They didn’t know who they were protecting. Had they done, the temptation to sell that knowledge would’ve bitten them good by now. The door was locked from their side with three locks. I could’ve gotten through those, no problem, given a little time, but not in front of an audience.
Penny Dreadful had a key. So did Mr. June Nicolist. And, to my dismay, Silverman had the third, which he handed to me after he used it.
The system didn’t make sense to me.
I was nonplussed about them being hidden practically in plain sight. How did Old Bones and the rest expect this to stay secret?
June Nicolist’s key fit the middle lock. That one didn’t secure the suite door — it let a small hatch swing open. Communications was possible that way. So how come the prisoners hadn’t bribed their guards?
Number one sidekick had him a lot of explaining to do.
Once everyone with a key exercised his or her talent, I said, “June, this would be a good time for you guys to take a break. Mr. Dotes will handle the guard duties while you’re away.” Mr. Dotes and his harem had caught up. The Goddamn Parrot showed signs of fixing to commence to begin waking up.
Not good.
Comstock and Nicolist had been in their racket awhile. They didn’t get miffed by any implied lack of trust. Nicolist said, “We was just changing shifts, anyways. I’ll just head on home. Give Orion the key when you leave.” Since it had done its job already, I handed it to Comstock now.
The door opened into a tiny foyer. Beyond that lay a sitting room as comfortably appointed as any in Chodo’s own mansion. Without windows.
Chodo and Harvester were playing chess. Belinda was nowhere to be seen. The boys looked like they were staging. Like kids interrupted in the middle of mischief suddenly pretending exemplary behavior.
Penny released the Luck. Kittens streaked toward the men, excepting two who peeled off through a doorway to another room.
Silverman didn’t seem impressed. Maybe he didn’t recognize anybody. He spread out. Tools appeared. His boys started measuring and pounding. They ignored everybody.
Belinda came out. She was unkempt but looked less stressed than I’d ever seen. Penny darted over. They started whispering. Girl talk? Belinda suddenly being the teenager she’d never been, with her little sister?
Morley stuck his head in just long enough to satisfy his curiosity, then made like a sentry.
Chodo was in his wheelchair. He wasn’t the breathing corpse Chodo of Whitefield Hall, though. He had strength enough to turn his chair. “Garrett.” His voice had no timbre yet. It was a harsh rasp. But he was talking.
“Sir.”
“I must thank you.”
“Sir?”
“The favors I did you have paid their dividends. I’m not really much less a prisoner now, but my mind has been set free. Thanks to you.”
He didn’t look at his daughters. They weren’t interested in him. Under the current regime, family stress had to be managed through mutual indifference. Enforced company couldn’t tear down those walls.
Harvester avoided my eye whenever I glanced his way. I expected a peck of lawyering weasel words. He didn’t bother. Probably didn’t want his good buddy to hear what I might say back. Nobody mentioned the outer world. Chodo husked, “Can I ask what they’re doing?”
“Sure. But I can’t tell you. I don’t know. The Dead Man set it up.” Silverman’s guys were installing little tiny nickel dogs in niches they made in the walls.
My response didn’t please Chodo. But his irritation faded even before the extra kitten arrived. The nickel critters were sucking up the dark emotion already. Silverman beckoned Belinda. “You. Come here.” Her eyes narrowed. People didn’t bark at Belinda Contague. But she did as she was told. “Left hand.”
She extended her hand. Silverman snapped a charm bracelet around her wrist. The charms were all tiny dogs in various doggy poses. All right! Damn it. Jackals. Every one enameled black. Presumably to prevent cold burns. “Hold still.”
Belinda frowned but did as she was told. Silverman snapped a black choker around her throat. It boasted a half dozen squares of what looked like obsidian, each with a nickel critter inside. Done, Silverman turned to Chodo. Chodo would have indulged in a good old-fashioned shit fit if he could have. But Silverman was stronger than he was.
He didn’t get a choker. He got bands on both wrists and a neck chain on which an enameled dog pendant hung under his shirt.
Harvester Temisk got one around his right ankle and one on his left wrist. And a pendant to match his best buddy’s.
“And that takes care of that,” Silverman said. “I have a few extra pendants, any of you others suffer from mood swings.”
I volunteered to pass. As did Penny. I did think it could be useful to make tons of this kind of jewelry, though — if it really sucked the crazy out of people.
“As you wish. I wouldn’t do that, miss.”
Belinda was trying to unfasten her bracelet. There was a flash and a harsh pop. She yelped. Silverman said, “You can’t take it off. It won’t let you.” I saw why the Dead Man thought so well of Silverman.
The old man told me, “Give them a few days to get used to their jewelry. Then you can release them to their regular lives.”
I told him, “Thank you, sir. I’ll move your daughter as far up the list as I can.” A board meeting was coming up. I had some ideas to present, involving both Silverman and the employment of ratpeople to copy books. They’d let me talk as long as I didn’t go trying to waken their consciences. I’d just need to talk business first.
“You’re a good businessman,” Silverman told me, with a smile I didn’t figure out till later. “Thanks for everything.”
I said, “I think we’re done here, then. Belinda, Mr. Contague, I’ll be back in a few days.” Penny stayed behind. With her cats.
Morley was patient while I visited Buy Claxton. Who was riding her stay for all it was worth, now that her health was not endangered. Human nature, I suppose. When I came back, I decided, I’d take her upstairs and see if she couldn’t get back on with the family. While the shyster panicked.
Silverman’s attitude soon explained itself.
My deceased associate had been bitten by the entrepreneurial serpent. Possibly because he was tired of having to wake up and earn his keep a couple times a year.
He’d robbed the A-Laf cultists of everything there was to know about the nickel dogs — all right! Jackals! Then he’d rung in Silverman, who owned the skills needed to exploit that knowledge.
They partnered up to drain the pain from the Bledsoe. With Silverman somehow bleeding off the accumulations and earthing them where they would do the world no harm.
It wasn’t many months before the improvements became noticeable.
Morley played the parrot hand for all it was worth, heading back to the house. I suppose that wasn’t unjustified, after the yeoman blow delivered by Mr. Mulclar.
He did say, “The underworld should calm down for a while, just to sort itself out.”
“Good news, good news. Maybe I can talk Tinnie into going off to Imperial New City for a couple weeks. We could tour the historic breweries. What the hell is this?”
The street was blocked. Mummers, jugglers, people in period costume, guys on stilts, whatnot, were crossing in front of us.
“One of the playhouses trying to pump up attendance, probably. Like everything else does, the playhouse fad has gone into overkill.”
That’s my hometown. When one man strikes gold everyone else tries to cash in by imitating his success. Instead of panning new gold.
This looked like a sizable show. It held us up for ten minutes. I concluded, “I saw so much here. Why should I go to their playhouse?”
“Because there you get a story?”
“I don’t need a story. My whole life is a story.”
Thinking no more about it, I trudged on toward my showdown with a partner who insisted on toying with his associate. And a date with the ne
w keg of Weider Select that Dean was supposed to get in today.
Maybe I’d go see the redhead later, see if she was interested in a brewery tour.
Glen Cook, Whispering Nickel Idols
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