Deadly Quicksilver Lies

69

"Get out of there!" a hard voice snapped. I shuddered—then recognized the voice.

"Relway?"

"Yes." The little halfbreed secret policeman was curt always, impatient forever. "Move it."

"I wondered if you or the firelord's men would turn up."

"Direheart's guy was the first one here: you. And I find you in a closet with some bimbo in yet another place where we're gonna need wagons to haul the stiffs off."

Relway's men helped us out of the closet. They were particularly solicitous of the bimbo.

I covered my surprise. They said Cleaver was a master of disguise. Here was proof. That bit of wiggling in the dark had been him rearranging his clothing and donning a black wig. He looked like the devil woman lurking around many a man's fantasies.

Relway said, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for who owns this place. Block kowtows to the panjas, but I... " He stopped before he wasted half an hour on a favorite gripe.

"Panjas. I haven't heard them called that since I was a kid."

"Call me old-fashioned. What's your story, Garrett?"

"The girl I'm looking for was supposed to be here. I got a letter supposedly from her. Wanted me to come talk. I came. Some thugs grabbed me, I woke up here drugged to the gills, tied into a chair. They started asking questions that made no sense. Then a bunch of people busted in, there was a fight, somebody cut me loose maybe figuring I was one of their guys. I headed for cover since I wasn't in any shape to help myself."

He seemed somewhat less than convinced that I was telling the whole story. Can't figure why. He showed no interest in Cleaver and didn't ask questions about known associates of one Garrett who might have been seen lurking.

I asked, "Why is Elias Davenport of interest?"

"He's a lunatic panja who makes the rest of the Call look like a social club. He's behind most of the rioting. What kind of magic did they use?"

"Magic?"

"Something made a lot of corpses. Put holes right through them. No weapon will do that."

"Didn't play no favorites, neither, Lieutenant," one of Relway's men observed. Relway grunted.

I said, "I never got a good look, but I thought it was a giant bug. Some guy took it out by whacking it with a shovel." Said guy and his guilty tool weren't lying all that far away. Relway stepped over for a moment, scowled down.

He asked, "You get what you came for?"

"Hell, no! Never saw her. I came straight here. Wherever here is—I never saw the in-between."

Again Relway's look said he lacked conviction in his acceptance of my tale. People just don't take your word anymore. "That so? I'll be busy picking up the pieces here now. I'll want to talk later. Meantime, you might report to the firelord. I have a feeling he's uncomfortable with the bloodshed that follows you."

"I can go?"

"Just don't go so far I can't find you."

"Perish the thought." I tried to recall old war buddies who lived outcountry and might put me up.

"Garrett."

I stopped oozing toward the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Unusual mix of stiffs. You happen to notice who brought them in here?" His tone and expression suggested his thoughts were on a plane not even vaguely connected to my own.

"Not really. Not that I recognized."

"Any centaurs? Anyone with an unusual accent?"

"Huh?" He really was somewhere else.

"You see anybody might have been a refugee from the Cantard?"

"Not that I knew was. Why? What's up?"

"There's cause to think the refugees have organized for their own protection. Directed by fugitive Mooncalled officers."

"Oh." Now wouldn't that be the bloom on the rose? TunFaire hiding Glory Mooncalled's survivors. "Interesting notion." Relway would give it up as soon as he identified a few bodies.

I resumed traveling. I made sure I kept a deathgrip on my bimbo. And a close watch on her free hand, lest it dart into her bosom in search of some equalizer.

Cleaver always had a fallback.