I described the thing I'd found around Snake's neck.
"The General had something like that in his study."
Peters brightened. "Yes! I remember it. It was with a whole bunch of junk, whips and stuff, in the corner by the fireplace."
I recalled the whips. I hadn't paid much attention. "Dellwood, next time you're up there, see if it's gone. Ask the General where it came from. And where it went if it's not there."
Dellwood nodded. I hated to turn loose but I couldn't keep him on my suspect list. He just didn't seem capable. If I discounted Peters, who'd have to be crazy to hire me if he was guilty, I didn't have many suspects left.
The others were thinking the same way. Chain, Kaid, and Wayne started giving each other plenty of room.
Peters started to go.
"Wait," I said. "There's one question I should've asked before. I've been too busy with murder to worry about theft. Does anybody have a drug habit? Or gamble? Or keep a woman on the outside?" All of those might explain the thievery.
Everybody shook their heads.
"Not even Hawkes or Snake or Tyler?" Three in one day. The old man wasn't going to be happy about the job I was doing, though he hadn't exactly hired me to keep people alive.
"No," Peters said. "You don't stay alive in the Cantard if you're the slave of your vices."
True. Though vice had been rampant in places like Full Harbor, where we'd taken our rare leaves and liberties. A hellhole for a kid, Full Harbor. But you learned what life was like there. You had no illusions when you left.
Karenta hadn't yet evacuated Full Harbor, though Glory Mooncalled said they had to go. His deadline had passed. Something would happen down there soon. A really big explosion. And Glory Mooncalled wouldn't have his usual advantages. You can't outrun, out-maneuver, or even sneak up on a fortified city waiting for you. I doubted he had friends inside the walls. His enemies there would include Karenta's top sorcerers, against whom he had no defense.
I didn't think he could take Full Harbor. But he had to try. He'd shot off his mouth one time too many. He was committed.
The fate of Full Harbor meant nothing now, of course. We had our own siege here, a siege of horror.
Peters's group split to make sure the house hadn't been penetrated. The rest of us stayed at the fountain, in reserve. After a while, I asked, "Dellwood, what do you figure on doing after the General passes?"
He looked at me funny. "I never really thought about it, Mr. Garrett."
That was hard to believe. I said so.
Wayne chuckled. "Believe it, Garrett. This guy isn't real. He ain't here for the money. He's here to take care of the old man."
"Really? And why are you here?"
"Three things. The money. I got nowhere else to go. And Jennifer."
I lifted an eyebrow. I hadn't gotten much chance to show off my favorite trick lately. "The General's daughter?"
"The same. I want her."
Pretty blunt, this one. "What's the General think?"
"I don't know. I never brought it up. I don't intend to before he goes."
"What do you plan to do with your share of the money?"
"Nothing. Let it sit. I won't need it if I have Jenny, will I?"
No, he wouldn't.
"Which is why I ain't your killer, Mister. I don't have to skrag anybody to get half the estate."
A point. "What's Jennifer think about this?" She hadn't shown any interest in Wayne.
"Straight? She ain't exactly swept away. But she ain't got no other offers and she ain't likely to get none. When the time comes, she'll come around."
What an attitude. He sounded like a guy who could work his way up a hit list fast.
"What do you think about that, Dellwood?"
"Not much, sir. But Miss Jennifer will need somebody."
"How about you?"
"No sir. I haven't the force of personality to deal with her. Not to mention the fact that she isn't a very pleasant person."
"Really?" I was about to probe that when Wayne jumped up and pointed.
There was a vague shape at the back door, not clearly visible through the glass. It rattled the door. I figured it was Morley. I walked toward the door slowly. Make him wait.
Halfway there a face pressed against the glass. I was able to make out decomposed features. I stopped.
"Another one. Don't panic. I don't think it can get in. If it does, stay out of its way." I returned to the fountain, settled, disturbed but not afraid. The draugs weren't particularly dangerous when you were ready for them.
One in a night was unpleasant enough, but not that unreasonable—except for the assault on reason. In this world almost anything can happen and it does, but I'd never seen the dead get up and walk before. I'd never known anybody who'd seen it—unless you counted vampires. But they're a whole different story. They're victims of a disease. And they never really die, they just slip into a kind of limbo between life and death.
Once was unpleasant, twice was doubly unpleasant, but three times was just too much to have been animated by hatred and hunger for revenge alone. Not all in the same night.
Mass risings of the dead, in story and legend, were initiated from outside, by necromancers. By sorcerers.
"Hey, uh, Dellwood. Anybody around here a trained sorcerer? Or even an amateur?"
"No sir." He frowned. "Why?"
I lied. "I thought we could use a little help laying some restless spirits."
"Snake," Wayne said. "He could do some spooky stuff. Picked it up from a necromancer. He was her chief bodyguard for a while. He painted her picture and she taught him some tricks." He snickered. Must have been a variety of tricks. "He wasn't much good at it."
"And he's dead."
"Yeah. That's how you get off the hook around here."
But... "Suppose he could think like a sorcerer?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I... ? Let me reach. I was supposed to meet him. He was going to tell me who the killer was. He seemed sure he knew. He'd be wary. But somebody got to him despite his training and precautions. Suppose he knew that might happen? Suppose that, if he had a mind to, he could turn himself into a booby trap."
"Somebody's a booby."
"Flatterer. Look, it's in stories all the time. The curse that gets you after you kill a sorcerer. Suppose he fixed it so that, if he got killed, everybody else the killer killed would get up and go after him?"
Wayne grunted. "Maybe. Knowing that spooky, paranoid bastard, he'd rig it so they'd get up and go after everybody."
That fit, too. Sometimes I'm so brilliant I blind myself.
So what? Suppose that was true? It explained the draugs but didn't settle anything. There was a killer on the loose—if that hadn't been Tyler. No way to know unless he struck again.
If he had an ounce of brains, he'd retire while he had the chance to get out free.
I have such confidence in human nature. "Gents, I'm bone tired. I'm going to bed."
"Sir!" Dellwood protested.
"That thing isn't going to get in." It was still trying.
And getting nowhere. "Our killer, if he's still alive, has got a great out now. He can let Tyler take the rap."
What you call planting a seed for the slow of wit.
I was so tired, my eyes wouldn't stay open. I needed to set myself up with some safe time. "Good night, all."
21
Morley was in my sitting room when I arrived. He had his feet up on my writing table. "You're getting old, Garrett, you can't take one long night anymore."
"Huh?" I was right on top of things. We investigator types have minds like steel traps. We're always ready with a snappy comeback.
"Heard your speech to the troops, shucking them so you can make with the snores."
"My second long night in a row. How'd you get in? Thought we had the place buttoned up."