Dread Brass Shadows

17

I almost made it home without getting distracted.

I'd just crossed Wizard's Reach. I was beginning to feel optimistic. I'd decided I was going to wrap myself around another gallon of beer, then throw myself in bed and sleep till noon. The hell with running and everything else. I justified future loafing the old-fashioned way. I told me I'd earned it.

Somebody hissed at me from the shadows beside a neighbor's stoop.

I took a deep breath, sighed, looked for signs of trouble, looked at that shadow, didn't go any closer. I couldn't make out whoever was there. Mama Garrett didn't raise many fools who lived to be thirty. I didn't go over there. "Come out, come out, whoever you are. Allee allee in free."

"I can't. They might be watching."

"Too bad." Very too bad.

My mood had plunged. I didn't bother asking who might be watching.

The voice sounded a tad familiar. I couldn't place it, though.

I laid a hand on my belt. No headknocker. Still down somewhere near Dwarf Fort. I resumed walking, wondering if I'd see that billy again. I wasn't ready to go looking. Too many dwarves down there and I can't tell one from another. I don't think they'd accept a kill-them-all-and-let-the-gods-sort-them-out approach.

My egg might be scrambled some but it does me just fine, thank you.

The dark behind me moaned. Feet pitty-patted toward me, I eyed the house, wondered if I'd have lime to get Dean's attention before somebody did something unpleasant and maybe left the old boy a mess to clean up.

That's the power of positive thinking there After having had my head redesigned—it was throbbing and pounding—I saw no dawn on any horizon Funny how one little thing can cause your mood to change so fast.

I sidestepped, dropped into a crouch, and came around with a fist meant to drive right through somebody's ribs and let me get hold of his backbone from the front. Then, if I was feeling mean, I'd shake him till his ears fell off

I tried pulling it. I fell on my face, rearranged my nose into an even less appealing mess, and still folded the little darling up around my fist

I got myself up, wobbled around a little, wiped the fuzz out of my eyes. The girl stayed down, holding herself and making strangling noises Moo, boy. What a lady-killer, Garrett. It wasn't my week for women If it kept up, it wasn't going to be my year.

I felt my nose to see if anything was left. Hard to tell from here, but there seemed to he a nub under the ick. It hurt enough to be my nose. I shook some more cobwebs and knelt. "You shouldn't ought to run up on a guy like that."

She made noises like she was trying to heave up her stockings. I scooped her up and headed for home, caveman Garrett bringing home the goodies

She felt like a real treat, curled in my arms. It was hard to tell by eyeball in the available light. Curious morCartha cruised around as I climbed the steps, kicked the door, and hollered They didn't bother me. I felt the Dead Man touch me, just to make sure it wasn't somebody trying to get past Dean disguised as a freshly slaughtered side of beef.

Dean opened the door after peeking through the spyhohe. He looked at the girl. "Got lucky again, eh?" He stepped aside

I took her into the small front room, put her down on the daybed "See what you can do while I clean up." I sketched what had happened. He gave me one of his better looks of exasperation.

"You missed supper."

"I ate out. At Morley's. Get a light in here so we can see. I'll be back in a minute." I left him and dashed upstairs faster than a wounded snail. After I washed my face and rechecked it for missing parts, I put on clean clothes and scooted downstairs and stuck my head into the Dead Man's room "Company, Smiley."

I am aware of that, Garrett. Try to restrain your animal urges. She may be of some help, though I cannot get anything yet. She is too frightened and confused.

"Restrain myself? I'm a paragon of restraint. I'm the guy they invented the word for. I've never burned the house down around you."

It was one of those rare times when he didn't try to get in the last word Chalk one up in the history books. Might not happen again in my lifetime. She knows something, Garrett.

Hell. Score one for him That was worse than one of his standard digs. It was tone rather than words. He was accusing me of goofing off.

I stomped into the small front room.

Dean was bent over the woman, blocking her from view, talking softly. I paused, looked at him with an affection I'd never show to his face. He had been the luckiest find of my life. He did everything around the house that I hated, cooked like an angel, put in absurd hours, and more often than not was as emotionally involved in my cases as I was. I couldn't ask for much more but maybe a little less lip and a little more enthusiasm about keeping the Dead Man clean.

If he has a failing, it's his disapproval of my work habits Dean believes in work for its own sake, as a tonic for the soul.

I coughed gently to let him know I was there. He didn't hear Was he going deaf? Maybe. He had to be pushing seventy, though he wouldn't admit it.

"How is she, Dean? Settled down any?"

He tossed a glower over his shoulder "Some. No thanks to you."

"I should let somebody run up on me and maybe change the shape of my head?" I was getting irritable. Can't understand why My face hurt? My head ached? My shoulder throbbed? My legs were cramping from all the walking and running? That's no excuse I was headed for despair mode, where you keep on fighting the fight but you've decided it isn't worth it You just can't stop

Facts don't bother Dean much. He's still fifteen years old inside. He never stopped believing in the kind of magic kids carry around inside them before reality beats them down. He gave me another look at his glower. He was on a roll, He said, "Give me a couple more minutes

I'll go report, then,'' I went and told the Dead Man about my excursion into that world where Dean's brand of magic has died

He had no direct comment. Go meet the girl. Chuckle. You will be surprised.

