Dread Brass Shadows

25

We'd hardly begun walking. Suddenly people started running around cackling at each other like the world's biggest chicken herd. They didn't act scared, they just wanted to know what was happening. Me too, you bet. I got no sense from the confusion till everybody stopped, faced the same way, and pointed.

The shadows came first, rippling over us. Then came the monsters, out of the morning sun, a good dozen of them. Instead of drifting way up high, they were down at rooftop level, wing tip to wing tip, necks snaky and heads darting around. They screeched as they went over. MorCartha appeared from nowhere, diving for safety below.

Nobody panicked. There ‘was no cause. Those things were big but not massive. They couldn't carry anyone off. Maybe a cat or small dog. They didn't have the wing power to go flapping away with anything heavier.

Somebody nearby observed, "They're cleaning out the pigeons." Which was why their heads were darting around. "One comes along ahead of the others and flushes those feathered rats, then the rest get them on the fly."

Somebody else said, "I hear they's a bunch of the big meat-eaters in the hills up north."

Grimmer news, that. Some of those critters stand thirty feet tall, weigh a dozen tons, and snack on mammoths. The farmers would be in for some excitement. I told Winger, "There you go, you want to make money. I know a guy pays prime rates for thunder-lizard hides." Willard Tate used thunder-lizard leather for the soles of army boots.

Winger spat. "Easier money here." Like I'd made a serious suggestion. Not subtle, friend Winger.

We started moving again When we hit a quiet stretch, she said, "I didn't know you had those things around here."

"We don't. Usually Something must be pushing them south. They don't like it down here. Too cold and unfriendly."

Which sparked a thought. If there were big carnivores rampaging through the hills, they wouldn't last. One chilly night and that would be that. The farmers would sneak around and feed them a few hundred pounds of poisoned steel while they were too sluggish to protect themselves Then Old Man Tate would find himself with more hides than he could handle.

One reason thunder-lizards stay away from the sapient races is they always get the dirty end They're pretty dim, but they've learned that Teeth and claws and mass are only so much use against brains and sorcery and sharp, poisoned steel.

Which is another reason we didn't see much fear. Not to mention the fact that TunFaire is surrounded by a wall no thunder-lizard could climb.

The excitement made it difficult to tell if we were being tailed, by Fido's boys or Chodo's. I took it for granted we had company. I worried more about Easterman's clowns than Chodo's troops. The latter would be pros. They'd be predictable. All I knew about the brunos was that they could be deadly.

As we walked I hammered away at Winger, trying to get through. She couldn't believe things were as black as I claimed. She didn't understand how potent the Book of Dreams could be. Or she didn't want to.

We'd just passed Lettie Faren's cathouse, which clings to the skirts of the Hill like a malignant parasite, and I'd started telling Winger a story about something that had happened there. I was worried about the woman. She didn't get the chuckle she should have... . Sadler stepped out of an alley. Just for a second. Nothing special to someone who didn't know him. But I knew him. I glanced back. I doubted any tail would have spotted him.

He wanted to talk to me. Did I want to talk to him? Particularly, did I want to walk down a dark alley with him?

Well, maybe I could get him off my tail. "Winger, I got to see a man about a dog. Hang on a minute." I headed toward that alley hitching my pants. Watchers would buy it if I didn't take all day.

I was at a disadvantage stepping out of the brightness into shadow. If Sadler wanted me, he had me. I said, "Make it fast

"Right. Heard you had a close scrape."

"Yeah. Dwarves Again

"I heard. That the woman we been looking for?"

"The very one. Only she didn't cut Squirrel. I think I know who did. Brunos who work for a guy called Fido Easterman."

He snickered. "Fido?"

"It's an imperial title. Don't make mock. Yeah. He's crazy as a platoon of loons. Real candidate for the ha-ha house. Got a place up the Hill looks like a haunted castle. Wants to be an evil sorcerer."

"He isn't?''

"Like a stone isn't. He's just crazy. Maybe it's his business. Metal smelting. Maybe he's breathed too many fumes off the crucibles. He's got four brunos that I spotted. Not first water. I think he went for cheap over competent."

Sadler clicked his tongue, looked thoughtful. He seemed distracted. Odd. He'd wanted to talk to me, not the other way around.

I said, "There's a good chance they offed Blaine, too."

Sadler clicked again, looked even more thoughtful. Maybe he was turning into a philosophical cricket. It could happen. Stranger things have.

"What?" I asked. Impatient me. Just because a whiz don't take twenty minutes.

"These guys are second rate, eh?"

"Looked it to me." Was he paying attention?

"What about that door9 Who cut Squirrel so deep? Somebody with a little strength, eh9"

I hadn't thought of that. "Yeah. I guess."

"You guess. That's you, Garrett. Guessing and stumbling around in the dark till you fall over something. Reason 1 wanted to talk to you, we got a line on some dwarves. Probably won't do you no good. They was in a big dust-up down on the Landing. Dwarfish gang fight. One bunch jumped another bunch. After, some headed for Dwarf Fort, some headed toward the Bledsoe. I'd call it a draw, far as how mt turned out. I got some guys trying to track the ones went toward the hospital. Thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah. Thanks." I forgot to mention Winger and I were on a trail. Better to have the hard boys headed somewhere else. "This is turning into the longest leak in history. Anybody was watching me they'd be getting suspicious."

"You worry too much. Crask can handle them. But go on. Catch you later." He drifted into shadow, taking his aura of menace with him.

"Yeah. Later." I stomped out of there hitching my pants and shaking my head.

Winger said, "You must have a five-gallon bladder, Garrett." She was breathing heavy.

"Yeah. Something happen?"

She gave me a mocking smile. "Nothing I couldn't handle. Some guy tried to pick me up. I discouraged him."

"Oh. Let's move." I wanted to see what I could see before Chodo's boys stumbled into my way. Always seemed to be people turning up dead when they did.

Winger seemed disappointed that I didn't have any banter or follow-up questions about her encounter. I shrugged it off.

It was hard to make any speed. The streets had filled with people gawking at the pigeon exterminators. One glided over, pathfinding. I said, "I hear those things only go thirty, forty pounds." This one went night over the Tate compound, which wasn't far away. I wondered if Tinnie was watching, too. For no reason I could finger I was feeling blue.

"Cheer up, Garrett. We'll find that book and get rich."

Or dead. Lots more likely dead.