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the countryside? Nobody but farmers or mammoths or woods elves would be
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bothered out there. I wanted to grab a big megaphone and yell, "People, we got
folks trying to sleep around here!"
I dropped the curtain. After a minute I felt fine. I didn't have a hangover.
What did I drink? One beer? Good. Still, maybe I should ease up on the health
food for a while.
As I descended to the kitchen I recalled my housemate shortage. I'd have to
build my own breakfast. Boy. Life just ain't fair.
The Goddamn Parrot heard me moving around and squawked. He started the thing
where he pretends to be a small child begging not to be abused.
He was back to his old self. I'd feed him if I started feeling generous and
forgiving. Which could not possibly come anytime but later.
I got some bacon frying and some water heating for tea, then went over the
ground floor one last time, hoping I'd find something I was too tired to
notice last night. I came up with the same big batch of nothing. No getting
around it. Dean and the Dead Man were gone. There was no suggestion of foul
play. They'd gotten up and gone because they'd wanted to get up and go.
I sipped tea and nibbled bacon and snacked on halfway stale bread dipped in
bacon drippings while I tried to get my mind wrapped around the notion that
the Dead Man had moved voluntarily. That would make twice in my lifetime. Last
time was when I moved him in here.
Give him another generation and he'd be dancing in the streets.
I glanced at the keg in the cold well. Tempting. But it was too early. And I
had work to do.
I shivered. Events had left me a mighty hill to climb.
"Shut up in there!" I barked at Mr. Big, who was singing the marching song of
ten thousand verses, each of which begins, "I don't know but I've been told .
. . "
I poured tea, stirred in a spoon of honey, found a muffin young enough not to
scar the hardwood if I dropped it, migrated to my office. "Good morning,
Eleanor."
The lady in the painting smiled enigmatically, bemused by my morning
dishabille. She didn't surprise me when she didn't have anything to say.
The Goddamn Parrot was stuck on a verse about ratgirls. It didn't flatter
them. He must not have been completely comatose last night.
Me, I thought better of ratgirls since meeting Pular Singe. Hers was an
acquaintance worth nurturing.
"So, darling. Did the Dead Man take off so he wouldn't complicate my life now
that I'm involved with righsists? Or did he feel unfulfilled and had to find
himself and realize his potential?" That was a chuckle. Without continuous
nagging Old Bones has the potential of an iceberg. He'll slide downhill if he
isn't at the bottom already. If you give him a push.
I finished my muffin and tea, went for another cup. I took the scenic route
back to the office. The Goddman Parrot shut up as soon as I gave him some
breakfast. Nestled in my chair again, I told Eleanor, "Listen to this and tell
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me what you think." I started where I thought it began, did Black Dragon,
Crask and Sadler, Belinda, Relway, shapeshifters, the Weiders, Marengo North
English, Tama Montezuma.
"So what do you think? Is it all connected? Or have I stumbled into several
things all going on at the same time?" Occasionally it helps to bounce the
facts off Eleanor or the Dead Man even though neither is inclined to respond.
Sometimes the pieces fall into place.
I twisted and kicked and whacked away at the facts with a big faded steel
hammer to conjure the mess into a couple of complete scenarios. I was sure
neither had much to do with reality. Neither made sense of what was happening.
"I prefer the chaos theory," I told Eleanor. "Shit's flying everywhere and
it's by chance a lot is raining down where I'm standing. I'm what ties the
whole mess together . . . Oh. Right. Isn't this exactly what I've been waiting
for?"
Eleanor's smile turned more teasing than enigmatic. She knows how thrilled I
am when somebody pounds on my door.
I don't always hear them, though. The door, replaced often lately, is heavy.
I'm thinking about getting one of those mechanical bells so I can be sure
there's somebody out there to ignore.
59
"Gods, Garrett," Colonel Block growled. "You been on a three-day bender?"
"You're looking good yourself. We saw one another just yesterday. Remember?"
"You really go to hell overnight, don't you?"
Maybe I did look a little ragged. "All right. So maybe I need a shave." I let
Block come inside.
He doesn't come around unless he has something on his mind. "That would be a
start."
"Want a cup of tea?"
The Goddamn Parrot broke off crunching sunflower seeds long enough to
excoriate the head of the Guard, then the head of the household.
"Can I drown that thing in it?"
"I'll brew you a bucket if you'll do it and take the rap. What's up?" I
shepherded him into my office. He helped himself to a chair.
"I wanted you to know what Relway got from the prisoners. And your thoughts
about last night. Relway's devotion colors what he sees."
"It was pretty straightforward." I told him what I knew. Once I would've held
out just because he was the law. I'm mellowing with age and accumulated head
lumps. I concluded, "What I don't have is a clue what it adds up to."
"I find it productive to forget the big question while I root out little
answers."
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"Uhm?"
"Instead of worrying about what it all adds up to, work on why the
shapeshifters chose the Weiders. There are a hundred questions you could ask.
You can paint the big picture one brushstroke at a time." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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