Gilded Latten Bones gp-13 Read online

  "What? Why not?"

  "Because that thing might be back and maybe has a shape-shifter side to it. Which guarantees some high adventure." He turned away, handed out assignments to his escort. Those men began to hurry off.

  The Director noticed me standing there with my thumb in my ear. "Why the hell are you still here, Garrett?"

  I headed for the house. It was uphill all the way. Not steeply but enough to taunt my flabby muscles. The Director's men snapped up their first victim as I climbed the steps.

  Shouting and threatening attended the process. The captive considered himself exempt from the attentions of the Civil Guard. Relway disagreed. An application of nightsticks ended the argument.

  The Dead Man felt so smug about it that I could feel it in the street.

  But once I got inside: Double lock it, then see Dean about salt.

  That was off the wall. "All right." I headed for the kitchen, where I found a disgruntled old man making supper for twice the usual crowd, with the added burden of two meals having to be suitable for consumption by invalids. He sucked it up and didn't complain so I didn't remind him how easy he had it, overall.

  I expect he liked it better when Singe was the only one he had to feed and fool.

  "Salt," I said.

  "Yes?"

  "Do we have any? His Nibs said see you about salt. I'm seeing you. He must have let you know. Damn! That smells good."

  Something in the pan had me drooling.

  "I have two pounds and a pinch. I picked up some last week."

  "And I have some they gave me at the place where we stayed before." I thought I knew what Old Bones wanted done. He gave me a confirmatory nudge.

  52

  I ate. The main course was pork chops, for him and me. Singe and Dollar Dan Justice, in with Morley for the night, got sausages and that ratfolk favorite, stewed apples. I snagged a dollop of apples for myself. Dean makes them good. For Morley and Playmate it was chicken soup.

  I hoped Playmate's brother-in-law didn't destroy Play's business while he was away.

  We all forgot the Windwalker. At first. Old Bones nudged me.

  I hustled up and let her know it was all right to come down. The outsiders were gone and we were having supper. Downstairs, Singe let her know it was all right for her to go home. Nobody would notice her leaving. I wondered if she thought the watchers had been stricken blind.

  Singe's whiskers twitched in a way that said she was irritated-probably because she didn't like something she was getting from the Dead Man.

  The Windwalker stayed close, which meant she crowded into the kitchen with me and Dean. She donned her vulnerable guise and conquered Dean immediately. In a soft, breathless voice she told me, "I don't think your associate likes me."

  "My associate is scared of you."

  "Why?"

  "She thinks she knows me better than anybody but me. She thinks I'll get infatuated, will lose my sense of proportion, will grab the short end of something, and mess up everything for all of us."

  Garrett. Really.

  I meant it. That would be Singe's thinking, in essence.

  "She might be jealous."

  "That's possible, too."

  "Are you infatuated?"

  "Not quite. Definitely intrigued and valiantly trying to fight it."

  She smiled slightly. Maybe wistfully.

  "Don't you do whatever it is you do that makes every man in sight turn into a drooling wannabe love slave."

  "I'll be all business. You'll see. You won't even know I'm a girl."

  Yeah. Right. And then the pigs will come home to roost.

  It would be impossible for most men and some women to ignore her sex in her presence even when she didn't want to be noticed.

  I thought about letting her know that the Dead Man thought well of her, decided against it. She did not need to be reminded of his existence.

  Dean poured fresh tea. We sipped. I said, "Singe was right about this being a good time to slip away unnoticed."

  "I don't want to."

  "Fine. Then you can help with the salt."

  "The salt?"

  "The thing that keeps trying to get in shows some characteristics of slugs or snails. Slugs and snails don't do well when they run into salt."

  Furious Tide of Light was the victim of a sheltered childhood. She had no idea.

  I told her, "They melt when you put salt on them."

  "Gross!" But, seconds later, her attitude brightened. "I'll help with the salt."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  "Talk about what?"

  "Why you were so down after you followed that thing home. But now you're not."

