I didn’t get the girl. A couple, three years ago she had been hell on wheels, acting in her role as high priestess of a screw-ball country cult, hiding out from religious enemies. But she’d always been pathologically shy around me. Which, as Kyra had told her, was totally Tinnie’s fault.
I asked, “You talked to them?”
“Sure.”
I blew my nose. “How did that work?”
“Bird just lets the voice take over. Then I talk to the ghost. It doesn’t last long. Bird only lets them talk so people will know he’s telling the truth.”
I made myself stay calm. I had to keep the intensity down. Penny would trample Playmate trying to get away if I tripped her panic response. “I’d sure like to see that.” Penny did not volunteer to arrange it. “Who do the voices belong to?”
“Dead people. People who were murdered. Awful people, mostly.”
I once spent time in a relationship with a woman who had been murdered when I was a child. I met her ghost as an adult. I had no trouble with Penny’s notion. “Do tell.”
“Tell what? That the ones I talked to sounded like they got what they had coming? That’s what drives Bird crazy. He has these whiny haunts, who deserved what they got, insisting that he do things for them.”
“I’ve got it.” Not only did the Bird have to deal with ghosts, his spooks belonged to that select crew who think they are more special than anyone else and should get special treatment always, in the main because they survived childbirth.
In TunFaire these leeches tend to come to a bad end early, though their survivability has improved since the war’s end.
Once upon a time the body politic shed its parasites in the cauldron of the Cantard. They could be counted on to get themselves killed.
The war had had its fierce egalitarian side. There had been no buying out of it — though the clever had been able to wrangle less risky assignments. Princes and paupers, everyone took his dip in the deadly pond. Old folks were nostalgic for the days when the war kept the streets clear of loud, badly behaved, sometimes dangerous young men.
“Mr. Garrett?”
“I’m sorry. Having an old man’s moment. You’re used to Old Bones. Can he fix the Bird’s brain so he doesn’t hear those people?”
“I don’t think Bird would want that. He hates the voices. But if they aren’t pestering him and he doesn’t drink, he can’t paint.” Then she asked, “How long do you think His Honor will sleep?”
“I’ve never figured the formula out. You’d do better to ask Singe.”
“What should I do since he’s not awake?”
“What would you be doing if you weren’t hunkered down here?”
“Stuff. I don’t know. Dean and Singe both say I shouldn’t leave. Those bad people might want to get hold of someone from this house.”
“Dean is a wise man. Why don’t you help him? These past few days have been hard for him. And you can help Singe, if she needs it. I’m going to go bug her myself, right now.”
Everyone bailed when I did. Penny stayed with Dean. I saw no enthusiasm in either of them.
Singe was writing something using an Amalgamated steel tip quill. “The Dead Man’s pet girl says she talks to the ghosts that haunt the drunken artist.”
“Take him along next time you dance with the dead men. Turn them around on their mistress.”
“I’ll run it past Old Bones when he wakes up. I have some questions for you.”
“Blow your nose first. That sniffling is disgusting.”
I took care of that, and coughed up some stuff besides. “Did anyone trace the giant bottles and glass vats from that warehouse?”
“Not that I know of. The Director and the Guard aren’t keeping me in the loop. I didn’t think to ask last time the General was here. Speaking of whom, he’s late. No one else tells me anything useful, either. Including your new wrestling partner.”
“You’re leaping to conclusions. What did Old Bones get out of those villains that Block loaned us?”
“He didn’t say, officially. Unofficially, what I expected. Nothing that we didn’t already know. They were day labor.”
“Has anyone found out anything useful?”
“Not yet. You would think the resurrection men, at least, could be found. Are you bored? I’m not here to entertain you. I have work to do.”
“Hokum.” I suspected that she was crabby because her body was disgruntled because she had not mated successfully during her season.
“I had another question. The most important one. But I can’t remember what it was. Wait! Here it is. Old Bones had me chase Relway the other day to tell him about men who were watching the house. Did Relway bother to let us know who they were?”
