Текст книги "The Broken Bell"

Автор книги: Frank Tuttle

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“My line of work is a lot simpler.” Mills must have guessed the nature of my thoughts. “Very little ambiguity.”

“Ambiguity pays my bills. Speaking of which. I need to head up to Avalante. I won’t dock you any pay if you decide you’d rather call it a night.”

Mills shrugged. “I’m not worried if you’re not. That pin ever actually turned any halfdead away?”

I thought back to the pair that had killed the little pig herder down on the docks.

“It has. They bow and doff their hats, and then it’s heels and toes and flapping capes.”

He laughed. “I’d like to see that, I think. I’ll come along.”

“We’ll be hoofing it.” A ghost of an idea presented itself. “Or not. Keep a sharp eye out for Army wagons. We might catch a ride after all.”

He lifted an eyebrow, but if he thought I was crazy he kept it to himself.

We set our sights on the tops of the crematorium smokestacks and headed for the Brown.

Evis was right.

I’d flagged down an army tallboy at the corner of Wesson and Grade. It was driven by a sergeant and conveying a pair of sleepy lieutenants.

I only had to say my name once, and Mills and I were welcomed aboard while the pair of lieutenants took to the street with barely a muttered curse and murderous glare.

The sergeant snapped his reins and we were off, headed for Avalante, courtesy of the Army of the Regency.

Mills ogled.

“How in the Hell?”

I shrugged. “Friends in high places. You really don’t want to know more than that.”

He closed his mouth. I turned away before my grin got any wider.

Bridge clowns avoid the black carriages of the halfdead, but they have no such respect for the weathered vehicles of the army. I was glad only a few clowns were present, since they took to throwing broken bricks and chunks of mortar. The driver raced across at breakneck speed, and I was doubly glad we weren’t meeting any traffic.

The driver, it turned out, had never been across the Brown, so he took several wrong turns before we found Avalante. I bade him pull to the curb and wait, and spent a few minutes reassuring him he was safer here in the heart of the halfdead district than he’d ever been in neighborhoods like mine-as long as he remained in uniform and atop an army troop wagon.

Mills and I left him there and made for Avalante’s tall, dark doors. They opened well before we arrived, and we were immediately surrounded by half a dozen pale, fluid figures dressed in Avalante black.

“Good evening, fellows,” I said, smiling. “You know me. This is my associate, Mr. Mills. We’ve come to hear the news from the fishermen.”

They nodded. None spoke. All formed lines flanking the doors, and a single pale hand bade us enter.

I glanced over at Mills. His jaw was set and his fists were clenched. But he managed a grin, and his step never faltered.

Jerle, the day man, was either in his bed or heading that way. A halfdead I’d never met appeared as we stepped over the threshold and guided us silently to a sitting room, then closed the door behind us.

Mills looked about. He chose a seat facing the door. A light sheen of sweat formed on his temple.

“Relax,” I said. “I’m practically House myself. You’re safer here than you are at home.”

He nodded and swallowed.

We didn’t wait long. Our pale friend was back, waving me forward, and asking Mills quietly if he would like refreshments while he waited.

Mills declined. I followed my new friend out, and was glad he closed the door behind me, but didn’t lock it.

“I trust you take no offense,” said the halfdead, when we were out of earshot of the waiting room. “You are known to us. He is not.”

“None at all. I prefer to do this alone, anyway.”

“Good.” We walked through halls as quiet as any tomb. I knew there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of halfdead around me, but they collectively made all the racket of a dropped silk hanky. “We have been in constant contact with the Regency, by the way. The news is promising.”

“So they haven’t blown themselves up yet.”

“Indeed not.” We came to a door flanked by a pair of live guards. My friend rattled off a string of nonsense words, and they stepped aside.

“Come,” said the halfdead. He looked hard at the door, and it swung silently inwards. “Evis is waiting.”

I didn’t have time to show him my famous lifted eyebrow trick, so I just hurried inside.

