I got me a few hours of horizontal, but not hardly enough. A big racket awakened me. I smelled food cooking, so it must’ve been around the solar dawn, though still a long way from any time when a rational being would be awake.
For whatever irrational reason, I pulled on my pants and stumbled downstairs. I rambled into the kitchen, dropped into my customary chair. “I thought those little shit morCartha were all taken by the army for aerial scouts in the Cantard.” MorCartha are a flying race, knee- to hip-high, resembling old-fashioned red devils with bat-style wings, only they’re more brown than red. They’re a contentious, loud, and obnoxious species possessed of no consideration whatsoever. They came from the north, fleeing thunder-lizards. TunFaire had been plagued by them till somebody suffered a seizure of smarts and hired them as auxiliaries. If they did what they were paid for, they could have a dramatic impact.
“These come from a new wave of immigrants, Mr. Garrett.” Dean handed me a cup of tea. “Or so they say. I suspect the hired tribes are returning, hoping they can get paid to leave again.”
“Likely. Why couldn’t we have lived in imperial times? It’s one damned thing after another. Look at all this shit. MorCartha on the rooftops. Thunder-lizards everywhere. One of those five-horned things swam the river and went crazy on the Landing last month.”
“I felt sorry for him.”
“Huh?” I cracked an eyelid, looked to my left, discovered that I was sharing the table with my houseguest. And me in nothing but my pants.
“I felt sorry for the big stupid thing. It didn’t know what was happening. It was terrified, all those little creatures screaming and throwing pointy things at it.”
“You hear that, Dean? Ain’t that a woman for you? Here’s a monster going berserk, stomping people to death, ripping up property, and she feels sorry for it.”
“Actually, I rather felt that way myself.”
Yeah. And so had I. And probably everyone else who hadn’t suffered directly from the poor beast’s fear and confusion. When you went and looked at the thing, now caught in a big pen on a vacant lot, it just seemed a big lovable puppy that looked like it had moss and lichen growing on it. I don’t see how you can call something that weighs in at fifteen tons cute, but it was cute.
“I guess it was good practice in case one of the big carnivores tries the same trick.”
“He always have to play hardass, Dean?”
Come on. On a first-name basis already? The old boy drives me crazy doing that.
“Always, Miss Belinda. Pay him no mind. He means well.”
“Dean, you checked how you feel lately?”
“Sir?”
“You said something nice about me.”
“This is a nice young lady, Mr. Garrett. I approve thoroughly. I’d like you two to get to know one another.”
Holy shit.
“Ah. Yes, sir. I know who her father is. We cannot be held accountable for our choice of ancestors. I know who your father was.” That was news to me, if he meant that he’d known the old man personally, back in those olden days before Pop went to the Cantard to get himself killed. “As I understand the situation, this isn’t a problem. Mr. Contague, begging your pardon, Miss Belinda, is as good as dead, and the real say lies with Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler.”
“Two fun-loving boys who haven’t stopped being dangerous because they’ve started running things by forging Chodo’s signature. What’re you trying to do, Dean?”
“I’m doing what I always do, Mr. Garrett. I’m matchmaking.”
His easy admission struck me dumb. Belinda found nothing to say either. We exchanged helpless looks. I added an apologetic shrug.
Dean said, “I’ve spoken with Miss Belinda extensively and find her quite your type behind her antagonistic public face.”
Belinda snarled, “Is this some kind of teamwork seduction effort, Garrett?”
I protested, “You have to excuse him. He’s got this thing about getting me involved.”
Dean didn’t listen. He hummed and did kitchen work while we traded excuses and accusations, then declared, “The Dead Man is napping. Why don’t you two go upstairs, make love two or three times, then finish arguing over lunch?”
I couldn’t believe Dean would say something like that. This just wasn’t the Dean I knew.
Not that I found the idea repulsive. Something about Belinda got to me.
Belinda just sat there staring while Dean smiled, then winked. I suffered the faintly hopeful suspicion that she didn’t find Dean’s suggestion entirely repulsive either.
However, this had become one of those situations where you couldn’t carry forward if both of you were randier than a cat in heat.
I said, “You’re pushing your luck, Dean. I’m going back to bed. I’m sorry, Miss Contague. Please don’t think ill of me because of Dean’s presumptions.”
I thought Dean was going to break out laughing. Was this some scheme to sabotage all hanky before it turned into panky?
Belinda didn’t say anything. As I fled I thought I detected the faintest look of disappointment.
You know how it goes. As soon as I was alone and the risk of her reaction was no longer part of the equation, I stared at the ceiling and entertained regrets while Belinda Contague grew more attractive by the moment, any warts magically fading.
An incurable romantic. That’s me.
I was about to head out and see what Block had accomplished. Or had not, as was more probable—though the fact that he hadn’t been back did seem promising. Belinda came bounding upstairs. “Can I go?”
“No.”
“Hey!”
“There’re people out there looking for you. I don’t think your continued good health is uppermost in their minds. And the way you look, we’d be in trouble before we got two blocks.”
“What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Not a damned thing. And that’s the problem. Was I to walk out of here with you right now, my neighbors would hate me for life. Also, anybody Crask and Sadler might have watching the place would be sure to recognize you. It isn’t like they trust me to dig my own grave unsupervised.”
“Oh, hell!” She stamped a foot, a neat move you don’t see that often. It felt rehearsed.
“If you were a redhead, nobody would pay any attention. I mean, the uglies wouldn’t. My neighbors would hate me even more. And I don’t know if I could stand it if you were everything you are now and a redhead besides.”
Dean leaned out of the kitchen, behind Belinda, gave me a look that said he thought I was laying it on with a trowel.
Belinda said, “You’re laying it on with a trowel, Garrett. But I love it. I hate being cooped up. I’ll see about becoming a redhead. Or maybe a blond. Would you like that?” Breakfast was forgotten.
“Sure. Anything. I’m easy. Just don’t put on a hundred pounds and grow a mustache.”
She winked. My spine turned to water. But I wasn’t a complete dummy. I wondered why she was getting so nice. I suggested, “You might change your look while you’re at it. Especially if the black is like a trademark.”
“Good idea.” She blew me a kiss.
I looked at Dean, who looked back and shrugged, shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he meant he didn’t know or didn’t want to be blamed.
I started toward the door again.
Garrett.
The story of my life. I can’t go anywhere or do anything without everybody in range nibbling at my time.
I stalked into the Dead Man’s room. “Yes?”
Tell Captain Block that, on consideration, I feel last night’s abduction to have been that only. The Candy woman will not be murdered until tonight, at the necessary hour. If the captain has, as seems likely with him, given up searching and is waiting for a body to surface, then he is—
“I’m on my way.”
I hit the street. I made the tail within a block. I took him for one of the outfit’s boys, not chosen for his skill at remaining unobtrusive. Crask and Sadler wanted me to know they were watching. The really good tails would stay away till they thought I’d had time to do some serious searching.
I’d fool them. I wouldn’t look at all.
Block wasn’t hard to find.
I went to his headquarters hoping to get word where to look and, behold! There he was, right there in the shop. “What the hell you doing hanging out here?” I demanded.
“We didn’t get anywhere last night. I had five hundred men on the street. They found squat. I called it off after midnight. Didn’t seem there was much chance we’d do any good then. All the killings took place before midnight, near as we know.”
“You’re waiting for somebody to find the body for you. The Dead Man said you would be.”
Block shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions. Unless you think you need another thousand marks just to open your mouth.”
“On the house this time. The Dead Man said tell you the girl is alive. They won’t do her till tonight. The killer never breaks his schedule. He just grabbed her last night because he knew we’d be watching later.”
“Still alive?” Block grabbed his chin with his left hand and started kneading while he thought about that. “Still alive.” More silence, more thought. “I’ve had all the men Winchell knew trying to guess where he’d go to hide, who he’d get to help him.”
“Probably wouldn’t need anyone but Ripley.”
“Maybe not. Laudermill!”
A staff sort of sergeant materialized. A classic of the type, his butt was twice the width of his shoulders. “Sir?”
“Anything yet on Winchell or Ripley?”
“Winchell hasn’t contacted any family or friends. They’re still checking on Ripley, but he’s a negative so far too.”
I had a thought, which has been known to happen. “Maybe we could try looking on the inside.” When this happens, it always startles people. This one surprised even me. “What was Winchell working on?”
“Huh?”
“Case-wise. Look, Block, I’ve been close enough to know you’ve been going a little farther than you’re telling anybody except maybe the Prince. Looking to make a splash when they cut you loose, I figure. Whatever. I don’t care. But some of your guys have been making some serious efforts to do real police work lately. Was Winchell? What was he doing? Maybe—”
“I got you.” Block held a debate with himself, showing expressions that suggested he was reluctant to let a cat get out of a bag. Finally, “Laudermill. Get me Relway and Spike. In here. Soon as you can.”
Laudermill departed with astonishing quickness for one of his bulk. He was a twenty-year man for sure, growing anxious about his pension.
Block said, “These guys Relway and Spike were teamed with Winchell and Ripley on a decoy thing I wanted to test. They’re irregulars. They’re off shift now, so it might take a while to find them. I never thought to check the auxiliary operatives.”
The irregular Watchmen appeared sooner than Block expected, and way too soon for me where peace of mind was concerned. Neither was human. Relway was some unlikely breed that was half dwarf and fractions of several other things. He was ugly. Also, to my surprise, he seemed to be decent and pleasant, less scarred by his ancestry and appearance than I’d have guessed. He was committed to the mission of the new Watch, an apparent fanatic.
Likewise Spike, who was a ratman. I don’t like ratmen. My dislike verges on being a prejudice. I couldn’t believe this ratman was for real. An honest ratman is a contradiction in terms, an oxymoron.
Block told me, “Relway and Spike are volunteer auxiliaries till I get my budget approved. I already have a verbal commitment for funds sufficient to add four hundred undercover operatives. These two will direct one of the companies, down where they’ll be taking you.”
Scary stuff, secret police. Great crimestoppers to begin, maybe, but how long before Block’s ambitious Prince discovered that they could be employed to root out persons of doubtful political rectitude?
Sufficient unto the day . . . “So let’s find out about our boys.”
Block questioned Relway and Spike. They did know of a place where Winchell and Ripley might be hidden. It was a hole they’d scouted while scoping out their operation. They hadn’t used it, but that wouldn’t keep Winchell away now.
Block snapped, “Garrett, you go with these two. Cover the place. Scout it out. I’ll be right behind you with reinforcements.” Away he flew.
Relway and Spike eyed me expectantly, probably figuring me for a Watch officer. They were excited. They were going to be part of something big and real before they were even officially policemen.
I jerked my head toward the door. “Let’s do it!”
Elvis Winchell and his sidekick had guts. Relway and Spike told me about the scam they’d started before chance brought the corporal and Price Ripley up against something too big to handle.
Their target area was the waterfront around Ogre Town. Real badlands. Winchell would wander the worst parts pretending to be drunk. Ripley, Relway, and the ratman would blend into the derelict scenery, then would jump whoever jumped Winchell.
I admired Winchell’s balls but had reservations about his methods. He’d made only two actual arrests, of two fairly inoffensive young muggers. But he’d sent a bunch of thugs home kneecapped, set to spend the rest of their lives on the victim side of the line. He felt that word would spread and the bad boys would take their business elsewhere.
“Maybe,” I said. “But I think they’d have just killed you.”
“Four of us?” Spike demanded. I was startled, not at all used to being addressed as an equal by a ratman. A second later I was amused by this discovery of my own flaw. Spike continued, “Muggers don’t have a guild and they don’t work in crowds. I lived in this area for years. The muggers never work in groups of more than four. Two is most common. We handled foursomes easily. Captain Block gave us the tools.”
“Maybe I’d better not pursue this. I don’t think I want to know.”
“There’s a New Order coming, Garrett,” Relway said. “Lot of people have had all they can take. The pendulum is swinging. You’re going to find people saying that if the Crown won’t solve social problems, they’ll take care of them themselves.” The man went on, at great length, till I was ready to send him off to debate those women I’d sicced on the Dead Man that time. Relway, though he had no human blood, was determined to be a factor in TunFaire society.
I suggested, “Maybe you’re overstepping, friend. Non-humans are here only by treaty. They don’t want to be subject to Karentine law, they better not claim its protection either.”
“I hear you, Garrett. And you’re right. There should be one law for everyone. You’re born in this city and live in this city, you should help make this city a decent place to live. I done my part. I did my five in the Cantard and took my Karentine citizenship.”
I got the message. Don’t look down because he was a breed. He’d paid his dues same as me.
