Crask and Sadler rummaged for a choker for the Serpent. His smile faded, then returned. “You really would.” He shook his head. “You understand about this afternoon?”

‘‘Not really.”

“I believe you. My error. I appear to have been misinformed and thereby have moved to a false conclusion. But more than one source suggested you knew the whereabouts of the book. I wanted to ask about that. All I accomplished was to activate your enmity. Well. You can’t beat the house.”

“Why the hell would anybody think I’d know where the damned book is? I’ve been running myself crazy trying to get a lead on it.”

Winger muttered, “We going to stand around jawing all night? We’re going to have those runts out there after us real soon now. Let’s do what we got to do and get.”

“I think they’re done. I don’t think they’ll be any more trouble.”

She went to check through the peephole.

I looked at Chodo.

I couldn’t do it. And he knew I couldn’t. He smiled. And not like he’d won some victory but like I’d won one and he was pleased. He smiled even knowing he wasn’t going to get out of anything. Crask and Sadler didn’t have my sensibilities. They wouldn’t forgive and forget.

Bigger smile on a devil’s ugly face. “Look out for my baby, Mr. Garrett.”

I nodded.

“She’ll be fine,” Crask said. And she would. That’s the way those people worked. They counted women and children out, untouchable.

“Gods,” Winger said from the peephole. She turned away pale, shocked. I decided I didn’t want to see anything that would shock Winger.

Crask and Sadler eyed her, responding to the grim awe edging her voice. . .

The Serpent let Crask have it in the crotch. He folded up. She leaped at Chodo. . .

45

I like to make out that I’m fast on my mental feet, but usually I’m no quicker than anybody else. When a woman is involved, I can be frightfully slow. But I do have a knack for seeing right and doing right when my tail is on the line.

Everything seemed to slow down as the Serpent lunged toward the kingpin. I noted that she was not totally naked. She wore a ring. A big ugly snake thing probably still on her because they hadn’t wanted to chop her finger off till after she died. I started to yell but it was too late.

She hit Chodo while Crask was still folding and Sadler was turning to see. She didn’t know where she was going but knew she couldn’t stay. Anywhere would be safer than here.

I yelled, “Winger! Come on! Let’s get her!”

She responded without thinking. Good for her.

It had occurred to me that this was the ideal moment to separate ourselves from Crask and Sadler. Before they started considering who ought to follow the kingpin down that dark road.

The witch had a good sense of where to run. We couldn’t corner her. She found her way out of the hidden passages. She fled the house from the rear. And gained on us while doing it.

I pounded around the side of the house just as she reached the front and almost landed in the middle of the departing dwarves. She whirled and headed east, toward the false dawn just beginning to define the vineyard hills.

Now Winger and I gained ground. We had longer legs and no need to worry about scratches from weeds and brush.

A winged shape dropped out of nowhere, brushed the Serpent’s right shoulder, staggered her. Another followed it, then another, forcing her to change course.

Winger grabbed my arm. “Slow down. We might not ought to catch up.”

“Huh?” I’d stopped thinking much.

“They’re steering her.”

They were indeed. I slowed to a trot and tried getting my brain to perking again. But I’d used my daily ration of smarts in Chodo’s secret room.

The Serpent scrambled over the estate wall, raced for the cover of a woodlot following a small creek. MorCartha swarmed around her as Winger and I cleared the wall. They ignored us completely. The witch stopped just short of the trees, looked around wildly. MorCartha were there to cut off any attempt at retreat.

Men came out of the woods. Little guys, all of them, but men, not elves or dwarves or whatever. They surrounded the Serpent. A little old guy with glasses hobbled after them.

Willard Tate.

“Whoa,” I said. “Stop right there, Winger. Good. Now, real careful, let’s stroll toward the road.” In half a second I’d overcome an impulse to go down and talk some sense into the Tates. That might not be any healthier than going back to hang around with Crask and Sadler. Willard Tate appeared demonic in the feeble light. He was set to get even with the world.

“What’s happening?” Winger asked.

