Cruel Zinc Melodies (45 page)

I did not. There is an excellent chance that they know nothing.

“Yet they wore wigs.”

Yes, they did. Algarda started at Kevans?
suggestion several weeks ago.

“She was setting him up to put thoughts in.”

She was readying him for the day when she could.

“And the Windwalker?”

Kevans has very little respect for her mother. “That fire-crotchbimbo!” when she talks about her to the other kids. There is, definitely, an element of competition for Daddy’s attention and affection. But, as to the parental place in this, I believe them to be exactly what they purport. Parents worried about their daughter. With reason, obviously. Their part in the scheme would be unwitting. Many people have contributed, none being fully aware. Miss Algarda has used every acquaintance as a brick in the overall wall.

“And would’ve gone to wondrous places if not for the rest of the Faction.”

Those boys and their giant bugs were her undoing.

Dean barged in with food. “I'll fetch a fresh pitcher in a minute.” He looked around. Matters appeared to be proceeding to his satisfaction. But, “Has anyone thought about what to do when the parents show up demanding explanations?”

Oh. “You think they will?”

That will depend on what the individual young people believe happened here. I suspect most will not be anxious to have their parents become further involved. We have leverage now.

“But Dean is right. We'll hear from somebody. And none of this is what we’re getting paid for.”

Correct. We will get back to the World in the morning.
The connection between the Faction and the theater has been severed. The young people should go their own ways.

Tomorrow John Stretch will make his final effort. I am confident that his rats will find little of interest. In point of fact, now we have only to deal with the dragon.

A big Only.

The Dead Man’s mood had gone through a dramatic upgrade. He was on a super high now, thrilled to be part of what, for him, was a wild intellectual adventure.

Me too. Some.

There were beautiful women everywhere, wicked and good and every possible alloy in between, along with selfish, shallow, naive, and self-destructive. What a wonderful landscape!

Old Bones went right on having adventures in the wild country behind the eyes of Kevans Algarda and Lurking Felhske. I felt his glee as he plowed the darkness and turned up curious artifacts, most of which he would never share because he wouldn’t consider them my business.

Ah.

“Yes?”

I have made an interesting discovery. Buried deep in the trivia cluttering Mr. Felhske’s mind.

“Which would be?” Knowing he loved to be coaxed.

Who produced your most recent batch of clubs?

“Clubs?” Oh. He meant the weighted headknockers. I’d bought six last fall. I keep leaving them behind. Or getting them taken away. Cost of doing business. “Ivl Verde. The furniture maker who supplies the wooden parts for the three-wheels. He has troll-powered lathes that can turn a club in a couple minutes. Why?”

Mr. Felhske could find you in a snowstorm because Mr. Verde let someone put a tracking spell on your clubs.

“I can guess who.”

Correct. Director Relway. And Mr. Felhske received a trace key from someone inside the Al-Khar. I would not suggest that you operate unarmed, so you should replace the Verde sticks.

“I’ve still got one old one in the tool closet.” My name for the household arsenal. “Which I'll save for when I really don’t want to be tracked.” I didn’t care if the law watched me now. So why tip them off?

His Nibs radiated agreement.

I asked, “What’s that smell?”

Felhske had begun to stage a comeback.

Dean brought more food. I ate some more and drank more beer.

The Dead Man sent,
I am now done with the children. You may release them.

“Really? Even...?”

Even Miss Algarda. I have done some inspired editing of her memories. I cannot turn her into someone she is not, but I am able to manipulate the knowledge she will be able to access.

I’d seen it done before. I expected to see it done again. “All right. Let me finish this sausage.” And, a minute later,

“You kids get ready to go. I'll go along, make sure you’re all right. I need to see Tinnie, anyway.”

Kip and Kyra eyed each other like they’d been sentenced to remote and protracted prison terms. Each silently willed the other to do something.

“Won’t do any good, guys. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

I did wonder how Kyra kept getting out. In fact, why were so many of the Faction so loosely supervised? Kevans in particular.

Kevans ought to have a parent in each pocket.

