Down These Strange Streets

The newbie did not know about the Dead Man, who reeked of wicked glee. This twitch must be an easy read.

“How come you’re camped on my stoop, little fellow?”

“Uh . . .”

He would be the source of the Dead Man’s unexpected knowledge.

He invested a few seconds in wondering if he should go with the lies he had rehearsed. While he strategized, Singe arranged papers so she could take notes. She was amused.

I don’t care if they lie. The Dead Man can burgle their minds while they’re exercising their capacity for invention.

Our visitor asked, “With whom am I speaking?”

He came without knowing? “Name’s Garrett. The most handsome blueeyed ex-Marine you’re ever likely to meet. This is my place. You sure you got the right one?”

He is, in the sense that he believes this is where he may find the object of his quest.

“Mr. Garrett, I represent the Council of Ryzna.” He spoke Karentine like he had a mouth full of pudding and acorns. Lucky me, I had a partner who could pass on not only what the man wanted me to know but also what he was thinking.

He realized recently that he is mostly under his own supervision. He has developed personal ambitions as a consequence.

Little man clicked his heels and bowed slightly, a habit they have in his part of the world. “Rock Truck, Rose Purple, at your command, sir,” is what I heard. I shrugged. I’d heard stranger names. He made sure I knew his father was a player back in the old country. His family had been exploiting the masses for centuries.

I listened. If the silence lasted long enough he might fill it with something interesting.

“Recide Skedrin came to see you.” He pronounced it Ray-see-day Skaydrene . Very Venageti.

The one who died.

I knew that. I am a trained observer. “I don’t know that name.”

“That does not surprise me. He was no one. Mate on a tramp freight carrier trafficking between TunFaire and Liefmold. A wicked young woman, Ingra Mah, recently deceased, seduced him and persuaded him to smuggle a Ryznan national treasure from Liefmold here for her. She hoped to auction the item on your Hill.”

Well. That would make it a sorcerer’s toy, likely with major oomph. People wouldn’t be dying, elsewise.

He is telling the truth and your reasoning is sound. However, the full story also has a political aspect. The Dead Man added some visuals he had shoplifted.

I’d have to work out the man’s name later. They don’t put them together our way, down south. It sounded like he had done some translating. There might be a job title in there, too.

Little man produced a dagger. He said, “I am going to search . . .”

Singe said, “Really, Mr. Rock. Such bad manners.”

He seemed startled to see her. The Dead Man had blinded him.

I took his dagger, careful not to touch the blade. That bore streaks in several colors, none obviously dried blood.

It went briskly. The Dead Man did not reveal himself. Singe did not leave her desk. Rock squeaked when I put him in a chair. He pouted and massaged his twisted wrist. He had extra water in his eyes.

“We’ll have no more of that. Why are you haunting us?”

“I am here, at the behest of the Council, to recover the Shadow.”

“The Shadow.” You could pick up the capital without a hint from the Dead Man.

“What do you know about Ryzna, Mr. Garrett?”

“It’s a town in Venageta with a nasty reputation.”

“Sir! Ryzna is Venageti by compulsion, only because someone let besiegers into the city under cover of a bright, cloudless noonday sun, whilst all men of substance were . . .” He burbled history more than a century old.

His ancestors were the traitors. The Venageti failed to reward them to their satisfaction. They see an opportunity to turn the tables in the theft of this Shadow.

All right. I never let the fact that I don’t know what’s going on get in the way of getting on with getting on. “What’s this Shadow gimcrack? And why look for it here?”

Any chance there was something in that box after all?

No. This would be something so powerful that any of us would have sensed it. The genuine box is lined with iron, lead, and silver. The Shadow is an aggregation of the souls of Ryzna’s departed sorcerers. Their powers combined, without the personalities. Its importance to Ryzna and Mr. Rock is narrowly envisioned. The universal ambition there is to use it to control Ryzna. The deceased thief, however, realized that it could be a potent tool useful to any sorcerer anywhere.

She must have lacked wizardly talents herself. She would be busy trying to take over the world if she had some.

Exactly. Mr. Rock sees the Shadow as something abidingly dark and strong. He is in love with the potential.

So. To review. A freelance socialist decided to redistribute the wealth by purloining the Shadow of Ryzna. Rock got conscripted to bring it back because he was considered too dumb to see the personal opportunities. He’d been sandbagging. He’d decided that no one deserved to use that toy more than sweet old Rock Truck, Rose Purple, his own self.

Rock wasn’t my kind of guy but he was, for sure, a type I run into a lot.

“The Shadow is . . . No. To you what it is matters not. What does matter is that it belongs to the people of Ryzna and we must have it back. I am prepared to pay four thousand silver nobles for its return.”

That got my attention. And Singe would have grinned if rat people had something to grin with.

I said, “That’s good.” Four thousand would make me a nice dowry.

“That is very good.” Then he went stupid, like I might have forgotten the original thief’s reason for sending her plunder to TunFaire. “The Shadow is no good to anyone outside the Ryzna Council.”

Not even true in Ryzna. The Venageti held Ryzna down with the Shadow until a sloppy guard too young to think with his head let the Ingra woman get to it.

Ingra Mah sounded like a talent. Too bad she let somebody get behind her.

“Let us be exact, Mr. Rock. What do you want? We don’t have your Shadow. But we could look for it. That’s what we do here.”

“Recide brought you a box.”

“It was empty. And he didn’t live long enough to explain.”

The creatures pursuing Mr. Recide were associated with Mr. Rock. There were five, assigned by the Ryzna Council to assist Mr. Rock and to keep him walking the line. They were not responsible for Mr. Recide’s death.

Five. Two hurt. One of those in the hoosegow. Rock’s keepers as well as consorts. Good to know. And the original thief? Was she really dead? Had she been slick enough to break her trail by faking her own demise?

“Oddly enough, I believe you, Mr. Garrett.”

At the same time, Old Bones sent, He believes she is dead. He sent a picture from the little man’s mind.

Ingra Mah had gone the way of Recide Skedrin. Rock had arrived on scene soon after the process began. The Dead Man assured me that, though Rock was a thorough villain and fully capable, he was not responsible.

Truck continued, “Recide and his ship’s master moonlighted as transporters of questionable goods.”

“They were smugglers.”

“Bluntly put, yes.”

“Why come to my house?”

“I can only guess, Mr. Garrett. Either he was directed to do so before he left Liefmold or he made inquiries on arriving and thought you met his requirements. My inquiries suggest that you have important contacts on the Hill. On the other hand—and this is the way I see it—he may just have wanted to lay down a false trail while his ship’s