“You don’t really want to know.” Old Man Tate had his tools with him. I kept easing toward the road, hoping I wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye. “That old man there. His niece was the one the Serpent’s thugs hit by mistake.” I wondered how much he’d spent to arrange this encounter I wondered how much had been engineered and how much was pure luck. I didn’t have any urge to go ask. Uncle Willard might decide it was a fine time to uncomplicate Tinnie’s life by removing her favorite ex-Marine.

The Serpent screamed.

“You going to do something?”

“Yeah. Get my dearly beloved ass out of here. Too many people with their blood up in this neighborhood. I’m going to go home and lock myself in for a month, then I’ll start trying to figure out what the hell became of that damned Book of Shadows.”

I had an idea. it weighed five hundred pounds and was mad as a hatter. Process of elimination. Everybody else who had the slightest interest didn’t have the book. Therefore, Easterman did or knew where it was. Maybe he wanted the excitement to settle down some before he started playing Fido the Terrible.

The Serpent had one hell of a set of lungs. She howled steadily. I didn’t look back.

I’d make my peace with me about that later. After I got used to the idea of still being healthy.

46

Six hundred yards southwest of Chodo’s gate the road to TunFaire crosses a small stone bridge over the creek that supports the woodlot where the Tates had waited in ambush. A pair of unsavory sorts were perched on the sides of that bridge. Seedy morCartha inhabited the trees overhead, for once uncontentious Presumably they belonged to the same tribe, perhaps the same family.

The shorter character stood, dusted his seat, gave me a big smile filled with pointy dark-elf teeth. “Everything come out, Garrett?” He was a handsome devil.

I kept cool Cucumber Garrett, they call me icicles for bones “You see before you the infamous Morley Dotes,” I told Winger. Obviously, he wanted me to ply him with questions. I didn’t. I’d show him. I’d spoil his whole day.

“He sure don’t look like much.

“That’s what the girls all say.”

Saucerhead, still seated, grinned, spat into the creek. He glanced upstream. “Some excitement, huh?”

“Routine They never had a chance once I got rolling. I’d love to hang around and swap lies, but I haven’t had my breakfast.”

Saucerhead got up. He and Morley tagged along after us. Dotes sounded wounded when he said, “Routine? Your tail was an inch short of going down for the last time all the way. If I hadn’t had you covered every step . .

Saucerhead told me, “We hired these morCartha to watch and report so we could jump in if you got in too deep.”

“Oh. It was you guys that got me away from Chodo’s kidnappers and that thunder-lizard?”

Morley hemmed and hawed. “You know the morCartha. Short attention spans They kind of lost you that time. But your luck held. We were on you the rest of the time.”

“Maybe half the time,” Saucerhead admitted. “Well, maybe a quarter of the time. People got to sleep some.”

“My pals,” I told Winger. “They look out for me.”

“Hey,” Morley protested. “Don’t be that way. I set it up so it came out in the end, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

Morley isn’t one to blow his own horn, not any louder than the trumps of doom, anyway, so he let Saucerhead explain. Seems Morley smelled something in the wind early, something that would get me and Chodo butting heads. He’d stopped hiding and sulking over Chodo’s having commandeered his place, had made arrangements. He’d gotten in touch with most everyone looking for the book and offered to become their warlord. Gnorst’s bunch had no practical experience hunting and fighting. Likewise the Tates. And his reputation was dark enough to endear him to the witch’s gang. Naturally, he’d gotten all parties to pay him in advance. Then he’d nudged everybody together for the final free-for-all.

“I thought it was pretty slick,’ Morley grumbled.

“Yeah,” Saucerhead said. “Way it came out, it even halfway solved the morCartha problem.” He looked around to see if any hired hands were following. They’d lost interest. He was relieved.

Morley chuckled. “Don’t worry about them. They’re back there cleaning out Chodo’s place.”

