Which is no contradiction where the top-ranked sorcerers are involved.
You might, by a stretch, be able to say that Colonel Block and I are friends. Not thick and thin, hell and high water, blood brother friends but guys who like and respect one another, who are willing to lend a helping hand to one another, where it's possible to do so.
It was conceivable that Block was doing so at the moment, so that I wouldn't walk into something entirely blind. And so that, in return, he could tap me for a little information that would keep him in good odor with the people prodding him from behind.
I can do that for him. It's worked out for us in the past. The tricky part is keeping outsiders from forming the idea that we can get along.
Block observed, "You really are a big old barrel of nothing, aren't you... ? What the hell is that?"
The pixies out front had declared war. Possibly on themselves, they were so raucous.
They'd been silent since my return. So much so that I'd begun to suspect an evil influence at work.
"Pixies," I told Block. "I seem to have adopted a mob. Against my will. I'd better see what's got them excited." Inasmuch as the Dead Man didn't seem inclined to inform me.
I heaved out of my chair and headed up front. In the small front room the Goddamn Parrot was asleep already, muttering in his diabolical dreams. No doubt he had protested his recent utilization by making a mess Dean would nag me about for weeks.
Block followed me. Through the peephole I watched one of his escorts fling something upward. I said, "Your boys are tormenting my pixies."
"I'd better get them out of here before it gets out of hand, then. Don't hesitate to let me know if you learn anything useful."
"You wouldn't accidentally let slip which sorcerer types are interested in my problem, would you?"
"Not hardly. Not even if I knew. But I think you can safely assume that just about anybody up there would be interested in gaining the secrets of flight." He opened the door, went out growling. "What the devil do you men think you're doing?"
"They started it. They were throwing... "
Chunk! The door cut it off.
19
I returned to the Dead Man's room. "So how come we needed to chase Block and his pals away? And how the hell did the Goddamn Parrot get back in the house?"
Mr. Bic Gonlit is out there awaiting an opportunity to reclaim his magical boots. Colonel Block was unable to add anything more to our meager knowledge.
Miss Pular opened the door for Mister Big while you were napping.
"Did Block add anything to our meager knowledge?" I didn't like that business about Singe opening the door with nobody to back her up. Old Bones isn't always attentive to detail.
Only internal confirmation of most of what he told you. The people on the Hill have become exceptionally interested in unusual celestial events of late. In Block's mind they're convinced the flying objects represent a threat from foreign sorcerers. Although a minority believe that a rogue cabal of Karentine wizards are behind what has been happening, hoping to elbow the rest out of the inner circles of power. Whatever the truth, the root concern is those people's fear for their positions.
"Oh, they wouldn't like to lose their power, would they? Do I need to go out and catch Bic Gonlit?" Because I was bone-tired. I was ready to hit the sack, skipping the evening's last five or six mugs of beer.
Judging by your stunning success in that direction before, perhaps your ideal course would be to wait for him to come to you. He does seem to be extremely superstitious about his boots. They are a controlling factor in his life.
Singe came in from the kitchen carrying a tray. She'd hidden out there while Block was in the house. And she hadn't wasted her time. She'd made more sandwiches. And had drawn me a mug off the keg in the cold well.
I gave her a look at my raised eyebrow trick as I went to work on a sandwich. Her whiskers twitched and pulled back in the ratkind equivalent of turning pink.
"It's all right, Singe. You're welcome. Old Bones. I'm not going to be able to keep my eyes open much longer. If I get him in here can you handle the interview?"
His exasperation with mortal weakness became palpable. Get him in here. That is the key first step. Then you two can run off to bed whilst I labor...
Singe squeaked. Her whiskers went back so far it looked like they were about to pop out.
"He doesn't mean that, Singe. He just means sleep. You take the guest room on the third floor." She was familiar with it. She'd used it before. "I'll see if Block's gone."
He is. Though an observer remained behind and is seated on Mrs. Cardonlos' stoop, pretending to be drunk. He is about to fall asleep at his post.
I went to the front door certain that any sleepiness being experienced by Colonel Block's man had an artificial origin. Unlike my own.
Singe followed me. She carried a lamp. Its light silhouetted me when I opened the door.
Bic Gonlit arrived five minutes later. He was about as hangdog as it's possible for a man to look.
"Bic, old buddy," I said, "why'd you want to go and bring a bunch of ratpeople around to my place?"
"You still got my boots?"
"They're in a place of honor. But I'm going to burn them and scatter their ashes on the river if I don't hear some explanations."
"You don't have a reputation for being that hard, Garrett."
"You've got a rep as a bring them in alive kind of bounty hunter, Bic. So besides the answer to my ratpeople question—which I want to hear real soon now—I'd sure like to know why you're hanging around me. But where are my manners? Come on in. We don't want to do business out here. The Guard keeps a watch on me."
Gonlit jumped. He looked back nervously. He sure was a worried little man. And barefoot, too.
He slipped past me, taking one final troubled look back as he did so.
"Tell me about the rats, Bic."
He stared at Pular Singe. "Because there's a huge reward out for her. Reliance wants her bad. I thought I'd get my boots back during the confusion when Reliance's gang were grabbing her."
"Plus you'd've made a few marks," I said. "I appreciate your honesty. So I'm not going to hold a very big grudge. All you need to do is explain why you were hanging around in the alley out back and just had to slug me. We're going in here." I held the door to the Dead Man's room. Bic's boots were in there, sitting on the table next to Singe's sandwiches. But I had a feeling it would be a while before they enjoyed a loving reunion with Bic's feet. "Take a seat, brother."
"I just want my boots, Garrett."
"We all have dreams, Bic. Sometimes we have to give a little something to attain them. What about the alley?"
"What alley?"
"Now we're going to play tough?" Exasperated, I snapped, "The goddamn alley behind my house. Where you bushwhacked me and pounded me over the head with a sap."
Gonlit looked at me like I'd just sprouted antlers.
Garrett.
I jumped. So did Bic and Singe.
"Yeah?"
Bizarre as it may seem, the man really does have no idea what you are talking about. I now find myself examining the hypothesis that the Bic Gonlit you encountered in the alley was not the man who is here with us now. Either this man has a twin or what you ran into was the creature I sensed and set you to collect, somehow projecting an illusion based upon the expectations of Cypres Prose.