I could guess. He was a teenage boy. With the financial means to indulge a teenage boy’s fantasies. The Tenderloin was a stone’s throw on down the street.

Not smart. You could get dead. A dozen different ways. Not all of them sudden.

Clever lad, he avoided answering by responding to what I’d asked earlier. ‘‘Mom is fine. Kind of doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she doesn’t have to work all the time.’’

He has a significant interest in the manufacturing concern. Between them, he, his mother, and sister control the biggest chunk. He’d insisted.

‘‘You get her that house?’’

‘‘The one where she always lived. It’s all hers, free and clear, now.’’

‘‘That’s good. What are you doing down here? Not wasting yourself in the Tenderloin, I hope.’’

Kip turned bright red. Brighter than when Tinnie worked her witchcraft. He sputtered. Then choked out, ‘‘I’m just hanging out with my friends.’’ He indicated the impatient boys across the street. He and those two looked like one socially challenged pod. The friends were tense and irritated and eager to distance themselves from the World. ‘‘I just saw you and decided to say hi. What’re you doing?’’

‘‘Killing bugs.’’ I pointed at the beetle by the wheel of Playmate’s coach.

Kip’s eyes got big. ‘‘Wow! Well, I got to go.’’

‘‘Good seeing you again,’’ Tinnie told him.

He gurgled, waggled a hand feebly, and headed out. Tinnie blew him a kiss, just to amuse his sidekicks. Who started in on him as soon as they could without having me hear what they said.

‘‘Having fun with the cruel and unusual, woman?’’

‘‘You ever make that mistake when you were a kid?’’

‘‘I didn’t know any beautiful redheads then.’’

‘‘Cute. Try again.’’

‘‘What mistake?’’

‘‘Trying to distract an adult’s curiosity with a preemptive move.’’

‘‘I don’t follow.’’

‘‘And you a skilled detective. He was going by. He didn’t want you wondering why he was down here. So he decided to establish his innocence ahead of time. Neither of us would’ve noticed him if he hadn’t pointed himself out. But now you have noticed. And now you’re curious.’’

‘‘Got you. Yeah. I made that mistake a few times.’’

‘‘Never worked, did it?’’

‘‘Nope. Turned around and bit me every time. I’m going to find Singe.’’

Kip and his friends left quickly, all talking at the same time, all of them angry.

The ratpeople inside the World weren’t pleased to see me. They figured I was there to micromanage. Like Max, though, I’d rather tell somebody what needs doing, then get the hell out of the way. Most of the time. ‘‘Singe. I need you outside.’’

As we headed for the coach, she asked, ‘‘That’s the same boy who was involved with the silver elves?’’

‘‘The same.’’ She’d tracked Kip before.

‘‘What do I need to do?’’

‘‘Find out where he goes. And what he’s up to, if you can do that without getting caught.’’

‘‘You aren’t coming?’’

‘‘You aren’t ready to operate on your own?’’

‘‘I am ready.’’ Proudly.

‘‘Excellent.’’

She picked up the trail right away.

Tinnie asked, ‘‘Is that smart? Sending her off by herself?’’

‘‘The kid has to grow up someday. She manages ordinary household business on her own.’’

‘‘I suppose.’’

‘‘What happened to Saucerhead and Playmate?’’

‘‘They went down that alley over there. To check with a man about a mule.’’

Together? That was a girlie thing to do.

‘‘You heard from Alyx? Or the others?’’

‘‘Not lately. Why?’’ Eyes all narrow.

‘‘You and Max should form a club. He’s also sure Alyx is in dire peril from the dread Garrett beast.’’

‘‘The beast isn’t that bad. But it better not get caught fondling any blondes. Of any kind.’’

Kip’s mother and sister were blondes, last time I saw them. ‘‘Pretty draconian, wouldn’t you say? What?’’

Her face had drained. Even the freckles had gone.

She was staring over my shoulder.

Before I ever turned, I told her, ‘‘Get in the coach. Lock any locks you find. And don’t come out till Play and Saucerhead get back. No matter what.’’

20

There were seven of them. Teens, with the youngest just over the border but a decade older in his empty heart. The tallest was maybe five feet six. They were all pale brown, black of hair, empty of eye, the sons of refugees. And stupid.

They were up to no good. Obviously. In broad daylight. In an area that attracted Watchmen, though none were evident at the moment. They didn’t know who they meant to mess with and they weren’t carrying weapons. Not openly.

The leader announced himself with a short guy swagger. We locked gazes. He was dead cold inside, this boy. How do they get that way so young?

‘‘Help you with something?’’

‘‘You ready to come across with the insurance now?’’

‘‘I’ll be damned.’’ I couldn’t help laughing. ‘‘There just ain’t no limit to stupid in this burg.’’

That didn’t sit well. ‘‘You calling us stupid?’’

‘‘Yeah. Do the math, kid. Did you bother to find out who you’re messing with? Or where you’re doing the messing? You’re going to try to run a protection scam on the richest man in TunFaire? He can afford to pay a thousand dorks just like you to scatter pieces of you from the north side all the way down to the delta. And he will, just to make sure word gets out not to fuck with him.’’

The baby of the crew sneered. ‘‘This is Stompers’ turf now, old man. Nobody does nothin’ here without they get our permission first.’’

‘‘This is the Tenderloin, baby boy. Combine territory. Folks a lot less forgiving than Max Weider. You boys go home to mama. Before you give her a reason to cry.’’

These kids weren’t used to having somebody not melt in terror. Their particular combination of ferocity, ignorance, and don’t care if I see tomorrow could only mean they were children of the Bustee, TunFaire’s foulest and most dangerous slum.

The kid gangs of the Bustee all have names like ‘‘The Stompers.’’

The seven spread out. Their captain was disappointed by my attitude. He planned to show me why they’d chosen their name.

Saucerhead and Playmate, back from haggling over a mule, came round the coach. Tharpe read the situation in a blink, snapped up two boys, and smacked them together so hard I heard a bone break before one started wailing. He threw the lighter kid up on top of the coach. Where the boy failed to stick. He fell back down, landing in a way that had to dislocate his shoulder.

Tharpe selected another victim.

Playmate, saddled as he is with a conscience, took time to assess the situation before he stepped in. His score was just one knockdown, plus dishing a second serving to one of the ones I put down when the kid tried to get back up.

Tin whistles tooted.

The leader of the pack was the only one who produced a weapon, a rusty kitchen knife probably stolen from home. He didn’t know how to use it. Yet.

He would, someday. If he survived.

The first Watchman arrived after the action. Four boys were hurt too bad to run. Two tried but had no luck. The littlest was the only one nimble enough to get away, crying as he went.

The leader’s knife hand was all crippled up. Somebody stomped it. He didn’t whine. His eyes didn’t get any less cold.

The first tin whistle to show was a guy I knew, Ingram Grahm. ‘‘What happened, Garrett?’’

I told it. Tinnie backed me up. Ingram considered arresting me for having a disproportionately beautiful companion. Playmate and Saucerhead told what they knew. Ingram echoed my own thinking. ‘‘There’s no bottom to the reservoir of stupid, is there? These guys the reason you’re down here?’’

‘‘Maybe. Somebody’s been messing with Old Man Weider’s construction crew. He told me to make it stop.’’

‘‘Yeah? Take care. There’s probably a shitload more of these little peckerneckers. Their mobs run in the hundreds, sometimes.’’