I didn’t have much to say. Let Morley think he’d covered me. He was a friend, sort of, and he’d tried. I guess it was his morCartha I’d sensed when I’d had that feeling of being watched. It had been him and Tharpe and the Tates in the boat that had followed me and Winger up the river. Let him think what he wanted. I was sure his contribution didn’t mean much. Things couldn’t have turned out much different, the nature of the greedy beast being what it is.

As we entered the city I asked Winger, “You still on Fido’s payroll? I still have to go after that book.”

“I don’t think so.” She was puffing.

I chuckled. “Want we should stop somewhere, get you a mule?”

“For what?” She did a good puzzled look.

“So you don’t collapse. You must be lugging a hundred pounds of loot. I was amazed you kept up when we were chasing the Serpent.”

She got huffy but denied nothing.

Hell, she clanked when she moved.

Morley was thoughtful. He observed, “We may be in for interesting times, what with the kingpin’s spot up for grabs.”

“Crask and Sadler are smarter than they act. Who could challenge them?”

“Each other.”

Winger eyed him hard. “Is he that naive, Garrett?” I skipped answering because I’d figured those two out only recently myself. “Power changes people. Some get greedy.”

“They’re going to worry about the world, not each other.”

“Whatever,” Morley said. And: “All’s well that ends well.” We were in the Safety Zone then. “I’ve got to go see if I have a place left.”

“Yeah,” Saucerhead said “I better check in with Molly. She maybe might be a little worried. I never let her know what was up.”

As he headed for his place a flight of thunder-lizards swept over. Only the pigeons got excited. Folk in the street scarcely noticed. That was TunFaire. Anything can happen so everyone gets used to everything quickly.

Winger clanked a little closer. She looked as bad as I felt. “Your friend was right. All’s well that ends well.”

“But this isn’t over. I haven’t taken care of that damned Book of Shadows.”

“Let’s get some shut-eye first, though. Eh?”

“1 could handle a few weeks of that.” I didn’t have much energy left but there were loose ends. Tinnie. Carla Lindo. The book. Maybe Fido Easterman. Not to mention Crask and Sadler. But I couldn’t concentrate on them. With home and bed so near, I was fading fast.

So. Trudge trudge, drag drag, off Wizard’s Reach into Macunado Street . . . “Oh, hell! Now what?” I drifted over and parked the back of my lap on a neighbor’s steps.

There was a crowd in front of my place, oohing and ahing. But the attraction wasn’t anything as commonplace as flying thunder-lizards.

A huge character in star-spangled black floated twenty feet above the street, twisting and spinning and making motions like he was trying to swim. He didn’t get anywhere. Fido Easterman.

He spotted Winger, started bellowing like a potato auctioneer.

I dragged myself to my feet, ambled closer. I noted that Fido’s whole gang was with him, though no one else was airborne. The rest were in the street, stiff as hardened leather. Some, caught in midstride, had toppled.

“What the hell?” Winger said. “What the hell?”

“He pissed the Dead Man off somehow.”

There were ogres on my stoop, also rigid. My door was open. Busted open. No wonder Old Bones was peckish.

I didn’t hurt myself getting in a hurry. The Dead Man had it under control. I slithered through the crowd, stopped to eyeball Easterman.

“Get me down!”

“Why? You want more trouble than you’ve got?”

Easterman flailed at the air, snarled something about somebody was getting away, then started laying on the threats.

He popped up fifteen feet, then fell, howling. People scattered. He started darting around like a feeding bat. People clapped and cheered and yelled suggestions about what he should try next. He really had the Dead Man’s goat.

I shouted, “What did you do? Try to break in? Why do a dumb thing like that?”

Fido glowered as he whizzed by.

The Dead Man tossed him high and let him fall till his nose was four inches from the pavement, then flipped him up again. How long had this been going on? The Dead Man’s powers are amazing, but there are limits to his-endurance.

“The book!” Easterman wailed. “I meant to snatch the book.”

“1 can understand that. I’d like to snatch it myself. But why bust up my place?”

He didn’t have anything more to say. Not yet. The Dead Man set him spinning. He got busy dumping his last six meals. People scattered again, grumbling. This part of the show wasn’t so attractive.

