Glen Cook - Angry Lead Skies

I resisted the temptation to let the Goddamn Parrot get away.

Dean assumed his post, the seat to the left of what would be mine at the table head. He laid out paper, pens, and ink, and a couple of Kip's writing sticks. He'd try to record what got said accurately enough that there could be no arguments later. I was confident that others would do the same. I was just as confident that there'd be arguments over who said what and when later on. There's always somebody who insists the records are wrong.

Evas and Singe lurked behind the old man, both of them trying to read his notes as he made them. I wondered how much success they actually had.

It was scary how fast Singe was picking up the art. Writing was giving her trouble, though. Her body wasn't built to provide the necessary fine motor skills. I suspected she'd never manage anything but tedious block printing.

Even that would make her unique.

I separated Evas from Singe. "The man I was talking to was the one I told you about."

She showed an interest immediately. She'd reached the point where she was having trouble sustaining her public frost. She was obsessed. Which had been cute for a while but which had become disturbing once I found myself ambushed whenever I was alone.

I thanked the stars or fates that Fasfir had needed to try her wings just the one time. It had been sweet enough work keeping up with Evas.

I reminded her, "He'd be a better teacher than I am. Much better. Elves are known for their endurance." If you could believe a quarter of what this particular half-elf said about himself. "He's not bad looking, either. By our standards."

Near as I could read a silver elf's face, Evas seemed thoughtful.

I settled beside Dean. "All set?" He was studying one of Kip's writing sticks, looking dubious.

"I'm not sure I can do this anymore."

"If you can't get it word for word make sure you get the high points. Ah. Playmate's here."

As I moved that way, Singe sidled up. "What are you trying to do with Evas?"

"Nothing."

"Garrett."

"Just trying to help my best pal get a chance to experience an amazing phenomenon."

"I think you are up to something."

"Really? Look, I need to talk to Playmate." Playmate had Kip in tow but not Kip's mother or sister. Or Rhafi. Mustn't ever forget poor, invisible Rhafi.

Playmate looked exhausted. "It's getting to me, Garrett. Having the Guard watching the place all the time. Having them come around asking questions at all hours."

Even Kip seemed subdued. He hardly fidgeted. He made no effort to wander away from Playmate. He didn't insult anyone.

I asked, "Where are the rest of them?"

"I don't know if they're coming. Kayne said she was but I expected her to get here before we did."

"She has to come. We'll be on real thin legal ice if we put together a company where one of the partners isn't even old enough to draft. We need his mother here."

"I understand that. But you need to realize that Kayne's custodial status won't stand up if somebody big really challenges it. She's a woman. So she's pretty much handicapped when it comes to making contracts herself. If this turns into something involving really big money, you know the jackals are going to start gathering."

Playmate was right. Women who make a name and place for themselves have to do so against the ancient tide of the law. Kayne had the legal advantage of being a widow, had no living father, and neither son had reached his majority. Still, as Playmate said, add money to the mix and somebody would take legal action to become Kayne's legal guardian.

Playmate mused, "I'm worried that the father will turn up and stake a claim."

"I thought he was dead."

"No. He disappeared. He's presumed dead. Even if he is dead, somebody could claim to be him. It would be his word against Kayne's. A woman. Of questionable morals. The sorting out would give somebody plenty of time to do some mischief."

"People can't do much mischief if their legs are broken."

"It wouldn't be that simple."

"I hate people sometimes, Play. In times like these I have trouble convincing myself that Relway doesn't have the right idea about how to handle humanity's scum."

"Might not be your best simile, Garrett. The scum is what rises to the top. Well, somebody is here."

Somebody proved to be Max Weider and his beautiful daughter Alyx. Alyx was coifed and dressed to kill. Alyx loved every second of the attention she attracted. Manvil Gilbey and our first uninvited guest, Congo Greeve, straggled in behind, the bad and the ugly. Congo looked like he had broken out the special, formal occasions cranial wax. His eight-inch part glistened.

Wicked, wicked Alyx headed straight for me, blue eyes sparkling like a bucket of diamonds. She showed me a wicked, wicked smile and leaned forward to offer me a world-class glimpse of a wicked, wicked decolletage.

"Bad girl," I told her. "Daddy's going to spank."

"Promise?"

"You're hopeless."

"I've got plenty of hope. I know you can't resist forever. I see you took the trouble to dress up." She grabbed my right arm, did a little wriggle-and-spin move before I realized what she was doing.

Her daddy was not amused.

"I... What're you doing?"

"Tinnie was right behind us."

The devil herself stepped into the room. Red hair, green eyes, freckles, a shape to make men sit up nights cursing the sun and the moon and the stars because there was only one of her to go around. She wore green velvet. She eyed Alyx, checked the goofy look on my clock, shook her head and allowed Puddle to guide her to the side of the table where the Tates would be stationed. Like most everyone else I know who passes as more than a remote acquaintance, Puddle treats Tinnie like an empress.

Alyx said, "Damn. That didn't get a rise out of her. How 'bout you?"

"Well, you did get your dad all steamed up. You'll hear from him later." Max and I might be friends but there was no way he was going to let me get involved with his baby. Not that he's a snob. He just don't think my prospects are any better than those of highwaymen or pirates, professions notorious for their high rate of turnover.

Alyx went over and dropped inelegantly into a chair beside Tinnie. They fell into conversation instantly, probably beating up on me. They were close friends, despite Alyx's relentless campaign to slide her shoes under the end of my bed.

Morley reappeared. He had changed clothing. He wore a lady-killing costume now. I kept a straight face. He cast covert glances into the dark corner where Singe and Evas lurked, trying to avoid notice. Evas was busy playing peekaboo with the Goddamn Parrot but didn't miss Morley's return.

Kip had discovered Evas, too. He was scared to death. I said, "Play, tell Kip it's all right. She's on our side."

Well, I was hoping she was. Things might change suddenly if she found out she had a ride home.

"Are you ready to begin serving?" Morley asked. "The kitchen is ready for you."

"Not yet. I'm waiting for the boy's family to show."

He stared at Evas and the jungle chicken, which Evas had just uncovered. "There's something about that creature... "

Something she was projecting herself. I'd felt it back at the house more than once. "Yes, there is. Would you like me to introduce you?"

"I'm talking about Mr. Big, Garrett," he lied.

"That's one of the better straight lines you've ever handed me but I'm going to let you off. You were distracted. Let me mingle with my guests. You want something to do, a wine course might be appropriate right now." A suggestion that Dean had offered on the way over, as a way of dealing with time that had to be filled.

There was an extra Tate as well as the Weider lawyer. His name was Lister. He was a cousin in his thirties. Outsiders occasionally confused him with Tinnie's deceased pop, Lester. Lister passed as the family legal expert. He was a square-jawed, dark-haired, immaculately clothed and groomed, painfully handsome character who had a hint of the weasel gleaming from the corners of his eyes. For some reason I think of him as the Lawyer of Times to Come.