Gilded Latten Bones (35 page)

“Gee, Garrett, what did I just say?”

“Really. This is ridiculous. Prince Rupert wouldn’t go all hard-ass because I didn’t come running like Good Dog Nagel.”

“You think? You want to consider the time factor? Somebody else sent them. Say, like, I don’t know. The guy they actually work for?”

“The King? Well, he is the one they’re supposed to protect. But why me? He can’t have any reason to come after me. He’s never heard of me.”

Singe asked, “Are you sure? He wants the man-building mess left alone and his cronies on the Hill agree. Where do all the noseys get together? Here.”

“This makes sense if Rupert is under pressure.”

“Dinklebrain. Forget Rupert!”

“All right.” Prince Rupert didn’t have that small a mind, anyway. Narrow, certainly, but not petty.

And this was beyond his budget.

“First thing we need to do is find out what’s what.”

She demanded, “Do you have shit in your ears?”

“What?”

“I just told you. It’s a blockade, blockhead. Nobody will come in. Nobody will go out. People could get arrested for the crime of knowing you. Eventually, we will get hungry.”

“You’d better wake the Dead Man up.”

“I’m considering options already.”

I said, “Oh, crap!”

Belinda’s big black coach had turned onto Macunado off Wizard’s Reach. It was accompanied by the usual footmen and outriders.

Singe said, “This could prove illuminating.”

“Or disastrous if she’s been drinking.”

Belinda had not been drinking. She remained respectful and courteous in her exchange with the officer, who did not recognize her. I could see she was in a seething rage. “We’re good for now, but let’s hope she doesn’t drink anything stronger than small beer before she calms down. The Crown’s armed gang is bigger than hers.”

Singe grunted. She said nothing till Belinda’s coach was out of sight. “Miss Contague is astute but dangerous. She will make this personal between herself and the Palace Guard. And they are not a gang bigger than hers.”

I said “Crap!” again. The Palace Guards would not number fifty men if they had every slot filled. Twelve would be assigned to the Crown Prince, the rest to the King. Meaning most of the King’s share were outside now.

Belinda might think she could handle them if she got some firewater in her.

I asked Singe, “Do some of those guys look like they might not be real soldiers?” Some uniforms did not fit right. Some faces were not as cleanly shaven as they ought to be.

“You are correct. Nice catch. If the Windwalker were here, I suspect she might recognize men from the private patrol on the Hill.”

If that was true Belinda could get herself into even deeper poo.

Those people might declare war if she yanked their beards. But that prospect wouldn’t give her a moment’s pause even sober. She lived her life on a bull’s-eye.

“This could get ugly.”

“Yes. I am going down to see Dean. We will take inventory. Then we can plan for the siege.”

“I wish I had a crossbow. I could pick those guys off.”

“Are you serious?”

Not really.

“Because it would be just as easy for them to sneak around back and set the house on fire.”

“I
was
joking, Singe.”

“Be a little less deadpan, then.” She stomped out.

Bright as she was, she had trouble grasping the full range of human humor.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t get me.

I moved my little nightstand over so I could settle my butt while I watched the King’s men work.

89

Those guys weren’t even real soldiers, let alone Marines, but, despite themselves, they even kept a miserable, drunken, fighting-mad Winger from getting to my front door, without getting physical.

Those guys might be candy-asses in a fight but as public-relations operators, they were smooth.

That left me feeling optimistic.

Somebody would come along and ruin their day.

Strafa appeared outside. This time, for whatever reason, she sat astride a great, honking broomstick. She wore dark clothes that did not flatter, but she had disdained the traditional pointy hat.

I opened the window wide.

Down she swooped, face aflame with adolescent mischief. She spun, plunged, tugged the sergeant major’s mustache, then sideslipped and swiped the commander’s fancy hat.

Hands grabbed at her. She shot straight up. The hat drifted down, carried by the breeze. Strafa followed but leveled off at the height of my window. She stretched herself out on her broomstick, shot forward into my room.