  "I don't think so."

  She really believed in that metal hairnet her daughter had invented.

  It does work, some.

  "I'm done here. Dean, you outdid yourself."

  "Not really. You've been eating inferior cooking."

  Ouch! He wasn't going to turn on Tinnie, too, was he? He'd always been a booster. Though, to be perfectly accurate, the redhead was not much of a cook. With her looks that hadn't been a skill she'd needed to develop.

  "Salt," I said. "Time to do it. Dean?"

  Thunk! A cloth sack landed in front of me. "Save as much as you can."

  "I'll use my own before I break into this. Promise."

  53

  The front door was easy. I opened up. The Windwalker sprinkled salt along the sill plate. I shut the door carefully. We would have to redo that one because of traffic. For now it should stay shut till Dollar Dan and the cleaning ladies traded places.

  We did the back door next. That got almost no use. Likewise, the transom and one barred window that let light in during the day. That was the only window left on the ground floor. The others had gotten bricked up during the heyday of lawlessness.

  Then down we went into the dank of the cellar, me with the lantern, the Windwalker lugging the salt. The steps groaned under my weight. They needed replacing. They had begun to rot. I said, "This is nasty."

  "Only if you're not a spider."

  She had that right. Spiderwebs and cobwebs hung everywhere. They covered the surface of the foundation stone. There was dampness on that stone, too. The air was thick. Our passage stirred dust despite the damp. The floor, nominally tamped earth, was one cup of water short of becoming pure mud.

  The door to the outside was in worse shape than the steps. I said, "Be generous with that stuff down here. Yuck! This is nasty! I can't imagine why Singe hasn't had it cleaned out and fixed up."

  Singe didn't think about those parts of the house she didn't visit, that was all. She was conscious of appearances and utility but not maintenance. She would overlook the cellar till the house fell into it.

  Once we emerged from the underworld I let her know. She looked me over, sniffed, said, "Definitely. Morley is awake."

  "Ten minutes. We still need to get the upstairs windows. And I need to get this gunk off me."

  I returned to the kitchen for tea. The Windwalker wasn't there anymore. "Where'd she go, Dean?"

  He pointed up. "She went to clean up."

  "It's really nasty down there."

  "I like this one, Mr. Garrett."

  "What?" I wasn't paying attention because I'd noticed that salt had been laid down along the bottom of the door to the cellar.

  "This woman. I like her a lot."

  "You do? What about Tinnie?"

  "I like Tinnie a lot, too. Tinnie is entertaining and challenging. Because she's always there, there's never been a question if she is the best woman to be there. With this one, though. . I'm relaxed and comfortable, despite what she is. I don't worry if she'll start barking about something I have no idea. . You do see what I mean?"

  I did. Still, I was flabbergasted. A great word, that. I didn't get to use it often enough. Flabbergasted. From a root word meaning he ate too many beans.

  Dean had been a booster of Tinnie Tate since the day he finally accepted the fact that he wou
ld never hook me up with one of his homely nieces.

  Did I need to get nervous? In no time, with no apparent effort, Furious Tide of Light had conquered Dean and the Dead Man both. It had taken Old Bones an age to accept Tinnie. If the Windwalker seduced Singe, I was in it deep.

  "Dean, she is remarkable. Like you say, easy to be around. She just naturally seems to belong. But you have to remember what she is and the people she runs with. And I don't even know her real name. She's still just the Windwalker, or Furious Tide of Light."

  "That might be cumbersome, socially, if you're making introductions, especially in your circles. But it won't be a problem much longer."

  "Huh?" Caution: Giant Intellect at Work.

  The Windwalker's shy little girl voice piped, "My name is Strafa. Strafa Algarda." She moved very close as she came for tea of her own. She bumped me gently, at the hip. I was pretty sure she'd overheard everything.

  Dean grinned almost lecherously. He'd never done that with Tinnie. He'd always been frowns and disapproval when he thought we might be playing grown-ups.

