Angry Lead Skies

82

"What the hell do you mean, he got away?" I yelled at Dean. "Between you and Old Bones in there you couldn't manage one guy four feet tall and only about fifty pounds soaking wet?"

"You exaggerate, Mr. Garrett," Dean replied with cold dignity. "That creature has Powers. And the thing in the other room went to sleep." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Dead Man. "If you insist on pillorying someone for dereliction, I suggest your candidate be the thing actually capable of having exercised control over the foreigner."

"But he's asleep. I can't vent my frustrations by yelling at him."

Dean shrugged. My need to yell was a matter of indifference to him. Unless I showed the slack-witted judgment to zero in on him personally. "I expect you're starved, Mr. Garrett. What do you say to stuffed peppers?"

That was blackmail in its rawest form.

Dean's smile was wicked, even demonic. He'd do it. He'd really make the whole house reek of that foul fruit.

"You watch out I don't change the locks next time you go out of the house."

Dean smiled. It's his firmly held conviction that I can't get along without him.

The man is mad.

"I'm going to go into my office. I'm going to put on my thinking cap. Singe, how about you grab us a pitcher and a couple of mugs?" I really wanted to go pummel the Dead Man but knew I'd just end up driving myself crazy. If he was soundly enough asleep to let Casey get away there'd be no waking him up anytime soon.

Because beer was involved Singe overlooked my treating her more like an employee than a partner, which is what she figured she was.

I didn't give Eleanor more than a passing glance because I knew what I'd find if I bothered to consult the woman in the painting. No help at all and a whole lot of amusement at my predicament.

Singe materialized with the beer. Not one pitcher but two, one in each paw, with mugs. We went to work sipping, nobody saying much. After a while she returned to the kitchen for refills. We sipped some more. I began to relax. Then Dean stuck his head in to tell me that Colonel Block was at the door and wanted to see me.

I hadn't heard him pounding.

Singe hadn't either, apparently. She said, "Just when I was about to seduce you."

"Life's a bitch. There's always a Westman Block ready to jump in and ruin the moment. Colonel! How good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Singe moved her special chair aside so Block could plant himself in the guest seat.

Block nodded his head sagely. "All right, Garrett. You got me fooled. You're thrilled to see me. I just wanted to share some news. We caught one of those silver elves that have been terrorizing the city."

"Terrorizing?" Being the superb actor I am, I kept a straight face and said, "Really? Congratulations."

"Don't waste the effort."

"Huh?"

"I know what's been going on, Garrett. Lucky for you, most of the time I buy into Deal's concept of the rule of law."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Your attitude, however, frequently makes it hard to cut you any slack."

"So my best friends keep telling me. I had a rough childhood. My daddy got killed in the war."

Which wasn't the smartest choice of wiseass comments. But the good colonel set me straight.

"Don't be a dickhead, Garrett. Everybody's daddy got killed in the war. That's the way they did it in those days. They waited till a guy created a family before they conscripted him. That way they could be sure there'd be more soldiers coming up."

"Easy. Sorry." This was an aspect of Wes Block I hadn't seen before. "So let's be serious. You've caught one of the silver elves."

"And he isn't talking. We're not entirely sure that he can. The people who've examined him say it might not be possible to make him talk because we don't have the technical expertise."

Clever, clever Casey. He was selling his strangeness. "And?"

"And there have been suggestions, from some quarters, that your partner might be able to fill the communications gap."

Ah. Now we came to the reason for the friendly visit. "There's an idea that hasn't found its time. Assuming there was any way at all he could be talked into underwriting the delinquencies of the people you're fronting, there's still one problem. He's sound asleep. Based on grim experience, I'd say there's a cruel chance he'll stay that way for a long time. Because he's had to stay awake a lot, lately."

"I'm trying to save you some grief, Garrett."

"And I appreciate it. But no amount of good intentions on your part, or of anybody else's wishful thinking, can change the facts. Come on. I'll show you." Like there's anything visibly different about how the Dead Man looks when he's sleeping. "Stick a pin in him if you want. He wouldn't feel it anyway but if he was awake he'd respond to the insult. Or you could say something revolting but true about the Loghyr."

