“You know where the three-wheel manufactory is in Stepcross Pool?”
“Sure.”
“You go find the green door, tell the man there I said you should see Mr. Dale Pickle. Take your tools. They’ll give you all the work you can handle, and then some. And a place to stay, if that’s what you need.”
My business associates, all of whom possess percentages bigger than mine, agree that we should take care of our workers. Max Weider built his brewing empire by valuing and rewarding the people who made it happen for him.
Weider brewing employees are happy and ferociously loyal.
The manufactory could use a man of Mr. Mulclar’s skills. And if he lived in, he’d soon become less aromatic. They wouldn’t let him do his own cooking.
Mulclar did me an immense favor. “If you’ll move out of the way, I can get those hinges fixed. It’ll take maybe an hour.”
Good luck with that, I thought.
I noted that Comstock and Nicolist hadn’t taken their cart. If stolen carts kept turning up out front, there were bound to be questions.
I went in to warn everybody that we wouldn’t have a door for a while.
38
It was quiet in the Dead Man’s, room. Singe and Dean had grown scarce to the point of invisibility. Several guests remained fixed in place. So did the metal statues in their lead-lined coffin.
“Those two had a point, Chuckles. It can’t be long before we have a visit from the Watch.” I heard whispers again. Saying evil things.
Excellent.
“You want them to?”
I hope Colonel Block comes himself.
“There’s a chance. If he thinks you’re snoozing. We’ll never see Relway again, though. He’s too clever and too paranoid to take a chance.”
No doubt.
“You seem distracted.”
I am trying to locate the creature Penny Dreadful. I feel her close by, but she is extremely elusive. Even the pixies could not pinpoint her when I sent them out last night. If the parrot were available…
“He’s gone to a better place, far, far away. Tell me about these statues.” I could make out no words, but the whispers continued.
In a moment. I want to examine an idea I found cowering in the back of your mind.
It must have been skulking around way back there. I couldn’t recall having any that didn’t involve heading back upstairs to Tinnie.
Yes. I do have sufficient capacity. Think about your breathing. You will have to manage for yourself for a while.
“Huh?”
I felt a distinct difference when he let go. I thought he had already.
Minutes later one of our guests got up and sleepwalked out of the house. Focusing on my work, I breathed steadily as I watched him ease past Mr. Mulclar. He didn’t notice the miasma, which had taken over the hallway. He didn’t hear the voices. He was operating on another plane.
Old Bones retained control all the way down to Wizard’s Reach, well away from Mrs. Cardonlos’ place.
So. Now I knew what had been plucked from my brain. A wisp about filling empty heads with conflicting false memories so we could get these people out from underfoot. So we didn’t have to feed them and take them potty and otherwise be weighted down with them.
A second man rose and went away. I didn’t see him off. I didn’t need another exposure to Mr. Mulclar. “Is this premature? Letting them go before we get somebody in to ask about the metal dogs?”
Jackals.
“Whatever. You see my point? Them being missing for a while, then turning up all confused and not knowing anything?”
I see your point. However, you fail to credit me with sufficient ability to confuse the issue.
“I’d never do that.”
Do you recall past instances of dereliction by members of the Watch?
“Sure. There’s probably a lot, but less than before Block and Relway took over.”
The rest of our guests, excepting Skelington, left us eventually.
“So. About these dogs-all right! I know. Jackals. We’ve got them. What about them? What are they? Why have them stolen?” Getting rid of them would suit me fine. Especially if doing so would get rid of the voices in my head.
I have not heard of this cult of A-Laf, but there are suggestive similarities with others, particularly in the matter of the metal animals. If they are nickel, or some alloy that is mainly nickel, their function will be much like that of the nickel figurines that graced the altars of Taintai the Gift some centuries ago.
I’d never heard of Taintai the Gift. But there must be brigades of gods, goddesses, and their supporting casts who haven’t sailed across my bows. Deities come and go. Their cycles are just longer than human ones.
“Interesting stuff, Chuckles. It’d be even more interesting if you’d drop a hint or two about what’s going on.”
I felt his amusement as he sent, That will have to wait. We are about to have official company. Deal with it in your office instead of here.
Vaguely, I caught the edge of a thought directed at Melondie Kadare. My pixie tribe were paying their rent now.
I scooted across to my office. I couldn’t hear the incessant dark whispering over there.
Dean passed me in the hallway, headed for the front doorway. Where, after an hour, Mr. Mulclar did not yet have the bent hinges repaired or replaced.
I wondered if he heard the dark mutterings.
39
There was some racket in the hallway. Dean making offended noises. Somebody had gotten past Mr. Mulclar. More clever than I thought he could be, Dean fought a valiant retrograde action that lured the invader past the Dead Man’s room to the open door of my office.
The man who burst into my office looked like he had been slapped together from parts taken from other people. On the south end he had spindly little legs and almost no butt. On top he had the chest and shoulders of a Saucerhead or Playmate. Then a head that went with his antipodes. All wrapped up in a badly fitted blue uniform.
He came in with mouth a-running. “What do you think you’re doing, stealing religious relics?” Followed by fulminations that grew louder when I failed to acknowledge his presence.
Gently, calmly, conversationally, I asked, “Are you right-handed?”
“Huh? What the hell?”
“Which hand do you use to abuse yourself? That’s the arm I’ll break first.” I ignored his associates. One wore a blue uniform jacket but not the matching trousers. His were brown. Maybe he couldn’t afford the full outfit.
The fact that I remained more interested in paperwork than a raving home invader took the blusterer aback. Clearly, I rated him barely a nuisance.
I pretended to sign something, then looked up. “You didn’t answer me. Nor have you introduced yourself. Are you married?”
“Married?”
“You keep on being an asshole, I’ll need to know where to send the pieces.”
I was playing a dumb, macho game. I could afford to. I had the Dead Man behind me.
Said sidekick let me know, This nimrod is named Ramey List. He is a political appointee assigned to the Watch over the objections ofPrince Rupert, who seems to have had little choice. His rank is captain. He is, nominally, a staff officer. The motive for putting him into the Watch seems to have been both political and to position him where he can get himself killed.
“So that’s what the new staff uniforms look like.”
Captain Ramey List gaped.
His sort aren’t uncommon. He was an incompetent aristocrat who suspected his own shortcomings and compensated by being obnoxious to social inferiors.