Wicked Bronze Ambition

27

Company proved to be Barate Algarda, Kevans, Kyoga Stornes, and one of the Machtkess girls, all of whom arrived in Shadowslinger’s coach. The wicked old witch did not come with them.

She had an excuse. Barate explained, “She had an apoplectic breakdown.”

It sounds like it may have been a stroke.

We settled in Singe’s office. Dean served tea. Lady Tara Chayne and Kyoga were pale and severely stressed by the company, though they didn’t know Belinda or John Stretch. They just couldn’t be comfortable in a situation where rat people were not only present but were equals-and maybe even the smartest people in the room.

Why hadn’t Barate warned them?

He did.

“Got it.” Naturally, several people wondered why I would chat with the air.

Mr. Algarda did not know that Pound Humility would be here. He did tell them about Singe. They did not believe him.

I sensed some serious disgruntlement on his side of the hallway. Something was not what he wanted it to be, either.

They are all wearing those silver hair nets.

So what? People have worn those to the house, trying to keep him out of their heads, since Kevans and Kip Prose thought them up. They don’t work. Not for long, anyway. Old Bones always finds a way around them.

These are working quite well, below the surface. If they conduct their business quickly, they will be gone before I find a workaround.

Interesting.

They would argue that they did not want the Dead Man to have unrestricted access to the insides of their heads, which wasn’t unreasonable. The problem is, no one believes he will stick to peeking only where he is invited, an attitude not based on real-world evidence.

My racket has taught me that most people judge others by the way they think themselves. Claims otherwise are tactics and deception. Villains know we’re all exactly as black hearted as them. Naive pacifist vegetarians are sure that everyone else really would rather sit down and talk it out.

There is a bell curve of character from irredeemably vile to blind romantic idealism. The predators on the dark side feed on folks from the other, confident that they deserve it for their idiot outlook.

Which would seem to be inconsistent with the conviction that everyone thinks exactly the way they do. But if you brought that up, the villains would give you a blank stare and fail to grasp your point.

This explains why the world needs us smug-ass sheepdog types from a shade to the bleak side of the median point on the curve.

Thank Singe for that poindexter imagery.

“Why would she have a breakdown?” I asked.

“Anger. Word came, I don’t know how, that the Algardas are in the tournament, like it or not, and Kevans is now your Mortal Companion.”

The girl had been a zombie since she arrived. Now I knew why.

“What?” Why hadn’t Old Bones warned me? “Screw that. But how can that be?”

“Simple. The Operators decided that since Strafa was attacked prematurely, they were free to change up on us. We’re still in. You see why Mother was upset.”

“And then some. I might do some changing up myself, by means of cranial redesign, once I find these Operators.”

Remain calm. Do not say anything more. I believe this is extremely important.

He has me trained. Despite my inclination to rage, I put it away.

The others may have received similar suggestions. Neither John Stretch, Belinda, Morley, nor Singe said a word, though questions could have fallen like heavy snow.

There was some Dead Man gamesmanship afoot. He was hoping to maneuver someone into doing something they did not want to do.

Exactly.

Not particularly comforting. Most times, someone turns out to be me.

Curiously, Kevans has the most accessible mind. Ironic, inasmuch as she designed and keeps upgrading the hair nets. Her father is almost as accessible. He is sure that Shadowslinger’s episode was not calculated to avoid this visit. He is close to being paralyzed by dread that it may be worse than the physician reported.

That wouldn’t be good. We couldn’t have that darkness, as a looming threat, missing from our quiver.

Barate said, “You did ask us to come see your partner, Garrett.”

“I did, hoping he would have access to your minds. It’s finding things that you don’t know you know, and the connections between them, that makes him so valuable. Closed up the way you are with those nets, you may as well not have come.”

Kevans was startled. Frightened even.

Had she really thought that we didn’t know?

Yes. Really. I did my best to keep it from being obvious.

My bad, giving things away, here.

Me at my age still having trouble thinking things through beforehand.

I didn’t expect anybody to shed their protection. I wanted them thinking about whatever it was that they really wanted to hide. Old Bones could skim those thoughts off the surfaces of their minds. But Barate began untangling the net that had been so artfully installed in his hair.

Old Bones touched me lightly, approving my tactics, offering suggestions, then noting, This one is deadly serious about this.

You don’t get a lot of tonal information from the Dead Man’s communications. There was plenty in that, though.

I asked Barate, “Did Constance have any thoughts about who the Operators might be?”

Algarda was startled. The same question must have occurred to him.

I needed not pursue that now that the mesh was off.

Kevans began removing her net.

Garrett, you smooth talker, you. Look at this. All these people who swim in seas of secrets taking a leap of faith because of the murder of a woman they all loved.

I will not betray the trust they have offered me, even to you. Nor to you, Singe. Gossip and speculate as you will. I shall neither confirm nor deny.

That made his position clear to them, too.

I told my father-in-law, “I got the impression that she had someone in mind but wanted to test her suspicions before she said anything.”

Tara Chayne started trying to remove her hair net. That got ugly fast. She was wearing a partial wig with hair extensions. The mesh was integrated into those, which she did not want to do without.

There was some serious vanity there. Or maybe more than vanity. She was partly bald beneath the appliances.

Barate relaxed slightly. “She didn’t say anything to me, but I think you’re right.”

He has mild suspicions of his own regarding his friend Kyoga and someone called Bonegrinder.

The Kyoga suspicion was off to the boneyard already. Stornes had his mesh halfway off. Old Bones assured me, This one is an empty vessel. Almost literally. The only thing going on inside his head is obsessive concern about the safety of his children.

“Plural?” I had heard only one mentioned before.

There are several. You have encountered two of them before, as members of the Faction.

“Egad. Life. Everything ties back into everything else.”

I got looks. People aren’t comfortable when Old Bones and I have private sidebars.

Which point please keep in mind. Mr. Algarda has given us the complete and literal truth, as he knows it, regarding his mother’s thinking.

Interesting way of putting that. It might mean that Old Bones had stumbled over a low-grade suspicion that he did not yet want to share.

True.

Grumble, grumble. Why do these things have to be so complicated?

Just once why can’t it be easy?

Because the stupid people get rounded up and sent to the labor camps before their careers begin? Before they get far enough in life to cause me grief?

An intriguingly solipsist hypothesis.

I stumble over stupid villains like I dodge road apples in the street. Stupid is the fifth element of creation and, probably, the most common, or else some magnetic power attracts it all to TunFaire.

Penny showed up with fresh tea. She was surprised to see the size of the crowd. Dean had not warned her. I expected her to flee to the Dead Man’s room, her own, or to the kitchen, but she just backed off to the doorway and asked, “What’s going on?”

Old Bones handled the updates. His responsibility, after all. She was his pet.