Bitter Gold Hearts (24 page)

“Hey! Very interesting. Thanks, Morley.”

“No big deal, Garrett.” He waved one hand as he marched away.

The tidbit was Morley’s way of extending the olive branch.

Saucerhead said, “It’s time I was going, too, Garrett. Take care of Miss daPena.”

I considered his broad back as he went. Had he said more than he had said? With Saucerhead it’s hard to tell if he’s just being a dumb goof or a mild cynic. I went inside and locked up. I looked around for Amber, didn’t see her. “Amber?”

“In your office.”

I went in. She had parked herself in my chair and seemed to be sulking.

“Cheer up. You were marvelous.”

“You manipulated me.”

“Of course I did. Would you have stood up to those thugs if you weren’t mad?”

“Probably not.”

I settled on a corner of the desk. “One piece of news that might perk you up. I think there’s a small chance we can lay hands on some of the gold.”

“You’re stringing me along again, aren’t you?”

“No. It’s a long shot but a real chance. I didn’t think there was one before. It depends on how distracted your mother is by the emotional side of what’s happened. I think I know what happened to some of the gold, but finding it is going to be like scratching through the pro­verbial haystack. We’ll need time.”

“You mean it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Though I admit I’m riding a hunch.” Dean brought beer and wine. We thanked him. I told Amber, “I can’t stay awake much longer. I’m going to turn in. I’ll see you in the morning.” She flashed me a wicked smile.

I understood the smile soon enough. I didn’t latch my door. Who does, inside his own house? Amber took that as an invitation. Not only did I see her sooner than I expected, I got less sleep than I hoped. Repeated clamors at the front door, ignored by the entire household, also interrupted my rest.

__XLIII__

I staggered out when the smell of breakfast over­powered my laziness. As I descended the stairs an­other hurrah broke out at the front door. I slipped over and peered through the peephole. An ugly face, bloated and red, bobbed outside. A mouth filled with bad teeth gaped and bellowed. I closed the peephole and went to breakfast. I leaned back and patted my belly. “Dean, of all the several geniuses infesting this place, I think you’re the most valuable. Where the hell did you find strawberries?”

“My niece May brought them. They’ve been in the cold well for three days.”

Nieces again? At that rate of regression the Dead Man would soon be interested in Glory Mooncalled again. “I’d better see if his nibs is awake.” Sooner or later that front door was going to have to open. “Amber, your mother is bound to come. You going to want to be scarce?”

“I can face her as long as I’ve got a place to run when it gets gruesome.”

“You’re all right, then. Dean, I’ll take a mug of tea while I rattle Old Bones.”

Dean scowled and grumbled, not at all inclined to let me take matters into my own hands. He prepared the tea with such care and deliberation I was ready to do without before he finished. Tea is tea. Making a religious cere­mony of fixing it doesn’t improve it a bit. There are those who would consider me a barbarian — the same ones who aren’t civilized enough to appreciate good beer. The Dead Man was awake. He wasn’t in a mood to be interrupted. He knew we’d have company soon and was working himself up for it. I believe he had visions of using the Stormwarden — who had been in the Cantard for months — as a chamois to buff up his Glory Mooncalled theory.

I followed Amber’s example and went to my room to groom myself for the hours ahead.

That done, I settled at a window and watched the street. It wasn’t quiet out there. The Stormwarden’s men remained at their posts but weren’t watching the house. Their carrying on had drawn a crowd. The lords of the Hill can get away with a lot. They usually remain above the laws that keep the rest of us from preying on each other. But the invasion of a home without the prior approval of the judges is something people won’t tolerate. Had the Stormwarden’s men tried to break in during the night, they might have gotten away with something — had the Dead Man allowed it. Now it was too late. If they tried, the crowd would tear them apart. Our over­lords have to exercise a delicate touch when they violate the sanctity of the home. I hoped the uptown boys didn’t get stupid. I had worked myself into a tight enough place already.

They kept me there. And company, when it came, did so from an unexpected quarter. From the corner of my eye I caught a stir coming from downtown. What to my wondering eye should appear but Saucerhead Tharpe in convoy with Sadler and Crask. The bunch looked like they had breakfasted on bitterbark soup at Morley’s place.

