Easy as that. No problem now till I decided to go home.

Well, it did take a minute or two to really blend in. For a while I was whoofing and puffing so bad everybody backed away.

I got mad all over again. What was this crap, dwarves trying to snuff me all the time? What did I ever do to them? I don't have to put up with that. And Winger.

I had a mind to turn her over my knee. Only she was as big as me and that might take more turning than I could manage. But I'd had about enough. I was ready to start pushing back.

I ambled up to the Tate compound and spent an hour at Tinnie's bedside. She was mending fine. Full of fire and vinegar. We had us a good little spat, and because she wasn't in any shape for making up, I went away grouchier than ever.

Barely past breakfast time and already it was a memorably lousy day.

One of the innumerable nephews caught me before I made good my escape. ‘Uncle Willard wants to see you, Mr. Garrett."

"Right." Just what I needed. A fuss with the head Tate. No matter how rotten I felt, I couldn't get my heart into an argument with him. He'd suffered so much sorrow in the time I'd known him, unearned, that it just didn't seem right to give him any grief.

I went peaceably, ready to absorb whatever aggravation he wanted to give me.

He was at his workbench. Where else? He'd told me once that the family had a touch of elvish blood. I wondered if he hadn't fudged a little and it was really dwarfish. He was addicted to work.

He gave me the fish-eye, face unreadable. "Sit if you like, Mr. Garrett." Maybe I wasn't high up his list after all.

"Something on your mind?" I sat.

"I understand you're looking for the people responsible for what happened to Tinnie."

"Sort of."

"What does that mean? Sort of."

I explained. I wondered how many times I would have to tell the story, in how many versions, before the dust settled.

Tate listened closely. I know he picked out those points where I slipped past something I wanted to keep to myself. He said, "I see." He reflected for half a minute. "I'd like to meet the person who sent that man to kill Tinnie, Mr. Garrett."

"It was mistaken identity. Had to be."

"I realize that, Mr. Garrett. Even so, Tinnie was hurt. Badly. She would have been killed had not you and your friend been nearby. Had you not intervened. I've given this considerable thought. I want to meet the person responsible. I'll pay well for the opportunity."

He'd have to get in line, but why not? "I'll find her. Or him."

"Him? I was under the impression you believed this witch . .

"The Serpent? Seems likely. But, like I said, as time goes by I become more convinced there's another party involved. Somebody working against the Serpent. And anybody else who gets in the way."

"The blonde woman." He nodded. "You might question her."

"Yeah." Like she was going to let me. "Speaking of her, she says her principal's name in Lubbock. Mean anything? Ever heard the name?"

He didn't hesitate. "Lubbock Crister, tanner. Lubbock Tool, drayage. Frith Lubbock. Wholesale greengrocer. Yon Lubbock Damascen, shipping agent. All men I've done business with, one time or another. Surely there are others. Historically, you have Marshall Lubbock, the imperial general. You have Lubbock Candide, the sorcerer, and his daughter Arachne, who were so blackhearted and vicious mothers still use their names to frighten children."

"All right. All right." I'd never heard of any of them but the last two, but he had a point. "There're plenty of Lubbocks out there. And this Lubbock probably isn't named Lubbock at all. Could even be the Serpent under an assumed name."

The little old guy nodded again, his hair floating around his head. He picked up his TenHagens, perched them on his nose. The interview was over. He was going back to work. "Thank you, Mr. Garrett. Please do keep me posted, when you have the odd moment. And do make time to visit Tinnie. She hasn't many friends."

"I will."

"Leo!" He called for one of the nephew horde. "See Mr. Garrett to the gate." Just to make sure I didn't get lost somewhere along the way.

I hit the street feeling oddly relieved, like I'd taken care of an unhappy duty, comparable to a visit to an unpleasant maiden aunt, and now I could get on with work that mattered. I didn't much like me when I recognized the feeling. Tinnie was no old lady turned to vine~ gar in her solitude. I would have to examine my feelings toward her more closely.

I stopped walking, leaned against a wall, started the process of self-examination while considering my next move.

I don't figure I set a record for the standing high jump but I did go up like I had wings.

"Garrett!"

I came down facing Winger, knowing I'd have been dead if she'd wanted me that way.

This was a free one. The gods wouldn't hand me another chance to get away with napping on the street. "Hey, Winger." I hoped my voice didn't quaver too bad.

How had she found me so fast?

Homework. I'll bet she took my advice and did her homework. There was hope for her.

I looked around. I didn't see the guys who'd chased me. "Where are your brunos?"

"Huh?"

I'd forgotten she was from out of town. She wouldn't know the argot. Brunos are low-grade hired thugs. "The hard boys who were with you outside my place."

"They weren't with me. I didn't know they were there till you took off and they went after you."

"Oh?" The gods shield fools, all right. "Maybe you better think about getting into another line of work. You aren't going to stay alive long in this one."

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But if I go, I'll check out doing what I want to do, not worn out from pulling a plow and making babies."

She had a point. One of the reasons I do what I do is because I get to be my own boss, not a creature caught up in a web of commitments and responsibilities. "I got you."

"It's tomorrow, Garrett. And Lubbock is getting impatient."

Tough, I thought. I said, "All right. Lead on."

She headed toward the Hill. I let her lead and set the pace, kept my mouth shut. She walked like she was still behind a plow. Kind of a waste. If you took time to look her over, you saw she wasn't a bad-looking woman at all, just put together on a large scale. Way too big for my taste. I figured she would clean up pretty nice. If she wanted.

I asked, "You happen to get a look at those clowns who were sniping at me off that roof?"

She grinned. "I did better than that, Garrett. I ambushed them when they came down. Kicked their butts and broke their toys."

"All of them?"

"There was only four of them. Little hairy fellas. Stubborn. Trick with them is, stay in too close for them to use them crossbows but don't get so close they can reach you. Work on them with your feet." She skipped, kicked a foot high. I hadn't seen boots like those since I got out of the Marines. Those would do a job on somebody. If you had the strength to lift them.

"How come you did that?"

"They was horning in on my game. You ain't no good to me full of them little arrows."

"I wouldn't be much good to me, either. Wish I knew where they came from."

"Them fuzzballs?"

"The very ones, Winger. That makes three times they've come after me." Recalling that I started watching my surroundings with more enthusiasm.

We were headed toward the Hill. Her principal had to be a stormwarden or firelord or... I tried to recall which of our sorcerer elite might be in town. I couldn't think of a one. Everybody who was anybody and old enough was down in the Cantard helping hunt Glory Mooncalled.

If I was the political type, I'd figure this was a great time for an uprising. Our masters hadn't left anyone to keep us in line. But I'm not a political type. And neither is anyone else. So we'll just keep going on going on the way we've always gone on—unless Mooncalled pulls off his greatest coup yet and arranges it so none of them come home.