Old Tin Sorrows Part 4

There was a lot of fancy stonework, statues, fountains, pools that had been drained because at that time of year water tends to freeze. Ice would break the pool walls. There were hedges, shaped trees, beds for spring and summer plantings. It could be impressive in season. Right then it just seemed abandoned and haunted by old sorrows.

I paused at the hedge bounding the north end of the garden, looked back. The vista seemed a ghost of another time.

At least one someone was watching me from a third floor window in the west wing.

Keep that in mind, Garrett. Whatever you do, wherever you go, somebody is going to be watching.

Twenty feet behind the hedge was a line of poplars. They were there to mask the outbuildings, so the practical side of life wouldn't offend the eyes of those who lived in the house. The rich are that way. They don't want to be reminded that their comfort requires sweaty drudge labor.

There were half a dozen outbuildings of various shapes and sizes. Stone was the main structural material, though it wasn't stone that matched that in the big house. The stable was obvious. Somebody was at work there. I heard a hammer pounding. There was a second structure for livestock, presumably cattle, maybe dairy cattle. It was nearest me and had that smell. The rest of the buildings, including a greenhouse off to my right, had the look of protracted neglect. Way to the left was a long, low building that looked like a barracks. It also looked like n.o.body had used it for years. I decided to start with the greenhouse.

Not much to see there except that someone had spent a fortune on gla.s.s and then hadn't bothered to keep the place up. A few panes were broken. The framework that had been white once needed paint desperately. The door stood open a foot and sagged on its hinges. I had trouble pus.h.i.+ng it back enough to get inside.

No one had been in there for a long time. The place had gone to weeds. The only animal life I saw was a scroungy, orange, feral cat. She headed for cover when she saw me.

The building next on the left was small, solid, and very much in use. It turned out to be a wellhouse, which explained why it looked like it handled a lot of traffic. A place this size would consume a lot of water-though I'd have thought they'd pipe it in from a reservoir.

The stable was the next building over. I gave it a skip. I'd talk to whoever was there after I finished snooping. Next over was a smaller building filled with a jungle of tools and farm implements with an air of long neglect. There was another cat in there, a lot of mice, and from the smell, a regiment of bats. There's nothing like the stink of lots of bats.

Next up was the barn and, yes, that's what it was. Bottom level for the animals, dairy and beef. Top level for hay, straw, and feed. n.o.body around but the cows and a few more cats. I figured there must be owls, too, because I didn't smell bats. The place needed maintenance. The cows weren't friendly, unfriendly, or even curious.

The day was getting on. The gloom was getting thick. I figured I'd better get on with it and save the detail work for later. Supper would be coming up soon.

The building I'd thought looked like a barracks was probably for seasonal help. It was about eighty yards long, had maybe fifteen doors. The first I looked behind showed me a large, dusty bunkroom. The next opened on smaller quarters divided into three rooms, a bigger one immediately inside and two half its size behind it. The next several doors opened on identical arrangements. I guessed these were apartments for workers with families. Trouble was, there was a lot of waste s.p.a.ce between doors, s.p.a.ce unaccounted for.

The far end of the barracks had a kitchen the size of the bunkroom. Its door was on the other side of the building. Glancing along that face, I saw more doors, which explained the missing s.p.a.ce. The apartments faced alternate directions. I stepped into the kitchen, a windowless, cheerless place that would have been depressing at the best of times. I left the door propped open for light.

There was little to see but dust and cobwebs and cooking utensils that hadn't been touched in years. Another place n.o.body had visited in a long time. I was surprised the stuff was still lying around. TunFaire and its environs have no shortage of thieves. All this stuff had some market value.

A gold mine that hadn't been discovered?

The door slammed shut.

'd.a.m.ned wind,' I muttered, and edged my way through the darkness, trying to remember what was lying in ambush between it and me.

I heard somebody secure the rusty hasp.

Not the wind. Somebody who didn't want to be my friend.

Not a good situation, Garrett. This place was far from where anybody had any business. The walls were thick stone. I could do a lot of yelling and n.o.body would hear. The door was the only way out and the only source of light.

