Good work, as always, Mr. Tharpe. Miss Pular will pay you. If you wish further employment, there is a man in the Dream Quarter I want to see. Chances are, however, that he will not come here voluntarily. Explain, Garrett.

I told Tharpe about Bittegurn Brittigarn.

“Drinks a bit, eh?”

“Like a school of fish.”

“Then he won’t be that hard. He passes out down there. He wakes up here.”

“He does have a guardian harpy,” I explained.

“Maybe you could get Morley to go with me.”

“I doubt that we’ll see Morley for a while. Too much excitement in the underworld. He’ll want to stay out of the way.”

“Best thing, till it settles. I reckon. Guess I’ll have to sweet-talk her myself.”

I said nothing. That wasn’t easy. For Saucerhead sweet talk means hitting things with a smaller hammer.

Singe paid Tharpe and recorded the outlay. Saucerhead cooled his bunions for a while, grumbling about his love life. It was the usual story. He had him a woman who treated him bad.

“Pity there’s nobody in our circle who’s musical. We could set your life to music and create us a tragical passion play.“

“It ain’t funny, Garrett.”

“So you keep telling me. Then you go pick the same kind of woman and make the same dumb mistake all over again.”

“Yeah. Only I never see it out until it’s too late. I’m on my way. Do I got any expense latitude?”

Just bring the man here.

“Hey!” I protested. “That’s my money you’re throwing away.”

Cost it out in your Keep On Breathing account.

“This puzzle really grabs you, eh?”

Your cases always wander the tombs of chaos. This time more than most. Good luck, Mr. Tharpe. Help us create order out of incoherence.

I said, “It only looks chaotic because there’s a bunch of different things going on at the same time.”

True. But those things keep banging into and tripping over one another because they have you in common.

A couple of kittens grew bold enough to enter the Dead Man’s room. Tentatively, though. “That’s kind of scary.”

It is, indeed.

I snoozed. My partner kept me breathing. Next thing I knew, Singe was shaking me. “Dean needs help bringing stuff in.”

I grumbled but dragged the loose parts together and headed for the front door. This was TunFaire. Somebody had to watch the goods while somebody else lugged stuff inside.

Dean probably planned to deploy his skills as watcher, yielding to me as a journeyman lugger.

He fooled me. “You stand by the cart and look ferocious. Mr. Sanderin and I will get the kegs installed. Singe, will you help? Or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?”

Singe scooted down and loaded up.

I spied Scithe and a pal across the street, headed for the Cardonlos place. Scithe waved.

Dean had conned a beer delivery guy into going out of his way. A Weider brewery guy. They’re hard to distract, normally. But this Mr. Sanderin had let Dean pile on a bit of everything we needed around the house, including a sack of potatoes and a bushel of apples, which wouldn’t last long once Singe got to stewing.

Sanderin had a case of nerves, probably because I’m the guy who checks up on Weider brewery employees. “Relax, Sanderin. I didn’t even see you today.”

When Dean came back after moving the first keg inside, I said, “Your pal Penny is hanging out across the street again.”

“She’s worried about her kittens. But she’s afraid to come across and find out how they are.”

“So you told her, eh?”

“I told her they were all right. They’re getting enough to eat. Nobody is hurting them.”

“Which would be why she suckered you into taking them aboard in the first place. Right?”

“She wanted to take advantage of the Dead Man’s reputation. Without having to deal with Himself. But he woke up.”

“Pity.”

“No need to be sarcastic, Mr. Garrett.”

“Maybe not. But it sure feels good. She’s welcome any time. We don’t bite. Well, I might. But I promise not to leave scars.”

“You need to see the situation from her viewpoint.”

“Dean, don’t bullshit me. You don’t get to bullshit me. That’s no child. She’s not twelve years old.”

Dean sighed. “You’re right. She’s just small for her age. And she’s been on her own since she was twelve. She’s sharp as a knife about some things and stone naive about others. And I want it to stay that way.”

I got the message. “I should feel hurt by your underlying assumptions. How about you tote a barge or two? Lift a bale? Singe is on her third load.”

Dean got Mr. Sanderin to help him. Once they couldn’t see, I blew Penny Dreadful a kiss.

Relway’s boys noticed. Maybe they’d give the kid a hard time and she’d come looking for shelter.

Singe caught me. “You are a black-hearted villain, Garrett.”

I grinned. “Ain’t life fun?”

She just said, “Looks like more rain.”

Yes. It did, actually.

The rain started in the afternoon. It began gently, but cold. After a round of thunder, it turned to freezing rain. Lucky me, I didn’t have to hazard streets gone foul and treacherous.

I was in with the Dead Man, halfway napping, feeling restless. Like I never would have if I’d been free to go out. The Dead Man was having fun needling me about my sudden surge of ambition.

Somebody came to the door.

Dean clumped on up there. He was tired of playing with kittens and trying to manage an intelligent conversation with Singe. He can’t ignore what she is for long.

Voices rattled but got lost in the clatter of the rain. Which fell with great enthusiasm, coating everything with ice. Morley came in looking as bedraggled as ever I’ve seen. He had ice on his head and shoulders. I said, “I’m speechless.”

“If only that were true.”

“What’s a dog like you doing out on a night like this?”

“It wasn’t bad when I started. I was two-thirds of the way here when it turned awful. I huddled in a doorway with refugees until it was obvious it wasn’t just weather god whimsy. Here was closer than home, so I came ahead. I fell several times. I may have sprained my wrist.”

I chuckled, picturing him huddled up with a bunch of street folk. “I suppose I ought to sit on my mirth until you tell us what you’re up to.”

Morley told the Dead Man, “Your little boy is finally beginning to develop social skills.”

Enough contusions and abrasions eventually wear the corners off even the roughest blockheads, given time.

“I can’t argue with that,” I confessed. I started to lever myself out of my chair.

Never mind. Dean and Singe are coming. They are eager for something to do that does not require them to be good company to one another.

Dean arrived carrying a chair. Singe was equipped to dry Morley out and wrap him in a comforter. Dean said, “We’ll get something warm inside you as soon as can be.”

“I’ll be fine,” Morley said. “I just hope those idiots at The Palms don’t burn it down while I’m gone.”

Morley is a micromanager. He isn’t comfortable giving his people an assignment and letting them run. I said, “You went off to the Cantard with me one time and it was still there when we got back.”

“That was in the old days. You couldn’t hurt the place when it was the Joy House.”

He went on, but I listened with only half an ear. I was marveling at the Dead Man. He’d dropped “Miss Pular” in favor of the informal “Singe.” He had accepted her into the family.

Such as it is. Strange as it is.

Maybe I ought to recruit a dwarf now.

I asked, “What’s become of all the dwarfs?”

Which question garnered bewildered looks.

I said, “It just hit me. I don’t see dwarfs anymore. Come to think, there aren’t many trolls around anymore, either. Even elves aren’t as common as they used to be.”