I edged away from Relway. He was a committed activist. Every third sentence included “the New Order,” clearly capitalized.
Politicals make me nervous.
Translation: they scare the shit out of me. They’re weird and they believe the weird shit they say without looking at the implications of their becoming successful. Luckily, politicals are few in TunFaire, and those few are despised, outcasts.
They ought to learn to be less threatening, like Barking Dog Amato.
Now I saw how Relway had sublimated the anger and hatred that should result from being an unusual breed and notably ugly besides. He would keep on smiling but would restructure the world so he’d become one of its shining lights.
Fine. Go for it, buddy. Just include me out of the revolution and its aftermath. I’m happy with my life the way it is.
Relway and Spike led me to a tenement that had burned recently but incompletely. Though abandoned, its cellars remained habitable—defining habitable by liberal standards.
I asked, “How do we find out if anybody’s in there?”
It was broad daylight. I was strutting around with two guys Winchell knew, two guys with no ability to cut any slack. They had black-and-white minds. An hour earlier Winchell and Ripley were their best buddies. Now those two were just names on the sleazeball list, scum in need of expungement.
Relway gave the ruins the fish-eye. “Spike, you’re better at getting around quietly. Check it out.”
Ratmen are sneaky bastards. Spike went off like a ghost, not toward the place that interested us. Relway and I made ourselves invisible while we waited. Relway was a chatterbox with a nose a foot long. He wanted to know all about who I was and why I was interested in the case.
“None of your business,” I told him.
In a huff, Relway said, “You could at least show some manners. You could be polite. I’ll be important in the New Order.”
“I’m not polite to Block. I wouldn’t be polite to his boss. I’m not going to waste polite on you and the rat. I didn’t particularly want to be here. Fate keeps messing me around.”
“I hear what you’re saying. Same shit happens to me. Maybe more, looking the way I do.”
“Nothing wrong with the way you look,” I lied. “There’s the rat. What’s he signaling?”
“I think he means they’re in there. He wants to know what we do now.”
“What we do now is wait for Block. I got a feeling this Winchell is nasty. I’d just hate it if he got away over my dead body.”
“I know where you’re coming from, Garrett.” Relway waved and poked the air. So did Spike. “I’m not big on becoming a dead hero myself. I do want to see the New Order arrive. You wouldn’t be the Garrett that’s the investigator, would you?”
“Probably. Why? I didn’t mess up any of your family or pals, did I?”
“No. Nope. What you’re looking at is something you ain’t going to believe exists. A real one in a trillion. A pervert. An honest breed who comes from a family that’s never had even one member taken in for questioning.” His tone was challenging, and deservedly so, because my attitude reflected the general prejudice. What was embarrassing was that it wasn’t a prejudice I really felt.
“We’re off on the wrong foot here and it’s mostly my fault, Relway. It isn’t personal. I’ve been in a foul mood since I got up. I usually save my venom for the ratmen.”
“You’re weird, Garrett. Here comes the man.” He meant Block. Evidently Block was held in high esteem in some quarters.
Block still held me in high enough esteem that he sought approval before he moved. “The place is surrounded. Gonna take some doing for anybody to get out.”
“Dead Man says take them alive if you can. The curse probably can’t transfer while they’re still alive.”
“They?”
“Part must be touching Ripley somehow. Or Winchell, whichever isn’t the primary carrier.”
“Yeah. Got you. I guess there’s no reason to stall anymore. Might as well do it.”
A thought had wormed through my head several times lately. I’d pushed it out over and over. It came back again. I was going to be sorry, but, “I maybe ought to go with the first rush. The girl will recognize me. If I let her know it’s a rescue, we can maybe keep the panic level down, maybe save ourselves some people getting hurt.”
“That’s up to you. You want to go, go. I’m giving Relway first shot. Tell him what you’re doing, then don’t give him no grief while he’s doing his job. He’s better than any of my regulars.”
“Right.” I joined Relway. “I’m going in with you. The girl knows me.”
“You armed?”
“Not for blood.” I showed him my headknocker.
He shrugged. “Don’t get in the way of the real cops.”
What a straight line. It was all I could do to avoid temptation.
Relway’s storm group were armed up to take a town from a Venageti Guards division. I hoped they’d had some experience along those lines. They hadn’t had any training since.
“You figure to face that much trouble?”
“No,” Relway said. “But this bunch will be ready for whatever trouble they do find.”
“Good thinking. No way you can get chewed out for not being ready when you go in ready for everything.”
Relway smiled. “There you go.”
I looked across the street. Spike was restless. “Things always get more real at moments like this.”
“You had it that way down there?”
“Worse. Lots worse. I was a scared kid then.”
“Me too. You ready?”
“I won’t get any readier.”
“Follow me.” He took off. Garrett the white knight pranced the cobblestones a step behind, followed by a half-dozen uniformed champions of justice who had no idea how to accomplish what they’d been ordered to do. They hadn’t joined the Watch to capture madmen or protect TunFaire from villains.
The ratman had a tiny basement window scouted. As we arrived, he dived through, wriggling, his hideous naked tail lashing behind him. I think that’s what gets me about ratmen. The tails. They’re really disgusting.
“After you,” Relway said as that tail slithered inside.
“What?” That window was too small. It wasn’t meant to pass a body. It was as big as it was only because some small-timers had worked on it so they could get inside and clean the place out. Of what, I can’t imagine.
“You said you’re the hero she knows.”
“Shit.” And I did volunteer for this.
I flopped on my belly and shoved my feet through the window. The ratman pulled. Relway shoved. I popped through, hit the floor, stumbled over a loose brick, muttered, “Where are they?”
“Back where you see the light,” Spike whispered. That made him real hard to understand. Ratmen have trouble enough talking without whispering. Their throats aren’t made for speech. “You cover while we get more men down.” This ratman had spent a lifetime dealing with humans. He hadn’t hidden himself away from the mainstream, content to live in society’s cracks, taking only what no one else wanted. My respect for him rose.
I readied my headknocker, advanced toward the light, which leaked around a poorly closed door. I wondered why Winchell and Ripley hadn’t either attacked us or made a run for it. Seemed to me we were making an armageddon sort of racket.
All of a sudden I had three guys behind me and Relway telling them, “We’ve got the other way out covered. Let’s do it. Garrett?”
I took a deep breath and hit the door. I hurled myself at it, expected to demolish my shoulder.
The door collapsed. I didn’t know my own strength. I was a regular Saucerhead Tharpe. I tore it right off its hinges.
I collapsed after two staggering steps over a footing of broken bricks.
Elvis Winchell and Price Ripley were hard at work snoring on beds of sacks and rags. Evidently carrying a curse was exhausting work. The only open eyes around belonged to Candy. She responded to my entrance but not in any wild display of joy.
Hell. She didn’t know why we were there. For all she knew, we were pals with Winchell and his sidekick. I stumbled to my feet. “We’re the rescue crew.” Winchell and Ripley had begun to respond, finally. Relway bopped Ripley over the head before the poor guy could get his eyes open. Relway wasn’t having any trouble with the footing. He looked positively graceful.
Spike had less luck putting Winchell back to sleep. Winchell evaded his blows, scooted away, his eyes trying to sparkle green. Maybe he didn’t quite have the hang of it yet.
Gods, he looked awful. Like he’d aged fifteen years in the time since he’d helped bring in the villain Downtown Byrd had given us. Ripley, too, looked bad, but not nearly as bad as Winchell.
“Rescue crew? You sure? You look more like a circus act.”
Spike and two Watchmen were chasing Winchell. Winchell wasn’t cooperating at all. Relway and the other man were stuffing Ripley into a big sack.
Block appeared at the other entrance to the cellar, was careful not to place himself in extreme danger. I called, “Hey, Captain. This one don’t need rescuing. She’s got it under control already.”
Candy said, “You’re the guy who’s been hanging around Hullar’s.” I cut the cords binding her ankles. They were nice ankles. I hadn’t noticed how nice before. I’d been entranced by all the nice stuff higher up. “Garrett?”
“That’s me. Trusty knight-errant. Invariably refused and abused for trying to warn people that they’re in danger.”
“Watch the hands, boy. I’ve heard about you.”
Ripley was headed for the street now, out of it, but Winchell was putting up a fight, even though Relway and Spike, working together, had a sack over his head and arms. Neither Relway nor Winchell was in uniform. Having been employed, both had been able to afford reasonably nice civilian clothing. Vaguely surprised, though, I noted that Winchell used a rather heavy-looking piece of rope for a belt.
“I’ve heard about me too. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself. What did you hear? Obviously not that I’m a prize.”
Spike, Relway, and the gang managed to get Winchell tipped over and all the way into the giant sack. Relway got busy tying it shut.
“Prize pig. You remember a Rose Tate?”
Relway kicked the flopping sack. “Better than a cell on wheels,” he told nobody in particular.
“Ah, sweet Rosie again,” I said. “Yes. Let me tell you about Rose. This is a true story that you’ll believe if you know Rose and will call a fairy tale if you don’t.” I had time. The boys seemed to be getting along fine without me. Just to make sure I didn’t lose my audience, I became totally inept at untangling and cutting. Relway and the boys started dragging Winchell toward the door. Winchell writhed and cussed all the way. He wasn’t alone in that sack. In fact, green butterflies fluttered around the basement, confused, more worried about the single candle burning than anything else. Again I wondered what the butterflies had to do with anything, if they did. Maybe they were just something like a skunk’s spray.
Then there was just Candy and me, and she didn’t seem distressed by my lack of haste as I talked about Rose Tate. In fact, I started looking around for the knives I’d seen at the Hamilton place while I talked. In the back of my mind was a curiosity about how she knew Rose. When I finished my story I asked, “How’d you come to meet Rose?”
“You have a good idea what’s going on with me? I know you’ve been asking around. Hullar told me.”
“I was just trying to keep you from having a date with the guy they just hauled out of here. He likes to whittle on rich girls.”
“I got that part. I guess maybe I should thank you for not letting him eat my liver.”
“That would be nice.” I finally found the knives under the mess Winchell had been using for a bed. I didn’t want to touch them, but supposed they’d be harmless as long as Winchell was breathing.
“Thank you, Garrett. And I do mean it. I get real sarcastic when I’m scared.” Notice how we weren’t talking about how she’d met Rosie? I didn’t.
“You must be scared shitless all the time when you’re down to Hullar’s, then.” That was how she was known there. As a sarcastic bitch.
“You’re going to ruin your chances, Garrett.”
I made a sound like a steam whistle. “You’re beautiful, but I’m losing interest fast. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder why I wasted my time here. Your personality is sabotaging the advantages nature gave you.”
“Story of my life, Garrett. I make a point of shoving my foot into my mouth whenever things start going good. I’m predetermined to fail, that’s what my mother says. All right. I promise. I’ll try. Thank you. You saved my life. Other than the obvious, what can I do for you?”
Block appeared in the doorway and stuck his oar in. “What are you up to down here, Garrett?”
“Looking for stuff.”
“Find anything?”
“Yeah. Those knives. The Dead Man said we should break them.”
Block came a couple steps closer, looked at the four naked blades. “Is it safe to mess with them that way?”
“Winchell and Ripley still healthy?”
“Yeah.”
“Then they’re safe. Unless you go sticking yourself.”
He made a rude sound, took the knives. “I’ll bust them up right now.” He left.
I told Candy, “Other than the obvious, which is less obvious than you think, you can come to my place and talk to my partner. He’s the brains of the outfit. He wants to see you.”
“He some kind of freak? Can’t come see me?”
“He’s handicapped.” I hid my grin. Nobody is handicapped like the Dead Man is handicapped.
We climbed out of the cellar. Candy never stopped yammering. I did gestures of defeat, tried to introduce her to Block formally so she’d know who got official credit for her rescue. It didn’t sink in. She was chattering at me. He was interested only in breaking the knives, which he accomplished thoroughly, cracking each into four pieces. “That ought to take care of that.” Block was puffed up and happy.
Pride goeth before, I told myself. “Better make sure they don’t have anything else off that bum. We don’t know it’s the knives carrying the curse.”
“We burned the bum and everything he was wearing. Now we’ll burn these . . . Yeah. Right. Not before we can do something about the curse.”
“Later.” Candy was still after me. I said, “Woman, I’m not going to keep on. I don’t do masochism. But do walk along with me, see my partner. My place is right on your way home.”
I paused to stare at the captives. Both were lost inside burlap sacks. Winchell’s seethed. Ripley’s did nothing, but left me with an uncertain frown. A little bitty thing like a clothes moth fluttered away while I was looking.
