Whispering Nickel Idols

53

Butterbutt sent Dean to the door. Dean did try to sneak out. Chuckles didn’t let him. The old boy got all foamy-mouthed about supposed shortages in our stores.

The rest of us got excited about the three bipeds delivered by Scithe and several Relway Runners. Scithe told me, “Ask and ye shall receive. Sign this receipt, Garrett.”

I signed, checked his catch. “The bruno seems a bit dull.”

“That would be his natural state. Though they did drug him up. It was the only way to keep him docile. This other one, you smack him some and he gets cooperative.”

“The long, skinny one the clerk?”

The third man was tall and vague. He slouched with hands in pockets. Defeated. The part in his hair was four inches wide and ran back to his crown.

“Yeah. He’s a twofer. A bonus baby. He’ll do your transcription. Call it public service, to work off bad behavior. The Director gets a kick out of that kind of thing.”

“What’d he do?”

“He poisoned one of our more exotic Karentine subjects.”

I didn’t get it. I was in slow mode.

“Kolda, Garrett. Your herbalist. They ran him down this morning.”

“Relway has a twisted sense of humor.”

“We enjoy it. Got to go. Always more bad boys to catch.”

Dean saw the strongarms of the law to the door. He attempted another escape. Old Bones shut him down. Singe took him back to the kitchen.

I stared at Kolda. Stared and stared. The man almost killed me. Though not deliberately. Teacher White asked for a tool. Kolda delivered. He would’ve sold the same drug to me if I’d asked, with silver in hand.

He does not know who you are.

“Too bad. Suppose we put him to work.” I’d get even later.

Before he started on the Green Pants crew, the Dead Man rifled Kolda’s head. He didn’t find much. You have brought women home who have more between the ears.

“Hey! Tinnie resents that!” Knowing he wouldn’t have included her in his last comment.

He is a power within his own field, however. He could write a major grimoire on medicinal herbs. He is not a social creature. Though he does have a wife and three children.

“Marvelous. Good for him. I can barely keep my eyes open. Before I fall asleep I’d like to know if you mined any nuggets out of these fools.”

Kolda and the Ymberian foreman became suspicious. Kolda turned scared. The Dead Man calmed him down, set him up to record what he dug out of the other two.

Ah. Here is an interesting tidbit. Our once-upon-a-time friends Mr. Crask and Mr. Sadler began their careers as sextons in the A-Laf cult. Chodo Contague suborned them. Not that they were especially devout. Being sextons allowed them to indulge their needs to hurt people.

That sounded like those boys. And my old pal Chodo.

The Dead Man made the equivalent of a girlish squeal of dismay.

“What?” I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Tinnie had gone up to bed already. But she’d had a hard few days.

The smaller one has hidden defenses. Nasty ones. He is pulling them together now. He has only just realized the truth of his situation.

“A little slow, is he?” Not surprising, though. A lot of line boss types amble around with their heads stuck in dark and smelly places.

Our friends in the Unpublished Committee treated him with a preparatory drug, too. Therefore, he is slower than he might be.

Ouch!

“What?”

There are mousetraps in there. I got a finger nipped. This will be challenging. He was excited. And dangerous. He has some minor training in the use of sorcery.

Oh, hell. What did I get myself into now?

I’d worry about it after another nap. If Butterbutt didn’t provoke the Ymberian into imploding the house.