"What was that?" Carla Lindo finally managed.
"That was Winger. Try not to aggravate her. She's kind of like an earthquake. Not a whole lot of self-restraint."
"I believe it," in a tone of total disbelief. Then, "Look at that!" as excited as a little kid. Her attention span wasn't much longer than Winger's.
I looked.
Easterman had him a dragon.
A flying thunder-lizard was tethered atop the battlements of the runt black castle. It was being tended by a whole gang of morCartha doing their best to look like little devils. Easterman had them outfitted in some kind of suits but I couldn't make out details. When they realized we were watching, they started howling and carrying on. The thunder-lizard started screeching. It seemed more bewildered than put out.
Carla asked, "Isn't that neat?"
I was beginning to wonder about that girl. "The loonies have taken over. Maybe I ought to start cutting out paper dolls and practicing talking backward."
Carla Lindo didn't get it.
Winger dropped the old man inside the entrance. He had caught his breath and, despite all, had lost none of his dignity "If you will follow me, sir? And madame." Some kind of look passed between him and Carla Lindo.
What now?
He led us to the room where I'd met Easterman before. The place had changed. A wall or two had been knocked out to make it bigger and it had been redecorated in black and red. They'd brought in a big ugly black throne carved all over with the ugly sisters of those gals you wake up with the morning after a night when you drank one gallon of popskull too many. There was a lot of indirect, shifting red light that was supposed to make you think it had been piped in from Hell itself. And the resident mental basket case had added some new employees to the payroll. They included six of the biggest, ugliest, fangiest ogres I've ever seen. Tittering morCartha in formal evening wear were all over the place.
Easterman's regulars, the old thugs with seniority, seemed embarrassed by the company they were keeping. One actually whispered, "He pays real good."
"God, I hope so." I began to wonder if Fido hadn't picked out Winger's wardrobe.
Easterman waited till he could make an entrance.
The fat man had him a new outfit, too. He'd chosen a few square miles of red accented with acres of black, I realized the black consisted entirely of little eyes.
Oh, my. Every eye was alive and looking around, blinking, or maybe winking over some private joke.
Easterman struggled up the steps of his throne, finally fell into its seat. There's why I'm running, I told myself. So I don't get like that... Oh, my, all over again. When his well-larded behind hit the seat, all those uglies carved on the throne got excited and started whispering to each other.
I gaped and gawked and wondered how he had come up with all this when he couldn't enchant a rock into falling down, Then I got worried. Had he won the race? Had he grabbed the Book of Dreams?
I'd almost rather Chodo laid hands on it first. Chodo was predictable.
Fido got himself settled. He beamed down benevolently. More or less. "Mr. Garrett. I'm so happy you came calling, sir. What do you think, sir?" He gestured. "Is this not an impressive setting?"
"Yeah. It's that." It was. "But I'm kind of partial to the old setup. Know what I mean?" It was only ninetypercent whacko before.
"We must change with the times, sir. We must change with the times. These present changing times are intriguing, are they not, sir? Here you are, an appellant, when but a short time ago you turned your back on me, a strutting cock. Yes sir, changing times
Carla Lindo gave me a puzzled look. I guess she didn't know about my earlier chat with Fido. I asked, "Where did you get the idea I came here to beg for something?" That fat clown had my nerves frayed already. I should have been amused, should have had trouble keeping a straight face, but something kept making me want to hop up there and plant a boot in his face.
Not a smart move with all those ogres there to save his jowls.
"Plague!"
The old man did the hopping.
Easterman and the old guy traded melodramatic whispers while taking turns staring at me. Fido's gaze flicked to Carla Lindo. He started looking puzzled. I had the impression he'd expected me to drop on my knees and crawl. I wasn't and didn't look like I would and maybe had no idea why I was supposed to.
Puzzled turned to troubled, Easterman stared at me, eyes narrowed more than seemed possible. "Are you making mock, sir?"
"I'm not doing anything but standing here. I don't know what your problem is, Fido. Sorry, I'm not doing what you expect. I just dropped by with my friend Carla Lindo to ask who all you told about her business here in town."
"What?"
"Miss Ramada stayed here when she first came to TunFaire, right? She asked who could help her find a little bauble somebody swiped from her dad...
"I've never seen this woman before, sir."
"People told her to come to me. Right? So..." I stopped chattering.
Fido popped up and glared around. He eyeballed Carla Lindo. He sputtered. Spit flew. For a second I thought he was going to have a seizure/
I didn't really get it till Carla Lindo unfroze and started tugging on my arm and shaking her head. Long after the whole herd of cats had flown out of the bag. She maybe stayed here, but old Fido hadn't been in on it.
Easterman started roaring endearing sobriquets like Famine, War, and Pestilence. He took a moment out to tell his ogres, "Get that man out of here! I don't want to look at his ugly face another second." Then he went to foaming at the mouth.
Well. I never. Ugly? Maybe a little battered around the edges, but the dogs don't howl... I didn't wait for the ogres. I latched on to Carla Lindo and headed for the exit. No sense dancing with those boys. The mood I was in, suddenly I'd have tried to break a head or three. I wouldn't have been able to do the job justice before the sky collapsed on me.
"That was real bright, Garrett," Carla Lindo said as soon as we hit the street. "You have a real golden tongue."
"You could have told me something up front. You could have given me one teensy hint. The Dead Man is the mind reader, not me." I spun around and dared an ogre to bring it out into the street. He looked over his shoulder to see how much help he'd get. He had no cavalry on the way. He just waved bye-bye. An ogre with sense. The times they are a-changing.
I faced Carla Lindo. "So what else haven't you told me, sweetheart? You want me to help, you got to give me the tools. What the hell was that all about in there, anyway?"
She shrugged, stared at the pavement. "I didn't know... I never saw any of that before. I stayed with my uncle. My mother's brother. One of the servants. When they took us to that room... I only ever saw that man from a distance before. My uncle just said he was a little potty.''
"A little, yeah. Here you had me thinking you had an in with some Hill bigwigs." I added another score to the list needing settling with the Dead Man. He could have warned me. His idea of a joke, probably, letting me find out the hard way.
"I sort of wanted you to think..."
"I figured that out."
A shadow fell on the conversation, which was about to sneak on toward making up. Making up is always full of promise when a guy and a gal are doing it.
"Yo, Garrett! That was some brilliant show you put on in there. You foxed the old boy right out of his garters."
"Don't you start on me, Winger You want something, spit it out. If you don't, you better scoot back in there and make sure old Fido don't choke on his rug. You might miss a payday."
"Hey. Here I come trying to be friendly, trying to build some bridges, and all you want is to start a fight."