down
or—”
“Then we’ll just have to ask somebody, won’t
we?
Yo!” he shouted at a gardener clipping a hedge.
“What’s the name of the guy we’re looking for,
Garrett?” The gardener stopped working and gave us the
fisheye. He looked like a real friendly type. Poison you with his
smile.
“Klaus Kronk.” The first name was pronounced
claws
with a soft sibilant, but Morley took it for a
nickname.
He climbed down and approached the gardener. “Tell me, my
good fellow, where can we find the Syndic Claws Kronk?”
The good fellow gave him a puzzled look that turned into a
sneer. “Let’s see the color of your metal,
darko.”
Morley calmly picked him up and chucked him over his hedge,
hopped over after him and tossed him back, thumped on him a little,
twisted limbs and made him groan, then said, “Tell me, my
good fellow, where can we find the Syndic Claws Kronk?” He
wasn’t even breathing hard.
The gardener decided that at least one of us was a psychopath.
He stammered directions.
“Thank you,” Morley said. “You have been most
gracious and helpful. In token of my appreciation I hope you will
accept this small gratuity.” He dropped a couple of coins
into the man’s palm, closed his fingers over them, then
rejoined me aboard our conveyance. “Take the first left and
go all the way to the top of the hill.”
I glanced back at the gardener, still seated beside the lane. A
glint of mischief sparked in his swelling eyes.
“You think it’s wise to make enemies out here,
Morley?”
“We won’t get any comebacks from him. He thinks
I’m crazy.”
“I can’t imagine why anybody would think that about
you, Morley.”
We had only one turn left to make. A cemetery flanked both sides
of the road. “You know where you are now?” Morley
asked. “A landmark like this ought to be plenty
memorable.”
“More memorable than you know. I think our gardener friend
got us. We’ll see in a minute.” I turned between the
red granite pillars that flanked the entrance to the Kronk family
plot.
“He’s dead?”
“We’re about to find out.”
He was. His was the last name incised in the stone of the
obelisk in the center of the plot. “Got it during the last
Venageti incursion, judging from the date,” I said.
“Fits what I remember about him, too. He would get out and
howl for Karenta.”
“What do we do now?”
“I guess we look for the rest of the family. He’s
the only one who’s established residence here.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“I can find my way from here. Kayean and I used to walk up
here at night to, uh . . . ”
“In a graveyard?”
“Nothing like tombstones to remind you how little time you
have for the finer things in life.”
“You humans are weird, Garrett. If you want an
aphrodisiac, there’s one that the sidhe tribes of the Benecel
river basin make from the roots of something like a potato plant.
It’ll keep your soldier at attention for hours. Not only
that, but when you use it you’re guaranteed there’s no
way you’re going to become a papa.”
Vegetarian sexual aids? Some people take good things too
far.
----
----
22
Starting from the cemetery I was able to find the Kronk place
with only one miscue. From the lane the place next door looked more
like the one I remembered than the correct one. We were partway up
the flagstones when I spied the peacock cages under the
magnolias.
“About turn and march,” I said. “One house shy
of our mark.” I recalled how, if Kayean was not very careful
sneaking in and out, those peafowl would raise six kinds of hell
and there went the evening if it happened on the sneak-out side.
Her old man knew what was going on but was never quick enough to
catch her. She had been fast on her feet.
I explained that to Morley as we retreated to the lane.
“How the hell did a slob like you ever meet a quail living
in a place like this?”
“I met her at a party for bachelor officers the admiral
put on. All the
or—”
“Then we’ll just have to ask somebody, won’t
we?
Yo!” he shouted at a gardener clipping a hedge.
“What’s the name of the guy we’re looking for,
Garrett?” The gardener stopped working and gave us the
fisheye. He looked like a real friendly type. Poison you with his
smile.
“Klaus Kronk.” The first name was pronounced
claws
with a soft sibilant, but Morley took it for a
nickname.
He climbed down and approached the gardener. “Tell me, my
good fellow, where can we find the Syndic Claws Kronk?”
The good fellow gave him a puzzled look that turned into a
sneer. “Let’s see the color of your metal,
darko.”
Morley calmly picked him up and chucked him over his hedge,
hopped over after him and tossed him back, thumped on him a little,
twisted limbs and made him groan, then said, “Tell me, my
good fellow, where can we find the Syndic Claws Kronk?” He
wasn’t even breathing hard.
The gardener decided that at least one of us was a psychopath.
He stammered directions.
“Thank you,” Morley said. “You have been most
gracious and helpful. In token of my appreciation I hope you will
accept this small gratuity.” He dropped a couple of coins
into the man’s palm, closed his fingers over them, then
rejoined me aboard our conveyance. “Take the first left and
go all the way to the top of the hill.”
I glanced back at the gardener, still seated beside the lane. A
glint of mischief sparked in his swelling eyes.
“You think it’s wise to make enemies out here,
Morley?”
“We won’t get any comebacks from him. He thinks
I’m crazy.”
“I can’t imagine why anybody would think that about
you, Morley.”
We had only one turn left to make. A cemetery flanked both sides
of the road. “You know where you are now?” Morley
asked. “A landmark like this ought to be plenty
memorable.”
“More memorable than you know. I think our gardener friend
got us. We’ll see in a minute.” I turned between the
red granite pillars that flanked the entrance to the Kronk family
plot.
“He’s dead?”
“We’re about to find out.”
He was. His was the last name incised in the stone of the
obelisk in the center of the plot. “Got it during the last
Venageti incursion, judging from the date,” I said.
“Fits what I remember about him, too. He would get out and
howl for Karenta.”
“What do we do now?”
“I guess we look for the rest of the family. He’s
the only one who’s established residence here.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
“I can find my way from here. Kayean and I used to walk up
here at night to, uh . . . ”
“In a graveyard?”
“Nothing like tombstones to remind you how little time you
have for the finer things in life.”
“You humans are weird, Garrett. If you want an
aphrodisiac, there’s one that the sidhe tribes of the Benecel
river basin make from the roots of something like a potato plant.
It’ll keep your soldier at attention for hours. Not only
that, but when you use it you’re guaranteed there’s no
way you’re going to become a papa.”
Vegetarian sexual aids? Some people take good things too
far.
----
----
22
Starting from the cemetery I was able to find the Kronk place
with only one miscue. From the lane the place next door looked more
like the one I remembered than the correct one. We were partway up
the flagstones when I spied the peacock cages under the
magnolias.
“About turn and march,” I said. “One house shy
of our mark.” I recalled how, if Kayean was not very careful
sneaking in and out, those peafowl would raise six kinds of hell
and there went the evening if it happened on the sneak-out side.
Her old man knew what was going on but was never quick enough to
catch her. She had been fast on her feet.
I explained that to Morley as we retreated to the lane.
“How the hell did a slob like you ever meet a quail living
in a place like this?”
“I met her at a party for bachelor officers the admiral
put on. All the
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