“We need to make sure Kevans gets home safe, too.” That would take us a quarter hour out of our way.

I bundled up in my new fur coat and led the children outside. Along the way, in weather increasingly less unpleasant, Kip tried to distract me from what he feared was my determination to be a chaperone. He chattered on and on about ways to light the World.

For my part, I worried. I tried to make Kip understand how much he’d been used.

He wasn’t that upset.

Kevans was his friend. The rest mattered a lot less.

I have a few of those friends myself.

Kyra didn’t share Kip’s attitude. Kevans wasn’t her friend. And she was afraid that Kip and Kevans might have played at being more than just friends, once upon a time.

I cut them loose, telling Kip, “Go to the manufactory after you get Kyra home. Lie low there till I get things worked out with the Algardas.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t believe much of what Old Bones had dug out? he hadn’t been included in all the rotten details? but he was bright enough to understand that he was out of his depth.

He paused to hug Kevans. They mumbled to each other. Kyra seethed, in redhead Tate “thou shalt have no other anyone” fashion. Then Kip joined her and they headed off. I’d bet Kyra never let go all the way to the Tate compound.

The girl had it bad. The natural way.

I hoped Kip dealt with it better than I did.

Kevans, of course, had a secret way in and out of the Algarda stronghold. And stronghold it was, as is the case with most homes on the Hill. Those people used to squabble on a deadly, daily basis. Their homes had to be fortresses.

Just as well I didn’t have to deliver Kevans to her front door. I was in no mood to deal with either parent. I might’ve said something about bad parenting.

Me. The world’s foremost authority.

88

Tinnie wasn’t home. An unhappy cousin told me she was at the manufactory. It was all my fault she was way behind. And now there was a rumor that the situation could get worse. She’d lost her grip on reality. Garrett could end up being underfoot all the time.

I couldn’t do anything about rumor and speculation amongst the Tates. Whatever I tried, I’d just equip myself with more holes dug deeper.

I took Kip along. He’d still been saying good night to Kyra when I got there. He didn’t want to leave. “I need you to make drawings and write up notes. Your contribution toward helping repay Mr. Weider for damages done by the Faction.”

He really didn’t want to go. If he let Kyra get out of sight, she might come to her senses.

On the short walk over, I told him, “Don’t worry about the girl. Tate women are a pain in the ass sometimes but they stick once they make their minds up.”

Which was what he wanted to hear. Though he had trouble believing it. His self-confidence was still shaky.

“I know that only helps a little. Every day that I find Tinnie still in my life I count as another miracle. I’ve never worked out what she sees in me.”

“Makes two of us.” That was a shot, weakly delivered. I took it as a good sign.

I left him outside his personal workroom at the manufactory. It was big and full of toys for a boy genius who might spark additional money gushers.

It was cold in the building. The place didn’t get warm when manufacturing wasn’t going on. It wasn’t now. The weather had kept most of the workers home.

Which meant they were making too much money. In a labor market where replacements could be had by the hundred.

Ha! Thunk like a true capitalist!

“Garrett! What are you doing here? Besides sneaking up and scaring the knickers off me?”

“Don’t look like I did that good a job. Why don’t I try charm instead?”

“I’m working hard on getting immune to that. I think I’ve almost got it. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I needed to see you. Not for the usual reasons.”

The woman can read me good. One hard look and she knew something was wrong. “All right. Spill the bad news.”

“Well...” I wasn’t sure how to tell her without sounding like I was accusing her.

“Out with it, Malsquando.” She wasn’t troubled. She’d concluded that the problem wasn’t between her and me.

“Speak!”

“You'll grant that Singe is pretty damned smart?”

“Singe is a freak. She scares me. She’s not just too smart for a ratperson, she’s too smart for anybody.”

“Good. We won’t need to debate that. So. Here’s the thing. She’s been studying the books, and...”

“And?” Eyes tight and narrow now. But still nothing to suggest that I’d tweaked a guilty nerve.

“She found a problem with the financials from the manufactory.”

Tinnie seemed surprised. “How so? What kind of problem? Tell me.”

