The Old Man turned the letter Mr. Nagit had given him, as though Marengo might have scribbled a secret postscript on its blank side. He saw only what I saw, which was the North English seal. "We'll do it, Manvil." He turned the letter again. Whatever North English's message, it made a difference; but it left his old friend Max puzzled. North English's word obviously was gold to Weider. "Clear the great hall again." Wan smile. "Let this young gentleman's friends help." That was a subtle dismissal of Nagit and Gilbey both.
"Will this work, Garrett?"
"I don't know. My record hasn't been outstanding lately."
"No. It hasn't. On the other hand, most of our troubles could've been avoided if we'd listened to you in the first place. I understand that you're handicapped by the head start I allowed evil. But who could believe that such things might happen?" The latter he directed toward himself.
"North English will send in freecorps people he trusts. I assume you trust him. But, even so, I intend to bring in friends of my own."
"Whatever you think of the man, Garrett, he's my friend."
I confessed, "I do see him through different eyes. I'll also bring in some Guards people that Colonel Block trusts. Everybody can watch everybody. It'll be like party night at the pickpockets' hall."
Wan smile. "You missed the funerals."
"You had them already?" Of course he had. It was summertime.
"This morning. Early."
"I'm sorry. Nobody told me. I would've been there."
"No matter. You were doing the work of the Lord. I hope."
Max wasn't demonstratively religious but he did belong to one of the old-time hellfire and brimstone, rip off an arm for a finger and a head for an eye type of cults. Because of Hannah's incapacity he'd gradually lost interest in the workaday details of brewing the world's best beers. He remained the grand lord of the brewery with the final say about everything but he had abandoned the detail management to Ty and the brewmasters. I feared Hannah's passing might cause him to turn away from the business altogether and possibly even from life.
"Vengeance is mine."
"Can you pull it together by tomorrow?"
"I can." But I'd be one tired boy when I was done.
"Good. You'd better get started."
Now I was being dismissed.
As I opened the study door, Max said, "Lose the uniform, Garrett. If you're going to be roaming around alone, you don't want to ask for more trouble."
Max was right.
The comings and goings of freecorps messengers got noticed. The news spread at the speed of rumor. Tension soon filled the streets. Tempers grew shorter fast.
I had arrangements of my own to make. I couldn't use Nagit's men or brewery hands to complete them.
My proud destrier and I put on the miles.
I visited The Palms. Morley told me he could make it and he suspected that Puddle and Sarge and a few of the boys wouldn't mind a party, either. I left a message for Belinda, which Dotes promised to have delivered. Then I dropped in on Playmate, who not only was available and willing but saved me several hours by knowing where Saucerhead Tharpe was holed up. I then swooped down on Heaven's Gate where I talked to Trail and Storey and Miss Trim and, unfortunately, Medford Shale. Since I didn't have a keg under either arm or any treats for Shale any welcome was less than enthusiastic.
Shale could just keep on wondering why nobody came to visit him.
My weather-prediction skills proved acute. It was late afternoon when I went to see Saucerhead. It was raining. At times the downpour turned unseasonably ferocious.
Through everything the Goddamn Parrot never made a sound. That critter had to be trying to spook me out. Not that I missed the old, foul-beaked Mr. Big. Not even a little.
"Playmate's in. Morley's in," I told Tharpe, who wanted convincing. "The Dead Man might be in. If I can find him. And I particularly need you in. I don't think I can make it all happen without you." Of course I could. But everyone wants to be wanted, Saucerhead more so than most. And I had some special requests, each of which I explained carefully.
The big guy grumbled, "Gonna be a major pain, Garrett. That's a lot of work."
"You got something else going?" In the past he'd always had a good work ethic.
"Not really. Winger had an idea about—"
"You've got to get away from her, man. You ever notice how she never gets hurt in any of her schemes?"
"Yeah. I know. It's not real nice but... All right, Garrett! Don't start that shit. I really hate it when somebody reminds me that I owe him."
I offered an evil chuckle reminiscent of the one I'd last heard from Colonel Block.
The head Guardsman was next on my list. I hit the street once I finished twisting Saucerhead's... uh... giving Mr. Tharpe his instructions. With cold water drizzling down the back of my neck. I have to get myself one of those big-ass riding cloaks now that I'm a cavalier.
"That a horse?" Saucerhead called after me, from the tenement doorway. "Are you riding a horse?" He didn't mention the condition of the monster. "I've seen everything now. It really must be important. I better get on this right away." He had a hat on his head already.
How many times have I said he and Winger didn't have sense enough to get in out of the rain? Made me wonder. He did have sense enough to wear a hat while he was out in it.
Pular Singe caught me leaving the Al-Khar, after I made arrangements with Block, who guaranteed Relway's cooperation. The good colonel was in a festive mood. An attempt to rescue Gerris Genord had been crushed without Guard casualties. One invader was dead. Two now shared Genord's cell. A couple of others, whose interest had been Crask and Sadler instead of their old pal Gerris, had gotten out again.
Very interesting.
I hated myself for thinking Singe looked like a drowned rat. But I couldn't help it. She did. A drowned rat in a wet shirt. "I hoped your people would notice me running around... Where'd you get the shirt?" It used to be mine. It was Tad Weider's before that.
"From the stuff you threw away. It would be a sin to let that go to waste."
The shirt didn't flatter her. Ratpeople just aren't put together like human people. "You could get trouble from the shapechangers."
She tried to smile. It was an obvious, conscious effort to ape the human expression. "They have been disappointed already. Many times."
The clothes had gotten scattered amongst Reliance's dependents. And they didn't care if the shirts had been tagged.
"I'm glad to hear it. What about my tools?"
"Tools?" She didn't understand. I reminded me to keep it simple and slow. She might be a genius of her kind but she was still ratpeople.
"The weapons I was carrying." That stuff wasn't cheap. Even when you took most of it away from the bad boys you ran into. Still, with a little creative billing amongst my various employers... Heh-heh-heh.
"I do not know."
I tried to recall if any could be traced to me or the Weiders if they turned up at the scene of some major villainy. I didn't think so. "Would Reliance let you go out to a party tomorrow night?"
I knew I'd picked the wrong words even before the Goddamn Parrot loosed the first noise to pass his beak in hours. Slow and simple, stupid. Before she leapt too far in her conclusions.
I said, "I'll be working there. I want to hire you to unmask the creatures with no scent. Nobody is as good as you are." I couldn't restrain a grin, which seemed to help. But it was sure misplaced.
What must people think of this rain-bedraggled crew, hatless me, a soggy parrot scrunched on my shoulder, leading a moth-eaten antique horse, practically hand in hand with a ratgirl who looked like she'd been drowned once then thrown back for good measure?
The thought made me look around for witnesses. By chance I glimpsed another drowned rat. "Did you know Fenibro is following you?"