Gilded Latten Bones

central hallway. It hadn't been used much before Singe cleaned it up and made it our bureaucratic headquarters.

'What happened to the pixies?'

'Melondie Kadare died.'

'They don't live long but she wasn't that old.'

'She got run over by an oxcart. She was drunk. She flew into something, bonked her head, fell down in the street. The wheel got her before anyone could drag her away. Afterward, the colony moved. I will find out where if it matters.'

'It doesn't. Not right now.' I settled into a chair. She had gotten some comfortable furniture in. I considered her.

Pular Singe was a ratgirl, a touch over five feet tall when she stood as upright as she could. Her sort-there are several species of ratpeople-were created by experimenting sorcerers several hundred years ago. The majority aren't very bright. They subsist at the lowest social level, doing the meanest jobs.

Singe is a freak among freaks.

She's a freak because she's a genius-not just among her own kind. She's brighter and more clever than most humans, too. So, a freak.

She scares people. Sometimes she scares me.

I adopted her, more or less, while working with her, when I realized that a dramatically fine mind would go to waste if she remained in the paws of the villainous ratmen exploiting her then. She'd been an early adolescent at the time.

Dean Creech, ancient live-in cook and housekeeper, arrived with a tray bearing tea, cups, and sandwiches. He had been generous constructing the latter. He said only, 'You're looking fit.'

'More exercise and less beer. It's hell.' He headed back to the kitchen. I noted, 'He's moving slower.'

'We all are. What's the trouble?'

Singe knew I wouldn't be home if there wasn't something. That stirred her resentment. She didn't really like me walking in like I owned the place now that she was running it. But, more deeply, she did not like Tinnie telling me who my friends were and when I could see them.

I explained what had happened to me and what Belinda said had happened to Morley.

'Is there a connection?'

I shrugged. 'Not logically.'

'But you have no faith in the power of coincidence.'

'True.'

'First thing we will need to do is get Morley moved in here.'

That hadn't occurred to me. I did see her reasoning. There couldn't be a safer place to stash him.

'Belinda says he's too badly hurt to move.'

'You will be with him. You will know when he can take it.'

I nodded.

She stared into nothing briefly, then said, 'I am considering knocking out the wall between this room and your old office. Any objections?'

'Only emotionally. There are a few thousand memories haunting that room.' It was the smallest in the house. I used to describe it as a broom closet with delusions.

'We will be too busy to have workmen in, anyway. The Dead Man is asleep. If you were hoping to consult him.'

'I figured. He hasn't been harassing me.' I surveyed some shelving she'd had installed. 'That's a lot of books.'

'Some days I do not have much else to do. The only call for trackers anymore comes from the Guard. They have grown so effective with their law-and-order scam that they have people turning themselves in after they have reflected on whatever seemed like a good idea after a half dozen pints. The penalties are less painful. I do some bookkeeping for Humility. I manage his investments. And yours. I study. And that is it.'

I had investments? How come I didn't know about that?

Because I would have spent the money instead of investing it.

Another female doing my thinking for me.

'You are doing well with your investments.'

'Especially Amalgamated?' I had a small percentage but never considered it an investment. I hadn't put money in, just me.

'Especially. But I put some of your cash into other things. You will continue to have an income stream if Amalgamated comes apart.'

I wasn't paying attention. I mostly saw a ratgirl when I was with her. I didn't look for signs that she might be making sure I'd be all right if Tinnie, Amalgamated, and I had a falling out. I would get it later, though.

'I see.' We had begun talking about stuff that didn't require us to confess how much we missed each other.

Dean came back. He brought his own tea and cookies. He took an empty chair. 'Are you back, Mr. Garrett?'

8

I wandered around the house, cataloging changes and remembering some whens. The changes consisted of paint, new wall finishes, and new furniture.

I lugged a big mug of beer. There was a supply.

I had thought there would be. Singe was a fan.

'You haven't been bringing guests in?'

'No one but my brother, some workmen, and the Dead Man's students. Humility only comes on business since I stopped his beer privileges.'

Her brother, real name Pound Humility but known on the street as John Stretch, was chieftain of the biggest ratman gang in the city. He was of a different litter so they shared only the same mother, but their relationship was surprisingly tight.

Singe said, 'He just could not help being a rat. He took advantage.'

'Don't piss him off. He's a handy guy to know.'

'Garrett.'

'I'm sorry. I can't help fussing.'

'And yet you resent it so much when people do it to you.'

I shrugged. Being consistent is a sign of a narrow mind.

That was the moment we first stepped into the chill of the Dead Man's room.

One small candle burned in a sconce outside the door. It didn't cast much light when I took it in. It wasn't there for that. It was meant to fire lamps when His Nibs had people in who needed the comfort of the light.

I raised the candle high. The Dead Man was right where I'd left him. Where he had been since I bought the house, seated in a massive wooden chair, looking like a badly rendered idol featuring an anthropomorphic elephant god. I said, 'Cold in here.'

'Yes.'

'Really cold in here.'

She explained the mix of spells, leased from the same supplier as those chilling the cold well in the kitchen. 'Kip Prose designed the suite. It does not cost that much. It will make sure he is with us for a lot longer.'

'Kip Prose. Of course. He's into sorcery, now, too?'

'No. He could not make a rock fall down if he had to use magic. He can come up with mathematical models to make spells work more efficiently, though.'

The last contractions had dropped out of her speech. She was talking slower. She had begun to show a little of the ratman lisping accent.