"It did."
I thanked him for the notes. I followed Morley, pausing just long enough to add, "Tell your security crew to let Crush in if she shows up." Wondering if Mike would give a star that much freedom of motion.
"Yeah. It's Stage Two. Six in the morning till three. Then we clear out so they can set up for the early performance of King Kristine. We're almost always gone by one, though. Everyone has other things to do." He sneered.
King Kristine was not one of his. It was the story of a prince who was born a girl but her father hid the fact. A romantic comedy aimed at a female audience. As a newly crowned king, Kristine would fall for Waldon of the kingdom next door, just when her advisers wanted a war.
There have been numerous variations on the theme since plays got popular. It might turn out that Waldon was a girl, too. Or the princess the king was supposed to marry would be a pretty boy in drag. Along the way there would be lots of misunderstandings and mischief by friends.
Romantic comedies don't have legs but they sell well for a short while. They make nice fillers between the big dramas that draw the repeat customers.
The Faerie Queene would replace King Kristine about as soon as Jon Salvation had it ready to present.
I shut the door, went to Singe's office. On time. Dean and Playmate were delivering tea and sandwiches. The new drug had Playmate looking much better. He wore a smile that took no strain to produce.
I ate with one hand, read Jon Salvation's notes with the other, then passed them on to Singe. She kept a straight face, too.
"That something I should know about?" Block asked.
"It's mostly a lot of frustration. Plus instructions about what he wants Singe to put into a letter that he wants to go to a woman without her realizing that the letter came from him."
"He's going to do romantic comedy now?" Block gave me the fish-eye. He was ready to get all moody because I was lying. But I was only massaging the truth.
I said, "Here's a suggestion. Check around your shop. See if somebody has been buying a lot of costumes."
"We have been. We intend to put some patrolmen into uniform next quarter."
"That's a relief, then. I guess."
"You thought it was us behind all this?"
No. But I did want a brief distraction and Jon Salvation's notes did mention the Guard hiring costumers to produce uniforms for the troops and shiny outfits for their commanders.
I yakked. Singe worked some sleight of hand. Several sheets of notes disappeared. "Stop being a knee-jerk obstructionist and pass the notes to the General." She handed them to me, I handed them to Block. She said, "General, please pass those to the Windwalker once you read them."
So the notes made the rounds. And Block grumbled, "You were holding out. This tracking the costumes. ."
Singe said, "You were informed, General. Your ability to comprehend what you were hearing may have been compromised by your determination to lay waste to our reserve of ardent spirits."
She made me chuckle. And it might even have been true.
I couldn't remember.
Block grumbled, "So I'm a little behind." He got up, did some mild twists to loosen up. "I'll catch up."
Singe gestured. I led the General to the door, asking, "How come you're always out by yourself? You ought to be tripping over escorts."
"When I go out alone I go where I want and see what I want."
"Damn. I didn't think of it that way. Well, go spank some bad guys."
I shut the door and scooted back to Singe's office. "Morley. Did you get a chance. .? No wonder he hasn't said anything for a while."
He was sound asleep.
"All right, Singe. Let's do it. Strafa, we held back a couple of things. I wanted you to see them first."
The notes Block had not seen named people who had ordered stuff that may have become part of the midnight road show.
A woman calling herself Constance Algarda had taken delivery of seven hundred yards of coarse gray wool fabric and a score of well-seasoned bracer logs twelve feet long. Bracer is a lightweight tropical wood prized for its workability. A younger woman calling herself Kevans Algarda had ordered two pairs of high-top black-leather fuck-me boots from a cobbler associated with the tailor who specialized in fetish wear. Said cobbler believed the same woman patronized a nearby wigmaker. The cobbler had waxed poetic about the Algarda woman's structure.
A man who claimed to be Barate Algarda paid for the goods in each case. In neither case had a delivery been made. These people transported their own goods.
Jon Salvation had worked wonders just by being Jon Salvation.
Strafa said, "This is impossible."
"I agree."
"As do I," Singe said. "That is why I hid the notes. As Garrett requested."
I told Strafa, "This part has to be on you. And you need to move fast. Block and Relway will be all over this. It puts them ahead of the busybodies from the Palace and the Hill." Only Saucerhead had gone round the theater support shops before Salvation.
"I'll start with Barate. I don't know where he'd get the money, but if he is the one. ." She whisked out, turned left toward the kitchen and stair instead of toward the front door.
I looked at Singe. She said, "I don't believe it is those three. Well, maybe the old woman. . We need to be careful."
"You think Shadowslinger would frame her own flesh and blood?"
"Most of those Hill monsters would. My concern is us getting tangled up in guilt by association."
"Oh." Maybe I picked the exact wrong time to get involved with a Windwalker.
Singe said, "It's too bad she is the only one who can go out. Someone ought to take the artwork to show the cobbler, wigmaker, and fetish tailor."
Scarier and scarier. "You should have thought of that before she left."
"I will talk to her when she gets back."
87
Playmate leaned in the doorway. "Dean says come and get it. You lot first."
Singe and I were up and going immediately. She said, "You'll have to wake him up."
Morley had not responded to the mention of food, though he had been making up for lost time lately.
"I'll do it when we get back."
We left Playmate setting up folding tables.
Dean had reorganized. The kitchen table was set up so customers could come in, grab a plate and tools, circle the table taking food from platters and bowls, then snag a ready-filled mug of beer or tea and be gone. Playmate held the door due to our lack of extra hands.
Singe again suggested that I waken Morley. "We should start getting him onto a normal schedule."
I set my mountain of fried chicken down to cool. I went after my best pal.
"Don't make a passion play out of it, Garrett. You can see he isn't going to wake up. Go ahead and eat."
Playmate arrived with a pitcher as I chomped on my first drumstick. Then he crossed the hall to collect the crowd over there. Dollar Dan, licking grease off his whiskers, passed the doorway, headed up front.
Penny and the Bird sounded excited about supper. I expected that Bird didn't eat well normally.
Dollar Dan reappeared with John Stretch. "Just in time for supper," Singe said, her tone critical.
"Not this time, sister. I had a nice cheese pie before I came over. I can afford to feed myself, you know."
Singe had taken mostly vegetables. She attacked a baked yam, no apology to her brother or the yam.
"Got news?" I asked with my mouth full.
"Bad news that is good. We have located three places that smell of death and chemicals. Two are much like the warehouse in Elf Town, particularly in the way they fit into their locales." He gave rough addresses.
I said, "Neither one is in a human neighborhood."