Glen Cook - Deadly Quicksilver Lies

He looked like a big old dock walloper.

With him dressed down and Chaz dressed up, nobody paid him much attention. Even I had trouble concentrating. "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm serving my own interests."

I recalled now. I'd thanked him for not making a show. "Oh."

"Believe it or not, there are people who might do me an injury if they caught me off my usual range."

"Really?" My gaze swerved back to Chaz. The woman had dressed to kill and was armed with her best assassin's smile.

"Hard to believe, right? Big old cuddle bear like me?" He turned to Morley, who hovered at the head of a platoon of ready servers. "I'm not real hungry tonight. I'll take half pound of roast beef rare, sides of mutton, and pork. No fruits or vegetables."

Morley went paler than a blanching vampire. He nodded sharply, once, some postmortem spasm. He fish-eyed me and my grin. His eyes were the lamps of hell. I decided not to rub it in.

I ordered one of the more palatable house specialties. Chaz followed my lead.

Morley stamped toward the kitchen, dragging Puddle, muttering orders. I wondered which neighboring establishment would subcontract Direheart's order.

I fought the chuckles as I brought the firelord up to date.

"You let him get away?"

"I didn't let. Let wasn't part of the equation. He got. You want, I'll take you to see him after supper."

Good Old Fred raised both eyebrows. But then he came after me about the centaur sign outside The Tops. His intensity confirmed my suspicions. He'd had definite reasons for coming home from the Cantard early.

In time, I led him back to the Rainmaker. He frowned, told me, "I'm generous to a fault, Garrett. Anyone will tell you that. Especially where my little girl is concerned. But I won't let you milk this forever."

"That's good to hear. 'Cause I'm sick of the whole damned thing. I've got one bruise too many, for nothing."

Morley returned to hover in time to overhear. He lifted an eyebrow.

I continued, "I'm closing this down soon as we eat."

Morley stifled his surprise, but Chaz and her pop both blurted, "What?"

"We eat, I take you to Cleaver, my part's done. You all settle up. I'm home having a beer before I hit the sack."

Direheart started to get up. He was ready.

Morley started slide-stepping toward the kitchen. Maybe he was headed for cover.

Chaz smiled like her brain had gone north. I'd begun to wonder about her. When her dad was around, she worked at cute and dumb.

"Sit down," I said. "Morley went to a lot of trouble with your order. And Cleaver will be there when we get there." Dinner hadn't yet arrived.

Morley could've been going to check its progress, but I wouldn't have bet two dead flies on that.

Nice of him to be so predictable.

After the Tops, I didn't have a trick left. What I hadn't used I'd lost or had taken. Might have been smart to see Handsome before dinner.

Too late now.

Dinner did come. I drooled over Direheart's while I choked down mine, a kind of souffle thingee I'd had before and hadn't found myself vomiting... But this time somebody clever had chopped green peppers into the mix.

Morley looked so innocent I would've strangled him if I hadn't needed him.

I told Direheart, "There's no way you're going to get your book back. It's long gone."

The man was resilient. He displayed one scant instant of surprise. "Oh?"

"Near as I can tell, Maggie Jenn's daughter swiped it from Cleaver about a year ago, brought it to TunFaire, showed it to the wrong people, had it snatched by the human rights nuts." Which was true, to that point.

The Firelord smiled, in control. "I rather doubted I'd see it again, especially considering the bloodletting following it."

"Just wanted you to understand."

"Could you recover it if I hired you to?"

"I don't want the job. There're too many people ready to kill people over it."

Direheart didn't like what he heard. It wasn't Good Old Fred who laid that evil eye on me while he wondered what I was doing.

I saw him decide that I was too damned lazy to glom the book for myself.

The Firelord ate like a little dog trying to get his fill before the big dogs come. I ate at a leisurely pace, mostly staring at Chaz, who matched me bite for bite and stared right back, all but hollering her wicked intentions.

My stride faltered a few steps into the street. There should have been more people out. Some hint must have escaped the Joy House.

If the Firelord noticed he didn't let on. Maybe he didn't. He'd been in the Cantard forever. He'd be street naive.

Chaz was uncomfortable, though. She knew an off odor when she smelled one. The dumb blonde disappeared fast.

Considering my recent experiences, I didn't think it unreasonable to be alert to the point of frayed nerves. So, naturally, nothing happened. Except...

Wings beat the cool evening air. I braced for the advent of some batwinged demon belched from the hell of one of TunFaire's thousand and one cults.

The mythological is manageable.

Reality can be uglier.

The Goddamn Parrot plopped onto my shoulder.

I batted at it. "That goddamn Dean! Comes home in the middle of the night, lets that monster get loose." How did the damned thing find me?

The bird remained silent as it fluttered to Chaz's shoulder. It was unnatural.

"What the matter with you, bird? Chaz, he'll probably mess on you." This adventure wasn't going the way I'd hoped.

I didn't try to confuse anybody. I took the direct route. We weren't halfway there when Chaz chirped, "The Bledsoe?"

For Morley's sake—he had to be out in the darkness somewhere—I replied, "Where else? He's used up his other hideouts. And they don't know the real him there."

Maybe. I'd begun to doubt my intuition already.

And I'd begun to doubt my good sense. Head into danger with a sorcerer? I had no cause to trust Direheart. His sort were notoriously treacherous. And my only insurance was a dark-elf with a broken wing who might not remain devoted to my well-being once he sighted the Rainmaker.

People say I think too much. No doubt... Why on earth did I think Cleaver would hang around TunFaire after his latest misadventure? Why, of all places, would he hide out at the Bledsoe?

I was one rattled guy when I pushed into the Bledsoe receiving lobby. But I got my confidence back fast.

Two steps in I spotted the female half of the elderly couple I'd held captive at that ugly warehouse. She spotted me, too, and headed out at her fastest shuffle. She made her break for the stairwell I'd used to make my getaway a couple of ages ago.

I won the race. "Hello again."

Direheart joined me. "Somebody you know?"

I offered a brief synopsis.

The Firelord surveyed the area. Our arrival hadn't gone unremarked. Staff were gathering. I saw familiar, unfriendly faces. "These guys can't take a joke, Fred." He'd heard a bare bones version of my incarceration. Those guys made the mistake of thinking it was payback time.

The Firelord did one of those things that make regular folks uncomfortable when his sort are around. It involved muttering and finger-wiggling and a sudden darkness as black as a lawyer's heart. An instant after that there were pillars of fire everywhere. Each contained a staffer who objected loudly. One unfortunate goose-stepped toward us. Direheart fixed it so we needn't hear his shrieks, but the guy kept on trying. He became a human torch to light our climb.

Chaz wasn't shocked. Her daddy hadn't disillusioned her.

The old woman broke away and tried to outclimb us. She failed. We passed the ward where I'd done my damage. The fixing up had hardly begun. I wasted a tear for Ivy and Slither.

The old woman suddenly wheeled like she had some mad idea about holding us off. She was a horrible vision, illuminated by the burning man. Her terror was absolute, but so was her determination. Death was in her eyes. She was a sow bear between hunter and cub...