Gilded Latten Bones

61

It was a quiet night. The sky was clear. The moon would not be up for a while. There were a trillion stars. In some parts of the sky there was more silver dust than darkness. None of the watchers in the shadows made themselves obvious. The men who had accompanied Block had gone to find a tavern. We had the night to ourselves.

Neither of us said anything till a shooting star blazed across the firmament, headed west in a hurry. Then it exploded. For an instant TunFaire was bathed in pallid light.

"This may be the most important night in our lives, Tinnie."

She responded with an inarticulate sound that seemed weighted down with sorrow. She pushed against me like she was cold. She was shivering.

I told her, "We've known each other for a long time. I can't imagine my life without you in it. But I can't go on the way we've been. I can't be what you want. Those people in there are important in my life, too."

The last light of the dying star glistened off a tear. She said nothing.

My heart sank. Old Bones had failed. She would remain stubborn till the end.

Proceed gently, Garrett. All is not lost. Even though he liked Strafa Algarda better than this woman whom he knew so much better.

Tinnie said, "Garrett, I love you. You know that. I have forever. I could say something corny like you complete me. I can't imagine myself with any other man. Whatever I said, however I behaved, whatever else happened in our lives, that's been true since I was a kid and you used to come around to see Denny. Ever since then I've tried hard to understand the Garrett who operates outside the closed field of you and me. But I can't, anymore. I know I shouldn't be so selfish. I know I'm twisting away into a darkness that some people might consider insanity. But I'm obsessed. I can't share you anymore. I can't. The monster inside wants to push it to the point where there is no one but you and me. No work. No distractions. Just us. I know that's crazy. But I can't stop it."

Now she had me scared.

What she says is true but right now she is trying to manipulate you through exaggeration. Nevertheless, that exaggeration is being built on a truth from a level so deep it has never emerged before.

"Can you help?" Tinnie was a major part of my life. I had loved her, maybe too often from a distance, almost as long as she said she had loved me. But I was not obsessed. I had been in love before. The rational side of my mind told me I would survive-if the pain insisted on coming.

The adventure called Strafa Algarda waited on the other side. I knew that. Strafa offered a chance for an adult, cooperative relationship.

I looked at Tinnie and wondered how she had gotten to this point.

She said, "The Dead Man has been inside my head, trying to show me things. He says you're part of a network of friendships and obligations. He says there is a fine woman who wants to be important to you but you still look only toward me. ."

What game was Old Bones playing?

Tinnie surrendered to wracking sobs.

The problem here is that a part of her mind does remain fully rational. That fraction knows she is crazy. It knows that obsession drives her. But it has no control. It remains a prisoner inside the growing obsession.

"I can't believe it. How could it happen? Could Kolda come up with an herb? Can you do some kind of surgery?"

I might be able. But you will need to convince Miss Tate that she wants to have the corrective work done. And there is the further question of the strength of your own emotional commitment.

I ignored Strafa, thought a question about working Tinnie and this case in parallel.

That might be possible. Assuming she agreed.

"Curses."

I would have to search her mind memory by memory and hurt by hurt to find tipping points in need of adjustment or cauterization. Each such tipping point will have affected every other that followed. It is a three-dimensional problem. The surgery would be far more subtle than an abuse victim like Miss Algarda needs. She is content with the life she has lived. And there would be no guarantees.

Tinnie said, "You and him are talking about me, aren't you?"

"We are." I pulled her into my arms. As always, she felt exactly right, being there. Designed to fit. She cried. I cried. I told her, "We can work this out. If you let it work out. If you let Old Bones make some minor adjustments. . I'm going to let him work on me."

That was off the top of my head and next to a bald-faced lie. Any refinements my mind needed he would have made already, without mentioning it. Maybe.

Scary thought, that.

Nobody wants to be told that they need fixing. Even when they know it themselves. Tinnie's natural first reaction was rejection. I kept on holding her tight. I said nothing. Talk would not help. What could be talked about had been talked about.

Changes in us would lead to changes in the conversation.

I thought there was a chance. I thought we could find a way.

Uncle Oswald opened the door, checking up. He had a mug in hand. The rosy glow in his cheeks said he was hard at it, enjoying my hospitality. He didn't see any guts strewn about so he grunted and shut the door.

The clinch went on. Tinnie relaxed slowly, surrendering to need. We had to go on. She had to fight the obsession that would make it impossible to do so.

I was confused, for sure. I had this, familiar and mostly comfortable though always freighted with emotion and drama. I had Strafa in the background, exercising a surprisingly powerful pull-not the way it used to be with any female between seven and seventy. That draw was there, too, absolutely. But there was more to it. An intellectual intrigue and a certainty that Strafa Algarda would involve a lot less drama.

Thou foul beast, Temptation!

I felt the amusement of the invisible observer.

It was a classic tough situation.

Tinnie had the lead by a furlong, at the moment. She was as comfortable as an old shoe once she relaxed against me. But Strafa could pull even, or push ahead, with very little effort, if Tinnie wasn't there to rattle my reason.

The invisible observer suggested, It is time to come inside. Something is moving in the darkness. You do not want to be out there should it come this way.