Wicked Bronze Ambition

28

I shut the door behind Tara Chayne. That bastion of insensitivity was last to leave, hinting that she needed me to see her safely home.

His Nibs assured me that what she wanted was exactly what I suspected.

He observed, None of those people knew anything about Strafa’s killer and not much of value about the Tournament of Swords. Only Lady Tara Chayne is completely convinced that a new tournament is in the works. The others are taking it seriously only because Strafa is dead.

Well, hell. Did they think somebody was working a scam?

That could be, though I had some doubts after my encounters.

The scam thesis remains on the table.

He, too, had trouble accepting that anyone would really believe that a Tournament of Swords could be managed under contemporary conditions. “There are people with the talent to run a game on the Hill crowd, but do any of them have the guts?” The consequences could be grim. Might as well mess with Deal Relway or Belinda Contague. Your death would be easier.

It is deserving of reflection. Though not rational, initiation of a tournament is not rational, either.

He shuffled the clutter inside my head. He did the same with Penny and Singe, Belinda and John Stretch, then proclaimed the obvious.

There is something missing.

“There is a lot that’s missing. Like any sense. We’ve established that already.”

He began to muse, allowing the rest of us the rare treat of witnessing the process. It is intriguing to see how his minds work. He sorted through speculations that were entirely ridiculous, like Strafa and Vicious Min having been struck by accidental discharges or having been attacked because of a case of mistaken identity.

He knew the ideas were absurd but wanted to test every conceivable notion. The truth might appear just as absurd at first blush.

The others drank beer and didn’t say much. I went to the Dead Man’s room and did the same. Penny came in to work on one of her paintings.

I tried picking at the edges of the mistaken identity notion, couldn’t make it hold water. Strafa had been attacked deliberately, no doubt about it. Vicious Min had been injured at the same time.

I must see this woman. Race and Dex, as well, but Min most of all, as soon as it can be arranged.

“You’ve found a thread?”

Perhaps. It has occurred to me to wonder why a Dread Companion, supposedly conjured from a supernatural realm and the only such creature so far actually noted, would arrive before the tournament began. And would then hire persons in your own trade to follow your movements. There is something odd about that.

“Race and Dex? Are you sure? I don’t see how they could give us anything. I grilled them good today.”

You did indeed. And they may be empty vessels. But it is equally possible that they know something unrelated to what you asked that they did not report, either, and that might reflect obliquely on the situation.

I was skeptical. Those two were neither heart nor soul of the Algarda family operation. They cooked and cleaned.

For example, we assumed that Strafa was coming home when she was attacked. But was she, in fact? Could she have been at home already and was called out? Might she have just gone to see why Vicious Min was loitering out front? Do we know anything about that woman that she did not tell other witnesses herself?

“You could be right. Min told Barate. .”

Yes. But.

We had only Min’s word for anything involving Vicious Min.

The more I think about this demon woman, the more I want to make her acquaintance. She may have had a hand in the assassination. Perhaps she had some bad luck, got hurt, got caught, but because there were no contradicting witnesses, she recouped her fortunes with a tall tale delivered before she passed out from loss of blood.

That is what he does. He sees things from an unlikely angle. That scenario fit the facts. I stipulated as much. “But why would she have me watched?” Preston Womble had known no whys. He had known only that a man needed money to buy food and pay the rent and someone had given him cash to do what he knew how to do best. Elona Muriat would have known nothing more than he did.

I recalled hungry times when I worked under the same blind circumstances. Every client lied about why the job needed doing.

The deception came with the life. You got used to it.

Womble and Muriat are unemployed now. We might lure them here with a job offer.

“Won’t work. They won’t have anything to do with me.”

We will not send you. Have Miss Winger collect the woman. Have Mr. Tharpe. . No. He is well known as an associate of yours. Mr. Playmate would be better, if his health is up to the legwork. Failing him, try Jon Salvation or Mr. Kolda. They might find the prospect exciting. Mr. Womble or Miss Muriat should not connect this neighborhood with you till they are too close to make their escape.

Only if they hadn’t done their homework. I’d been living with Strafa when Vicious Min sicced them on me. Damn! Those two could turn out to be gold mines in the land of things we didn’t know we knew.