Authors: Glen Cook
Still avoiding my gaze, she reached for the Goddamn Parrot. That critter remained deadweight. Maybe when I wasn’t looking somebody did stuff him and nail him to my shoulder. Maybe some wicked sorcerer cast a spell on him. Thank you very much. “Pretty,” Singe said.
“You want him?”
She looked at the ground, shook her head in quick little rolling jerks, then scooted away. Mr. Big has to be the most unwanted creature in this whole wide world. I can’t get anybody to take him.
Singe made less sound departing than her unaltered cousins might have. The noise she’d made approaching must have been deliberate.
Morley materialized. “Another Garrett conquest.”
“What?”
“Maybe it was just an illusion cast by that devil moonlight but these elven eyes saw Miss Pular Singe, brilliant young ratwoman, acting as smitten as any other teenager with a crush.” He giggled. “You’d make a great team.”
The curse again? I shook my head vigorously. No rat would find anything redeeming in me. Or vice versa.
Morley kept right on snickering. This was delicious. He lingered over wedding plans and what to name the children. “Or would you call them pups?”
“Let’s get on with this,” I grumped. “Before we’re all too old to keep up.”
“This is rich, Garrett. Now I remember why I liked being part of your adventures. They create so many memories for those lonely winter nights.”
He exaggerated. I think. Elves — even breeds like him — just don’t think the way us humans do.
56
“Whenever you stop snickering,” I said.
“You armed?”
“Only with my wits. Never mind the cracks.” I wished I hadn’t left that little crossbow back at the Weider place.
“Take this.” He offered me a small, flat-handled dagger I hadn’t seen on him anywhere. No doubt he was lugging a whole arsenal not evident to the naked eye. He was such a prankster. He’d have a trebuchet on him somewhere. “Don’t it seem awfully quiet in there?”
It sure did. Crask and Sadler really had it in for Belinda. A scream or two would have been reassuring. There’d still be somebody to rescue. “Think they killed her already?”
“Maybe. But let’s be careful anyway.”
“Good plan. After you.”
He didn’t argue. I had him at a disadvantage now. His night vision was better than mine. He had no sound tactical argument against leading the way
—
if we had to go at all.
Once we were close enough to make out details it was obvious that the mausoleum’s builders had belonged to one of our more bizarre early religions. The doorway was surrounded by carvings of fabulous creatures who glorified ugly. I plucked the Goddamn Parrot off my shoulder, planted him on an outcrop. Maybe he could go for help.
“But for the color he fits right in.” And the breathing part. I didn’t clue him in, though. He might pick this exact moment to express one of his vulgar opinions.
Dotes grinned, revealing a lot of sharp white teeth.
Enough moonlight leaked into the mausoleum for Morley to see that no one lurked immediately beyond the doorway. He reached back, touched me, found the lantern, tapped it. I cracked the shutter. We’d stirred up a little dust already. The wedge of light swept around like a flaming sword.
It revealed nothing startling.
Morley pointed downward. There was evidence of recent traffic in the leaves and trash that had blown in over the years.
I fought back a sneeze.
Dotes kept moving. I kept a glimmer of light splashing out to probe the way. Even Morley can’t see in complete darkness. Again I wondered if Crask and Sadler hadn’t set me up. They knew I was a white knight dumb enough to roll the dice with death over a damsel in distress.
The trail in the rubbish ran straight to a wall. “Damn!” I muttered. “Not another secret door. How come people think they can pull that off?”
But it wasn’t one of those. The builder hadn’t been trying to fool anybody. This door was a massive wooden job. I stabbed its huge hinges with my sword of light. Our friends hadn’t oiled them. They wouldn’t operate quietly.
Morley shrugged, bounced into place beside the door, whispered, “Let’s go.”
What the hell. Might as well. It was only Crask and Sadler on the other side of that damned thing. Only a couple of superhuman, demi-demon, stone killers. A pair of walking nightmares. No big deal at all. Did it all the time.
I grabbed the rusty ring and heaved.
A slab of human meat the size of a small barn tipped out and crashed at my feet. One of the villains. I had no time to find out which.
Morley slugged him in the temple with the pommel of a dagger cousin to the one he’d loaned me. Air left the huge killer in a sigh, like he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted to lie down and sleep right now.