  I was in it now, definitely and deeply, riding it without reins or a saddle, at a gallop, straight into one of those narrow places every man hates to go: a time of decision.

  How could I get out of this without somebody getting mangled?

  The Dead Man was amused in the extreme. He didn't have the imagination I did. He couldn't picture a future where the Tate clan hunted me down and staked me out on a termite mound. Or where one of the top dozen operators in a city renown for black-hearted and cruel sorcerers had a bone to pick with a man who done her wrong.

  Do not become hysterical.

  And I couldn't respond because we were still pretending that he couldn't read the Wind. . Strafa's mind.

  I wished I could get in there and look around myself. I had questions. Chuckles hadn't given me much, yet. Too, I wanted to know what he learned from that thing in the street. He should have given me that a long time ago, unless it was too scary for somebody as young as me. And, as long as I was feeling left out, how about what he had gotten out of my best pal?

  On cue, sourpuss Singe stuck her head into the kitchen. "You said ten minutes an hour ago, Garrett. He's fading now."

  "I've told you a million times not to exaggerate. It hasn't been anywhere near an hour."

  "The point remains. You are ignoring your most important task while you indulge in flirtation."

  What was this? My cheeks got hot!

  I headed for the cold well, grabbed a pitcher.

  Singe took it away. "I'll handle that. You go see Morley."

  54

  They had him propped up in a chair. He wore clean clothes. Belinda must have had those brought by. He was fading when I arrived, but he brightened some. "They're promising me a real bath soon."

  "Be like heaven on earth."

  Strafa had followed me. Morley's eyebrows rose. The hunter light sparked in his eyes. He tried on his girl-killer smile, then looked at me, curious. His face collapsed into a mild frown.

  "Morley, this is Strafa. She's helping find out what happened to you. Strafa, this is Morley Dotes, purported restaurateur and genuine crime victim."

  Would he recognize her?

  "Pleased to meet you, ma'am." He had made that fast a read.

  More politely than seemed plausible considering her feelings, Singe eased the Windwalker aside so she could deliver my pitcher. Then she herded Strafa somewhere else.

  Dotes asked, "Something special there?"

  "Might be."

  "Uhm." He asked none of the questions my conscience primed me to expect. "Interesting."

  "Frightening. I'm getting lost. This shouldn't happen to me. I'm a big boy, I'm a good boy, and I've been in the same place a long time. The place I've always ended back at since way back when we went to the Cantard to fight vampires. But now this. And I don't know her that well."

  "It happens, Garrett. How well did you know Maya? Or Eleanor? Eleanor wasn't even alive. And what about Belinda?"

  "Belinda was the other way around. I was mostly trying to keep from getting my throat cut."

  He didn't call me on that, probably because he didn't want to talk about Belinda. "Not to worry. You being you, you'll mess it up out of some compulsion to do what you think is the right thing. You'll end up back where you started even if it isn't what you want."

  Not what I needed to hear. "Let's talk about you."

  "My favorite topic, but why? Hasn't the Dead Man drained me dry?"

  "No. He says you've got a brain like a rock."

  "What can I say? When he's right, he's right. If I had the brains of two rocks I wouldn't be in this condition."

  "You starting to remember things?"

  "No."

  "Really?"

  "Truly. It's like whole weeks have been cut out of my memory. I have a vague recollection of waking up in a bed somewhere with you and Bell hovering. Or was that. .? Now that's getting murky."

  "That could've been four different women. Belinda had you hidden upstairs at a classy hook shop."

  "Yeah? That's murk. Before that, though, it's all a dark place. Not just vague but a big black obsidian chunk of nothing. Then murk before that. I know I was walking. Not sneaking but being unobtrusive. I don't think I was following anybody. I don't know where I was coming from. Something caught me from behind."

  Morley, taken by surprise? Wow.

  He jumped as though pricked. His eyes lost focus. He started speaking fluent incoherent.