“Not officially.”
“Unofficially?”
“General Block was informed that they belonged to the King’s Household Lifeguard. The Palace Guard. He wasn’t convinced. He thought they were really private police from the Hill.”
Either possibility was disturbing. I didn’t want to attract attention from either direction. “Not good.”
“But maybe an indication that powerful people take the situation seriously.”
I started to say something.
“If all you can do is chatter, take the woman back upstairs or go frighten Penny. I’m busy.”
“Ah, you’re no fun anymore.”
“That’s all your fault. Out.”
70
I got the last laugh.
Someone used the knocker as I exited Singe’s office. I employed the peephole, saw a fierce green eye glaring back. I opened up.
“Kyra.”
“I brought some people for you to talk to. You could maybe break this one’s leg for me while you’re at it.” She had a death grip on Kip Prose’s left arm. Kip appeared to be shackled to Kevans Algarda with an invisible chain. Kevans looked like she wanted to fight but didn’t know who to hit first. Kip had that numb look men get when they have hold of a Tate woman with her mind made up.
“You did indeed. And I’m most pleasantly surprised. How are you, Kip? We don’t see much of you at the manufactory anymore. And yourself, Miss?”
I would not mention her mother or how Strafa worried. No point throwing naphtha on the drama. “No real need for the fancy headgear, guys. His Nibs has been out cold since the other night. But wear them if that makes you comfortable. Let’s go into Singe’s office.”
Singe greeted my return with a bloody look. That evaporated once she saw the kids. She got up. “I’ll tell Dean we have more guests. Garrett, shall I make sure you aren’t disturbed by the others?”
“That would make these three more comfortable.”
Kyra said, “I told them about what’s going on and how your place is, like, a madhouse.”
“It’s getting better. We’ve got only six or seven extra bodies here today.”
One of those, Penny, arrived with tea and a heap of the cookies that Dean always brought out when young people visit. Cookies I could never find when I wanted to nick one or three for myself. Penny offered Kip and Kevans a polite smile. She had a warmer look for Kyra. When she left, Kyra told me, “That’s who you should be chasing, Garrett. She’s quiet, submissive, and young enough for you to train up right.”
“I’ll wait a while. At least till she stops peeing herself every time I look at her.”
Kip was not in a social mood. He isn’t happy when life intrudes. “Kyra says there’s stuff we need to talk about.”
“Yeah. Kevans especially. You heard any rumors about strange stuff going on?”
Kip said, “In TunFaire? You’re kidding.” But he spoke without passion and nodded in concert with Kevans as he did.
“You probably heard it wrong. Except from Kyra, who was here.”
Kip and Kevans both nodded. They were nervous but I sensed no guilt nor any defensive attitude.
“Bad things have been happening. People are trying to cover up. Others are putting out false reports. The whole thing could get u
gly in a few days.” I told them almost everything, deemphasizing the role of the Windwalker. Kevans showed no particular emotion when I mentioned her mother.
Singe returned moments after Penny left. She took notes.
Penny returned to the doorway. She wasn’t sneaking so she wasn’t exactly eavesdropping. “Penny, would you get your sketches and Bird’s portrait? Please?”
Kip said, “That’s ugly stuff, Garrett. Kyra must have sugared it.”
“She’s an amazing girl, Kip.”
“I know. I have an awful time remembering that she isn’t my imagination running wild.”
Kyra was pleased. Kevans was not, though she was not strictly a romantic rival. She and Kip strove to maintain that frog’s-fur rare boy-girl relationship where they were just good friends.
Kevans was, I noted belatedly, wearing girl clothes. She always dressed as a boy, before. She looked good as a girl but she didn’t look nearly as good as that wicked woman in black leather.
Penny brought the sketches and painting. Singe held the latter up while Penny handled her own work.
“Anybody recognize anyone?” I asked.