Winger told me, “He’s always been convinced that you have the book hidden at home. That’s why he sent me in the first place. To root around.”

“Huh? Then he’s even crazier than I thought. Don’t go away, Fido.” I headed for the house. Mounting the steps, I removed the big green litter there, tossing it into the gutter where it belonged.

They’d chopped my door all to hell. Dean could use it for kindling. I wasn’t pleased.

The door to the small front room stood ajar. Had the Dead Man let them get that far before he reacted? No. Dean was in there. “Dean? What’s the matter?” He was seated on the daybed, sniffling, fiddling with gray burlap he had wrapped around one hand.

He needed time to respond. “Oh! Mr. Garrett!” It was shock. “I tried to stop her. I couldn’t.”

Winger had invited herself aboard. She said, “He’s been cut, Garrett. Yes. The floor between his feet was bloody.

I moved then, thinking he was badly hurt. But he wasn’t. His left hand had been laid open to the bone, though, like he’d grabbed a blade. “What happened?”

“She took the book, Mr. Garrett. Right after those creatures tried to break in. I caught her unwrapping it. I tried to take it away

What was he babbling about? “What are you babbling about?” Then I spotted a torn brass page under his foot. The page that had cut his hand.

“That Book of Shadows. It was here all the time. Under the daybed. And she knew it.”

She knew it? How did she know it? How come he hadn’t found it while he was cleaning? We were maybe going to have to have a talk about his housekeeping Under the daybed? How the hell did it get under there?

“Oh, my.” I recalled a certain naked vision of a morning past. She’d carried a bundle wrapped in cloth like that wrapped around Dean’s hand. I’d paid no attention because there’d been distractions. If I’d thought of that package at all, I’d assumed she’d taken it with her when she’d done her fade. “Carla Lindo grabbed it? She knew where it was and took off with it?”

Dean nodded.

I catch on real quick. “Winger, see what you can do about that hand. I need to go yell at my partner.”

You had best not, the Dead Man sent as I charged into his den. I was as surprised as Dean.

“You couldn’t be. You know the inside of everybody’s head. You playing some kind of game?”

I was ignorant of what was happening at deeper levels of her mind, though now it is obvious that her principal motive for staying here was to locate and remain near the Book of Shadows. Note that I was unable to read the mind of the Serpent and unaware of the presence of the other while they were here in the guise of Carla Lindo Ramada. This suggests that there is something quite unusual about that young woman.

“Really?” I was angry. Needless to say. One half-wit thought after the naked woman’s departure and I could have saved us all a peck of trouble. I could have poked around, found the book, and destroyed it publicly. End of excitement. But no! I had to let myself get distracted by acres and acres of redheads.

I am doing my part here. Garrett. But I have no legs.

“Say what?”

It has not been twenty minutes since the little devil fled. You know where she is going.

I thought I knew where I was going. Upstairs. To bed. “More power to her.”

Garrett! it has been demonstrated to my satisfaction that that woman is not one of the good people either. I suggest you consider what use she or her father might have for the Book of Shadows Take into consideration their supposed base of operations, an unassailable fortress.

His feelings were hurt because he’d been taken in. He wanted Blood “All right. All right.” I needed this like I needed another vacation at the kingpin’s place. What I did need was rest, about thirty quarts of cold beer, a ten-pound steak, rare and smothered in mushrooms. A long soak in a tub wouldn’t hurt, either. “I’m on my way “ Why do I do these things to me?

On my way where? There was a whole world out there.

She has to head west, Garrett.

That narrowed it down. There’s only one way out of the city if you’re headed west.

47

Winger invited herself along. I didn’t argue. She could stick pins in me, keep me awake.

We set our watch against the wall, outside the west gate, among the most optimistic beggars in the world. I mean, half the people inbound are destitute peasants looking for the streets of gold.

“Think we got here in time, Garrett?”

