Wicked Bronze Ambition

33

Belinda beckoned me right away, already aware that I was in the house. She indicated a seat opposite her at a table she had to herself. “You look a little ragged.”

I gave her my morning’s sad tale of woe, studying her as I jabbered. Time was not being kind.

She was a beautiful woman, but, then, her father had collected those when he was younger. Belinda’s mother had been one of the great beauties of her time. Belinda herself had extremely pale skin and dark hair technically augmented to be even darker and glossier. Her eyes were a stunning blue. As always, she wore intense scarlet lip coloring. Today she was dressed as though she was as rich as she was, instead of the usual down.

She seemed tired.

We’re friends because I saved her soul back in a day when she was determined to avenge her mother by indulging in self-destructive behavior. She meant everything to her father, Chodo. Bad behavior was a way to make the old man hurt. We had been more than friends for a while, then friends with occasional benefits till we settled into our present people-we-can-always-count-on friendship. There were times when she could creep me out as thoroughly as Shadowslinger did.

She wasn’t really sane. Like the worst sociopaths, she could fake sanity almost perfectly.

“So how are you doing otherwise?” she asked. “Handling it?”

“Doing all right, I think. Better than I expected at first. I guess experience helps even when it comes to grief.”

“Most people get on better than they expect. I think it’s built in. Once the crunch does come, we soldier on for the sake of the other survivors.”

Interesting that she could see the social interconnectedness of our species even though she was incapable of participating genuinely herself.

Morley brought a freshwater prawn, clam, and mussel platter that I loved but could not afford. He placed it in front of me. I could not lie. “God, that smells good.” They hadn’t been miserly with the garlic.

Morley settled into the chair nearest Belinda.

The lunch crowd, mainly from the theater across the street, envied me this sign of favor. Morley Dotes was a celebrity as a restaurateur.

He told me, “I sent a couple men to backtrack your route. I doubt they’ll find anything, but they could get lucky.” He was more than the restaurateur he pretended. I had stopped looking at the horse’s teeth years ago. And he was a lot more laid-back about his shadow behavior these days. Putting years and ounces on, in a business environment suffering from an ever more intense case of law and order fever, might be why.

“Thanks. You didn’t need to do that. I can get Singe to. .”

“Yes. I did need to. I owe you for the zombie thing.”

I tried to wave him off. That was no big deal. We were the next thing to brothers. Better than brothers. I never got along with Mikey as well when we were kids.

And Belinda wanted to talk.

She had a hard time starting, but she is nothing if not willful and determined. “How is my sister doing, Garrett? Really?”

Well. That was a stunner. I exchanged glances with Morley. She had not been inclined to address this ever before. She was becoming more human. Morley’s influence?

Penny Dreadful is also Chodo’s daughter. She shares nothing else with Belinda. The father hunt had drawn Penny to TunFaire originally, but that had ceased to matter much once she figured it all out. It hadn’t meant much to Belinda, either, from the indifference she had shown till now.

Her showing any interest was a surprise.

I didn’t editorialize. “She’s doing good. You saw her at the funeral and the wake. She’s pulled herself together. Dean, Singe, and the Dead Man all helped. She’ll be a fine woman someday.” I was prepared to leave it at that.

So was she, probably thinking that she had shown enough weakness for one day.

Morley did feel compelled to add, “She’s an excellent artist, too.”

I stabbed a clam with my fork. “This is really good, Morley. You changed the recipe.”

He understood. It was a new subject time. “I had them add more crushed garlic and replaced cow’s milk with goat’s milk in the sauce.”

Belinda added, “They started putting in some kind of grub you get out of rotten logs, too.” She used her own butter knife to indicate a clam strip that did look a little like a grub.

I made a face. “I’m out of practice on the jungle gourmet. . Damn!” I realized that she was messing with me.

The woman could keep a straight face.

Morley’s jaw tightened, though not because his kitchen was being disparaged and he had no sense of humor about that. He was looking toward the front door. A rowdy crowd had begun to roll in. They came from across the street, from the World. They were in a good mood, collectively. A dress rehearsal had gone well.

One was a skinny little guy in doublet and hose. He wore his hair long under a goofy floppy hat with a peacock feather sticking out in back. The costume was not suited to the play or the street. He spotted me, abandoned his crew, headed my way.

Jon Salvation, playwright. I had to thank him for making time for the funeral. .

My throat filled with a sudden lump. If this was the crew from his new play, The Faerie Queene, then. .

That explained why Morley had gone green around the gills.

He moved so Salvation could sit. Belinda did not object. I finally grasped the fact that Salvation was not in costume. He was outfitted weirdly on purpose, making some kind of statement.

He had been weird from the beginning. Weird before he found out that he could slap his tall tales down on paper as cracking-good stories for the stage.

Morley told him, “It’s good to see you back, Jon. I’ll go see if the boys need help handling your mob.”

What he did was place himself between us and that crowd in case my ex did not have her hatches battened, her ducks lined up, and her screws sufficiently tightened.

Tinnie had the lead role in The Faerie Queene. Jon Salvation had created the part for her unpredictable self. The Faerie Queene was Tinnie Tate as Jon Salvation thought he knew her from an extended acquaintance.

Tinnie Tate is a high-maintenance redhead with a quiver full of quirks, but she is good people. She would be in pain, still, because of Strafa, and, no doubt, she was confident that I had abandoned her simply because Strafa was more pliable.

And there she was, looking good for a heartbroke woman.

Our gazes met. Her laughter died, but what replaced it wasn’t hatred or anger, it was sorrow. She knew what had happened. Her niece Kyra had come to the funeral.

She inclined her head slightly, then moved on with her crowd, one of whom was Max Weider’s daughter, Alyx. Alyx did not have a sympathetic look for me. She and Tinnie were longtime friends. She was Tinnie’s understudy for the Faerie Queene.

Jon Salvation observed, “I guess that went well.”

“You disappointed?” Belinda asked.

“Oh. No. Not me.”

I asked, “How has she been doing?”

“She’s doing all right, Garrett. Staying wrapped up in her work. She’ll manage.”

“Good. That’s good. I never meant to hurt her.”

Belinda gave me a profoundly curious look, like she couldn’t believe I could say that and believe it.

But Salvation chirped, “She gets that. Part of the time. She’s her own worst critic. Speaking of former girlfriends. . How is mine?”

“Winger? She’s Winger. She’s sharing a place with Saucerhead, just to save on rent. There’s nothing else there. The Dead Man has her running errands. Singe hires her when she has something that isn’t time-sensitive.”

Friend Winger gets distracted easily.