Meantime, Candy demanded, “How do you know your house is on my way home?”
“I admit I haven’t figured out who you really are yet. But I do know you come off the Hill. Rich girls are the only kind this killer liked. So if you’re going to go home and hide out from the real world and tell yourself how lucky you were and forget all this and treat the lower—”
“You an Acmeist? Or an Anarchist?”
“Huh? You lost me.” But I hadn’t lost her. I was heading home and she was tagging right along. The Dead Man would be pleased.
“They’re crackpot underground groups, Garrett. There are dozens of those. Pointillists. Deconstructionists. Calibrators. Avatars, Atheists, Realists, Post-Moderns. The way you were going on . . . ”
“I don’t have anything to do with politics, mainly in hopes that politics won’t have anything to do with me. It’s my considered, cynical opinion that, no matter how much we’re overdue for a change, any human-directed change will be for the worse, to the benefit of a smaller and more corrupt ruling class.” At that moment I saw the face of the next fad: revolution. “Meantime, do you have a name? A real name?”
All those ists would have as their troops poor little bored rich girls.
“Candace.”
“Really? You’re using your real name?”
“Might as well. Nobody ever used it but my brother. He died in the Cantard last year. He was a cavalry captain.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Garrett.”
“Huh?”
“You lost somebody there too.”
I got it. “Yeah. Not like it’s a unique experience, is it? So what do most people call you?”
“Mickey.”
“Mickey? How did they get Mickey out of Candace?”
She laughed. She had a wonderful laugh when she was doing nothing but being happy. I could feel myself becoming distracted. “I don’t know. From my nanny. She had pet names for all of us. What?”
I was chuckling. “You wakened a memory. My little brother. We called him Foobah.”
“Foobah?”
“I don’t know. My mom. She called me Wart.”
“Wart? Yeah. I can see that.” She danced away, pointed. “Wart! Wart!”
“Hey! Knock it off.” People were staring.
She did a pirouette. “Wart. The famous investigator, Wart.” She laughed, took off running.
She ran because I started after her. She could run pretty good. She had the legs. They were such nice legs, I didn’t try too hard, just floated along enjoying the view.
That started when we weren’t far from home. It swept into Macunado Street, so I caught up, said, “Couple blocks up that way. This is my neighborhood. People know me.”
She laughed as she fought for breath. “Yes, sir, Mr. Wart. I’ll maintain your dignity, Mr. Wart.” She was still laughing and giving me a hard time when Dean opened the front door.
Belinda was in the hallway. She scowled at Candy. Candy scowled at Belinda. Wasn’t any doubt they recognized one another. Candy gave me one last jab. “Did you know his nickname is Wart?”
“Dean,” I growled, “bring refreshments to the Dead Man’s room. Also smelling salts in case I bop this one over the head.” I had a problem suddenly. I was caught between two gorgeous women, both interesting, each eyeing the other like a cat fixing to sharpen her claws. On me.
I was out of practice but remembered how my luck ran. When the fur started flying, most of it would be mine. They’d be happy to gang up on me.
I heard a noise from the small front room and suffered the inspiration of my life. I popped in there before Dean’s latest stray made cover. It was a little furball so friendly that even I, if pressed, would’ve admitted it was cute. I darted back into the hall, where the ladies were exchanging killer stares. I got that kitten purring. “I guess you guys know each other.” I told Candy, “She’s hiding out here. From the killer.” I told Belinda, “The killer snatched her last night. We just rescued her. I brought her by to talk to the Dead Man.”
“I figured. I’d heard she’d been taken.” She looked at the kitten without that sparkle kittens ignite in the eyes of their fans. Damn. Inspiration wasted.
“Aren’t you sweet,” Candy cooed.
Great. Halfway there, anyway. “Why don’t you hold him while I check in with my partner?” She hadn’t reacted to me calling him by name. I played pass the kitty, headed for the Dead Man’s door. As I neared it, Candy jumped, frowned in that way people do when first they hear from His Nibs direct.
I stepped inside. “You see what I got out here? Any special way you want to handle her?”
Just bring her in. He was vastly amused by something. I could guess what. Two women. Me panting shamelessly, trying to conjure some way to have my Belinda and Candy too. This will be a true test of your fabled charm. Especially as both women have been forewarned by your old friend Rose Tate.
“Make fun of my misery.”
Prepare her. She is under a great deal of stress still. My appearance may be too much for her as a surprise.
I thought she was handling her stress pretty well, taking it out on me.
The kitty thing did work. The women were together now, examining the cat but talking about Candy’s adventure. I said, “He wants you to come in now. I need to warn you, he’s not human. Don’t be too startled when you see him.”
Candy didn’t seem surprised. “Is he real repulsive? Like an ogre?”
“No. He’s just fat, mostly. And he’s got a big nose.”
“He’s a sweetheart,” Belinda said.
“Who is?” I demanded.
“Can I take Josh with me?” Candy meant the kitten. Named already. Belinda nodded, never consulting me.
“All right,” I said, as though anyone cared what the owner thought in his own home. “Good idea.” The cat could be a focus for some good feelings, good thoughts, when those might still be pretty hard to touch.
Candy went into the Dead Man’s room. She didn’t start screaming.
Belinda remarked. “I really do think you may be one of the good guys, Garrett.”
“Huh?”
She waved a hand like she’d heard things about me she didn’t want to repeat in my presence. I was baffled. How much could those two have said while I was with the Dead Man?
Women. Go figure them.
Belinda took my arm, cuddled up to my side. “It too early for you to take me to the kitchen and buy me a beer?”
We found Dean putting the final touches on a hot meal. “What’s this?” I asked.
“You need to eat. And the young lady you brought home obviously hasn’t had a decent meal for some time.”
Food is serious stuff to Dean. If he had his way, every meal would be a production. He’s appalled by my attitude, that food is just fuel—though I do enjoy good food when I eat it. I just won’t go out of my way or spend any extra. Call me a savage.
I drew beer for Belinda. She said, “I’ve been thinking about my problem with Crask and Sadler.”
“Good.” I hadn’t had time.
“Can you get the door, Mr. Garrett?” Dean asked. An impressive amount of racket had broken out there. “I can’t interrupt this.”
“Sorry,” I told Belinda.
She just smiled and winked.
“Now what?” I groaned as I stepped aside so Block could come in. “Don’t tell me you screwed up again. I couldn’t stand it if you told me you screwed up again.”
“Winchell got away, Garrett.”
“I begged you not to tell me you screwed up again.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“The hell it wasn’t. You were in charge. The guy was tied up in a gunnysack. How could he get away?”
“Some damned fool decided he wanted to take a look, so he opened the sack.”
I nearly screamed. “And the butterflies got after him and Winchell just politely crawled out and waltzed away. Right?”
“Right.”
“What I ought to do is take you and this other damned fool and tie you both up in a gunnysack and dump you in the river.”
“This other damned fool is Prince Rupert. And he’s been quite good about not trying to shift the blame.”
“Well, good-ee. I’ll cheer when he’s crowned. So what? Why’re you here bugging me?”
Block sneered. “I’m not. I want to see your partner. He’s done well guessing what the killer will do.”
“Because he has a diseased mind too. I’m sure he knows you’re here. He has somebody with him right now. Just hang out in there.” I indicated the small front room. “He’ll call you. I’m having lunch.” And you’re not invited, you incompetent sonofabitch.
I sat down opposite Belinda. “Why don’t we kiss off TunFaire? Why don’t we get married and run off to the Carnival Islands and open a fortune-telling booth?”
“That’s an interesting proposition. What brought it on?”
“The Watch let the killer get away. That madman is back on the street and he’s got eight or ten hours to play his little prank.”
“But if Candy and I are here—”
“He’ll kill somebody else. He has to kill somebody.”
Somehow, like it or not, my house became the tactical headquarters of the hunt for Elvis Winchell. By sunset Prince Rupert had made himself a guest. I couldn’t keep him out, but I was a hardass about his yes-men. Jumped in there with a ferocious, confrontational smile and said, “Your lordship, I haven’t the facilities to serve all those men.” When he wasn’t instantly offended enough to holler for the headsman, I went so far as to suggest, “Their numbers are attracting attention.” It was way late, but the night people were out there and they were noticing the crowd.
We compromised. He didn’t bring anybody inside.
This Prince Rupert was the first royal I’d met. What I saw didn’t impress me either way, though later the Dead Man did blather on about the good intentions he’d found in the man’s mind. At that time I wasn’t in one of my better moods, so just remarked that the road to hell was paved, and so forth.
The sun hadn’t yet risen when word came that they’d found Emma Setlow, AKA Dixie Starr, in the usual state. The troops had arrived while the ritual was winding down. Winchell had taken another successful powder but his helper had been captured. The knives had been recovered.
“Knives?” I asked. “What knives? We already broke the knives.”
The knives in question turned out to be plain old kitchen knives, not the best for the job they had done.
The Dead Man observed, I suspect we will find that the knives were not the vehicle for the curse.
“Hell,” I muttered, “I had that figured. Winchell wouldn’t still be on the hoof if they were.”
The knives are broken, shattered, but the curse goes on.
“Cute. What about the guy they caught?”
The helper was a retarded ratman (an oxymoron again) who admitted he’d been baby-sitting Dixie since her kidnapping, which had taken place well before the snatch on Candy. Meaning Winchell had decided to stock up on brunettes. After he had escaped from Block and the Prince he’d just run off to where he’d had Dixie stashed.
I muttered, “I don’t like this. This Winchell sounds too damned smart.”
“Winchell?” Block sneered. “Winchell needs help tying his shoes.”
It is the curse, gentlemen. This time around—meaning this return to the world—it has reached some critical stage of growth. I suspect it would not be false to state that it has reached a point where it has begun to teach itself, not just to learn in the slow way a dog does, through numerous repetitions. It might behoove us to consider the horror of the possibility that it may develop an ability to reason.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. A curse makes your cow go dry or gives you shingles or makes your kid crosseyed. It isn’t something that—”
In the world of your village charm seller, you are correct. Probably no sorcerer alive today could cast this spell. But this spell comes down from a time when giants walked the earth.
Giants were walking the earth right outside. Well, within a mile, anyway. But I didn’t argue. One of the earliest lessons I learned about dealing with Old Bones is: don’t get him going on the good old days. “Giants? Well, maybe. But we’re here to develop a strategy.”
Considering the Prince and Captain Block, that strategy would be as much political as it was aimed at removing a major villain from the streets.
The Dead Man agreed with me. Winchell will keep as short a profile as possible but he will not be able to remain hidden. He may be able to do without a helper, but his need to kill is on a short and shortening cycle. Six nights from tonight he will have to kill again. Inasmuch as Miss . . . Altmontigo . . . has been rescued, he will have to develop his next victim from scratch—assuming we can keep our two houseguests isolated. That he sent to me alone. Our guests didn’t need to know we had anyone special squirreled away. He will be hunting. If he manages to get his victim without help this time, he will still have to recruit helpers. He cannot stop killing and he cannot stop the circle of death growing smaller every time, so that he has to kill sooner.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Block said. “There a point to all this yammer?”
Yes. Winchell’s financial resources cannot be vast. Counter his recruiting efforts by offering a substantial reward for his capture.
“Who’s Miss Altmontigo?” I asked, regretting it before I finished speaking. Yet I wondered why he’d hesitated that instant, before and after. Because of Block and the Prince?
Candy to you. Or Mickey.
One very unsettling point here. The Altmontigos are an ancient and honored family from the highest heights of the Hill. What was I getting into? I had a royal prince and as high-toned a young woman as could be found visiting at the same time? Not to mention I was giving shelter to a princess of the underworld.
All of that meant notice. I don’t like being noticed by people with that kind of power.
The arguments went on and on. Dawn came and went. I said the hell with it. I wasn’t contributing anything and wasn’t hearing anything useful to me. What suggestions I did make were ignored. So let the great powers scope things out their own way. After they screwed up and looked like complete fools, I could lean back smugly and tell them they should’ve listened to me in the first place.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs. Belinda was up there. Candy was up there. Dean was on the daybed in the small front room again.
That damned kitten started rubbing up against my ankle, purring, trying to get in good. I picked him up. “Little buddy, first thing in the morning you get to learn a valuable lesson. You can’t get by on cute and the kindness of strangers. You’re going to hit the street.”
The cat purred. And somebody pounded on the door.
I didn’t get in any hurry. I ambled toward the front door wondering if I couldn’t booby-trap the front steps, putting in something where if you didn’t trip the secret safety you got dumped into a bottomless pit.
