Authors: Glen Cook
She reached for her pipe. Morley pushed it out of reach. If she was addicted, she would cooperate more fully if he kept that carrot dangling just out of reach.
Morley said, “Get a ring on Singe’s finger before she gets any older or cleverer, Garrett. She played not just you but the Dead Man this time.”
“Wouldn’t have a coin on you, would you?”
“She’s wearing a silver wristlet. So is the woman.”
So was the woman. They weren’t shapechangers. “Tama. You want to tell me something?”
“The fortune everyone thinks I got. I didn’t. They knew. They found it. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be when I got there.” Tama’s eyes wouldn’t focus but her brain seemed sharp enough. “They only left the silver I took and the opium I bought as an investment. They expect me to destroy myself for them.”
I had a mind like a razor tonight. I saw the answer she’d give me before I asked but I asked anyway. “And who might ‘they’ be?”
“The shapeshifters. The Dragons.”
Maybe. But I didn’t think so. More likely the Wolves hoping Tama would think Dragons and point a finger that way when she got caught.
Why would the Dragons leave opium behind? It has value even it it’s not popular. It can be exported. There’s a good market in Venageta.
“But you got all of the shifters, didn’t you?” Morley asked me, in as close to a whine as I’d ever heard pass his lips.
“No. We missed at least one. For a while I thought that one might be North English. I figured he really did die the night he was attacked.” It had taken only a slight adjustment of viewpoint, coupled with recollections of odd behavior, particularly at the Weider place when Marengo steadfastly avoided joining the rest of us on the main floor, to make me intensely suspicious. I’d decided he must’ve wanted to avoid running into Singe and her marvelous nose. There’d been other indicators, too, but once I cleared my head, lay back, considered nothing else, I’d been forced to conclude that the Marengo who had returned to The Pipes the morning after the aborted Cleansing could not have been a shapeshifter
—
much as I might want to stick him with something. But I was just as sure that he was supposed to have been killed. That he was supposed to have been replaced after he was attacked, that he was supposed to return home apparently badly injured as a means of covering and explaining the differences betrayed by the replacement as he took control of The Call. I had a feeling he might have gone into seclusion temporarily while Tama Montezuma relayed his orders to everyone exactly as she had done with the Brotherhood Of The Wolf. I had a strong suspicion that Marengo’s bacon really did get saved by marauding dwarves, contemplation of which irony, ranged alongside various betrayals by supposed true believers, explained North English’s newfound spirituality. Only I couldn’t quite buy that, either. Maybe because it didn’t satisfy my prejudices. Maybe because there were still loose ends.
I kept telling myself that there are always loose ends. Where there are people involved nothing ever wraps up neatly. Truth becomes more elusive than leprechauns. Hell, I’ve downed a few beers with leprechauns. Truth, when I run into it, often is dressed up in a cunning disguise.
“This is new,” I told Tama, gesturing at her opium paraphernalia, pushing her pipe a little farther when she reached for it again. “Was Marengo supposed to be replaced the night he was attacked? You knew about the shapeshifters, didn’t you? You were already working for Glory Mooncalled by then.”
She tried to ignore my questions by focusing on her addiction. She continued to try for the pipe. I could almost hear it talking to her. She whined, “They forced me. They knew what I was planning. Gerris must have told them.” She showed no contrition as she confirmed my suspicions by adding, “Gerris thought he was going to go with me when I went away.”
“It was you outside the Weider front door the night Genord killed Lancelyn Mac.” It struck me like a lightning bolt. Of course.
Tama nodded. “Gerris figured it out. He was extremely upset. We were arguing. Then the cripple and the other one appeared and Gerris made up a stupid story to cover himself but the one who came to the door saw me... I didn’t take them seriously enough. They did this to me. To get even.”
“By ‘they’ you mean Genord’s friends, right? The Brotherhood Of The Wolf?” I intended to take her confession with a twelve-pound grain of salt. The woman was a professional liar and now at that stage where she would try to lay the blame on anyone she could make fit.
