Whispering Nickel Idols Part 47

Harvester Temisk's memoirs, detailed though they were, recorded only the dates when he'd added to his collection. Neither sources nor the name of his specialist provider was mentioned. Nor did I get many opportunities to revisit Temisk's place. Good guys and bad alike kept right on watching it. Teacher and the Sculdytes were gone, but others still had designs on Chodo, his mouthpiece, and his designated heiress.

Finding people and things is what I do. Usually by being hired to, but finding is at the root of the Garrett reputation. After ten days, nineteen of twenty-four bibliophiles had made generous arrangements for recovering their treasures.

The others would come around.

Collectors are that way.

Teacher White stayed with us four days. He left with his mind washed clean and his heart set on a career as a knife sharpener. Playmate accepted him as a part-time apprentice. Play honestly believes there's good in everybody. Excepting maybe me. He'll make a great G.o.dshouter someday. If I don't get him killed.

Old Bones didn't go back to sleep.

His uncharacteristic taste for the real world made me suspicious. Deeply, abidingly suspicious.

81.

I'd just completed the successful reunion of several books with one Senishaw Cyondreh, the past-her-prime spouse of a grimly named habitue of the Hill. The woman had an eye so hungry I'd nearly run for it, shrieking. Once I'd gotten my hands on the ransom. Reward. Finder's fee. If I ever dealt with her again, I'd drag a squadron of eunuch bodyguards along.

I'd peeked inside before I turned the books over. They were what are called pillow books. Blistering. I blushed when we made the exchange.

There was something different about the old homestead. I sensed it when I spotted the odd coach among the abandoned goat carts. Having suffered a similar dyspepsia on occasion recently, I thought about heading on over to Tinnie's place. But I was carrying the take from the pillow book swap.

There are villains out there who can smell smell n.o.ble metals. n.o.ble metals.

I took a glim at the weird coach before I went inside.

It had been fabricated of some silvery metal, then painted wood grain with paint I didn't recognize. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Distraction arose. Silverman, riding a donkey cart and surrounded by younger men afoot, all cast from the same mold, appeared. The youngsters carried cudgels. A Tin Whistle tagged along behind, curious.

"Ah. Garrett," Silverman said, reining in. "I've completed the commission. Executed to a much finer standard than the original specifications. Tough to do even after I determined how the spells were written."

"Why aren't I surprised?"

Silverman straightened his bent back enough to meet my eye. He wasn't accustomed to sarcasm or back talk. He was an artist. And the old man of his clan.

"That forced us a little over on costs."

"Of course it did. So let's you and me just go inside and see what my partner thinks." Old Bones would sort the thief out.

I ended up carrying a heavy sack because two of the young guys were helping Silverman get to the door.

The Dead Man, of course, knew we were coming. Singe opened up as we arrived. "Who's here?" I whispered. In case it was somebody who didn't need to know about Silverman.

"Morley Dotes and a girlfriend."

A s.h.i.+ver hit me. I had no chance to pay attention. Silverman banged into me from behind. I moved on, to the Dead Man's room. Where a shadow of all night falling lay in ambush.

I squeaked in dismay.

A grinning dark elf occupied my my chair, sipping chair, sipping my my tea, while one of his sky-elf ladies occupied another and appeared to be in deep communion with the Dead Man. It wasn't the skinny, almost s.e.xless woman that dismayed me, though. tea, while one of his sky-elf ladies occupied another and appeared to be in deep communion with the Dead Man. It wasn't the skinny, almost s.e.xless woman that dismayed me, though.

My ancient nemesis, Mr. Big, best known as the G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot, was snoozing on her left shoulder.

Please pay Silverman another twelve gold florins.

Rattled, I managed only, "They don't make florins no more. Haven't done since the New Kingdom came in."

Morley saw my horror over the clown bird. He indulged in a grin of delicious enjoyment.

Then give him the current equivalent. Exasperation. They did not change the weights, just the names. Correct They did not change the weights, just the names. Correct?

