Bitter Gold Hearts

With you entering a Stormwarden's lair? No. We'll con­sider it after this is done and the break is complete. He had a point. I gave Dean some unnecessary instructions about lock­ing up behind me. Then we left.

______ XLVIII ______

I decided TO make a brief detour to Lettie Faren's. Maybe it was wrong. There are times when ignorance is bliss. The man on the door knew me and knew my presence was considered undesirable, but he made only a token effort to keep us out. Inside, Amber gawked and whis­pered that she wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it. I gawked myself, but not for the same reasons. The place wasn't open for business. Never, to my knowledge, had the house been closed before. Alarmed, I pushed past a barman and a swamper who made half­hearted efforts to stop us. I slammed into the pest hole Lettie calls home.

It only took one look. "Stay out there," I instructed Amber.

The mound of ruin that was Lettie Faren tried to glare with eyes blackened and swollen, and failed. She couldn't strike the spark. What remained was a feeble mask for fear.

I asked, "Chodo's boys?"

She croaked an affirmative.

"You should've told me where to find Donni when you knew, before the hard boys decided they wanted her too."

She just looked at me. Chances were she'd just looked at Chodo's boys too. For a while. She was damned near as tough as she thought.

"I'm working for Raver Styx these days. That's a tight crack to get caught in, between the Stormwarden and the kingpin."

"I didn't have nothing to tell them and I don't got nothing to tell you, Garrett. Bring on the old witch if you want."

"The wicked flee when no man pursueth. I'll wish you a speedy recovery. Good-bye."

As we headed for the exit, Amber asked, "Why didn't you want me to go in there?"

I gave it to her straight. "I'm not the only one looking for Donni Pell. Those other guys beat her up trying to find out where Donni went."

"Bad?"

"Very. They aren't nice people. In fact, I'm about convinced that you're the only nice person anywhere in this mess."

She laughed nervously and said, "You don't know me very well yet." Then, conversationally, "You're not so bad yourself, Garrett."

Perhaps she didn't know me very well yet either.

______XLIX______

The man at the Stormwarden's gate was a stranger. He had a competent, professional look. "How was the vacation in the sunny Cantard?"

It bounced off. "Grim as usual, Mr. Garrett. The Stormwarden is expecting you and is waiting in her audi­ence room. Miss daPena can show you the way."

"Yeah. Thanks. You guys going to do anything for Slauce?"

"Say what?"

"You going in on flowers or anything? I thought I'd kick in if I could. It never would've happened if he hadn't been coming to see me."

"We haven't decided what to do yet. We'll let you know. All right?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When we were out of earshot, Amber said, "See? I told you you weren't all bad."

"A cynical, manipulative gesture meant to incite a sympathetic attitude among the troops."

"Right, Garrett. Whatever you say."

Raver Styx sat alone in the gloom of an unlighted room about the size of the Dead Man's. Her eyes were closed. She was so still and unresponsive I suffered a chill. Had we lost yet another daPena?

No. Those supposedly terrible eyes opened and fixed on me. I saw nothing but a tired and beaten old lady. "Please have a seat, Mr. Garrett." Like a wolfman under a full moon, she began to change. "Amber, I believe you'd do better to isolate yourself here in the house, but if you feel more confident with Mr. Garrett and his associates, you have my blessing," She was becoming the Stormwarden Raver Styx—with a measure of concerned mother. Amber was within reach and my feet were out of the Stormwarden's line of sight. I nudged her ankle. She started, figured it out, said, "Thank you, Mother. I'd feel better with Mr. Garrett, I think. For now."

That wasn't so hard. Often all we need to be civil with one another is the presence of a referee we don't want thinking us fools.

"As you wish. Where would you like to begin, Mr. Garrett?"

"With Domina Dount."

"Willa Dount, Mr. Garrett. Loss of her position and title is a foregone penalty. Let's not extend any false hopes."

"You're the boss. Whatever, I want to do her first. Then your husband. Then the staff—if that appears productive."

"Wouldn't it be a bit trifling?"

"Maybe. But a few trifles are all I need to fill the gaps in the picture I already have."

"I'm tempted to invoke penalties on the lot and let the gods distinguish between the wicked and the merely incompetent."

Sometimes I felt that way about our ruling class. I observed the Dead Man's advice, though, and kept my opinion to myself. "I know what you mean."

"How do you want to work it? In my presence? In Amber's?"