Wonderful idea but, unfortunately, not really practical. The practical thing to do was ignore the door. Only most people who want to see me know I have that habit and know that I’ll storm to the door eventually if they just raise hell long enough.
This little nightmare visitor was one neglected subject slash coconspirator name of Barking Dog Amato. Just what I needed in the middle of the night. Well, morning. It had turned morning when I wasn’t looking.
“I didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No. Me? I haven’t been to bed yet. I was just heading there. It’s been a nasty day in a nasty week in a nasty month.”
“The girl killer? I heard there was another one.”
“That’s on the street already?”
“Word gets around when people are interested.”
“I guess. Come back to the kitchen.” I jerked a thumb at the Dead Man’s door. “Your old pal Block is in there cooking up something with His Nibs.” I settled Amato at the kitchen table. “Beer?”
“Sure.”
“What’s up?” I asked as I drew two.
“Well . . . It’s an imposition, I know. I got up, it was raining out, I was sick of doing signs and handbills. So I got out and started walking. My feet brought me here.”
What the hell? I didn’t need sleep. Who needs sleep when you lead a righteous life? “Some leftover apple pie here. Want some?”
“Sure. I don’t get much decent food. What did you think the other day?”
“You made a hell of a start. I didn’t get to see it all, though.”
“I noticed you disappeared.”
“Not by choice. Some of Chodo Contague’s thugs came around, told me the man wanted to see me.”
“I thought I saw some of those guys just before you disappeared.”
“You know Chodo’s people?”
“Not by direct experience, thank heaven. But I’ve watched the outfit for years, gathering information. They haven’t tried to profit at my expense yet, but when they do, I’ll be ready.”
Which meant what? There was someone inside the outfit who suffered from mercy and tolerance? Not hardly.
Belinda walked in. Candy was right behind her. Neither was formally attired. Barking Dog immediately proved that he wasn’t all crazy. His eyes bugged. He drooled. If the moon had been up, he would have howled at it. He squeaked, “Who are these lovely ladies, Garrett?”
“They’re involved in the serial-killer thing. This one is Belinda and this one is Candy. Guys, this is Kropotkin Amato.”
Belinda wasn’t impressed but Candy practically jumped out of her underwear. She just had to ask: “Barking Dog Amato?” Looking me right in the eye, “Sas’s father?”
In two blinks Amato was a changed man. “Sas? Like in a nickname for Lonie? You know Lonie Amato?”
Belinda caught on, grabbed Candy’s hand. Candy was chalk pale but, apparently, Belinda’s move wasn’t fast enough to stifle her. She said, “Sure. We work with Sas. Don’t we?” So, I thought. You girls have wasted the night away having a hen session upstairs. I hoped a guy named Garrett hadn’t played too prominent a role.
Barking Dog said, “Lonie is my daughter. Not many people know . . . I haven’t seen her since she was five. My wife . . . She never believed in what I was doing. She thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. She took off. With Lonie. You know Lonie? You really know Lonie?”
Even crackpots get to shed their tears.
The girls didn’t know what to say. I waved them off. I said, “Old buddy, I guess I owe you a little confession. The reports we’ve been doing? They’ve been going to your daughter through Hullar. Yeah. He was a nominee but not a villain.”
“Lonie? Really? You know my daughter, Garrett?”
“I’ve seen her, that’s all. I don’t know her.”
“Is she all right? Tell me about her. Tell me everything.”
“I’m going to break your heart, old buddy. I can’t. We get along and we’ve worked some things together, but you aren’t my client. Hullar is, for your daughter. I can’t tell you anything unless they say it’s all right. I will tell you that she’s healthy. She ain’t up in the world, but she’s a long way from down. You want to know more, I’ll see what Hullar says.”
Belinda said, “I’ve changed my mind. You’re a real shit, Garrett.”
“What if I was working for you? Would you want me telling your business without permission?”
She grumbled. She made noises. She understood. Barking Dog might well be enthusiastic about news of his daughter, but would the daughter be eager to have him intrude upon her life?
Lonie’s wishes had to be consulted.
Barking Dog reached that conclusion too. Maybe faster than I did. He said, “Garrett, you talk to her. See if she’ll meet me. You work that out, where I can see her, I’ll be your slave for life. Anything you want, it’s yours. I loved that girl. And I haven’t seen her since she was practically a baby.”
Belinda and Candy looked at me like they expected pearls of wisdom to drip from my lips, as though with a wave of rusty knight’s blade all could be made right between Barking Dog and his long-lost child. There was a lot of sentimental emotion floating around. If I was going to gain any ground with either of these beauties, I was going to have to play for the reunion.
I’m a cynic. I admit it. I had to do it to maintain my chances. No way was I going to waste my precious time on that out of sentiment. I’m one of the hard guys. You can’t get me with that mush.
I hoped Amato’s heart didn’t break when he found out what his daughter did.
Hell, I didn’t know what she did. Did I? She danced for Bishoff Hullar. That didn’t make her a whore. Anyway, that wasn’t any of my business.
I said, “I don’t want to be impolite, guys, but I really am beat. I’ve been hustling all day. You ladies want to stay up, talk to Mr. Amato, that’s fine with me. Make sure the front door is locked when you go to bed. What that means is, one of you has to stay up till Mr. Amato and those clowns in there with His Nibs leave.”
The Dead Man proved that one of his brains had room left for me while he entertained royalty. You need not concern yourself, Garrett. I suspect that I will not get rid of this prince short of being so rude he hauls us up on charges. I am confident Dean will be awake in ample time to see our last guest out. Do get some sleep.
That didn’t sound good at all. He isn’t kind to me unless he has plans for me. If he wanted me rested, he meant to run me into the ground later.
I patted Amato’s shoulder. “Talk to the girls. I’ll see about your daughter.”
Two minutes later I was between the sheets. I killed the lamp and was unconscious before my head hit the pillow.
The Dead Man ran me into the ground for days. I got to do all the legwork Block’s men were supposed to have done already.
Actually, they had gathered all the relevant records into one room in the Chancery cellar. They just never got around to doing anything with the documents. So I got to winnow and collate—where I could. I had to bring in help with the older documents, which were recorded in the abandoned Odellic alphabet and wouldn’t have been readable anyway because the language has changed so much.
While I goofed off days and spent profligate evenings in the Tenderloin, Block hunted Winchell and tried to avoid public notice. Word was out that he was the man charged with ending the killings. It was also out that he wasn’t having much luck. The scale and scope of the mess were getting exaggerated. The precursors of hysteria filled the air—which made no sense because people get murdered every day, curse or no curse.
I think Block’s mistake was offering a reward for Winchell, despite that being the Dead Man’s idea. That focused attention. Attention got the poor fool working on an ulcer. His buddy Rupert couldn’t shield him from all the high-ranking dolts who just had to explain to him the best way of doing his job. The Prince himself was guilty of forgetting they were after a killer who was a bit out of the ordinary.
“Tell the man,” Block grumbled. “He don’t listen to me.”
“Getting disenchanted?”
“Not yet. But close. I can still realize that he’s got his own problems and that’s why he can’t give us more help. It’s just a tad irritating when he shuts out whatever he doesn’t want to hear, though.”
I shrugged a cynic’s shrug. I had no faith in his prince.
So Block made excuses for him. “He does have enemies, Garrett. Plenty of people think TunFaire is just dandy the way it is now. Mostly they’re people whose fortunes would suffer from an outbreak of law and order.”
“If it isn’t law and order it’ll be an outbreak of something.” The signs were growing stronger. “I ran into some old ladies who want to demolish all the breweries, wineries, and distilleries.”
“That’s going too far.”
“I tried to tell them. I said, ‘There is no civilization without beer. Beer is the lifeblood in the veins of society.’ They wouldn’t listen.”
That put a smile on his face. “Fanatics. What can you do? We get fifty complaints a day about these religious nuts, Mississans, whatever they are.” His grin meant he thought I’d invented the old ladies. I hadn’t. They were working the Chancery steps a few levels above Barking Dog, crowded into a spot nobody else wanted. I wasn’t worried about them. In no rational society would theirs be an idea whose time could come.
I saw a lot of Amato, spending my days at the Chancery. He wasn’t the same Barking Dog. The old fervor had gone. I made a point of catching him on his break. “What’s happening, hey? Something gone wrong?”
“I’m scared.” He didn’t beat around it.
“Scared? You? Barking Dog Amato?”
“Yeah. Me. People haven’t really noticed yet, but they will. You did. Then where’ll I be?”
“What’s the matter? What happened?” Maybe he had somebody persecuting him for real.
“My daughter. Suddenly I’m vulnerable. When I didn’t know about her, nobody could get to me.”
“You’re safe. Hardly anybody knows about her now. We’re not talking.” I sniffed the air. What was that? Aha! Amato wasn’t nearly as aromatic as once he’d been.
“Yeah. I guess. I keep telling myself them what knows is decent folk. Then I get scared of her.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I snuck down to the Tenderloin. I figured she had to hang out around that Hullar’s place sometimes, else how would he know to hire you. Right?” Everybody thinks he’s an investigator. “So I hang out and hang out and finally I get me a look at the gal they call Sas.”
“And?”
“She looked all right.”
“I told you that. She’s got people to look out for her.”
“Now I know about her, there’s no way I can get around meeting her face-to-face. And that scares the shit out of me. What do you say to your kid you ain’t seen since she was this high?”
It would terrify Sas too. When the time came. She didn’t know that he was aware of her existence. I kept debating whether or not to tell Hullar. It would piss him off, but I guessed I’d better. “I understand. But don’t let the stress get you. You may have a valuable mission ahead.”
“Huh?”
“You should get out among the people. Hang around the taverns and sidewalk cafes.” Plotting urban revolution isn’t a poor boy’s hobby. Poor folks stay too busy working to keep body and soul and family together.
Amato shook his head. “I wouldn’t fit in.”
“Sure you would. Get yourself some new clothes. Put in some time getting in touch with today’s popular climate.”
“How come?” Mild suspicion. He still didn’t trust me completely.
“There’s a new spirit afoot. It doesn’t amount to much yet, but it could. You ought to be aware of it.” I thought he could become a real force on the street if he addressed real fears and angers. Lots of people had heard of him. He was a folk hero. People did listen when he stopped talking about himself.
He spoke largely out of imagined pasts now, but there was no reason he couldn’t apply his passion to futures as yet unimagined.
Captain Block caught me during my chat with Barking Dog. He looked less like a Watchman than ever, though he was well-dressed. His henchmen, too, were trading uniforms for street clothing. Apparel had become a statement. Those who shed the red and blue meant to take their work seriously. The rest would become unemployed if Prince Rupert gained control of the city’s police powers.
“How’s it going?” Block asked. He ignored Amato. Barking Dog pretended Block was invisible. It was a good working arrangement.
“I’ve got a story. Sort of. It’s not as clear as I’d like. It won’t be much use. The documentation is all of the we-did-this-and-that, this-woman-got-killed, so-did-that-one, we-caught-the-villain-and-hanged-him-and-buried-him-where-he-fell variety. Not a hint how to control the curse.
“Back then the curse didn’t migrate from villain to villain the way it does now. It didn’t get the chance. I think the people involved understood it better. And it wasn’t as sophisticated as it is now. And the local wizards weren’t always out of town. The job wasn’t just up to the Watch.
“Before the second killing round ended, everybody knew they were dealing with an accursed man who’d opened the grave of the first killer.” And we, as brilliant as our forebears, had gotten that far too. Hooray.
“They didn’t do anything about it?”
“Sure. They hanged a man and buried him where they thought he wouldn’t be found. They were wrong. I’m no expert on sorcery, but I’ll bet this curse has some kind of summons built in that calls till somebody hears it and sets it free. Smarter and nastier than it’s ever been before.”
Block mused, “And today we can’t do anything about it even if we want. We don’t have anyone who can neutralize it. Because of the war.”
Yep. All our real badass wizards were in the Cantard.
“What about your end?” I asked. You never know. He or his boys might have tripped over Winchell.
“Not a trace. We’ll have to trap him. It’s set. The girl goes back to work tonight. She skips tomorrow night, works the next two nights. The extra one is in case he can hold off for a day. Your partner says he wouldn’t move two days early.”
I didn’t think Winchell would be dumb enough to go where he was expected at all.
Block continued, “The only people in the place not part of the cover team will be Hullar, the dwarf, and three girls Hullar trusts with his life. There won’t be no way Winchell can get to her. If he has to do it, he’ll have to take the bait.”
