Cruel Zinc Melodies

‘‘I’ll do that.’’ I went. I made a tour of the shops. And won a full complement of growls and scowls from the few workers actually on hand. I counted the three-wheels in various stages of completion. Twenty-eight, total, of which eleven were ready for delivery. I grabbed one and went pedaling around the main floor.

After getting chewed out by a foreman who wasn’t impressed by my co

I dropped a few seeds for thought. I hoped he wouldn’t be able to get them out of his head.

The boy was working the nerve up to go for some intimate advice when Ti

‘‘Singe is right, Garrett. Grab your coat. We’ll go down to your place. We can put our heads together.’’

She was tired and frayed and distracted. She knew what was going on and who was doing it and didn’t want it to be true.

It would be family. Tates are big on family. And, given that assumption, I could name the villain. Rose Tate, bad cousin.

It had been a long time since Rose had done anything wicked.

‘‘There’s a good chance Singe won’t still be up.’’

‘‘Then there’s a good chance I’ll wake her up. Or I’ll talk to her in the morning.’’

Oh boy! I left Kip with a parting smirk. Then I turned right back. ‘‘I need those drawings and papers to show Mr. Weider.’’

Kip gave them up reluctantly, and only because he knew I wouldn’t steal the ideas.

As we hit the cold and darkness, my sweetie asked, ‘‘What was that with Kip?’’

‘‘He came up with a couple ways to light the World without smelly lamps, candles, or torches.’’ Which meant the theater could operate any time, not just when the sun was available.

That wasn’t what Ti

Singe was awake. And still worrying the problem that interested Ti

A dragon. How do you deal with a dragon with any hope of avoiding calamity?

89

Singe wakened us. ‘‘John Stretch is on his way. So is Playmate. Joe Kerr and his siblings will do your shoveling for you. You’d better hurry if you want breakfast before we go.»

Ti

Breakfast had to wait.

No one else dillydallied. John Stretch, his rats, his henchrats, and his transportation all failed to wait. Dean’s lips were pursed in abiding disapproval when we finally reached the kitchen.

He had been good enough to keep our breakfasts warm.

Ti

I’d already been dead asleep. She hadn’t wakened me. ‘‘Copies?’’

‘‘This got past me, Garrett. Maybe because I didn’t want to see it. It took a ratgirl to notice. I know you. You’ll tell Max. I want to be there. To try to explain. To intercede, if I can.’’

Intercede? The Tates would keep rescuing Rose till she scuttled them all. Yes. Max was fond of Ti

See me before you leave.

I headed for the Dead Man’s room.

Singe intercepted me. ‘‘You are going to see Mr. Weider?’’

‘‘It’s got to be done. I thought you went with your brother.’’

‘‘I had paperwork. I would like to come with you. To explain.’’

I started to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary.

The Dead Man stroked my mind with a feather’s touch of warning. ‘‘Sure. It’ll be more convincing from somebody who can add up two times three. They don’t think I can count past my fingers and toes.’’

The redhead said, ‘‘Lucky you’ve got those extra toes.’’

‘‘What extra . . . ?’’ I went to see what Old Bones wanted. That was a fast review of everything, especially what he’d learned last night, and what he’d have Pe

Vintage Winger.

Lurking Felhske had departed while I slept, but a faint souvenier of his visit hung in the air.

‘‘That’s it?’’

That is it.

Maybe. But I was sure he had done some digging inside my head.

Singe and Ti

I wouldn’t want to be Rose Tate tonight.

I could not believe that the Tates would be dim enough to let Rose get close to money. Though I would’ve thought she was too lazy to be this clever.

Things at the World were calm and under control. Workmen were at work. Rats were down below. John Stretch told me they were finding nothing but bug scraps and broken pupae. Saucerhead’s guys were on patrol outside, cocky because they’d thwarted a feeble raid by some dead-ender Stompers during the night. They’d rounded up the gangster wa

Otherwise, Tharpe’s report was excellent. No inside trouble. No bugs, no freaks, and only a ghost of a ghost, seldom seen. The workmen had found nothing to bitch about yet.

Tharpe told me, ‘‘There was music last night, though. But it was, like, contented. Sleepy. Not that loud, aggravated shit. Hell, it was purring.’’

The workmen were really getting on with it. I had a good feeling as I led Ti

90

Hector wasn’t working the door. I was disappointed. I’d really built him up to Ti

Some kind of bang and crash happened, followed by shouting. Somebody launched a pompous soliloquy. Another voice bellowed, ‘‘No! No! You’re not some lunatic on the steps of the Chancellery! You’re in love! You’re trying to seduce the unseduceable!’’

All became clear once we could see the ballroom that makes up half the Weider hovel’s ground floor.

A small, rude stage had been thrown together across the end whence the service staff comes and goes when the Weiders entertain. Alyx, Bobbi, Lindy Zhang, Cassie Doap, and a guy I didn’t know were clustered onstage, to its right. The ladies weren’t wearing a lot, in a classical sort of style. Winger stood at the left front corner, in junk armor made for somebody smaller than her. She had on an absurd helmet with big-ass shiny metal wings. It was a wonder she kept her head up. She leaned on an oversize spear and looked like her shoes pinched.

Jon Salvation paced between, muttering. He had done the shouting.

Max, Manvil, Heather Soames, Hector, and some household staff formed a small, bewildered audience.

Ti

Singe and I were good boys and girls. We left no muddy melt water on Max’s lovely serpentine floor.