60
Distracted, I’d let the spooks slide out of awareness. Now I noted that all the nearer shapeless glimmers were moving in on the Windwalker.
Curious.
The woman said something so softly I couldn’t catch it. Barate Algarda didn’t seem concerned. ‘‘Your partner being what he is, I’m sure you know the situation in our household. Try not to let your prejudices get in the way.’’
What the hell did that mean? I started to ask. His expression stopped me. We weren’t going to talk about it. Over my dead body, if necessary.
I’ve had plenty of practice not judging my clients. The people I have to work with, or for! ‘‘I can do that.’’
‘‘Good. We understand that Kevans is involved in . . .’’ He lost focus. A ghost had captured his attention. The Windwalker fixed on that same apparition. A pseudopod of shimmer reached toward her.
The Windwalker looked up at Barate Algarda with a big, glowing smile. She eased over against him, slipped an arm around his waist, hugged. He responded in kind.
They saw the same thing. And it made them happy.
The Windwalker shed a decade, or more, becoming the adolescent I’d thought I saw when she showed up. She could give Belle Chimes lessons. She bounced with youthful excitement. Algarda grinned, pleased. She extended her hand to the ghost. Algarda reached out, too.
For more than a minute father and daughter looked as content and happy as two human beings can be.
Their happiness conjured its object ever more clearly. The ghost assumed a form that I could make out, a woman who looked a lot like the Windwalker.
I struggled to disbelieve. I couldn’t let them pull me into their fantasy.
Work stopped. Everyone stared at the odd couple and their ghost, which had acquired substance. It joined hands with Algarda and his daughter. Those two acted like they had hold of something real.
Talking to myself, I muttered something about it might just be possible that my own personal freelance necromancer ought to commence to begin to explain what the hell was going on. Unfortunately, Belle Chimes was too far away to hear me croak.
Weirdness squared. The Algardas had themselves a happy ghost. Unlike all us morally upright twits who ran away from what our secret hearts conjured.
All right. They’d called up his wife and her mother. For both it was a reunion so sweet they welcomed the world to join them.
As their special ghost gained life and definition, the other shimmers faded.
Their ghost began to lose color. In a single minute it diminished till it was just another misty shimmer.
Neither Algarda nor his daughter seemed disappointed. The woman, in fact, had come to life. She was attentive and interested but had nothing to say.
Algarda said, ‘‘That was intriguing. Kevans really was involved in raising these create-your-own-specter things?’’
‘‘Presumably. If you visited my partner you should know as much as I do. Or more. He doesn’t share his speculations with me.’’
Algarda told me what they knew. That didn’t include the compliance device.
I explained what I was up to today. My goal being to get construction back on schedule. Said schedule having suffered ferociously because of the Faction.
Unintended consequences.
I didn’t mention the compliance device, either. We had excitement enough.
The Windwalker touched Algarda’s arm. He bent so she could whisper. Was she crippled by shyness? That would make her unique. Hill people aren’t bashful. Most have ego enough for a clutch of kings.
I filed her timidity under ‘‘Be wary!’’
There would be a lot of power there. Otherwise, she’d never have been invited into the senior caste.
I wasn’t yet clear on what made a Windwalker special. I did know that what you don’t know can kill you quicker than the devil you go to bed with every night.
Algarda said, ‘‘Having unskilled people down there might be counterproductive.’’
‘‘Meaning?’’
‘‘You sent dwarves down.’’
‘‘I did. To explore. Not to do anything else. Except get rid of any giant bugs they run into. Seemed like the sort of work dwarves are made for.’’
‘‘Underground? Indeed. But what damage are they likely to do? In their ignorance and arrogance.’’
‘‘We’re all going to do some damage. In our ignorance. Because nobody knows what’s down there. Which is why some people accustomed to living underground are doing the poking around.’’
‘‘My point, sir. We don’t know. Best guess would be, the thing down there is just stirring in its sleep.’’
‘‘Sure.’’ My sources all agreed.
‘‘So suppose you wake it all the way up? And it’s as cranky as you are when they make you roll out before you’re ready.’’
Who had been poking around inside whose head, back at the house? ‘‘I’m open to suggestions. Remembering that my job is to get this place slapped together with as little trouble as I can manage.’’
New trouble, however, had arrived already. In the form of that frail blonde. All work had stopped. The roofers had come inside to check her out. Most of the men didn’t pretend to do anything but drool.
‘‘Hang on a minute.’’ I moved over to Belle Chimes. Another stricken zombie. ‘‘Bill, wake up. Pull your eyes in. Pass this word. She’s off the Hill. Out of the inner circle.’’ I didn’t know that but it sounded good. And it for sure got his attention. He got those eyes they say are big as saucers. ‘‘Goes by Furious Tide of Light.’’ All making the point that she was someone you didn’t want to irritate. Which Belle seemed to have gotten in spades. He flat-out turned scared.
Interesting.
The effect was salutary once Belle started whispering. Though the workmen did not deny themselves the occasional hungry look.
Saucerhead proved himself smarter than he looked. ‘‘I got a fire going in the shack now, Garrett. You might take these folks out there. Be easier on everybody.’’
61
We decided that Barate Algarda and his daughter should follow the trail blazed by Rocky and the dwarves. They would go poke around the Faction clubhouse. They would evict the dwarves unless Rindt Grinblatt could show that he had done something especially useful.
They headed for the abandoned house, needing no guide. I stood around enjoying the fact that the snowfall consisted of fat, random globs that were not accumulating. If this kept up I shouldn’t have to do any shoveling.
Most excellent.
‘‘You have no idea how lucky you are,’’ Morley Dotes told me. As I considered Furious Tide of Light through the aforementioned random flakes.
‘‘Sir?’’
‘‘If Tinnie saw you come out of that shack, with that woman, with that look on your face . . .’’
‘‘That woman, with her father right there?’’
‘‘You honestly think that would make a difference?’’
‘‘Maybe.’’ If a brace of nuns had been in there, too. ‘‘She’s growing up. We both are.’’ Me whistling past the graveyard.
He gazed the direction I did. ‘‘Pity I’m single. Pity you’re not.’’
He must not have gotten the word. ‘‘You know who she is?’’
‘‘I’m sure you’re going to scare me off by telling me.’’
‘‘She goes by Furious Tide of Light.’’
It took a second. People off the Hill seldom cross his path as objects of amorous intent.
Him turning off the interest was like a lantern damping down. ‘‘You had to tell me.’’
‘‘You’re my bestest pal. I don’t want to see you turned into a big old hairy-ass hoppy toad.’’
‘‘You had to tell me. So. Why is a Hill-type bundle of heat getting heads-together with you?’’
‘‘She has a daughter. A teenager. One of the kids whose experiments blessed us with the giant bugs.’’ There weren’t any of those around right then. ‘‘She wants to make sure the kid is covered.’’