14

I stood on the stoop wishing for a beard to go with the earring and eye patch. I growled, “Argh! Prepare to repel boarders.”

T. G. Parrot squawked, “Awk! Shiver me timbers!”

I tried to give him my best jaundiced look, but he couldn’t get the full benefit perched as he was on my shoulder.

Neighborhood kids materialized out of the crowd. “Can we feed your parrot, Mr. Garrett?”

“Yeah. To one of those flying thunder lizards.” A pair were circling high above, shopping for plump pigeons.

The kids didn’t get it. Short attention spans, I guess. It had been a while since their elders had worried about trouble with thunder lizards. Now we had centaur infestations and whatnot.

As my old Aunt Boo used to say, “It’s always something.”

I looked up the street. Mrs. Cardonlos was out watching. I waved. Always a neighborly smile, that Mr. Garrett. It drove her crazy. Made her sure I was up to no good.

I’d barely entered the crowd when Dean left the house. He was pale. He didn’t look at me. He headed downhill, toward Morley’s Joy House, which now masquerades as The Palms.

I went the other way, amidst the fastest traffic. I didn’t make much effort to see if I was followed. If I had gods on my case they would have resources better than mine. I headed where I had to go, wondering why the Dead Man was taking this so seriously.

I think I was followed by the same woman, only now she seemed taller and had a fall of white on the right side of otherwise raven hair that hung quite long. I didn’t get a good look at her clothing, but it had a foreign air.

The Royal Library has a side entrance that isn’t well known to those without friends inside. You do have to slip past an ancient guard who uses his job to catch up on naps he lost while he was off to war. Once he is behind you, all you have to do is avoid notice by the senior librarian. That isn’t hard, either. She is ancient and slow and stumbles into things when she is moving around. Once you are inside, you have to decide whether to see your friend or load up with rare books to sell.

Turned out that was the way it used to be. Changes had been made. All my fault for returning the stolen books I had happened upon the other day.

The old man had been replaced. A hard young veteran manned his desk. He was snoring. A liquor bottle dangled from his hand. Sneaky was wasted on him. I was tempted to leave the parrot on his shoulder. Let him wake up and find himself infested. He wouldn’t take another drink for hours.

I resisted. We must not dishonor our public servants.

I found Linda Lee in the stacks, peering intently at worn and flaky leather spines. She had a stylus in her mouth, bitten crosswise. She carried a wax note tablet and a small lantern. Her sleek brown hair was pulled back in an old maid’s bun and, damn me, a few gray hairs showed on her temple. She might have a few years she hadn’t mentioned.

Even so, she was the cutest bookworm I’d ever seen.

I asked, “What do you do when you have to make a note?”

She jumped. She whirled. Sparks danced in her eyes. I never knew how she was going to greet me. “What the hell are you doing here?” She had no trouble talking around the stylus.

“Looking for you.”

“Can’t get a date?”

“It’s professional this time . . . ” There you go shoving one of those big old dirty hooves of yours right down your throat, Garrett. You slick talker. “My mouth just won’t say what me head tells it to today.”

“Surprise, surprise. What the hell is that on your shoulder? You trying a new look?”

“You remember Mr. Big.”

“Unfortunately. That’s why I asked. Why haven’t you drowned it? What’s wrong with it?”

“Huh?” She wasn’t herself. I wondered who she was. That might clue me in about who she wanted me to be so all four of us could get along.

“It hasn’t said anything. Usually it’s criminally obnoxious.”

“The Dead Man did something to him.”

Linda Lee shuddered. The Dead Man gave her the creeps. That might be a problem.

“So ignore the fact that I haven’t seen you since I was a girl.”

“Three days?”

“What do you want?” For all she apparently wanted to fight, she kept her voice down. Her superiors and coworkers didn’t like me wandering in and out. It shook their confidence in their safety and the security of the Royal collection. If I kept it up, someday they would have to do something. Maybe even put out money for a real guard.

“Three days isn’t long enough for you to turn into your own grandmother . . . Damn! Now I’m doing it.”

“It hasn’t been a good day. Time is flying, Garrett.”

No need to cause more difficulties. I told the story, quick and straight, giving the most detail in the least time. I left out a few details she didn’t really need, like how exciting some of those goddess types were.

She grew thoughtful before I finished. “Really? Gods? I never? . . . You don’t think about them actually getting in your way, do you?”

“No. They’re like another remove beyond the firelords and stormwardens. They may shape your life, but you don’t figure on banging into one going around a corner. Given my druthers, I’d never run into either one.”

“Too much potential for disaster.”

“Absodamnlutely. You know anything about these gods?”

“Only their names. There are a lot of old mythologies. They aren’t my area. I could get Mad.”

“I thought you were. I just couldn’t figure out why.”

“Mad is Madelaine. She handles our scriptures.”

I recalled a harridan of satanic disposition old enough to have written the first drafts of most of her charges. “That’s not necessary. I just need whatever I can get on the Godoroth and Shayir over to the house so somebody can read them to the Dead Man.”

“You can’t take books out of here.”

“I thought I explained. I’ve only got a few days and I don’t have a clue where to start.” I touched the high points again.

She understood, all right. She was negotiating. If she was going to take risks she wanted something more than a kiss and a thank you. Maybe some yellow roses.

“All right. All right,” she whispered, throwing a troubled glance over her left shoulder. She placed a finger against her lips. I nodded. Her ears were better than mine. First thing they check when you apply at the library is your ears.

She gestured “Go away!” with finger still to lips. I went. She would do me the favor. She might even read for the Dead Man. He could charm them when he wanted. But she was going to make me pay.

I eased into shadow at the nether end of the stacks as the mother of all librarians materialized at Linda Lee’s end. The way she moved, she could have run the hundred-yard dash in slightly under a decade. She leaned on a gnarly, ugly cane notched once for every time she had caught someone talking. Her hair was white and thin and wild, and she was bent way over. She wore cheaters, which suggested she had wealthy relatives. Spectacles cost a fortune. But she still could not see her hand more than a foot from her face. I could have danced naked where I was and she would not have had a clue.

She croaked, “What’s all the racket down here, child?”

On the other hand . . . 

“Mistress Krine?”

“The noise, child. The noise. I heard it all the way upstairs. Do you have one of your men down here again?”

One of? Well. You devil.

“Mistress! I was only whispering to myself. I can’t read the lettering on these spines. The gold flake is almost gone.”

“And that’s the project, isn’t it? Find the volumes that need restoration? In future, restrain your expression of frustration . . . What was that? Is someone there?”

Not anymore. I was gone, down the back way to the back door, with less sound than a mouse on the run. I floated past the guard. His sleep remained untroubled.

What the hell was wrong with the Goddamn Parrot today? He just blew the opportunity of a lifetime. He hadn’t made a whimper.