my ear, a vaguely familiar voice on the other end asked, “Is this Tate?”
“Yes,” I replied cautiously. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Quid, of Quid’s Pro Quo.”
“Hey, how’s it going?” I smiled, my memory properly jogged. Quid was the favor broker who had procured a couple of Dodge transmissions for me, which I turned into sculpture for my ill-fated art show.
Quid ignored my attempt at small talk and went right to business. “You remember our deal, right?”
I nodded, even though there was no one with me to see it. “I owe you a favor, no questions asked.”
“And no stories told. Do you still have your welding equipment?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m sending a pony wagon over to your place within the hour. The drover’s an ipotane named Gus—he’ll do the heavy lifting getting the equipment in and out of where you’re going. I’ll be at your destination with the blueprints and raw materials for what you’ll be constructing.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
As I hung up, I ran a mental checklist of what I might possibly need. Since I had no idea what I was expected to fabricate, I decided it would be wise to make sure I had both a welding and a cutting outfit with me. I returned to my studio and changed into the protective welder’s jacket, leather pants, and steel-toed boots I normally wear whenever I work with metal. The jacket’s made of fire-retardant brushed cotton with pigskin leather sleeves, and an upturned welder’s collar that can be snapped shut to keep sparks from flying down my cleavage. It also makes me look badass and sexy. Or so I’ve been told.
I gathered my equipment, including my welding helmet and gloves, into my tool bag and headed back to the kitchen. Since I lacked the magical skills that had tele-ported them upstairs in the first place, I decided I would let the packer handle getting the acetylene and oxygen cylinders out of the house, as they weighed well over a hundred pounds apiece
Hexe was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee as I reentered the kitchen. He arched a purple eyebrow in surprise upon seeing my attire. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be starting work on your new statue?”
“I’m not fabricating my own stuff today,” I replied. “I’m making a house call.” Hexe’s eyebrow rose even higher. “Quid called in his debt,” I explained. “He needs me to do some welding—no questions asked. He’s sending a wagon around to pick up both me and my gear. It should be here any minute now.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “But it’s a safe bet it’ll probably take all day.” A thought suddenly came to me. “What if he wants me to burn open a safe or something?”
“Then that’s what you do,” Hexe replied. “Don’t worry. According to Kymeran law, crimes committed in the repayment of a favor are perfectly legal. At least, as long as they’re committed in Golgotham.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind me going off like this, what with everything that’s going on right now?”
“Go ahead and repay your favor.” Hexe smiled as he kissed me on the cheek. “I’m certain Quid wouldn’t do anything to put you in harm’s way.”
Chapter 9
I t wasn’t long before there was another knock at the door. I opened it to find an ipotane standing on the front step. Like most of his kind, he was stout and barrel-chested, with thick lips and a squat, pushed-in nose, and he walked about on a pair of horse’s legs, the hooves of which were covered in padded booties to muffle their sound and impact on hardwood floors.
“The name’s Gus, short for Augustus. Quid sent me. Where’s the equipment ya need moved, lady?” he asked.
I directed the packer upstairs, and within fifteen minutes Gus managed to transport my welding equipment down two flights of stairs and into the back of a small wagon hitched to a bay centaur colt wearing a Peruvian wool
“Yes,” I replied cautiously. “Who’s this?”
“It’s Quid, of Quid’s Pro Quo.”
“Hey, how’s it going?” I smiled, my memory properly jogged. Quid was the favor broker who had procured a couple of Dodge transmissions for me, which I turned into sculpture for my ill-fated art show.
Quid ignored my attempt at small talk and went right to business. “You remember our deal, right?”
I nodded, even though there was no one with me to see it. “I owe you a favor, no questions asked.”
“And no stories told. Do you still have your welding equipment?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m sending a pony wagon over to your place within the hour. The drover’s an ipotane named Gus—he’ll do the heavy lifting getting the equipment in and out of where you’re going. I’ll be at your destination with the blueprints and raw materials for what you’ll be constructing.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
As I hung up, I ran a mental checklist of what I might possibly need. Since I had no idea what I was expected to fabricate, I decided it would be wise to make sure I had both a welding and a cutting outfit with me. I returned to my studio and changed into the protective welder’s jacket, leather pants, and steel-toed boots I normally wear whenever I work with metal. The jacket’s made of fire-retardant brushed cotton with pigskin leather sleeves, and an upturned welder’s collar that can be snapped shut to keep sparks from flying down my cleavage. It also makes me look badass and sexy. Or so I’ve been told.
I gathered my equipment, including my welding helmet and gloves, into my tool bag and headed back to the kitchen. Since I lacked the magical skills that had tele-ported them upstairs in the first place, I decided I would let the packer handle getting the acetylene and oxygen cylinders out of the house, as they weighed well over a hundred pounds apiece
Hexe was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee as I reentered the kitchen. He arched a purple eyebrow in surprise upon seeing my attire. “Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be starting work on your new statue?”
“I’m not fabricating my own stuff today,” I replied. “I’m making a house call.” Hexe’s eyebrow rose even higher. “Quid called in his debt,” I explained. “He needs me to do some welding—no questions asked. He’s sending a wagon around to pick up both me and my gear. It should be here any minute now.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “But it’s a safe bet it’ll probably take all day.” A thought suddenly came to me. “What if he wants me to burn open a safe or something?”
“Then that’s what you do,” Hexe replied. “Don’t worry. According to Kymeran law, crimes committed in the repayment of a favor are perfectly legal. At least, as long as they’re committed in Golgotham.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mind me going off like this, what with everything that’s going on right now?”
“Go ahead and repay your favor.” Hexe smiled as he kissed me on the cheek. “I’m certain Quid wouldn’t do anything to put you in harm’s way.”
Chapter 9
I t wasn’t long before there was another knock at the door. I opened it to find an ipotane standing on the front step. Like most of his kind, he was stout and barrel-chested, with thick lips and a squat, pushed-in nose, and he walked about on a pair of horse’s legs, the hooves of which were covered in padded booties to muffle their sound and impact on hardwood floors.
“The name’s Gus, short for Augustus. Quid sent me. Where’s the equipment ya need moved, lady?” he asked.
I directed the packer upstairs, and within fifteen minutes Gus managed to transport my welding equipment down two flights of stairs and into the back of a small wagon hitched to a bay centaur colt wearing a Peruvian wool
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