I’d taken our lives in my hands and cut through the Bustee, following the most direct route. “She doesn’t know the city. Even if she hired a coach, she couldn’t have gotten here first.” True, logically, but I was whistling in the dark. After recent events, logic didn’t seem very trustworthy

I mean, the Dead Man getting swindled not once but three times? That was damned hard to swallow, though for the sake of peace in the house I’d take his word.

I suspected wishful thinking had helped Carla Lindo sucker him. He’d been exposed long enough to have smelled something. He’d overlooked it because she’d charmed him. . Hell. I should talk?

“She have any money?” Winger asked.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I wondered if she could hire a coach or buy a horse.”

“She gave us everything she had to hire us.”

“She’ll be walking, then. Can she read?”

“Why?”

“If I was her and I could read, I’d open that book and turn me into somebody else in case somebody came after me.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I couldn’t recall if she could read or not My memory plays tricks when I’m tired. “Assume the worst. Watch for anybody with something that might be the book.”

“How big?”

I made gestures, as best I could recall what I’d seen in the naked woman’s arms

Winger scrunched down in the shade of the wall, ignoring the glower of the beggar next to her. She closed one eye like she was going Halfway to sleep. “Think there’ll be trouble because of what sour sidekick did to Easterman?”

“Nah. Shit happens. Pretty often around our place. The neighbors will be happy it was just entertaining this time. One time half the houses got busted up. That’s why all the new brickwork and stuff. People that don’t like excitement moved out. Nobody else gives a damn. They don’t own, they rent.”

“I noticed that about TunFatre. Nobody gives a damn about anything but themselves.”

Not entirely true, but close

Nothing happened for a while. I got into a discussion with a bum who was a fellow ex-Marine, mostly about Glory Mooncalled’s exploits in the Cantard. During the night, while I was preoccupied, word had come that Mooncalled’s magnificent maneuver down there hadn’t panned pure gold. Our fearless leaders had, in fact, anticipated it. They’d gone ahead and jumped into a brawl with the Venageti but had held back powerful reserves. Those had continued the pursuit of Mooncalled and had carved him up pretty good.

From the sound of it, once the dust settled there would be no predominant force in the Cantard. We’d be back to the old endless terror, only now with the balance teetering three ways instead of two. That should make the situation there crazier than ever.

I was glad I was past all that.

Winger nudged me.

One gorgeous redhead had come hiking out the gate She was dressed for rough travel and carried a big pack.

She was in a hurry. Literate or not, she hadn’t changed her appearance.

She was in too much of a hurry. Thus, she didn’t notice us or know that she’d acquired other admirers, city thugs who thought they had them an easy mark. They cruised along behind, knowing the road ahead would provide ample opportunity. Three miles past west gate you’re into wild country already. The hills out there are better suited to raising sheep than to grape growing.

Winger rose with me. She understood the situation without my pointing it out “1 got a suggestion you ain’t going to like.”

“Which is?”

“Let those three clowns have first crack, then take the book from them.”

“You’re right. I don’t like it.”

“Think about it. No telling what’s up her sleeve. Right? So why not let somebody else take the lumps?” She did have her own style of thinking She had a point, too.

I was in a foul enough temper to accept it. “You come to TunFaire this way?”

“Yeah. So?”

“There’s a big curve in the road a couple miles ahead. Runs around the end of that ridge yonder, to a town called Switchback.”

“I remember.”

“If somebody was to go over the ridge, they could save a mile and a half, get ahead, arid come back this way. We could come at them from two directions. My guess is they’ll jump her at the knee of the ridge, Maiden Angel Shrine, or the spring just past there.”

“Does somebody mean me9”

“There’s a thought.”

“Here’s another one. She going to be watching behind her or ahead? She running to or from? Who’s she going to recognize?”

Damn her black heart. She was right Carla Lindo would recognize me in a second. I bellyached a lot, but when the time came I headed uphill, cussing all the way.

It wasn’t so bad going down the far side. I tripped and rolled part of the way. No work at all, that. But I didn’t make the time I should have. I was late getting to the Shrine of the Maiden Angel.

