Dread Brass Shadows

22

Once on the stoop, I paused to suck in a couple of lungfuls of TunFaire's chunk-style air. Because of the warm spell, it was thinner than usual, what with nobody needing to heat their homes, Didn't have much spice at all, actually. I didn't miss it. I looked around.

Dang me. The sun wasn't even up yet, hardly, and already I knew this wasn't going to be one of my better days.

Winger was hanging out down the way, not hiding at all, just about ten yards beyond the Dead Man's usual effective range. She must've gotten around to doing some homework.

She didn't bother me nearly as much as did several other studious types hanging out trying to be invisible. There wasn't a dwarf among them. They were all human, by courtesy. Not the type you want your daughter to bring home. Bent-nose boys, collective intelligence level about that of a slow possum. There were four of them. With Winger? I couldn't tell. She didn't seem to notice them. Nor they her. Chodo's boys? They didn't have that feel. Took me a moment to figure why.

They weren't neat. In fact, they were pretty scraggly. Chodo's troops have to meet a certain minimal level of personal hygiene, dress, and grooming. These guys never heard of those words. Anyway, Chodo has more respect for me. He'd send Crask and Sadler.

Who, then? The Serpent? But she seemed to prefer dwarves and ogres and whatnot.

All that passed through my head in a couple seconds. I considered going inside and locking up and saying the hell with it all. Then I got mad.

All this time I was stretching and yawning and carrying on like I didn't see a thing. I skipped down the steps and turned right, away from Winger, skipped around a little warming up, then took off running.

Fast. It caught them off balance. The two in the direction I was headed pushed off walls, then exchanged "what now?" looks. I was past the first before anybody made a decision.

Then I started flying.

Somebody else got into the game.

Three quarrels zipped past me, plunging bolts loosed from a rooftop across the street. I don't know why they waited till I was moving to start sniping—though I wasn't all that long getting started and maybe they had to wake up first. The best-sped quarrel passed a few inches ahead, high. I tossed a glance back, saw a little ball of hair duck out of sight atop the only flat roof on that side of the street.

I sailed past the second thug, heeling and toeing and whooping for all I was worth. People scattered like startled chickens. I bounded over piles of horse apples deposited since the ratmen passed through. The last watcher came pounding after me but it was obvious he lived a dissolute life. He couldn't keep up for a block.

I zigged into a breezeway, zagged through an alley, leaped and dodged assorted snoring drunks and weed-puffing ratmen, scavenging dogs and hunting cats and even one crippled morCartha, zoomed into always busy Wodapt Street, and faded into the crowd.

Easy as that. No problem now till I decided to go home.

Well, it did take a minute or two to really blend in. For a while I was whoofing and puffing so bad everybody backed away.

I got mad all over again. What was this crap, dwarves trying to snuff me all the time? What did I ever do to them? I don't have to put up with that. And Winger.

I had a mind to turn her over my knee. Only she was as big as me and that might take more turning than I could manage. But I'd had about enough. I was ready to start pushing back.

I ambled up to the Tate compound and spent an hour at Tinnie's bedside. She was mending fine. Full of fire and vinegar. We had us a good little spat, and because she wasn't in any shape for making up, I went away grouchier than ever.

Barely past breakfast time and already it was a memorably lousy day.

One of the innumerable nephews caught me before I made good my escape. ‘Uncle Willard wants to see you, Mr. Garrett."

"Right." Just what I needed. A fuss with the head Tate. No matter how rotten I felt, I couldn't get my heart into an argument with him. He'd suffered so much sorrow in the time I'd known him, unearned, that it just didn't seem right to give him any grief.

I went peaceably, ready to absorb whatever aggravation he wanted to give me.

He was at his workbench. Where else? He'd told me once that the family had a touch of elvish blood. I wondered if he hadn't fudged a little and it was really dwarfish. He was addicted to work.

He gave me the fish-eye, face unreadable. "Sit if you like, Mr. Garrett." Maybe I wasn't high up his list after all.

"Something on your mind?" I sat.

"I understand you're looking for the people responsible for what happened to Tinnie."

"Sort of."

"What does that mean? Sort of."

I explained. I wondered how many times I would have to tell the story, in how many versions, before the dust settled.

Tate listened closely. I know he picked out those points where I slipped past something I wanted to keep to myself. He said, "I see." He reflected for half a minute. "I'd like to meet the person who sent that man to kill Tinnie, Mr. Garrett."

"It was mistaken identity. Had to be."

"I realize that, Mr. Garrett. Even so, Tinnie was hurt. Badly. She would have been killed had not you and your friend been nearby. Had you not intervened. I've given this considerable thought. I want to meet the person responsible. I'll pay well for the opportunity."

He'd have to get in line, but why not? "I'll find her. Or him."

"Him? I was under the impression you believed this witch . .

"The Serpent? Seems likely. But, like I said, as time goes by I become more convinced there's another party involved. Somebody working against the Serpent. And anybody else who gets in the way."

"The blonde woman." He nodded. "You might question her."

"Yeah." Like she was going to let me. "Speaking of her, she says her principal's name in Lubbock. Mean anything? Ever heard the name?"

He didn't hesitate. "Lubbock Crister, tanner. Lubbock Tool, drayage. Frith Lubbock. Wholesale greengrocer. Yon Lubbock Damascen, shipping agent. All men I've done business with, one time or another. Surely there are others. Historically, you have Marshall Lubbock, the imperial general. You have Lubbock Candide, the sorcerer, and his daughter Arachne, who were so blackhearted and vicious mothers still use their names to frighten children."

"All right. All right." I'd never heard of any of them but the last two, but he had a point. "There're plenty of Lubbocks out there. And this Lubbock probably isn't named Lubbock at all. Could even be the Serpent under an assumed name."

The little old guy nodded again, his hair floating around his head. He picked up his TenHagens, perched them on his nose. The interview was over. He was going back to work. "Thank you, Mr. Garrett. Please do keep me posted, when you have the odd moment. And do make time to visit Tinnie. She hasn't many friends."

"I will."

"Leo!" He called for one of the nephew horde. "See Mr. Garrett to the gate." Just to make sure I didn't get lost somewhere along the way.

I hit the street feeling oddly relieved, like I'd taken care of an unhappy duty, comparable to a visit to an unpleasant maiden aunt, and now I could get on with work that mattered. I didn't much like me when I recognized the feeling. Tinnie was no old lady turned to vine~ gar in her solitude. I would have to examine my feelings toward her more closely.

I stopped walking, leaned against a wall, started the process of self-examination while considering my next move.