"Thank you."
"Questions, Garrett? I went to a good deal of trouble on Waldo's behalf. What will you need to know?"
"Anything. Everything. I want to know why she was killed and who ordered it done."
"I'm not omniscient, Garrett. I can't answer that sort of question. Though 1 can surmise—which may not stand scrutiny in the light of what you already know—why. She was about three months pregnant."
"What? That's impossible."
"The child would have been male had it seen the light of day."
"But she spent the last six months practically imprisoned in the house where she lived."
"There were no men in that house? Hers was a miraculous conception?"
I opened my mouth to protest but a question popped out instead. "Who was the father?"
"I'm no necromancer, Garrett. The name, if she knew it at all, expired with her."
"She knew. She wasn't the type who wouldn't." I'd begun to get angry all over again.
"You knew her? Waldo didn't. Nothing but her name and the fact that you sent her to him."
"I knew her. Not well, but I did."
"Tell me about her."
I talked. It eased the pain a little, bringing her to life in words. I finished. "Did you get anything out of that?"
"Only that you're working in a tight place. A storm-warden's family, yet. Did Waldo tell you that the assassins were ogre breeds?"
"Yes."
"A curse on the beasts. Waldo hurt them, but not nearly enough. I sent Shaggoth to find them. He caught nothing but graves. There was nothing on the bodies to betray them."
"I know. I saw them myself. Tell Shaggoth to watch his step in the woods. There's something out there that's bigger than he is."
"You're making a joke?"
"Sort of. A mammoth did sneak up on me while I was looking at those ogre bodies."
"A mammoth! Here in this day. A wonder for certain." She rose and went to a cabinet while I sipped tea. She said, "I've been considering your situation since Waldo left. It seemed—and does more so now that I know who she was—that the best help I could offer would be a few charms you might use to surprise the villains."
I looked at Amiranda's remains. "I appreciate that. I wonder why you'd commit yourself that way, though."
"For Waldo. For the woman. Maybe for your sake, laddie. Maybe for my own. Certainly for the sake of justice. Whatever, the deed was cruel and should be repaid in coin equally vicious. The man responsible should be ... But your tea is getting cold. I'll put another pot of water on to boil."
I got fresh tea, this time with fire-hardened flour briquets that must have been the scones mentioned earlier. I gave them a try. One should show one's hostess the utmost in courtesy, especially when she is a witch.
Shaggoth stuck his head in and grumbled something in dialect that sounded suspiciously like, "Where the hell did my scones go?" He gave me a narrow-eyed look when the witch replied.
"Don't you mind him," she told me. "He's just being playful."
Right. Like a mongoose teases a cobra.
She sat down and explained how I could use the tricks she'd prepared for me. When she finished, I thanked her and rose. "If you can get Shaggoth to help me without breaking any bones in his playfulness, I'll get out of your hair."
She looked scandalized at first, then just amused. "You've heard too many stories about witches, Garrett. You'll be safer here than out in the moonlight. Shaggoth is the least malign of those creatures who haven't yet emigrated. Consider the moon. Consider her ways."
Those who survive in this business develop an intuition for when to argue and when not to argue. Smart guys have figured out that you don't talk back to stormwardens, warlocks, sorcerers, and witches. The place for reservations is tucked neatly behind the teeth. "All right. Where do I bed down?"
"Here. By the fire. The nights get chilly in the woods."
I looked at what was left of Amiranda Crest.
"She doesn't get up and walk at midnight, Garrett. She's all through with that."
I have slept in the presence of corpses often enough, especially while I was in the Marines, but I've never liked it and never before had I had to share my quarters with a dead lover. That held no appeal at all.
"Shaggoth will waken you at first light and help you get her into your buggy."
I looked at the body and reflected that it would be along, hard road home. And once I got there I'd have to face the question of what to do with the cadaver.
"Good night, Mr. Garrett." The witch went around snuffing lights and collecting tea things, which she took to the kitchen. She started clattering around out there, leaving me to my own devices. I asked myself what the hell the point was of having nerve if I didn't use it, rounded up a small herd of pillows and cushions, and tried to convince myself they made a bed. I tossed a couple logs on the fire and lay down. I stared at the ceiling for a long time after the clatter in the kitchen died and the light went with it. The flicker of the fire kept making Amiranda appear to move there in the corner of my eye. I went over everything from the beginning, then went over it again. Somewhere there was some nagging little detail that, added to the maverick coin from the farm, had me feeling very suspicious about Junior again.
Sometimes intuition isn't intuition at all, but rather unconscious memory. I finally got it. The shoes Willa Dount had shown me first time I went up the Hill. Those shoes. They deserved a lot of thought from several angles. In the meantime, I had to rest. Tomorrow was going to be another in a series of long days.
______XX______
Breakfast with SHAGGOTH was an experience. He could eat. Three of him could lay waste to nations. No wonder the breed was so rare. If there were as many of them as there are of us, they would have to learn to eat rocks because there wouldn't be enough of anything else to go around.
He brought the buggy around front and put the horses into harness with an ease that awakened my envy. Those beasts trotted out docilely and cooperatively and stood there smirking because they knew I would be irked by their easy acquiescence.
Damn the whole equine tribe, anyway. The witch came out with a lunch she'd packed. I thanked her for that, for her hospitality, and for everything else. She ran through the instructions for using the spells she'd given me. Those instructions were as complicated and difficult to recall as instructions for dropping a rock. But specialists think the uninitiated incapable of falling without technical assistance.
I offered to pay for the help again. "Don't start up, Garrett. Let me do my little piece for justice in an unjust world. Somewhere out there, there is somebody with the soul of a crocodile. Somebody who ordered the murder of a pregnant woman. Find him. Balance the scales. If you don't think you can handle him alone—for whatever reason—come see me again."
She was quietly furious about Amiranda. And she hadn't even known the woman. It was curious that Amiranda could find so many allies by getting herself murdered. And a pity none of us had been around when she needed us most. Though Saucer head had done everything he could.
I didn't argue anymore. "I'll let you know how it comes out. Thanks for everything." I exchanged glares with the horses, putting on a good enough snarl to get my bluff in.
"Watch yourself, Garrett. You're playing with rough people."
"I know. But so are they."
"They probably know who you are and might know you're poking around. You don't know who they are."