That's what they were doing at Weider's the other night. Slapping the last coat of paint on their plan. Using a joyous occasion to mask the stir of darkness. "So somebody leaked it, eh?"

"They was waiting." Like that said everything that needed saying. Misfortune hadn't robbed him of his sense of humor, though. He observed, "Ogres is bad in a street fight."

"They are hard to dent. I speak from joyless experience."

A blond character, shorter and younger than me, born with a board strapped to his back and a chip on his shoulder, stalked into the morning light. He spotted Tinnie, used her as a landmark by which to locate me, came over. "You Garrett?"

I confessed.

"The commander wants to see you."

"North English?"

"Is there another?"

"I'm new at this. I thought maybe Colonel Theverly—"

"Follow me, please."

I did. I caught Tinnie's hand as I passed her.

78

Tama was working on North English when we joined them in a room reminiscent of Max Weider's study—though this was much larger. If the weather turned bad, the freecorps goofs could hold their maneuvers indoors. A world of plotting could be managed from there. The gloomy nether reaches contained maps hung above sand tables boasting miniature structures that looked familiar.

Two guys with spears for spines and no imaginations were camped between us and the tables, I guess in case I suffered one of my outbreaks of curiosity.

Good to see they trusted me as much as I would've had I been the old boy getting mummified. "Sir," I said as the officer and I approached, "you wanted me?" He looked less determinedly antagonistic now.

"Tama says you came to see me." His voice was weak and high but stronger than I'd expected. He winced as Tama swabbed an abrasion. Naked to the waist, he was a pasty, doughy sort of man.

Also a lucky sort. He hadn't been treated kindly. He had suffered cuts and stab wounds and bad abrasions most men couldn't have survived.

I said, "I wanted to bring you up-to-date." He lacked enthusiasm. In his position it would be hard to be enthusiastic about anything less than life itself.

I edited my story only slightly. If I was being followed, my movements were no secret. Anything I'd learned, if I'd learned anything, could be learned by others. There was little point holding out. And none to revealing that I was reporting to Block and Relway, too.

I was up to the centaurs. "They were a military unit. Disguised but definitely veterans."

North English waved a hand. "Wait a minute." He pushed Tama away.

I waited while he ordered his thoughts. That took a while.

"Let me get something straight. You had no idea The Call would begin the Cleansing last night?"

"Not a glimmer. But you're the only one I know who'd know about it. You didn't warn me."

"But you're generally well informed and a keen observer. You would have noticed anything obvious." He seemed to be having trouble thinking.

"I thought so myself."

"If you didn't notice, then it wasn't something we did that gave us away." My guess was, he'd just realized that he had a rat in his walls. "Tama. Miss Tate. I want to chat with Mr. Garrett privately. Ed. You and your men step out with the ladies."

Ed was the officer who had delivered me. Apparently body-guarding was among his duties. He was scandalized. "Sir, I wouldn't recommend—"

"Do it, Ed."

Ed stopped arguing.

Tinnie didn't want to leave, either. Tama didn't want to leave. They did not argue. Marengo North English was in charge.

I chuckled. "You got Ed worried, boss."

North English frowned at my familiarity. "Possibly. And that's my fault. He took the same attitude yesterday, I told him to go away—and I ended up lucky to be alive."

"How bad is it?"

"I told you, I was lucky. Damned lucky. They meant to kill me but a gang of dwarves looking for rightsists to fight popped up and attacked them."

"I'm confused," I confessed. "Maybe you started in the middle. Dwarves saved you? From human attackers? Why would they do that?" It was interesting that terror and pain would put him into such a talkative mood. But why with me?

"They didn't recognize me. And the men who attacked me were disguised as members of the movement."

"Maybe they were."

"Possibly. That's not a thought I cherish. But I do have rivals. Although I don't think any of these men were that because I didn't recognize any of them. Even so, I did want Ed and the others out of here so we could speak freely."

"About what?"

"You must look into what happened while you're doing whatever else it is that you're doing. I'm particularly interested in knowing who those men were. I am confident that they were specifically committed to the extinction of Marengo North English and my survival is due only to an ironic twist of fate."

"I still feel like we're going sideways."

"I'll start from the beginning. Last night was a big night for The Call. We'd planned for months. We put it off several times because we thought we could make a bigger splash later. But now we were coming up on the dwarfish New Year. We had to move before all their rustic cousins came to town for the holidays."

North English composed his thoughts carefully before he continued. He was much more businesslike than he had been at Weider's.

"As you may suspect, like you, I have a taste for toothsome ladies. Not long ago I met someone new and intriguing. She seemed equally interested. Last night presented a perfect opportunity to pursue the possibilities. The Cleansing provided a reason to be away from The Pipes. And there was nothing I could contribute to actual operations short of getting out in the street throwing brickbats with the others."

I listened for hints of hypocrisy. I still had trouble picturing Marengo North English as a true believer.

Maybe the insincerity existed only in my imagination.

"So you had a date. Rough trade, too, looks like."

"I walked into an ambush. I couldn't have been much stupider. Ed warned me but I wouldn't listen. It's the way men get."

"Sometimes," I admitted, having been there.

"It's only sheer fool luck that I'm here now." He snuck a glance to see if I was conscious of the irony.

I eschewed any observation about fools and drunks. "Are you heading somewhere?"

"I am. Yes." Pause. Deep breath. "Eight of the most influential men in the movement were murdered last night. Somebody tried to kill Bondurant Altoona. Burned his house down. But he wasn't inside." Did I hear disappointment? "Ladora Ankeny was hurt worse than I was, poor woman. I was attacked, of course. Set up and attacked."

"Thought you and old Bondurant didn't get along."

"We don't. He's not well liked. We left him out of our plans. But he did hear somehow and left home—to get in the way, if I know the man at all—just before the fires started."

Maybe. "Were the attacks coordinated?"

"I believe they were."

"Why?" I meant why did he think that but that wasn't what he heard.

"The assassins were all human. I can't believe that there's that kind of opposition among our own people. There're only two kinds of humans." Eyes calculating, he paused to read my expression. "Those who're with us and those who're with us but haven't yet awakened."

You might be surprised, boss. "You know who got killed, right? Who they were could tell you why. What did they have in common?"

Evidently North English didn't want to face that question. He had an answer already that didn't please him.

"So?" I asked, noting that he was still trying to read me.

"Everyone attacked was involved in fund-raising. Or made decisions concerning raising funds. I think I might be the only one who could see that connection. So maybe that was why I was targeted."