Daniel Polansky - Tomorrow, the Killing

‘There ain’t but so much milk to go around.’

As I’d mentioned, being cracked as an outhouse rodent didn’t stop Adisu from being right about most things. I’m not sure what exactly that says about the world. Nothing good, I don’t imagine.

‘All right,’ Adisu said, standing abruptly. The Muscle seemed caught off guard as well, because it took him a moment to do the same. ‘I said what I got to say. Twenty-five ochre by the day after tomorrow, or my gums start flapping with the wind. Whatever cakes you got baking, you sure as hell don’t need my crazy ass sticking a finger in the dough.’ He was back in good humor, smiling at me affectionately. ‘You be well. I’ll see you soon.’

The Muscle waited a second, then gave a sort of half-shrug and disappeared after him.

I finished off my cigarette and started on another, running over the last ten minutes. They didn’t look any better through the smoke. I had too much to worry about to add Adisu’s madness to the mix. And while the Bruised Fruit Mob were hardly considered reliable, there was enough truth in his story to get me killed by any number of people.

Of course, there were other ways to fix the situation than the one he’d presented.

The waitress came back to our table. On her shoulder was a tray. On the tray was enough food to feed a family of eight. ‘Where’d your friends go?’ she asked.

‘Weren’t never here,’ I said.

She dropped her burden onto the table, rattling the plates and sending coffee spilling. ‘Well, who the hell is gonna pay for all this?’

‘He is,’ I said, pulling an argent out of my pocket. ‘He just doesn’t know it yet.’

30

The man at the front desk of Black House was not inclined towards letting me wander the halls unaccompanied.

A day had passed since my meeting with Adisu, a day spent avoiding the sun and Adeline, holed up in my room burning through a half-ochre worth of dreamvine. In the city outside the seeds of my plot were beginning to sprout, soon to flower into chaos and violence. They’d require cultivation, but at that exact moment all they needed was a little bit of time. I went to bed early, and woke up the same, heading out to visit Guiscard before breakfast. I’d thought a lot about what I was going to say to him, but I’ll admit I hadn’t foreseen the possibility that said dialogue would never take place.

Back when I’d worked in Black House the desk was occupied by an agent. I suppose there had been some sort of a change in policy, because their new doorman was nothing but that, a functionary with gray eyes and a soul to match. I didn’t blame him not letting me in. Keeping out the riff-raff was chief amongst his duties, and I certainly looked the part. I did, however, blame him for being snide, narrow of mind, and less capable of independent thought than a marching ant. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not sounding like it. ‘But without an appointment there’s really nothing I can do.’

‘Just send someone up to tell him I’m here.’

‘There’s no one here but me – and if I go upstairs to give him a message, there would be no one left to watch the desk.’

‘I’ll stay here and watch it.’

‘I don’t . . .’ The introduction of an alternative confused him. ‘I don’t think that would work.’

‘Perhaps we could rig up some sort of machine which would pass the note along to him. Something with rigs and pulleys.’

‘I’m not very mechanically inclined,’ he admitted.

‘How about carrier pigeons? Do you have any of those?’

He shrugged helplessly. He’d been well trained for his position. Mostly, organizations do not reward solving problems – they reward not fucking up, and the easiest way not to fuck up is to do nothing. But true inertia is a difficult state to reach, and after a few moments of silence an idea seemed to come to him. It was a rare thing, no doubt. It took him a while to recognize it, and longer still to give it voice. ‘Maybe if you told me what business you have with Agent Guiscard?’

How to answer that one? That Agent Guiscard had forced me to act a double agent, setting up the downfall of a rebellious entity conceivably bent on the destruction of the Crown? Or that the above was false, that I was in fact engineering a conflict between Black House and the Association, and Agent Guiscard the unwitting instrument of my revenge? ‘I’m afraid he wouldn’t want me to divulge the specifics.’

I heard the door open behind me and I tensed up slightly. There were still people walking the halls who remembered when I’d done the same, and I imagined they’d be quick to greet my return with violence.

Turned out I didn’t need to worry. ‘Agent Guiscard,’ the doorman said.

‘Hello, Brunsford.’

Guiscard pulled up next to me. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, but before I could answer he shook his head. ‘Nevermind – best discuss it in my office.’

‘One moment,’ I said, turning back to Brunsford. ‘If you knew he was out, then why did we have to go through all of this?’

Brunsford shrugged, having difficulty seeing the connection. ‘You didn’t ask.’

In a sense, I envied him. Few people are so well suited to their duties. I thanked him, then followed Guiscard upstairs.

He took a seat, and I joined him. ‘How much do you like me?’ I asked.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Am I just some ten-copper trollop whom you pick up and use at your convenience? Or is what we have between us real?’

‘This is a rather tedious introduction to whatever you’re here for.’

‘Let me summate.’ I leaned back in my chair and propped my legs up onto his desk. ‘I need you to crush a bug for me.’

He narrowed his eyes, stiffened one arm and pushed my boots back to the ground. ‘What kind of bug?’

‘Islander, early twenties, savagely insane. Goes by Adisu the Damned.’

‘Never heard of him.’

‘When I had your job, Guiscard, I knew the name of every criminal who could command a blade from Grenmont to the docks.’

‘You don’t have my job anymore.’

‘And I still know the name of every criminal who can command a blade from Grenmont to the docks.’

‘This Adisu – what exactly has he done to you?’

‘At this exact moment, he hasn’t done anything. But if we wait around till tomorrow, he’ll make sure I’m not here to answer that question a second time.’

‘I’m sure you’ve done something to deserve it.’

‘We’ve all done something to deserve it.’

‘And what exactly would you like to have happen to your unfortunate adversary?’

‘The world would be a finer place without him crawling on its surface, but so long as he’s out of my way, I don’t really mind. The bay or the dungeon, your preference.’

‘I can’t just disappear a fellow without reason.’

‘In fact you can – that’s basically the point of being in Black House. You can pretty much do anything you want to anyone, and they can’t do anything back to you.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Say I could do it. Why would I?’

‘In exchange for the kindnesses I’m doing you.’

‘Awful presumptuous of you, thinking to cash in a chit you haven’t earned yet.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning for all your big talk about having Joachim Pretories’ ear, so far you’ve given me nothing more solid than broken wind.’

‘I don’t imagine I’ll be of any more help to you dead,’ I answered. ‘Try to think a few moves ahead, Guiscard. The Association and the Giroies will be at war soon enough. You’ll be happy to have me around when they do.’

‘So you’ve said – I’m still not sure I understand why Pretories would want to stir up violence against the Giroies.’