"Not exactly. They're called sovereigns. The closest."

Pay the man.

"But-"

The workman is worthy of his hire. Silverman is an artist. He took his commission well beyond what I asked of him. He is an intuitive genius. Pay him.

I didn't know if I could. Twelve florins translate to thirteen royal sovereigns.

Singe handled the payout. I couldn't bring myself to face my cashbox. Thirteen sovereigns is more than most people earn in a year. More than some of my acquaintances will come by during their entire ambition-challenged lives.

"Will you stop hyperventilating?" she whispered, smacking me between the eyes with the biggest word she'd ever spoken. "We are quite sound financially. Now."

Her a.s.surances were no help. I glanced at the sleeping parrot. That thing might wake up any second. Which possibility drove me straight out to the kitchen. I tossed off two quick mugs of Weider's Select Dark. Less distressed, I went back to confront my terrors.

My best pal kept right on grinning like a s.h.i.+t-eating dog.

Silverman was just leaving. He told me, "I need a little head start. I'll meet you there."

His boys were lugging the same sacks I'd just helped haul in. He had no trouble getting around under the weight of all that gold.

I wanted to demand, "You're not even gonna keep what we paid for? After he robbed us?" But Old Bones leaped into my head before I could.

Please accompany Mr. Dotes. It is now within our capacity to place a satisfactory capstone on this affair. Morley kept right on smirking. Enjoying watching me antic.i.p.ating the hammer's fall.

I accompanied Mr. Dotes. Leaving the house last, just to make sure the G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot didn't accidentally get left behind.

Garrett. You are forgetting the cats. Take the cats.

I wasn't forgetting anything. It hadn't occurred to me that there was any need to drag a herd of critters along. Why would it?

"Hang on," I told everybody. "I got to get something."

I found the Luck all piled into their traveling bucket, bright-eyed and ready to roll.

Creepy little things. They weren't kittens at all. That was just a disguise.

I took them outside. Their bucket went into Silverman's cart once I caught up. He wasn't wasting any time.

At some point Penny Dreadful, attached herself to the parade. She was careful not to get inside my grabbing radius. I wondered if Tinnie or Belinda was to blame, or if she was still just that untrusting of the world.

Morley followed along behind, he and his friend in the strange metal coach drawn by the two-horse team that caused snickers all along the way.

No one out there seemed interested in us, otherwise. In particular, we were invisible to the city employees loafing around Macunado Street.

Half an hour later I knew where we were headed. Because we were there.

The scaffolding was gone. The bad boys from Ymber had finished their work, doing good despite themselves. The Bledsoe's masonry hadn't been in such good shape for ages.

I eyeballed the brickwork. Even work that hadn't been done last time was now complete. Had the Dead Man gone so far as to compel Deacon Osgood to finish his charity work before letting him go home?

Evidently.

Scary.

Morley dismounted. He announced, "I'm up."

"What?" Morley was... he knew what was going on when I didn't.

Me and my second banana needed to have us one long talk.

By the time I ambled inside, the little s.h.i.+t had his old friend Ellie Jacques, the volunteer, cooing and starry-eyed-right in front of, and without offending, his sky-elf friend.

Silverman knew what was going on, too. He and his boys followed Penny Dreadful into the deep gloom of the hospital, headed for the stairs. Penny, two-handed, bowlegged, hauled the bucket of cats hanging in front of her.

I hustled to catch up.

Chodo and Harvester Temisk occupied a suite. They shared it with Belinda. There were guards outside, Saucerhead's acquaintances Orion and June. I felt my purse being squeezed again. I whimpered softly.

They didn't know who they were protecting. Had they done, the temptation to sell that knowledge would've bitten them good by now. The door was locked from their side with three locks. I could've gotten through those, no problem, given a little time, but not in front of an audience.

Penny Dreadful had a key. So did Mr. June Nicolist. And, to my dismay, Silverman had the third, which he handed to me after he used it.

The system didn't make sense to me.

