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.
“Now that we’re civil, what can I do for you, Captain List?” The Dead Man hadn’t explained what he’d sent me. I assumed he’d raided the heads of List’s companions for perspective. “Have a seat.”
Captain List sat. Chuckles would be sedating him some.
List’s companions remained at the doorway. The one with a uniform jacket offered a slight nod of approval.
“What can I do for my friends in the Watch?”
Captain List was confused. “Uh… Colonel Block wants to know why you defaced the Bledsoe and stole certain metal ornaments.”
“I didn’t. If that happened, I had nothing to do with it.” Which was true.
List believed me, a remarkable eventuation for an officer of the law.
Dean brought refreshments, identical little trays for List and his companions.
In minutes List relaxed and, puzzled, was trying to swap jokes. He butchered every attempt. A born diplomat, I tossed in the occasional charitable chuckle. I said, “It’s still early, but if anybody wants a beer?…”
Something stirred behind List’s eyes. Bingo! I knew his vice without Old Bones clueing me in. A problem with drink combined with a vile personality is a recipe for unpleasant excitement.
Captain List won that fall with his demon. It was early in the day. The devil wasn’t wide-awake and thirsty yet.
Then Dean appeared with a tray of frosty mugs. Nobody shunned the opportunity.
Dean said, “I’ll need to go out today, Mr. Garrett. Unless you choose to stop entertaining. We’re down to the bottom of the backup keg.”
“Ouch.”
“There’s wine in the cellar. But it’s probably gone off.”
“We’ll arrange something. Later.”
One beer should leave the man marked by aroma enough to make him suspect.
“I suppose.”
Captain List frowned. “You suppose?”
“I suppose it’s time to get back to work. Dean, do you have your shopping list? Where did he go?”
The Watchman in the blue jacket told me, “He went back to your kitchen.”
I got up. List did the same. We shook hands, me thanking him for coming by.
Keep him moving. Do not give him time to think.
Which I did. And during his flustered exit he did what might be the only socially useful deed he’d ever perform. “Dagon’s balls, man!” he snarled at Mr. Mulclar. “Did a skunk crawl up your ass and die? Do something! You could gag a maggot.”
The Watchman not in uniform hung back. “I don’t know what you just did, buddy, but if you figure out how to bottle it, I want some. I’ve got to babysit that asshole six days a week.”
“Some time when there’s just you and him in a bad part of town, get behind him with a board and whack him in the back of the head.“
The man grinned. “I like the way you think. Shit. There he goes, starting to whine.”
I turned to head back inside to visit the Dead Man. Mr. Mulclar asked, “Do I have a problem, Mr. Garrett?”
“Sir?”
“That fellow that just left said…”
“Yes, Junk, you’re eating too much kraut. That’s something you can change, though. He’ll never stop being a dickhead.” I hurried on into the Dead Man’s room. “Was there a point to any of that?”
That man is, in effect, Colonel Block’s second-in-command. He is convinced that he will replace the Colonel before the end of the year. He has been assured that that will be the case.
“There’s a plot to get rid of Block?” I was surprised but not amazed. “Is List more competent than he lets on?”
Less. Under his supervision the Watch will collapse back to its corrupt old days. At best. At worst he will become a puppet of conspirators no more competent than he. They discount Deal Relway because he is not of their social stratum.
“Then they’re in for a nasty surprise.”
Indeed. The nastiest. There is no practical brake on Mr. Relway but Westman Block. Who removes the Colonel sows the whirlwind.
“Did we find out anything else useful?”
If you are interested in making a chain-of-command chart for the Watch, we now have all the names. Or if you’re interested in the identities of informants and undercover operatives who work for Colonel Block, we have that. The list includes one Sofgienec Cardonlos. Never legally married.