I shoved. Crask shoved back. "Give me a hand, Morley!" The lantern's shutter was all the way open, shining on the ceiling and showing me Morley making points with Belinda by asking if she was all right.

"Of course I'm not all right, you moron!" she snarled. "I'm lucky. They pa.s.sed out before they could torture me much. Help Garrett. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life here, eating raw mice." Her voice was feeble but her will remained unflagging. She was a razor-edged chip off the old Contague flint.

Crask wedged something against the door. We banged into it until my shoulder ached. We moved it a fraction of an inch each time, till Morley was able to weasel through. He muttered continuously. This adventure was playing h.e.l.l with his outfit.

He flung the blockage aside. I stalked out. Belinda clung to my left arm. She had no choice. She had no strength left. She grunted with every step. Crask and Sadler had given her a taste of joys to come.

We hit the moonlight. "What now, dauntless sidekick?" Morley asked. "We don't have a tracker anymore. You should have kissed her. She would've hung around forever."

"I did what I wanted to do. I got Belinda back." It was time to head home. Only, what were the chances I would run into Crask and Sadler in such reduced circ.u.mstances ever again? Less than zip. I grabbed the G.o.ddman Parrot. "Which way did they go, bird?"

His Highness did not deign to speak.

A silent bird wasn't a problem I'd ever expected to face.

I was worried about the Dead Man. I'd heard nothing for too long. He should have been nagging me mercilessly.

He'd shown that he couldn't read shapechangers close up. Maybe they got to him while I was busy at Weider's. If one could pretend to be me long enough to get Dean to open the door...

Morley whispered, "Didn't we decide that Relway would have a man watching?"

"I counted on it when we went in there." Sort of.

"Then wouldn't you guess that Relway will know where those two went?"

Probably, come to think. But would he let me know if I asked? Relway just might discover that he had some use for Crask and Sadler no one else could appreciate. I said, "They'll never be weaker. And you know they never forgive and forget."

Morley patted my arm. "Good to see my wisdom finally taking root. But Belinda is in no shape to chase anybody."

Belinda snapped, "Belinda will keep up! Belinda is in better shape than either of them. And Belinda's got another score to settle." Whereupon her legs melted and she had to grab a handy tombstone. "I don't want to hear a word, Garrett." Her voice didn't waver.

Something stirred out in the darkness. It trailed the faintest whisper of disturbed gra.s.s. It headed the direction Crask and Sadler must have gone. Dotes and I exchanged glances. I asked Belinda, "Where were you headed when they grabbed you? They meant to catch you on your way home, only you-"

"No. They were waiting on the way to your house. Originally. They were really p.i.s.sed off because you didn't take me home. They wanted us both."

"Lucky for both of us I had to work, then. Eh?"

"Yeah? Isn't it?" Belinda didn't sound like she believed that in her heart, though.

"Where were you going?" I asked again.

She hesitated, then admitted, "To The Palms. People from the reception were going to meet there."

"Oh." Neutrally, recalling that she had spoken to Marengo North English in parting and he had seemed surprised. None of my business, though. Except that later the same gentleman had seemed quite unhappy about being at The Palms with his delectable niece. I asked Morley, "You want to take her back to your place?" She would be safe there, if she wanted to be.

"You're not going after them alone?" Morley's tone told me nothing I did would ever surprise him. Maybe because this wouldn't be stupider than anything I'd ever done before.

"I'm not going after them. They're Relway's now." For now.

I was very worried about the Dead Man.

57.

There was no deadly silence in my neighborhood. The night people were out in force and they were busy. Commerce was king. No political dialogue was under way. I exchanged greetings with those I knew. There was no tension in the air. n.o.body seemed interested in my movements. A stroll around the area didn't uncover anyone watching my house.

Even Mrs. Cardonlos was otherwise occupied.

I got a strange feeling as I climbed my steps. Not like something was wrong. No. It was more like something was missing. An emptiness I hadn't felt for years. "What's the story here?" I asked the G.o.ddman Parrot. This close he had no excuse for being out of touch.

