36

Singe and Dean both awaited me on the stoop. The old man came down the steps to help me make the climb.

Winger had been right. A little exercise had loosened me up. But hardly enough. I still moved like somebody twice my age, suffering from rheumatism. I’d begun to worry that the ratmen might have done me some internal damage.

Once I’d eaten and downed a quart of Dean’s medicinal tea, though, I no longer felt like we needed to send for a witch doctor.

With Singe’s help Dean moved a padded chair from the small front room into the Dead Man’s room. I occupied it, prepared to discuss business. Instead, I went to sleep. I stayed that way a long time. When I awakened Dean was there with more food and fresh tea. Singe fluttered about nervously.

We find ourselves facing a disquieting development. Mr. Playmate has disappeared.

“No. I didn’t want to hear that.” I don’t like losing a client. That means I have to work three times as hard. Usually for no pay.

Miss Winger sent word to the effect that he has not yet surfaced. I took the liberty of sending Dean to Mr. Dotes with an appeal that he send a few men to support Miss Winger. This would seem an opportune time for raiders to try scooping up Cypres Prose’s inventions.

“It would, wouldn’t it? And it’s Mrs. Winger. She’s got a husband and a couple of kids she abandoned, somewhere out in the country.”

The good news is, an hour ago a messenger delivered a letter from Reliance. It was a bit formal, stiff, and strained, but he renounced all further interest in Miss Pular.

“Hear that, Singe? You can go outside without worrying about the bad guys . . . ”

Reliance cannot, and does not, guarantee the good behavior of all ratmen, Garrett. Call it a weasel clause if you like, but he did advise us that he is not able to control the actions of some of the younger ratmen. He denounced a certain John Stretch in particular.

“To be expected, I guess. We’re still better off than we were. I can’t imagine too many of those youngsters being crazy enough to want to get the Outfit after their tails.”

The young often cannot connect cause and effect, Garrett. You see stupid behavior on the street every day. It will take only one fool who believes he can outwit Reliance and the Outfit to ruin Miss Pular’s prospects.

“I’m pretty sure Miss Pular is bright enough to outwit any of her kind who might be stupid enough to come after her.”

Indeed.

Singe preened.

But she will have to remain alert and ready for trouble for some time to come. Until the rat tribes acclimate themselves to the new situation. Reliance’s letter is there before you. I asked Dean to leave it when he finished reading it to me.

His mention of the letter was a hint that I should read it. I did so, wondering who had written it. I’d never heard of a ratman who could read or write.

“I’d say this is less than a total victory for Singe.”

That is correct.

Singe asked, “What is wrong?”

“The way Reliance states this, he isn’t just giving up his claims on you, he’s telling us you don’t have any more claims on the community of the ratpeople. He won’t let you.”

Singe thought for a while. Then, “Please explain more. In case I do not understand correctly.”

“He’s exiled you from your people. You know exile?” She nodded. “He’s basically saying that since you won’t play by his rules he isn’t going to let you have anything to do with your own people. I guess you’ll have to decide if that’s a price you’re willing to pay.”

“I have decided already.”

“Are you . . . ?”

“Reliance does not have much longer. And while he does last he cannot be everywhere, keeping me from making contacts I might want. He is too old and too slow. And an enforced exile will compel me to learn my way around the rest of the city more quickly.”

“Wow!” I said.

Yes. Perhaps you should marry her after all. In five years you might be a king.

Old Bones let Singe in on the part where he showed that he was impressed. The rest he sent only to me. One of his poor excuses for a joke.

Garrett. Miss Pular. You will have to pick up Mr. Playmate’s trail at his stable. Track him to wherever his hidden demons have taken him. You might search the boy’s workshop. It is conceivable that Mr. Playmate found something there that led him to believe he could find the boy on his own.

Actually a notion that had occurred to me when first I’d heard that he was still missing.

I said, “Excellent thinking, Old Bones. I see only one problem with the scheme. I’m so beat-up I can hardly move. At my best speed today I can grow a foot-long beard faster than I can make it to the river.”

A difficulty anticipated and overcome. In my communications with Mr. Dotes I arranged for you to be transported wherever Miss Pular’s nose leads her.

“Who’s going to pay for all of this? We’ve got Saucerhead out there somewhere getting gray. We’ve got Singe and Winger working. We’ve got who knows how many of Morley’s gang backing up Winger. Where’s the money coming from? Kayne Prose don’t have a pot to pee in. Her kids don’t seem to be producing. Playmate isn’t much better off than Kayne. Anytime he gets two extra coppers to rub together he gives one of them away.”

You are going to pay for it. As an advance cut out of your share of that lake of gold you see yourself tapping in the future.

“What? Are you digging around in my head again?” There was entirely too much of that stuff going on around here lately.

The outbreak of warfare amongst the pixies prevented me from going off on a rant.

The Goddamn Parrot wanted a part of this action. He started hooting and hollering and cursing the pixies.

I believe your help has arrived.