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Miss Grünstrasse changed approach. “You have barely touched your wine, Mr. Garrett. Is there a problem? The publican assured me that it is the finest vintage TunFaire offers.”
“He would be correct, too, but I’m a beer snob.” The modern obsession with spoiled grape juice is inexplicable. As someone once observed, beer is proof that the gods don’t always get off on tormenting us.
“Beer, sir? I understand that TunFaire is famed for the variety and quality of its brews. Have you a favorite?”
Why not be difficult? “Weider Wheat with a blackberry finish.”
“Eliza, see what Squattle has available.”
The blonde inclined her head, rose, and left the suite as though driven by clockwork. I asked, “What’s the story with her? Is she even human?”
“Oh, yes. She is, sir. Yes, indeed. Just quite serious. My niece. My intern, as well. Completing her elementary training. A remarkable child. Brilliant beyond her years. She will become one of the greats.” Aside, “What is this, girl?”
Penny had set a plate in front of her. “A pumpkin spice turnover, ma’am. Specialty of the Benbow.” She served me and Singe. Bottle followed with a cloth bag from which he squeezed a rum-based syrup.
Penny asked, “Should we ready one for the young miss, ma’am?”
Miss Grünstrasse was disgruntled. She was not accustomed to being a common “ma’am.” “Keep it in the warmer. She may not want it. She doesn’t eat many sweets.”
I asked about Ryzna, Venageta, and the Shadow. Miss Grünstrasse evaded or tried to sell me on the sheer marvel of helping reclaim her missing gimcrack.
“Do we have an understanding, Mr. Garrett?”
“I haven’t heard a word about potential benefits to me and mine. Other than this fine dinner.”
She was not pleased. That was not the response that was her due. “Very well, sir. Very well. I do have to remember that I am outside that realm where my wishes have the weight of law. Very well. Bring me the Shadow and I will pay you an eight-hundred-noble finder’s fee.” She raised a hand to forestall the remark she expected. “Genuine Full Harbor trade nobles, not the fairy gold of the Rose Purple’s will-o’-the-wisp promise.”
I remained unconvinced. I looked unconvinced.
“Come with me, then, sir. Come with me.” She got up, beckoned like someone Eliza’s age eager to show a friend a secret.
I followed reluctantly, and got more reluctant when she headed into an unlighted bedroom. A light did come up momentarily, though. I glanced back. Boy, girl, and ratwoman looked puzzled but alert.
“Come along, Mr. Garrett. I promise not to test your virtue.”
She had a sense of humor?
I relaxed a little.
“Do close the door, though. In case my niece returns. I would rather she remained unaware of this.”
“Does she speak or understand Karentine?” Lacking a knowledge of the language might explain her disinterest in communication.
“Not that I am aware of, sir. But the child is full of surprises. Lend a hand, will you?”
She wanted a trunk dragged out from under the unmade bed. The bedding smelled like Miss Grünstrasse, only worse. I couldn’t help wondering if she wasn’t suffering from something malignant.
We swung the trunk onto the bed. She said, “Step away while I work the combination.”
The latch of the trunk glimmered with a tangle of lethal spells.
I wondered if those who mattered knew we had a foreign heavyweight among us. A Venageti heavyweight who, likely, had survived our Hill folk in the Cantard.
“The war is over, Mr. Garrett. And my mission now is more important than any vengeance.” She opened the trunk and removed a tray filling two-thirds of the trunk’s depth. Beneath lay silver coins, rank against rank, side to side, standing on edge. Hundreds and hundreds. There was gold, too, but she hadn’t offered me gold.
Eight hundred nobles is a lot of money. And this was the real magilla.
“Take a coin. Any coin. Test it.”