I was nonplussed about them being hidden practically in plain sight. How did Old Bones and the rest expect this to stay secret?

June Nicolist's key fit the middle lock. That one didn't secure the suite door-it let a small hatch swing open. Communications was possible that way. So how come the prisoners hadn't bribed their guards?

Number one sidekick had him a lot of explaining to do.

Once everyone with a key exercised his or her talent, I said, "June, this would be a good time for you guys to take a break. Mr. Dotes will handle the guard duties while you're away." Mr. Dotes and his harem had caught up. The G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot showed signs of fixing to commence to begin waking up.

Not good.

Comstock and Nicolist had been in their racket awhile. They didn't get miffed by any implied lack of trust. Nicolist said, "We was just changing s.h.i.+fts, anyways. I'll just head on home. Give Orion the key when you leave." Since it had done its job already, I handed it to Comstock now.

The door opened into a tiny foyer. Beyond that lay a sitting room as comfortably appointed as any in Chodo's own mansion. Without windows.

Chodo and Harvester were playing chess. Belinda was nowhere to be seen. The boys looked like they were staging. Like kids interrupted in the middle of mischief suddenly pretending exemplary behavior.

Penny released the Luck. Kittens streaked toward the men, excepting two who peeled off through a doorway to another room.

Silverman didn't seem impressed. Maybe he didn't recognize anybody. He spread out. Tools appeared. His boys started measuring and pounding. They ignored everybody.

Belinda came out. She was unkempt but looked less stressed than I'd ever seen. Penny darted over. They started whispering. Girl talk? Belinda suddenly being the teenager she'd never been, with her little sister?

Morley stuck his head in just long enough to satisfy his curiosity, then made like a sentry.

Chodo was in his wheelchair. He wasn't the breathing corpse Chodo of Whitefield Hall, though. He had strength enough to turn his chair. "Garrett." His voice had no timbre yet. It was a harsh rasp. But he was talking.

"Sir."

"I must thank you."

"Sir?"

"The favors I did you have paid their dividends. I'm not really much less a prisoner now, but my mind has been set free. Thanks to you."

He didn't look at his daughters. They weren't interested in him. Under the current regime, family stress had to be managed through mutual indifference. Enforced company couldn't tear down those walls.

Harvester avoided my eye whenever I glanced his way. I expected a peck of lawyering weasel words. He didn't bother. Probably didn't want his good buddy to hear what I might say back. n.o.body mentioned the outer world. Chodo husked, "Can I ask what they're doing?"

"Sure. But I can't tell you. I don't know. The Dead Man set it up." Silverman's guys were installing little tiny nickel dogs in niches they made in the walls.

My response didn't please Chodo. But his irritation faded even before the extra kitten arrived. The nickel critters were sucking up the dark emotion already. Silverman beckoned Belinda. "You. Come here." Her eyes narrowed. People didn't bark at Belinda Contague. But she did as she was told. "Left hand."

She extended her hand. Silverman snapped a charm bracelet around her wrist. The charms were all tiny dogs in various doggy poses. All right! d.a.m.n it. Jackals. Every one enameled black. Presumably to prevent cold burns. "Hold still."

Belinda frowned but did as she was told. Silverman snapped a black choker around her throat. It boasted a half dozen squares of what looked like obsidian, each with a nickel critter inside. Done, Silverman turned to Chodo. Chodo would have indulged in a good old-fas.h.i.+oned s.h.i.+t fit if he could have. But Silverman was stronger than he was.

He didn't get a choker. He got bands on both wrists and a neck chain on which an enameled dog pendant hung under his s.h.i.+rt.

Harvester Temisk got one around his right ankle and one on his left wrist. And a pendant to match his best buddy's.

"And that takes care of that," Silverman said. "I have a few extra pendants, any of you others suffer from mood swings."

I volunteered to pa.s.s. As did Penny. I did think it could be useful to make tons of this kind of jewelry, though-if it really sucked the crazy out of people.