Synk honestly seemed bemused."You don't trust the Guard?"
"When money is involved? Consult your own experience."
Seconds passed. Then, "I see. Unfortunately, I wasn't given the wherewithal to undertake any negotiations."
Singe said, "You are on your own, then, Constable." She headed for the house. Where had she found that title? Pulled it from the air, perhaps.
I shrugged. "There you have it. The track may still be there in the morning." I watched Singe close the door behind herself. I told Synk, "On an unrelated point, you won't get much joy from arresting Belinda Contague's men."
Synk engaged me in a brief semantic debate, insisting that nobody had been arrested.
"You'll have a hard time selling that to folks whose agents you're hauling off."
"I don't have to sell anything." He might have been an accountant turned loose but he did have a full ration of Civil Guard conceit. He gave me some crap about protective custody for witnesses and about making sure material witnesses got the best of health care.
"Mr. Synk, I have to hand it to you. You are a prodigy of Guard bullshit and refined Relway-speak. You'll go far. As long as you don't have direct dealings with disgruntled folk like Belinda Contague."
Synk proved he was a complete desk weenie, then, by not being concerned that he might irritate a gang princess.
Let it be, Garrett. He is a good man who believes his goodness to be a shield in itself. I understand that you think you must look out for everyone, but the crushing this man is thundering toward might be instructive to the Civil Guard as a whole.
"That lesson being?"
That righteousness is not a shield. The good die more quickly than the bad.
It's also damned subjective but I did not bring that up.
I had reached a point where my hopes and ambitions swirled exclusively round the prospect of getting back to bed.
Still, some things needed attention. I had to see how Morley had weathered the last few hours. Which proved to be, he had slumbered on through. And I wanted to hear about what had the Windwalker so glum.
I had a suspicion.
The Dead Man told me I was wrong. He did not want to fuss about it tonight. I did need to get back to bed. I had a stressful tomorrow looming.
My plan to hit the sack had to go on hold while I convinced Furious Tide of Light that Singe was doing right by putting her into the guest bedroom. Though nothing would have happened if she had been allowed to snuggle in the warm with me. I was exhausted and so not in the mood. Singe's nose told her that. But there were proprieties to be observed, as far as she was concerned.
Splitting the difference, I kissed the Windwalker on the forehead when Singe wasn't looking. A minute later I was secure beneath my own blanket. The window was shut and latched. I warmed up the snore cycle.
51
The Dead Man was a perfect prognosticator. Next day was a nightmare of visitations. General Block came and went. Belinda Contague did the same, and mother-fussed Morley till he begged her to leave. Deal Relway his own self turned up, accompanied by Rocklin Synk. I thought we'd never get shut of him, though early on, for a wonder, he granted that he must be getting the truth from me.
It was hard to keep a straight face. Relway wore a custom metal mesh coif under silver mail. His freakish ears protruded through slits provided. Weird. I'd never seen his ears before. They'd always been hidden under his hair.
The headgear was guaranteed to shield his thoughts. The Dead Man assured me that the Director had been conned. It hadn't taken him thirty seconds to break through.
Relway got no warning from me.
I wasn't sure I cared to know what was hidden inside his head.
The Windwalker stayed out of sight, upstairs. She showed no inclination to leave. Singe stoically delivered her breakfast and lunch.
Sarge turned up. I joined him in with Morley. Not much got said. Sarge was just plain misty-eyed.
While I was in there other people came by with preliminary reports. Most just shambled past and let Old Bones pluck what he needed from their heads, thus betraying no connection to us.
The Dead Man touched me. I need you to catch Mr. Relway. He is a block east of Wizard's Reach, briefing some of his men.
I scooted out, chock-full of message and thrilled to be running free.
I was hacking and panting before I found the Director. He wasn't wearing his magical headgear. He looked like just another red top. Five more of who got ready to thump on me. But Relway had them hold off. No need to start right this instant.
"You should get in shape, Garrett. You're way too young to be wheezing after a quarter-mile trot."
"Old Bones says to tell you that four new watchers just moved into the neighborhood and he can't read them. Yours and the Outfit's he recognizes and considers harmless. This bunch are different. They showed up right after you left. There might be more than four, too, since they're so hard to spot."
Relway's ugly little face lit up. He asked where to look. I told him. "Thank you, Garrett. I'm going to take back some of the harsher things I've said about you. Go home. Get inside. Lock your door. Don't let anyone in after sundown."
"What? Why not?"
"Because that thing might be back and maybe has a shape-shifter side to it. Which guarantees some high adventure." He turned away, handed out assignments to his escort. Those men began to hurry off.
The Director noticed me standing there with my thumb in my ear. "Why the hell are you still here, Garrett?"
I headed for the house. It was uphill all the way. Not steeply but enough to taunt my flabby muscles. The Director's men snapped up their first victim as I climbed the steps.
Shouting and threatening attended the process. The captive considered himself exempt from the attentions of the Civil Guard. Relway disagreed. An application of nightsticks ended the argument.
The Dead Man felt so smug about it that I could feel it in the street.
But once I got inside: Double lock it, then see Dean about salt.
That was off the wall. "All right." I headed for the kitchen, where I found a disgruntled old man making supper for twice the usual crowd, with the added burden of two meals having to be suitable for consumption by invalids. He sucked it up and didn't complain so I didn't remind him how easy he had it, overall.
I expect he liked it better when Singe was the only one he had to feed and fool.
"Salt," I said.
"Yes?"
"Do we have any? His Nibs said see you about salt. I'm seeing you. He must have let you know. Damn! That smells good."
Something in the pan had me drooling.
"I have two pounds and a pinch. I picked up some last week."
"And I have some they gave me at the place where we stayed before." I thought I knew what Old Bones wanted done. He gave me a confirmatory nudge.
52
I ate. The main course was pork chops, for him and me. Singe and Dollar Dan Justice, in with Morley for the night, got sausages and that ratfolk favorite, stewed apples. I snagged a dollop of apples for myself. Dean makes them good. For Morley and Playmate it was chicken soup.
I hoped Playmate's brother-in-law didn't destroy Play's business while he was away.
We all forgot the Windwalker. At first. Old Bones nudged me.
I hustled up and let her know it was all right to come down. The outsiders were gone and we were having supper. Downstairs, Singe let her know it was all right for her to go home. Nobody would notice her leaving. I wondered if she thought the watchers had been stricken blind.