I surveyed the vast lawns. Or pastures. They were pretty enough. One frazzled kid was trying to convince some sheep that they wanted to head back to their paddocks. "Everybody went? Even Marengo?" North English never included himself in The Call's public exercises. "What happened out there?" One area of lawn was torn up, as though cavalry had fought there. Maybe the livestock had been folkdancing.
Tama Montezuma frowned. "The cattle or sheep must have done it. Tollie has no help at all."
"Why did everybody go?"
"Marengo doesn't tell me everything. But he did say tonight will be a turning point for The Call and Karenta."
"It's a shame I missed him."
Miss Montezuma's gaze brushed Miss Tate. "Isn't it?"
My luck turns fantastic when there's no possibility of benefiting.
Tinnie kicked my ankle. I glanced at her. She had a flower petal in her hair.
The Goddamn Parrot snickered.
"So what do I do now?"
"'Come in. Have supper. I was about to start my own. Then I'll find you rooms. It's too late to go back to town. And you might not want to be there anyway. We could talk about why you came out. Maybe I can help."
I said, "Ouch!"
"Sorry." Miss Busyfeet took her heel off my big toe. "I'm so clumsy today." The Goddamn Parrot snickered again.
Who am I to argue with a beautiful woman?
She could've left her shoes off, though.
The Goddamn Parrot began to dance on my shoulder. He had not yet eaten today. He said something. It was just a mumble, garbled, along the usual lines but intelligible only to me.
I hoped.
The impact of the presence of two beautiful women must have weakened the spell binding his beak. Or we were too far away from the Dead Man for him to control that beak completely. Or His Nibs had become too distracted to stay on that job—or maybe he had turned routine buzzard management over to one of his less attentive subsidiary minds. None of those were very bright.
Certainly he would not have taken his attempt to mislead rightsist observers so far as to abandon completely his ability to spy on me. That would deprive him of so many opportunities to gather ammunition for future nag sessions.
Yes, Old Bones was still out there somewhere, playing his own hand, involved in some way, whatever appearance he tried to project. This case touched upon too many of his fascinations for his defection to be complete and real.
"You're so sweet," Tinnie said. She scratched the quacking feather duster's head. "How come you never say things like that, Garrett?"
Tama Montezuma offered me a dose of my own medicine. She raised one eyebrow and smiled a thin little smile that dared me to open my yap.
I took that dare. "Shut your beak, you perverted vulture." To the multitalented Miss Montezuma, I said, "Besides reporting in I hoped to do some research on shapeshifters."
She jumped. "Research? On shapeshifters? Here?" Ha! I'd blindsided her with that.
"The Royal Library referred me to The Call's Institute For Racial Purity. Which is supposed to have a library chock-full of books about nonhumans."
"Oh. That. I'm amazed any outsiders take it seriously. The books are piled all over the old dining hall. They keep collecting books without knowing what to do with them. They can't get anybody who knows anything to come out here. I suspect because they think a librarian should work out of conviction instead of for a salary."
"They" probably meant Marengo North English, well-known skinflint.
Tinnie said, "Sounds like a job for Garrett. He can read and everything."
"I'm no good at organizing." Which was why I hired Dean, way back when. The old boy started out part-time. Next thing I knew he'd moved in.
"You hungry?" Miss Montezuma asked.
"Famished," Tinnie chirped. I didn't doubt it. The woman could eat a whole roast pig and never gain an ounce.
I smiled over her shoulder, nodded. I didn't want Miss Montezuma thinking my friend did all my talking for me.
Tama was amused. "I'll take you past the library on our way to the kitchen. You can poke around there after we eat."
"Marengo won't mind?"
"Marengo isn't here."
"Doesn't seem to be anybody here." There was no sign of staff although Marengo's shanty dwarfed the Weider hovel. "Though how you can tell in all this gloom... " Hardly a candle was evident.
"There aren't any servants anymore," Miss Montezuma replied. "And we're frugal with all consumables. If we need light to work, we'd better get the job done in the daytime. Though I suppose I could find a lamp for you."
They just fall at my feet, willing to do anything.
"There aren't any windows in the old dinner hall."
The Goddamn Parrot snickered.
"You better do something about that sneeze, bird." I asked Miss Montezuma, "What's going on? They say Marengo is tight, but... "
"The Cause is a vampire. Its hunger never goes away. He has to cut back somewhere."
Did North English start out less rich than everybody thought? The impedimenta of great wealth seemed plentiful enough, if old and mostly threadbare. "At least he hasn't had to sell the candlesticks to make ends meet."
"Don't be cynical. Marengo believes he has a divine mission."
I doubted that, being a cynic. "What about Miss Tama Montezuma?"
"It doesn't matter what Miss Montezuma thinks. She's just Marengo's fancy woman."
"If I buy that, will you try to sell me maps to hoards of fairy gold? Bargain-priced?"
"I'm sure Miss Tate is far too alert and levelheaded to let me take advantage of you."
I didn't look at Miss Tate. I had a feeling Miss Tate would be hard at work restraining her redhead's temper. My smirk might overtilt the load.
"I'm curious," Tinnie said, reasonably enough. "If you have no servants, how do you eat?"
"I cook better than I do what I'm famous for."
Whew!
Miss Montezuma cooked very well indeed. With Tinnie and I following her instructions we collaborated in constructing a meal featuring a wild rabbit Tama claimed to have caught herself. "A woman of many talents," Tinnie observed.
"Yeah." I made a mental note to check Miss Montezuma's background. Street legend didn't dwell on her antecedents, which was unusual. Everybody loves a scandal.
74
During supper I was ordered to call Miss Montezuma Tama and learned that North English's place really was deserted.
The man from the gate was named Stucker. He avoided conversation with a passion. Tollie was a Montezuma-stricken fourteen-year-old who managed the livestock. There was a silent old man who had one eye and a hook for a right hand. Venable constituted security at The Pipes. Venable thought thunder lizards were the most wonderful things the gods ever created. He couldn't understand why they were unpopular. He could go on about them forever. He kept a pack of his own as pets and security associates. They would have the run of the estate tonight. Venable claimed his babies only ate strangers.
I suspected that, if you got yourself eaten, Venable's position would be that you couldn't possibly have been friendly.
An advantage of thunder lizards as guards is their stupidity. You can't bullshit them. But stupid is exploitable, too. They'll forget everything and go for the snack if you toss them something like, say, a squawking parrot with his wings clipped.
Tama discouraged table talk, though Venable wanted to bring me up-to-date on things to do with thunder lizard fandom. Tollie couldn't stand to look at Tinnie or do much more than croak if he tried to talk to Tama.
After supper we headed for the library. I insisted. Marengo might say no if we waited. His racist treasures might be damaged by eyetracks.
Long ago I learned that nobody wants to share information that looks like a resource.