Wicked Bronze Ambition

95

Dex wasn’t all with us yet. He said, “Yes. Of course. Bad news brings me here. Bad, bad news.” He had lost some perceived time. “Only I found more badness already cooking here.”

“And I’m going to have to squeeze it out of you. Right?”

“Yes. No! I’m sorry. I’m totally frayed. . I don’t know. . Damn! There I go!”

Gently as I could I began removing dogs and pretty girls so I could go for his throat. Morley stepped between us and helped Dex up. He suggested, “You really must get to it.”

“It’s Feder, Mr. Garrett, sir! Master Kyoga’s son. He and his friend Konshei were killed during the night. They went to a place they had no business being at their ages, particularly in current circumstances. The witnesses the Specials caught said a monster broke in. Six people were killed besides the boys. Also something that might have been Feder’s Dread Companion. It was big with scaly green skin before it was torn apart. Parts were missing, including the head. The monster also left pieces behind, so it didn’t get off easy.”

I heard a soft scuff, glanced toward Singe’s office. Mariska and Tara Chayne stood in the doorway, both stricken, probably not for the same reasons.

Moonblight observed, “Kyoga will go crazy.”

“How might he do that?” Orchidia asked. She sort of danced around Dean and Penny as they picked up.

“Orchidia. .” Mariska breathed it. “He. . He couldn’t. . He just wouldn’t. .”

“What, Mariska?” Orchidia asked. “Mr. Garrett?” I stared at the front door while thinking about the Black Orchid. Who told me, “My skills will be available in your hunt. I thought well of Furious Tide of Light.”

It was puzzling the way she had examined Hagekagome and had spoken so gently despite the stress of the situation. That didn’t fit, in a couple of ways.

Tara Chayne said, “Kyoga will go after his father now. Nothing but death will stop him. I can’t believe that Meyness would sacrifice his own grandson.”

“Meyness? As in Meyness Stornes? Kyoga’s father?”

There was a compelling quality to Orchidia’s voice. You would have to focus ferociously to keep from responding.

“Meyness Stornes. Alive, yes. One of the Operators. Possibly the chief Operator.”

“Setting aside my uncertainty as to what an Operator might be, I’ve always thought that Meyness Stornes died in the Cantard.”

“So everyone believed until yesterday.” Tara Chayne refrained from mentioning that Mariska had known the truth, at least for a while. Maybe for a long time. There was some family solidarity between those old girls, however much bitterness they shared.

I doubt that Orchidia was deceived. She knew more than she admitted. She had been willing to risk the Dead Man seeing the true depth of her knowledge-though by now she had to know that he was on the snooze. Meanwhile, though, she would be fishing with the sharks.

I tried me a winsome, knowing smile, like Old Bones might be sharing with me now, but I wouldn’t tell. Gentle deception. “Tara Chayne, talk to me. But wait! Dex. Was Kyoga at our house when he got word?”

“No, sir. He was at the other house with Barate, the doctor, and Richt Hauser, all heads together with Lady Constance, planning deeper protection for Miss Kevans and Cypres Prose. They had reason to believe that the Prose lad had been tabbed as Miss Kevans’s Mortal Companion.”

“What? Kip? I thought I was. .” I stopped. I had assumed. There had been no “official” declaration. “How come you’re bringing this news?”

“Mashego came to us in a panic. She couldn’t leave Lady Constance for long. Bashir meant to join those going after Magister. .” He stopped before the ultimate reveal, glancing toward Mariska without looking directly.

Orchidia murmured, “I see,” then, at full voice, announced, “We are seeing what, in the technical parlance of the erstwhile combat zone, is classified as a level-one cluster fuck.”

Sounded spot on to me. And at that moment it felt like most of the investigative work done by me and mine had no point. Old-fashioned incompetence on the Operators side made them their own worst enemies.

Kyoga and Barate wouldn’t have much going in a head-to-head but strength and anger. But Richt Hauser. . “Miss Farfoul, ma’am. . Bonegrinder. You’re family. . How strong is he? Do you know?”

“He was quite strong once, but not so much anymore. The war used him up some, but he’s still far more than a lightweight. He has trouble with memory and focus. He’s old and suffers some old man’s frailties.”

Mariska said, “We should try to keep him from getting hurt.”

Her sister and I stared, willing her to say a name. Who? Meyness Stornes? Richt Hauser?

She felt the pressure. She loathed having to open up enough to claim, “He used me.” Then recast that as a query. “Didn’t he?”

She knew but she didn’t want to face the truth. She wanted to slough some of the emotion so part of her could always believe someone else had sabotaged her nostalgic romance.

This Tournament of Swords had been doomed from the start. Everyone involved was a clubfooted incompetent dilettante, going along for someone else’s sake, or just wishful thinking, nobody ready to jump in with fanatical determination-and I shouldn’t leave myself off the list. I could have been much more focused and directed.

Well, it was true that both sides were willing to hurt people.

I noted Morley observing everything with an intense new detachment, the look he got when the Black Orchid side of him wakened. I hadn’t seen that in him lately.

He hadn’t been that way when he arrived. Too busy bickering with Belinda. What changed? Or had he just remembered why they had come?

I glanced around. There was too damned much going on. I needed to simplify. I needed to make me a list, prioritize it, then work my way down.

What should come first? What was critical at the moment?

I wanted to dash over to the cemetery and bribe, sweet-talk, or threaten my way into the Algarda tomb so I could sit and commune with Strafa for a few hours, away from everyone and everything. I had no notion why, but the inclination kept building.

I could see no way that such a visit would be helpful.

The idea probably didn’t really belong on my list even way down.

So. How about I start with. . answering the door?

Somebody wanted in. John Stretch, I figured. Seemed like he was overdue. Or maybe Dollar Dan. Dan had been out of sniffing range of Singe for a rat’s age. At a stretch, it could even be somebody from the Al-Khar wanting something from me without having to give up anything that had been promised under the new go-along-to-get-along arrangement.

I used the peephole.

There was a kid on the stoop. I didn’t recognize him. He was alone. There wasn’t much to him, so he wasn’t likely to be a threat. He looked like he was in a hurry.

“I’m going to open the door, folks. Stand by.”