The bird was stubborn. He still refused to talk.

"Old Bones?" I tried my key. Miracle of miracles, Dean didn't have any bolts bolted or chains chained. I shoved the door, c.o.c.ked an ear to the silent darkness.

The house didn't feel right.

It was darker than a priest's heart in there. Dean hadn't refilled the feeble lamp we leave burning in the hallway. I hoped he had a fire in the stove so I could light it again. I'm not big on flint and steel, though I manage if I have to. It was way too late to go mooching from the neighbors.

I felt the wall till I found the lamp. I took it and headed for the kitchen, carefully. There was no knowing what Dean would leave lying around.

I completed my pilgrimage without getting hurt.

The stove was warm. I dug in, found some live coals, got a kitchen lamp burning so I could find the oil to fill the hall lamp. Its wick needed tr.i.m.m.i.n.g but I was bone-tired. I would mention it to Dean tomorrow.

Tinnie would be cussing me big-time now, I figured. I ought to start rehearsing my apologies.

Once I had a light I took the G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot to the small front room. He was just aware enough to move to his perch. Maybe he was worn-out, too.

I put the hall lamp in its bracket and shoved into the Dead Man's room. "All right, Chuckles. What's the story? If you've gone to sleep on me I'm gonna..."

He hadn't gone to sleep on me. Not this time. No way.

What he'd done was, he'd gone missing.

For a while I stood there with my mouth open. Then I retrieved the hall lamp and prowled the Dead Man's room like maybe a quarter ton of moth-eaten corpse might have gotten lost amongst the dust bunnies. I faced the unusual and weird as a matter of course but this was beyond comprehension.

The Dead Man was gone? How? He couldn't have gotten up and walked. Nor could Dean have carried him.

There were no signs of a struggle. There would've been had he been abducted.

He was just gone.

Dean was going to get rousted out after all.

No, Dean wasn't.

He didn't respond to my knock. "You awake, Dean? I need to talk." I pushed his door open hoping I didn't get him started cranking.

His room was empty.

It wasn't just untenanted or deserted, it was barren. Not one sc.r.a.p of clothing or stick of furniture remained.

"My G.o.ds! They've eloped!" I didn't imagine Dean. When I imagine people I pick them put together like Tinnie or Nicks or Tama Montezuma.

I pet.i.tioned the air with the intensity of an actor in a pa.s.sion play, "What the h.e.l.l is going on?" A waste of time. I'd asked already and hadn't gotten an answer.

I went back down to the kitchen. A hasty inventory left me baffled. I made something to eat, drew a beer off the keg in the cold well, shuffled around the ground floor balancing food, drink, and lamp while I searched for messages or clues.

I found nothing. Not even a Dear Garrett Dear Garrett note. note.

"h.e.l.l with it," I grumbled. "h.e.l.l with them. h.e.l.l with everybody." I dragged myself up to bed, enumerating the names of everyone who ought to join the infernal pilgrimage.

I don't recall lying down.

58.

I don't recall getting up. My first clear thought surfaced when somebody groaned in pain. A moment later I realized that the groaner was right there in my bedroom and he was making those noises with my dried-out mouth. Then it dawned: The pain was caused by sunburn of the backs of the eyeb.a.l.l.s. I was staring out at a morning where the G.o.ds, or devils, of daylight were putting on one of the great sunshine shows of all time.

It was almost noon. The sun seemed to span half the sky.

That information developed, I tried to reason out why I wanted to stare into that unholy furnace.

The proximate cause made itself apparent instantly. Which is to say that there were hundreds of idiots out there holding another political discussion. Sticks and stones and broken bones.

Hundreds of guys in brown, wearing a variety of rightsist armbands, showing colorful standards and banners, were proclaiming their message with enthusiasm, not only to the fey but to any handy humans who had a foreign look on them or maybe just parted their hair a little strange.

Maybe my mom didn't raise me right after all. I don't quite grasp politics. Despite claims to the contrary substance has no relevance. Apparently conflicts are decided by whoever shouts the loudest and whacks away with the biggest stick.

