Part 35 (1/2)
Tharpe shrugged.
”Singe?”
”Do not ask me. I am a tracker. I can help you find an answer only by tracking those men back. If they came here on our trail, that would be obvious in a short time. Do you wish to try that?”
”Would it take long to make sure?”
”Ten minutes,” Singe promised.
”Saucerhead, stick with her. Soon as she makes up her mind, head for... where, Singe?”
”The Tersize Granary.”
”Sniff Morley and me out, Singe.”
”Or Garrett and I,” Dotes said. Then, once they took off, ”You planning on rus.h.i.+ng into this?”
”You have a suggestion?”
”Same old, same old as always. Be ready for trouble.”
He meant weaponry. Armaments, in fact. He'd lug a siege ballista if he could get one into a pocket. And use it at the least excuse. And feel no remorse afterward.
”I have my stick.”
Morley was not overawed.
”If I need something nastier, I'll take it away from somebody.”
”You're not as young and quick as you think you are.”
”Is anybody? Ever?”
”So stipulated. Without excusing your silly refusal to look out for yourself.”
”Oh-oh. I get the feeling my weapons habits are about to take second place to my dietary habits.”
”Since you bring it up...”
And so it went. Thirty minutes later we sighted the Tersize Granary. Which, till recently, had been the Royal Karentine Military Granary, whence vast tonnages of feed grains, flours, and finished baked goods (read rock-hard hardtack in hundredweight barrels) barged down a ca.n.a.l to the river and thence to the war zone. The operating Tersize family acquired it from the Ministry of War, cheap after the killing stopped.
I said, ”The Tersizes are related to the Contagues somehow, aren't they?”
”Chodo's stepsister Cloris married Misias Tersize. But they weren't in bed with the Outfit. That I've heard. The place isn't what it used to be,” Morley said of the sprawl of redbrick milling and storage facilities.
Much of it appeared to have gone derelict. ”You know this area?” I didn't. ”I don't see any sign of squatters.” TunFaire is inundated with refugees from a war zone that no longer exists.
”No. The place used to be a fort. The millers and bakers couldn't get in or out without a military pa.s.s. You want to wait for Saucerhead and Singe?”
Recalling times when I'd just charged in, ”I think so.”
”Developing a taste for caution? At this late date?”
”I have responsibilities now. Dean. The Dead Man. Seven kittens. And a girlfriend who'll hunt me down in h.e.l.l if I get myself killed before I can visit her in her sickbed.”
”Why don't we just slip into the lee of one of these buildings while we wait, then? Because I've just figured out why there aren't any squatters.”
I caught what his sharper elfish eyes had spied already.
Three sizable men ambled along the street beside the westernmost wall of the granary. One checked the doors that existed at regular intervals, formerly for loading and unloading. The street-side walls of the granary were the outer faces of the various structures included in the complex, connected by the outer faces of single-story sheds. Tinnie's family lived in a similar complex. It included family housing, worker housing, warehousing, and manufacturing workshops. The Tate compound, though, had a smaller footprint and was less imposing vertically.
”You know, brunos look pretty much the same wherever you find them. But I have a definite feeling that these three wouldn't be embarra.s.sed if their mothers dressed them in green plaid pants.” Had Block cut them loose? Or were there more of them than suspected, now avoiding the Bledsoe project and public attention?
The door checker of the three performed his function again, using a stick much like the one I carried. The others were better armed. Or worse, if you have a tendency to acknowledge the law. One carried a set of swords, long and short. The other lugged a siege engine of a crossbow, drawn and loaded. They were looking for trouble.
”You have a nasty way of thinking, my friend. But you're right. Go talk to them. See if they have a country accent. If they are Green Pants people, we'll know why there's always more of them than we expect to see.”
”You go. Beauty defers to age.”
”Speaking of beauty and beast. Tharpe and Singe should have been here by now. I'm getting a chill.”
”If we have to walk all the way around the place, you'll warm up... Uh-oh!”
The stick man had found a door that swung inward. That it shouldn't have done was obvious instantly.
Blades came out. The crossbowman backed off a few steps. The stick man moved in, with no caution whatsoever.
Ratmen boiled past him. Preceded by a swarm of missiles that might have been tavern darts. That was so remarkable that stick man and sword man alike failed to do anything but duck. Crossbowman managed only to take the striped stocking cap off the head of an especially long, gaunt ratman. The pack was too chaotic for an accurate count. They disappeared before the security men pulled themselves together.
The three looked around, realized there was nothing they could do about the ratmen, went inside to see what the ratmen had been doing.
Ratmen materialized. I recognized John Stretch. They slammed the door shut and nailed it in place. Then the rat king headed our way while his minions congratulated one another.
”He knew we were here,” I said.
”Yes.” Morley examined our surroundings thoughtfully.
I checked for normal rats myself till John Stretch was close enough to hear me ask, ”What was all that?”
”We wanted the patrol out of our fur. They will not be missed for a while. But we have no time to spare.”
”You timed all that for our arrival?”
The ratman seemed concerned about my intelligence. ”No.”
”But you did know that we were lurking around out here.”