The Dead Man scores his points I was surprised.

She was gorgeous. Luscious. I'd had my suspicions, of course. I'd carried her in and there's nothing wrong with my sense of touch. But there hadn't been light enough to reveal all that red hair.

Yeah She was a ringer for the gal who'd told the Baron Stonecipher story, who was a ringer for the naked gal. This one with a difference. This one had an air of innocence "It's raining redheads, Dean."

He grunted. Like he didn't care.

She was sitting up now, no longer green around the gills. She looked at me. Green eyes. Again. Gorgeous big naive green eyes Lips like I only dream about. Freckles

Down, boy.

I gaped. Dean gave me the evil eye. I said, "We need a name for this case Maybe call it Too Many Redheads.

"Mr. Garrett?" Who! That voice! Like the last redhead's voice, but with added bells and promises whatever

"That's me. Garrett Ferocious dragon fighter and unwitting stomper of damsels in distress. And that's on my good days."

She looked puzzled

"Sorry. It's been a rough day. I'm on edge Let's start over. I promise not to sock you it you promise not to run up behind me in the dark. In the street, anyway. We could put the Dead Man to sleep and run Dean off and she could chase me all ever the house if she wanted. I wouldn't try too hard to get away In the interest of science, of course To see how closely she compared with my nudist visitor, say

She smiled. The freckles on her cheeks danced. That almost made my day worthwhile

Almost

"Dean explained," she said Funny how he gets on a first-name basis so fast. "I should apologize. That wasn't smart. I'm not used to the city.' She stood. My eyes bugged. Her movements were unpretentious and unaffected and I had to grind my teeth to keep from howling and whistling She was a natural heart-stopper. Wherever she came from, she'd been wasted on them there. They'd been dumb enough to let her get away. Send more of hei kind to TunFaire. Take our minds off poverty and war and despair. Talk about your bread and circuses. This gal was a three-ringer all by herself

She stuck out a hand. It wasn't half as big as mine. I took it. It was a chock full of warmth and life—which reminded me that Tinnie almost wasn't. That brought me back to earth. She said, "I'm Carla Lindo Ramada, Mr. Garrett. I came here from..."

Oh boy "Hold it. Let me guess. The castle of Baron Stonecipher in the Harnadan Mountains. Where you're a chambermaid. The baron sent you after a guy named Holme Blaine who kyped a book from a witch called the Serpent."

Her jaw dropped.

Outside, overhead, the morCartha started up. The racket was so close and so loud it sounded like they were using my roof for landings and takeoffs I told Dean, "They're going to make themselves unpopular if they keep that up."

The redhead realized her pretty little mouth was open, so she closed it, but it sagged open again. She stood there like a goldfish gulping air.

I asked, "Was I close"

"How did you... ?"

I wanted to brag about what a great investigator I was. No point exaggerating, though. "Take it easy. I'm not a psychic." He was in the other room. "You're at least the second gorgeous redhead named Carla Ramada who turned up today. You want me to find the book, right?"

"Carla Lindo Ramada," she said. Apparently that was important. "But... How... ?"

"I don't know." There wasn't any doubt in my mind that this wasn't the woman who had been here earlier. I was pretty sure she wasn't the naked woman, either. I couldn't tell you what it was. A subtle clue of some kind. I had only minimal reservations about her being the real Carla Lindo Ramada. She wore the name more comfortably.

Her face went through the changes, all of them fetching. I was thinking the thing to do was get her Out of town before she started riots because there was only two or three of her to go around—then I finally started wondering how come there were two or three. Or were there four or five? Was there a whole legion of her out there? Did redheads grow on trees in the Hamadan? Gods, get me into the forestry racket

Her features settled into solid fear. "It must have been her! She must have a page in the book that's me."

"What?" It sank in. "The villain of the piece came here masquerading as you?" Well. Well again. And she was my client. More or less. "But how? If she doesn't have the book anymore?"

She didn't ask how I knew what the book did. She thought about my question. "First draft? Maybe she brought draft pages with her. You couldn't really mistake her for me, could you?"

She wasn't that naive after all.

No. I couldn't mistake her, having seen her. I thought back to that earlier visit. It wouldn't come clear. That was odd. The Dead Man has taught me to pick up details and retain them. But I found only mists where I should have had cleat, crisp recollections.

"Dean, make us a pot of tea. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night." And who could get any rest with all that racket going on outside? I was beginning to hope they'd wipe each other out. "We might as well relax before we start

He gave me the hardeye like he wondered if something so sweet would he safe if lie visited the kitchen, decided maybe 1 could restrain myself that long, stalked out. Carla Lindo Ramada told me, "Dean is a sweet man."