The bad boys had had time to catch Carla Lindo and Winger had had time to catch them in an indelicately exposed posture. When I came puffing along, one was dead and another working on it while the third was unconscious. Winger had just finished tying a half-naked Carla Lindo to a sapling. “You stop for a couple of beers, Garrett?”

“My pins aren’t short enough for running down hills.” A westbound peasant family studiously ignored us. They would report us at Hellwalker Station, the cavalry barracks two miles beyond Switchback. Riders would come to investigate. Highwaymen aren’t tolerated the way criminals are in the city.

Carla Lindo had gotten batted around some. It took her a while to recognize me and turn on the heat. I gaped. Winger spat, shook her head, grabbed Carla Lindo’s pack in one hand and my arm in the other. “You going to stand there drooling or are you going to haul ass?”

I shuddered and shivered and broke the spell. “Haul ass. One minute.” I squatted, told Carla Lindo, “The cavalry will be here soon, sweetheart. They’ll turn you loose. If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life explaining to every firelord and stormwarden there is, tell the soldiers that these guys jumped you, then some travelers came along and broke it up. But they took off before anybody thought of cutting you loose.”

“Garrett! Please.” Could she ever turn on the heat. She wasn’t human. I turned to hot wax. “I have to have the book. I can’t go home without it.”

I repeated my shudder-and-shiver routine. I can withstand them when I have to. “No way, darling. It’s too wicked. It’s killed too many people already. It’s got to be destroyed. And I don’t trust anybody to do that. Maybe not even me.” I wasn’t tempted anymore, though. I’d suffered too much. I Just wanted to put an end to the damned thing.

I touched Carla Lindo’s cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It could have been something.”

“Garrett, you can’t do this to me. You loved me. Didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did, some. That don’t mean I’ll let you use me. That don’t mean I’m going to go to hell for you. I wouldn’t do that for anybody “Except maybe Tinnie. I’d skipped through a suburb of hell for her trying to get this straightened out. I had to go see her again.

Carla Lindo changed. She stopped being that delicious little morsel, turned into a wildcat with a mouth like a dock walloper, speaking the true shadows in her heart. She became the real Carla Undo Ramada, no better than the other two who’d worn her face.

Winger grumbled, “You ready now? Or you want to hang around and put yourself through some more punishment?”

Right. I put a cap on my hurt, turned my back on Carla Lindo Ramada, walked toward TunFaire Winger and I didn’t talk much. Wasn’t much to say. I told myself it could have been worse. I could have gotten involved with Carla Lindo. That wouldn’t have been hard. But events had conspired to keep me distanced. Lucky me, I’d ended up just getting another lesson revealing the basic blackness lying below the human heart. Once again I’d seen that, given incentive and opportunity, most anybody will jump at the chance to turn wicked. And the wicked will turn wickeder still.

Priests of a thousand cults proclaim the essential goodliness of Man. They must be fools. All I see is people flinging themselves at the chance to do evil.

I said a lot of that out loud. Winger told me, “You’re depressing.”

“So they tell me. If they run into me at a time like this. Afterwards. Hang around me much longer, you’ll see me really black.”

I wondered how black it would get. She had Carla Lindo’s pack. She might get a notion to cash in off Eastermari.

I’m not sure where the idea came from. Maybe it was spur-of-the-moment. Maybe it was in there all along because the route I picked through the west end was not the fastest. Whatever, suddenly we were at the corner of Blaize and Eldoro. Across the way, alone, hunched, as though shunned by its neighbors, aware of that, cringing, stood a building of ocher brick. Most TunFaire brick is red. Smoke wisped from a stack. The idea hit me. “Come on over here.”

I pushed through the front door of that place. A cowbell arrangement announced me. A wizened kobold appeared. A squirrel on two feet. His hands permanently washed one another over his heart. “How may I help you, sir and madam?” His smirk told us he knew. All his kind have a fawning companionship with death.

“I saw smoke from your chimney. You all fired up?”

