Glen Cook - Sweet Silver Blues

Triplets with different mothers. Right. I didn't ask. Making sense out of the things human folks tell me is brain strain enough.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Morley Dotes sent us, actually."

"What the hell for? Actually?" One of the big grolls growled at me. I used my fingers to sculpt a friendly smile.

"To help in the Cantard."

The villain himself, Morley Dotes, had sneaked on stage. "So you decided you want the job, eh?"

"At the moment there are certain advantages, where my creditors are concerned, to my being both employed and being out of town," Morley replied.

"And you thought you'd gather all your friends under the umbrella of that advantage? Like maybe my principal wouldn't think of putting a bottom in my expense pot?"

"If you would use half that vaunted detective brain of yours, you would bless my vision."

"It's too early in the morning for me to remember my name. Enlighten me, O Illustrious One."

"Consider mules."

"Mules? What the hell do mules have to do with it?"

"We're going into the Cantard. No one will risk loaning or renting us mounts or pack animals. We'll have to buy. On the other hand, wages for Doris and Marsha will run about what it would cost for a brace of good mules. And they can carry twice the load twice as long. And they're a hell of a lot more use in a fight."

That made sense. Good sense. But... "What about friend Dojango?"

Morley sighed. "Yes. Dojango Roze. Well, Garrett, they won't break up the set."

I do believe I scowled. "You sticking me with deadwood?"

"Dojango can lift a blade. He can sniff out water and find firewood. He can understand Doris and Marsha. If you keep an eye on him, he can cook an edible meal without burning anything too badly."

"I'm trying not to slobber in anticipation." I scanned the triplets who had different mothers. They grinned groll good fellowship. They figured Morley had sold me.

Dotes said, "Keep Dojango away from the juice and he'll do all right."

Everyone knows breeds cannot handle their booze. Dojango's grin became apologetic.

"How much is this road show going to burn me?"

Morley tossed out an outrageous figure. I slammed the door and went back to bed. He had one of the big triplets lift him so he could yell numbers through the broken window. I faked a mean snore till some interesting integers began rattling around behind me. In fact, Morley was so pliable I began wondering how bad his creditor situation was. I did not need more complications than I already had.

"It's your diet that makes you so stubborn, you know that, don't you, Garrett? All that red meat filled with the juices stirred by the terror of the murdered beast, and you never exercising so you sweat them out of your own body."

"I figured it was something like that, Morley. That, too much beer, and not enough green, leafy veggies."

"Cattails, Garrett. The white hearts down near the roots of the young plant, diced into a tossed salad. Not only tasty, but informed with an almost mystical capacity for lightening the burden of guilt lying upon the carnivore's soul."

"Horsepucky." When I was in the Marines we raided an island where the Venageti promptly cut us off from our ships and drove us into a swamp. Cattails were a mainstay of our diet till the fortunes of war shifted. I don't recall them doing anything remarkable for the temperaments of our sergeants and corporals, who seemed carnivorous enough to eat their own young. Rather the opposite, in a geometric progression.

I know we all took it out on the Venageti when the time came.

Maybe I did not start eating cattails young enough. "Morley, I did a job for a professor at the university one time. He was always spouting who-cares facts. Like one time when he said there are two hundred forty-eight different kinds of fruits, vegetables, greens, and tubers that people eat. Hogs will only eat two hundred forty-six of those. They won't touch green peppers and they won't touch cattail hearts. Which goes to show you that hogs have more sense than people."

"No point trying to salvage you, is there? You're determined to suicide the slow way. Are the boys hired?"

"They're hired." I hoped I would not be sorry.

"How soon can we leave?"

"You in a hurry, Morley? You need to get out of town fast? That why you're being so agreeable about going into the Cantard?"

Dotes shrugged.

A shrug was answer enough.

Considering Morley's talents and reputation, it would take somebody heavy to have enough clout to scare him. In my mind somebodies that heavy narrowed down to a crowd of one. The big guy himself. The kingpin. "Since when is Kolchak into bug racing, Morley?"

He popped down out of the window. His voice lingered behind him. "You're too damned smart for your own good, Garrett. It's going to catch up with you someday. I'll be in touch. Come on, you lummoxes. Dojango! Put that back. Doris!" He sounded like a muleteer trying to get a wagon started.

I went back to bed thinking I'd better use some of Tate's money to get a new window put in. Maybe a flashy piece with my name leaded in colors.

This old universe hasn't got one notion of the meaning of the word mercy where I'm concerned. I just got to snoozing when the door began shivering like a drumhead again.

"Going to have to do something about this," I muttered as I hit the floor. "Like maybe move and not tell anybody."

I opened up and found uncle Lester and the boys outside. "You guys decide to forget the whole thing, I hope?" I noticed that two of the kids had gotten into something rough. They showed plenty of bruises and bandages and one had an arm in a sling. "What happened?"

"Unfriendly visitors. Willard wants to talk to you about it."

"All right. I'm on my way." I took just long enough to make myself presentable, gulp some water, and pick up the lead-weighted head-thumper.

Willard Tate was in a state. He waited, wringing his hands. All my life I have heard that expression. Except for a maiden aunt whose every breath was an act of high drama, I'd never seen it before.

"What happened?" Uncle Lester was a clam. Maybe he was afraid if I knew too much I'd turn around.

Tate pumped my hand with both of his. "Thank you for coming. Thank you. I didn't know what else to do."

"What happened?" I asked again as he clung to my hand with one of his and dragged me like a stubborn child. Uncle Lester and the boys tagged along. I spotted a pale-faced Rose watching as we crossed the garden, headed for Denny's apartment.

Tate did not tell me. He showed me.

The place was a wreck. The apprentices were still cleaning up. Several of them wore bandages and bruises. Some wise soul had barred entry from the street by nailing boards across the doorframe.

Tate pointed.

The body lay in the middle of the room, belly down, one hand stretched toward the door.

"What happened?" I asked again.

Third time was a charm.

"It happened around midnight. I had the boys in watching, just in case, because you made me nervous the way you talked. Five men broke through the street door. The boys were smart. Odie came and woke everybody up. The others hid and let the burglars go downstairs. So we ambushed them when they tried to leave.

"We just wanted to capture them. But they panicked and started a fight, and they weren't shy about trying to hurt us. And now we're stuck with that. "

I knelt to look at the dead man's face. He had started to puff up already. But I could still see the cuts and scrapes he had picked up flying through the window at my place.

"Did they get away with anything?"

"I did a count," Uncle Lester said. "The gold and silver is all there."

"They weren't after gold or silver."

"Huh?" All the Tates are brilliant. But they hide their light under a bushel. Maybe it's a business reflex.