  Old Bones was feeling benevolent. He filled my head with Morley's recollections of what had set him off.

  There was a woman, vague, becoming clearer as she approached. She was tall and slim and wore black leather. She moved with natural sensual arrogance. Her hair was big and almost old lady gray. She was far from old, though. She might be just starting her twenties. Her mouth was small but her lips puffed a bit. They were an intense red.

  Those lips held the only stark color in the picture.

  The vision faded. Morley's mind slipped into the murk, then plunged into the obsidian oblivion.

  I collected myself. "I didn't recognize her."

  Old Bones fed the vision back to Morley, who said, "Me neither. And I wouldn't forget those lips."

  The one task I gave Jon Salvation, because he was desperate to be included, was to recruit an artist unafraid to work with me. Once we develop portraits we may be able to make identifications.

  "Portraits? Plural?"

  General Block has generously agreed to lend us Jimmy Two Steps.

  Singe proved she was being included by calling from her office, "Why hire an artist? Let Penny do it. She has the talent and the materials. She lives close by and she could get started right now."

  She is also insanely timid around Garrett.

  "I will promise her to defend whatever virtue she pretends to have left."

  Oh, catty!

  Singe had a problem with Penny Dreadful, too? This was news to me.

  Of course, after being away so long, everything was news to me.

  "Do both," I suggested. "At least once. We'll see if two different artists see the same thing. And, while we're borrowing the King's property, why not take a look at Butch and his brother?"

  I tendered that request. It came too late. The younger man was released because he cooperated fully. The other received a minimal sentence to the aqueduct project.

  Then, Oho! This could be interesting. Singe, please stand by at the door.

  55

  My heart jumped into my throat. There was only one person this could be. Despite all my thought, I wasn't ready.

  So while I headed into panic mode, the Windwalker contributed by coming down to see what was going on.

  The amusement exuded by the Dead Man was overwhelming.

  Singe opened the door. Kolda came in. "Hey, Garrett, I think I found remedies for both your friends."

  "Good on you, Brother Kolda. Tell me about it." My relief was so huge I wa
s about to pee my pants.

  More amusement.

  Kolda produced a half dozen small bottles. "These brown ones are for your poisoned friend. The one with the green stopper will help his memory. The one with the red stopper will work on the poison. The one with the clear stopper will make him piss. A lot. He'll want a lot of water. Let him drink as much as he wants. It'll flush his body out. The blue bottles are for your sick friend. I wrote the instructions out so you don't have to remember them."

  Kolda was pleased with himself. I would have to give him some strokes. He had done good.

  Singe was still standing by the door. I said, "You want to take these instructions? I'll lose them just going down the hall."

  "Put the paper on my desk. I'm busy." She began sliding bolts back.

  I panicked all over again. And with no more need. When I shambled back from putting the medicines and instructions on Singe's desk, with the latter carefully weighted down by the former, I found Kolda pressed back against the far wall of the hall, completely rattled. DeeDee, Crush, and Miss Tea filled the hall with bounce, beauty, and chatter. DeeDee was in a blood sport mood. She had Kolda picked for the weakest game on the plain and thought he needed tormenting.

  I blurted, "What are you three doing here?" Ever the boy with the golden tongue. "I'm glad I made a good impression, but. ."

  Miss Tea moved into my personal space. I cringed back into Singe's office. She chucked me under the chin. "We have the evening off. We couldn't stay away."

  Crush came in close, too, but she was just looking past me.

  Strafa Algarda descended the stair again, drawn by the hubbub. She began to glower. Likewise, Singe, from the doorway end of the hallway. I said, "Morley is in the room on the left, right there."

  "Thank you."

  Crush asked, "This is where you live? You must do pretty good."

  "I was lucky on a couple of jobs. And I work with people who are the best at what they do."

  Singe kept scowling. She was seriously irked about something.

  Crush looked at her, Kolda now getting his breath and color back, and the Windwalker. She saw something I didn't. She said, "I see books. Can I look?"