If he had to have either Candy or Belinda. But I wasn’t the least bit confident that Winchell wouldn’t find other victims. Unless his girl luck was as bad as mine.
I didn’t criticize. The Dead Man had scoped out this plan. He termed it his martial-arts approach. We would lay back and let the curse betray itself. I’ve already mentioned his plan’s obvious weaknesses.
“Just suppose he gives it a skip and takes second best.”
“The minute we find a body, we’re on his trail. Spike’s hired the best ratman trackers in town. They’re on call. In fact, he’s got them wandering around in case they cross Winchell’s track by chance.”
When everything you can do isn’t enough, you do whatever you can. Give Block that. This time he was giving a hundred percent.
He asked, “You identify the sorcerer responsible?”
“Only to a probability. It goes way back. Farther than we thought. There’s still some stuff I need translated before I can say for sure, though.”
“Goddamnit, say something for unsure.”
“Hey, temper. The oldest depositions, first time there were killings, mention a Drachir Nevets. I checked with a historian. He’d never heard of a Drachir Nevets but he did know about a Lopata Drachir of Nevetska, a real shadowy old-time superwizard who was always into it with a sorcerer named Lubbock Candide. Drachir’s forte seems to have been writing curses so complicated that nobody could escape them.”
Block grunted, thought a moment, amazed me by knowing the names. He was better educated than I’d suspected. “Why this particular curse? Any hints?”
“More shadowy stuff. Candide had a daughter.”
“Arachne.”
“Right. A major ass-kicker herself. Unless the translator was yanking my leg, both Drachir and Candide were out to win her favors and found a dynasty of witch-kings. Arachne decided she’d rather snuggle up with daddy, which pissed Drachir off mightily. Which, I’m guessing, led him to send a curse after her.”
“All that would have been way, way before the first killings.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking maybe that wasn’t the real first time around, only the first that got recorded.”
“Like maybe Arachne deflected the curse earlier and buried it and didn’t tell anybody.”
“Maybe.” The man could think when he wanted. “It might be useful to find out if there are any extant portraits of Drachir and the Candides. Especially Arachne.”
Block grunted. He wore a faraway look. “This just won’t be settled the easy way, will it?”
“Not hardly.” Heavens, the things I was going to have to talk over with the Dead Man. And him not in a charitable mood because the news from the Cantard had such a lull-before-the-storm feel. “Speaking of things not settling easily, without making a big to-do, catch a look at the guy watching us from up where the old ladies do their temperance thing.”
Block looked. “Chodo’s man Crask.”
“Bingo. I’m going to trust you with something.” Barking Dog had gone back to work early, not wanting to be close to a minion of his oppressors. No one would hear.
“The other girl at my place. Belinda. Her full name is Belinda Contague. As in the daughter of Chodo Contague. She’s hiding out with me because Crask and Sadler want to kill her.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because they did something to Chodo. Poisoned him or something. I’ve seen him.” What the hell? Everybody lies to the police. “He’s a vegetable. They just pretend he’s giving the orders. Belinda knows that, which is why they want to get rid of her.”
“I think I missed something, Garrett.”
“Belinda can take them down. They have to cover their scam or lose control. I got into it because they wanted to hire me to find her for them.”
“A girl who happens to be one of the main targets of our killer?”
That had been a problem for me, briefly. “I thought it was one damned long coincidence till I realized I was looking at it from the wrong end. From the end where we are, chasing Winchell. Look at it coming the other way. The thing between Belinda and Crask and them has been going on for months. The girl-killer thing is just something she stumbled into going somewhere else. She wouldn’t have been involved at all if the other thing hadn’t made her run away from home. Chance brought me into it at one point rather than another, sooner than later. The players had me chalked in for their game.”
Block looked uncomfortable. “How come you’re telling me? It ain’t healthy knowing too much about Chodo’s business.”
“Because there’s a very large and nasty man up there giving me very evil looks. He’s unhappy because I haven’t been busting my butt trying to find Belinda instead of noodling around with some who-cares serial-killing thing. As I recall, I’m supposed to call on the Watch if it can give me a hand. Not to mention that you might get a kick out of poking a stick into the eye of an evildoer of Crask’s stature, knowing he doesn’t really have Chodo behind him.”
“Tell you the truth, Garrett, I think getting Crask off the street is a grand idea.” He snarled it, setting off alarms. What had I done? “But I don’t have much confidence in it being a healthy idea. What’s he doing?”
“Glaring daggers. Probably thinking how nice it will be to drag me somewhere where he can do dental work on me.”
“Why?”
“The girl. He doesn’t know she’s staying at my place. He hasn’t seen me lift a finger to find her. Despite my having been told very plainly that it would be in my best interest to do so.”
“You’re sure Chodo’s out of it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then maybe I’ll have some fun with Crask. But don’t expect a lot. These people always have friends in high places.”
“How well I know,” I muttered.
Block winked. “Have a nice day.” He strolled away, looking thoughtful, leaving me beached and sputtering.
I did notice that he had friends in the crowd, mostly his auxiliaries. He’d begun to enjoy his role as honest Watchman. I wondered if he’d started turning all bribes away or only the most embarrassing ones.
I hoped the New Order thing didn’t go to his head. Truly there can be such a thing as too much law and order—though I can’t foresee TunFaire ever suffering from that.
I bade a soft farewell to Barking Dog. He was on a roll, did not have time to set his brass megaphone down. He indicated his latest report on himself. I snagged it and moved away, awaited Crask.
Crask was displeased with me. “What kind of creep are you, Garrett, hanging out with dogshit like Block?”
“He’s not so bad. We’re old pals. Didn’t you know? Sort of in business together too. The new order, like that.” I couldn’t get the caps in like Block’s creature Relway. “Got a problem with that?”
“I got a problem with you. You was hired to do something. You ain’t doing it.”
“You’re mistaken. Despite having had money forced upon me, I didn’t agree to anything. Not to say I refuse the job. But I do have a couple other things to wrap before I get to it. So flutter away.”
“No. Chodo hires you, you’re on the job now. It’s the only job on your list.”
“Aw, shucks. Here we go. How long you known me, Crask? Long enough. You know no matter how many ugly faces you pull, no matter how many muscles you flex, I’m going to do things my way. I told you, I have things to finish first. You wait in line just like you was real people.”
“You’re pissing me off, Garrett.”
“Eek.” That was the idea. “I have that effect on people. Especially the kind who jump lines or think they deserve special consideration.” If he was going to do anything, I wanted him to do something stupid, in public. “Look here. Look real close. I want you should see my heartfelt pain at how I’m causing you distress.”
“I come here just going to caution you gentle, Garrett. Just going to take a minute out to show you the error of your thinking, so to speak. But now I got a feeling we need to go someplace and talk.”
“You aren’t half as slick as you think, Crask.” That was Block, materializing out of nowhere. “Why don’t we all sit down on the steps here, like we was old buddies.”
“Bug off, asshole,” Crask said. “Ain’t none of your business, what we’re talking about.”
“Maybe you’re right. But maybe I’m not interested in that.” Block backed up a couple steps, settled onto the stone wall at the edge of the Chancery steps. He waved. A man stepped out of the crowd. Even I was startled. He seemed to have come from nowhere. Block said, “Well, Blinky?”
Blinky replied, “We removed the coach. We arrested three men.”
“Well. How about that?”
Crask didn’t look at Block. He put it all on me. “What the hell’s going on here, Garrett?”
“You know as much as I do.”
Block said, “You could be going down.”
“Shit. What’re you pulling?”
Block smiled. “Times are changing, Crask. I been waiting for that to happen.” He looked up at me, smile malicious. “Me and Crask go way back. Same neighborhood. Same outfit in the Cantard, to start. We share a lot of memories.”
Crask stirred uneasily. The strain in Block’s voice said this was old business coming to a head. Crask’s confidence was less than complete. Things did seem to be changing. “You mess with me, Block, you’ll think a shit avalanche fell on you.”
“I doubt it. Like I said, times are changing. You’re running out of friends. I been waiting. The day I made captain, I had a special cell fixed up in the Al-Khar. I’m looking for an excuse to put you in it, hoping you make me break all your bones putting you there. I don’t know why it works out that way, but almost every prisoner who was on the Watch’s top-fifty-assholes list seems to end up committing suicide. Maybe it’s rough in there.” He winked at me, said, “Thanks, Garrett. I’d almost forgotten what I owe this butthead.”
At the same time, Crask put on his most menacing face. “You want to be dead, Garrett? You don’t mess with me like this and get out alive.”
“What do I have to lose? Weren’t you going to do me and the kingpin’s kid as soon as I found her?”
“Come on, Garrett!”
“You think I’m weak. By your standards. But do you really think I’m stupid?”
Crask was ready to skin people alive. My plan to drive him crazy had worked. Only . . .
One of Block’s men stepped up and bopped Crask from behind, whaling on his head with a stick that was cousin to my own. Crask didn’t go down first crack. The stick man stared at his tool for a moment, astonished. Then, before Crask regained his equilibrium, Block’s man whacked him half a dozen times real fast, making sure he got the effect he wanted.
Traffic on the steps cleared back. Funny. Not one soul thought of hollering for the Watch.
Block asked, “What do you think? Shall I put him away? Let Sadler shit a few bricks trying to figure what happened to him?”
“You’re not scared what they’ll do?”
“Not anymore.” Block smiled. Relway appeared. Though I had no solid reason to think so, I feared Relway was the most dangerous creature in this New Order Watch. “We’ll lock him up for a few days. Just so he’ll know what it can be like.”
The show moved away from me then.
I worried for Block. This could cause him big trouble. He might have a cell fixed up for Crask, but I couldn’t see Crask staying in it, no matter what Rupert planned. The kingpin had friends everywhere. Once Sadler learned about Crask’s predicament, heavyweight wheels would start turning.
Still . . .
I watched Relway.
Block was creating his own personal secret police force. Fast. Possibly with the best of intentions, but if he pulled many stunts like snatching Crask, he’d find himself riding a tiger.
I reported everything to the Dead Man. He was not pleased.
“You think I am, Chuckles?”
Captain Block has grown overconfident. His act is premature. His organization, however extensive, cannot challenge the syndicate even in transition. I cannot see his men remaining loyal through a crisis. Corruption has its own historical momentum.
“Historical momentum?” He starts using terms like that, it’s time to batten down. There’s about to be a big, sententious blow.
In the matter of Mr. Amato, his trepidation is understandable. Next time you see him, suggest he stop in and visit.
Just a down-home good old boy, my partner. I made a rude noise. I’d spent three days burrowing through centuries past, and he showed no interest whatsoever.
He could ignore with the best of them. In the matter of the sorcerers Candide and Drachir, it appears that we should contact appropriate experts.
“I consulted experts already, Smiley.”
Linguists and generalists. Both names excite vague resonances but no special memories. Before my time, I fear. My opinion is that Block should have saved his special cell for our special villain.
He was racketing around all over the place. “Probably. It’ll take a tough lockup to keep whoever’s wearing the curse.”
Till we get the appropriate wizards on the case.
Suddenly the Dead Man went shy. His tenor, tentative behind a display of confidence, baffled me, if only because I couldn’t conceive of any situation in which he ought to be hiding something from his senior partner.
In the matter of Miss Altmontigo . . . Pause like he was fixing to feed me a line of bull so feeble he couldn’t expect a moron to buy it . . . I had a visit from her stepfather. We enjoyed a turbulent session.
“I’ll bet.” You know how fathers get.
He had to face facts.
“Meaning somebody who considers himself my partner outstubborned somebody who knew he was on this earth for only three score and ten and saw time slipping away?”
Meaning that relentless bombardment with fact forced him to assume a cooperative stance.
“You got to him by dropping the Prince’s name.” He’s not so hard to figure.
Actually, the real clincher was my observation that he no longer has any legal hold on Miss Altmontigo’s person, only on her property.
I frowned. Each time he mentioned “Miss Altmontigo” he sort of stumbled. But I turned to his point.
For reasons unclear to me, Karentine property law assumes women don’t have the sense the gods gave a goose. The law gives husbands and fathers veto powers over all transfers—even where they have no other claim on money or property. I suppose that’s meant to save those silly girls from giving everything to cults and/or con men. Only a widow can execute contracts in her own name. I guess good sense rubs off in bed.
I suggested she might get around him on the property, of which she has a great deal, inherited via his maternal grandmother, who was something of a feminist activist. He manages the property at a handsome profit to himself.