The room was dark, as halfdead rooms tend to be. So maybe it tricked my eyes into thinking it was larger than it really was. I’ll probably never know the answer to that one.

Ten paces away from us was a massive iron contraption so tall they’d been forced to dig away at the ceiling to accommodate the top of the thing. Ten men could have ringed it around at the bottom, if they were willing to stand right against the thing and really stretch their arms. I wouldn’t do it, though, because it leaked steam in hissing sprays and spat showers of sparks seemingly at random from between whirling sets of gears and cogs.

Furious, tiny lightning-storms played about a series of metal spikes set like a crown atop the thing. The smell was the same fresh clean smell you get after bad storms. The thunder was miniature, but constant.

A small crew of mixed day folk and halfdead rushed around the device, putting out fires with blackened, damp blankets or shoving odd-looking metal tools into gaps in the mechanism. They communicated in curses and brief exchanges of jargon that were no more intelligible than ogre or Troll.

“Are we ready?” said my guide, over the noise.

A harried human with burn marks over his thick canvas shirt turned to face us.

“We’re having trouble with the coolant, sir. Keeping it short would be advisable.”

My guide nodded. “Understood.” He pointed me toward a desk-like affair, upon which a shiny copper funnel rested, the wide end facing the chair. “Sit there. Speak slowly and clearly. You may expect a minute, perhaps less, before we lose the Regency.”

I sat. Mama Markhat didn’t raise her kids to pester vampires with stupid questions.

The funnel crackled, hissed and then it spoke.

“Hiya, Markhat,” came a voice. Evis’s voice.

“Hello, boss.” That was Gertriss. “Everything is fine here.”

I cleared my throat. The whole room was watching me, and the day folk were trying to hide their grins.

“Evis. Miss. And Buttercup-are you there too, honey?”

A high-pitched giggle sounded from the funnel.

“So. Another miracle of arcane science. Beats carrier pigeons, I suppose.”

“Not really. Fails all the time. Surprised it’s working now. But I wanted to talk to you more or less in person, Markhat. We’re making much better speed than I thought. We’re going to make the bluffs in plenty of time. Ahead of schedule, even.”

“As long as the barges don’t hit a log.”

“Always the ray of sunshine, Markhat. Listen. Your partner is worried-had any more visitors from her old hometown?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I briefed her on Mama’s last letter. I didn’t mention Mills. The last thing I needed was a lifetime of chiding from Evis about hiring bodyguards every time he left town.

Evis spoke again as I wrapped up Mama’s exploits in Pot Lockney.

“By the way. If you see our mutual friends, please tell them thanks for me.”

“Thanks for what?”

“They’ll know. Oh. Are you keeping your sword handy?”

“Got it right here,” I lied.

“Don’t be an ass. Arm yourself.” The funnel issued a loud screech, and a fresh shower of blue sparks erupted from the top of the clanking ironwork in the center of the room.

Men and halfdead rushed about shouting. Buckets of a white powder were thrown wherever flames began to dance. My halfdead guide took my elbow and gently hustled me out of the room.

“Pigeons seldom burst into flames,” I noted as he shut the door firmly behind us.

He nodded. “I shall pass your observation on to the House. Is there anything else we can do for you tonight, Mr. Markhat?”

“Not a thing,” I said.

He raised the ghost of an eyebrow. “Surely you do not intend to walk back to your office?”

“The night air is invigorating.”

“I shall arrange for a carriage to meet you on the street. You may of course keep it for the night, if you wish.”

“I don’t want to abuse your generosity.”

He nearly smiled.

“We are allies. Evis has left instructions that you be assisted in any way possible. I shall make the arrangements.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded, and another halfdead appeared at my side, and soon I was back at the sitting room with Mills.

“All done?” he asked.

“For now. We’ve got a ride. I’ll drop you back at your place.”

He nodded. “You have the most interesting friends.”

“That I do.” I thought back to Evis’s admonition that I keep Toadsticker handy. “That I do.”

