Part 5 (2/2)
”He will not ask for cash.” I groaned. ”A favor for a favor.”
”What use can you be to a ratman gangster?” A human agent could be very useful to a rat king who knew what he wanted.
”You want me to find him? You do not have a lot of time.”
In fact, it was too late. Almost certainly. Nevertheless, ”See what you can do.”
Singe was ready to go in minutes. I told her, ”Leave the kitten. It won't be welcome where you're headed.”
She returned the critter to the bucket. ”They grow on you.”
”So do lice. Don't get too attached. They aren't staying.”
I let Singe out right into a major pixie squabble. Those bugs are worse than sparrows. But they're so constant about it that I don't much notice anymore.
I told them, ”I want to talk to Shakespear and Melondie Kadare, please.” Polite helps a little. Sometimes. Unpredictably. About as often as it does with big people.
If I couldn't get ratpeople help, I might enlist some pixies. Which would be cheaper, anyway, since helping me is how they're supposed to pay their rent.
Melondie Kadare came out, a gorgeous specimen of pixie womanhood. Sadly, pixies live fast. Melondie will hit middle age in about six months. She was a typically obnoxious adolescent when I met her, a month ago. Now she was a woman of standing in her nest.
She piped, ”Shakespear isn't here anymore, Garrett. He married a Daletripses. He decided to join her nest.”
Pixie cl.u.s.ters are strongly matrilineal. Most times the boys follow the girls.
”Congratulations. I guess. That's an important connection.” My pixies are newcomers to TunFaire. Refugees. The Daletripses cl.u.s.ter is an old line, as local pixie tribes go. A marital alliance would serve my tenants well. ”Though I thought that you and he...”
”Let's not talk about that. I have a husband of my own now. And he don't like hearing about the good old days.”
”I'm sorry. If that's the appropriate sentiment.”
”Not to worry. He's a little stupid, a lot lazy, and way too jealous, but I'll whip him into shape.”
Marriage doesn't take the same form with pixies. Pa.s.sion is unimportant. Forging alliances and preserving estates are. Pa.s.sion gets indulged on the side. In some cl.u.s.ters a girl isn't marriage material unless she's demonstrated her fertility with several merrybegots.
”I want to know if I can get some help with a case.”
”Hey! We've got to pay the rent, don't we?”
”It might be dangerous.”
”Talk to me, Garrett.”
I told my story.
”So you have a history with the Contagues.”
”More than one.”
”Better tell me about that, then. It could have an impact on how decisions are made at the head table.”
Belinda wouldn't let sentiment hamstring business decisions. She was harder than her father. And Chodo seldom let emotion get in the way.
”This hall, Garrett. Where this will happen. Is it far out of our territory?”
”You know where the Bledsoe is? The charity hospital? That whole area was all government buildings in olden times. When the Empire was in charge. The hall is over there. It was something else before they turned it into a war memorial. They were more frugal in the old days.”
”Are there any pixies around there? Or anybody else who might think we're trespa.s.sing?”
TunFaire is a hundred cities piled onto the same hapless patch of dirt, a different one for every race. Some peoples are so different, their TunFaires scarcely intersect. More often, they do, and only us big, numerous types don't need to invest in getting along. We can be as awful as we want to be. And usually are.
”I don't know. I only just found out that the s.h.i.+ndig is moving there from Morley's place. I haven't been in that part of town since somebody got me committed to the crazy ward at the Bledsoe.”
”That must've been an adventure. How'd you lie your way out? Convince them you were sane?”
”I convinced them I was so crazy they didn't want me there.”
”There isn't much time. You'll have to take us with you when you go. Keeping us out of sight.”
That wouldn't work. I couldn't walk for miles lugging a carpetbag full of squabbling pixies.
Melondie read my mind. So to speak. ”Don't be such a cheap-a.s.s, Garrett. Hire a coach. We can get there unseen. And you can show up without looking like a refugee yourself.” Everybody nags me about the way I dress. n.o.body believes me if I poor-mouth. They all think I'm rich. Just because I have those points in the three-wheel factory.
Melondie's idea was sound. ”Can somebody fly a note to Playmate's stable?” My friend Playmate doesn't have a coach of his own, but he can come up with one at a moment's notice, usually. And I like to give my business to friends. Plus, as a bonus, Playmate is about nine feet tall and handy to have around when a debate turns physical.
”I suppose.” She wasn't enthusiastic. Long-distance flights are risky for pixies. Too many things out there think they look like food.
”Excellent. I'll write one up and we can get the circus moving.”
I spied Singe returning. A couple human kids were giving her a hard time. I didn't go chase them. She wouldn't like that. She wants to fight her own battles.
Melondie had none of my problems. She whistled into the gap her tribe uses to get in and out of my walls. A half dozen adolescent bugs zipped out and hummed down the street. They got behind the human kids' heads and started tormenting them.
Singe arrived. ”John Stretch says he will be thrilled to help the great Garrett with a case. He insists that he bring his own rats instead of relying on those that will be in place already, though.”
”Fine. I'm sending a note to Playmate to bring a coach.”
”You changed your mind!”
”Don't go getting all excited. You'll stay inside it. You'll help John Stretch run his game.”
11.
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