The G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot screamed rape. Tinnie screamed fire, presumably on the a.s.sumption that that was more likely to get attention. I yelled, "Be quiet!"

As I climbed out of bed, feeling around for something suitable for bashing undesirable visitors, furniture crashed nearer and nearer the door. Said door opened. For an instant a hunched shape shown in silhouette against a ghostly light from the corridor. Before the door closed I had taken advantage of that light to navigate past two pieces of furniture that would have ambushed me otherwise because they did not seem to be where I remembered them. A third piece, more patient than the others, waited till the door closed to move into position.

The impact of plunging headfirst into a wall-even with my arms thrown forward to absorb it-was enough to leave me groggy and seeing double. Which I was doing when I opened the door and leaned out cautiously.

My night visitor was moving away fast, vaguely illuminated by a weak lantern trailing from her left hand. Her? The figure looked something like Tama, and also a little like the herd boy Tollie, yet distorted. Perhaps by the crack taken by my noggin. So maybe the sweet thing had considered offering some special hospitality and been panicked by hearing Tinnie speak as she was sneaking up on me. Maybe. It could happen.

I could not think of a reason why the kid would want to sneak in on me. Unless he thought he was entering Tinnie's room.

Whichever, how come the wannabe visitor's other hand was hanging on to a hatchet or cleaver or some such large, heavy, sharp piece of metal?

"Who was it?" Tinnie whispered from behind me.

"I don't know."

"I'll bet I can guess."

"No doubt you can. To the bleakest possibility. And make it all my fault."

"Hey, that's your place, lover. In the wrong. You think we should barricade the door? Just in case?"

"I think we should barricade the door." If what I thought I saw was real, that was one nasty piece of iron. "Just in case. But you'd better hope they don't hold bed check over to your room."

"I sleepwalk."

Right. We moved some furniture. Then we went back to bed. Then, somehow, I got distracted and ended up falling asleep before I had a chance to spend any time figuring out what had just happened.

76.

If Tama Montezuma knew anything about or had had anything to do with or had any feelings about the previous night's events, she gave no sign at breakfast. "Good morning, Garrett. I would've wakened you earlier but Tinnie told me you haven't been getting much sleep lately."

d.a.m.n! I never warned Tinnie. But she was all right so it didn't matter.

"He seldom gets up before the crack of noon, anyway," Tinnie said. "This's way early for him."

"Hey!" I protested. Then, "Never mind. Tama, Tinnie tells me you've had word that Marengo is headed home."

"A messenger came a few hours ago. Said Marengo is on his way. And that he won't be in a good mood." For just an instant her eyes seemed shifty, evasive, troubled. "Last night didn't work out for him."

"How come he left you here?" I had been thinking about that and, not being a major aficionado of Marengo North English, had developed some suspicions concerning Marengo and his interest in female persons who were not his wife or niece. I refused to believe that North English was so devoted to his convictions that he had gone off to help bully TunFaire's nonhuman population.

"A dangerous level of confrontation was antic.i.p.ated." That sounded like a quote from Marengo. "But before you jump to any conclusions, I chose to remain here." And that sounded like the truest thing she had said for a while.

I glanced at Tinnie. Her thoughts had taken her elsewhere.

I hadn't seen anything yesterday to suggest that something dramatic was going happen. On the other hand, I had spent the whole day distracted. Tinnie's presence seldom left me with attention to spare.

Still, you tend not to overlook big gangs of guys all dressed in brown marching back and forth singing and busting heads wherever they find somebody not dressed in brown and marching and singing their favorite songs.

I didn't pursue my question. Tama volunteered, "He said it would be too dangerous." Her mask of control had begun to show cracks.

The missing mob began returning.

First to appear were a dozen freecorps types who roared through the house demanding food. They were ragged. I observed, "The other guys must really look bad." Slings and head bandages were plentiful. Smiles and laughter were not.

Maybe the other guys never got their hands dirty.

Rightsists kept turning up, alone, in pairs, in small bands. Many were injured. The mood was grim. I suspected some wouldn't return at all.

They paid me no attention. They even ignored Tinnie.

"What's with those guys?" I asked Tama, back in the library at last. She'd spent some time helping feed them. "They don't act human."

"They got their b.u.t.ts kicked. Their big show turned on them."

d.a.m.n! TunFaire had long dreaded some huge demonstration by The Call. And I missed it. Out of town. Gone fishing.

Was I lucky, or what?

"How come they don't notice you or Tinnie? None of those guys is over a hundred."

"Marengo is inflexible when it comes to what he considers correct behavior. He has made it clear he considers correct behavior a hallmark of the superior being. These men are all superior beings. Therefore, they must conform to the highest standards. Your friend and I are spoken for. It would be incorrect behavior for them to surrender to their natural inclinations. They must show themselves to be the superior creatures they claim to be. Marengo insists. And Marengo pays the bills." Tama said every word with a face so straight you knew she wanted to explode in giggles. She whispered, "I'll tell you a secret, though. When they're in the city, surrounded by persons of other stations and Other Races, they act their ages and cla.s.ses."

"You can take the boy out of life but you can't take the life out of the boy."

"I'll bet you know what you're talking about, too. Tut-tut."

I had tried to talk to several men, in pa.s.sing. I'd gotten nothing but grunts and scowls for my trouble. It didn't seem politic to press. "Did they get into it with centaurs?"

"Centaurs?" Tama seemed startled. She recovered quickly. "I don't think so. It just seems all the Other Races were ready to fight. The rioting grew bad enough that troops were sent in, some places."