Chapter Sixteen

The ride back to Mills’s place was silent.

He snoozed. I pondered. Evis had gone to a lot of trouble to hold a brief conversation, which meant it must have been important.

Mention of our mutual friend meant Hisvin, of course. And asking me to convey his thanks was Evis’s way of letting me know he had something brewing with the Corpsemaster-something so private he didn’t want it spoken, even in Avalante.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d told me to keep Toadsticker handy.

My sword was a gift from Evis himself, last year. Its steel holds a charm against the halfdead.

Which makes his mention of my need of it doubly worrisome.

Trouble among the Houses? Trouble within Avalante itself?

Or perhaps one of the other dark Houses had decided to throw in with the invaders from Prince.

Which would make Evis and I prime targets for all sorts of unpleasantness.

I cussed. Mills stirred. I was going to keep Toadsticker handy, all right. To the point of bathing and sleeping with the hilt in my hand.

I dropped Mills off in front of his flophouse. He yawned and waved and vanished in the shadows.

My driver thumped the roof, wondering where to go next.

“Cambrit,” I said. “Take a couple extra turns. Make it a long trip.”

“You got it.”

I settled back, shut the curtain and sat in the dark all the way there.

I managed to get in and out of my office without suffering a beating. When I emerged, I carried a bag stuffed with clothes and shoes and shaving gear, and Toadsticker was on my belt.

Hillbillies under a hex I could risk. Halfdead with murder on their minds was another matter entirely. My door was built to keep out drafts and rain, not monsters.

I knew I could bunk at Avalante, if I wanted. And the idea did hold some appeal. But it would be hard to work a case from a walnut-paneled guest room, and I did have a case to work.

I bade my driver to just take turns at random while I tried to put together a plan. I’d have to sleep at some point. I’d need a place to change clothes. Darla’s was out, since the last thing I wanted to do was drag her into trouble involving the Houses. Ditto for just picking the lock on Mama’s door and sleeping there.

I’d need a hotel, then, until this mess was over or Prince’s cannons loosed damnation on the walls.

I sighed as I felt my pockets grow lighter yet again.

But I was in no hurry. I gave the cabbie Mary’s address, and on a whim included Lethway’s office building, and told him to take the most circuitous route he could imagine.

He did a good job of it. I watched the windows and the darkened, empty streets. If anyone was following us, they were doing it on foot, and if they were following us on foot they were quite the runner, because we kept a breakneck pace the whole way.

Of course, a couple of halfdead could pace us without breathing hard, but it doesn’t pay to entertain such pessimism when there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.

We passed by Lethway’s dark office building just as the Big Bell pounded out Curfew. At first glance, it appeared to be deserted, shut up for the night, but then I saw a bit of light under the blinds, and I realized the windows were shuttered and closed-not truly dark.

And then there were the three carriages parked out front. Their teams were steaming with fresh sweat in the glow of the street lamp. So there were people inside, doing whatever it is mining outfits do in the wee hours when the rest of Rannit sleeps.

From there we made for Mary’s neighborhood, finally reaching it an hour later. I liked the street immediately, even in the dark. There was a cheerful, wholesome quality to it, even though the homes were small and could have used a bit of paint and some new shingles here and there.

Mary’s house showed light in all the windows. I had the driver take us by slowly while I opened the window and listened.

I heard a snatch of laughter that was not Darla, but was female and untroubled. I was about to tell the driver to head out when the unmistakable yapping of Mr. Tibbles sounded from within Mary’s house.

I called us to a halt. The yapping of a tiny dog rang out loud and clear.

And if Mr. Tibbles was yapping away in Mary’s house, then Tamar wasn’t far away.

I cussed and told the driver to wait and did my best to hide Toadsticker under my coat as I made for Mary’s door.

Her porch light flared as I cleared the last five porch steps. Darla met me at her door. From the laughing and talking in the background, I didn’t think anyone but Darla even knew they had a visitor.

