I sat in that room with that man and slipped ever nearer the bounds of explosive lunacy.
I needed to rediscover patience. There would be a long training period once Morley climbed out of that bed. It might take him a year to get strong enough. Then we would go get whoever hurt him.
Crush came in. "This is the last book we've got. And the most boring." She passed me a ragged old thing from the last century, well into its senior years. It was tied round with ribbon to keep loose pages from getting away.
"What is it? Maybe I won't need to figure out these knots." Crush had decided I wasn't that awful after all. I was unthreatening. Avuncular. The kind of uncle who keeps his hands to himself. We could talk about stuff. Bookish stuff, but not for long. She was a popular girl with an extended list of regular clients.
This book was a history of TunFaire's early years, up to the establishment of the monarchy. It was a copy of a copy. It was a slow read because the language was old-fashioned.
I was excited because several chapters covered times when the Dead Man was still alive. He might get no mention but I could peek through a window into the age that shaped him.
"Crush, how long you figure on staying in the life?"
"What kind of question is that?" Instantly defensive.
"A serious one from somebody who thinks your mind is wasted here."
"The mind may be. That's not the business we're in. The body is getting pounded so hard I mean to walk on my twentieth birthday. I shouldn't ever have to work again. If my investments are good. I might take DeeDee with me-if she can learn to live without the attention."
DeeDee was the star of the house. Normally, she dealt only with select private clients. She was a blonde, none too bright, part elf, extremely sensual when she was so inclined, and, rumor said, thoroughly enjoyed her work. That was unusual in her trade. She craved approval. She got all she needed here. Crush was afraid she would refuse to give it up.
Crush was brighter than she pretended. In time I realized that all of our conversations came round to what we were working on at Amalgamated.
Why? Amalgamated is a company but you can't buy in. Different people have different percentages but every fraction is fixed. If a founding partner wants out he has to offer his points to the other investors first. So far nobody has shown any inclination toward getting out.
Amalgamated was designed to make us all rich by bringing the fruits of Kip Prose's genius to market. The big shareholders are Kip and his family, the Tates, and the Weiders of Weider Brewing. I have a few points for having kept Kip alive through hard times, and for having had the wit to put him into the company of rich people content to let him tinker and fiddle and make them far richer than they already were.
Subjectively, I spent half a lifetime at Fire and Ice. On the calendar it was four days. My best pal kept on sleeping, waking up for water ever less frequently. I wondered if his medication didn't do more than just manage pain. Keeping Morley in Nod seemed like a good idea, medically. It was less optimal for those of us who are naturally impatient.
I kept thinking that if that was me I would have been up and running already-if somebody didn't fix me so I couldn't.
Belinda's doing. Had to be. She thought it was more important for Morley to heal than it was for us to get out and mix it up with villains.
I was thinking stupid and knew it. And was afraid that just sitting watch over Morley would end up with me hating him.
Miss Tea invited herself in occasionally. She did not become less antagonistic. Finally, though, she turned up in a less gloomy mood. "The Capa says it's time to move him. After his supper and evening cleaning. If you need to make special preparations, tell me now."
I mentioned a lamb-and-rice dish that I liked, chattered about how I would miss the place that had been home for so long.
"You've been here less than a week."
"It feels like so much longer."
"It did to us. But you're just being a wiseass. I have the Capa's promise that I don't have to put up with any crap."
"Uh-oh."
"Exactly. Get your stuff ready. I especially want that arsenal under the bed gone before somebody takes legal notice. The books stay home."
"I'll see if I can't send up a few that are more interesting."
"Now you're being a dick."
"I can't help it. It's being cooped up in here."
"Now you're going to blame your personality defects on us, too?"
Ouch! "Good thing we still love each other."
Ghost of a smile. "Will where you're going be any better?"
I restrained myself. Maybe not. My responsibilities wouldn't change. "I don't know. Come by some time and see."
25
As promised, Belinda turned up with several burly henchmen after supper. DeeDee and Crush got Morley back into the rags he was wearing when he showed up. Most of the blood had been scrubbed out. The holes hadn't been mended. Mixed feelings floated around. DeeDee and Crush were sad to see Morley go, though neither ever exchanged a word with him. Despite all the attitude, Miss Tea was unhappy, too. She turned out the off-duty staff to move Morley and my stuff.
"A hearse?" I asked Belinda when I got down to the street. "You're taking him away in a hearse?" Where did she even find one? There can't be ten in the whole city.
"Yes. Put on the hat and coat that Joel has for you. Then climb up and take the post position."
"What are you talking about?"
"Get up on the seat beside the driver. Try to look like a professional."
"A professional what?"
"That's always the question with you, isn't it? Move! We don't have time for games."
Four men emerged from the back door of the hook shop. They behaved exactly like men sneaking a corpse out of a place where it shouldn't be found. I considered leaving Miss Tea with a buss on the cheek and Crush with a promise to visit soon, decided to be more mature, walked away from what would have been signature behavior a few years back. My best pal was on that litter, under that black woolen blanket, and several people, including me, were counting on me to get him where he needed to go with no damage added.
I hustled over for a costume fitting.
Joel was a slim hard case with zombie eyes. He put me into a long black coat and a semierect black hat, like a soft cone, nearly a foot tall. With the hat I acquired the long, twisted sideburn curls of the morticians' guild. The hat had wig elements built in. Joel said, "Quit grab-assing and get up on the post. And, yes, the hat is real. Move!"
Maybe that was why you never recognize a mortician when he isn't on duty. He wears a disguise at work.
The coat cramped my shoulders. It hung to my ankles. The climb to the seat was difficult. The goofy damned hat slipped down into my eyes.
I settled to brood and nurture my resentment of the man who had overturned my life by getting himself all stabbed up. If the damned fool could've skipped that I'd have been snuggling with my favorite redhead.
The hearse was not a tall wagon, though the seats were high. The driver, seated to my left, asked, "You heeled, Slick?"
"Lightly." I showed him my head knocker. "The character with the ratty ginger hair put my heavy equipment in with the client."
The man chuckled. He was an old, long drink of water who looked like this might be his true calling. "Client. I like that. Nice stick, too. Good enough for tonight. Won't no resurrection men mess with this mob."
Two mounted men led, followed by Belinda's coach with thugs all over it. Then came another armed rider, the hearse with the mighty Garrett in the post and an armed thug on a running board to either side. One of those was my new pal, Joel. Behind the hearse were two more horsemen.
"What might resurrection men be?"
"Body snatchers. It's a problem lately. Somebody is buying youngish corpses that're in good shape. Where you been, Ace? Out of town?"