Glen Cook - Sweet Silver Blues

The possibility had occurred to me. I'd made a mental note to rummage up some of my more interesting gimmicks and armaments. In the general course of business I find being fast on my feet protection enough, so I load myself down with hardware only in special cases.

This case looked like it was getting pretty special.

The Dead Man had warned me.

"Where's Morley?"

"Up." He pointed. "He's busy."

I headed for the stairs.

The barkeep opened his mouth to yell at me, then thought about it. That might start a riot. In his friendly voice he said, "Hey, Garrett, you owe us five marks."

I turned around and gave him the fisheye.

"Saucerhead said you'd knock it off his tab."

"A grin like that ought to be bronzed and saved for posterity."

It got bigger.

"That big goof isn't as dumb as he looks, is he?" I dug down carefully, my back to the crowd. No point in showing what I was carrying and having the boys who were high on lettuce getting fancy ideas.

"Nope."

I flipped the five coins and headed upstairs before he could get back to trying to stop me.

I hammered on Morley's private door. No response. I pounded again, rattling hinges.

"Go away, Garrett. I'm busy."

I shoved through the door, which was not locked. Somebody's wife squealed and dove into another room, a fistful of clothing trailing. Otherwise, I caught nothing but a flash of fancy tail. It was not one I recognized.

Morley did his best to look elf-haughty in nothing but his socks and a snarl. He could not bring it off, despite being half darkelf.

"Your timing is lousy as usual, Garrett. Not to mention your manners."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Magic."

"Magic, my ruddy red. You have trouble making food disappear. If you call that silage you eat food."

"Ah-ah. Watch your mouth. You owe me one apology already."

"I don't apologize. My mother makes excuses for me. How did you know it was me?"

"Voice tube from the bar. You look awful, boy. Saucerhead must have sold that gal his top of the line. What did you do to her?"

"Wouldn't lie, cheat, and steal for her. And turned her down when she tried to bribe me with the big bribe."

He laughed. "You never learn. Next time diddle the gal and walk. She'll sit around wondering what went wrong instead of sending cutthroats after you." His grin vanished. "What do you want, Garrett?"

"I've got a job offer for you."

"Not something foolish involving Saucerhead Tharpe, I hope."

"No. I've got a job I need some backup on. I can thank Saucerhead for reminding me that if I don't get it soon my health might suffer."

"What's in it?"

"For me, ten percent of a hundred thousand marks, plus expenses. You're expenses."

He whistled soundlessly, his pucker bringing his dark hatchet features to even more of a point. "What do we have to do? Take out one of the Venageti warlords?"

"You're closer than you think. I have to go into the Cantard and find a woman who just inherited on the up side of a hundred thou. I have to talk her into either coming here to claim it or waiving her claim in favor of whoever is next in line."

"That doesn't sound so tough. Except for the part about the Cantard."

"There are some people around who might feel that the money was not the deceased's to bequeath. There are some in the deceased's family who feel a strong reluctance to let so large a fortune go to a stranger. There is the possibility of similar difficulties on the legatee's end. It's possible her relationship with the legatee was, shall we say, imprudent."

"I love it when you talk dirty, Garrett. And I love what money does to you humans. It's the only thing that saves you from being totally tedious."

I did not have anything to say to that. People do get silly about money.

"I take it your principal has his own ax to grind in this, or he'd be with the keep-it-in-the-family faction."

"Could be."

"Is he as nebulous as you are?"

"Could be. You interested?"

"Could be."

I winced.

He grinned. "Suppose I just follow you around for a while? You're a chatty sort of fellow. I'll let you know when you've said enough to let me make up my mind."

"Oh, happy day! The pleasure of his company without having to pay for it. All right."

"Who said anything about not paying for it?"

"I did. No play, no pay."

"You got an attitude problem, Garrett. All right. What are you going to do now?"

"Go wrap myself around a couple of pounds of steak."

He turned up his nose. "All that red meat is why you people have such a peculiar odor. Where should I meet you?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Matter of some unfinished business," he said evenly.

I glanced at the door to the other room. "I see. I'll be back."

Morley had pecked around the edges till I'd about lost the restored good humor brought on by beer and a fully belly. "You have a basic character flaw, Garrett. I think it's a self-image problem. Ninety-nine people out of a hundred will say any damned fool thing that pops into their heads and not worry about how other folks will see it. With you every damned word is a contract with the gods."

I scowled up the street. There were lights inside my place.

"You can talk without feeling you've committed something, Garrett. Hell, you should do like me. Believe every word you say like it was godsmouth when you say it, then forget it in the morning. The appearance of sincerity counts for more than actual truthfulness. People only need to believe for a few minutes at a time. They know the name of the game. You take that lady I was with tonight. Am I in love with her? Is she in love with me? Not bloody likely. She wouldn't be seen in public with me. But I still had to say all the words."

I don't know how he got onto that. He rambles. I ignored it, mostly. "You on the payroll or not?"

He looked at my place. "Company?"

"Looks like."

"Could it be friendly?"

"My friends have better manners."

"I thought you'd admit you don't have any friends. Are you going in?"

"Yes. You behind me or not?"

"Temporarily, anyway. My cash position isn't what it should be. I've suffered several financial setbacks lately."

"D'Guni races again."

"You want to get rich quick, Garrett? Come down to the pond and see how I lay my bets. Then bet the other way. No matter what bug I pick, it zips out to the middle, then skitters in circles while the plodders head straight for the other bank. Either that or it gets eaten."

"The race is not always to the swift." Only elves would bet on the near-random results of water-spider races. "Ready?"

"Go ahead."

The door was unlocked. How thoughtful. There were four of them. Two sat on my bed. The other two occupied my only two chairs. I recognized three as cavalry veterans from Denny's crowd. The one called Vasco might be the V of Denny's notes. They were trying to look tough.

I guess they were tough, inside their heads. They had survived the Cantard. But they did not have the tough look that comes from growing up on the streets.

"Come on in, guys," I said. "Make yourselves at home. Fix yourselves a drink. My place is your place."

Vasco said, "See if he's armed, Quinn."

"He's armed," Morley said behind me. "Take my word for it."

One of my guests chuckled. "Look, Vee. A darko breed in man's clothing."

"Amateurs," Morley said.

"Amateurs," I agreed. "But the pros all start out as amateurs."

"Some have to learn their business the hard way."

What he meant was, anybody on the shady side of the law who knew what they were doing should know who he was.

Vasco made a gesture that restrained the character with the intemperate mouth. He said, "I figure you have some idea why we're here, Garrett. But there're a couple points I want to make sure you understand."