Gilded Latten Bones

82

I sat down with Strafa in Singe's office, a stack of handkerchiefs close by. Singe was at her desk, hard at it pretending to be disinterested. "I'm betting you found a whole lot of nothing yesterday."

"You're psychic. I did get to spend time with my daughter and Kip. As did Barate."

That did not sound like the kids had much fun. "You didn't spank them, did you?"

"No. I was gentle as could be. Before Barate got there I hammered Kevans about them having to stop being bedroom friends. They have other commitments, now."

"I wondered if you saw that."

"I expect even Kyra saw it. I don't know if I got through. She didn't want to get it, probably because it's been them against the world for so long. And Kip may not be involved with Kyra physically, yet."

"Don't tell me. He respects her too much. And doesn't see the inconsistency."

"That would be my guess. And, then, there is you and me. Kevans threw that in my face."

"Ouch. What did Barate say?"

"He wasn't there yet. Kevans settled down fast after he showed up."

Singe wrote and pretended to be deaf. I could imagine her thoughts about our personal lives becoming ever more complicated.

I said, "We aren't in a good position to argue, 'Do as I say!' "

"True. But there is a difference."

"About the warehouse."

"Barren. Not even dust or cobwebs. People and elves around there won't talk about it. Ratpeople will. Palace Guards took everything away. Some stayed around to chase off Director Relway's Specials and General Block's forensic sorcerers. The ratpeople say there's a plan to demolish the building, now."

I muttered, "That wouldn't be legal. The Lifeguards can't tell people what to do outside the Palace."

It shouldn't be hard to trace where that much stuff went.

Strafa had the answer already. The ratfolk had told her.

"It went into the Knodical underground."

"What?" The Knodical was a Royal house well separated from the Palace. Over the past few centuries its main function has been to house the Royal mistresses.

"Hired ratpeople broke stuff up into firewood, cullet, and landfill. Human bits went to a crematorium. The rest went into the Knodical."

"I see," I said. "Everything but the sense."

"It doesn't make any, does it? You don't create dozens of witnesses while trying to destroy evidence."

Not if you can't get rid of the witnesses.

"So something else was going on."

"Maybe it was about purification."

Strafa got up, stepped over, eyed my lap like she was thinking about making herself at home.

"Not in here, please," Singe said without looking up. "General Block thinks we are brushing up against a conspiracy against the Crown."

I waited expectantly. Strafa dropped her snuggle scheme and joined the wait.

"Well?"

"His goal may be to destroy wealth."

Strafa and I leaned toward her. "Whose goal?"

"Gods, think! Rupert! Suppose there is a plot against the Royals but it's well hidden. The patchwork men are part of it. Maybe they are supposed to create panic and make the people in charge look incompetent. But Rupert doesn't have to know who the bad guys are to break their toys. If they want to stay in business, they have to buy more. So they risk exposing themselves making purchases. Which will cost a lot of money."

All of which sounded weird but might make sense in a context where the Crown came down hard and hogged everything.

Strafa said, "They don't think they can trust anyone."

"Say that's right, Singe. So what?"

"I was speculating. It won't make a lick of difference to you or me."

"You think?"

"I think. In fact, I think we should forget the whole thing. I think we should concentrate on business. Morley, I smell you. Come in."

Dotes entered, not the least chagrined.

Singe said, "The Grapevine is a class restaurant. Cherish and nurture that. Let the professionals dance with the devils and deal with the rest."

Odd stuff coming out of that girl's mouth.

Morley deadpanned, "You're right, Singe. I have The Palms to worry about, too. It made a comeback after the wine snob set moved on."

Singe's whiskers twitched. She knew Morley was messing with her.

He said, "And I had openings planned near two other theaters. One would do seafood."

I played along."You're talking seriously upscale there, brother. Hard to keep that stuff fresh all the way up the river."

He looked past me. "I was going to ask your lady friend to come in as a partner. She could fly in shrimp and crabs, scallops, sea bass, squid, octopus, prawns, that kind of stuff, fresh every day."

Strafa chuckled. "Entrepreneurship comes to the magical realm. Let's reduce everything to the commercial and mundane."

"What about it?" Morley asked.

"It wouldn't be practical, Mr. Dotes. I can neither fly that far nor can I lift the masses that would be required."

"It was a thought. My other idea would be an ethnic foods place."

That caught Singe's interest. "That would be better. More people can afford pork buns or curries, or something they ran into once while they were doing their five, than could possibly want to put out a fortune so they can brag that they ate a squid."

"Easier to get the ingredients, too," Morley said.

"What is a squid, anyway?"

Dotes said, "That's one for you, Garrett."

I explained about squid, great and small. "Some are littler than your pinkie. Some are big enough to brawl with whales. I think the whales usually start it."

"Ratfolk aren't famous for being picky eaters, Garrett, but I would have to be damned hungry to chomp down on something like that."

"Batter it and fry it in butter, it's not so bad."

"What are we even talking about this stuff for?" Morley demanded.

"You brought it up. Going to make Strafa rich, remember?"

"I'm going crazy here. I have to get out. I need to start doing something."

"Right behind you, boss. Here's how we'll start. You go run down the hall to the kitchen, turn around and run to the front door, then charge on back in here. All without resting. I'll time you."

"Will you ladies kindly cover your ears? I'm about to say bad things about Garrett."

Singe snickered. "That means he knows he'll collapse before he completes the first lap."

Morley did not disagree. He couldn't. And he wasn't happy about it.

For the first time in the epoch that we had been friends I was in better shape than him.

Singe asked, "Are you done, now? Can I get some work done before the outside world butts in again?"

"You can," I said, more curious than ever about what was taking so much of her time and required the use of so much paper and ink.

Singe shook her head as though she despaired of seeing us survive to enjoy our tenth birthdays. She commenced to begin to ignore our very existence.

I grumbled, "Go ahead. Be that way." I thought about sampling some dizzy water, or maybe some premium beer. But what was the point if I had to go it alone? And if I was going to make myself sick all over again?

Morley asked, "What are the chances those villains will forget about us now?"

"Dumbass question, brother. How the hell would I know? Near as I can figure, they ought to have zero interest in me and only incidental interest in you. Unless you can remember why those absurd people were after you in the first place."

"Garrett, if I knew, you and Bell both would have heard a long time ago."

No doubt. No doubt.

Someone knocked.

Singe sighed, set her pen down, grumbled, "And so it begins."