"I know you, Garrett. You're going to get into it up to your ears if you don't turn your back now."

Morley is usually not much shakes as a prophet. I paid him no mind, thanking him and telling him the favor was a chunk off the account he owed from the vampire busi­ness. I saw him out, then let Dean serve me lunch. Then I ambled off to earn my ten gold marks.

Willa dount was piqued by my churlish failure to bounce when she hollered but she hid it well. Everybody but the Dead Man was hiding irritation with me. I decided I'd best keep my hands covering my pockets.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Garrett."

"Your man said you'd heard from the kidnappers."

"Yes. Another letter. Delivered much like the first." She passed it over.

The same hand, with the same poor spelling, told her that Junior's market value was "200000 Marks gold." Instructions for delivery would follow.

"Two hundred thou? The kid's in trouble, isn't he? The Emperor himself might not go for that much."

"The sum can be raised, Mr. Garrett. It will be paid. That isn't the problem."

"What is?"

"I face a twofold dilemma. Part is that I won't be able to conceal an outlay of that magnitude from the Storm-warden. That's my problem and I'll deal with her displea­sure when the time comes. She won't like the expense but she would like to lose her son far less."

"I gather your own balance scale might not tilt the same way."

"My opinions are of no moment, Mr. Garrett. This is the Stormwarden's household and here the Stormwarden's will and whimsy alike are law."

"What do you need me for?"

"Advice on overcoming the mechanical difficulties of delivering that much gold."

"You'll need a big pocket to carry it."

"I'm paying handsomely for your time, Mr. Garrett. Don't waste it on witticisms. I have no sense of humor."

"If you say so."

"Two hundred thousand marks in coined gold weighs four thousand pounds. To move that much weight will require a heavy wagon and at least a four-horse team. Can they possibly expect me to get that someplace where the payoff can't be seen?"

"With a payoff that big they'd set it somewhere way out in the country, after running you along a route they could watch to make sure you aren't being followed."

"They will insist on coined gold, won't they? Bar would be easier for me to get together and handle but harder for them to dispose of. Right?"

"Probably."

"I thought so. I've already started exchanging our bar stock for coin. What else should I know?"

"Don't improvise. Do whatever they tell you, when they tell you. They'll be very nervous and likely to panic and do anything if they see one little thing going different from what they prescribed. If you've got to get some paybacks, wait till everybody is home safe. That much money will leave tracks. Bloody ones, probably."

"I'll worry about that when the time comes. Most probably it'll have to wait till the Stormwarden returns. Thank you, Mr. Garrett. Your expertise has confirmed the soundness of my own reasoning. I would say that we've had an amicable and productive relationship. But there is one thing you could do to make it perfect."

"What's that?"

"Stay away from Amiranda Crest."

"It's been twenty years since I let anybody pick my friends, Domina. You're a sweetheart, but if I make an exception for you—"

"I'm not accustomed to disobedience."

"You ought to get out into the real world more. You'd get in practice real fast."

"Get out of here before I lose my temper."

I figured that was good advice. I headed for the door.

"Stay away from Amiranda."

I supposed Amiranda had gotten similar advice regard­ing Garrett. I nearly trampled the Stormwarden's daughter Amber. I pulled the door shut behind me. "Eavesdropping?"

"She's right."

"About what?" Her ears were sharper than mine if she could make out anything through that door.

"You should forget Ami. I'm much more interesting."

In that instant I decided she was wrong. Amiranda Crest was a woman. This one wore a woman's body but the creature inside was spoiled, vain, snobbish, and prob­ably not very bright. At a snap judgment. "We'll have to talk about it sometime."

"Soon, I hope."

I think I grunted.

"Let me know when."

Persistent little devil.

The office door opened. "What are you doing here, Amber?"

"Talking to Mr. Garrett."

Willa Dount put on a fierce scowl and pointed it my way. It was my fault that the women in the Stormwarden's house tracked me down. "Go back to your apartment, Amber. You know you aren't permitted in this wing."

"Stick your elbow in your ear, you old witch."

The Domina was absolutely astonished. I feared she would begin sputtering. But her footwork was good. "If you wish to contest my authority in your mother's ab­sence, we'll refer the dispute to your father."

"Naturally. He'll say whatever you tell him to say, won't he?"

Domina Dount remained painfully aware of my pres­ence. "Amber!"

"How did you get a hold on him? It can't be because you're a woman. You freeze bathwater when you sit in it."

"That will be quite enough, Amber."

"Excuse me, ladies. I never feel comfortable in these hen sessions. I'll just be running along."

If looks could kill. Domina Dount wanted me deaf to her humiliation. Amber wanted my support.

I walked. I watched for Amiranda, but there was no sign of her.

The dead man remained engrossed in his war games. He was feeble company at the best of times. When he was like this, with his genius totally committed, he was no company at all. I consoled myself with the suspi­cion that he was on to something overlooked by the commanders of the many armies in the Cantard. I was spared his irascibility, too.

Old Dean was worse company. Each meal came with its pitch for some deprived and homely female relative who, he hinted, had just the touch the house really needed. Amiranda did not come to visit as I'd hoped. After a few days of that I got to feeling wretchedly sorry for myself and decided to go spend my recent gains buying a few barrels of beer retail, for on-site consumption.

I couldn't get my heart into it. They ran me out of the first two places for doing nothing but taking up space while I nursed a single brew.

The kidnapping kept nagging me. I should have been happy to have my hundred-ten marks for doing nothing. But I wasn't. There was a wrongness about the thing, the ring of bad crystal. Look at it as I might, though, I couldn't root out the source of the bad odor.

There wasn't much I could do about it. I didn't have a client. Nobody goes digging around on the Hill just to satisfy a personal curiosity. There was too much potential for pain and none at all for profit.

In the third bar, nearer home, they let me sit and brood. I'd done well by them in the past and would again. When the man sat down opposite me, I presumed they were trying to make the best use of table space. I didn't look at him till he growled, "Your name Garrett?"

I looked. He was a big one, broad, thirtyish, with the air of a tough and clothes you don't find anywhere but on the Hill. But no livery. A hired hand who did his work in the shadows. Nothing gave away who owned him. "Who wants to know?"

"I do."

"I got a feeling you and me aren't going to get along. I don't recall inviting you to sit."

"I don't need an invite from a crumb like you."

He was off the Hill for sure. Their heads swell when they get connected up there. "I know we're not going to be pals."