That wasn’t a hangover. This was real pain caused by real blows to the head. Accompanied by pains everywhere else.

I was in the same chair. I wasn’t tied down anymore. It was raining. Still. Moist air gusted in through a door that banged in the wind. It was the middle of the night. The rain was no heavier, but the wind was colder and more fierce. Occasional barks of thunder rattled the walls.

I got up. The change in elevation made my head swirl. My temples throbbed. My ribs screamed in protest. I might have made a sound or two myself.

There was no light. I wasted no time looking for a lamp. I headed for the doorway, landmarked by the lightning. I had to get out. I had to get moving. I couldn’t get caught here.

I was at street level but didn’t recognize where. I tried to get my thoughts wrapped around memories of Teacher White’s territory. That didn’t help.

It was cold and wet out. I wasn’t dressed for it.

Not only had Teacher’s guys disarmed me, but they had taken my jacket. They’d taken my roc’s egg and my belt. I was going to be cold and wet and miserable before I got home. Assuming I figured out which way to go.

I clung to the doorframe, feeling too sick to move. Chunks of hardened rain took the occasional nick out of my face. I looked back at what I needed to leave behind, fast.

There were dead bodies in there. Original Dick and Spider Webb. I didn’t know why. Or how. I wasn’t going to check. Original was still curled up where he’d been all along, clinging to his midnight specials.

I staggered into the weather and hiked. I reached an intersection. It told me nothing. I clung to my assumption that I was inside Teacher’s patch. I turned left because that would take me uphill. A higher vantage might reveal a familiar landmark next time the lightning flashed.

I shivered a lot.

I figured out where I was after two more blocks. Headed the wrong direction. Four blocks down that way… stumble. Stumble. And there I was, in a lane I knew, that led me to a street everyone knows. Two blocks east I hit a thoroughfare that would take me home. But my head wasn’t clearing up. I had a serious concussion. And huge trouble breathing.

Somebody too close to me had breath that should’ve drawn flies. Then I realized that stinky mouth had kept me breathing with the kiss of life.

Then I was home. Installed in a chair in the Dead Man’s room. With no clue how I’d gotten there.

In a chair. Again. Barely rational. Among many chairs, some occupied by people maybe worse off than me.

The Dead Man had them under control. I felt his grip on me, which I resented immensely till I worked out that I was still alive because old Smiley was working my lungs for me.

The Dead Man’s company included Skelington, looking more cadaverous than ever, John Stretch in his sister’s chair, Saucerhead, Winger, and the Remora. Jon Salvation glowed because he was mind to mind with the famous Dead Man. Oh, and there were three guys who worked for Block or Relway, tossed in a corner.

Relax, Garrett. I have to examine your memories directly.

I was focused on breathing so didn’t argue. Ah. Here came hot soup and a toddy. Here came Singe and a baby cat that wanted nothing to do with the Dead Man’s room. She set it in my lap. The arch went out of its back. Its fur lay down. It started purring. And I became both calm and optimistic.

Winger and Jon Salvation got up and left, obviously on a mission. Saucerhead left soon afterward. Then Dean appeared. He said the rain had eased up enough for pixies to fly. If any flying had to be done.

He went away and returned shortly with a toddy for my other hand.

I began to feel more upbeat. My tummy was full, the toddies were warming me, and Singe was tending my dents and dings. “Careful with the ribs.” The concussion seemed to have faded.

Old Bones had turned off all my pain. Singe is no light-fingered nightingale. She poked, prodded, dug, gouged. “Nothing broken. This time. I need your shirt off to see how bad you are bruised.”

Several of Morley’s men were on hand, looking nervous and inclined to be elsewhere. One snickered. Puddle’s hulking shape made a sharp gesture. The others kept it to themselves after that.

I focused a thought, wondering what they were doing here.

It will be done as soon as possible. I must install memories in the one named Puddle that will permit him to carry information to Mr. Dotes without his recalling having had contact with me.

“What happened to me?”

My mind filled with outside recollections.

One of Morley’s boys had found me on his way to work. He’d been late. A woman was responsible. Married. To somebody who wasn’t him. He wouldn’t have noticed me if I hadn’t been pointed out by some street kid.

He told Morley that his friend Garrett was in the gutter down the street, bleeding in the rain.

So I’d tried to reach The Palms after realizing that I couldn’t make it home.

A rescue team went out and scraped me up.

There.

Puddle and the boys departed, zombielike. Dean made sure they all left the premises.

I recalled the terrible bad breath. And decided never to mention the kiss of life.

Puddle has trouble with his breath.

I find myself in a quandary.

“Yeah? That anywhere near Ymber? Dean. How about another toddy?” I’d apologize to Max Weider someday. Rare though they be, in some moments beer isn’t the best choice.

Dean looked to the Dead Man momentarily before stating, “You get one more. Then there’ll be no more drink.”

“The quandary?”

I must see Colonel Block or Deal Relway. I will need them to help me get into the minds of the servants of A-Laf.

“Then you turned Puddle loose too soon. Him and his crew could spread the word about how they brought me home and it don’t look like I’ll make it and you won’t wake up to help. Or send that stack o’ Watch in the corner.”

The front wall reverberated to a major pixie launch.

I will correct that oversight. Dean. Take a few coins to the front door to express our gratitude to Mr. Dotes’ men.

Let Miss Pular put you to bed now, Garrett. You need not worry. As you surmised, Teacher White blundered badly.

“Makes you wonder if anybody could be that dumb, don’t it?”

Never underestimate the reserves of stupid lying within this city. Nevertheless, an amble through Mr. White’s mind might prove interesting.

I wanted to ask what Skelington had revealed, but Singe didn’t give me time.

Iknow where to find you. Dean, see to the door, please.