Whispering Nickel Idols

27

Armed with marvelous new knowledge, I ambled toward my own part of town. I didn’t pay attention. It took me a while to realize my secret-police angel was gone and Spider Webb was back.

Spidey just wanted to know where I went and who I saw. Chuckle, chuckle. I led him to the Al-Khar, then wandered on after being refused access to Block and Relway. Relway’s very existence having been denied despite his being publicly proclaimed chief of the Unpublished Committee for Royal Security. I detoured past Harvester Temisk’s digs. He wasn’t there. I circled The Palms without disturbing Morley Dotes or any cranky henchmen. By then I was running crosseyed. It don’t pay to get up early.

I ran into Saucerhead Tharpe four blocks from home. He wasn’t alone. I didn’t duck in time.

“Hey, Butthead Boy,” Winger bellowed. “I seen you. Don’t you be trying to hide.” The woman has a tendency toward loud. Tharpe seemed embarrassed to be caught in her company.

Winger is a good-looking woman. Blond, with the right stuff in all the right places, and the gods were generous when they built the best parts. But there are detractions from those natural attractions. Her size and her attitude.

Winger is as tall as me. And argumentative on her best day. Lucky me, I manage to avoid her a lot nowadays.

Saucerhead tried to look apologetic without saying anything that would get him an ass kicking. “I done some checking on that thing you wanted me to find. I know where it’s hid.”

“Do you? You know where it is now?” Because I could see Penny Dreadful down the block, conspicuously inconspicuous as she lurked and loitered. She was tailing Tharpe and his convoy. No doubt trying to find out who was sneaking around her and why.

A squeak of a voice caught my ear. “Are you really Garrett? The Garrett? The man who-?”

“Yeah,” Winger said. “That’s him. Definitely the man who.”

Set beside Winger this guy was almost invisible. He was ten inches shorter, bone skinny, bone pale, twitchy as a whore in church. “Jon Salvation, Mr. Garrett. It’s a huge honor to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“His name is Pilsuds Vilchik,” Winger barked. “I call him the Remora.”

Jon Salvation broke out a big, nervous smile.

Saucerhead said, “He’s the boy I told you about. Follows Winger around and writes up everything she does.”

Jon Salvation smiled again and bobbed his head.

I asked, “How come?”

Winger said, “On account of I’m a heroic figure and I’m so busy being heroic I don’t have time to write my own saga down.”

“Not to mention that you’re illiterate, eh?”

Saucerhead chuckled. “The real story is, she let the boy have a little one time when she was plotzed. He liked it so much she ain’t been able to shake him since.”

Winger snarled, “That ain’t what happened. Not quite.”

I glanced at Jon Salvation. Seemed he didn’t mind being talked about like he wasn’t there. The story of his life, probably. Some people are like that. Naturally invisible. There are years when I envy them.

Salvation produced a little board with sheets of cheap paper fastened to it by rivets at the top. He scribbled furiously using the writing stick we make in the manufactory where I’m a minor shareholder.

Feel sorry for them if you like. Jon Salvations create themselves.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said. “Don’t write down anything the Watch can use for evidence.” I wondered what he’d done in the war. Obviously, he’d survived.

Winger sneered.

I told her, “You’re always on the edge, sweetie.” That’s her nature. The way she wants it. Fine by me. As long as she don’t drag me in. “Saucerhead. One more time. Where’s the item of interest right now?”

“On the shelf, I reckon. Worried about getting out and about.”

“Actually, she’s right over there, skulking around in front of Scuttleman’s coal yard. Watching you.”

Nobody looked. Not even the Remora. Tharpe muttered, “Damn sharp for a kid.”

“I don’t know.” Plenty of kids Penny’s age are resourceful enough to survive. Saucerhead was one himself once upon a time. “This one may have more talents and resources than most.”

Saucerhead eyed me expectantly.

I told him, “I’m headed home. If somebody turned up at my door with a special prize, I might turn up holding a fat bonus.”

“Gotcha.”

Winger tried to horn in, hoping she could carve off a slice. I ignored her, which isn’t always wise. She’s liable to knock you down just to get your attention. “Good job, Saucerhead. Thing you could do next is, find Harvester Temisk.”

“The shyster?”

“Him. Don’t be obvious. Especially not if you find him. Teacher White wants him, too. And not to give him a birthday present.”

“Gotcha.”

“Later, then. Winger. How about you stun the gods above and the gods below speechless?“

“What?”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“You’re a complete horse’s ass, Garrett.”

“But snuggly, warm and lovable.”

“Like one a them giant porkypine thunder lizard things.”

She is a woman. She will have the last word. Since they live longer, there was no point me trying to win out of stubborn. I made my getaway.

Jon Salvation wrote it all down.