There was almost no clearance but she came through unscathed. “That was fun.” She laughed. It was the first time I heard her let it all go. She was totally happy. She was totally at peace. She rolled off her broom, bounced into my arms. “Did you see the looks on their faces?”

For one instant I saw the face of a redheaded woman. I felt pain, guilt, then a sourceless admonition to do the right thing.

Strafa’s simple joy over having thumbed her nose at gloomy functionaries changed things more in a moment than had the physical connection earlier.

I was lost. I was hooked.

I was miserably guilty. I did love Tinnie Tate, but I had been ambushed by something hugely more potent. Something that Strafa had sensed and been frightened by way back when our paths first crossed. She had teased me then, but that was all she had risked.

Strafa shared some psychology with DeeDee: neither looked or acted her age. Both were more simple and innocent than seemed plausible. Each had a daughter more touched by and in tune with the real world.

Crush, though, was better equipped to survive there than Kevans was. Kevans lacked sufficient cynicism.

“Damn, darling, that was as good as you making me groan! Why are those buttheads out there, anyway?”

“Your guess would be better than mine. You know the people who tell them what to do.”

“Kiss me.”

I did so, to the best of my ability, with considerable enthusiasm.

“Wow! That was all right. I forgot the world completely.” She went to the window. “You have to wonder who was thinking what, sending them out to harass subjects in the city. You bad man. Keep your hands to yourself. I’m trying to think.”

She had more to say, mostly playful, but I didn’t pay attention. One final shard of rationality was trying to figure out what had happened to us and why it had happened so fast.

Then I recalled any number of friends, across the ages, telling me I think too much.

This time Strafa was the responsible one. “Down, boy! I’m as eager as you are, but we have bigger issues to deal with.”

Strafa saw things through different eyes. Olive, at the moment.

She leaned out the window. She waved. She blew kisses. I caught the back draft as she stoked up the girl power. Any man down there who wasn’t moon-eyed and holding his hat in front of his fly was in serious violation of the most draconian prohibition of most of the thousand and one religions plaguing... er, gracing our great city.

I looked over her shoulder. It was amazing what she could do to men.

“You are a wicked woman.”

“I could be. But I’m too lazy.” She retreated just far enough to become invisible to the soldiers.

“You could be queen of the world by now.”

She said, “We’re going to do some things now, beloved.”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to go see those men. I’m going to cloud their minds. You get yourself and your friend ready to move somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“Your province. Mine is to fix it so those men besiege an empty castle.”

“You lost me. But I’m so infatuated, I trust you completely.”

She looked startled. “Pular Singe told me I should wear old, high-top boots if I really want to spend my life close to you. Maybe she wasn’t just jealous and teasing.”

“Strafa, whatever it was, I take it back. I don’t want to be the guy to you that I seem to be to everybody else. I just want to be your guy, no games. No ifs, ands, or bullshit.”

90

Strafa rode her broomstick out the window.

I hustled downstairs. A grim Singe told me, “We won’t last long if they try to starve us out.”

“We won’t be here. Strafa will fly us out, me first, then Morley, then you, and Dean.”

The more I reflected, though, the less likely it seemed that those men could sustain a long siege. What they were doing was illegal.

Legality aside, those clowns might leave once they saw us fly away.

Which made me wonder how serious they were. If they broke out the longbows and started sniping...

That would make me unhappy.

Singe said, “I know your mind doesn’t work that way, but why not just flit over to the Al-Khar and let them know what is going on?”

“Clearing them off could get ugly.”

“I’m just a simpleminded ratgirl. I cannot grasp the political ramifications. But I cannot believe that anyone would start a civil war just to keep embarrassing sorcery hidden.”

I had begun to wonder how committed Block and Relway were to the rule of law. Would they go to war on its behalf? Against the Crown?

I hoped they never found themselves forced to decide.

“I’ll be upstairs. Have Morley get up there as soon as he can.”

Morley clumped into my bedroom. He looked grim. “Garrett, I’m not quite ready to go on the warpath. Just getting up here kicked my butt.” He joined me at the window. “What’s up?”