“Marengo made up with them after he almost got killed. They were thrilled. They were ready to do anything —”
“Tama, don’t bother. Your head’s not clear enough. You can’t make up believable stories. Marengo couldn’t have made up with the Wolves. He was far too angry with them. What they’d done could destroy all his work. It could destroy The Call. He didn’t know anything for sure until that last night at the Weider mansion but I’ll bet he had some strong suspicions. Not exactly on the mark, because he was terrified by Perilous Spite, but close enough to worry you. When did Glory Mooncalled recruit you? I’m sure you didn’t fight hard. Then you got your talons into him exactly the way you had Marengo and Gerris and your other accomplices. Didn’t you?”
A spark of honesty. “Men are such idiots, Garrett. Especially older men.”
A point. A good point. I propose the thesis that the span of time during which a man can be manipulated via his appreciation of a woman shrinks as he ages, because eventually — when he’s been through it a few times — reality sets in ever more swiftly after the initial rush. “You say the Wolves did this to you?”
“Yes.” Of course there were Wolves out there who hadn’t been captured, who hadn’t been sought, and more who had been released when the rest of the Hill turned on Perilous Spite.
“Just minutes ago you said the Dragons took everything.”
“They did. Before things fell apart. The Wolves found me and did this to me and then hid me here so Marengo wouldn’t find me until it was too late.”
Could I believe this any more than her claim that North English and the Wolves had gotten back into bed?
Singe touched my arm lightly. “The opium is their revenge.”
Tama began to weep. Her hands wouldn’t stay still. “I made a mistake once. Long ago. When life was very cruel. I told Gerris about how’d I’d broken the habit afterward but I still craved it almost every day. When the Wolves came they knew. They forced me. In Gerris’ name. It took them very little time to get me going again. But they left me only this much opium. And only this much money. So when the opium runs out and craving gets so bad I start throwing up and suffering cramps and screaming about things coming after me out of my memories, I’ll have to go out looking for an opium seller. That time isn’t far off now. And I don’t know any opium sellers. It will take me a while to find one. It will take Marengo less time to find me. I don’t expect him to be in a forgiving mood.”
That rang true. But a lot of people were looking for Tama Montezuma, not just Marengo North English. And Tama Montezuma stood out. Somebody would get her.
Avengers try to be as cruel as their imaginations allow. Not many soft-hearted men survive to become the breed who make up groups like the Wolves.
“What about Glory Mooncalled and his friends?”
“I don’t know. He must have run away. The Wolves. They’re going to destroy Marengo. Because they think he betrayed them. Because the lying weasel really did keep them together and did send them underground. Then he never did anything with them. I was using them when I gave them orders. Singe thought you should know. I don’t care anymore. TunFaire can burn to the ground. The world will end when I die anyway.”
Morley muttered, “A solipsist in despair. Interesting.”
“I still care,” Singe told her.
I wondered how much of this the Dead Man knew or had reasoned out without bothering to tell me. I also wondered why so many people had been able to dodge around His Nibs. Was he starting to fail? Or was it just the way the dice had come up? The unlikely does happen.
My life is a testament to that possibility.
“How many of those changers were there?” Morley asked. “Do you have any idea how many are still running around loose?”
Tama shrugged. Her hands remained busy, crawling all over her, but her eyes had glazed over. We weren’t going to get anything more from her until she’d smoked a pipe and then had had time to ease back out from behind a veil of dreams that were sweeter than life.
Dotes muttered, “We’ll end up all having to wear silver amulets if this doesn’t get wrapped up soon.”
He had a point. I didn’t have to invest much imagination to foresee a future in which — if the shifters reproduced successfully — a silver test would be part of every transaction. Every home that could afford them would have silver and spells worked into its doorways. The price of silver would soar. “We’ll find out. I know who’ll know.” The Dead Man had been inside Glory Mooncalled’s head. Mooncalled would’ve known exactly how many shapeshifters had come to TunFaire. We could work it out from there.
“What shall we do with her?” Morley asked. Singe watched me with big eyes, as though this was some kind of test. I had a feeling I would disappoint her.
“I still owe Max Weider. She chose the targets. She sent the killers.”
I considered my first night at The Pines. That night visitor with the knife might have been Carter Stockwell thinking about settling up. Might have been. But it might have been Tama Montezuma with a special surprise for the troublesome fellow who turned up just as she was about to take over The Call completely.