"Yeah. Sometimes we have trouble keeping the bees off him. We use him to bait our flytraps. And he's a sucker for a girl in trouble." But not me. Oh, no, not Garrett. Garrett is hard as nails, "How come you were hiding out there?"

"When I arrived in TunFaire, I stayed with people the Baron knows. On the Hill. I asked everybody I saw who might be able to help me. Everybody recommended you."

Gahk! I hadn't thought my name was common coin on the Hill. That could be bad news.

"They say you're honest but you do things your own way and you have a reputation as a chaser." Her eyes sparkled She definitely wasn't as naive as she looked.

"Me? They must've been thinking about somebody else. I'm pure of heart and soul. Pure as the driven slush

"But maybe a little lax in mind and body?" More eye twinkle. She was coming back from her fright. Fast. I bet she kept that mountain castle simmering.

She smiled. Her freckles danced And I knew why she stood out from the other redheads. They didn't have freckles Even Tinnie doesn't have them Many Where they show.

We could've gone on like that all night, but there was a job to do. And Dean would be back any second, pushing his scowl before him. "Guilty more often than not Let me tell you about the Carla Lindo Ramada who was here before You tell me when her story doesn't match up with yours."

She listened attentively. Her eyes never stopped sparkling and her freckles never stopped dancing, even when Dean brought our tea. He looked at her looking at me and sighed. He never does quite abandon hope that he can stick me with one of his nieces.

Carla Lindo sipped her tea, seemed startled. Dean had broken out one of his reserve blends. She took another sip, told me, "That's exactly the way it happened, Mr. Garrett. I think."

"You think?"

‘I wasn't there. He sent me away so I'd be safe."

‘He did? He wanted you safe from the rowdiness at home, but he packed you off to the wicked city alone?" That didn't seem consistent.

"He didn't want to send me. Probably she got here before I did because he spent so much time making up his mind. But he didn't have any choice. I was the only one left that he could trust."

"Why?"

‘The Serpent tried to enlist everybody else. Some of them had to be with her. The trustworthy ones all got killed trying to get the book. She never tried to get to me because she knew I'd never do anything against him."

"Why not? We all can be tempted."

"Because he's my father, Mr. Garrett. My mother was a chambermaid, too, so there was no way he could legitimize me, but their relationship wasn't any secret. He never denied me, even to his wife. She hates me and my mother. But she hasn't dared do anything." She shivered, suddenly frightened. There was a big yet unspoken there. If Dean had been anywhere else, I would've bounced over to comfort her.

This was getting more complicated by the minute, at the far end, where the story started, but I wasn't a step nearer getting things unraveled here. "Wait up. I'm getting confused. We have a wife and a witch and a mistress and a daughter, all for a guy who's supposed to be two hundred years old, bedridden, and under a curse that won't let him die?"

She looked at me funny. I ran past her what the other

Carla Lindo had told me. Maybe she hadn't been listening the first time.

"Oh. That's not quite true. Father is old and bedridden, but he wasn't always. And he's not two hundred; she just says that. He's sixty-eight. She put the curse on him when I was four, when he stopped even pretending about my mother and sent her to live in the other tower."

"Huh?"

Dean got it first. "His wife would be the Serpent, Mr. Garrett. He exiled her to a separate part of the castle." So much for my steel-trap mind. Maybe if I was a little less pained and tired

The girl nodded.

"Oh. Right. I got it now Should have said so." I wondered if that changed anything. I wondered why I cared. The carryings-on of the denizens of a faraway castle were no business of mine. Unless those people wouldn't leave me alone. I thought out loud, "It seems we know who and why, Dean. You think?"

"That Serpent person. Wanting to keep Miss Carla from reaching you and getting your help."

"That's one. What about Squirrel? Her doing?"

He shrugged. "That blonde woman?"

"Maybe. Now we know this, what should we do?"

Carla Lindo didn't correct Dean's lapse. So she was the kind who would let him get away with stuff.

She interrupted my thoughts. "Will you help me, Mr. Garrett?"

I wanted to tell her I wouldn't let her out of my sight. That that would be too painful, like taking away my vision. My eyes couldn't stand the darkness when she was gone. But I kept it businesslike. Barely "Yes. I think our interests run parallel." Wouldn't be the first time I'd turned on a client who turned out to be shady.

My comments puzzled Carla Lindo. I glanced at Dean. He shrugged. He hadn't told her about Tinnie or that the imposter Carla Lindo had hired me.

"Miss Ramada... I became involved in this on a personal level yesterday. A. good friend was coming to visit. She's about your height and has red hair. A man tried to kill her out front. One of the Serpent's men, evidently. Mistaking her for you, I suspect. So I have a score to settle. I suppose."

The Dead Man touched me, a summons. He had something he wanted to stick in, in private. "Excuse me. I have to step out for a minute. Finish explaining, Dean."

The old man nodded. He was looking hurt all over again. Like Tinnie had just gotten hit. He'd probably tell it better than I could. He didn't pretend to be tough.

I sure didn't feel tough and invulnerable.