She lifted a finger to her lips,

“I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you,” she said. “Tamar is here.”

“I heard Mr. Tibbles.” I forced away my scowl. It wasn’t Darla I was angry with. “Half of Rannit can hear Mr. Tibbles. Why isn’t she hiding?”

Darla grabbed my arm and hauled me inside. A kiss may have taken place. There were no witnesses to the event.

“She got spooked, hon. She swore somebody was watching her. So she sneaked out and went to my house.”

“But you weren’t there.”

“No. But she knew I’d only be one of two other places.”

“So she spent the evening gallivanting around Rannit. Carrying a tiny barking dog, just to make sure everyone everywhere noticed her. Brilliant. Wonderful.”

Darla hugged me tight.

“I know. But she was afraid. She’s here and she’s safe.”

“Nobody here is safe as long as she’s here.” I managed to peek out the door. The street was still empty and quiet. “This isn’t good, Darla. It isn’t good at all.”

Tamar and Mary came rushing into the room. At the sight of me, Mary squealed and charged back the other way, and Tamar and Darla laughed.

“You’ve seen her in her nightgown,” said Tamar. Mr. Tibbles yapped at me from the crook of her elbow. “Good thing Darla is here, or you’d have to marry her, you know.”

“Miss Fields.” I took off my hat and hung it on a hook by the door. “It’s a good thing Darla is here for you, too, or I’d be forced to raise my voice. What made you think charging around town after dark was a good idea?”

She didn’t flinch. “I was being watched, Mr. Markhat. I’m sure of it. So I wrapped Mr. Tibbles in a towel and I stole a maid’s wrap and I sneaked down to the kitchen and then I walked out with a bag of trash, and I’m not sorry.”

Mr. Tibbles indicated his agreement by baring his teeth and growling.

I sighed and pulled one of Mary’s kitchen chairs around and sat on it.

“Tell me why you think you were being watched.”

“I peeped through the curtains sometimes. The same man was on the same corner all afternoon. He didn’t even move to the shade when the sun got hot. I know all of Daddy’s men, Mr. Markhat, and the man I saw wasn’t one of them. I left everything in my room. If they go in they might think I’m still somewhere in the hotel. Was that a smart thing to do, Mr. Markhat?”

I nodded. It was, actually. People seldom just walk away from their things, even when clinging to them puts them in peril.

“Still. You took an awful risk. Why didn’t you go home?”

“Because Father would have just sent me back there, Mr. Markhat. Or to another hotel. I’m tired of hiding. My wedding is just days away. Now then. Have you found Carris yet?”

Darla hid a grin.

“I’m close,” I said. “After tomorrow night, I hope to know who has him, or at least know more about them.”

Tamar nodded but did not smile.

“The caterers have been paid in full,” she said. “They need to know when to start icing the cake.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Darla shot me a look. “But you can’t stay here that long.”

“Mary said I could stay as long as I want.”

“Tamar, dear,” purred Darla. “He’s gruff, but he knows his business. I’m sure Markhat knows a better hiding place.”

“I do indeed. But moving her tonight isn’t the best way to handle things. We need crowds to hide in. Too, my Avalante carriage isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

Tamar beamed and scratched Mr. Tibbles behind his scruffy little ears. “Did you hear that, Mr. Tibbles? We’re spending the night with Mary.”

“Are all the doors locked?”

Darla nodded. “Doors and windows.”

“Good.” I rose. “Lock this one after me.”

She frowned. “You’re leaving?”

“Only to send my driver home. I’ll be right back. Does Mary have a fireplace?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Then she has a fireplace poker. Keep it handy.” I kissed her on the nose and peeked through the door glass and then opened it quickly and waited there until I heard the locks click.

I asked my driver to ride around Rannit for a couple of hours before heading home. If anyone was keeping an eye out for finders in borrowed black carriages, that ought to prove amusing.

