"I understand." All too well. Dean had brought in a covered birdcage containing one guest I hadn't wanted to invite. This one wouldn't be getting his own chair. And, if I could avoid it, the cover wouldn't be coming off his cage, either. He could be the Dead Man's proxy without participating in anything.
I remarked, "Your guys ran out on Winger at the stable the other day."
"And should've left an hour before they did. The woman is insufferable. And she keeps getting worse."
"She's got a problem with you that she was taking out on them?"
He didn't want to talk about it. So I asked, "You totally trust all your guys downstairs?"
"Of course."
I tilted my head toward Evas. "Colonel Block has some high-level friends who'd love to sink their talons into her. We took a coach over here so nobody would see her on the street."
"If you need to keep her secret, why risk having someone see her?"
"Her presence is an important ingredient for the success of my evening."
"She is a she, isn't she?"
"You'd better believe. Not extravagantly so, just to look at, but between us guys, don't let that fool you. Her public attitude, either. The ice does melt. In fact, it goes straight to steam. A touch of wine helps. So she has an excuse for making Katie seem repressed and distracted."
"You didn't. You know Tinnie will come with her uncle. She'll figure that out before she's all the way into the room."
The possibility had occurred to me. But the potential of the evening seemed worth risking Tinnie's wrath. I mean, that would come down on me sooner or later, anyway. It's like weather. Some days we're going to have some.
"She'll notice Kayne Prose and Cassie Doap long before she notices Evas."
"You didn't. You rogue."
"Rake's the word, I think. But don't go playing pot to my kettle, pal. It took a lot of arranging to get everybody here tonight. And I had to get away from the house for a while. At least none of them are married."
In general, Morley prefers women encumbered with husbands. Rich husbands are especially good. Their wives are much less likely to make demands he'd rather not meet. They have too much to lose. Besides, he's a married elf himself. So he claims. I've never met his wife. He hasn't seen her himself since he was a kid, supposedly. Or maybe she wasn't a wife, just a fiancée.
Arranged marriage. It's an elven thing. And an everybody else thing, sometimes. When substantial estates are involved.
I added, "The rules of our relationship, laid down explicitly by Tinnie herself, clearly state that neither of us has any right to demand anything of the other as long as the relationship remains informal. Which's the way she wants it kept."
"Garrett, you're thirty years old. Do you still believe in the tooth fairy, too?"
"I'd say there's a better chance of me running into the tooth fairy than there is of Tinnie actually living up to the letter of that."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
Morley left us in Puddle's care. He said he wanted to head downstairs so he could make sure my guests went the right direction when they arrived. Which probably meant he didn't want those lowlifes mixing with his class clientele.
I resisted the temptation to let the Goddamn Parrot get away.
Dean assumed his post, the seat to the left of what would be mine at the table head. He laid out paper, pens, and ink, and a couple of Kip's writing sticks. He'd try to record what got said accurately enough that there could be no arguments later. I was confident that others would do the same. I was just as confident that there'd be arguments over who said what and when later on. There's always somebody who insists the records are wrong.
Evas and Singe lurked behind the old man, both of them trying to read his notes as he made them. I wondered how much success they actually had.
It was scary how fast Singe was picking up the art. Writing was giving her trouble, though. Her body wasn't built to provide the necessary fine motor skills. I suspected she'd never manage anything but tedious block printing.
Even that would make her unique.
I separated Evas from Singe. "The man I was talking to was the one I told you about."
She showed an interest immediately. She'd reached the point where she was having trouble sustaining her public frost. She was obsessed. Which had been cute for a while but which had become disturbing once I found myself ambushed whenever I was alone.
I thanked the stars or fates that Fasfir had needed to try her wings just the one time. It had been sweet enough work keeping up with Evas.
I reminded her, "He'd be a better teacher than I am. Much better. Elves are known for their endurance." If you could believe a quarter of what this particular half-elf said about himself. "He's not bad looking, either. By our standards."
Near as I could read a silver elf's face, Evas seemed thoughtful.
I settled beside Dean. "All set?" He was studying one of Kip's writing sticks, looking dubious.
"I'm not sure I can do this anymore."
"If you can't get it word for word make sure you get the high points. Ah. Playmate's here."
As I moved that way, Singe sidled up. "What are you trying to do with Evas?"
"Nothing."
"Garrett."
"Just trying to help my best pal get a chance to experience an amazing phenomenon."
"I think you are up to something."
"Really? Look, I need to talk to Playmate." Playmate had Kip in tow but not Kip's mother or sister. Or Rhafi. Mustn't ever forget poor, invisible Rhafi.
Playmate looked exhausted. "It's getting to me, Garrett. Having the Guard watching the place all the time. Having them come around asking questions at all hours."
Even Kip seemed subdued. He hardly fidgeted. He made no effort to wander away from Playmate. He didn't insult anyone.
I asked, "Where are the rest of them?"
"I don't know if they're coming. Kayne said she was but I expected her to get here before we did."
"She has to come. We'll be on real thin legal ice if we put together a company where one of the partners isn't even old enough to draft. We need his mother here."
"I understand that. But you need to realize that Kayne's custodial status won't stand up if somebody big really challenges it. She's a woman. So she's pretty much handicapped when it comes to making contracts herself. If this turns into something involving really big money, you know the jackals are going to start gathering."
Playmate was right. Women who make a name and place for themselves have to do so against the ancient tide of the law. Kayne had the legal advantage of being a widow, had no living father, and neither son had reached his majority. Still, as Playmate said, add money to the mix and somebody would take legal action to become Kayne's legal guardian.
Playmate mused, "I'm worried that the father will turn up and stake a claim."
"I thought he was dead."
"No. He disappeared. He's presumed dead. Even if he is dead, somebody could claim to be him. It would be his word against Kayne's. A woman. Of questionable morals. The sorting out would give somebody plenty of time to do some mischief."
"People can't do much mischief if their legs are broken."
"It wouldn't be that simple."
"I hate people sometimes, Play. In times like these I have trouble convincing myself that Relway doesn't have the right idea about how to handle humanity's scum."
"Might not be your best simile, Garrett. The scum is what rises to the top. Well, somebody is here."
Somebody proved to be Max Weider and his beautiful daughter Alyx. Alyx was coifed and dressed to kill. Alyx loved every second of the attention she attracted. Manvil Gilbey and our first uninvited guest, Congo Greeve, straggled in behind, the bad and the ugly. Congo looked like he had broken out the special, formal occasions cranial wax. His eight-inch part glistened.