Kevans countered, “Is my mother still here?”
I glanced at Kyra. Butter wouldn’t melt. Then to Singe, “Miss Pular, would the Windwalker still be with us?”
Singe responded a grim rat glower. “She may be. It’s hard to say for sure. She keeps flitting in and out of the upstairs windows.”
I said, “Why do you ask, Kevans?”
“I wondered if she’s seen these.”
“I don’t know. Has she, Singe?”
Singe had a grand opportunity to be lethally catty. She let it pass. “Probably not. She will not go into the Dead Man’s room.”
Penny agreed with Singe, though we three all knew that she had seen the artwork.
I saw Kyra doing math based on the fact that Penny Dreadful had moved into the guest room while Furious Tide of Light was staying here, too.
I concentrated on Kevans.
Kyra did not let the completed equation affect her attitude.
Singe saw what I saw. She would have smirked and sneered if nature had equipped her for it. She did observe, “Life gets more complicated every day, doesn’t it?”
Kip and Kevans thought that was directed toward them. Kevans declared, “Kip and I are just friends. We challenge each other to think. There isn’t anything else going on. Really.”
Kyra did not appear to be reassured.
I thought the fact that Kevans needed to say anything might reveal something about what was going on inside her head.
I was fairly certain that in the past the relationship had been friendship with special benefits as two incredibly bright but socially inept kids struggled through the turbulence of puberty.
Whatever, these days Kip trudged along in his mentor’s trace, essentially oblivious.
Kip’s mentor took a chance and changed the subject. “Your mother is desperately frightened for you, Kevans. The Specials turned up what looks like evidence involving you in this new wickedness.”
She did a wonderful job of looking unpleasantly surprised.
I told her what Singe and the Windwalker had found in Elf Town. Singe kicked in points I overlooked. I wished the Dead Man was awake to sift the secrets I was stirring off the stream-bed of Kevans’ mind.
“They found your stuffed bear, and some other things.” Then I went fishing. “Those hairnets don’t work anymore.”
Kip squeaked like I had stepped on his toes. “That can’t be!”
“It can. Old Bones can adapt when he has time to think. The point I want to make is, you can’t hide from His Nibs anymore.”
Penny sneered. And looked me in the eye when she did.
Kip looked like he wanted to panic. Kevans was less rattled. Singe gave me an unhappy glare, thinking I had just wasted valuable household advantages.
Kevans said, “That sounds like where I hid out after we had the bug problem. I lived there almost a year.”
Kip jumped in with a pretty good description of the place. Obviously he had visited. That won no points over on the redheaded girlfriend side. The redheaded girlfriend had not known.
Kyra didn’t say anything but it was plain she was more comfortable with her aunt’s man having female friends than she was facing that situation herself.
Kip’s mouth ran. He didn’t have a clue.
Kevans and Kip being friends would offer Kyra no comfort, ever.
“So you don’t know these people?”
“No.” Kevans sounded definite.
Kip shook his head. He was less certain. “I think I would remember her.”
That got him punched from both sides.
Kyra volunteered, “I think I’ve seen the girl before.”
“She was out front the other night.”
“I know. I only got a glimpse, then. She looked like bad news.”
“She was. I learned the hard way.”
Kyra nodded at Penny’s drawings. “I mean bad news because she looks like one of those blondes who has gotten anything she ever wanted handed to her since she sprouted a set of knockers.”
That was harsh. And a touch hypocritical. Kyra Tate had been one of those girls till she developed the mental defect that bonded her to Kip.
She said, “I might’ve seen this one when I was about twelve. Some older girls were teasing me about still being flat.” Some pink behind the freckles on the cheeks, there. “The ringleader was sixteen or seventeen and very blessed. This looks like her. Sort of.”
Sounded like a long shot. “You should go over that with the Dead Man sometime. Figure out the time and place, work outward from there.”
Singe made a note.