Then I headed back to Mary’s cheery little bungalow, my hand on Toadsticker’s hilt. I got indoors without incident, and I placed a straight-backed wooden chair across from the front door and angled it so I could see the room behind me.

Mary has a fancy brass clock on the mantel above her fireplace. It ticked and tocked the whole night long, while I watched windows and doors and fought off sleep by holding Toadsticker out level with my chest and balancing a glass on his blade whenever I felt the urge to doze.

Darla hadn’t asked where I intended to take Tamar. I still wasn’t sure. A hotel downtown, under an assumed name, I decided. With Mills idling in the lobby and keeping an eye on the stairs. I could hit up Fields for reimbursement later, and it was only then that I realized I no longer trusted the baker enough to tell him where I was hiding his daughter.

The brass clock struck out the third small hour when Darla emerged, wrapped in a blanket, sleep in her eyes. She curled up on the floor next to me and wordlessly went to sleep, her hand in mine.

Darla is beautiful, by the way. Far too beautiful to be walking out with a rogue such as I. But here she was, at my side.

Evis’s admonition to keep Toadsticker handy ran hobnailed through my mind. Hell, I was putting her at risk every day. If halfdead weren’t out there lurking, the kidnappers might be.

All because of me.

She opened her eyes for a moment and looked up at me and smiled and then fell fast asleep. In that brief moment, it appeared as if she was about to speak.

I listened to the wind outside, and I wondered until sunrise just what it was she might have said.

Mary appeared, clad in a high-necked dressing gown that concealed her so completely I would have been hard-pressed to identify her species, much less her gender. She shooed me into a corner and set about bringing her kitchen to life.

Bacon fried. Biscuits baked. Eggs scrambled. Toast toasted. Coffee perked, making wet sputtering noises that roused the rest of the ladies.

I was elected to take Mr. Tibbles for his morning constitutional. He appeared to be no more thrilled with the task than I, but apart from pulling at his leash and trying to hike his leg on my right boot, he behaved well enough.

I never left Mary’s yard. I did scandalize the neighborhood by waving to her sleepy-eyed neighbors and introducing myself as her beau until Darla dragged me back inside.

Tamar and Mary were already seated and dining. Two plates waited for Darla and I.

“Good morning, Mr. Markhat. Did Mr. Tibbles behave himself?”

“He was a model of decorum, Miss.”

“Are you still angry with me for leaving the hotel?”

“Furious, Miss. But I believe in letting bygones be bygones.” I munched on some sausage and swallowed. “You know you can’t stay here, though.”

“She can stay as long as she kens ta,” said Mary. “’Tis my house, and my say.”

“But she kens to go with me,” I replied. “Because if she doesn’t, I’ll do one of two things. One, I’ll just head downtown and tell her father where she is, and he’ll be along to fetch her and none too happy about it. Or two, I’ll put her over my shoulder and carry her out.”

Mary laughed. “Aye, I reckon ye would at that.” She topped off my coffee cup with a bitter black brew as strong as anything I ever drank in the army.

“Mr. Tibbles wouldn’t like that,” said Tamar. “Neither would I. But would you really? Men are always saying things they really don’t mean, just because everyone thinks they do.”

“He means it,” said Darla. “And he’s right. There are safer places. Places only a finder would think of. Isn’t that right, dear?”

She caught me with a mouthful of scrambled eggs, so I just nodded.

Tamar sighed. “Well. If you think it’s a good idea, then…all right. We’ll go.” Her face took on a sudden expression of genuine concern. “You aren’t about to tell me I have to leave Mr. Tibbles behind, are you? Because I won’t. I simply won’t.”

I swallowed. “No. Never. He goes where you go. That’s a promise, Miss. Me to you.”

She beamed. “I knew you wouldn’t really go and fetch Father. You’re not that kind of man.”

“Thanks. I think.” I drained my cup and wiped crumbs off my chin with one of Mary’s embroidered white napkins. “Finish up, ladies. We’ll be leaving soon. I’m going to go sit on the porch and see if anyone takes notice.”