He’d hung a lantern on the loophole. A woman of legal age can marry without permission. She could marry a dying (or dead) man who had no other heirs, making herself a quick widow. This doesn’t happen too often, but when it does and there is a fortune at stake, the cases become public entertainments. Witnesses sell their testimony to the highest bidder. You can guess about the lawyers. Everything not nailed down. It ain’t nailed down if they can get it loose with a prybar.
“You’re home.” Belinda invited herself in, rolled her eyes skyward. “That woman. She may work at Hullar’s, but she has no concept of the real world.”
I frowned a question at the Dead Man.
A juvenile female rivalry. Ignore it.
Sensible advice, maybe. Though not taking sides can be dangerous too, if they’re really wound up.
Belinda asked, “Did we make any headway today?”
I told her about my day. The Dead Man didn’t grouse about hearing it all again. Was my report on Drachir all that intriguing?
Belinda became preoccupied after I mentioned Crask. Twice I had to ask, “What’s with him?” before I got an explanation of the Dead Man’s funk.
“That friend of yours, the big one, came by.”
“Saucerhead?”
“Yes. He brought some news about the Cantard. I don’t think it was welcome. Excuse me.” Belinda didn’t like military stuff.
“Bad news, Smiley?” I asked. “Something you didn’t want to hear?”
Your Marines have recaptured Full Harbor.
“I told you it would be a different story.” I felt me a big surge of pride. They really do get you.
That is the least of it. Karenta has launched a general offensive on a shoestring and a prayer. Supported by morCartha auxiliaries, Karentine forces are attacking Venageti and republicans everywhere.
“Going to be a lot of regrets going out to the mothers of a lot of Karentine heroes, then.”
A great many more will go to Venageti and republican mothers. The morCartha appear to be serving both loyally and with efficiency. If they persist, they will devour Glory Mooncalled’s ability to gather superior intelligence, by harassing his scouts relentlessly. They are assuming all the traditional cavalry roles, including raiding and screening and holding. And they are doing it through the air, where neither Mooncalled nor the Venageti can touch them. They have wrested air supremacy from Mooncalled’s flying allies already.
“So?”
Do not be thick. It may mean the war is all but over, with Karenta the winner. Assuming the morCartha remain steadfast, we will witness a slaughter. Karentine troops will be in the right place at the right time in superior numbers, supported vigorously from aloft, every time.
“And?”
The end of Mooncalled’s dream may be the beginning of Karenta’s nightmare. Victory may be defeat. Our wiser leaders may have realized that long ago. That may be why the war dragged on. When the cost of victory exceeds that of continued warfare—
“Huh?” I was in one of my sharper states.
You have, on occasion, commented on conditions that could arise should all the soldiers come home.
“Oh. Sure.” After generations of warfare, the economy depends on continued conflict. Whole sectors are managed by nonhumans. Peace would bring on dislocations of vast magnitude, social stress, and strife. “Call it the war that’s lost by winning.”
Exactly.
“Have we done anything to steel ourselves?”
We are nonpolitical. Our services will be in demand always. Against fate, even the gods conspire in vain.
That sounded like a bowdlerized quote. I didn’t mention my suspicions. It does no good to call him on a theft. He’s shameless.
Belinda came back. “I’ve been thinking, Garrett. I need to see Captain Block.”
A scheme worthy of your father, Miss Contague. But poorly timed. I do not think I can urge this strongly enough. This is not the moment to challenge Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler. Their side of the ledger has all the pluses. And your few reliable friends are preoccupied with this traveling curse. Even so, let me suggest a few steps we might take when the time does come.
I groaned. When we take steps, I do the stepping.
They conversed. I waited, left out. Belinda was full of bounce when she left, having delivered a potent and promising thank-you kiss.
“What was she planning?”
Her scheme involved transporting me to Mr. Dotes’s establishment . . .
“Say what? The woman is mad!” I can’t move him to sweep around him, let alone push him out of the house.
There was a certain elegant evil in her plan, he sent, rather wistfully. He did not explain. We will explore elements of it in our free time these coming days. This will require visits from numerous outsiders. Apprise Dean.
Right. And have Dean blame it all on me even when it was obvious the whole thing was one of the Dead Man’s chuckleheaded schemes.
So there we were, fooling around closing out one of TunFaire’s worst-ever serial-killer deals, up to our ears in Watch and informants, and the Dead Man was trying to set up some scam to get Crask and Sadler off Belinda’s back. I got to play gofer. Grumbling gofer. When Block didn’t have anything better for me to do.
I must admit, though, that Miss Belinda Contague’s gratitude stretched the limits of imagination and, almost, those of endurance.
We had so many villains in and out, I lost count. Most weren’t your basic thug type, they were magistrates and military men and entrepreneurs and, yes, even Watch officers. Men whose vision defects had made Chodo powerful and them wealthier than they should have been. They all knew Belinda. Her birthday parties had been Chodo’s annual excuse for gathering them together.
They came. Belinda talked about Crask and Sadler and her dad while the Dead Man poked around inside their heads. Those who would line up against Belinda left with their thoughts scrambled so they’d forget having seen her.
Saucerhead and Morley and Morley’s men Puddle and Sarge hung around being insurance.
The Dead Man was sure Winchell wouldn’t go after Candy again even if we threw her out naked and gave him a big head start. Belinda offered to go dangle on the hook.
Came the night. This time I was determined to stick it out till it wrapped. Block and his all-thumbs boys weren’t going to screw it up again.
I wanted out. I’d done work enough for three cases. The only up side was, I hadn’t gotten pounded around, which happens too often in my line.
Hullar’s place was stuffed with picked Watchmen, most of them auxiliaries. More of the same were scattered around the neighborhood. The Tenderloin was lousy with law. The outside crew came and went, buying beer. We insiders bought more.
Hullar leaned against the bar, told me, “This asshole with the knife is going to make me rich, all you guys in here sucking it down. You really got to catch him?”
“We could let him do his stuff right there on your dance floor, let the mess draw the ghoul trade.”
“Touchy.”
“Can’t help it.” The hour was late. Tension was rising. The troops worked harder and harder to pretend they were ordinary slobs. I should’ve told them to lean back and take it easy. They were plenty ordinary and they had slob down pat.
“We shouldn’t be out here, Garrett.”
Hullar was right. Winchell might recognize me. Maybe the Watch was rubbing off on me instead of the other way around.
Belinda came to the back room where Hullar and Crunch and I were killing time drinking. She needed reassurance.
So did Crunch. He was put out. Relway had ousted him from behind the bar. “I could handle any whipper-snapper what went to bothering the girls, Hullar. No reason me being pushed off my job.”
“I’m sure you could, Crunch. But I’m not in charge.”
Crunch turned his glare on me. I said, “We’re talking about a psycho killer, Crunch. A total crazy. You don’t know him. The man behind the bar does.” I hoped Relway’s disguise would hold up. “If you were out there, he could walk in and cut your throat before you knew it was him. It’s for your safety.”
This had played before. I was tired of it. I gave Belinda a peck on the cheek, squeezed her hand. “Getting close. Hang in there. Break a leg. All that.”
“He should’ve made some kind of move already, Garrett.”
I was afraid she was right. Somebody should’ve come to check her out, maybe tried to pick her up. I was worried too.
An hour later the consensus had spread to the street. Something had gone wrong. Our fish hadn’t bitten. Somewhere a woman was dying because . . .
But no one gave up playing his part.
I was in the shadows, looking into the dance hall, when Sadler walked in. He looked incredibly evil. His expression grew more wicked as he spotted Belinda.
She was dancing with a Watchman disguised as a sailor. She spotted Sadler. Momentary fire touched her eyes. Sadler headed toward her. Once he passed a certain point, everyone in sight moved. He realized he’d walked into something. Fur started flying. Steel lashed the air. I stepped out to remind the boys that we weren’t killing people tonight.
Barking Dog Amato waltzed into the place.
There you go. We have us a rousing brawl going, everybody closing down a setup in which everybody had a specific role, including those of Hullar’s girls who’d stuck around to make it look good. We have maybe twenty people screaming and yelling. We have bodies flying everywhere. And in walks Barking Dog Amato looking for his daughter. He spots me instead. He ignores the uproar. “Hey, Garrett! This’s luck.” A Watchman flew past him, thrown by Sadler, who was in a truly foul temper. I tried to get to Barking Dog so I could move him somewhere a little less violent. He demanded, “Where’s my girl, Garrett? I come down here and come down here and hung out till I finally got me the nerve to talk to her, and when I do, I find out this Sas ain’t my baby at all. Her name’s Sasna Progel and all she knows about Lonie Amato is she’s heard Hullar and his dwarf henchman mention the name.” Another Watchman sailed by. “What’re you trying to pull?”
“We’re in the middle of something now. Could you maybe step over there out of the way and hang on a minute?”
Sadler roared my name like he’d decided I was the root of every evil he’d ever suffered. He charged.
“Better look out, Garrett,” Amato said. He headed for a corner. “That fellow don’t look too friendly.”
That fellow didn’t at that. He trampled Watchmen. Then he tripped over one. I planted a strong right on his temple. It put him on his knees but didn’t put him out. I threw a little of everything I had while he was getting up. He got up anyway.
I bruised some knuckles on my left hand. Then Sadler hit me back. I flew off to visit Barking Dog. Sadler came after me, ignoring all those other people giving him hell. It was like he was holding me personally responsible for his pain. He bent down to pick me up.
Barking Dog let him have it. Which was like a bee stinging an elephant if the bee don’t pick his spot. Barking Dog didn’t. But he did irritate Sadler enough that he decided to hammer Amato one.
Bishoff Hullar, strongman, popped Sadler with something that looked like a fist but couldn’t have been because Sadler folded right up. Hullar breathed on his knuckles, said, “We’re supposed to be looking out for a girl, not having us a good time, Garrett.” He pointed.
“I’ll be go to hell.”
Winchell had decided to drop in after all. There he was making his way to the bandstand, overlooked in all the excitement. “Hey, we got a party now.” Belinda eyed him uncertainly, wondering if he was the one she was supposed to fear.
The whole place went silent.
Winchell started moving fast.
I yelled.
Everybody joined in.
It was the battle of Sadler all over again, only Winchell was tougher. The curse had made him a superman. He got to Belinda, hoisted her onto one shoulder, headed for the door. When I tried to talk him into changing his ways, he deposited me on the back of my lap under a table. Nobody slowed him down till Crunch decided to take matters into his own hands, brought up a pony keg, and politely tossed it across the room to meet Winchell’s surprised face. The keg was full. Not bad for an old hairbag.
Winchell never got his eyes uncrossed. The boys from the street came in and helped close him down. They tied and gagged him, and most of the excitement was over. He looked small and old now, like the curse was turning him into the old green-eye who’d started it all at Morley’s.
Then Belinda was all over me.
Past her I saw Barking Dog buttonhole Hullar.
It was a while before the excitement faded. Block arrived. He circled Winchell smugly. I told him, “You let him get away again, I’m personally going to drop you in the river with a reminder boulder tied to your toe.”
“Relway. Get him sacked up and celled up. And don’t let that gag slip.” Winchell looked spooky enough with his eyes glowing. Grinning, Block bragged, “Won’t be no mistakes this time, Garrett. This’s our future here. We’re gonna be careful. We’re gonna wall him up in the cell I let Crask stew in. Prince Rupert is gonna send for the wizard help we need soon as he knows we got him.”
I grumbled, hinting that I might be less than confident about the competence of a certain prince and his Watch.
“You got any bright ideas?”
“Yeah. I got a real special one.”
“So?”
“I go hit the sack. You want anything else, come bug the Dead Man. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Belinda said. “Garrett’s going to have to get some sleep too.”
“Huh?” Us investigators have minds like steel traps. “Too?”
She winked. “I might let you catch a nap. If you’re a good boy.”
“Oh.” Block had gotten it before I did. I was suitably chastened.
Meantime, Barking Dog was in full cry. He had Hullar and Crunch both confused and on the run.
I was further chastened by fate’s unrelenting efforts to keep me chaste.
Winchell had had a strong suspicion he was headed into a trap. The curse had compelled him to go anyway but had permitted him some latitude in preparation. It was smart enough to allow its steed its head when that was appropriate.
I hit Macunado Street with visions of a wild night dancing in my head—and found my front door shattered. Dean lay in the hall about halfway dead, his stray curled inside the curve of what looked like a broken arm, crying. Belinda said, “I’ll look after Dean. You find out what happened.”
I opened wide but sensed nothing from the Dead Man. That scared me. Only once before had the villains gotten in, and then they’d gotten only a few feet. The Dead Man turned would-be intruders into living statues—usually while they were still in the street. Here there was no evidence he’d been able to do anything. The invader (or invaders) had hiked straight from the entrance to the stairs.
