Glen Cook - Cruel Zinc Melodies

Mindie accepted the presence of the law. What chance did a kid have? She came to me. ‘‘Thank you. They’ll be all right. Daddy will take a while to recover, though. Did you take care of my stuff? I’ll take it back now.’’

I pointed. Shield, sword, ax, and helmet rested on one of the otherwise empty tables. The moonstones were in my coat pocket. I slipped them to her without the red caps noticing. ‘‘You sure you’ll be all right?’’

‘‘I’ll be fine, Mr. Garrett. I have these men to protect me if the monster gets back up.’’ But, for an instant, the frightened child peered out from behind the confident mask dwarves have to show us lesser species.

‘‘All right. I don’t want to be late for supper. But only if you’re absolutely sure.’’

Fleeting dwarfish smile from behind a beard just starting to come in. ‘‘No, you don’t want to miss a meal.’’ And, as I was sliding past the red tops, ‘‘Thank you again, Mr. Garrett.’’

As noted, a heavy, wet snow is a quiet place. And blinding. People are vague shapes till you feel their breath.

How Lurking Felhske found me, I couldn’t imagine. I’d have thought it impossible. Proof he was a genius. But he didn’t surprise me, bath or no bath. Twice he came close enough for me to sense as he sized me up. Then he took a run at me less than a quarter mile from home. Coming at me out of the snow like he was just another miserable traveler slouching along in the opposite direction.

I didn’t actually know it was Felhske then. There was no telltale stench. But I did realize that somebody was sizing me up.

He got the tip of the oak headknocker between the eyes as he drew even, before he could turn and jump me from behind. His knees went wobbly. I got behind him, shoved a knee into his spine while laying my club across his throat. ‘‘Be good, brother.’’ Taking a while to realize who I had, which I did only after I realized I had hold of a very oddly constructed gentleman.

Despite the orangutan shape Felhske conceded his shortcomings as a street fighter. He resigned himself.

‘‘What the hell are you thinking? Your principal is out of action.’’

He twitched. Meaning maybe his employer wasn’t out of the equation after all. ‘‘Who’re you working for?’’

He wasn’t going to talk.

I got his weird long arms up behind him, marched him toward my place. We would let the Dead Man deal.

Old Bones sensed my approach. He touched me lightly, to let me know he was there, then expressed surprise that I wasn’t alone. He couldn’t sense Felhske at all. He suggested I thump the man a couple times to make sure he didn’t start thinking clearly.

His mind is extremely well protected. Bring him right to me. This should be instructive.

‘‘Right.’’ Whatever that meant. Exercising my full wit and reason, in the face of the hints that had been accumulating, I bounded to an improbable conclusion. Barate Algarda had hired Felhske to punish me for lusting after the Windwalker. Or to keep quiet his illegal and immoral goings-on with his female descendants.

I had an old-fashioned, tight-ass upbringing. In my family that stuff would’ve been taken seriously.

So. Furious Tide of Light? She could get her daddy-lover to do something out of character and stupid. But why would she? Even to protect her baby. It wasn’t that big a deal to her. Kevans wasn’t particularly important in this. Was she?

Ah. You will enjoy this. Chuckles was in a lighthearted mood. Come join our guests.

Singe let us in. Her eyes bugged when she saw who I’d caught. ‘‘Look at the hair on him. Maybe he really is a monkey.’’

She was right. Felhske’s head was a briar patch. The rest of him was damned near shaggy as a bear.

I found the full membership of the Faction crowded into the Dead Man’s room, none of them thrilled to be there. Kyra Tate was on hand, too, evidently having lost the capacity to separate herself from Kip Prose. Even the apostate twins, Berbach and Berbain, were in the klatch, identifiable because their mom still dressed them alike. Old Bones must have armed Kip with some especially convincing arguments.

All should be well soon, Garrett. The last Faction problemsrelating to the World have been, or shortly will be, corrected and controlled. But he felt unsure. Something wasn’t going the way he wanted. He was moody.

Did Kip look a little smug over there?

I’d see what I could do about knocking that off his clock.

I said nothing but tried to send the Dead Man the idea that I thought he’d just blown out a cloud of wicked wishful thinking.

Not very amusing, Garrett. I am stressed to my limits.

‘‘Yeah? Want to share?’’

Mr. Felhske is less than six feet away, yet I can barely detect his presence. My sense for all these children is only slightly better. The only open head among them is Miss Tate. There is little of value to be found in there.

‘‘I’m thinking it might not be you. You’re having no luck with the kids?’’

Very little. Every single one has a dual personality. The twins are outright frightening.

‘‘Have you noticed the tonsorial fashion statement?’’

He can see only by using somebody’s else eyes. He borrowed mine. And picked up my suspicions at the same time.

Aha! Yes! Singe. Please pull the hair of whichever youngsteris easiest to reach. As hard as you can! Garrett, stand by to deal with an outraged response.

Singe snatched a fright wig off the gourd of a kid I hadn’t seen before. She yelped, stared at her fingers. The kid turned out to be an attractive young lady with long blond hair, not a pretty boy with good skin.

That is the answer! the Dead Man crowed. Garrett, bless you! You found the answer. I have been a fool. It was in front of me all the time. Once again I have failed to see what I did not expect to see.

He was thrilled. He would’ve gotten up and danced if he could.

No exception but Kyra, those kids weren’t thrilled. They’d been found out. Now all they wanted was to get away.

Old Bones tried to make the blonde help snatch wigs. Painful work. Something in the hair stung and cut my fingers. The cuts burned.

All will be explained now! The Dead Man began trying to control the scalped in an effort to stem that tidal bore of panicky youth dedicated to getting out of our house.

He had the same luck as a cat flung into a room with fifty mice.

I felt his frustration. He had been far gone in his weakened self-confidence. Which did roar back for seconds only.

Chaos reigned. Shrieking kids trampled me and Singe. A blast of winter air filled the hallway as Dean emerged from the kitchen armed with a rolling pin and cast-iron skillet.

He was no help. Too many teenagers wanted out of a place where their secrets might be exposed, all of them at once.

A stunt had been laid on to outwit the grown-ups. It had whipped around and bitten them. Now they were as manageable as a troop of panicky monkeys.

Kip Prose would not be popular with this bunch much longer.

Old Bones, despite the invaluable assistance of Garrett, Pular Singe, and Dean Creech, lost all hope when Lurking Felhske reassessed his resignation to his fate.

Felhske produced a blade that I’d been too dumb to look for and take away. I hadn’t looked because I’d heard the man wasn’t a fighter.

I plowed through the remaining kids and intercepted Felhske. Sort of.

Basically, I deflected him. I didn’t get in a solid hit. I did remove part of his hair. I squeaked. My fingers felt like they were being shredded.

I crashed through Kip and Kyra and some minor furniture. A wall slowed me down. I used the crown of my head to soften the impact.