Dread Brass Shadows (26 page)

“Not before I find out who wants me watched.” I had ideas. Gnorst Gnorst seemed a likely candidate. Backup for his ground-bound dwarves. The kind of thing a dwarf would do. Cover every angle possible. I figured Chodo a likely candidate, too. He was cunning enough to see that morCartha would go unsuspected.

There had been morCartha aloft when I’d met with Sadler. Maybe Chodo ought to be number one on my list. “Thanks for the tip.”

“One on me. For letting me come along tonight.”

I hadn’t planned it to go that way, but now I knew that I had to take a legitimate shot at Chodo I didn’t mind as much. Any friend is better than no friend.

Again I wondered where the hell Morley and Saucerhead were. That was becoming a big worry, but events kept pushing it further and further down my list.

Winger considered Eleanor again. “You had something going with her, didn’t you?”

How to answer that one? If I said yes, there might be more questions and I might end up mentioning that she’d been dead twenty years before I’d met her—and not like the Dead Man is dead. How to explain an affair of the heart with the ghost of someone who died when you were a child? “Something. I don’t know what you’d call it and I sure can’t explain it.”

“That picture explains it good enough.”

She was seeing everything that madman Bradon put into it. Would she ever stop surprising me?

“I can understand you not wanting to talk about it. So. What say we get going? I got some things lined up, give us an edge. You got to have an edge. You in any shape for this?”

She was nervous. She was getting close to chattering, which was how it showed. “Hell, no, I’m not. But I have to take my shot. If people haven’t lied to me too much, tonight’s the only night I’ll ever have half a chance of doing what I’ve got to do.” I told her about the supposed party.

“There’s our edge right there. Even if the guy knows we’re coming, he’s giving up some advantage if he doesn’t cancel his party.”

Chodo wouldn’t. He was a character who wouldn’t let the gods themselves nudge him into changing his plans. “Guess we take what we can get.” I was getting more down by the minute.

“Won’t get nothing done sitting here.”

“Sure. Back in a jiffy.” I went across and got the amulet stone from the Dead Man’s room, wondering what the hell a jiffy was. He didn’t have anything to say. I rolled upstairs and outfitted myself as well as I could from my depleted arsenal. I included the little padded case with the bottles. This was no time to wimp out. I’d do what I had to.

Winger awaited me in the office doorway, eyes sort of glazed. I frowned. She’d had another run-in with the Dead Man. What now? I didn’t ask.

Being a born gentleman, I opened and held the front door for her. Even if she was a Saucerhead type in physical drag. She stepped outside. “You hang on here.”

“What?”

She eyed the street. “Wait here.” She took off down the steps and up the street Fast. She ran without throwing her arms and legs all over, the way so many women do.

I closed the door and leaned against the wall, trying to stay awake, trying to avoid thinking about my aches and pains.

A knock. I peeked Winger’s eye stared back at me. She backed off only far enough for me to see her grin. I opened up.

She had a dwarf slung over her shoulder, out cold. “He was a feisty little bugger “

“Huh?”

“He was watching your place. Thought you might want to talk to him before we shove off.”

“Bring him back here.” I led the way to the Dead Man’s room. “Hey, Chuckles. You want to take a look at this and tell me what we’ve got?”

A dwarf.

“What an eye. Could you maybe give me a little something more?”

He has been watching the house for about three hours. My old friend Gnorst sent him. I will send him back bearing a strong protest.

“Wonderful. You do that Why was he on us?”

In case you locate the Book of Dreams, I presume.

“Anything else useful?”

He was selected for his lack of direct knowledge.

Naturally. Gnorst knew the Dead Man. Wasn’t much point putting the little hairball through the wringer. “See you later, then.”

Have you come to an accommodation with your conscience?

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” He got a chuckle out of that. Right. My moral discomfitures always amuse him. He’d have no trouble slicing Chodo into cold cuts.

“I can do it. The alternative is unacceptable.”

A sneer radiated from that pile of lifeless lard.

“He’s the one made it him or me.”

You need not justify. The day has been inevitable for some time. He and I knew. Mr. Dotes and Mr. Tharpe knew. Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler knew. Only you insisted on pretending otherwise.