“Where are we going?” asked Tamar. “Is it a secret place? Somewhere forbidding and mysterious? Will I need a hat with lace, or a veil? I have both. You never know which you’ll need, so I brought one of each.”

I dived in when she paused for breath.

“A veil, then. Mary, thank you for breakfast, and your hospitality.”

“Aye.” She shoved a paper bag of biscuits toward me. “Ye might be wantin’ them for later.”

I took the bag and headed for the porch. Darla followed me out while Tamar shoved bits of bacon toward an anxious Mr. Tibbles.

“So, have you decided where to stash Tamar, dearest?”

“Of course I have. All part of an intricate scheme I formulated long ago.”

Darla laughed. “In other words, you’re making this up as you go.”

“I prefer to think I’m acting with situational awareness in a fluid event dynamic.”

“You’re already talking like a general.”

We kissed at that point. A passing cabbie shouted his approval.

“You’re going to work?”

“As long as we have clients, and we do. Not everyone has headed for the hills.”

“Good for them.” I brushed her hair back, and a vagrant breeze pushed it right back on her forehead. “I’ll stop by before the store closes.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Had you rather I not?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s the way you said it. You’ve got something going on after Curfew tonight, don’t you?”

I did indeed. A meeting with Lethway, who’d tried to murder me when last we sat down to fancy cigars and light conversation.

“Nothing terribly dangerous. And I won’t be alone.”

She grabbed me and shivered.

Tamar barged out, bag in her right hand and a squirming Mr. Tibbles in her left.

“We’re ready to go,” she said. Mr. Tibbles yapped his assent. “Isn’t this exciting? Is Darla coming too? I wore the veil. I can put Mr. Tibbles in the bag when we get there. You won’t mind, will you, Mr. Tibbles?”

Darla laughed softly and let me go.

“Be careful,” she said, and then she was off.

I darted out to hail a cab.

There’s a trick to hiding young women in fancy hotels. If you ever need to do so, never mind the reason, there’s a right way to do it, and a wrong way.

The wrong way seems the best way to honest folk. They think that by slipping furtively into the hotel and speaking in hushed tones to the desk clerk and paying in cash and calling yourself Mr. Smith you’ll simply sink down into a blessed state of total obscurity.

That’s why honest people are so easy to find.

Taking the sneaky approach just brands you as one of two things, in the minds of hotel staff. You’re either sneaking around on your spouse or you’re hiding from someone. So when inquisitive sorts start asking questions and perhaps handing out coins to the talkative, the hiding place is revealed as surely as if a giant hand reached down and ripped off the roof.

That’s the wrong way.

The right way?

Tamar rushed into the hotel lobby a dozen steps ahead of me. The pillow she’d placed under her blouse did a credible job of simulating the middle stage of pregnancy. She let me get in the door and take a single step before she turned on me and let loose a stream of loud, heartfelt invective that turned the heads of everyone in the lobby.

Once all eyes were upon us, she took off her wedding ring, which was actually a bauble purchased moments ago from a shady street jeweler for a couple of coppers, and flung it at my face.

“I told you if your mother didn’t leave I would,” she screamed, putting just enough screech into it. “I will not spend another hour under the same roof as that mean-spirited old warthog!”

“Honey,” I said, raising my arms in surrender. “It’s just another week-”

“You said that last week. And the week before.”

Right on cue, Flowers rushed in, freshly scrubbed and wearing the first new shirt he’d ever seen, much less worn. I didn’t trust his accent or his diction, so I’d told him to keep his mouth shut, and he did.

“Come, Reginald,” said Tamar to Flowers. “See? He can’t stand your mother either. Now pay the man, and pay him enough to keep me here until you remove that awful woman from my house!”

And with that, she turned and stormed up the stairs, Flowers in tow.

The room was suddenly filled with barely-suppressed snickering. I made a heavy sigh and approached the desk clerk, a grinning little man in his early hundreds, with my hands in my pockets.

