Gilded Latten Bones

86

"I won't come in, Garrett. I don't have time. These are notes I made during my rounds of the costume shops. They should be useful."

"Thanks. How is Tinnie doing?"

"So far, marvelously. But we aren't that far along. She'll have plenty of chances to be herself before we take the show live. I'm having Alyx Weider be her understudy. The competition should keep her focused."

"If you stick with Alyx."

"I know what I want to do for the girl. Crush."

"I'm listening." I used every second to look around. I was sure we were being watched but I didn't see anyone.

Morley, Sarge, and Puddle came out of the house, breaking my concentration.

Salvation asked, "Why are you sniffing like that?"

"Still fighting the cold." I lied. I knew a man who could be invisible when he was watching. He gave himself away sometimes because he never developed a sufficiently intimate relationship with soap and water.

I smelled nothing unusual.

Salvation, jostled by Sarge and Puddle, scowled as he said, "I'll have the actors sign a copy of the play and send her that. One of the rehearsal copies. Through you, so she doesn't take it the wrong way. I'll tuck in a pass to the premiere, in my box."

"That's overkill, Jon. She'll be absolutely sure you're out to get into her pants."

"Think so?"

"I think so. Crush may not have a lot of years on her but the ones she has have been rough enough to turn her completely cynical."

"That's too bad. She seems like a bright kid."

"She is. She thinks she's a complete realist, too. I know how you feel. I feel that way. She shouldn't waste herself the way she is. But I don't think she'd reach out to grab a helping hand to be rescued."

Salvation nodded. "She wouldn't because she would expect to be pulled into something worse."

"Exactly. But keep those options open. If I see her again I'll find out what she thinks. Subtly."

Morley had been waving to his troops and eavesdropping. He said, "You be subtle with a woman, Garrett? I find that hard to picture."

"You're probably right."

"Go for underkill, Salvation. Have Garrett pass the word she can come by and watch a rehearsal sometime, if she wants. Open-end offer. No big deal if she does or doesn't. Just an option. You're not buying anything that way."

Salvation and I gaped.

Morley said, "The way it sounds, you're interested in making an act of friendship. You don't buy friendship. Close your mouth, Garrett. A pigeon will fly in there and lay eggs."

He went back inside, leaving the door ajar.

I said, "That made sense, Jon."

"It did."

I thanked him for the notes. I followed Morley, pausing just long enough to add, "Tell your security crew to let Crush in if she shows up." Wondering if Mike would give a star that much freedom of motion.

"Yeah. It's Stage Two. Six in the morning till three. Then we clear out so they can set up for the early performance of King Kristine. We're almost always gone by one, though. Everyone has other things to do." He sneered.

King Kristine was not one of his. It was the story of a prince who was born a girl but her father hid the fact. A romantic comedy aimed at a female audience. As a newly crowned king, Kristine would fall for Waldon of the kingdom next door, just when her advisers wanted a war.

There have been numerous variations on the theme since plays got popular. It might turn out that Waldon was a girl, too. Or the princess the king was supposed to marry would be a pretty boy in drag. Along the way there would be lots of misunderstandings and mischief by friends.

Romantic comedies don't have legs but they sell well for a short while. They make nice fillers between the big dramas that draw the repeat customers.

The Faerie Queene would replace King Kristine about as soon as Jon Salvation had it ready to present.

I shut the door, went to Singe's office. On time. Dean and Playmate were delivering tea and sandwiches. The new drug had Playmate looking much better. He wore a smile that took no strain to produce.

I ate with one hand, read Jon Salvation's notes with the other, then passed them on to Singe. She kept a straight face, too.

"That something I should know about?" Block asked.

"It's mostly a lot of frustration. Plus instructions about what he wants Singe to put into a letter that he wants to go to a woman without her realizing that the letter came from him."

"He's going to do romantic comedy now?" Block gave me the fish-eye. He was ready to get all moody because I was lying. But I was only massaging the truth.

I said, "Here's a suggestion. Check around your shop. See if somebody has been buying a lot of costumes."

"We have been. We intend to put some patrolmen into uniform next quarter."

"That's a relief, then. I guess."

"You thought it was us behind all this?"

No. But I did want a brief distraction and Jon Salvation's notes did mention the Guard hiring costumers to produce uniforms for the troops and shiny outfits for their commanders.

I yakked. Singe worked some sleight of hand. Several sheets of notes disappeared. "Stop being a knee-jerk obstructionist and pass the notes to the General." She handed them to me, I handed them to Block. She said, "General, please pass those to the Windwalker once you read them."

So the notes made the rounds. And Block grumbled, "You were holding out. This tracking the costumes. ."

Singe said, "You were informed, General. Your ability to comprehend what you were hearing may have been compromised by your determination to lay waste to our reserve of ardent spirits."

She made me chuckle. And it might even have been true.

I couldn't remember.

Block grumbled, "So I'm a little behind." He got up, did some mild twists to loosen up. "I'll catch up."

Singe gestured. I led the General to the door, asking, "How come you're always out by yourself? You ought to be tripping over escorts."

"When I go out alone I go where I want and see what I want."

"Damn. I didn't think of it that way. Well, go spank some bad guys."

I shut the door and scooted back to Singe's office. "Morley. Did you get a chance. .? No wonder he hasn't said anything for a while."

He was sound asleep.

"All right, Singe. Let's do it. Strafa, we held back a couple of things. I wanted you to see them first."

The notes Block had not seen named people who had ordered stuff that may have become part of the midnight road show.

A woman calling herself Constance Algarda had taken delivery of seven hundred yards of coarse gray wool fabric and a score of well-seasoned bracer logs twelve feet long. Bracer is a lightweight tropical wood prized for its workability. A younger woman calling herself Kevans Algarda had ordered two pairs of high-top black-leather fuck-me boots from a cobbler associated with the tailor who specialized in fetish wear. Said cobbler believed the same woman patronized a nearby wigmaker. The cobbler had waxed poetic about the Algarda woman's structure.

A man who claimed to be Barate Algarda paid for the goods in each case. In neither case had a delivery been made. These people transported their own goods.

Jon Salvation had worked wonders just by being Jon Salvation.

Strafa said, "This is impossible."

"I agree."

"As do I," Singe said. "That is why I hid the notes. As Garrett requested."

I told Strafa, "This part has to be on you. And you need to move fast. Block and Relway will be all over this. It puts them ahead of the busybodies from the Palace and the Hill." Only Saucerhead had gone round the theater support shops before Salvation.

"I'll start with Barate. I don't know where he'd get the money, but if he is the one. ." She whisked out, turned left toward the kitchen and stair instead of toward the front door.

I looked at Singe. She said, "I don't believe it is those three. Well, maybe the old woman. . We need to be careful."

"You think Shadowslinger would frame her own flesh and blood?"

"Most of those Hill monsters would. My concern is us getting tangled up in guilt by association."

"Oh." Maybe I picked the exact wrong time to get involved with a Windwalker.

Singe said, "It's too bad she is the only one who can go out. Someone ought to take the artwork to show the cobbler, wigmaker, and fetish tailor."

Scarier and scarier. "You should have thought of that before she left."

"I will talk to her when she gets back."