There was a problem, though. Trolls and dwarves are not an inert mix. No way could I send Rocky down to help Rindt Grinblatt. The Grinblatts would, almost certainly, attempt to test to destruction Rocky’s natural invulnerability.
‘‘Here’s what you do to start. John Stretch!’’ I beckoned the ratman. ‘‘John Stretch, this is Rocky. He’s going to go inside with you. He’ll handle any physical challenges that come up.’’ I told Rocky what we were up against and how he could protect the ratmen.
He said, ‘‘I hope it’s warmer inside there, Garrett. This cold really slows me down.’’
‘‘Warm won’t be a problem.’’ John Stretch’s people were complaining about the heat. And ratfolk like it hot.
Rocky went off with John Stretch.
Luther planted himself in front of me. Before he started, I said, ‘‘Work around them.’’
‘‘There’s ghosts already. They don’t usually come out this early.’’
‘‘We’re trying to deal with that. Remember, they’re harmless. They just manipulate your emotions.’’
‘‘Yeah. I know. But knowing and believing are two whole different buckets of monkey piss.’’
That was hard to argue. I’d seen it too often. Fear has its own logic. Too often, there isn’t a dread of physical harm driving it. ‘‘All right. If you must, take breaks. That’s all right. As long as I see everybody challenging their courage.’’ I leaned in, whispered, ‘‘We don’t want no ratmen making us look bad, do we?’’
During Snoots’ visit I’d gotten the notion that Luther didn’t disdain rightsist ideals.
Luther was surprised. For an instant. Then puzzled. Then satisfied enough to smile. ‘‘Right. Got you.’’
Which left me feeling unclean. But not a lot. That’s management. Tell them what they need to hear to get them through the day. Tomorrow can take care of itself.
I screwed up my courage, went inside to see how the ratfolk were doing. Wondering why Singe hadn’t come to stick her nose in.
The heat was amazing. I ordered every doorway propped open. Why hadn’t anybody done that? And there were vents up top, there to let the heat out when the World filled up with playgoers. Those were shut, too.
Might the thing down below be like a snake or thunder lizard? Or troll? Would a good chill slow it down?
The ratmen were staying out of the way of the workmen. Who weren’t being too unpleasant to them. John Stretch had set up down on the cellar level. That helped.
Ghosts wandered everywhere. At least a dozen of them, all just milky shimmers. The ratmen saw them but weren’t impressed. The tradesmen weren’t bothered, either. None coalesced into anything anyone found frightening. Too many minds, too many ghosts, too many distractions.
A lot of people doing a lot of stuff might just be the perfect workaround.
Luther, making a circuit of his troops, paused to shoot me a thumbs-up.
58
Morley Dotes invited himself in to tour the monster destined to be the talk of high society. My first hint of his presence was him saying, ‘‘I’m impressed, Garrett.’’
Startled, I stopped watching Rocky crunch bugs. The midget troll wasn’t fast but didn’t have to be. He’d found the hole that the biggest insects used to get into the cellar. He let them come to him. The rats had gone down by lesser ways and were driving the bugs toward him.
Morley twitched as I turned. A ghost had bumped him from behind. He looked back, didn’t see anything, but twitched again when the ghost touched him again.
Interesting. I hadn’t seen a ghost touch anyone before.
‘‘What the devil?’’ Morley said. ‘‘You have practical joke spells floating around in here?’’
‘‘No joke.’’ I explained. ‘‘You really don’t see anything?’’
‘‘No. But I feel it. It’s like being touched by cold, wet hands.’’ He twitched, turned quickly. Several times.
‘‘We need to get you out of here. You’re drawing them like you might be good to eat.’’ Six were in touching distance. The rest were drifting our way.
The Dead Man should find that interesting.
We ran into Belle Chimes at the door. He didn’t recognize Morley. Nor Morley, him, either. I didn’t bother with introductions. I told Bill my best friend seemed to attract ghosts but couldn’t see them.
‘‘He might be psychic,’’ Bill suggested. ‘‘Which would make him more obvious to them than the rest of you are.’’
‘‘Why can’t he see them?’’
Bill shrugged. ‘‘Garrett, I’m just a guy who lives over top of a third-rate bar.’’
«But …»
‘‘Not my field of expertise. What’s his problem?’’ He pointed.
I looked.
Morley hadn’t stopped twitching just because we’d gone outside.
‘‘The spooks came out with him. A couple of them.’’ By squinting, cocking my head, and looking slightly to one side, I could detect them. But they were fading. ‘‘Morley. Scoot your ass on across the street. See if they can stay with you.’’
My best pal said unflattering things. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t like it. But he did what I said.
‘‘Try getting into shadows,’’ I told him. ‘‘The spooks are easier to spot when they’re not in the light.’’
‘‘They’re gone.’’ He’d moved only a few steps into the street.
‘‘You sure? How do you know?’’
‘‘I know because there’s nobody painting me with cold porridge fingers anymore.’’ He came toward me, a step at a time. And defined the range of the spooks in seconds. ‘‘Three steps make all the difference.’’
I wasn’t happy. I’d just found out that the ghosts could come outside a good ten yards. Would their range increase again tomorrow?
About the time Saucerhead was set to christen his sudden new guard shack, we discovered that Morley’s escape marked a supernatural high water. The ghosts’ range dwindled fast, afterward. Possibly because of the chill winter air flooding the World.
John Stretch told me, ‘‘We do not like this cold. But the rats definitely like what it is doing to the bugs down under.’’
‘‘Good?’’
‘‘Good. This time we may get them all.’’
‘‘You’ll need to find their eggs,’’ Belle Chimes told us. ‘‘Otherwise they’ll just keep coming.’’
‘‘That’s true,’’ I said. And thought about the Grinblatts.
I’d heard nothing from the dwarves.
I worried. There should’ve been something, if only a ‘‘Screw you very much!’’ ‘‘Hey, Rocky. I’ve got a mission for you.’’
‘‘More fun than squashing bugs?’’ His outside was covered with insect insides.
‘‘I can’t tell you a lie. No. It could even turn unpleasant. I’ve got some dwarves that might’ve got themselves into a tight spot.’’
Troll faces aren’t especially expressive. But Rocky managed to betray his thoughts without saying that tight spots are right where dwarves belong. The tighter the better. A pine box, eight feet down, being ideal. Or maybe farther than that, just to be sure they didn’t claw their way out.
‘‘They love you, too. We’ll make it a compromise. You go check, see if they’re all right. That’s all you got to do. Just come back and tell me. Anything that needs doing I’ll take care of myself.’’
Rocky glowered. Volcanic rumbles started up inside him. Digestive distress? I hoped.
‘‘And all this will pay exactly the same as having fun. Right?’’
‘‘Exactly.’’ I wasn’t going to hand out a bonus because an employee did what he was told. ‘‘Come on.’’
I took Rocky to the abandoned house. I explained again. Rocky grunted, muttered something about if a man wanted a job done he ought to have the stones—snicker —to get in there and do it his own self.
He didn’t understand. I was management. Management don’t get its hands dirty. Management concentrates on making conflicting decisions and issuing orders with no obvious rationale behind them.
I’d make a fine manager. I had the example of my partner to emulate.
Rocky was gone long enough to get me worrying. But he did turn up eventually.
‘‘Your dwarves ain’t lost. You’re wasting your time worrying about them.’’