"Want to build a bridge?" I grumbled "Tell me what's with the new look in there. What's with the zoo on the roof?"
"Old goof is getting set for the new era. Getting his props together so he'll have the right look once he gets hold of the Book of Dreams."
"Huh?" That's Garrett. Swift on the uptake.
"Claims he knows where it is."
"Where?"
"He didn't tell me. He don't trust me."
Couldn't say I blamed him for that. Winger would sell him out to the highest bidder if she got the chance. "Any hints?"
She shook her head. "Just said it's there for the taking soon as he figures how to get past one big obstacle."
Probably like not knowing where it was. "The Serpent? Chodo Contague grabbed her last night." Finding some guile at last, I figured maybe I could keep an eye on Fido, grab the book from him after he grabbed it, before he could start using it.
"We heard. Who cares? He isn't interested in her, except to stay out of her way and grab the book before she does."
All hell broke loose overhead. Daytime or not, the morCartha from Fido's roof went on the warpath. Easterman's human servants yelled at them to come back or get fired. I asked, "What the hell?"
Winger said, "They do that. Probably spotted a critter from another tribe."
"I should've stayed in bed." This was all Dean's fault.
"You know where the book is, Garrett?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I? I'd be waving bye-bye to my friend at the west gate." I gave Carla Lindo a one-armed hug I'd at least be trying to collect a suitable reward.
Winger ignored Carla Lindo. "We got to have a sit-down, see what we can come up with if we put our heads together."
"Right."
She didn't catch my sarcasm. I think she was immune to it, or at least deaf. Besides being color-blind. She said, "That thing's still worth a fortune, Garrett. Word is, there's a dwarf willing to put up big money for it. More than Easterman would"
"You going to turn on him?"
"If there's money in it." Like maybe I had that kind of cash. Sure. In my sock. She said, "He never did nothing to make me want to stay loyal. He treats them damned ogres better than me and they don't have my seniority."
I chuckled. "You're one in a million, Winger."
"I know. But don't let it get to you. I ain't ready to settle down. But you'll be first on my list when I am."
I don't often get caught without something to say. I did that time. I just stood there with my mouth open wondering if maybe she wasn't a whole lot sharper than I thought.
She said, "You get a line on that book and you need some help, get in touch. I'll go in for a split." She marched back toward Easterman's hovel.
Carla Lindo snickered. "You've made a conquest."
I bellowed. She took off, giggling. I took off after her. People stared. She didn't run too fast. I didn't either. The view was much too entertaining from second place.
This was more like life ought to be.
I caught her. She leaned against me, panting, making it plain she was willing to be caught. Hell. There we were in the middle of a street with nowhere to go.
That's the story of my life. Whenever I do win the prize, I can't collect. "Let's go home and try to figure out where the hell Easterman thinks that book is." I had a feeling he Was sure he knew where it was. Thinking that gave me an idea. "Any chance this uncle of yours would know what his boss is thinking?"
"No." She looked sad. "And if he did he wouldn't tell. He's really afraid he'd never get another job if Easterman throws him out. He's too old."
"Wonderful." We walked a ways, snuggling. I felt just a touch guilty doing that only a couple of blocks from Tinnie. Must be getting old. "You really still need the book? Chodo's got the Serpent. I'd say it's a safe bet she won't be back to haunt your dad"
She had to think about that awhile. Most of the way home, in fact. Then she said, "I could go home without it, I guess. But only if I was sure it'd been destroyed. My father would never forgive me if I didn't."
Well, hell.
34
I was still explaining to the Dead Man and getting hell for not having snatched Fido by the short hairs and twisted till he sang when Dean stuck his head in the room. "There's a gentleman to see you, Mr. Garrett."
I'd heard the knock. I'd hoped it was for me. The Dead Man was way up on his high horse, really smoking. I couldn't get a word in to suggest he consider the facts of the situation. I guess I was supposed to have taken care of Fido's troops with my free hand while I was twisting and yanking and humming along.
The gentleman at the door wasn't. That was Dean's way of making a snide social observation. The guy was a mixed-breed kid of obscure antecedents sneaking up on adolescence. His outstanding feature was the most awful set of teeth I've ever seen. He could pass as an ugly ogre or uglier human if you needed a stand-in for one of those. He said, sneering, "You Garrett?" Like he'd heard of me and wasn't impressed.
"Last time I checked."
"Got a paper for you." He shoved something at me and lit out before he saw if I had a grip on it. I didn't, it fell onto the stoop, started tumbling on the breeze. I dashed out and hunted it down. Naturally, the door swung shut behind me. The latch fell and caught. I cussed it and kicked and pounded till Dean let me in. He didn't say anything, just smirked, "Go scrub a pot or something," I grumbled.
I took myself to my office, planted me in my chair. I asked Eleanor, "Why the hell don't I take that job at the brewery? There something wrong with me? I enjoy abuse?
I could get me a room right there in the plant. You and me. I could go tap a vat whenever the mood hit me. I could spend the rest of my life holed up there."
Eleanor didn't have any answers. She just gave me her enigmatic look. Nobody was on my side anymore. I uncrumpled the wad of paper.
It was a note, but it took me a while to decipher the primitive printing. Before it became a vehicle for deathless prose, it had been used to wrap fried fish or something.
"We got to talk. Sinkler. Statue. Soon. Sadler."
Interesting. I hadn't thought he could read or write. He wasn't a threat to anybody doing illuminated manuscripts but he was a match for any educated seven-year old. And he had all the words spelled right. Amazing.
Sadler. One of my many missing men. I couldn't turn him down.
But when to meet? He didn't state a time.
I didn't jump up and run over, though. Despite my interest. That sort of thing isn't done if you care to survive in this line. There are proprieties one observes when dealing with mysterious messages. Like sending some sucker... er, friend... to scout the terrain. "Hey, Dean." I didn't have anybody else left.
"I have dishes and laundry to do, Mr. Garrett. One extra body seems to triple the workload around here." This from the kitchen, shouted.
"Wait a minute."
"I don't have time to run any errands."
Who the hell is the mind reader around here? "How did you know .
"That's your favor-asking voice. Perhaps you could send Miss Ramada."
He sucked me in there. I wouldn't send Carla Lindo. And because I wouldn't, he'd know I hadn't been about to send him after rutabagas so we could have rutabaga pie tonight. In the following silence I could almost hear his brain creaking and squeaking as he mulled over how to get even for me even considering getting him involved in something chancy.
I caught the edge of a mental chuckle from across the hall. I was everybody's entertainment. I got up and plodded into the kitchen, drew me a beer. "You're going to stay on after I get married, aren't you? We're going to need all the help we can get."