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“We were hoping you might take us to the old Roman,” Delon says.
Hattie shakes her head.
“Can’t. It’s not in our territory. It’s the Shoggots’ and we don’t go in there. Hell, we don’t even like to trade with them.”
Diogo has noticed that Vidocq is still holding a vial in one hand. He points to it with a knife and Vidocq gives it to him with a smile. He shakes it and sniffs. Opens the top and gets a face full of acrid white smoke. We’re all choking and coughing by the time the idiot gets the stopper back in.
Hattie looks at our gagging group and says, “I was just telling this gentleman how we don’t like trading with the Shoggots, except some of the more gullible among us do, don’t we, Diogo?”
He waves away some smoke and smiles at her.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Those swords and knives the boys like to show off. Trust me, they don’t have the wit among them to make something like that. That’s Shoggot work. They’re good makers. Especially sharp things.”
“Maybe you could take us to meet them,” says Delon.
She raises her eyebrows.
“When I called you a fool earlier, I meant it figuratively. Now you’re making me think I might have a been a bit too generous.”
“But you know how to contact them.”
“Why would I do that?”
Delon reaches into his bag and pulls out another small bottle.
“Salt distilled from the River Gihon in Third Heaven, which cures all poisons.”
Hattie takes it from him and holds it up to the light. Satisfied with what she sees, she puts it in her pocket with the Tears.
“What else have you got in that bag?” she says.
“Nothing that would interest a lady like you.”
“Really? Why don’t I have my boys take it and chuck you all over the balcony.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I say.
Hattie turns to me.
“Which one of these assholes do you like the least? I’ll do you a favor and kill him first.”
Diogo takes a step toward me, but Hattie stops him with a short wave.
“This one looked like bad news from the moment I saw him. What’s wrong with his face? No one brings a man like that along who isn’t looking for trouble.”
“Not with you,” Delon says. “Sometimes we don’t get to pick and choose who we deal with, do we? Like you and the Shoggots. He’s my Shoggot.”
Hattie gives a short, snorting laugh that ends in ragged coughs.
“Here I was feeling sorry for us and you’ve got to haul around your own monster. Look at him. He’d like to put a knife into your back right now.”
I shrug.
“Nothing personal. I always want to stab someone.”
“This motley crew looks like more trouble than they’re worth,” says Hattie. “Give them to the Shoggots. May they choke on each other.”
