Tinnie caught on. She swatted my hands away, snatched at the kettle. “You’re a total swine, aren’t you? What’s he doing to her?”
“She tried to kill me.”
“Bull. She didn’t, either. She just-”
“You knew?”
“We talked a lot. She’s lonely without her kittens.”
“And you didn’t-?”
“It was private, Garrett. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
I rolled my eyes in appeal to the sky. Even my best girl now?
Before I could protest further, she said, “Somebody’s at the door.”
It couldn’t be critical. Old Bones wasn’t spouting warnings. Dean couldn’t be back already, could he? The redhead wasn’t that distracting.
Singe appeared. “Saucerhead is here. With that woman.”
“Which woman?”
“Winger.” Her tone left no doubt about her esteem for my friend.
Tinnie looked relieved.
“Saved by the cavalry, eh?”
She stuck out her tongue.
“You’ll pay, woman. Mark my words, you’ll pay.”
She just sneered.
Winger was more wasted than Melondie Kadare ever managed. “Garrett!” she burbled, blurry-eyed, using both walls to stay upright. “Yer a sum um a bitch, even if yer one a the good guys.” She leaned against one wall. “Jes need a minute. I’m messed-up.”
“What’s this?” I asked Saucerhead.
“A very drunk woman.”
“That part didn’t get past me. I’ve got skills. I was thinking more along the lines of, why? And why here? She might make a mess.”
“I think she’s done all of that she can. Less’n she can get her socks up.”
“Even so. Singe, stand by the door. We’ll toss her out if-”
Tinnie interrupted, “It’ll take all of you to do it.”
Winger started snoring. She sank toward the floor.
Tharpe told me, “The Dead Man said bring her in. He wants to know what she found out.”
“She found out there’s a limit to how much she can drink.”
“She’s upset. She’s misplaced Jon Salvation. She don’t remember where. Or how. She’s scared she might’ve killed him. Or something.”
“Great! Well, let’s see if we can’t drag her-”
There is no need to bring her in. I have examined her memories. They support what we have learned from these other sources while including little of additional interest.
Winger’s snores turned into what sounded like a desperate fight for air. Her eyes popped open. She climbed the wall. “I know what I done wit’ ’im. I’t’ink. Damn fool.” She stumbled toward the front door.
“Winger, you ain’t in no shape to go out there,” Tharpe told her. “You’ll freeze your ass. Tell me where he’s at. I’ll go scoop him up.”
“Head, yer a sum um a bitch, even if yer a one a the good guys.”
“So you keep telling me. Why don’t you just relax? I’ll find Jon.”
“The Remora? You know where ’e’s at?”
“You were going to tell me.”
“You been holding out on me, Head. You never did like him.” Winger began to sag. “That place that’s like a ship. Grimes’ Cove. I ‘member he was wit’ me there.”
Tharpe turned toward the door. The Dead Man filled us in on what Winger knew without knowing she knew. I said, “You don’t want to go back out without warming up, do you? Tinnie and I were making tea.”
“A snack wouldn’t hurt, neither.” Tharpe shook his head, looking at Winger. “The things we do for folks just on account of they’re friends.”
I avoided any comment.
Saucerhead was working on a stale roll when Singe yelled. We burst out of the kitchen. Singe indicated Winger. Winger was making weird noises. She had her guts behind them.
“Come on!” I swore some. “Get that damned door open!”
Tharpe and I each grabbed an arm. Tinnie sort of nipped around the booted end, like a puppy trying to help without knowing how. Singe flung the door wide. Cold air blasted us. It woke Winger as we heaved her out against the rail on the stoop.
Her socks came up.
“Hey!”
Dean was back. With a cart. Which I hoped wasn’t stolen. Winger’s rude greeting missed him by inches.
Dean wasn’t alone. Seemed he always found somebody to help with the cart. Whoa! Hell. That bundle of rags was the lone member of the Contague tribe not already installed in the Dead Man’s room.
“You. Get inside before somebody recognizes you.” Potential watchers should all still be gone to war, but why take chances?
Draped over the rail, Winger gasped, “Blindar, yer a bitch even if yer a one a the good gals.” She cackled. “An’ yer sure as hell ain’t.” She tried to laugh, but her stomach revolted.
I said, “Inside. Wait in the hall with Tinnie. I’ll help Dean.” Singe came out, too, while Tinnie took charge of Belinda. With little of her customary empathy. “Did you clean out the whole damned market?”
Saucerhead concentrated on Winger. Winger was trying to aspirate her own puke.
“You told me to get ready for a siege,” Dean said.
“I did, didn’t I? Where did Belinda come from?”
“I ran into her in the market. She was pretending to be a refugee. I told her to come get warm.”
I grunted under the weight of a sack of apples.
“I thought that would be better than maybe having her go back into the Tenderloin.”
“Yeah.” Damn! Those apples were heavy. “But why is she here? She should be back home waiting out the storm. She has to know there’s a war on.”
“I think she’s afraid there’re traitors there.”
“What does she know about the situation here?”
“She knows it’s warm. And safe.”
I started to growl. Exhaustion was closing in again. I was getting cranky.
“I told her nothing. Her problems come from her disaffection with her father. It might be useful if she confronts him.”
“Good thinking.” Maybe. I didn’t like his deciding what was best for somebody else. He tried too much of that with me.
Singe went by. “Once again the ratgirl does the work while the human folk stand around jawing.”
Belinda wasn’t in the hallway when I went inside. “Uh-oh.”
It is under control. Join us once you deliver your cargo.
Leave the rest for Dean? Fine with me.
71
Belinda took three steps into the Dead Man’s room. She froze, gaped at her father.
Chodo sensed the new presence but could not see who it was.
Take the deacon out when you go. Put him into the cart. Get rid of him.
Dean gave me a hand. For reasons probably having to do with externally applied inhibitions, I didn’t wonder what Colonel Block would think about us turning his prisoner loose. Nor did I wonder why Old Bones wanted him running free. With my experience I should’ve been more suspicious.
After a long adventure through nasty streets, Dean and I abandoned cart and deacon not far from the Al-Khar. We trudged home exchanging lies about who was more tired. I got there to find the seating arrangements in the Dead Man’s room revised. There seemed to be plenty enough kittens to provide several for every Contague. The big boy from Ymber was snoring. Harvester Temisk looked like he was dead. But he kept on breathing. Poor Harvester. His only role now was to take up space.