I sighed. “I knew things were shaping up too damned well.”

I ran into Amber in the hallway. She asked, “Is she here?”

“Not yet. It’s Saucerhead and a couple guys you don’t even want to know by sight. And I’m not going to be able to find out what they want if you don’t let me get to the stairs.”

“Oh.” She stepped aside. “Grouch.”

“You’re probably right. You might warn Dean so he can get something ready. They look like they’ll need it.”

I was three steps from the door when Saucerhead knocked. 1 glanced through the peephole and opened up. As my guests entered I gave the Stormwarden’s red-faced boy a glare and said, “Don’t even think about it.” He got redder, but I didn’t have to watch. I shut the door on him.

I seated them in the small front room next to my office. Dean appeared with tea and sweetcakes just as though they were expected. I said, “Well? What is it? How bad is it?”

Saucerhead glanced at the other two. They were will­ing to let him do the talking. I couldn’t quite tell what the threesome were up to. There was no tension between them, just a commonality of undirected disgust. Tharpe said, “Skredli got away.”

“Skredli? Got? Away? What did he do? Sprout wings and fly? Was he some kind of werebuzzard?” I’d never heard of such a beast, but nothing in this world surprises me anymore. If a man can turn into a wolf, why not an ogre into a buzzard? Both transformations seem singu­larly fitting. Perhaps even symbolic.

Prejudiced? Who? Me?

The gods forefend.

“No, he didn’t fly, Garrett. He just took off running.”

I started to express my incredulity, but it struck me that I might learn a little more a lot faster with my mouth shut. I admit I don’t often have these epiphanies. Saucerhead explained. “It was just getting light when I went out there. They took me up to the front porch and told me to wait. Then they went in and brought Skredli out. And all of a sudden, like that was all he was waiting for, he took off like a bat out of hell.”

Crask said, “It was chilly up there last night. The lizards get sluggish when their blood cools down.”

Sadler added, “Dogs won’t run an ogre ‘less they’re specially trained. Anyway, Chodo’s mutts are supposed to keep people from getting in, not from getting out.”

And Saucerhead, “It happened so sudden, and he was gone so fast, nobody had time to do nothing but gawk.”

No point in whining. It wasn’t my problem, anyway. Or was it? “You didn’t come down here just to let me in on that, did you?”

Saucerhead hit me with the news. “Chodo thinks you’re going to stick on what you’re after till you find Donni Pell. He figures that when you find her, you’ll find Skredli again, too.”

“That sounds plausible.”

“He wants Sadler and Crask to be there when you find them.”

“I see.” I can’t say I was disappointed. I foresaw any number of potentialities right down the path. Those three guys would be handy if the fur began to fly. “All right. I’m expecting heavyweight company sometime today. Raver Styx.”

“We know the game and the stakes, Garrett.”

“Indeed?” Had Amber been running her mouth? No. Saucerhead just
thought
he knew the stakes.

Which alerted me to the fact that there would be no gold hunting until Skredli and Donni Pell turned up. Unless I decided I didn’t mind Chodo’s thugs hanging around when I turned it up.

“Go about your routine,” Sadler told me. “We’ll stay out of your way.”

Sure they would. As long as it wasn’t in their interest to do otherwise.

__XLIV__

We killed time playing cards. Dean was in and out, laying scowls on me. I knew what he was thinking: I ought to whip all these bodies into a rehabilitation frenzy and get some work done on the house. He doesn’t understand that characters like Saucerhead, Sadler, and Crask get no thrill out of domestic triumphs. Amber popped in once, decided she couldn’t handle all the joviality, and retreated upstairs. The Dead Man re­mained alert in his quarters. My neck prickled each time his touch passed through the room. He would never admit he was nervous, though. Amber came back awhile later. “She’s coming, Garrett. I thought she’d at least send Domina once first.” She hesitated for a split second. “I think I’ll stay upstairs.”

“I was sure you’d want to suggest she learn to pick her nose with her elbow.”

“I’m not quite ready for that yet.”

“And if she insists on seeing you?”

“Tell her I’m not here. Say I ran off somewhere.”

“You know she won’t believe that. She’s a stormwarden. She’ll know where you are.”

Amber shrugged. “If I have to face her, I will. Other­wise, just leave me out of it.”