“Garrett?” The voice was weak but definitely Belinda’s.
“I’m here.”
A piglike grunt from the darkness preceded the wobbly rush of a pallid behemoth bigger than the leviathan snoring at my feet. A hand like a ham floated out of the darkness, grabbed me, flung me at the voice just starting to tell me to look out. There were grunts behind me, slaps and thumps and a growl of pain. Morley is good but he didn’t get the best of this exchange. Brute force sometimes smothers style. Dotes cursed as he flew my way, apparently in the feet superior mode. He crashed into the mess on the floor before I could get my own feet under me again. The door slammed a moment later. I hit it with my shoulder an instant after that.
There can’t be any nightmare worse than mine about being buried alive.
The door gave a little. I let out a mad-sorcerer cackle and hit it again. Something bashed it from the other side. The shock shot from my shoulder down to my toes and back. Crask cussed me and Sadler at the same time. “Get up! Get up!” he raged at his sidekick. His voice was feeble. Between them Two Toes, Carlyle, and Peckwood had dinged him badly and hurt Sadler even worse.
I shoved. Crask shoved back. “Give me a hand, Morley!” The lantern’s shutter was all the way open, shining on the ceiling and showing me Morley making points with Belinda by asking if she was all right.
“Of course I’m not all right, you moron!” she snarled. “I’m lucky. They passed out before they could torture me much. Help Garrett. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life here, eating raw mice.” Her voice was feeble but her will remained unflagging. She was a razor-edged chip off the old Contague flint.
Crask wedged something against the door. We banged into it until my shoulder ached. We moved it a fraction of an inch each time, till Morley was able to weasel through. He muttered continuously. This adventure was playing hell with his outfit.
He flung the blockage aside. I stalked out. Belinda clung to my left arm. She had no choice. She had no strength left. She grunted with every step. Crask and Sadler had given her a taste of joys to come.
We hit the moonlight. “What now, dauntless sidekick?” Morley asked. “We don’t have a tracker anymore. You should have kissed her. She would’ve hung around forever.”
“I did what I wanted to do. I got Belinda back.” It was time to head home. Only, what were the chances I would run into Crask and Sadler in such reduced circumstances ever again? Less than zip. I grabbed the Goddman Parrot. “Which way did they go, bird?”
His Highness did not deign to speak.
A silent bird wasn’t a problem I’d ever expected to face.
I was worried about the Dead Man. I’d heard nothing for too long. He should have been nagging me mercilessly.
He’d shown that he couldn’t read shapechangers close up. Maybe they got to him while I was busy at Weider’s. If one could pretend to be me long enough to get Dean to open the door...
Morley whispered, “Didn’t we decide that Relway would have a man watching?”
“I counted on it when we went in there.” Sort of.
“Then wouldn’t you guess that Relway will know where those two went?”
Probably, come to think. But would he let me know if I asked? Relway just might discover that he had some use for Crask and Sadler no one else could appreciate. I said, “They’ll never be weaker. And you know they never forgive and forget.”
Morley patted my arm. “Good to see my wisdom finally taking root. But Belinda is in no shape to chase anybody.”
Belinda snapped, “Belinda will keep up! Belinda is in better shape than either of them. And Belinda’s got another score to settle.” Whereupon her legs melted and she had to grab a handy tombstone. “I don’t want to hear a word, Garrett.” Her voice didn’t waver.
Something stirred out in the darkness. It trailed the faintest whisper of disturbed grass. It headed the direction Crask and Sadler must have gone. Dotes and I exchanged glances. I asked Belinda, “Where were you headed when they grabbed you? They meant to catch you on your way home, only you —”
“No. They were waiting on the way to your house. Originally. They were really pissed off because you didn’t take me home. They wanted us both.”
“Lucky for both of us I had to work, then. Eh?”
“Yeah? Isn’t it?” Belinda didn’t sound like she believed that in her heart, though.
“Where were you going?” I asked again.
She hesitated, then admitted, “To The Palms. People from the reception were going to meet there.”
