Rhafi was back in seconds with an actual bag. It was made of that silvery stuff we had found right after Kip was taken.
I said, "Just start throwing in all the little odds and ends and knicknacks. Keep your back to us when you do. And stay between whatever you're bagging and our friend." I wasn't quite sure why I was giving him those instructions but it sure seemed like the right thing to do. And Rhafi was a good boy who did exactly what he was told.
I told Playmate, "Kayne maybe did her best job with this one."
"Don't be fooled," he whispered. "You're on him at a good time. He can be more trouble than the other two put together."
I jerked my head toward our captive. "Does this guy talk?"
"I expect so. He's been getting by by pretending to be human. Can't manage that without saying something sometime."
A touch of tension seemed to have developed in the elf. He wasn't pleased with Rhafi's activities.
"Good job, Rhafi," I said. "When that bag is full I want you to take it downstairs and leave it in the street." It shouldn't take more than a few minutes for the contents to disappear forever, whether or not anyone could figure out any use for the trinkets.
I watched the elf closely. So did Playmate. This would be the time when he would try something. If he was going to do so.
The gray elf's strange Y-shaped nostril opened wide. Air whistled inside. The nostril closed. The elf s skinny little mouth began to work, though no sounds came forth.
The elf exhaled, then drew a second deep breath. I got the notion he'd tried something he hadn't expected to work and had been disappointed by the results.
The elf spoke. "Mr. Garrett. Mr. Wheeler."
Who the hell was Mr. Wheeler?
Oh. I'd never known Playmate by any other name, except once upon a time when I'd told everybody his name was Sweetheart, just to confuse things if they decided to go looking for him.
Playmate shook his head and pointed at Rhafi. Three different fathers. Well. I hadn't thought about the kid's patronymic. Or even that Kayne might have used it if she wasn't married to the man. But she had been, hadn't she? As I recalled Playmate explaining it.
Meantime, my new pseudoelven buddy was going on, "I believe that we may be able to help one another." His Karentine was flawless, upper-class, but more like a loud, metallic whisper than a normal voice. It took me a moment to realize that that was because he wasn't really using a voice.
More legs on the millipedal mystery. Every intelligent creature I've ever met had a voice. Even the Dead Man did, back when he was still alive.
"Who are you?" I asked. "What are you?"
"Policeman? One who tracks and captures evildoers and delivers them to the justiciars? Do you have that concept?"
"Sure. Only in these parts it's track and catch lawbreakers, not evildoers. Big difference, here in TunFaire. Where are you from?"
He ignored my question, more or less. "The distinction, perhaps, is not always observed in my country, either, though there are those of us who refuse to bend in the wind."
Damn! I got me a gray-skinned Relway?
He continued, "Be that as it may, I have come to your country in search of two criminals. They have proven extremely elusive. And lately my search has been complicated by the arrival of other hunters, newly alerted to approximately where these two now can be found."
Damn. Wouldn't it be great to have the Dead Man listening in here? The guy's story was good, so far, though hard to follow because it was delivered in six- or eight-word puffs separated by long inhalations.
I was inclined to suspect that the creature normally communicated mind to mind, like the Dead Man.
I asked, "How can we help each other?"
"You wish to recover the boy, Cypres Prose, who has been taken captive by the recently arrived Masker elements. I wish to capture the two villains I was sent to apprehend. My superiors are growing impatient. I believe I may be able to locate the boy by locating the criminals holding him. I do not have the power to wrest him from the hands of his captors alone, however. Join me in doing that. Then get the boy to tell us where my criminals are hidden. Once I have them in hand I'll go away. Life here can return to normal."
"That's just about good enough to gobble up. Even if life here is never any normaler than it is right now. What do you think, Play? Are Lastyr and Noodiss desperate criminals?"
"I don't think they're any danger to Chodo Contague, based on the little I saw, but they never really acted like innocent men. Sounds like a workable swap. What are those two wanted for?"
"They are Brotherhood of Light. Their exact crimes are unknown to me. I do not need to know those to do my job."
I said, "If we're going to be partners we're going to have to call you something besides, ‘Hey, You!' You got a name of your own?"
He had to think about it. "As If, Unum Ydnik, Waterborn. Which I cannot explain so that you would understand. Call me Casey. I heard that name recently. I like the sound. And it will be easier for you."
In words my friend Winger might have used had she been around, this old boy was slicker than greased owl shit. He always had a good answer ready to go. Though I got no sense of insincerity from him. I was almost certainly less sincere than he was.
All the time we were talking Rhafi kept maneuvering back and forth, trying to reach the door with his sack of plunder. While trying to keep facing away from Casey and keeping me or Playmate in between.
I told him, "You can forget what I said, Rhafi. I think we're all going to work the same side."
The boy stayed behind Playmate while he said, "Kip won't give those guys up."
"Then maybe we'll just toss him back to the bad guys." I hadn't fallen in love with Cypres Prose during my brief exposure to the kid. I kept wondering what I was doing, not just dropping the whole thing. Doing a favor for a friend? I did owe for all those times when Playmate had done really big favors for me.
"Just leave the bag on the table, please," Casey told Rhafi. "I will return everything to its proper place. Mr. Garrett, when would you like to pursue this matter?"
"I'm going to take it as stipulated that you're the expert on the people holding Kip. How dangerous is that situation?" There was a time when I did a lot of work related to kidnappings and hostage holdings. Unless the villains belong to one of just a handful of professional gangs the victim's chances are slim. And they deteriorate with time.
"By the standards of your city those scoundrels are a waste of flesh. You people are more casually cruel to your own families and friends, without thought, than Maskers can be under full force of malice. The dangers enveloping Cypres Prose are almost entirely emotional and spiritual, perils of the soul your people almost entirely discount as irrelevant at best."
I could buy that. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Which was, probably, his point. "They aren't breaking his teeth or shoving hot needles under his nails?"
Casey managed to project an aura of horror so strong that it got me thinking about some of the other feelings I'd experienced since he'd shown up. "No. Nothing like that."
"Then, if he's in no immediate physical danger, I'm going home and getting something to eat. And maybe I'll take a nap." And then maybe I could dash over to Katie's and see what I could do to patch things up. Hoping her father wasn't home. Katie's father doesn't realize that she isn't twelve years old anymore. "And I'm sure Playmate is worried sick about his stable." Down deep Playmate has to know what monsters he's harboring.
Casey shuddered. He projected quietly controlled terror. He knew the truth.
I might like this guy after all. Even if I didn't trust him farther than I could throw the proverbial bull mammoth.