Gilded Latten Bones

8

I wandered around the house, cataloging changes and remembering some whens. The changes consisted of paint, new wall finishes, and new furniture.

I lugged a big mug of beer. There was a supply.

I had thought there would be. Singe was a fan.

"You haven't been bringing guests in?"

"No one but my brother, some workmen, and the Dead Man's students. Humility only comes on business since I stopped his beer privileges."

Her brother, real name Pound Humility but known on the street as John Stretch, was chieftain of the biggest ratman gang in the city. He was of a different litter so they shared only the same mother, but their relationship was surprisingly tight.

Singe said, "He just could not help being a rat. He took advantage."

"Don't piss him off. He's a handy guy to know."

"Garrett."

"I'm sorry. I can't help fussing."

"And yet you resent it so much when people do it to you."

I shrugged. Being consistent is a sign of a narrow mind.

That was the moment we first stepped into the chill of the Dead Man's room.

One small candle burned in a sconce outside the door. It didn't cast much light when I took it in. It wasn't there for that. It was meant to fire lamps when His Nibs had people in who needed the comfort of the light.

I raised the candle high. The Dead Man was right where I'd left him. Where he had been since I bought the house, seated in a massive wooden chair, looking like a badly rendered idol featuring an anthropomorphic elephant god. I said, "Cold in here."

"Yes."

"Really cold in here."

She explained the mix of spells, leased from the same supplier as those chilling the cold well in the kitchen. "Kip Prose designed the suite. It does not cost that much. It will make sure he is with us for a lot longer."

"Kip Prose. Of course. He's into sorcery, now, too?"

"No. He could not make a rock fall down if he had to use magic. He can come up with mathematical models to make spells work more efficiently, though."

The last contractions had dropped out of her speech. She was talking slower. She had begun to show a little of the ratman lisping accent.

She was nervous.

"How much is the cold costing?"

"Less than you might think. It is an investment in our future. We can keep food fresh in here, too."

I do fuss about money. Someone has to make people think a little before they empty my pockets.

I was the despair of Dean and the Dead Man, and of Singe after she helped herself to a place in my life, because I am disinclined to work any harder than necessary to avoid ending up ranting on the steps of the Chancellery in hopes somebody will be amused enough to toss a coin into my tips box.

I heard harsh talk about poorhouses as those fine business minds missed the fact that the poorhouses were shutting down. Without a war there was no need for sweatshops to make things soldiers needed.

Life, I will confess, has been generous to me. Big bags of money have wandered in just when they would be most welcome. I bought a house. I have investments that generate income enough to keep the place up and to house its occupants in comfort-though that is mostly Singe's fault.

Singe is a big part of my luck.

I got no sense that the Dead Man was remotely close to awake.

Singe asked, "You're going to do what Belinda wants?" Her crisis had passed. Contractions were back. She was an amazement. Ratpeople voice boxes aren't made for colloquial human speech.

"It's Morley, Singe. I have to."

"And Tinnie? This could poison. ."

"I have to. If she can't understand, we've both been wasting our time."

"Wow."

Yeah. I was terrified. That might be the case. Tinnie turned into a different woman once she was sure she made herself the only woman in my life.

Things men associated with the dark side of a redheaded woman became exaggerated immediately.

I will stipulate that the plus side remained as marvelous as ever.

"All right."

Singe sounded like she was having trouble believing what she heard. "Since I know you will head straight for this Ice and Fire place, I'll handle Tinnie."

I started to protest, then grinned. People don't handle Tinnie. Tinnie handles people. "Wrangle away. And good luck."

"Are we likely to make money out of this, Garrett?"

"No. This time is for love."

"That is the way you think most times. Maybe we'll get lucky this time, too."