Gilded Latten Bones

94

Westman Block and a clutch of red tops infested my stoop and the street in front of my house. Strafa, a broom, and I slid down through the morning air. They spotted us as Strafa eased up to my window. Block had a lot to say down there but I couldn't hear him over Strafa's grumbling. I gave him a big grin and a bold thumbs up.

Strafa was exasperated. "It's shut again."

"What is?"

"The window. Somebody keeps shutting it while I'm gone." She made gestures and muttered sourly.

I could guess who had done the shutting. I wasn't sure why.

Did Singe want to sabotage the new order?

The window slid upward. It made no sound.

"You'd make a great second-story man, woman."

"Sweetheart, please climb through. Same as when we left."

I dismounted without losing my composure or footing. I focused on the window. I have trouble with heights when I'm just standing around, looking down, from a place whence I could actually fall if I did something stupid. The fear is more manageable when I'm doing something implausible, like riding a broomstick with a witch.

I got inside without discovering a need to change my underwear.

Strafa darted in before I finished celebrating. The tip of her broom handle bonked me in the back of the head.

We treated ourselves to a few seconds of kissy-face huggybear; then the grown-up half of the crowd said, "You'd better go downstairs and see if Prince Rupert is still here."

"That bed sure looks inviting. And I mean for sleeping."

"Downstairs. Go. Barate used to say, 'We can sleep as much as we want after we're dead.' "

"Yeah. He missed his calling as a top kick in the corps."

Always literal minded, Strafa said, "He was a counterespionage specialist in Full Harbor. He did two tours, one before I was born and another after my mother died."

No comment. One more hug. One more kiss, me having trouble believing this was happening. Then downstairs we went.

We found the Crown Prince asleep in Singe's office. Singe was not there. She was in bed. So was Dean. The number-two man in Karenta was being entertained by Dollar Dan Justice to the extent that the ratman was in the same room. He was asleep, too.

I wakened both gently, Dollar Dan first. He muttered something about making tea and shuffled out.

Rupert wakened with an exaggerated start, obviously unsure where he was or why he was there. I found keeping a straight face to be a huge effort.

He had the most ridiculous, wonderful confection on his head, a massive ball of silver thread, wire, ribbon, and nonsense. It dropped down to his shoulders in back, his neck on the sides, and even covered most of his face.

"Did something tickle your funny bone, Mr. Garrett?"

He had the voice of a lord, I'll grant that. It was a rich deep voice made for command.

"Your chapeau took me by surprise."

"Now you're going to tell me I wasted my time."

"You did, Your Grace. Himself is asleep." I should make some cheat cards. I don't spend enough time around royalty to know the proper forms of address. Rupert didn't puff up and turn red so Your Grace was good enough for now.

"So I understand. It probably doesn't matter, anyway. I came here to keep my brother from making a big mistake, trying to use the Palace Guard that way."

I shrugged. "I don't know what his thoughts were, either."

"I sent word that I wanted to talk to you."

"I've been busy." I thought I had my mouth under control. Strafa, though, shuffled uncomfortably. "But here I am. Let's do it quick. I still have things that need doing."

I should not have added that. His time was precious. Mine was the worthless property of a trivial subject.

He did glance at Strafa, plainly wondering if she was what was distracting me from becoming an instrument of his will. "All right, then. I've already missed a night of sleep because of my brother. A while with you won't make any difference."

"What do you want from me, then?"

"Two things: this business of the thread men, then a renewal of my offer of employment. Tribune Felhske isn't working out."

"He's a better investigator than I am. And he wants the job."

"He is better than you only in a limited sense. What you lack in specific skills and ambition you make up in honesty."

"Felhske is a crook?"

"He takes excessive advantage of his position. He isn't yet aware that I know about his bad behavior."

"I'm disappointed. I recommended him. But I'm still not interested. I like my life the way it is."

"Talk it over with Strafa. She ought to have some say."

"I'll do that. Though. . Never mind. There was another matter?"

"The important thing. I want you, Strafa, and all of your friends, to back off and stay backed off of the thread men thing. And I do mean it."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to." He frowned, puzzled by the fact that I would even ask.