Why did they keep doing it in Macunado Street? Why couldn't they take it into the countryside? n.o.body but farmers or mammoths or woods elves would be bothered out there. I wanted to grab a big megaphone and yell, "People, we got folks trying to sleep around here!"

I dropped the curtain. After a minute I felt fine. I didn't have a hangover. What did I drink? One beer? Good. Still, maybe I should ease up on the health food for a while.

As I descended to the kitchen I recalled my housemate shortage. I'd have to build my own breakfast. Boy. Life just ain't fair.

The G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot heard me moving around and squawked. He started the thing where he pretends to be a small child begging not to be abused.

He was back to his old self. I'd feed him if I started feeling generous and forgiving. Which could not possibly come anytime but later.

I got some bacon frying and some water heating for tea, then went over the ground floor one last time, hoping I'd find something I was too tired to notice last night. I came up with the same big batch of nothing. No getting around it. Dean and the Dead Man were gone. There was no suggestion of foul play. They'd gotten up and gone because they'd wanted to get up and go.

I sipped tea and nibbled bacon and snacked on halfway stale bread dipped in bacon drippings while I tried to get my mind wrapped around the notion that the Dead Man had moved voluntarily. That would make twice in my lifetime. Last time was when I moved him in here.

Give him another generation and he'd be dancing in the streets.

I glanced at the keg in the cold well. Tempting. But it was too early. And I had work to do.

I shivered. Events had left me a mighty hill to climb.

"Shut up in there!" I barked at Mr. Big, who was singing the marching song of ten thousand verses, each of which begins, "I don't know but I've been told..."

I poured tea, stirred in a spoon of honey, found a m.u.f.fin young enough not to scar the hardwood if I dropped it, migrated to my office. "Good morning, Eleanor."

The lady in the painting smiled enigmatically, bemused by my morning dishabille. She didn't surprise me when she didn't have anything to say.

The G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot was stuck on a verse about ratgirls. It didn't flatter them. He must not have been completely comatose last night.

Me, I thought better of ratgirls since meeting Pular Singe. Hers was an acquaintance worth nurturing.

"So, darling. Did the Dead Man take off so he wouldn't complicate my life now that I'm involved with righsists? Or did he feel unfulfilled and had to find himself and realize his potential?" That was a chuckle. Without continuous nagging Old Bones has the potential of an iceberg. He'll slide downhill if he isn't at the bottom already. If you give him a push.

I finished my m.u.f.fin and tea, went for another cup. I took the scenic route back to the office. The G.o.ddman Parrot shut up as soon as I gave him some breakfast. Nestled in my chair again, I told Eleanor, "Listen to this and tell me what you think." I started where I thought it began, did Black Dragon, Crask and Sadler, Belinda, Relway, shapeshifters, the Weiders, Marengo North English, Tama Montezuma.

"So what do you think? Is it all connected? Or have I stumbled into several things all going on at the same time?" Occasionally it helps to bounce the facts off Eleanor or the Dead Man even though neither is inclined to respond. Sometimes the pieces fall into place.

I twisted and kicked and whacked away at the facts with a big faded steel hammer to conjure the mess into a couple of complete scenarios. I was sure neither had much to do with reality. Neither made sense of what was happening.

"I prefer the chaos theory," I told Eleanor. "s.h.i.t's flying everywhere and it's by chance a lot is raining down where I'm standing. I'm what ties the whole mess together...Oh. Right. Isn't this exactly what I've been waiting for?"

Eleanor's smile turned more teasing than enigmatic. She knows how thrilled I am when somebody pounds on my door.

I don't always hear them, though. The door, replaced often lately, is heavy. I'm thinking about getting one of those mechanical bells so I can be sure there's somebody out there to ignore.

59.

"G.o.ds, Garrett," Colonel Block growled. "You been on a three-day bender?"

"You're looking good yourself. We saw one another just yesterday. Remember?"