Hell, I’d known it, too. I’d hoped it would come to a more clear-cut case of good guy against bad guy, though.

Take care, Garrett.

“I plan to.”

41

I followed Winger once we hit the street, lost in my own thoughts. After a few blocks, she asked, “You scared?”

“Yes.” I was. Nothing to be ashamed of. A body who wasn’t afraid of a Chodo Contague was a damned fool. Or worse.

“Thought you were a heavyweight tough guy.”

“I eat nails with acid on them for breakfast, Then I kick thunder-lizards around for my morning workout. Hell, I’m so tough I don’t change my socks but once a month. But tough don’t help when the kingpin is after you and your only pal can’t get out of his chair to help.”

She was amused

I asked, “You sure you know who Chodo is?”

“Sure. Bad mojo” She laughed. “Doing him will be good for my reputation.”

“His reputation doesn’t bother you?”

“Who needs to live forever?”

I slipped the little padded case out of my pocket. I eyed those little bottles. The red one, the deadliest, seemed to sparkle all by itself.

“What’s that?”

“Something left over from another job. Might come in handy.”

“So don’t tell me

“I won’t. Knowing you, you might knock me over the head and grab them. This way I can feel confident that if you pull something, you’ll kill yourself messing with them.”

“You’re a suspicious wart

“Helped me reach the ripe old age of thirty. Where the hell are we going?” She was headed south instead of north.

“I told you, I made arrangements. Figured we’d come in from a direction nobody’ll expect.”

“Like what?”

“I got us a boat. We’ll go up the river to the Portage. From there it’s four miles over a range of hills, mostly through vineyards, to Chodo’s place.”

I groaned. I was dragging already. Every ache and pain was still with me I’d taken a powder for those and the headache, but relief was marginal.

“I take it you ain’t overwhelmed by my brilliance.”

“Ha. That’s the trouble with being a boss, Winger. Whatever you do, you’re always in the wrong. Whatever you do is dumb and could be done better, faster, cheaper, by your minions.”

She got a laugh out of that. “I noticed that when I went to work for Easterman. My smarts level went way up.”

“Probably because you knew he had to be dumb to hire you.”

“You got such a line of sweet talk.”

The boat was one of those usually devoted to ferrying people to the east bank, to the side sometimes called Nether TunFaire. Winger had chosen one run by a breed family with no prejudice against rowing upriver if we paid in advance. I paid up and snuggled down amongst cargo and sails and closed my eyes. I might still get my nap.

Winger seemed content to do the same.

The chief ferryman stirred me with his toe. His name was Skid. He was about a hundred years old but spry. The river life was healthy. I snorted and gurgled and otherwise made it seem my intelligence approximated that of a turtle, cracked an eye, and asked, “We there already?”

“Nope. Got a boat following us. Shouldn’t be.” Maybe Skid was still alive because he hadn’t used up his ration of words.

Winger was one of those freaks of nature who just open their eyes and are wide-awake. She was upright, looking aft, before I managed to sit up.

“Where?” I could see lights back there, sure. On about two hundred boats, most of them just like our own, what landlubbers politely call bumboats, home and business for the families operating them.

Skid got down so I could sight along his arm. “Skylar Zed’s tub. Works the east-west, same as us. Don’t come north.”

“Oh “ I couldn’t see the boat he wanted me to see, let alone tell who owned it. I faked it. I told Winger, “This is getting irritating

She grunted. She’d sprawled out again, completely without self-consciousness. She reminded me of Saucerhead more and more, Yet she was different Less intense, more relaxed. Tharpe does worry about what people might think. Winger plain didn’t care—or faked that so well it made no difference, I guess when you’re as oversize as she is, you make adjustments.

I looked some more. At least in the light of the running lamps there was nothing wrong with the way she looked. She was just big. “Hey. Tell me about Winger.” I wasn’t sleepy anymore.

“What’s to tell? I was born and I’m still around. What you see is what you get.”

“The usual stuff. Where are you from? Who were your people? How come you’re out here with me instead of holed up somewhere with a house full of little Wingers?”