"Ain't gonna happen."

"Excuse me?" He lurched forward in his chair, as though his ears must have betrayed him because of the distance between us.

"You've been telling lots of people to back off. You won't say why. Has even one of them listened? I don't think so. Some maybe try to be less obvious but they're keeping on keeping on. I'll keep on myself till I get my hands on whoever tried to kill my friend."

Strafa made a hissing sound, trying to caution me.

Rupert reddened till I feared he might have a stroke. He was not accustomed to hearing straight talk.

I said, "It isn't about you. Or your brother, which is where this must be coming from. None of the people working on rooting out the thread men. . Why did you call them that?"

"Because they're sewn together."

"Oh. Clever. They aren't so much of a problem. It's the people doing the sewing that we want."

"It is necessary that those people be left to their peers."

"The villains who run the Hill? I saw their thugs out there masquerading as Palace Guards. Makes you wonder who's in charge."

Prince Rupert's eyes bugged. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Strafa asked, "You didn't know? You didn't see them?"

I said, "They blend in like gorillas in skirts."

"That isn't possible."

"Talk to your commander. Talk to your top kick. They had to know."

The Prince got a grip. "Be that as it may, I have my orders. I will execute them."

"Even if they're illegal? You're the great champion of the rule of law."

"The Crown is the law, Mr. Garrett."

"I don't think so."

Strafa said, "Garrett!"

"Even an ignorant peasant like me knows divine right don't click anymore. If your brother starts thinking he can make up laws as he goes along he won't get to make very many. Add up how many kings we've had in our lifetimes. You might have to take off a shoe to count them all."

Strafa said, "Garrett, that's enough."

Prince Rupert was furious. I, being tired and twisted, was reverting to contrary Garrett. I saw me doing it but could not engage the governor on my jaw.

Singe arrived with the tea that Dollar Dan had gone to get. There were some yesterday biscuits and hard-boiled eggs. "Please pardon Mr. Garrett, Your Grace. He suffers from a congenital defect that makes him say stupid things when he is awake." She deposited the tray on a folding table beside Prince Rupert, then faced me. "You. Come with me." Over her shoulder, "If you will excuse us for a moment, Your Grace?"

We crossed the hallway to the Dead Man's room. I spotted the Bird snoring on the floor in a corner. I had thought he had left a long time ago.

"What the hell is the matter with you? That's the godsdamned Crown Prince of Karenta in there. You're acting like he is. . Like he is another Bird." She waved a paw. "Don't you have the sense the gods gave a drunken goose? Are you bucking for a career in swamp drainage?"

"If I could get a word. ."

"You don't need to get a word in. It will be some godsdamned absurd excuse. I have heard you state that excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one, and they all stink."

"I. ."

"Grow up, Garrett."

"But. ."

"Ten years ago. . Five years ago you could indulge in all this obnoxious, stupid shit you wanted. It did not matter. No one but you got pounded over the head. You do not have that luxury anymore. Making yourself feel big by being a dick toward people in authority is no longer an option."

Wow! Singe was well and thoroughly pissed off. And she was just getting warmed up.

"Go back in there. Go on being a jerk. But before you start, tell me what will come of it after you get your moment of strutting around congratulating yourself on how you showed somebody?"

"All right, Singe. I get it. I'll jump in there and kiss his ass and lick his boots and beg him to use a little lard when he bends me over."

She slapped me.

That stunned me silent.

Her arms were not long enough to let her get a good windup but the impact stung plenty anyway.

My little girl was seriously upset. I might want to invest a few seconds in trying to work out why.

I had told Prince Rupert that things were not all about him. I suppose Singe wanted me to recognize that they were not all about me, either.

That unhappy man across the hall had the power to make me and everyone I ever met extremely unhappy. And he was just one breath away from having the power to make that unhappiness eternal.

Rupert might be a fool but he was not just some passing moron that I could sneer at and disdain to his face.

"I get what you want me to see, Singe." But I couldn't surrender completely. "I'll go kiss the idiot and make it better."

The way Singe moved then, I feared she might be looking for a club big enough to pound me into a shape she found acceptable.