Relway was having way too much success selling civic responsibility.

My pixies were old-school, though.

Witnesses agreed that the Ugly Pants Gang just came up and started trying to break in, ignoring onlookers like they expected to do whatever they wanted, fearing no comebacks.

I tickled the down character with my toe, near his groin, in case he was playing possum.

“Garrett.” Scithe wagged a finger. “No, no.”

“The victim of the crime should be able to get a vague notion why somebody wants to bust up his place.”

“We’ll let you know what you need to know.”

“That’s comforting.” I didn’t have to decide for myself. The secret police would take the worry off my shoulders. They’d figure it all out for me. I just had to lie back and enjoy it.

I didn’t argue. The name Garrett is far too high on Relway’s curiosity list already.

Stuff happens around me. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m so handsome and Fortune hates a good-looking man.

I told the pixie sentries that I appreciated their nest’s help. “Dean’s got some baby cats inside. Tell him I said to roast them up for you.”

Saucerhead fell into step beside me. I said, “I thought you might not get far.”

“Smells like a job opportunity.”

“I don’t really have anything… Wait. There is one thing. A street kid who calls himself Penny Dreadful. Runs errands. Carries messages. You know the type. There’s a thousand of him out there. Looks to be about twelve. Might actually be a girl a little older. And might be connected to what just happened.”

“Want me to catch her?”

“No. Just find out what you can. Especially where to find her. She’s not real high on my list, though. I’m worrying about Chodo’s birthday party.”

Saucerhead grunted.

Tharpe is huge. For a human being. And he’s strong. And he’s not real bright. But he’s a damned good friend. And I owe him, so a made-up job when I can manage one is never out of line. Especially when he might turn up something actually interesting.

I couldn’t conceive of any connection with what had just happened. Nor could I conceive of another explanation. But TunFaire is overrun with people trying to find a new angle.

Still, there’s hardly a bad boy around who doesn’t know what happens if they get too close to the Dead Man.

That screwball fable about foreign gods had some oomph!

“I’m all over it,” Saucerhead promised.

I gave him what little I could, including a description so feeble that all Penny Dreadful had to do to disguise himself would be change his shoes. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Winger. My life has been nice lately. I’d rather go right on not having her underfoot.” Winger is a mutual friend. Sort of. Being mainly a disaster on the hoof.

She’s the most amoral person I’ve ever met, with the social conscience of a rock. And all of a rock’s obsession with making the world a better place.

Winger is completely unaware that there are real, hurting people in this world who aren’t Winger.

“I don’t figure she’s likely to be a problem, Garrett.”

“She’s always a problem.”

“She’s in a relationship.”

“Winger? She’s in love? With somebody besides herself?”

“I don’t know about love. There’s this little winky who’s so gaga about her that she don’t get much chance to get into mischief. He follows her all around. Everything she does, he writes it down. Creating her epic cycle.”

“All right.” As long as Winger didn’t pop up, trying to profit from whatever was happening. Which is her usual way of doing business.

“Where’re you headed, anyway?” Saucerhead wanted to know.

“To see Chodo’s mouthpiece. He’s been bugging me to come by. Something to do with the old boy’s will, I guess.”

“See you tonight, then.”

“Sure. Just don’t let all that neutrality go to your head. Old buddy.”

I never visited Harvester Temisk before. I’d had little to do with him even when his client was active. Puzzle as I might, I couldn’t imagine what he wanted.

He didn’t put up much of a front. His little shop was less cushy than the hole-in-the-wall I used before I partnered up with the Dead Man, then scored big enough to buy us a house. I slept, cooked, lived, loved, and worked in that tight little space, back then.

Harvester Temisk didn’t look like a lawyer. Not how I thought a lawyer ought to look, anyway, so we know them when we see them. There wasn’t an ounce of slime or oil on him. He looked short because he was wide. Once upon a time he might’ve been more thug than mouthpiece.

Chodo being Chodo, that might’ve been protective coloration.

The mouthpiece’s prosperity had suffered. His haircut wasn’t nearly as nice as it used to be. And he still wore the same clothing.

“Thanks for coming.” A note of criticism crept into his voice. He noted me cataloging the evidence of his newfound indigence. “You don’t work much when your only client is in a coma. He set up a trust that keeps me from starving, but didn’t make good investments. Did you review the stuff I sent you?”

“I did. And couldn’t make sense of it. Nor did I figure out what you want.”

“I needed to see you face-to-face. Has anybody from the Outfit been interested in me? Or Chodo’s condition?”

“I don’t think anybody inside, except for Belinda, knows you’re still around.”

“That should hurt. But I’m glad. I hope they forget me completely.”

He was worried. He couldn’t keep still. That didn’t suit the image projected by a square head, silver hair, square body, and squinty brown eyes.

“So, basically, you want to remind me that I owe Chodo. And you’re ready to call the marker.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Once he did, he couldn’t ever take it back.

“You’d better get to it. Especially if you want to get something done before the party. Belinda won’t reschedule.”

Belinda. There was a diversion he could snap up.

“I’m worried about what might happen tonight.”

It would be a wonderful opportunity to eliminate a lot of people Belinda didn’t like if that was the way she wanted to work it.

Only somebody who knew the truth about Chodo’s condition would be suspicious. Though a lot who didn’t know still thought that it wasn’t natural for the Boss to run things through his daughter. Not for so long.

The rats smelled a rat.

A lot of wise guys would turn up just so they could give the Boss a good glim. His health, or the decline thereof, might suggest a potential for personal advancement.

I mused, “What’s she going to pull? How’s she going to pull it?”

“Can’t figure that out, either.”

Something didn’t add up. It took me a second to figure out what. “Wait a minute. You got in touch before Belinda announced the party. Did you have inside info?”

“I wish. No. I have almost no contacts inside now. This isn’t about the party. It’s about… I think it’s time to rescue him, Garrett. The party just complicates things.”

“Mind if I sit?” His best furniture was his client’s chair. “Time to rescue Chodo? You mean like round up a couple squadrons of dragoons and go raid the Contague estate? That isn’t going to happen.”

“Not rescue physically. Mentally. If we shatter the chains imprisoning his mind, the physical side will take care of itself.”

“You’ve lost me completely. I know coma victims have come back. But not very often. Never, if everybody else thinks you being in a coma is so exquisitely useful that it’s the next best thing to you being dead.”

“You ever know anybody who came out of a long coma?”

“No.”

“Ever know anybody who was even in a coma? Besides Chodo?”

“During the war. Usually somebody who got hit in the head.”

“Up close, for very long?”