“You might have to talk to her direct to really get it.” I jumped in, the best I understood what I’d been told.

I didn’t need to go on long. “Stop. Did she show you examples?”

I told her what I’d seen.

Tinnie was an angry woman suddenly. With the fire under fierce control.

“You believe me?”

“Of course I believe you! Why the hell would you make up a story like that? What I need to do now is figure out if it’s true, or if Singe’s imagination ran away with her. Go sit in the corner and don’t disturb me.”

I couldn’t resist. “You mean I don’t get to lean over your shoulder, jostle your elbow, blow in your ear, and criticize while you’re trying to get some work done?”

The black look I got for that actually scared me. No good for the goose, good for the gander in this house. But she was still in that fierce, hard, rational state of anger. “Better yet, go wander around and make the night crew nervous.”

I didn’t need to watch over her shoulder. Not that having me there could stop her fudging anything she wanted. I wouldn’t notice.

“I'll do that.” I went. I made a tour of the shops. And won a full complement of growls and scowls from the few workers actually on hand. I counted the three-wheels in various stages of completion. Twenty-eight, total, of which eleven were ready for delivery. I grabbed one and went pedaling around the main floor.

After getting chewed out by a foreman who wasn’t impressed by my connections, I put the big, silly toy back and went upstairs to make Kip’s life miserable. But he didn’t mind the company. We talked for more than an hour, of cabbages, kings, vampires, zombies, and our respective female complications. He wouldn’t talk about Kevans or the compliance device, though.

I dropped a few seeds for thought. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to get them out of his head.

The boy was working the nerve up to go for some intimate advice when Tinnie stalked in, saving me the need to examine my conscience. I hoped she hadn’t heard anything troubling.

“Singe is right, Garrett. Grab your coat. We'll go down to your place. We can put our heads together.”

She was tired and frayed and distracted. She knew what was going on and who was doing it and didn’t want it to be true.

It would be family. Tates are big on family. And, given that assumption, I could name the villain. Rose Tate, bad cousin.

It had been a long time since Rose had done anything wicked.

“There’s a good chance Singe won’t still be up.”

“Then there’s a good chance I'll wake her up. Or I'll talk to her in the morning.”

Oh boy! I left Kip with a parting smirk. Then I turned right back. “I need those drawings and papers to show Mr. Weider.”

Kip gave them up reluctantly, and only because he knew I wouldn’t steal the ideas.

As we hit the cold and darkness, my sweetie asked, “What was that with Kip?”

“He came up with a couple ways to light the World without smelly lamps, candles, or torches.” Which meant the theater could operate any time, not just when the sun was available.

That wasn’t what Tinnie wanted to know. She suspected me of giving manly advice.

Singe was awake. And still worrying the problem that interested Tinnie. She’d made headway winkling out the wicked numbers. So I lost the redhead for a while. Dean, though, had turned in. I drew me a mug of beer and went into my little office.

A dragon. How do you deal with a dragon with any hope of avoiding calamity?

89

Singe wakened us. “John Stretch is on his way. So is Playmate. Joe Kerr and his siblings will do your shoveling for you. You’d better hurry if you want breakfast before we go.”

Tinnie wouldn’t let me out of bed.

Breakfast had to wait.

No one else dillydallied. John Stretch, his rats, his henchrats, and his transportation all failed to wait. Dean’s lips were pursed in abiding disapproval when we finally reached the kitchen.

He had been good enough to keep our breakfasts warm.

Tinnie didn’t eat much. “I have to show my uncles.” She waved papers copied from Singe’s collection. “My copies. We made them before we went to bed.”

I’d already been dead asleep. She hadn’t wakened me. “Copies?”

“This got past me, Garrett. Maybe because I didn’t want to see it. It took a ratgirl to notice. I know you. You'll tell Max. I want to be there. To try to explain. To intercede, if I can.”

Intercede? The Tates would keep rescuing Rose till she scuttled them all. Yes. Max was fond of Tinnie. She stifled Alyx’s worst impulses. Her presence might soften his rage enough for me to make my case. “All right. Good on you.”