Book 10 - Angry Lead Skies by Glen Cook Page B

that was due to the sudden
appearance of Dotes, Tharpe, and Pular.
    “Singe!” I barked at the ratgirl. “Where did
you guys come from?” She was likely to give me a straight
answer. “Why’re you here?” Bellows that Morley
and Saucerhead would accept indifferently could rattle Singe
deeply. Ratfolk are timid by nature and Singe was trying to make
her own way outside her native society. Ratfolk males don’t
yell and threaten and promise massive bloodshed unless they intend
to deliver. They don’t banter.
    When Singe is around I usually tread on larks’ eggs
because I don’t want to upset her. It’s like working
with your mom wearing a rat suit.
    She didn’t get a chance to answer. Morley cracked,
“This one’s all right. He woke up cranking.”
    “What’re you guys doing here, Morley?”
    “Thank you, Mr. Dotes, for scaring off the baddies.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Dotes, for scaring off the baddies.”
    “See? You can learn if you put your mind to it.”
    “I was doing pretty good there on my own.” The side of
his face that wasn’t working well had a sizable young bruise
developing. “That’s gonna be a brute when it grows up.
What happened?” Morley’s stylish clothing was torn and
filthy, too. Which would hurt him more than mere physical damage
could.
    “I had a special request from the Dead Man. Round up Singe
and a squad of heavyweights, come over here and keep an eye on you.
You’re a major trouble magnet, my friend. We’re not
even in place yet and we find the excitement already happening.
What were those things?”
    With more help from Singe than from Morley I made it to a
standing position. “Where’s the kid?”
    “There was a kid? Maybe that’s who your silvery
friends were hauling away. Who were they, Garrett?”
    “I
don’t know. You didn’t stop them?”
    “Let me
see. No. I was too busy being bounced off walls and rolled through
horse excrement. You couldn’t hurt those guys.” He
looked as sour as he could manage with only half a face
cooperating. “I broke my swordcane on one of them.”
    I couldn’t resist a snicker. Morley is a lethally handsome
half-breed, partly human but mostly dark elf. He’s the guy
fathers of young women wake up screaming about in the wee hours of
the night. His vanity is substantial. His dress is always
impeccable and at the forefront of fashion. He considers disarray a
horror and dirt of any sort an abomination.
    Dirt seems to feel the same way about him. It avoids him
religiously.
    I snickered again.
    “It must be the concussion,” Morley grumped.
“I know my good friend Garrett would never mock me in my
misfortune.”
    “Mockery.” I couldn’t resist another snicker.
“Heh-heh. Misfortune.” I glanced around. “Damn!
Where’d he go? I only looked away for a second. Too bad.
You’re stuck with his evil twin instead of a
friend.”
    “I hate it when that happens.”
    Singe had seen us in action often enough to discount most of
what she heard but she still couldn’t quite grasp what was
going on. She watched us now, long fingers entwined so she could
keep her hands from flying around. Her myopic eyes squinted. Her
snout twitched. Her whiskers waggled. She drew more information
from the world through her sense of smell than with any other.
    She tended to be emotional and excitable but now remained
collected. If she had learned anything from me it was better
self-control. I felt it to be a cruel miscarriage of propriety that
my companionship hadn’t had a similar impact on the rest of
my friends.
    She took advantage of a lull to inquire, “What is this
situation, Garrett? I did not understand the message I received
from the Dead Man.”
    And yet she had come out of hiding. Because she had a chance to
help me.
    Morley smirked. I would hear about that as soon as Singe
wasn’t around to get her feelings hurt. She had an adolescent
crush on me. And Morley, known to have broken the bones of persons
having thrown ethnic slurs his way,