Glen Cook - Bitter Gold Hearts

"A hunt. Of sorts." She did have a promising smile.

"I see. How old are you, Amber?"

"Twenty." She lied. My immediate guess was eighteen going on thirty.

"Uhn. This way." I stalled for time while I led her to my office. There is a side of me that is very fond of women. There is also a side that's wary of those who bring gifts without being asked. When they stand near a center of power and are as changeable and spoiled as this one probably was, I want to play it very carefully. I thought I saw a way.

"I'm a charming scamp, I know. Hurt me to the quick though it does, I'm old enough, plain enough, and poor enough to suspect that maybe my profession has more to do with you being here."

"Maybe." She went on trying to flirt. I had a bad feeling she might be one of those who couldn't deal with a man until she proved to herself she could lead him around by his hopes and fantasies. That kind regards consummation as something to avoid at all costs. She was young but she knew her men well enough to know actually giving in would dilute her power. I assumed she was playing that game, so I did my best to let her think she might get what she wanted without stretching her virtue.

She did appeal. A whole damned lot. But I'll have to know a Stormwarden's daughter a lot better before I take the risks inherent in such a situation.

"There is one thing you could do," she admitted. "But that can wait. Don't you feel crowded in here? Isn't there somewhere else? That old man could walk in anytime."

At which point I made the mistake of sitting down. My sitter was barely in place when a hundred pounds of potential parked her sitter on my lap. So much for Garrett's infallible estimates of members of the female species. She had me going for a minute—until she giggled. I don't like my women to giggle. It makes me doubt their maturity. Still, when the culprit is sitting on your lap, wagging her tail ...

"Mr. Garrett." It was that old man. "Mr. Dotes is here. He says it's important."

Saved!

Damn it.

"Do you have to, Garrett?" "You don't know Morley Dotes. If he comes here, it's important."

I had Amber about half pried loose when Dotes blew in. He stopped and gawked, then that sparkle flashed in his eye. I'm going to throw pepper in there someday just to get tears to wash it out.

"Down, boy. What's going on?"

Amber made a show of neatening herself up. I guess she knew she had it and couldn't help flaunting it.

"Your pal Saucerhead. He's in the Bledsoe carved up bad enough to kill a mammoth."

"Bound to happen in his line of work." Which was pretty much the same as Morley's less public line, so he gave me a sour look when he could steal a second from appreciating Amber. "How did it happen?"

"Don't have much yet. He staggered in from somewhere way the hell out in the country. They say he shouldn't have made it, but you know him. Too stubborn and stupid to die. They don't think he'll make it."

"Who does, down there? What the hell was he doing out in the boondocks?"

Morley gave me a funny look. "I thought you'd know. He left the place early last night because he had a job. Said you recommended him."

"Me? I never... Oh. Damn. I'd better get down there." I had butterflies the size of horses. Amiranda. Had to be.

"I'll stroll along with you, then. I haven't had my exercise today." Far be it from Morley Dotes to admit he had a friend anywhere in the known universe. As he turned to leave, Amber whispered, "Wait, Garrett." The music was out of her voice.

"Is it critical?"

"To me it is."

"Wait for me at the front door, Morley. So. Tell me."

"My brother came home this morning. They let him go."

"Good for him."

"That means Domina paid the ransom."

"Seems likely. So?"

"So there's two hundred thousand gold marks out there somewhere that belong to my family, that somebody couldn't yell about if it got taken away. Do you think you could find it?"

"Maybe. If I wanted to bad enough. A chunk like that, in the hands of amateurs, would leave a trail like a rogue mammoth. The trick would be getting to it before all the other sharpshooters in town."

"Help me find it, Garrett. You can have half."

"Whoa, girl. That's asking for big trouble with no guarantee of any—"

"This may be my first, last, and only chance to make a hit big enough to get away from my mother. If I could get that money before she comes home, I could disappear so thoroughly she couldn't find me with an army. You could do pretty good with a hundred thousand, too."

"That I could. That I could."

She posed. "And there are ancillary benefits, too."

"Yes. Yes indeed. I'll need some time to think about what I'd need and what I'd have to do. In the meantime, I've got a friend in the infirmary trying to die. I want to see him before he goes."

"Sure." She didn't sound thrilled to hear about obligations imposed by friendship. "I'll come back tomorrow if I can get away from Courter and his bullies. Next day for sure. Maybe you could give that old man the day off." She turned on the smile.

"Maybe I'll think about that too."

She giggled. "You do that."

I patted her fanny. "Come on. Off with you. My friend Morley will be getting impatient." I followed her to the front door. There is nothing I can say to disparage the view from that perspective.

Dean was waiting to bolt up after me, which meant he had been eavesdropping again. I shot him an ugly glare, but it ricocheted like water off the proverbial duck.

Morley was waiting outside. While I stood listening to Dean shoot the bolts, we appreciated Amber's departure.

"Where do you find them, Garrett?"

"I don't. They find me."

"Bull feathers."

"It's true. I just sit here like a big old trapdoor spider and nab them when they walk by. Then I turn on the Garrett charm and they swoon into my arms."

"That one is no swooner, Garrett. The one the other night wasn't, either. High Hill fluff, both of them. Right?"

"Off the Hill. I wouldn't call them fluff."

"No. Probably not." He sighed. "Why doesn't something like that ever turn up at my place?"

"You're doing all right from what I see. Don't get your heart set on this one. You'd be asking for a visit from the whirlwind. Her mother is a Stormwarden."

"Another dream shattered by bitter reality. Still, it's a pity. A pity—that's sweet. Let's go see Saucerhead and find out which way to lay our bets."

The Bledsoe infirmary is an imperial charity, meaning it's supposed to provide medical care for the indigent. If you're in the place, though, your chances improve a hell of a lot if you or a friend happen to come up with some cash. Human nature, I guess. I'm not always the biggest fan of my own species. They weren't going to let me near Saucerhead at first. He was supposedly in real bad shape and would be checking out very soon. Then somebody saw the flash of gold between my fingers and heard a hint or two about metal changing hands if the prognosis improved, and first thing you knew the whole infirmary had a new attitude. Zip! Morley and I were in Saucerhead's ward watching a gang of physicians and healers do their stuff.

Saucerhead looked terrible when they started, paper pale after losing what appeared to be several gallons of blood. He didn't look much better when they finished, but his breathing was steadier, less inclined to the characteristic sighs. I scattered a few marks and showed that I had a few more that might want to keep the others company. Saucerhead didn't do anything but breathe for a couple of hours. Good enough by me. That put us a few points up on Death.

Morley spoke only once the entire time we were waiting, in a tiny whisper. "If I ever get so desperate I come in here, you come cut my throat and put me out of my misery." The remark illuminated the side of Morley Dotes with a morbid dread of sickness. After this visit he would be on double rations, stoking up on green leafies and whatnot, for weeks.