The little old man shuffled over. ‘‘Who you looking for?’’
‘‘Belle Chimes. Friend of mine says he can give me advice about D’Guni racing.’’
He frowned. ‘‘Here’s some, now. Don’t do it.’’ Hard to tell about that frown, though, looking downhill into that nest of wrinkles. ‘‘Who told you to see him about the bug races?’’
I didn’t want to give Morley up. But his name might be the password.
A freelance sorcerer might have a different name for every shill he had referring trade. ‘‘Morley Dotes. I don’t know where he got the name.’’
‘‘Who was you supposed to talk to when you got here?’’ I told him what Morley told me.
The old man took a deep breath, stuck one shaky old hand back over the bar. The barman brought a brown briar walking stick up from somewhere down below. The old man took it. ‘‘Let’s walk, boy.’’
‘‘All right.’’ I held the door for him, going out to the street.
The old man got more spry as soon as the door closed. He headed for the World. Not exactly smoking fast, but without the shuffle. ‘‘Talk to me about money, boy.’’
‘‘Some could end up coming your way.’’
‘‘No shit. I’ll retire to my own vineyard on the slopes of Mount Kramas.’’ He referenced the mythical mountain where the grapes are so perfect only the gods themselves are allowed to drink what comes of letting their juice rot.
My doubts about the man’s credentials as a sorcerer faded before we got to the World. When we arrived he was twenty years younger and four inches taller. And moved with corresponding ease and grace. And was miffed because I didn’t ooh and aah over his transformation.
I’d run into masters of illusion before. Hell, I’m halfway engaged to one particular redheaded mistress of illusion.
Tinnie got into the mix because she and Alyx Weider’s girl gang had turned up while I was off recruiting. Alyx and Heather were harassing poor Manvil Gilbey.
My new friend became ten years younger, fast, while making little purring sounds of appreciation. ‘‘There might be a perk or two here, after all.’’
‘‘Just stay away from the redhead.’’
‘‘Dangerous?’’
‘‘And taken.’’
39
I told Gilbey, ‘‘There’re some ragged potato sacks over there. One of the dead guys was using them to keep warm.’’
‘‘Figuring on swapping them out for that coat? Where did you get that thing?’’
‘‘No. I thought you might help me stuff Alyx into one.’’
‘‘I’m about ready.’’ Gilbey was out of patience with Alyx.
I couldn’t figure what her problem was. She was a long step past the usual. Maybe she was trying to impress old Belle. Now insisting on being called Bill.
Poor Alyx. Bill wrote her off two minutes after they met. Beauty can take a girl just so far—especially if she’s only one of a posse of smoking-hot females and the rest all come equipped with manners.
Bill went to work. Or so he said. He ambled on inside the World.
I cut my sweetie out of the pack. ‘‘How come you guys are down here? And how come you’re all the time running with this bunch instead of being over at the manufactory busting that sweet patootie to make me rich?’’
‘‘Why, Mr. Garrett! I do declare! You say the most romantical things. You in your fancy coat. You who could be over there making your own self rich.’’
‘‘I just can’t help being romantic when I’m around you. My brain turns to mush. I drool. And the most absurd things—’’
‘‘Quit while you’re ahead, Malsquando.’’ Referring to a legendary lover of ages past. He’d even seduced the queen. And her daughter. And her son, according to some. The king hadn’t been pleased. It’s not a good idea to piss off the king if you haven’t seduced him, too.
‘‘I quit.’’ I’m no fast learner with some of this stuff. But pain is a fine teaching tool. Tinnie has been plying that one for a long time. She’s almost got me broken in.
‘‘Come here, Malsquando.’’
Good little doggie, I heeled and trotted after.
She turned on me as soon as we were safe from eyewitnesses.
I didn’t even have to apologize for something I didn’t know I did.
I came up for air about ten years later, panting and speaking in tongues. But feeling a certain pride of workmanship. My favorite redhead was thoroughly disheveled and fighting for breath herself. She gasped, ‘‘So where have you been lately?’’
I’m so smart. I have skills I haven’t even used yet. I made dead sure nothing left my mouth that even remotely sounded like words. Words are treacherous. They could clump together to offer some silly notion about me having been in exile because of the quirks of somebody who wore her hair big, long, and criminally red.
When you’re the guy in the couple that includes one of those women, you’re right there at the end of the rainbow. But you pay for it. You’re always in the wrong.
‘‘Will you kids quit snogging long enough to get something accomplished, here?’’
Manvil Gilbey had found us. And was not happy to see us preoccupied by trivia.
Heather Soames was right behind Gilbey. And looked like she envied us our distraction.
Manvil told me, ‘‘If you can drag yourself away, Bill is back. He says he needs to talk to you. He seems rattled.’’
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound like anything I wanted to hear.
Bill had reacquired most of the years he’d shed coming over from the Busted Dick. He radiated grim seriousness. He reached up and took me by the elbow, eased me away from the crowd. I steeled myself for a sales pitch.
‘‘What’s the story, Bill? And how much is it going to cost me?’’
Naturally suspicious right down to my brittle little toe-nails, I even wondered if Bill might not be the one haunting the World. Just to provide himself some employment. Which wasn’t rational thinking.
He said, ‘‘My profession brings out the cynic in clients like no other. They come crawling, desperate because they don’t know where to turn. But then they can’t trust me to do what they need to have done.’’
Had he been following me around, making notes?
‘‘So, tell me the horrid news, Bill. How much special equipment and how many specialist sorcerers from the underground economy am I gonna need to deal with this?’’
‘‘Your cynicism spring is wound too tight, boy. Hear me out before you decide you’re being scammed.’’
I have been known to accept good advice when I hear it. ‘‘My lips are sealed. For the moment.’’
‘‘Excellent. Here goes. There’s something down there.’’ He wagged a finger. ‘‘Uh-uh. You’ll learn more with your mouth shut.’’
More good advice. Given me on a regular basis by various associates. Especially the big guy at home. I’ll get it someday. ‘‘Go.’’
‘‘Excellent. Again. There’s something down there. It’s big. It’s alien. And it’s ugly. It’s still a long way from being wide awake. It considers the world its nightmare. Your bug makers disturbed it. The bugs are still disturbing it. Bugs that it may have helped dream. Yes. There are a lot of bugs down there. Thousands. Still. Probably feeding on the thing. Something beyond my knowledge. Or maybe anyone else’s.’’
Oh no! Hang on! This time was supposed to be simple. Deal with some bugs. Stop some sabotage. A couple days of easy work for a bucketful of gold.
‘‘How would that tie into ghosts?’’
‘‘Susceptible minds might think they saw ghosts if their obsessions reflected off the dreams of the thing down below.’’
I grasped what he meant because I live with a dead Loghyr. I didn’t like it. Nor did he convince me, really. ‘‘Any idea what it is?’’
‘‘No. But there’s precedent for ancient horrors wakening.’’
‘‘Of course. Suggestions?’’
‘‘Keep people away. Find experts. Do research. Look through ancient records.’’
I sighed as vistas of work expanded before me.