"The prevailing theory is that it's somebody who can't make the connection between actions and consequences. We got a sicko out there, Garrett. A huge sicko."
A race was on, now, between the Outfit and the Guard. Honors to the winner would be first chance to have a long, painful sit-down with whoever was behind these deaths.
The mystery men in gray had fallen in the street on a line from under Morley's window to the place where Belinda's watcher had perished earlier. The force of the bang had hit them from behind, hurling them a dozen yards across cobblestones. A blood trail said one crawled twenty feet before expiring. The broken remains of a cart and roasted carcasses of two goats marked the beginning of his brief trek. Against the brick wall, below the window, lay a chunk of something that put me in mind of squid. There were no tentacles or anything, it was just that the skin on the uncooked side had a texture that stirred the squid notion.
Berry said, "Most of the guys were reminded of snails. I guess because of the crust on the brick."
"No shell."
"No tentacles, either."
"That's true. Do we know what happened?"
"We know exactly what happened, minute by minute."
"Give me the highlights. If you would be so kind."
"The goat cart showed up just like it did before. Like whoever was bringing it had no idea that we might be watching."
"But with two thugs along."
"Stupid. Totally overconfident stupid. Miss Contague had a friend off the Hill tucked in to watch, same place as the guy who got waxed. He used a stealth spell that wasn't completely effective. The villain didn't notice him right off. When he did the Hill guy unleashed the lightning."
"And that caused all this?"
"It did. Miss Contague used somebody from the first string."
"Where's the villain?"
"Got away. Come over here." Berry led me past the wreck of the cart to a patch of what looked like candle black fifteen feet across. At its center was a circle of perfectly pristine cobblestones a yard across. The black around the circle was an eighth of an inch thick. Small footprints left, passed all the casualties, and headed toward downtown. "There was a running fight. That's when we lost our guys. And the Outfit soldier."
"No wounded. Just dead."
"Yep."
"And the sorcerer?"
"The one who made the bang? Too old and fat to keep up."
Surrounding buildings were too tall for me to see far but I thought the villain's line of flight might parallel a crow's toward the Hill. I didn't mention that. I didn't need to. That angle would be getting a hard look already, not just by the red tops and Outfit but by key people on the Hill. They don't like rogue behavior likely to attract more animus than they already enjoy.
"This is a puzzlement, Sergeant."
"It is indeed. Dotes said anything yet?"
Ha. Here was why I had my very own red top tour guide. "Not yet. Believe me, though, I'll have a book full of questions when he does wake up."
"If he does?"
"He's my oldest friend, Sergeant. I'm bound to think positive."
"Was I you, I'd do my best to be positive. After last night people all the way up to the Crown Prince are going to want to ask him what's going on."
I made one of those intuitive leaps for which I'm not well-known. "I'll bet an angel right now that he won't have any idea."
"He's going to clam and try to handle it himself?"
Morley's mind would work that way. "Not what I meant. I mean I'm willing to bet he knows less about what's going on than you or me."
"But somebody wants to kill him."
"Maybe. But maybe the somebody who was here wasn't the same somebody who turned him into a pincushion. Maybe this somebody wants to find out what that somebody was up to." I was brainstorming. That notion arose from the fact that there had been no sorcery involved in the attack on Morley. "Mistaken identity might be involved. Or somebody thinks Morley knows something that he doesn't. I could come up with this stuff all day. It's just speculation."
"Sicko."
Probably. Undoubtedly. In the spirit of open cooperation, I began to quiz Berry about crimes that might have been related to what had happened here. Relway had mentioned a deep interest in a pattern of ugliness.
I did not get to run with that.After discovering that she could not open the window to yell at me, Miss Tea began pounding on glass to get my attention. She beckoned vigorously.
"Got to go, Sergeant. Thanks for everything."
21
Miss Tea did not give me a chance to ask what was happening. "I didn't tell you to take the rest of the day off, I'd cover for you."
"The red tops gave me the first-class tour. I've never seen them this serious. We may have Prince Rupert himself up here later."
She wanted to go on being irritated but put that aside. A visit from the Crown Prince had a ton of meaning. "I see."
"Our own prince say anything while I was out?" Dotes was sound asleep again.
"He proposed. A two-hour common-law marriage. After he gets on his feet again. I'm thinking about it."
"Another sign that he's recuperating."
Miss Tea scowled at me and grumbled something I don't think Morley would have found endearing. She absented herself in quest of more important duties. She didn't take the breakfast tray. I poured cold tea, put my cot back down, settled, picked up the Salvation omnibus and tried reading Star-Crossed Love. The title said it all. The theme animated most of the plays put on in TunFaire's theaters. There were autobiographical elements to this one. The female protagonist, instead of being the usual fainthearted rose, resembled Salvation's girlfriend, Winger.
After a few pages I glanced over, wondered aloud, "What did you get yourself into this time?"
It looked big. That didn't fit. Morley would not do anything to invite the attention of Prince Rupert.
That left me thinking about the attack on me and Tinnie.
We weren't involved by choice, either.
I went back to the play. I needed to clear my head.
I finished the first scene in act three, looked over, found Morley looking back, not brightly. "What the hell did you do?"
He gave me a weak smile, said, "Water!" in a raspy little croak.
I dribbled water. When he had enough he went back to sleep, nothing said and no questions answered.
Crush brought lunch and took breakfast's remains away. I told her, "I need more water and a chamber pot change."
"I need a diamond tiara."
Despite the attitude, all was handled quickly.
Morley woke up, drank water, dispensed no wisdom, and went back to sleep. An hour before supper the healer returned, tricked out in his best mourning outfit. I did not care enough to ask why the Children dressed that way. I was getting jaded. And distracted.
Accompanying the healer was a serious surprise from yesteryear, the Windwalker, Furious Tide of Light.
She was surprised to see me, too. And a tad embarrassed, I think. She lowered her big, beautiful violet eyes.
I greeted the sorceress politely, inwardly pursuing a goofy calculation trying to connect a heavyweight off the Hill with a cult healer because of the word Light. I don't have an adequately developed paranoid imagination.
Belinda Contague accompanied them but stayed in the hall, observing. I did some observing myself.
The Windwalker hadn't aged a minute. She remained totally waiflike and utterly delicious but today she was all business. She moved to the window, looked out, paid almost no attention to Morley. I tried to remember if they had met. Those were confusing times. Antediluvian times. I was a different man in a different world, then, not a respectable member of the bourgeoisie.
I couldn't help but snicker. That earned a scowl from all women present.