Separate bedrooms, eh? I owed that little sneak Tinnie an extra kiss. No telling what I’d have gotten myself into if she hadn’t been there.
Right now Miss Montezuma looked like the ideal gift for a friend in the secret policeman racket. Nor did Morley demur, she no longer having any fiscal capacity for arousing his sympathy. Singe did feel for her, as for a sister in despair, but even she wasn’t prepared to excuse the evils Tama had wrought — of which those known to us were likely to be only a fraction.
113
I sent a note asking Lieutenant Nagit to visit me when next his duties brought him into the city. I received a polite, formal reply to the effect that he was under instructions to have nothing further to do with me. Insofar as Marengo North English and The Call were concerned we had nothing to say to one another anymore.
I didn’t try again. I took it up with Max while I was helping interview prospective employees. Morley tagged along and stood around looking bored. Probably because what I was doing was as dull as watching rocks mate.
Nicks sent Lieutenant Nagit an invitation to dine with the Weiders. To no one’s surprise but hers Nagit not only showed up, he arrived early, polished till he shone, reeking of rosewater, a bouquet of posies in hand. He was less than thrilled to discover that he’d share the dinner table with me and my feathered haunt but chose to endure the bad with the good.
The Goddamn Parrot attached himself to Nicks as soon as I went over to the mansion, early in the afternoon. They were made for each other, those two. Why couldn’t they see it themselves?
Nagit never scowled once at Tinnie or Alyx. He didn’t know what to make of Morley since they’d never been introduced. Morley paid him no attention. Dotes was charming to Alyx and all her male relatives. Nagit had no trouble with Max or Gilbey or Ty, either, so it had to be the way I parted my hair. Or something. But he was coldly courteous to me at best.
The servants brought dinner all at once, instead of in courses, then withdrew, except for Neersa Bintor, who made sure the kitchen door stayed closed. She kept her giant maul in hand.
There was little conversation while we ate, though the lovely ladies all tried to get something going, each in her own unique way.
Max growled, “Get on with it, Garrett.” He’d barely nibbled his venison and had touched nothing else at all.
I made a small gesture. Morley excused himself from the table. He and Neersa Bintor left the room. With no apology for tricking him I said, “Mr. Nagit, we have one final problem. One more shapeshifter to expose.” Now that he had demonstrated that
he
could eat using real silverware, off real silver plates. “Process of elimination says it’s inside The Call now. For a while I thought it had replaced your boss. Then I decided it hadn’t. You’ve just demonstrated that it couldn’t be you... Yes, boss.” Max had begun to glower. He wanted me to get on with it.
I said, “If it wasn’t Marengo, I wouldn’t much care — except that having a shapechanger inside The Call means Glory Mooncalled still has a foothold there. A reliable witness tells me that Mooncalled has become an evil old man with terrible plans. This shifter could help Mooncalled do truly wicked things to TunFaire.
Then
I realized that even though Marengo hadn’t been replaced by a shifter, the way I’d worked it out at first, back when he was attacked, he still could’ve been later, at The Pipes, in the last week or so. But why should I care? Marengo is Mr. Weider’s friend. They went through the Cantard together. And Max is my friend. So I arranged to get you here so I could fill your head with my suspicions. You can deal with the threat to the friend of my friend. You can find the last shapeshifter. The one who left us wondering what happened to Tollie and the one-mitted thunder-lizard lover.”
“Venable.”
Morley and Neersa ushered Tama and Singe and a short, incredibly ugly little woman into the room. Montezuma was more frightened than the ratgirl was. She had been in the clutches of the Guard for twenty hours, with nary a whiff of opium. The short woman pretended to be a terrified servant of some sort. Nobody bothered to explain her presence. I stifled a grin.
Relway made one truly repulsive woman. But he’d insisted that he couldn’t loan out his prisoner if he couldn’t come along himself. I hadn’t had the nerve to disappoint the head of the secret police — particularly when I had no good reason to shut him out.
I do believe he nurtured some idea of making a connection and being invited to The Pipes with Lieutenant Nagit.