“Trouble to home, is that it, sir?” he asked.

“Guess you could say that.” I leaned on the counter and lowered my voice to a whisper. The room went as silent as a tomb, as two dozen ears strained to hear something that wasn’t a bit of their business.

“How much for a room for the wife and son, for, let’s say, a week?”

“Might be cheaper to just rent one permanent-like for your mother.”

Laughter rippled through the lobby. The old man cackled.

“Have a heart. How much? I can’t move Mother now. She’s taken to her bed. What am I supposed to do?”

He cackled and named a price. It was a quarter again too much, but I didn’t haggle.

I did tell him my name was Smith, which touched off another round of laughter, and that I’d also want to purchase extra meals for the boy and laundry service for the wife. More coins changed hands. My next sigh was very real.

But it had worked. Anyone sniffing around for word of a single young woman who kept to herself and never left her rooms would be greeted with shrugs and shakes of the head. Tamar was an angry pregnant wife with a son in tow and a milksop for a husband.

And that, my friends, is the right way to hide a woman in plain sight.

I left my curiously estranged wife and headed for Granny Knot’s humble abode. Granny has a shack off Elfways-not on the trendy shops and eateries end, but on the old end, well removed from the last stop on the high-priced curio and ornate hat trail.

Granny wasn’t home. You’d think finding an aged spook doctor during the day would be simple, but most of the times I’ve knocked at Granny’s door I’ve knocked in vain. I gave up after a time and settled in the shade of her porch and watched her ne’er-do-well neighbors sneak by. Crows cawed and pecked and hopped in the cemetery next door. I didn’t care to know what it was that they worried. Sometimes the gravediggers don’t bother to go the full six feet.

My meeting with Lethway would commence in a few hours. I listened to the crows and planned my wardrobe. I’d don my new tan britches, my good white shirt and the shiny black shoes Darla got me for Armistice Day.

I would have to leave Toadsticker in the carriage. Swords simply aren’t worn in places like the Banner. I could probably get away with a dagger in my boot and brass knuckles in my pocket, but that would be the extent of my weaponry. Of course the whole point of surprising Lethway at the Banner with his mistress was to avoid a fight, but when tempers flare there’s no predicting how events might unfold.

I wondered if Pratt would stay away, and decided he probably wouldn’t. He might keep out of sight, but I was betting he’d be nearby. Since seeing Fields use his magic secret door and returning with the head of the walking stick that had killed Tamar’s would-be kidnapper, I’d realized Pratt was playing his own games. I hoped I wasn’t being used as a stepping-stone to further his own agenda.

A pair of street kids hopped up on Granny’s porch and gave me a pair of underfed hard looks.

“Whatcha doin’, mister?” asked one.

“Got any money?” inquired the other.

Combined, they weighed maybe fifty pounds, with ten of that being dirt, but they took another couple of steps forward. The dirtiest one slipped a hand in a pocket.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Beat it.”

“He asked you a question, mister.”

“I said do you have any money?”

I cussed and stood up and whipped Toadsticker out. They were off the porch and well into the street before my knees stopped popping.

Granny Knot herself startled me by cackling.

“I seen you, Bobby Doris,” she shrieked. “I knows where your granny walks.”

The urchins doubled their speed. Granny cackled again, shifted her paper-wrapped parcel in her hand, and fumbled for her keys.

“Wonderful to see you, Mr. Markhat,” she whispered with a wink. “I trust you are well?”

I grinned and nodded and put out my hands. Helping old ladies with bags is just another of my many sterling qualities.

“Don’t you be steppin’ on them bees,” she shouted for the benefit of a couple walking past. “I got ham in all my hats. Ham and windows, so the ghosts can see out.”

We stepped inside, and she slammed the door behind her.

“Ham? Hats with windows?”

Granny shrugged. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to babble inanities all day long, Mr. Markhat? I was rather proud of that one. It was both original and intriguing.”

She walked into her cramped kitchen as she spoke, so I followed.