"Never mind the bad men," Morley said from behind me. "She turned them loose strictly for their diversion value."

Slap and bacon crackle happened again. People who should've been concentrating on that last shifter had let themselves be distracted by trying to keep track of me. That changer was off the floor again. It lurched toward its brethren, sprouting scissorlike claws capable of snipping silver. It seemed to be developing an immunity to the stormwarden's sorcery. A double application was needed to put it down this time.

"Someone would have to know me pretty good to think I'd drop everything if they... " Of course. Somebody who controlled the resources of Brotherhood Of The Wolf and Black Dragon Valsung could find out all about me. Somebody who'd had me dogged since before I knew I was getting into this mess. Somebody who... Who? I could look around me and see everybody involved in the case except Crask and Sadler. But they were pawns. Of the rest only Marengo remotely fit. Like the lead Wolf said.

North English might be one hell of an actor. But he had been behaving strangely ever since he'd gotten hurt. A fact which left me squinty-eyed with suspicion.

104

Wait! What about the redoubtable Lieutenant Nagit? Mr. Nagit was an excellent candidate. He probably felt underappreciated... Then I recalled something he'd said. Something I hadn't taken the trouble to hear at the time.

An evil globule of bright feathers hit my shoulder hard. "Goddammit!... "

"Do not be willfully stupid, Garrett. Do not be willfully blind."

People stared. Only Morley Dotes grasped the full significance right away. He turned, stared at the settling tank briefly, said, "You're one sneaky bastard, Garrett." He showed about a hundred pointy teeth in a grin. "I've taught you well, my disciple."

I ignored him. I told the bird, "No. I'm not being blind on purpose. I really just got it. Block! Colonel Block." He was close enough that I didn't really need to yell. "Find the woman. The mistress. Montezuma. It's her that ties everything together." Stupid, Garrett. Stupid. It was right there in front of you all the time. But she was gorgeous so you just didn't think she could be anything else. If she'd gotten lucky with you, you might have ended up as thick as Gerris Genord. Or well nicked by a meat cleaver.

How did she know Crask and Sadler? From her old days, before she got her hooks into Marengo?

We didn't know much about her. Nobody bothered to find out, no matter what we'd discussed. Why back-check a whore, however remarkable she might be?

She might have grown up with the nightmare twins.

Above, Marengo had found nerve enough to show himself. His mouth was open but nothing came out.

Mr. Nagit had told me the woman never did anything that didn't relate to her meal ticket. That explained why she had hooked up with Marengo in the first place. It explained why she'd work all the angles against the day Marengo lost interest. She'd started that as soon as she'd arrived at The Pipes, already old enough and wise enough to know that the ride couldn't possibly last.

Tama Montezuma would be one more reason Marengo North English couldn't finance his bigoted revolution. Tama would have found a hundred ways to suck herself a comfortable retirement out of Marengo's and The Call's cash flows.

It was amazing what vistas opened once I embraced the possibility that the luscious Miss Montezuma might be a villain. The probability of a connection with Glory Mooncalled laid itself out as though announced by trumpeters. I already believed that Mooncalled was behind the shapeshifters somewhere. I had hoped tonight's festivities would somehow lure him to the Weider mansion, too, probably in deep disguise. But no disguise would help as long as he came within a hundred feet of that settling tank.

Mooncalled would've gotten his claws into Tama the instant the Brotherhood Of The Wolf included Black Dragon Valsung in their plans. How she'd manipulated the Wolves was clear enough, based on the testimony of our witnesses. She'd pretended to be Marengo's go-between. Which the Wolf acknowledged when asked directly.

Tama wanted to be rich. She had only one thing to sell. The shifters wanted a brewery. They had nothing to market but their talent for infiltration. Glory Mooncalled wanted... what? Where Mooncalled came from and where he was going never had been clear. Even my partner, who made a hobby of studying the man, no longer understood what he was about. And the rest of the world knew only that Mooncalled traveled his own road and was a real pain in the ass about letting himself get pushed off of it.

The vistas stretched but I still had questions. Lots of questions. How did Tama get them to attack Marengo that night? Why try to eliminate all the main leaders of the rights movement? Or was that all staging? Where was Glory Mooncalled now? Why hadn't I pulled him in? Because of Perilous Spite? Or had he sensed the trap? And where was Tama Montezuma? Had she worked her magic on Mooncalled? That would be a real marvel, those two getting all tangled up in each other.

And: Where were Crask and Sadler?

The noise volume rose as everybody decided to do something. They teach that in leadership school. Do something, even if it's wrong. Karenta might have been a lot better off for a little more inertia in recent decades.

I have to confess some admiration and sympathy for Tama. She might not have lost me if people hadn't died. I understood what moved her. But she was too selfish and too sloppy.

All the despair now haunting the Weider mansion could be laid directly at her feet.

Mooncalled is in the area, Garrett , said the voice inside my head. He is upset. I sense that he had plans for tonight, too, but nothing has gone his way. There may be trouble.

We didn't have trouble already?

"Let's don't just stand around, Garrett," Block said. "We've got people on the run."

Morley chuckled. "I don't think anybody will get very far. Right, Garrett?"

"I'm not that optimistic, old buddy. Something will go wrong. It always does. Singe!" I couldn't mention Mooncalled. That would spark too many questions. I waved but Pular Singe didn't have courage enough to risk the center of the floor. Which wasn't a good idea, anyway. Almost everybody not in chains was now headed somewhere else in a hurry, many with their eyes closed in fear or in sheer determination not to become a witness to anything.

The gang from Heaven's Gate, however, remained preoccupied with their personal hobbies so didn't contribute to the general uproar. Trail and Storey remained determined to tap the settling tank. They wouldn't enjoy that particular vintage if they succeeded, though. It was particularly bitter, well beyond skunky. I headed that way. "Will you two leave that damned tank alone?" Shale, at least, had had the grace to pass out. Or just fall asleep. "There's all the goddamn beer you can possibly suck down over there by Quipo. Miss Trim! You're supposed to keep these antique idiots under control." But Quipo had reached a point where she was having trouble managing herself.

"Garrett. Heard 'bout you from your fren'. Winger." Quipo was speaking fluent drunkenese. "Where'd she go? Winger. Where'd-jou go?"

"Garrett." Max wanted me.

"What?"

"Must these people destroy my home?"

"Block!" I bellowed. "North English! Get your people under control!" Speaking of control, bigger trouble was on its way. Nobody was managing the shifters, especially that last one. It still wasn't yet properly shackled in silver.

The stormwarden descended into the chaos. He went among the handful of shapeshifters like a Venageti triage sorcerer, specialists who had used their talents to decide which wounded should go to the surgeons and which should be put out of their misery. Those guys hadn't saved many Karentines.