"I'll take your word for it." But his tone wasn't that reassuring. "The trouble is, I have people pressing me who don't really care about such problems."

"You have people pressing you who're stupid enough to risk offending a dead Loghyr?"

"In a word, yes. There really are people who don't know any better."

"People that survived the Cantard?"

"We have a crop of apprentices coming up who didn't get a chance to experience the worst the war had to offer before the Venageti collapse. They don't know they're not invulnerable. They have no grasp whatsoever on their true limitations. And they're in a hurry now."

"You don't say. And you don't know any older, cooler heads who might rein them in?"

Block shrugged. He looked grim. He shuddered. I asked, "What?"

"I never expected it would be easy. But I did hope."

"Which means?"

"Which means that I'm going to have to find a hole and pull it in after me because Relway's gotten a big head lately, too. He insists that if any of those spook-chaser pups do step very far outside the law, he'll nail them the same as if they were muggers on the street."

"Oh, boy. That'll bring their daddies out." I took a huge breath, let it go in a grand sigh. "I didn't think he'd move this soon."

"That little man is crazy, Garrett. But crazy like the proverbial fox. I'd bet he's a lot more ready for a showdown than you or I think he could be. If he does go down he'll make sure it's in a conflagration so dramatic that not just TunFaire but all Karenta will be changed forever."

I sighed me another one of those huge sighs. "All right. I don't want to do this. I hate to get noticed by those people. But there's a slim chance I can get through to your guy. If he's the one we called Casey. I assume he is because all the rest of them seem to have gone aboard the skyship that was terrorizing the city earlier today."

Block gave me one of his squinty looks. He knew that skyship had made an up close and personal appearance at the digs of my friend Morley Dotes. But he didn't press the matter.

I offered him a brief, thoroughly edited version of events on the Embankment, claiming I'd been there in the interest of my client Kip Prose, who still felt threatened. "The point is, I'm still finding myself up to my ankles in Bic Gonlit. Nothing I do gets that guy to go away. He's started to make me wonder if it isn't personal after all."

"Bic Gonlit. With a stormwarden, eh?"

"A thoroughly shabby stormwarden. You'd figure him for a fake, just looking at him. Nobody off the Hill ought to be that scruffy. But he sure brewed up the lightning when the time came to show his stuff."

"I haven't gotten the reports on that incident yet. I'll look into it when I get back." He asked several questions evidently meant to give him clues to the sorcerer's identity. I don't think I helped.

Singe decided to go refill our pitchers.

Block said, "That's creepy, Garrett."

"What is?"

"That rat running around here just like she was people."

"Oh." I didn't start an argument. "You get used to it. You are holding the silver elf at the al-Khar, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Good. It would've been bad—for me—if they'd decided to question Casey in the cellar of one of those ugly stone piles on the Hill. "Well, let me tie up a few loose ends here, then I'll wander over there with you and take a shot at seeing what I can do with your guy."

Colonel Black was suspicious, right away and right down to the bone. And he was right to be. "What're you up to, Garrett?"

"I'm trying to keep my life from getting infested with parasitic wizards. I've had run-ins with Casey before. If it's him you've got and not some other elf none of us knows about, I might be able to communicate with him. I managed once before. But he's stubborn. And he isn't afraid of anything."

Block's suspicions were allayed only slightly. I don't know why. I'm a trustworthy kind of guy.

"I'm going to go help Singe. If Dean's not there to do it for her she gets beer all over drawing it out of the cold well." I went to the kitchen. "Singe, I need the invisibility fetish."

Somebody trusted me. She handed the thing over without a question.

"You know if we have any more of these things squirreled away anywhere?"

She shook her head. "You gave all the rest back to the women or to that man in there. He's afraid of me, isn't he?"

"In a way. Yes. He'll get over it. Say a prayer for me to the gods of the ratfolk."

"Or maybe I will not. Our gods are all cruel and treacherous. Reflecting the world itself. We just try to trick them into looking the other way."

A philosophy I could embrace wholeheartedly.