Had the Dead Man finally taken that long last step across to the other shore? I got no sense of his presence.
“Go on!” Belinda snapped.
“Be careful.” I edged forward, my heart in my throat. I’m not ashamed to admit I was scared. This had the same feel I recalled going into the worst raids we pulled back when I was one of Karenta’s brave young Marines. I crept along the wall to the Dead Man’s door, nudged it open.
I whirled inside, ready for anything.
Nobody there but my partner.
He looked unchanged, but there was a difference. I felt a tension unlike any I’d encountered before. I sensed that he was safe and awake but way too focused to spare me a thought.
Which meant the trouble was still in the house. And he was a nightmare.
Upstairs. He had to be upstairs. Candy was upstairs.
But we already had Winchell . . .
I felt for the Dead Man, seeking confirmation. He did not respond. Of course.
“Whoever did it is still here,” I told Belinda. “And he’s so strong he’s fought the Dead Man to a standstill. I think he’s after Candy. I’m going after him. But I’m afraid if I go upstairs he won’t be there. He’ll grab you and take off.”
“So check down here first.” She was calm and practical. Maybe it was hereditary.
“I guess Old Bones can hold out a few minutes more.”
“Nothing in here,” Belinda said, having entered the kitchen boldly. “And the cellar door is locked from this side.”
A shriek came from above, from Candy’s room in Candy’s voice. “Could be bait.” Something thumped the floor. It sounded like a body falling. Belinda grabbed my arm. I asked, “You reckon it’s a trap?”
“Garrett!”
“Right. This is no time to make light.” Tell me a better time.
I told me to pretend I was Morley Dotes. This might be a job that called for Morley’s legendary cool. If my honey didn’t just have a guy up to play . . . Morley’s cool. I was tempted to send out for it. Only . . .
Only what the hell was going on here? I did my part. I got Winchell sewn up and delivered. It was time to collect my reward and ride off into the sunset. What was all this mess?
My office was clean. I traded looks with Eleanor. That calmed me. It reminded me that I’d gotten through bad times before, that calm was my most potent weapon. “A little reason would help too, sweetheart.”
The small front room contained nothing but an odor cat haters know well. “You little shit. You blew it.”
I jammed my rain hat onto my head, set course for the kitchen. I banged around in there till I found the cheesecloth Dean bought the time he had a blue-sky idea about saving money by making his own cheese. I told him: did I want to cut financial corners, I’d do without a housekeeper. Anyway, to date we were out the cost of cheesecloth without no cheese to show. I hacked off a few yards, folded the cloth over my rain hat, and tucked the edges under my collar, front and back.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Beekeeper trick. You might want to try it yourself.”
“You’re insane, Garrett.” But she followed my example. She even made herself crude mittens.
I dug through drawers and poked into closets till I found my sulfur candles. “Try not to breathe the fumes once I light these things. They’ll knock you on your ass.”
Belinda shook her head, muttered obscenities, but went along. “You’re completely paranoid. You know that, don’t you?”
“I have been ever since I found out they were out to get me. Anyway, I couldn’t stand it if you was to get butchered now.”
“You’re a born romantic too.”
“That’s me. The man of a thousand faces.” All this was punctuated by repeated thumps and yells from above. Then the yelling stopped. The silence seemed particularly ominous.
“I think you better get on your horse, Garrett.”
“Yeah.” I checked Dean. He was doing as well as could be hoped. He had his hairball buddy to look out for him. I wished we had time to send out for reinforcements, but the silence upstairs told me I was all out of time. “White knight to the rescue. Well, it was white back before the rust set in.”
“Let’s do it, Garrett.”
No style, this one. But one hell of a set of legs.
“I knew it!” I moaned. “It had to be something impossible.” There were butterflies on the second floor. They were big and green and unpleasantly carnivorous but blessedly few and stupid. “Watch those things. I got a feeling if they nip at you it could spread the curse the way mosquitoes spread yellow fever.” People in TunFaire didn’t generally know that, but in the islands you learned from the natives. If you were smart enough to listen when they told you something.
“So light some candles.”
Belinda wasn’t exactly supportive. Pushy, even. It wasn’t time to light candles.
First I visited my goody closet, dug out a nasty knife, offered it to her. “Whoever he is comes near you, carve your initials on him with that.” For myself I chose a knife with a blade nearly long enough to qualify it as a shortsword. I used it to point toward Candy’s room.
I went first, macho clown that I am. And there was our interloper, a monster of a man, moving almost imperceptibly as he hoisted Candy toward the ceiling. He had rigged a block and tackle on a beam we’d exposed while rehabbing. He was ruled by the curse and he was going to do a girl on the spot.
“It really is multiplying,” Belinda whispered.
I kept my mouth shut. My throat was too dry for chatter.
The man kept moving against all the Dead Man’s power. What incredible strength the curse gave!
Why hadn’t Candy run out on him? With the Dead Man slowing him down, he couldn’t hardly keep up with her.
“Huh! Belinda. Don’t look this clown in the eye. I have a feeling that if he lays the green eye on you you’re a goner.”
“Right.” She wasn’t nervous. Not my gal Belinda. She was as cold as her daddy. “You want to do some candles before the bugs carry me off?” They tended to leak from the corners of the villain’s mouth.
I lighted a sulfur candle off the tallow candle Belinda had thought to bring, set it on the floor just inside the doorway to Candy’s room. As I set out the second candle, the bad boy realized he had company.
Gods, he was huge! He looked like Saucerhead Tharpe’s big brother. Where did Winchell find him? Nothing that big should have been running loose. He turned his head slowly.
“Why don’t you stick him, Garrett? You want to make a career of farting around, don’t you?”
I do. It’s because I have this hyperactive conscience. In this case it was also because I was completely lost. This wasn’t suppose to be happening. The girl-killer problem was supposed to have been solved at Hullar’s place. I was supposed to be in bed now, if not asleep.
The big guy had Candy hoisted up till only her head was touching the floor. He let go the rope. It squealed through the block. Down she crashed. She started making noises behind her gag like she was trying out my name.
I really hoped she wasn’t trying to relay a warning. I didn’t have time to fish it out of her. The big guy had begun to get him a case of the green eye. He was barfing butterflies. Most of those were green too. Old Drachir had had a thing about green.
The big man was aging before my eyes. He’d put on a year or two in the past few minutes. He’d gotten shorter, too, though I wasn’t ready to jump in for fifteen rounds.
He got a good look at Belinda.
He charged like he was headed into a hundred-mile-an-hour wind. He puffed and snorted. Moths leaked from his nostrils. They were pretty stupid moths—or the curse controlling them was pretty dumb. They mostly went after him.
I held a lighted sulfur candle in front of him. He roared out butterflies that couldn’t get me because of the cheesecloth. He didn’t seem to care, though. He had eyes only for Belinda.
“Don’t look the bastard in the eyes,” I reminded her, sliding to one side. I dropped to hands and knees, scooted forward while the villain continued his glacial charge. I cut the tendons behind his right knee and left ankle. It took a while for his brain to get the word, but he fell. Then he started to lift himself up again. I drove my knife through his right hand, pinning it to the floor.
Belinda did his other hand. “You might try to get a gag on him, Garrett.” She did have the Contague flair.
The cumulative pain and damage shocked the man enough that the curse slipped control. The Dead Man jumped on that. The villain became as rigid as stone.
Like a far, far whisper on a contrary wind, came, You took your sweet time.
I got Candy loose. “How come you keep fooling around with these perverts?” I asked. “What’s wrong with a nice straight guy like me?”
She threw her arms around me. She didn’t say anything, even when Belinda cracked, “Maybe she figured you were taken.” She just clung like she didn’t plan to let go during this lifetime.
Butterflies zoomed around drunkenly. The sulfur fumes were getting to me too. The bugs discovered bare areas on Candy. They called their friends. I didn’t know but what the curse could be carried by the little devils. “Let’s get out of here. Lock them in with the candles.” I considered sliding a few candles into the Dead Man’s room while he was preoccupied, just for effect.
Belinda helped with Candy, though with poor grace.
I glanced at my unwanted guest. Butterflies still crawled out of his open mouth. Belinda said, “We can’t leave him here.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll croak.”
“Ask me if I care.”
“Think, genius.”
Indeed. Boggle us with a first.
“You keep out of this.” I grunted, disgusted. If the villain died, I’d be the only place for the curse to migrate. I didn’t think that was such a great idea. “We do need to keep him unconscious. He might commit suicide.” I had a sudden conviction that the curse had driven Winchell into Hullar’s place to provide a diversion from the attack here.
The Dead Man sent, I can keep the man under control.
“Like you were doing when I got here?”
Bind him if that makes you more comfortable.
“Right.” I peeked inside Candy’s room. The big guy’s breath problem had improved. The floor was covered with fallen butterflies. Only a few showed any life. I said, “I’ve got an idea. Get the curse to jump to the Dead Man. Then it wouldn’t—”
“Then it would be able to talk to you direct.”
“Miss Practical.” I rounded up a ball of linen cord and went to work on our villain. I used it all, then gagged him good. Then I saved him from the fumes. I gave Belinda my nightstick. “Bop him if he even twitches.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get Block. To get this character out of here.”
I didn’t get that far. Not right away.
I might have known. I should have expected it. Hell, I should have counted on it. It had to be in the stars. It started out being about Barking Dog Amato, and no matter how I wriggled, Amato kept getting in the way. So why on earth should I have been surprised to find Barking Dog camped out in my hallway with Sas and Dean, Sas looking mightily distressed while Amato fussed over Dean and Dean groggily insisted there was nothing wrong. Dean was so woozy he didn’t know he was hurt.
“How do I get around this?” I muttered before anyone spotted me. At the moment I didn’t much care about Barking Dog’s troubles.
“Garrett!”
I’d been spotted. “Don’t start. I’ve got problems of my own and it’s going to be real hard to give a rat’s ass about whatever is bugging you.”
“Hey, yo, no problem. I kind of figured you’d be distracted when I saw this mess.”
“The curse managed to split somehow. I’ve got another killer upstairs.” Damn. That put a sparkle in his eye. What now? “I’m going to get Captain Block.”
“That’s all right. I understand. I’ll hang out here, keep an eye on things.”
“You don’t need to. Go on home. Get some shut-eye. The Dead Man can be pretty handy when he wants.”
I got a smug snicker from the other side of the wall and a denial from Amato. “I wouldn’t feel right, Garrett. After everything you done for me. Anyway, I got to talk to you about my girl. This here Sas ain’t my girl.”
So I’d gathered earlier. I didn’t stay around to find out anything more. I nurtured some small, vain hope that the Dead Man would pity me and run him off before I got back.
The only good thing about finding Block was I got to wake him up. Again. I never had a big case before where I got to wake other people up. It was always somebody coming around wanting me to be bright-eyed at some absurd hour of the morning.
“Yes!” I insisted, after getting through to his quarters. “You get off your fat political butt and come on over, you can see for yourself. The curse has spawned. You don’t grab this guy, it keeps right on going like we never met anybody called Winchell. I guarantee. You think I’m running around at this hour because I’m nursing a grudge? You know me better.”
Block grunted. “Unfortunately. You can’t just bring him in tomorrow?”
“I’m going home. When I get there I’m handing this guy over to whoever’s around. If that’s nobody, he walks. And I don’t have nothing more to do with unraveling curses by old-time lunatic wizards. You really want to give me a thrill, come up with some excuse for arresting Barking Dog Amato. Material witness, maybe. He’s set to drive me crazy.”
Block observed me under his brows briefly, maybe wondering if he ought to jump on such a great straight line. A nasty smile crawled around on his lips. I said, “Don’t go getting any ideas about doing something I’m going to regret.”
“Me? Forsooth. Maybe even more sooth than that. Echavar!” A servile type materialized as though he’d been lurking outside, just hoping Block would holler. “Inform Relway that I need a squad to accompany me when I arrest another curse carrier. Or, failing that, a leading public nuisance.”
I got the impression he wasn’t talking about Barking Dog.
Block didn’t recognize the man who’d invaded my place. Neither did his troops. After checking him over and taking statements from Candy and the Dead Man, Block grudgingly admitted, “It looks like you did the right thing, Garrett.”
“I always do the right thing.”
“Tell it to your smelly buddy downstairs.”
Barking Dog hadn’t gone home. The girl called Sas had, but only because Block’s men had pried her loose from Amato. Block and Barking Dog still weren’t wasting any love on one another.
Block and I observed while Relway and crew bagged my villain. Block asked, “You want me to vag him?”