Bet that didn't do much good. Short-timers who thought just like The Call weren't going to be fanatics about defending non-humans. Their real mission would be to ensure the sanct.i.ty of the property of wealthy friends of The Call, anyway, probably.

Call me cynical.

The Call's strategy was no secret. They'd been pursuing it on a small scale for weeks. They wanted to terrorize nonhumans and destroy their property so they would flee TunFaire. Last night's riots would've been intended to become so intense and widespread that the Crown could do nothing but let them run their course.

The Inner Council of The Call had expected the night to be a watershed. They'd counted on the fire of human resentment to flare out of control everywhere.

It hadn't happened. They'd gotten limited support and unlimited resistance.

The fire had blown back into their faces. The most militant nonhumans had been ready for them. Somebody had snitched on The Call.

It wasn't an ignominious defeat, though. It was just an acute embarra.s.sment.

77.

Tinnie and I-ever chaperoned by Tama-worked out a system for identifying and reviewing books of potential interest. She sorted and identified. I read. Nothing turned up quickly. I fell behind Tinnie, normally an intriguing place to be.

She asked, "All right if I start a separate pile for stuff that's not in Karentine?"

"I guess." We'd need translators, too? I sneezed. "Wish we could do something about this dust."

The door opened. "Miss Montezuma? Are you?...Ah. There you are." The speaker was an old man with a bad artificial leg. His trip to town must have been h.e.l.l. "The chief is expected soon. He's probably wounded."

"Probably?" Tama was moving already.

"Reports vary. Sometimes he's in critical condition. Sometimes he's only scuffed up a little."

"But he is is hurt? Garrett. Tinnie. I have to go." hurt? Garrett. Tinnie. I have to go."

"Have fun." I was sure that the direst reports about North English's condition would originate closest to him. I'd seen him in action.

"Come on, Garrett. You know I can't leave you alone."

I let another great line slide.

As we strolled the hallway in Tama's wake Tinnie remarked, "You're learning."

"Huh?" Wasn't I?

"You've stopped sticking your foot in every time somebody opens a door a crack."

"Did I miss something?"

"I doubt it. But if you did, so much the better."

Pain is a great teacher, darling.

Tama went out onto the same high porch where she'd awaited us. We joined her in time to see Marengo North English's coach arrive. Armed hors.e.m.e.n accompanied it. They were ragged. Bandages were common.

Somebody loved Marengo. A military-style honor guard turned out. So did a haphazard medical team.

How bad had it gotten? There was no smoke over the city so folks hadn't started burning each other out yet, but if there were many casualties, it could turn nastier fast.

Clearly, the fun had gone out of dressing up and bullying the neighbors.

An ugly little devil-worm of a word wriggled through the muck in the pit of my mind. I hoped it didn't get out and infect these guys. They were in a mood to embrace the demon.

Its name was War.

On Marengo's estate, where there were no pesky nonhumans to make them look bad, the members of several Call freecorps sparkled, though guys with different armbands seemed to have scant patience with one another. Did they fight each other when n.o.body else was handy?

The medical crew whisked North English out of his coach, onto a stretcher, headed for the house fast. From where I stood Marengo looked like a genuine casualty.

Up close he was grimly pale, like he'd lost a lot of blood. He was still leaking. His clothing had been destroyed by people eager to patch him up.

He was awake and aware. He frowned blackly when he saw me. His gaze jerked to Tama suspiciously. Tinnie joined me. North English's suspicion faded. He knew about us.

What was his problem?

Tama fussed over North English. Sounded like she meant it, too.

It wasn't necessary to fake everything in the deal she had.

She moved with the litter, spewing orders. She knew what she was doing. She'd had practical medical experience sometime.

The Pipes crowd seemed accustomed to the presence of mysterious strangers. n.o.body questioned us. We were with the boss's woman. He'd seen us himself and hadn't had a stroke. We must be all right.

I did have to field questions about my shoulder ornament. Fortunately, the G.o.dd.a.m.n Parrot kept his beak shut. I didn't have to explain how I'd become a ventriloquist. Unfortunately, none of those bold young warriors were in the market for a pet. "Think what a wonderful mascot he'd make," I said. "Put him on your standard and have him squawk insults at dwarves..."

The bird squawked an insult at me. It was incoherent but it was there.

Few of the returnees were alert. Mostly they just flopped down somewhere and closed their eyes, safe for the moment.

I remembered that from the islands. After a long, hard, emotionally draining fight, the moment we felt safe we surrendered to exhaustion by collapsing on the spot.

I picked a guy who didn't look as beat as some. "What happened?"

He focused on me momentarily, remembered seeing me with Tama. He shrugged. "Somebody tipped them off. I thought it was gonna be the great big ole hairy-a.s.sed mother first night of the Cleansing. I thought we was going to hit the skells and skuggs everywhere, all at the same time. Not just The Call and Theverly but all the groups and freecorps."

That's what they were doing at Weider's the other night. Slapping the last coat of paint on their plan. Using a joyous occasion to mask the stir of darkness. "So somebody leaked it, eh?"

"They was waiting." Like that said everything that needed saying. Misfortune hadn't robbed him of his sense of humor, though. He observed, "Ogres is bad in a street fight."

"They are hard to dent. I speak from joyless experience."

A blond character, shorter and younger than me, born with a board strapped to his back and a chip on his shoulder, stalked into the morning light. He spotted Tinnie, used her as a landmark by which to locate me, came over. "You Garrett?"

I confessed.

"The commander wants to see you."

"North English?"

"Is there another?"