52

The Dead Man ran me into the ground for days. I got to do all the legwork Block’s men were supposed to have done already.

Actually, they had gathered all the relevant records into one room in the Chancery cellar. They just never got around to doing anything with the documents. So I got to winnow and collate—where I could. I had to bring in help with the older documents, which were recorded in the abandoned Odellic alphabet and wouldn’t have been readable anyway because the language has changed so much.

While I goofed off days and spent profligate evenings in the Tenderloin, Block hunted Winchell and tried to avoid public notice. Word was out that he was the man charged with ending the killings. It was also out that he wasn’t having much luck. The scale and scope of the mess were getting exaggerated. The precursors of hysteria filled the air—which made no sense because people get murdered every day, curse or no curse.

I think Block’s mistake was offering a reward for Winchell, despite that being the Dead Man’s idea. That focused attention. Attention got the poor fool working on an ulcer. His buddy Rupert couldn’t shield him from all the high-ranking dolts who just had to explain to him the best way of doing his job. The Prince himself was guilty of forgetting they were after a killer who was a bit out of the ordinary.

“Tell the man,” Block grumbled. “He don’t listen to me.”

“Getting disenchanted?”

“Not yet. But close. I can still realize that he’s got his own problems and that’s why he can’t give us more help. It’s just a tad irritating when he shuts out whatever he doesn’t want to hear, though.”

I shrugged a cynic’s shrug. I had no faith in his prince.

So Block made excuses for him. “He does have enemies, Garrett. Plenty of people think TunFaire is just dandy the way it is now. Mostly they’re people whose fortunes would suffer from an outbreak of law and order.”

“If it isn’t law and order it’ll be an outbreak of something.” The signs were growing stronger. “I ran into some old ladies who want to demolish all the breweries, wineries, and distilleries.”

“That’s going too far.”

“I tried to tell them. I said, ‘There is no civilization without beer. Beer is the lifeblood in the veins of society.’ They wouldn’t listen.”

That put a smile on his face. “Fanatics. What can you do? We get fifty complaints a day about these religious nuts, Mississans, whatever they are.” His grin meant he thought I’d invented the old ladies. I hadn’t. They were working the Chancery steps a few levels above Barking Dog, crowded into a spot nobody else wanted. I wasn’t worried about them. In no rational society would theirs be an idea whose time could come.

I saw a lot of Amato, spending my days at the Chancery. He wasn’t the same Barking Dog. The old fervor had gone. I made a point of catching him on his break. “What’s happening, hey? Something gone wrong?”

“I’m scared.” He didn’t beat around it.

“Scared? You? Barking Dog Amato?”

“Yeah. Me. People haven’t really noticed yet, but they will. You did. Then where’ll I be?”

“What’s the matter? What happened?” Maybe he had somebody persecuting him for real.

“My daughter. Suddenly I’m vulnerable. When I didn’t know about her, nobody could get to me.”

“You’re safe. Hardly anybody knows about her now. We’re not talking.” I sniffed the air. What was that? Aha! Amato wasn’t nearly as aromatic as once he’d been.

“Yeah. I guess. I keep telling myself them what knows is decent folk. Then I get scared of her.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I snuck down to the Tenderloin. I figured she had to hang out around that Hullar’s place sometimes, else how would he know to hire you. Right?” Everybody thinks he’s an investigator. “So I hang out and hang out and finally I get me a look at the gal they call Sas.”

“And?”

“She looked all right.”

“I told you that. She’s got people to look out for her.”

“Now I know about her, there’s no way I can get around meeting her face-to-face. And that scares the shit out of me. What do you say to your kid you ain’t seen since she was this high?”

It would terrify Sas too. When the time came. She didn’t know that he was aware of her existence. I kept debating whether or not to tell Hullar. It would piss him off, but I guessed I’d better. “I understand. But don’t let the stress get you. You may have a valuable mission ahead.”

“Huh?”

“You should get out among the people. Hang around the taverns and sidewalk cafes.” Plotting urban revolution isn’t a poor boy’s hobby. Poor folks stay too busy working to keep body and soul and family together.

Amato shook his head. “I wouldn’t fit in.”

“Sure you would. Get yourself some new clothes. Put in some time getting in touch with today’s popular climate.”

“How come?” Mild suspicion. He still didn’t trust me completely.

“There’s a new spirit afoot. It doesn’t amount to much yet, but it could. You ought to be aware of it.” I thought he could become a real force on the street if he addressed real fears and angers. Lots of people had heard of him. He was a folk hero. People did listen when he stopped talking about himself.

He spoke largely out of imagined pasts now, but there was no reason he couldn’t apply his passion to futures as yet unimagined.