Gilded Latten Bones

43

A quick census revealed that the Garrett household had shed most of its visitors. Some, when the Dead Man showed me the roster, were folks I'd missed. Some I didn't know. "Tinnie never showed?" I asked Singe.

"Which means nothing," she told me. "She was informed that important matters would be discussed but this is the middle of the workweek and Amalgamated still suffers from explosively good sales. Note that the people who were here mostly aren't the kind who have ordinary jobs."

Yeah. True. She made it sound plausible.

Those who were still around sure fit. Saucerhead Tharpe, maybe passed out drunk, looked pathetic snoring in a corner. Jon Salvation was bold enough to use Singe's pens and inks to scribble in the bound book of blank pages he carried everywhere.

Then Salvation was up and reminding me, "You said you'd write a letter that would get me in to see Tinnie."

"So I did. Help me swing this desk around and I'll get on it."

I created a three-hundred-word masterpiece that would get Tinnie salivating over the prospects of what Jon Salvation might want to discuss. I kept me out of it. I said nothing about where I was, what I was doing, why, or even my state of health. She could squeeze that out of the Remora if she wanted to know. And he could let me know how interested she was.

If it went right I might try to sneak away for a peace conference.

And then we were down to Saucerhead, a few ratpeople, and the folks over there with the Dead Man. I complained, "I never got a chance to talk to John Stretch. I wanted to catch up on his adventures."

Singe said, "He's doing fine. Outstanding, considering he's still the boss of bosses in the rat underworld. After all these years."

"That would be about three, wouldn't it?"

"Only one as boss of bosses. The first of his kind, really."

She glowed with pride. Her brother was the undisputed overlord of crime amongst her species.

Her look dared me to disrespect her pride.

I'd never do that. Not to Singe.

Garrett. Please join us.

Though I did not hear Singe mentioned I was not alone in migrating.

It seemed there wasn't just one corpse in the cold room when Singe and I arrived. Nobody moved. You'd expect that from Old Bones but Kolda, Playmate, or the healer should have been doing something.

Singe went straight to Playmate, who, definitely, looked dead.

I had Mr. Kolda give him a measure of the medication meant for Mr. Dotes. We will put a bad thing to good use by keeping Playmate under while I battle the monster devouring him from inside. Singe, engage one of the Kerr tribe to take a message to the brother-in-law managing Playmate's stable. He will need to understand what is happening. Do not give too much detail. Do not suggest that we have any great hope. The brother-in-law will, almost certainly, find the prospect of Playmate's recovery disheartening.

From what I knew about Playmate's brother-in-law, I reckoned the Dead Man was spot on. Play's sister was his only heir. The idiot husband probably had a buyer for the stable lined up.

"So what are you actually doing?"

I am working inside Playmate's brain to shut down the pain that distracts him from handling the rest of his life. In parallel, I have been scanning Mr. Kolda's herbal knowledge in hopes of discovering a specific for Playmate's cancer.

"Any luck?"

Possibly. But it comes from the mind of Brother Hoto instead. He knows of a reptile venom that attacks tumor tissue vigorously.

"Where do we find the poison lizard?"

It is a tropical species. A flashily-clad critter something like an iguana with saber teeth appeared in my mind.

"I remember this guy from the islands. A bad actor. You went down if he breathed on you."

As always, you exaggerate where there are no witnesses to contradict you. Nonetheless, the venom is potent. A few of the lizards may live in TunFaire.

Somebody in Kolda's racket had a few hidden away. Or maybe the Children of the Light, selling miracles to the wealthy.

They are in the exotic reptile house of the Royal Zoo.

Oh. Yeah. The royals did collect odd critters. One of the princesses had a special building for moths and butterflies. None of us low-life types ever get to see that stuff.

You have a connection with a prince.

I did. Sort of.

Meantime, I am mining Brother Hoto for anything useful in developing an understanding of the who, what, and why behind Mr. Dotes' misadventure.

"Why not just pluck that out of Morley's head?"

Those fruits are not there to pluck. It could be that he was hit with a rock from the sky and will not be able to tell us anything when he does wake up.

"But he will wake up?"

Within two days. Possibly sooner. Assuming Brother Hoto knows his poison. You may go ahead now, Singe.

He had given Singe work without consulting me.

I was getting hungry. I hadn't seen Dean for some time.

You now know what I know. There is nothing you can contribute here. Check on Mr. Dotes. Go to the kitchen. Get some rest.

I took a good look at Playmate before I went. The man was one of my oldest and most reliable friends. We had helped one another countless times. He grumbled when I asked for something but never failed to come through. I would do what I could to be a good friend in turn.

Morley was sleeping normally. There was more color in his face. Dollar Dan told me he had said something, one word, but nothing the guards had understood.

Headway!

I found Dean in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, leaning on his folded arms, asleep.

I downed the last of a collection of tasteless leftovers. I had caught something from one of our visitors, several of who had had the sniffles.

Whatever it was, wherever I got it, it was aggressive. I felt weak as I headed upstairs. At that point I thought it was because I'd put away too much beer. Half dreaming already, I caught the edge of the Dead Man's concerned thoughts. He was worried about something. It was a generalized worry, about all of us, not targeted.