Puzzled, he replied, “No sir. We keep the fire burning so we don’t have to spend time preheating the kiln.”

“Let me have the pack,” I told Winger. She gave it up reluctantly. She was puzzled, too. She came from an area where they had few nonhumans. If she’d known what was up, she might have resisted. I told the kobold, “I want to run this through.” I let him look at the pack.

“Sir?”

“I’ll pay the usual fee.”

“Very well, sir.” Even kobolds don’t usually argue with money, whether or not they understand. He reached for the pack.

“I’d rather send it off myself. So I’m absolutely sure. You know?”

“As you wish.” He didn’t move. Time to show him the color of my money. I did. He smiled, put it into a cash box that appeared magically, and disappeared even more quickly. He washed his hands some more, suggested, “If you’ll follow me, then?”

“What the hell we doing, Garrett? What is this place? It has a weird smell.”

“You’ll see.”

We went down a hall that passed between several small rooms. In one a kobold family kept vigil over an old, still form on a stone table. Winger got it then.

Many of the races, and even some humans, prefer not to bury their dead. The reasons vary. For kobolds and some others burial supposedly leaves the dead the option of getting up and walking again. Or so they fear. For us humans expense is usually the major consideration. TunFaire is short on cemeteries Burial ground is expensive.

The kobold took us to the kiln room. He shouted in his own language More kobolds, likely family, popped up, threw coal into the kiln’s firebox, pumped bellows furiously. In seconds waves of heat beat at us.

“You’re going to burn it?” Winger asked.

“Going to chuck it in there and cremate it. Won’t be anything left but slag.” It gets hot in those kilns. Has to, to reduce bone.

The little folk shoveled coal and pumped. The whole place got toasty warm. Winger argued with herself. She wasn’t much at hiding her thoughts. “Garrett . . . I got to go outside. I can’t handle the smell.” It was a bit thick in there but she just needed an excuse to remove herself from temptation. If she could stand herself, she could stand a crematorium.

Soon enough the old kobold told me the kiln was ready. I wrestled with myself a little, finally managed to pin the dark side of me long enough. I tossed the bundle in onto the rack were they usually parked the bodies. I leaned my nose against a mica porthole and watched.

Carla Lindo’s pack burned quickly, exposing the book. First time I’d seen it. It was pretty much as described, big, thick, bound in leather that went fast Its brass pages started to curl.

I’m sure it was imagination. I don’t know what else it might have been But as those pages yielded to the fire I thought I heard tiny, distant screams. I thought I saw frantic shadows scurrying over the glowing coals.

48

I stepped out of the crematorium. “Well, that’s the end of that     A young couple passing spared a wide-eyed look for a goof who carried on conversations with thin air. I clammed. Winger wasn’t there. I hung around half a minute, probably looking as silly as I felt. Then I shrugged. What the hell? She had work to do, Chodo’s plunder to pawn while the pawning was good.

Now what?

I figured my best bet was to go home and catch up on my sleep. So naturally I decided to punish myself a little by delaying gratification. I headed for the Tate compound.

It would be just a quick stop, just a minute to see how Tinnie was doing. If I could weasel my way around the Tate at the gate After last night they’d be less friendly than ever

But they did let me inside. I did see Tinnie. She was all better, full of vinegar. The old redhead again. She put on a big, wicked grin and threatened to try visiting again, as soon as I did a little recovering myself. “You might even try getting near some warm water, fella. I think your fleas have all died and started to ripen.”

I gave her a little peck on the lips, about ten minutes’ worth, on account, and a grin for interest, and said, “I’ll run all the way. Don’t let me get too old before you. . .

“You’re already too old but I like you anyway I’ll probably give in to my baser nature. . . You’d better scoot before Uncle Willard finds out you’re here.”

I scooted I didn’t exactly run home, but I didn’t waste much time. People tell me I was humming. I went straight to bed.

Which is probably where I ought to stay, and say good-bye to running and redheads and whatever else. If I had the sense to stay in bed and keep my head under the covers, I wouldn’t get into these crazy things