‘‘Some Hill people got hurt bad at your place yesterday. Two dead, on scene. Another died right after. Two more could still go.’’
‘‘That’s bullshit. Link Dierber died. Shadowslinger and Schnook Avery had some broken bones. The other three maybe got a couple bruises apiece. You want me to be honest with you, you maybe oughta not bullshit me.’’
‘‘You—’’
‘‘Hold on. You guys want to run the world a whole new way. You want to make everybody responsible for their own behavior. Well, get your heads around that this time. Furious Tide of Light brought those people to the World. They were all family of the kids who created the bugs. I had nothing to do with them showing up. Neither did the ownership. If I’d known they were coming I would’ve tried to keep them away. They were sure to interfere with work. And they did. With all the tact their kind usually show. There was bad blood between one of them and one of my consultants. They were half brothers. They had an old feud none of those people would explain. I don’t think it matters, really. The feud caught fire. If I was you slugs I’d worry about Schnook Avery instead of harassing that harmless old fuzz ball, Garrett. Who had nothing to do with any of it.’’
Block responded, ‘‘Fact is, we can harass you as much as we want. Nobody will care. Hill folk, on the other hand . . .’’
‘‘I’ll care. A lot. One or two others might, too.’’
Prince Rupert made a calming gesture. Saying nothing. He was kind of a goofy-looking guy, tall and lean.
Block nodded. ‘‘No point in getting in a pissing contest because the man rubs me the wrong way.’’ That for the benefit of his audience. ‘‘Particularly since he’s connected with TunFaire’s top financiers, magnates, industrial doyens, and criminal masterminds.’’
Block made the point gently and obliquely but in a way that wouldn’t be misunderstood. Ma Garrett’s boy is tight with some major players. Who might take mortal offense for no reason a true blue blood would understand.
Senior folk at the social poles, like Relway and the prince, have to nurture the happiness of the stinking-rich merchant classes. They don’t like it. But they have to honor the power of the money.
Another face of the future.
I gained respect for Prince Rupert during the prolonged consultation. He said little. He listened. And he heard. When he did speak he avoided stupid with disarming ease, though he never had much to say. I found myself hoping he would have the misfortune to ascend the ladder of succession. Karentine monarchs are ephemeral, crowned and often murdered before we get used to seeing their profiles on the coinage. I didn’t know anyone I’d rather see cursed with the Crown.
Eventually, I asked, ‘‘Can you tell me the point to all this?’’ I gestured at the red top parade. ‘‘Why do those guys need to come gawk at me?’’
Prince Rupert was interested in my coat. The fifth time he asked about it, I said, ‘‘I’d give it to you if I had anything else to wear.’’ I sang the sad song of the demise of my own coat, thanks to the good Director. I added several verses about Mr. Jan taking forever to finish the replacement, thanks to the good Director.
The good Director ground his teeth.
Colonel Block took me to the exit personally. ‘‘You did good in there, Garrett. You didn’t let us rattle you. You even almost convinced me that you were telling the truth.’’
I had a creepy feeling that I’d survived some kind of test.
‘‘I was. There’s no reason to hide anything. Especially since the Hill people got involved.’’ There had been mention of those folks, off and on, but I’d gotten the impression that the prince didn’t care. He was more interested in the kids. And me. ‘‘Mr. Weider and I are better off having you know the truth. We might find ourselves needing the friendship of the Crown’s men. Besides, isn’t it every subject’s duty—’’
‘‘Don’t lay it on with a trowel, Garrett. Your cooperation has its boundaries.’’
Well, yeah. I’d withheld a few trivialities. But he didn’t need to know about John Stretch’s talents. And it wouldn’t do to mention an improbable dragon, of potentially sun-darkening magnitude, snoozing on a treasure way down deep beneath the World.
‘‘I look out for my clients. Sometimes having you in the know is what’s best.’’ He had to get that into his head. That was a truth as solid as stone.
‘‘Right.’’ He winked. ‘‘Stay warm out there, Garrett.’’
82
‘‘Hey, Garrett! Nice coat,’’ Saucerhead said when I slipped in through the front door at the World. ‘‘What kind of fur is that?’’
‘‘Beaver, I think.’’ It was obvious why Tharpe and his crew were huddled up inside. The ghosts weren’t active and it was almost warm. Water remained liquid. ‘‘Prince Rupert traded it to me for the one I’ve been wearing. The ghosts on a holiday?’’
Derisive laughter from all hands.
‘‘Truth, Head. He wanted it so he could get one like it made.’’ I needed to move on. But I couldn’t. ‘‘Relway had me dragged in. The Prince was at the Al-Khar. He saw that coat and fell in love.’’
I don’t know why I expected him to believe that. Dumb-ass street thieves made up better stories. ‘‘What’s been happening? Have you seen Playmate?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ Tharpe wanted to go on giving me a hard time, but he did take time out for business. ‘‘He came by. He brung them two black cases over there. He said tell you the ratpeople can’t make it today. Maybe tomorrow, if the weather is better.’’
I got busy with the cases, the little one first. It could win me friends.
I dragged out a heavy doeskin sack as Tharpe wound up to get back to my fabrications about an obviously stolen beaver coat.
The atmosphere changed. Saucerhead purred. ‘‘Garrett. My main man. What do you have in that sack, my brother?’’ He heard the music of the metal.
I showed him my precious metal trumps.
I had friends.
They stayed friends even after they hid their money in their purses and pockets.
I said, ‘‘It’s too warm in here, guys. Whatever you think.’’
Saucerhead said, ‘‘You keep trying to freeze the place out. How come?’’
I told him.
In moments it was obvious the dragon would go over worse than my beaver coat story. Had to be pure, unadulterated, nine ninety-nine fine, one ninety proof, Garrett-style bullshit. Which I shouldn’t have been retailing, anyway.
My ego kicked in. I started getting hot. Then I recalled an incident from boot camp, nine days in.
We’d had only a couple hours of sleep. The drill gods were breaking us down. They rolled us out for some pre-dawn recreation. I got my undershirt on backward in my haste to avoid being last man out, which would guarantee the descent of the wrath of Sergeant God. I didn’t yet understand that the wrath would find a way, no matter how hard I tried.
When my error was pointed out, in a friendly way, by a fellow recruit, I snapped. I insisted thatthis shirt was made that way and I had made no error.
I knew I was being stupid while I said it. But I couldn’t stop.
That haunted me the rest of boot camp. The guys never looked at me the same. I never regained their complete trust and respect. Luckily, I wasn’t posted to the same outfit when we went to the fleet.
The drill gods are all-seeing. All-knowing. And pretty wise.
I did good after that one stumble.
If I let the red beast grab hold of me here, these guys would look at me the way those guys in my training company had. They knew I wasn’t right. It wouldn’t matter if this shirt really was made that way.
‘‘You’re too smart for me. They thought I could sell it.’’ I named no names, nor revealed why ‘‘they’’ wanted the suggestion of a dragon planted. ‘‘Gods be damned!’’
‘‘Garrett? What?’’ Saucerhead looked like he was wondering if he ought to be scared. Garrett was acting weird today. Weirder.
‘‘I just realized. I got jobbed.’’