I found the door, ran my hands over it, pushed gently, snorted. I stepped back a few feet and kicked hard.

The hasp ripped out of the dry, ancient wood. I charged through with a ready knife, saw n.o.body. I roared around the end of the barracks. And still saw n.o.body.

d.a.m.n! I leaned against the building and gave it a think. Something was going on, even if it wasn't what Black Pete thought.

Once I settled down, I went back to the kitchen door and looked for tracks. There were signs that somebody had been around, but the light was so poor, I couldn't do anything with them.

So. Nothing to do about it now. Might as well go to dinner and see who was surprised to see me.

7.

I was late. I should have explored the house. I didn't know where we'd eat so I went to the kitchen. I waited there till Cook turned up. She gave me a high-power glower. 'What you doing in here?'

'Waiting to find out where we eat?'

'Fool.' She loaded up. 'Grab an armful and come on.'

I did both. She shoved through swinging doors into a big pantry, marched through that and out another swinging door.

The dining room was a dining room. The kind where a guy can entertain three hundred of his closest friends. Most of it was dark. Everybody was seated at one corner table. The decor was standard for the house, armor and edged steel.

'There,' Cook said. I presumed she meant the empty place. I settled my load on an unused part of the table, sat.

Wasn't much of a crowd. Dellwood and Peters and the brunette I'd caught rifling my duffel bag, plus three guys I hadn't met. And Cook, who planted herself across from me. The General couldn't make it, apparently. There weren't any other places set.

The girl and guys I hadn't met looked me over. The men looked like retired Marines. Surprise, surprise. The girl looked good. She'd changed into her vamping clothes.

Garrett, you dog...The thought fled. This one gave off something sour. She was radiating the come-and-get-it and my reaction was to back off. Here was trouble on the hoof. What was it Morley said? Don't never fool around with a woman who's crazier than you are?

Maybe I was growing up.

Sure. And tomorrow morning pigs would be swooping around like swallows.

I didn't plan to outgrow that that for about another six hundred years. for about another six hundred years.

Peters said, 'This is Mike s.e.xton. He was with me in the islands about ten years back. Mike, Cook.' He indicated the troll-breed woman.

'We've met.'

'Miss Jennifer, the General's daughter.'

'We've also met.' I rose and reached across, offering my hand. 'Didn't get the chance before. You had both of yours in my duffel bag.'

Cook chuckled. Jennifer looked at me like she wondered if I'd taste better roasted or fried.

'You've met Dellwood. Next to him is Cutter Hawkes.'

Hawkes was too far off to shake. I nodded. He nodded. He was a lean rail of a character with hard gray eyes and a lantern jaw, middle fifties, tough. He looked more like a fire-and-brimstone prophet than an old soldier. Like a guy with the sense of humor of a rock.

'Art Chain.' The next guy nodded. He had a monster black mustache going gray, not much hair on top, and was thirty pounds over his best weight. His eyes were beads of obsidian. Another character who was allergic to laughter. He didn't bother to nod. He was so happy to see me he could just s.h.i.+t.

'Freidel Kaid.' Kaid was older than the General, maybe into his seventies. Lean, slow, one gla.s.s eye and the other one that didn't work too good. His stare was disconcerting because the gla.s.s eye didn't track. But he didn't look like a man who had spent his whole life trying not to smile. In fact, he put one on for me when Peters said his name. He was the guy I'd seen stoking the fire in the General's quarters.

'Pleased to meet you, Mr. s.e.xton.'

'Likewise, Mr. Kaid.' See? I can be a gentleman. Rumors to the contrary are sour grapes and envy.

Jennifer didn't give me a chance to start eating. 'What are you doing here?'

'The General sent for me.' Everybody was interested in me. Nice to be the center of attention sometimes. I have to set the Dead Man on fire just to get him to listen.

-'Why?'

'Ask him. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you.'

Her mouth pruned up. Her eyes shot sparks. They were interesting eyes, hungry eyes, but eyes that had been brushed by a darkness. I couldn't tell if they were green or not. The light wasn't good enough. An odd one. Maybe unique. A one in a million beauty and not the least attractive.