“Say what?”
“Vag Amato. Oh. Sorry. You haven’t been in on discussions of the tools we’re getting to attack crime. Vagrancy laws. Relway’s idea. Came out of the research on those old wizards. Had those kinds of laws in imperial times. You can’t show you’re gainfully employed or have money in your pocket, bam! You got a sudden choice of getting into a cell or getting out of town. Amato would be had if we went after him. He never has had a job.”
“Don’t do that.” This was some scary shit. “Since when do you go around nailing people because one of your guys has an idea?”
“Since Rupert liked it so much he got it decreed as law. Applies to anybody inside the walls. Race don’t matter. There’s enough slack in the treaties to let us handle layabouts and social parasites as criminals—if we treat everybody the way we treat humans.” Nasty smile.
We might have us some unpleasant times ahead. I hadn’t a doubt that the law-and-order gang would deal with human undesirables more nastily than they would others.
“Meantime, my pals Crask and Sadler are out at the kingpin’s place scheming up some special way to pay me back for whatever they think I did.” That irked me. Block and his boys were panting with law and order, but Crask and Sadler had walked away because of their connections.
“Way it goes, Garrett. I could’ve let Relway deal with them, but you’da bitched about that too.”
“Huh?”
“Crask coulda hanged hisself while he was inside. Out of remorse, maybe.” He grinned. Remorse? That was a good one. ‘”Somebody coulda stuck Sadler tonight. But if that’d happened, you’da pissed and moaned until we was all ready to help you swallow a chicken bone.”
He was right. Morley was right. I really did have to hone me up a more practical set of ethics. It’s a proved fact, fanatic adherence to ideals can be fatal in the real world. Especially in TunFaire, where ethics and ideals are mystic words in a tongue unknown to ninety-nine percent of the population.
I admitted he was right, possibly. “But pretend I’m your conscience sometimes. Don’t get so eager taking back the streets that you forget why we have laws in the first place.”
“Thanks, Garrett. Any day now I figure to see you in a long gray robe, howling on the steps of the Chancery.”
I had to get away. He might brainwash me. I was that tired. He had me halfway gone already. That was scary, agreeing with the Watch about anything.
Going home wasn’t much improvement. I got rid of the worst of my uninvited guests, but then there was still Barking Dog. I wasn’t especially kind. “I’ve been awake more hours than I know how to count. During that time three different people tried to kill me.” Maybe I exaggerated. Who knows what might have happened had certain parties had their way? “They tried to kill friends of mine. The state I’m in, I’m not going to listen to much complaining. You got a bitch, bring it around in a few days.” I didn’t remind him that I wasn’t on his payroll and he had no bitch coming.
So much for restraint. My remarks won me all kinds of points with the ladies. Belinda opened her trick bag and discovered she had eleventeen varieties of hell she could give me for mistreating my elders. Candy got thoroughly huffy and completely forgot who’d just saved her delicate posterior. She took Barking Dog home and didn’t return.
She is his real daughter, the Dead Man told me.
“I figured that out. Didn’t even have to count on my fingers.”
It is a long story.
“Then don’t waste your time telling it. I’m going to bed.” I sped Belinda a meaningful look. It didn’t have any meaning for her. She fussed over Dean, who had set up in the small front room again. Things she told him suggested she wouldn’t be following through on earlier threats.
Her mother entered a liaison with a man Candy truly believed to be her father till quite recently.
“Must we? Now?” I eyed the front door. The door that wasn’t anymore. Could I trust the Dead Man to stay awake while I got some rest?
He indicated he could be trusted. Amidst his tear-jerker story, in which our beautiful young heroine overcame all obstacles to be reunited with her real father.
“Right, Chuckles. We all saw how she was just foaming at the mouth to be reunited.”
I figured she’d be sick of him in about two days. In fact, she already knew enough that she hadn’t wanted anything direct to do with him till tonight. Maybe never forever after once she got a look at the dump where he lived.
The Dead Man went on but I was stubborn. I shut him out. I shut out all their demands and went up to bed. During the several seconds it took me to fall asleep, I waxed nostalgic about the good old days when I lived alone and sometimes got to do things the way I wanted.
Dean let me in through the new door. His arm wasn’t broken after all, and our disaster hit the spot for a busybody like him. He’d had workmen in, and was nagging them green, as soon as the sun rose. When I’d been able to sleep through the end-of-the-world racket no longer, I’d gotten up and gotten out, pursuing the Dead Man’s suggestion that I double-check on Block and his boys.
“What they did,” I told the Dead Man when I got back, “was stuff them in cells while they were unconscious. Then they bricked up the doors. The cells don’t have windows. There’s a slot in the door so food can be passed through.”
That may be enough. Or a sewage chute . . .
I jumped in smugly. “All taken care of, Smiley. Taken care of. I noticed the business about the rope belts.”
The what?
“Rope belts. All our villains wore them. And then Winchell turned up at Hullar’s with his belt partly unbraided. The guy that tore up our place had on what looked like it was what was missing from Winchell’s rope. I knew what was happening, then. The rope carries the curse.”
You failed to mention that.
I snickered. “So I cheated a little so I wouldn’t get all the glory hogged away.”
What glory? There will be none for you. The public is going to believe that the triumph over the curse is all Captain Block’s fault. He will see to it.
Killjoy. “Block has the ropes locked up in a box stashed inside a sealed coffin in another bricked-up cell.”
The Dead Man remained dubious, given the ineptitude of the Watch. I was worried too. I concealed it. “Got some final translations on my research. I was right. The whole thing started over a woman. They even found me a portrait of Drachir . . . ”
Who was a ringer for the old man in the coach, I presume.
“Yeah.” You can’t hold out on a determined mind reader. “And he wore butterfly earrings.”
He had a strong interest in butterflies.
“Apparently.”
And a stronger interest in outliving his rival.
He was stealing my thunder. Here I’d come home chock-full of news and he was stealing it out of my head or he’d figured it out already. “Yeah. He’d figured out how to become immortal the hard way. When he set up the curse thing, he put an extra twist on it so the Candide woman, who’d spurned him, would be sure to get got. Then he let himself get killed. Didn’t matter to him. He would come back to life through his curse. Except his curse always gets stopped just before it finishes recreating the man who created it.”
You have to wonder about people like Drachir, who are willing to sacrifice hundreds on the off chance they might whip death for a while themselves. There are people out there, masquerading as human beings, who never see you and me as having any more value than a beetle. It’s a pity they aren’t content to devour each other.
I expected either prisoner to kill himself at the curse’s behest. The Dead Man disagreed. That would serve no purpose now. Suppose one of them did bite through the veins in his wrists? What then? Not even Block is stupid enough to enter the cell without a first-line wizard backing him up.
“Assuming any ever shows up.”
Indeed. They may never. They may never leave the Cantard.
“And meantime we got a corpse rotting. Someday somebody gets sick of the stink, opens the cell . . . ” The Dead Man had stopped listening. Vaguely, he admitted there might be something to my concern. But I’d made the mistake of nudging his thoughts toward the Cantard. Suddenly he was preoccupied by the south.
There’d been a flood of news. I’d been picking it up all morning, but he’d gotten a big dose from Saucerhead already. That was my buddy Tharpe, rush right in with anything newsworthy—if it was going to make Garrett’s life a little more miserable. I love the guy, but he doesn’t know from consequences. If brains were glazier’s putty, he couldn’t weatherproof a windowless room.
Word out of the Cantard made it look like we were in for a Karentine triumph. We could look forward to endless parades and countless mind-numbing speeches.
Karentine losses were as heavy as I’d predicted, but the morCartha had rewritten the Cantard equation completely. The Venageti were done for. They’d collapsed. Quarache was their northernmost outpost now. That was so far to the south, even our long-range commandos hadn’t reached it till recently.
And Glory Mooncalled’s republican armies, while still motivated and courageous, couldn’t overcome the combination of numbers, sorcery, and vastly superior intelligence now ranged against them. These days our commanders knew what the republicans planned before they started doing it.
Didn’t take any military genius to see that they’d soon be on the run and the morCartha would be employed to hunt them down.
Hardly anyone believed the news. Many didn’t want to believe it. But it was hard to deny evidence that said three generations of warfare would end within a year, that all-out peace might erupt at any time. And all because of some flying things that everybody considered vermin when they were visiting TunFaire.
Goes to show you, as Saucerhead says. You never know. A real philosopher of the street, Saucerhead Tharpe.
The future was becoming scary territory.
Belinda never got the Dead Man down to Morley’s place. She did manage to see all the underworld heavyweights and most of her father’s nominally legitimate associates. First thing I knew, she was headed home.
Crask and Sadler had slipped away from Chodo’s place. But they were still around somewhere, biding their time.
Candy faded from my life. She returned to the Hill, probably to escape Barking Dog, who was not welcome up there. Amato kept making a pest of himself, wanting things from me that were beyond my capacity to provide. I could not force open a door into a family that did not want to let him in. I could feel sorry for the guy, maybe, but not much more. I could continue delivering periodic reports to Hullar, without telling Barking Dog, so Candy could keep track. But I couldn’t give him what he thought he wanted. I wouldn’t give him Candy’s adopted family name.
Belinda sent a letter inviting me out. I rented a buggy from Playmate and dragged my bones out to see her. She knew me better than I thought. She waited till after playtime to roll her dad out.
Same old Chodo. Frisky as a wedge, alert as a potato. She was using him exactly the way Crask and Sadler had. I was repelled. I left as soon as I could without leaving anyone angry.
I was disappointed. Belinda was no better than the men she’d ousted. She’d become the new kingpin by climbing over her father’s still-warm flesh.
Must you? the Dead Man whined. I was about to doze off. About to abandon this vale of sorrow for the land of sweet dreams.
“Come on! That’s really laying it on thick.”
Report, then. Get it over. I need my sleep.
He couldn’t have been too depressed, regardless of the war situation. He didn’t threaten to close up shop for good.
I have suffered countless disappointments at the hands of your feckless race. One more will not nudge me over the edge. Get on with the report.
I described my visit to the Contague establishment. Most of it. Being a gentleman, I did employ some discretion.
Just to drive me crazy, he observed, It might be interesting to have Mr. Contague visit sometime. I suspect that all may not be what it seems there.
“What do you mean by . . . ? Hey!” He’d drifted off. At a very fast drift. And wasn’t interested in awaking to explain himself.
Leaving me hanging was the root of his plan, of course.
No more Belinda, no more Candy, and Tinnie still hadn’t come around to tell me I didn’t need to apologize for what I hadn’t done. “You and me again, lady,” I told Eleanor. ‘”Alone at last. Maybe. Fingers crossed?” The Dead Man was really working out on his napping, and there was a chance Dean would be getting back out of the house—for a while, anyway. One of his horde of ugly nieces had sold her soul or something and found a blind man to propose. Though I’m not religious, I was praying. No atheists on the battlefield. I wanted the engagement to take. I wanted Dean to travel to the wedding, which would take place out of town if it happened at all. I would get rid of the cat. I would burn a thousand sulfur candles. Or I might sell the place and contents and disappear before the one woke up and the other returned. Simplify my life. Move across town and change my name and get me an honest job.
I did learn that I have the second sight. My prophecy was correct. The next fad was revolution. It stumbled out of the cafes and failed abysmally. Peopled by the very young, the revolution neither asked nor accepted anything from the old and experienced and wise. Westman Block and his secret police, directed by Relway Sencer, ate them alive. The rebellion collapsed without having stirred any dust. Afterward, Block bragged that five members of the seven-man Joint Revolutionary Direction had been Relway’s agents.
Need any more convincing that those fools were fools of the first water? In the real world Block had to pay me to save his bacon when he ran into real troubles.
He hasn’t been around lately. Happily. Word is, a whole cabal of wizards has agreed to research and unravel the Candide Curse (how come it isn’t called the Drachir Curse?) and keep their eyes on one another so nobody gets any advantage from the spell. Just as soon as they catch Glory Mooncalled.
Might be a while.
The Dead Man’s hero hasn’t given up. Neither the morCartha overhead nor the Venageti proposal of an armistice has daunted him.
Life was good. Life was normal. I could sit back and do some serious thinking and beer tasting.
Then Morley’s nephew Spud showed up with the parrot. Supposedly a present from my leg-breaker friend. The parrot could talk. Morley figured I could use it to drive Dean crazy and get rid of his cat. The bird hated cats. It swooped on them, clawed at their ears and eyes.
Word of advice. Word to the wise. Voice of experience. Don’t ever bring a talking parrot within thinking range of a dead Loghyr. Not ever.