I didn't answer him. I tramped upstairs and threw myself into bed still clad, lay there searching my soul, tossing and turning, for at least seventeen seconds.

32

Dean wouldn't let me sleep in. I got four hours of the kind of sleep that fires and earthquakes can't interrupt, then he arrived. The ultimate disaster.

I cracked one eye a hundredth of an inch, heaved one leg over the side of the bed. That seemed good enough for a day's work, but that old man wasn't satisfied. He went for a bucket of water he had cooling out back. He found me sitting up when he got back. I grumped, "How come you couldn't send Carla?"

"Because you wouldn't get up. The sausages would burn, the biscuits would blacken, the kettle would boil dry while you tried to lead her astray."

"You're one suspicious and negative old goat." I made an epic attempt to stand up. It didn't work.

Dean chuckled. "I know you. If I don't stay between you and Miss Carla, nothing will get done around here for the next two weeks."

"I'm hurt. I'm in pain. Why don't you just bring breakfast up here?"

He hefted the bucket of ice water.

"Whoa!" I blinked several times, taking my morning exercise. Dean eased over to a better spot, started to wind up. The man doesn't know the meaning of mercy.

He sneered. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea."

"Huh?"

"My niece Ruth brought me fresh clothing. She's downstairs. She'd love to serve you breakfast in bed."

I groaned. The man won't play fair. Talk about your double-whammy threat. Ruth is a nice kid. Lots of personality. You know how that translates. Dogs don't howl when she goes by, they whimper and slink, hoping she won't notice them. "I'm out of my class now."

He chuckled again. Evil old man.

Then I didn't think well of myself for a minute. Ruth was nice. She couldn't help her looks.

I got completely vertical and wobbled toward the hail. I made it downstairs without killing myself. I even pasted on a wan smile for the ladies in the kitchen. Carla and Ruth had a contest to see who could beam back the brightest. It was like staring into the rising sun. I dropped into a chair and shielded my eyes.

Dean was a prophet. Breakfast was sausages and biscuits, with hot tea My condition improved radically, though I never achieved sparkle. I staggered up and made the song march to the Dead Man's room. "I'm here, Chuckles." Plop into the chair.

Barely.

"Huh?" I had to figure it out. I'm not at my best in the morning. You may have noticed.

We have only one real option left. We have to be the first to find the book. I consider that imperative now. If we fail, it could mean disaster for TunFaire.

"Eh?" It was too ear'y. I'd left my brain upstairs snoozing.

After sustained reflection I have come to distrust the motives of my friend the Gnorst. The cues are small but there. He has succumbed to temptation.

"I thought so."

We can, for the moment, ignore the Serpent. She has been neutralized. Easterman is of little account.

"You think? He's got Winger playing for him."

She is lucky to slay alive. Her luck will not last. No, Chodo Contague is the hunter who concerns me. The focus has shifted to his forces and those of the Gnorst. Both parties are far more formidable than the originals commanded by the witch and the madman. We now have the potential for a substantial conflict, perhaps fired by some personal animus, considering hints you picked up during your interview with the kingpin.

I had to slap me upside the head to get the clockwork ticking well enough to understand what he was saying.

"Yeah Chodo had sounded bitter about dwarves and Dwarf Fort. He hadn't been able to corrupt the place. Knowing him, he'd like to get in there and kick some ass. He don't like it when folks aren't afraid.

"We're off to a scintillating start today, aren't we? With your brains and my brawn I just know we'll wrap it all up before lunch."

You appear to be coming to life.

"Easy for you to say. All I got to do is breathe."

We do have a lead, Garrett. An oblique angle that should not be difficult to pursue

"Could have fooled me."

Assume our unclad guest was Holme Blaine.

"We know that for a fact."

Not exactly, though it is highly probable. Now. Listen. You have spent considerable energy trying to guess why he came here but none on why he chose us in particular.

I was coming around. I could see both fragments of the hair he was splitting. "I thought about that." But not very much.

You thought of the lead, too. The possibility that he came because he knew Miss Ramada was going to come.

"So you think I should see the people she talked to, find out if he talked to them, too, see if he left something with somebody."

Exactly

"Guess I might as well ask her, then get cleaned up and changed and climb on my horse. The house being watched?"

Not obviously.

"You got any idea who's been following me?"

No.

"Great. Well, what's become of everybody who's disappeared?"

You have not yet reasoned that out?

"No. I have not yet reasoned that out. Would I ask if I had?"

You remain as lazy as ever.

"Damned straight. I got you to figure for me. So give me the benefit of your wisdom. Without the standard shilly-shally."

Dotes and Tharpe have gone underground because they expect you to bestride your white horse and charge Chodo Contague. I suspect, they read the signs early and moved quickly, seizing the head start.

"Wonderful friends I have."

I have doubts myself. But I am not as mobile as they. My options are reduced. I am at your mercy. I have to stand and fight.

I grumped.

That is but a hypothesis, Garrett. Though a good one, I think. They know you. You are wont to fly in the face of good sense. Do you truly believe that it is your duty to rescue the world from Chodo Contague?

I grumped some more. How come everybody assumes whenever some baddy poots I'll grab me my rusty sword? Hell. Considering how Crask wanted to round me up last night, even Chodo thinks that way. Hell again. I don't want to think I'm predictable any more than the next guy does.

"What about Sadler?"

More difficult, as I have not had as many exposures to Mr. Sadler's thought processes. My best guess is that he saw the implications of Mr. Contague obtaining the book and exhausted his patience.

"Say what?"

Have you never wondered about his unswerving loyalty?

"Only about a million times. Along with anybody else who ever had anything to do with the underworld."

Reflect on that patient loyalty in light of what you suspect Mr. Contague might do with the Book of Dreams.

It took me a minute. Hell, it was still early in the morning, remember? I had an excuse. "Say what?" Tell me black is white. Tell me princes of the church are saints, our overlords are philanthropists, lawyers have consciences. I might believe you. I might give individuals the benefit of a doubt. But don't try to sell me the notion that Sadler would turn on Chodo. "I don't believe it."

Have I not yet convinced you that what you believe is of no consequence? It is obvious, based on his questions, that Mr. Crask suspects a defection. If he acts upon that, the truth and your belief will not matter. My own inclination is to believe he would be correct in his assumption, considering hints underlying your last discussion with Mr. Sadler.

It's a fact, perceptions have more impact than absolute truths. We humans belong to a tribe steadfast in its refusal to be confused by the facts. Still...Yeah, but Sadler just wouldn't.Would he? Even if the cripple he expected to replace any day came up with a way not only to evade death but to get healthy in the bargain?