'What sort of work do you do, Mr. s.e.xton?' old Kaid asked.

'You could call me a diplomat.'

'A diplomat?' Surprised.

'Sure. I straighten things out. I get people to change their minds. Kind of like the Corps, only on a small scale. Personal service.'

Peters shot me a warning look.

I said, 'I enjoy good conversation as much as the next guy. But I'm hungry. And you folks got a jump on me. How about you let me catch up?'

They all looked at me oddly. Cook more so than the others. She was wondering if maybe she'd missed the mark with her earlier guess.

I stoked the fires some, then asked, 'Where's everybody else, Sarge?'

Peters frowned. 'We're all here. Except Tyler and Wayne. They have the night off.'

Kaid said, 'Snake.'

'Oh. Right. Snake Bradon. But he never comes in the house. h.e.l.l. He may not be around anymore. I haven't seen him lately. Anybody seen Snake?'

Heads shook.

Cook said, 'He come for supplies day before yesterday.'

I didn't want to ask too many questions too soon so I let Snake Bradon slide. I'd get Black Pete alone sometime and get a rundown on everybody. I said, 'That doesn't add up. I heard there were eighteen in the house besides me.'

Everybody looked puzzled except Cook. Chain said, 'Ain't been that many people around here in years. You got us guys, Cook, Tyler, Wayne, and Snake trying to keep this barn from falling apart.'

I ate some. I don't know what it was. As good as lunch but less identifiable. Cook was fond of stuff she could do in a pot.

After a while the silence got to me. I had a feeling it wasn't just for my benefit. These people wouldn't talk much more without me there. 'What about the blonde girl? Who's she?'

That got them looking perplexed. Peters asked, 'What blonde?'

I looked at him for about ten seconds. Maybe he wasn't yanking my leg. 'About twenty, gorgeous. As tall as Jennifer, even slimmer, hair almost white that hangs to her waist. Blue eyes, I think. Timid as a mouse. Dressed in white. I caught her watching me several times today.' A recollection. 'Dellwood. I saw her when you were there. You told me she was Jennifer.'

Dellwood made a face. 'Yes sir. But I didn't see her. I a.s.sumed it was Miss Jennifer.'

'I didn't wear white today,' Jennifer said. 'What kind of dress was it?'

I tried my best, which isn't bad. The Dead Man's big accomplishment is that he's taught me to observe and recollect.

Jennifer said, 'I don't have anything like that,' trying to sound bored and failing. They all exchanged glances. I took it none of them knew who I was talking about.

I asked, 'Who's taking care of the General? If you're all here?'

'He's sleeping, sir,' Dellwood said. 'Cook and I will wake him for supper after we're finished.'

'n.o.body with him?'

'He doesn't want to be coddled, sir.'

'You sure as h.e.l.l ask a lot of question,' Chain said.

'A habit I've got. I'm working on it. There any beer around the place? I could use some dessert.'

Dellwood explained. 'The General doesn't approve of drink, sir. He doesn't permit it on the property.'

No wonder they were such a cheerful bunch. I looked at Peters hard. 'You didn't mention that.' If he'd done his homework, he would have known I liked my beer. He smiled and winked. The son of a b.i.t.c.h.

'Not a bad meal, Cook. Whatever it was. You need a hand clearing away?'

The others looked at me like I was crazy. She said, 'You ask for trouble, you get it. Grab a load and follow me.'

I did. And by the time I got back for a second load, the rats had scattered.

I was going to have to ask Peters about the disparity between Cook's head count and everyone else's.

8.

After supper I wandered up to my quarters. As I approached the door, digging for the key Dellwood had left in the primitive lock, I noticed the door was a quarter inch ajar. So.

I wasn't surprised. Not after Jennifer's bold peek into my duffel bag and the trick at the old workers' barracks.

I paused. Go ahead like the cavalry? Or exercise a little caution? Caution didn't go with the image I wanted to project. But it did contribute to an extended life. And n.o.body was looking.