Old Bones could sort that out in seconds.
Kyra said, “If you think it’s worth it I can probably figure it out. I have a good memory for people who misuse me.”
I hoped Kip heard that.
His sins, though, would be of omission, not commission. If he messed up with Kyra it would be out of blind ignorance.
I told all the youngsters, “Let’s look at the man. He may be the boss of the resurrection men. Any of you know anything about him?”
No, still, though I’m sure Kevans saw the resemblance to Barate Algarda. She kept sneaking looks.
“Another hope dashed. Kevans. Kip. Please talk to me about the warehouse in Elf Town.”
Kyra eyed Kip in a way that made it plain she wanted to hear more, too.
Kevans was getting tired of all this. “I hid out there for a year. I told you. I left when I stopped feeling like I had to hide.”
“I’m not interested in that. But why hide there? That’s a far piece for a kid off the Hill.”
“I’d been there before. With my grandmother. She owned it. It was empty and starting to fall apart. I think she sold it but nobody ever used it.”
I worked some calculations. Strafa had borne Kevans at a very young age. Strafa’s mother had died when Strafa was a child. I had met her ghost. Kevans must have been talking about Barate Algarda’s mother.
“Anything unusual happen while you were there?”
“Nothing to do with what you’re fussing about.”
Kip backed her up. “I used to smuggle food and stuff. It was all sad for a while.”
“Singe, make a note to ask the General if his forensic sorcerers went over that warehouse. And what they found out about the glassware.”
“You asked already. He told you he got warned off.”
“Even so. He and Relway haven’t really backed off. If they could blame the poking around on us, they’d be even happier.”
“We should not be discussing that right now.”
No. I should be jumping all over the youngsters. They were gaining confidence as they grew more certain that the Dead Man was sleeping.
The look I sent Singe was one of appeal. I had emptied my toolbox when it came to interrogating kids.
Singe understood.<
br />
She left her desk. She left the room. A moment later Morley appeared, assisted by Penny. He settled onto a folding chair. He stared at Kevans from the side. He is better than I am at reading females.
Dollar Dan, who must have been in the kitchen with Dean, filled up the doorway. He could be amazingly intimidating when he wanted. But he wasn’t the onager Singe meant to bring to bear.
71
Furious Tide of Light arrived. She did not look like anyone’s mother. She did not look like anyone’s wannabe girlfriend, either. She had on the full power of what she was. I had not seen her in that mode before.
Kevans curled into herself, mentally, like an armadillo. You could almost hear bacon crackling when the Windwalker looked at Kip. Kyra gaped, astonished and thoroughly intimidated. Only Penny seemed undisturbed. She stood out of the way, watched, and learned.
The girl was getting scary. I began to picture her as a human version of Pular Singe. It was in the blood. Her father had been Chodo Contague.
She and Belinda had nothing whatsoever to do with one another.
The Windwalker, when she spoke, was gentle, with the conviction of a whip. “Are you two clear on how foul a crime has been committed? What is happening has had no equal for two hundred years.”
Strafa considered the drawings and painting. “This isn’t a game.” She stopped. She didn’t want to challenge the kids. Adolescents will push back even when they’re dead wrong.
Still, she asked, “What have you been holding back?”
Headshakes I suspected of being less than completely sincere. My sense, though, was that the insincerity had to do with Kip and Kevans rather than with knowledge of horrible crimes. Their friendship might have a more experimental angle than either wanted brought out in front of her mother or his girlfriend. Both lived lonely lives. They had been friends for a long time.
Everyone caught some taste of that possibility. But that wasn’t why we had gotten together. I would overrule should the discussion start to slide that way.
I exchanged glances with Singe. If ever there was a time for the Dead Man to be on the job, this was it.
Kevans continued to wilt under her mother’s scowl. That the Windwalker was her mother did not matter. What did was that one of the most ferocious and talented magic users alive might be displeased by the behavior of one rogue teen.