"Maybe he's honorary. Or he's a good actor. You never know about a guy who managed to survive the Cantard. He sure didn't stop to agonize over the morality of killing Lance even though ultimately it was a stupid thing to do."
"There is that. But people do do stupid things when they panic. What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. I don't want to but I'm going to try to get inside the movement. Maybe I can find some answers there. I want you to take care of these people. Whoever's been trying to hurt them isn't finished. He hasn't gotten whatever it is he wants."
"I'll keep this armband. I'll discuss it with Genord. You shouldn't know anything about the connection if you're going to get close to his friends."
Good point.
"And you might clean up a little. You'll do better if you're presentable. Consider stashing the wonder buzzard, too. Some of those people have fairly refined sensibilities."
"They even hate parrots?"
"They especially hate parrots with an attitude problem. You see what's happening on the streets. Call people don't believe in self-restraint. And the more they get away with the harder they push."
Worth remembering.
"You be careful what stories you tell about yourself, too," Block told me. "They'll know when you're stretching the truth."
"Uhm?"
"Relway isn't the only one watching you."
"Really? Shit!" I have my pride. And one thing I'm proud of is that I'm good at working a tail or detecting one set on me. I hadn't noticed anyone.
There aren't many guys that good.
I had a bad feeling. I asked Block. He told me, "I don't know how they're doing it. Relway hasn't figured it out yet, either. You know it's a trick he'd like to have in his bag."
I'll bet. "How bad is it?"
"Sometimes you have an entourage."
More agony for my bruised pride. Time for a subject change. "What do you know about the Institute for Racial Purity?"
"I've never heard of it. What's it supposed to be?"
I told him.
"Something else to check in my spare time. You be careful, Garrett."
"I'm not leaving yet." I was ready, though. But not for the place I had to go. I preferred a destination where the beds weren't stone, where I could sleep off my residual hangover without fear of interruption.
70
I plopped into a chair, told Max what I knew, what I was doing and thinking and suspecting. He was attentive. His anger burned hot enough to heat-treat steel. He didn't blame me for his pain, as a lesser man might have done.
I started awake as an arm snaked around my neck. A taut bottom began making itself comfortable in my lap. "Ulp!" I said.
The Goddamn Parrot chortled. He was watching from the chandelier.
The behind belonged to Tinnie Tate. She was in a snuggly mood. "You fell asleep. Mr. Weider said to leave you alone because you've been working so hard." She leaned back to let me see an expression saying she thought I had him fooled.
"And now?"
"Go home and get some rest?" She wiggled.
My head was so cluttered with sleep I missed her point. "I'll just find a spare room and grab a nap before I hit the road." Then, belatedly, the message soaked in. "On the other hand, there're some mysteries at home that need solving. If I have the help of an amenable assistant."
The Goddamn Parrot snickered.
I did need to be seen around there once in a while or some bad boy from the neighborhood would try his luck against the fear the Dead Man had woven so powerfully around our place.
Tinnie growled. She was tired. So was I. I said so. But, like everyone who didn't have to be somewhere else, I didn't want to abandon the dining room's relative security. Block had left several men on guard there. For what good their presence might do.
Alyx heard me talking. She decided to come over. "Want me to show you a safe place to nap, Garrett?" The devilment was back, if weakly. The stay-together-in-pairs rule remained in effect.
"No thanks." I winked.
Tinnie shifted to a less uncomfortable position. My reward for saying the right thing. She murmured, "How about I show you my guest room?"
"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."
71
Tinnie followed me to the Weider front door. She was dressed for travel in a peasant frock and sensible shoes. Stupid me, I asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Stupid me should have started discouraging her about an hour ago. Not that I could have gotten anything through all that red hair successfully.
"With you. You need somebody with you. That's the rule."
"I've got my talking feather duster."
"What good is he in a fight?"
"He squawks a lot and—"
"Be careful how you answer this one, Garrett."
Oh-oh. Time to make that extra effort. I had to remember my lines just right. Only I hadn't seen a copy of the playscript yet.
Redheads will do that to you.
So will blonds and brunettes and all the lovely ladies of every other hue.
"All right, then. You're in. That'll cure you of wanting in. Real quick." What could happen? I was just going to visit one of Karenta's most beloved subjects at his big, safe country estate.
I learned quickly that the countryside is still infested with country. It isn't my favorite part of the world. I prefer domesticated bugs, cockroaches and fleas and bedbugs. They don't get greedy if they bite at all. They don't rip off an arm and hang it in a tree to come back to later.
It was well-groomed out there, close to town, but still way too green. "You getting tired?" I asked Tinnie. She didn't look tired. She looked fresh, sexy, full of vitality and likely to be all of those still when I collapsed.
"You trying to get rid of me again?"
"Again? I never... " One foot starting to swing out over the abyss, I shut up.
Maybe I was learning.
"Oh, look!" Tinnie took off running, frisky as a fifteen-year-old. She leaped into a patch of cornflowers.
I told her, "The blue detracts from your eyes."
"I like them anyway. Yikes!" She jumped higher and farther than you would have believed possible for such a trim slip of a gel.
A tiny face peered up out of the flower patch. It belonged to a grinning miniature man. Or boy, actually. He was a pint-sized teen. His grin was humorless. It was a conditioned response to the presence of big people. He was terrified. The grin was supposed to buy time while he figured out what to do.
Flower stalks swayed behind him. I glimpsed brown-and-green homespun in motion, a flicker of golden hair tossing, tiny heels flying. Well. I chuckled. The Goddamn Parrot chuckled. I took Tinnie's hand, pulled. "Let the kids have their privacy."
"What? You mean?... "
"Yeah."
"Oh. Actually, that's not such a bad idea, Garrett. When you think about it."
I do that a lot. "Well, if you really... "
"All this fresh air is getting me giddy. There's a wonderful big patch of cornflowers over there in that pasture."
"Not to mention cows and horses."
"I didn't know any little people still lived outside the wall. Because of the thunder lizards. You're worried about a few cows?"
No. There were horses over there. Eventually they would recognize me.
But the company went to my head. "I didn't want you worrying about the livestock."
"If they bought bullshit by the pound, you'd be the richest man in TunFaire."
"I'll never be anything but a poor second," I replied. "While Morley Dotes is alive."
Tinnie hiked her skirts with one hand. She ducked between the rails of the split log fence. "I'm only giving in because you keep pressuring me." She showed me a couple of hundred taunting pearly whites.
This was my Tinnie. The argumentative evil twin her family doesn't see. Very often.