“Oh.” Neutrally, recalling that she had spoken to Marengo North English in parting and he had seemed surprised. None of my business, though. Except that later the same gentleman had seemed quite unhappy about being at The Palms with his delectable niece. I asked Morley, “You want to take her back to your place?” She would be safe there, if she wanted to be.
“You’re not going after them alone?” Morley’s tone told me nothing I did would ever surprise him. Maybe because this wouldn’t be stupider than anything I’d ever done before.
“I’m not going after them. They’re Relway’s now.” For now.
I was very worried about the Dead Man.
57
There was no deadly silence in my neighborhood. The night people were out in force and they were busy. Commerce was king. No political dialogue was under way. I exchanged greetings with those I knew. There was no tension in the air. Nobody seemed interested in my movements. A stroll around the area didn’t uncover anyone watching my house.
Even Mrs. Cardonlos was otherwise occupied.
I got a strange feeling as I climbed my steps. Not like something was wrong. No. It was more like something was missing. An emptiness I hadn’t felt for years. “What’s the story here?” I asked the Goddman Parrot. This close he had no excuse for being out of touch.
The bird was stubborn. He still refused to talk.
“Old Bones?” I tried my key. Miracle of miracles, Dean didn’t have any bolts bolted or chains chained. I shoved the door, cocked an ear to the silent darkness.
The house didn’t feel right.
It was darker than a priest’s heart in there. Dean hadn’t refilled the feeble lamp we leave burning in the hallway. I hoped he had a fire in the stove so I could light it again. I’m not big on flint and steel, though I manage if I have to. It was way too late to go mooching from the neighbors.
I felt the wall till I found the lamp. I took it and headed for the kitchen, carefully. There was no knowing what Dean would leave lying around.
I completed my pilgrimage without getting hurt.
The stove was warm. I dug in, found some live coals, got a kitchen lamp burning so I could find the oil to fill the hall lamp. Its wick needed trimming but I was bone-tired. I would mention it to Dean tomorrow.
Tinnie would be cussing me big-time now, I figured. I ought to start rehearsing my apologies.
Once I had a light I took the Goddamn Parrot to the small front room. He was just aware enough to move to his perch. Maybe he was worn-out, too.
I put the hall lamp in its bracket and shoved into the Dead Man’s room. “All right, Chuckles. What’s the story? If you’ve gone to sleep on me I’m gonna...”
He hadn’t gone to sleep on me. Not this time. No way.
What he’d done was, he’d gone missing.
For a while I stood there with my mouth open. Then I retrieved the hall lamp and prowled the Dead Man’s room like maybe a quarter ton of moth-eaten corpse might have gotten lost amongst the dust bunnies. I faced the unusual and weird as a matter of course but this was beyond comprehension.
The Dead Man was gone? How? He couldn’t have gotten up and walked. Nor could Dean have carried him.
There were no signs of a struggle. There would’ve been had he been abducted.
He was just gone.
Dean was going to get rousted out after all.
No, Dean wasn’t.
He didn’t respond to my knock. “You awake, Dean? I need to talk.” I pushed his door open hoping I didn’t get him started cranking.
His room was empty.
It wasn’t just untenanted or deserted, it was barren. Not one scrap of clothing or stick of furniture remained.
“My gods! They’ve eloped!” I didn’t imagine Dean. When I imagine people I pick them put together like Tinnie or Nicks or Tama Montezuma.
I petitioned the air with the intensity of an actor in a passion play, “What the hell is going on?” A waste of time. I’d asked already and hadn’t gotten an answer.
I went back down to the kitchen. A hasty inventory left me baffled. I made something to eat, drew a beer off the keg in the cold well, shuffled around the ground floor balancing food, drink, and lamp while I searched for messages or clues.
I found nothing. Not even a
Dear Garrett
note.
“Hell with it,” I grumbled. “Hell with them. Hell with everybody.” I dragged myself up to bed, enumerating the names of everyone who ought to join the infernal pilgrimage.
I don’t recall lying down.
58
I don’t recall getting up. My first clear thought surfaced when somebody groaned in pain. A moment later I realized that the groaner was right there in my bedroom and he was making those noises with my dried-out mouth. Then it dawned: The pain was caused by sunburn of the backs of the eyeballs. I was staring out at a morning where the gods, or devils, of daylight were putting on one of the great sunshine shows of all time.