to popular imagining I’m not a law unto myself. I’m one tree in a forest of hierarchy.” “A tall tree.” He smiled. “Yes. A tall one. But only one. I’ll have to consult my peers and ask for a policy decision. Bear with me a few hours. If they want to pursue this I’ll give you the information at my disposal. Whatever the decision, I’ll be in touch. I’ll see you’re compensated for what you’ve already done.” How very thoughtful of him. How did such a nice guy get such a nasty reputation? He was being nice because he wanted something he couldn’t get by tossing me into a cell and pulling my nails. I said, “I have to get moving on my own hunt.” “I’ll get in touch at your home. Before you go—” I interrupted. “The name Jill Craight mean anything to you?” “No. Should it?” “I don’t know. Pokey died in an apartment occupied by a Jill Craight.” “I see. Would you hold on a minute?” He opened a cabinet. “I don’t want to lose another man. I want you to take something as a hedge against the kind of surprises that got Pigotta.” He pawed around amongst several hundred small bottles and phials, selected three. He placed those on the table, three colorful soldiers all in a row: royal blue, ruby, and emerald. Each bottle was two inches tall. Each had a cork stopper. He said, “The ultimate product of my art. Use the blue where maximum confusion would benefit you. Use the green where death is your only other out. Break the bottles or just unstop them. That doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath, lifted the red bottle carefully. “This is the heavyweight. Be careful. It’s deadly. Throw it against a hard surface at least fifty feet away. You don’t want to be any closer. Run if you have the chance. Got that?” I nodded. “Be careful. Twenty years from now I want to tip one with you and reminisce about the bad old days.” “Careful is my middle name, Magister.” I put the bottles away gingerly, where I could grab them in a hurry. Garrett never argues with a gift horse. I can always deal it to the glue works. I sneaked a peek at his cabinet. What could those other bottles do? They came in every color. “Thanks. I can find my way out.” I shot my final question as I neared the door. “You ever hear of a cult that cuts its members? Takes all their equipment, not just their testicles?” He blanched. I mean, he really turned white. For a second I thought his hair would change. But he showed no other reaction. He lied, “No. That’s grisly. Is it important?” Lie to me, I’ll lie to you. “No. It came up in a bull session the other night. The weather was pretty drunk out. Somebody heard something like that from somebody who heard something about it from somebody else. You know how that goes. You can’t trace the source.” “Yes. Good day, Mr. Garrett.” Suddenly he wanted me out of there. “Good day, Magister.” I closed the door behind me. Smiling Sampson was right there to make sure I had no trouble finding the street.
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22 A drizzle had started. The breeze had freshened. I put my head down and walked into it, grumbling. I wouldn’t be out in this if the world would learn to leave me alone. How thoughtless of it. Head down with not much going on inside—some would say that’s the normal state of my bean—I trudged toward that small district beyond the Hill where both city and Crown maintain their civil offices. I hoped the Royal Assay people could tell me what Peridont wouldn’t. He had recognized the coins. I didn’t believe much of what he’d told me—though some of it might have been true. I disbelieved only selectively. I took nothing at face. Everywhere I turned religion popped up, and that’s a game of masks and deceits and illusions if ever there was one. My course took me within a block of the Blue Bottle, where curiosities Smith and Smith had holed up. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by, see what Maya had missed. The