Dead Mans Hand

"I have brought the archer," she said.

"He could hurt us," the watchman said in a deep, surly voice.

"She said to trust him when his word was given." The little Chrysalis turned and looked at Bre

Mystified and bewildered, Bre

"Then enter," the watchman said.

Bre

"She said to trust you. She said you would help," the watchman said from the small platform that had been bolted next to the hidden door's peephole. He was one of the human-looking ones, though his leathery skin hung in folds over his nearly naked body like an overcoat that was six sizes too big.

"Who are you?" Bre

"We were Chrysalis's eyes and ears," the Chrysalis manikin said proudly. "We moved about the city, unseen and undreamed of by the big world, and brought her the news that she was so eager to hear. She gave us a place to live, warm and dry and out of sight." She wiped at a tear that dripped down a crystalline cheek. "But now she is dead."

"It's you," Bre

"That's right," the tiny Chrysalis said. "We only tried to help. We stopped when we realized that we were confusing and hurting you. We were only trying to help you find out who murdered our lady. We tried to help the detective, too, but he only called us names and chased us."

"Then you don't know who killed her?" Bre

Bre

"She would come and knock and we would let her in. Then we would tell stories of what we'd seen, what we'd learned in our hiding places in the world outside. She would bring food and drink and we would eat as she wrote things down. Once she never came for months. We wrote ourselves, but it was no fun without the lady."

"Where?" Bre

The tiny joker pointed a tiny finger to the chamber at the end of the corridor.

More of the tribe were in the hallway, watching Bre

The chamber was simply furnished with a comfortable chair, an antique desk, and a Tiffany lamp. Notebooks and binders and stacks of paper cluttered the desk. As Bre

Bre

"She didn't need a computer," the Chrysalis manikin told Bre

"Mother?"

The manikin nodded and pointed. Bre

There was a wall of flesh growing over a trestle against the back wall. It was gray and pink and purple and pulsated with a rippling rhythm, like a swimming manta ray. It was totally featureless. A dozen or so of the manikins hung from or clung to the flesh. Some were clearly attached to the thing, growing from cords attached to their heads, limbs, or stomachs. Others were just nestling against it as if for security or comfort.

"What is it?" Bre

"Mother," the little Chrysalis said. "We are her children. She ca

"She can't talk?" Bre

The homuncula shook her head. "Only through her children."

Bre

"Through us. Or," she said, "you might find what you're looking for in the Lady's journal."

"Her journal?" Somehow that sounded easier than dealing with Mother. And she was there for questioning if the journal didn't pan out. "Where is it?"

"Right there," the homuncula said, pointing at a leatherbound volume sitting on top of the cluttered desk.

As Bre

There was loud chittering and many of the homunculi ran for the dark corners of the room as Fadeout materialized, pointing a pistol at Bre

"Surprise, surprise!" he said, gri

10:00 P.M.

The park was as hot and humid as a hooker's mouth. Fires burned everywhere, and shouts and snatches of song echoed through the trees as they wandered from tent to tent, from campfire to campfire, looking for Sascha.

In this hour, this night of triumph, even supposed nats like he and Blaise were welcome. Everywhere they went, jokers shook their hands and slapped them on the back. Drinks were being thrust at them every time they turned around; Hartma

Jay wondered how they'd feel the morning they all woke up and realized that somehow Camelot had turned into Mordor.

"I want to go back to the hotel," Blaise whined yet again. "This is bor-ring."

"Hey," Jay told him, "this is history in the making. Look around. Taste it. Smell it."

Blaise sniffed the air suspiciously. "That's just beer," he said. "Beer and piss."

Jay had to laugh; that sounded like one of his lines. "Maybe you'll make a PI yet, kid."

"I'm tired of all these stupid jokers," Blaise said. "You should let me mind-control them. I bet they're just lying to you, I bet they all know Sascha. I could make them tell us."