Free Book 06 - Red Iron Nights by Glen Cook

exist. The kid
thought he had to show me. Quick as an eyeblink he showed me a
razor. Elves have a love affair with sharp steel, especially the
young ones. He was so predictable I was there with my headknocker
as fast as he was with the blade. I popped his knuckles. He yowled
like a stomped cat. The razor flew down the counter. The audience
gave us a hand. And a mountain of a man lumbered out of the
kitchen.
    “Garrett. What you doing?” This was Sarge, another
of Morley’s old hands. He came out of the same production
batch as Puddle.
    “I asked to see Morley. Kid pulled a razor.”
    Sarge shook his head sadly. “What you want to go do that
for, Spud? Man wants to see Morley, give Morley a howl. Morley
wants to have him friends like this, that’s his
lookout.”
    “Spud?” I asked. What kind of name was Spud? Not
even a dwarf would tag his kid Spud.
    “What we call him, Garrett. Name’s really Narcisio.
Morley’s nephew. His sister’s kid. Got to be more than
she could handle. Morley brought him down here so he could
straighten him out.”
    Meantime, the kid talked to the voice tube that connected to
Morley’s office.
    I shook my head. Morley Dotes going to set somebody’s feet
on the straight and narrow? Morley, whose real career is cutting
throats and breaking bones and running an occasional con or even a
straight ripoff if the stakes are big enough? My pal Morley?
    Sarge put on a big grin. “I know what you’re
thinking. But you know Morley.”
    I knew Morley. He could believe mutually contradictory things at
the same time, with religious fervor. His whole life was a tangle
of contradictions. He lived them all with passion. He could sell
you anything, because he believed every word he said when he said
it. That was why he did well with the ladies. And no matter that he
might take up a completely new passion five minutes hence. He was
completely committed now.
    Morley had done some good where Spud was concerned. The kid
wasn’t happy about being shown up, but he put it away from
him. He told me, “Morley will be down in a few minutes. You
want something while you’re waiting?”
    “Puddle still got his keg back there? Tap me one off it.
He owes me a couple gallons.”
    Sarge chuckled. “Whyn’t you finish the whole thing?
I love to watch him puff up like a big old toady frog when he comes
in and finds out somebody’s been at his keg.”
    “I’ll do my best. Company?” I jerked a thumb
skyward.
    “Yeah. His luck’s coming back.”
    “Glad somebody’s is.”
    Sarge chuckled again. “You shoulda married that Maya when
she asked. She was all right.” He patted Spud’s
shoulder, said, “You done all right. Just don’t be so
fast with that razor. Next guy might not be nice like
Garrett.” He headed for the kitchen. I wondered what he was
doing back there. I wouldn’t trust him anywhere near food in
preparation. Not even the horse fodder they serve at Morley’s
place.
    I figured the kid’s ego needed a boost so I sort of
sideways apologized for being so hardass. The audience had lost
interest, so he could halfway apologize too. “I only been
here a couple days, Mr. Garrett.” He recognized the name now.
“Always somebody coming in here to pester my uncle. You
looked like an unhappy husband.”
    I laughed. “Not a husband, just unhappy.” Morley
isn’t satisfied unless he’s taking needless risks. Like
refusing to fool around with a woman if she isn’t married. He
used to have a bad gambling problem too, but he got over that.
    Morley came downstairs looking smug. Without saying so, he
wanted me to know his life was going great. Way better than mine. I
couldn’t argue. Lots of people’s lives were going
better than mine.
    “What’s going on, Garrett?”
    “Need some privacy to talk.”
    “You on a job?”
    “This time. Dead Man says we might need to subcontract.
Also, he wants to pick your brain.”
    “Take the table in the corner.”
    I picked up the beer Spud had drawn off