Gilded Latten Bones

26

I would like to say that the depth of Belinda Contague's commitment to Morley was reflected in her willingness to walk into a place where her thoughts could not be kept secret, but. .

Her willingness is tempered by a cautious application of technology.

"What?"

Once upon a time a band of junior sorcerers, amongst other sins, created a mesh able to keep me from seeing their thoughts.

I remembered. I considered Belinda more closely. "She isn't wearing a wig."

I was in the hallway, adding to the congestion. People were everywhere, getting in each other's way. Morley was supposed to go into what had been my office, back in antiquity. Singe had cleared it out, then had installed a bed, chairs, and a few other bare-bones amenities. The guys with the litter couldn't figure out how to make the turn through the doorway.

This room was smaller than the last but here I would not be confined to one space. I could roam from room to room and floor to floor, and even go down into the cellar. Wide open spaces, compared. And Singe would be more interesting company than the surly folk at Fire and Ice.

I backed into Singe's office while the litter boys twisted and shoved and argued. Joel and Belinda barked advice that only added to the tumult. I wondered what the neighbors thought. You don't often see the morticians make a delivery instead of a pickup.

The mesh is next to her scalp, embedded in her natural hair.

"That's a lot of work gone to waste." If any of these brunos knew something Belinda wanted kept secret.

Too much was happening at once. I couldn't keep an eye on it all. The Dead Man had to make sure nobody collected souvenirs or hid in a closet.

It all worsened when Belinda went from the advisory to the imperial edict stage.

"Hey, woman! Yes. You. The pretty lady who forgets where she's at. Calm down. And get those extra bodies out of here." Her thugs had gotten Morley into his new quarters and established in his new bed. At which point I realized that we didn't have Crush and DeeDee to feed and change him anymore.

Belinda gave me the hard-eye. Then she did remember where she was, what she was doing, and who was there behind her, out of sight but maybe not quite out of mind. "Yes. All right. Joel, get the hat and coat from Mr. Garrett. The rest of you, go to Durelea Hall. Wait there. Joel, pay Roger and thank him for the use of the hearse. Worden, tell my coachman to wait at Durelea Hall, too."

I said, "I hate to give up the coat. I like the look." But I handed it over.

Joel said, "See Cap'n Roger. There's always openings in the mortician trade."

"I left some tools in the hearse. I'll need them. Would you be so generous as to run them up to the door?"

Belinda inclined her head slightly. Joel took that as an order. Off he went. The Dead Man touched me lightly, confirming my suspicions. I asked Belinda, "You spend much time around Joel?"

"Not really. Why?"

"He's got the bug bad. And he smells like the kind of guy who could get weird."

Belinda stared like I was a raving lunatic. Like I had accosted her on the street, insisting that she hear my theory about the royal conspiracy to conceal the truth about the mole people who lived in caverns deep under the earth. "You saw something that I missed?"

"I could be wrong. But the way the man watches you, when you don't know he's watching. . I'd say it's close to obsession."

"Good to know. I think."

Truly a human shark.

"You can still get a solid read?"

Not if you ruin it by talking about it.

Always a problem, me verbalizing my half of our conversations. "I'm out of practice."

An understatement.

After his appearance out front Dean had fled to the kitchen. He remained in hiding whilst the old homestead swarmed with villains, not out of timidity but to avoid being trampled. He emerged now. "Is the rush over?"

His great dread had been being told to feed the horde. He was irked enough because Belinda and I were still on scene and special needs Morley was lurking in my old office. "I'll need to do some serious shopping if there are going to be extra mouths to feed."

Singe told him, "Make a list. I'll have John Stretch deal with it. None of us should go out. It might not be safe."

Dean shrugged. He did not ask my opinion. He was used to Singe taking charge.

I caught on. Danger wasn't relevant. Singe was giving an old man an excuse to let someone else do his running.

Dean's years were catching up.

I said, "We need to decide how to handle Morley. Belinda, you'll be busy back in the world. Singe and I can, maybe, muddle through an occasional feeding, sponge bath, or linen change, but we aren't qualified to do it regular. We'll need somebody trustworthy." Because he or she would not be live-in. There was nowhere to put anybody.

Singe said, "Taken care of, Garrett. Some of John Stretch's women will handle it."

Singe had everything covered already. There was no need to fuss.

Belinda said, "I'm not needed here anymore."

"Don't go," I said. "We haven't talked about what you found out the last few days."

"Nothing, basically."

I waited for an opinion from the Dead Man. None came. "Nothing at all? That's hard to believe."

"What you believe is up to you. I'm going, now. I'll check in occasionally. If the lazy dick does wake up, send a message." She headed for the door, striding manfully.

The Dead Man touched me lightly-just a gentle suggestion that I keep my mouth shut till she was out of the house.