“Where’d you come from, Garrett? Who’re your people? How come you’re here instead of back to your place with a pack of little Garretts?”

“I see. Only I don’t mind telling.” I told her about my family, none of whom are alive. I told about my years in the Fleet Marines. I tried but couldn’t really explain what I was doing on the boat. Not in terms she understood. “As for kids, I like them fine but I think I’d make a lousy father. I still have some growing up to do myself, at least by the accepted standards.”

“That ain’t fair, Garrett.”

“Hey, I was just passing the time. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“We going to be friends, Garrett?”

“I don’t know. Could be. Hasn’t a lot gotten in the way so far.”

She chewed that some, leaned back, spat over the side, turned to check our tail, laid down again. “How old you figure me for?”

“My age. A little younger, maybe. Twenty-eight?”

“You’re more generous than most. I’m twenty-six. I do have a kid. Be almost twelve now. I couldn’t handle that life. I walked. It’s usually the man leaves the woman with the brats.”

I didn’t say anything. Not much you can say when somebody tells you something like that. Nothing that doesn’t sound judgmental or insincere.

“I lug around a lot of guilt. But no regrets. Funny, huh?”

“Things turn out that way sometimes. I’ve been through some of that.”

“Like this little jaunt?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t hide so well behind the smart mouth and weary attitude, Garrett. We ice this Chodo, you’re going to take on a shitload of guilt.”

“But no regrets.”

“Yeah. And you know something? That’s why I wanted in. The money and the rep I can use, but it wasn’t just for that. It’s ‘cause I figure you for one of the good guys.”

“I try.” Probably too hard. “But when you get down to it, there isn’t much difference between the good guys and the bad guys.” I used some of my cases to illustrate.

She told me how she’d become a bounty hunter. Mostly by accident. Right after she’d left her family she’d killed a much-wanted thug who’d tried to rape her. She traded the remains for a reward and had found herself with a reputation for having more guts than sense and a big chip on her shoulder

“The rep’s the thing, Garrett. You build it right, you nurture it, you save a lot of trouble. You take this Chodo. Nobody bucks him because of his reputation.”

“He backs it up.”

“You got to do that. Ruthlessness is the key. You, now, your rep is wishy-washy except for keeping your word and not letting people mess your clients around. You might be tough, but you ain’t hard. You get what I’m saying? Somebody hires you to get him out from under blackmail, you don’t just go cut some bastard’s throat and have done with it. You try to finagle it so nobody gets hurt. Lot of people figure you for soft in the center, you go that way. Figure they’ve got an edge.”

“Yeah.” I understood. But I didn’t make any sudden New Year’s resolutions.

“I figure you’ll waste this chance. You off Chodo, you’ll never let anybody know.”

“You’re beginning to depress me.”

She laughed. “You heard the one about the nuns, the bear, and the missing honey?” She told the story. It was about what I expected. She followed it with another. She kept telling them. She knew every bad, off-color joke ever invented and this world, with all its tribes, offers plenty of absurd possibilities.

“I surrender,” I said “I won’t be depressed if you won’t tell any more stories.”

“Great So now let’s figure out what we’re going to do about that other boat.”

I glanced downriver. I still couldn’t tell anything. “Skid. Can you run inshore and let us off without them back there knowing?”

He reflected. “Around Miller Point, up ahead. Be out of their sight maybe twenty minutes. But I thought you wanted to go to the Portage.”

“You go ahead upriver after we get off. Lead that boat along with you.”

“You’re paying the freight. You heard the man, laddies. Cut it close going around the point. Lucky for you,” he said to me “Channel’s close in there.”

When the time came, we did it fast. It worked. Skid headed upriver. Winger and I heard the second boat creak past as we worked our way through the dense growth beside the river. She punched my arm, grinned.

We started our hike cross-country. My body kept threatening to put a curse on me for mistreating it so.

42

I guessed it was just past midnight. We were a mile from Chodo’s place, which was easy to see. “Party must be roaring,” I observed. “Either that or there’s a forest fire over there.”

“We’re coming in from the north, we better head over there, move in closer later.”