Wicked Bronze Ambition

86

“Is there a plan for today?” Tara Chayne asked, picking at lunch and pretending I was in charge. “Something more directed than what we did yesterday?”

“We did good work. We got stuff stirred. We got stuff done.”

Denvers had produced a fine lunch. I wondered what it would take to get him to take over for Dean. It was time Dean stepped back and slowed down.

Realistically, there was no chance that Denvers would. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

The sisters had made some surface peace. Tara Chayne was treating her twin as a truculent associate in our enterprise.

I couldn’t turn a blind eye to what had happened earlier, but they had no trouble because they had decades of practice.

I understood the core motives behind the shift.

There was an angry professional killer out there who might be interested in hurting Moonslight. Her place in the conspiracy needed redefinition.

I was too groggy to think about anything but aches and pains in a body unaccustomed to so much extended, unhealthy exercise.

Pain is proof that exercise is not good. Pain is nature’s way of telling you to knock it off or you’re going to hurt yourself.

Oh, sigh. “I was thinking about going to Constance’s place, getting everybody together, see who found out what, then scope out what to do next. Especially where Magister Bezma and Orchidia Hedley-Farfoul are concerned.”

I probably ought to see Morley and Belinda and check in at the house to see if anyone there had heard anything interesting. We had all kinds of people supposed to be snooping. And the Dead Man might, hopefully, be recovering.

The twins grunted in unison. Tara Chayne said, “I was hoping for something more direct. I like a plan more sophisticated than ‘Let’s go whale on some bushes with sticks and see what runs out.’” She eyed her sister as though willing Mariska to contribute.

Mariska had nothing.

Since her recapture Moonslight spent much of her time drifting off the way I was so much lately. Maybe we should become a couple. But of what?

Denvers still had dogs in the foyer, out of weather that had gone damp again. He felt comfortable leaving the door propped open so they could take their business outside.

They barked some, neither alarmed nor combative. Denvers went to check, came back to announce, “Some people to see Mr. Garrett. Associates of his, they say.”

Tara Chayne said, “Bring them in. See if they’re hungry. Unless there are a lot of them. We can’t feed a whole tribe.”

“There are two, ma’am. We have no suitable furniture.”

That told me who the visitors must be.

Sure enough, Denvers came back with Pular Singe and Dollar Dan Justice. Singe declined the offer of hospitality. Dan looked disappointed. He was a real rat, and real rats are always ready to tuck in. You never know when you will get the chance again.

I marveled that Singe had found me even in wet weather. Maybe I was developing Lurking Fehlske syndrome.

She started out giving me an evil, accusatory look but lost that after sniffing the air and finding me not guilty. I don’t know why she would suspect me, with Tara Chayne. Females always expect the worst of us, I suppose so they can be pleasantly surprised every dozen years or so.

I asked, “What’s up? Did something happen?”

“Very little. Yet. I became concerned because you failed to come home.”

“Exhaustion caught up.” I didn’t mention our gargoyle adventure.

Trying to stagger home last night would have been tempting fate. No way would I have been alert enough to slip another ambush. Nor had Brownie and the girls been at their best.

I was confident that “they” were still out to get me.

Whoa! Hey. Kevans became Mortal Champion because Furious Tide of Light had been eliminated before the tournament’s official commencement. And they had tried to get her already.

I told Tara Chayne, “We definitely need to go to Constance’s place.” I asked Singe, “Any change in Vicious Min?”

“Not obviously. She is restless again. With Himself asleep. .”

“Yeah.” I had to worry big-time. Min might do some serious damage if she recovered even a little, as she had before. She might do permanent damage to Dean and the Dead Man.

Singe told me, “I brought in Saucerhead and Winger and told them to protect people and property if they could but to let her go if it looked like she might hurt somebody. If Kolda’s drugs are not enough. I had Kolda give her some herbals.”

Once again my little girl had proven herself so thoughtful and confident that it was scary.

“I told Penny and Dean no fighting Min. They should keep our inside doors closed so she cannot get into my office or the Dead Man’s room. Dean can barricade the kitchen and go out the back if necessary. Mr. Mulclar worked on the back door. Dean can manage it now. I do not think Min can get upstairs. She should only be interested in getting away, anyway. Humility will have someone there to track her if she does run.”

At her suggestion, no doubt.

John Stretch is brilliant, yet I do suspect that he owes some of his success to his sister’s quiet suggestions.

“That’s good,” I told her. She needs the occasional dose of praise. “How about Playmate and the girl?”

“Playmate has gone home. He was concerned about his business.”

“He should be. Why he leaves his idiot brother-in-law in charge is beyond me. What about Hagekagome? She go with?”

The dogs showed an interest when I said the name.

“He puts the brother-in-law in charge because he hopes responsibility will bring the man to a new appreciation of reality. An indulgence in willful wishful thinking, I expect. The girl stayed. Penny has her in with her. There is something exceedingly strange about that child.”

“No kidding. Both of them, actually. But some people who know about Hagekagome want to keep it secret from me.”

Tara Chayne might not have heard.

Singe asked, “How old would you guess she is?”

“Fourteen? Developed but a runt. And really, really slow.” Tapping the side of my head.

“I would have guessed her to be about ten, but I’m not the sort who focuses on a human female’s secondary sexual characteristics. Penny says she keeps telling stories about wonderful times you had together when she was living with you. Really simpleminded stories. Going for walks, chasing squirrels, curling up in bed together.”

“That never happened. I remember every woman and girl I ever shared a bed with, even when all we did was sleep. Like my cousin Hattie when we were five. I never slept with a ten-year-old. Ever. And squirrels? I haven’t seen a squirrel since I was ten. Not outside the Botanical Gardens. There aren’t any trees for them anymore. Firewood thieves cut the trees down and hungry people ate the squirrels.”

“I know. All that. None of it sounds like you. And Penny says the way Hagekagome tells it that stuff did all happen when you were ten.”

“What? No. But. .” But.

I have seen enough to know never to use the word impossible. A dim and worshipful girl who had slipped a few decades in time? Unlikely, but I couldn’t reject the notion. I’d get my nose rubbed in it for sure if I did.

The trouble was, there’d never been a Hagekagome in my life before the funeral. Stipulating that I did have a vague sense that I ought to know that name.

A wave of sadness welled up and nearly brought me to tears.

“You remembered something?”

“No. I just thought about Strafa. Maybe I’ll go see her later.”