“She’s putting the girl magic on those guys.”

“The what?”

“I call it girl magic. Remember when she came into the World the first time, back in the day? She’s doing that, only at full power.”

Thank the gods she turned it off before she came back. She told me, “I’m ready. But where should we go?”

“Let’s catch Belinda. She doesn’t have a huge head start.” I leaned out the window, lifted a leg to start working my way through. There was no way Strafa and I would fit at the same time. That big-ass broomstick took up too much territory.

The roof of the stoop was four feet down. I hoped it was in good repair. The pitch was steep enough that loose slates might go slip-sliding away, taking my favorite former Marine along.

I completed my part without disaster, though that might yet come. The Palace Guards had their brains scrambled but they noticed me anyway. Some still had a vague notion that they might ought to commence to begin to fix to get ready to keep people from getting away.

They knew I was a runner when Strafa darted out and had me drag my dead ass onto the broomstick behind her.

She began to climb, not nearly as fast as I liked. Several of those guys were immune to girl magic. Sling bullets burred around us.

The sergeant major roared like a bear who’d broken a tooth while gnoshing on somebody’s skull. I made out no distinct words but in all the history of the universe sergeants major never have been required to be coherent to be understood. This one did not want to have to answer questions about why a Windwalker, from the rarified air on the Hill, had been struck out of the sky by men in full uniform, fully armed, operating illegally miles from the venue they were supposed to protect. Only in the King’s own presence were they allowed to take their show on the road.

That gave me a killer idea. I’d have to try it out on Jon Salvation.

Disguised thugs from the Hill helped the sergeant major make his point. Masquerading, they would not enjoy the legal umbrella protecting the real Guards. Guardsmen had to take orders. Their superiors had to worry about legalities.

Strafa said, “Hang on tight.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, sweetness. Go high.” I had flown before, during other adventures. I never liked it. “Head north along Wizard’s Reach.”

Belinda could follow that only so far, though. The street dropped down, crossed Deer Creek, climbed again but dead-ended at Handycot Way, which marked the southern boundary of Woodland Park, from which every scrap of wood had been stolen.

Strafa said, “It would be a huge help if... That looks like her over there, almost to Grand.”

Who else would be out with so large a convoy?

Strafa’s eyes were better than mine in these circumstances. She had been flying since she was little. I bet they worked her half to death doing recon in the Cantard.

Say that for her class. They
all
did their time in the war zone, boys, girls, and everything in between. Most did multiple tours. Strafa’s father had.

We tilted downward and streaked toward the coach. I shut my eyes. The roar of air passing made it hard to talk.

Strafa ended up floating alongside the coach. That caused enough excitement for Belinda to look see what was happening. I told Strafa, “Keep an eye on the guy beside the driver.” Joel looked like he was tempted to do something that I would regret.

91

“You won’t like this but I don’t care,” Belinda told me. “Go back to Fire and Ice. Mike will cover you. You.” She spoke to Strafa. I hoped she remembered who Strafa was. “Once Garrett shows you where to take him I would be most appreciative if you would move the others to the same place, Morley first.”

I said, “Dean won’t leave and Singe will want to stay to wrangle the Dead Man.”

Belinda shrugged. “You can’t force people. You and Morley are the souls that matter to me. Hole up there and wait. I may be a while.” She told Strafa. “I’ll be ever so grateful if you’ll let me know when my boys are safe.”

“Certainly.”

Strafa felt no further need to converse, nor did Belinda. I did but everyone ignored me. Nobody disagrees that I over-think and overquestion — then, after the fuss, go hey-diddle-diddle straight up the middle.

Strafa did say, “Let’s go, darling.” Belinda’s crowd surged into a big U-turn. My old pal Joel shot me one last poisonous look.

Strafa went up only a little above the rooftops this time. Curious bats swooshed around us. A huge, elderly owl flapped alongside for a while, hoping we would startle up something tasty.

We followed Grand all the way. We were spotted several times. There would be talk tomorrow but no popular excitement. Dozens of sorcerers, great and small, infest TunFaire.