“Whatever you say.”

The future began hammering on the door. Dean looked in to see if I wanted him to answer. I nodded. He headed out at a reluctant shuffle. I rose and went after him. Amber scurried up the stairs. Saucerhead and the boys folded their hands and strolled into the hallway. I was five feet behind Dean when he swung the door inward. The Dead Man’s attention was so intense the air almost crackled. I had one hand in my pocket, gripping one of the potencies given me by Saucerhead’s witch, knowing that if I employed it, Raver Styx would notice the spell about as much as she might notice the whine of a mosquito. She had come to the door alone, though she’d been accompanied on the journey from the Hill. A coach and small army cluttered the street behind her. My neighbors had made themselves scarce.

She was a short woman, heavy and gnarly, like a dwarf. She’d never had anything like Amber’s beauty, even at sixteen, when they all look good. Her face was grim and ugly. She had bright blue eyes that seemed to blaze in contrast with her tanned, leathery skin and graying hair. If she was angry, though, she concealed it very well. She seemed more relaxed than most people who come to my door. Dean had frozen. I moved forward. “Do come in, Stormwarden. I’ve been expecting you.”

She stepped past Dean, glancing at him as though she was puzzled by his rigidity. Could she be that naive?

“Close the door, Dean.”

He finally moved.

I led the Stormwarden into the room where we’d been playing cards. The office was not large enough for the crowd. As I seated my guest, I asked, “Can Dean get you anything? Tea?”

“Brandy. Something of that sort. And not by the thim­bleful. I want something to drink, not something to sniff at.”

Her voice was gravelly and as deep as ever I’d heard from a woman. It had a timbre that made her sound like she was used to being one of the boys. That was the way they talked about her. I had no direct knowledge. I’d never crossed paths with her before.

“Dean, bring a bottle from that bunch the Bahgell brothers sent me.”

“Yes sir.”

I considered Raver Styx. That I might have grateful clients of the Baghell caliber didn’t impress her.

“Mr. Garrett... You are Mr. Garrett?” she asked.

“I am.”

“These others?”

“Associates. They represent the interests of a former protégé of Molahlu Crest.”

If that news amazed or dismayed her or in any other way impressed her, she didn’t show it. She said, “Very well. I’ve studied you briefly. I understand you carry on your business your own way or you don’t do business. You get results, so you can’t be faulted for your ways.”

I examined her again while Dean delivered her bottle and glass. I wasn’t sure how to play her. She was disap­pointing my expectations. I’d been steeling myself for a storm of imperial rage. I said, “I did say I was expecting you, having been drawn into the periphery of your fami­ly’s affairs. But I’m not quite certain why.”

“Don’t be ingenuous, Mr. Garrett. It’s wasted effort. You’ve been nearer the heart than the periphery. Maybe nearer than you know. My first question of you would be why.”

“Representing a client or clients, of course.”

She waited a moment. When I didn’t add anything, she asked, “Who?” Then, “No, strike that. You won’t tell me if you think it’s to your advantage to reserve it. Let me think a moment.”

After she’d reflected a moment, she continued. “Di­saster after disaster has trampled my family the past few weeks. My son kidnapped, to be redeemed for a ransom so huge the financial future of the family is in doubt. And my adopted daughter decided she had to fly the nest and for her trouble got herself slaughtered by bandits.”

I wagged a cautionary finger at Saucerhead.

“My son, after being freed, killed himself. And my natural daughter, despite your efforts and those of Willa Dount, fled home not once but twice.”

“Not to mention trivia like Courter Slauce getting him­self killed on his way down to see me last night, or the fact that thieves have stripped the daPena warehouse.”

Her face shaded with the faintest cloud of emotion, the first she’d shown. “Is that true?”

“Which?”

“About the warehouse.”

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“Maybe Domina has been too distracted to keep track of what’s happening on the commercial side.”

“Horse feathers. Domina is feeding me disasters in tid­bits in hopes I won’t have her flayed and use her hide for bookbinding.”

It was a sour, trite remark, not meant to be taken seriously. Witches and sorcerers had stood the accusation so long it had become a joke of the trade.

Having done my dance to show off, I waited, leaving the next play in her hand.