impatient. He had no time to play. When he is in a mood
like that it is best to humor him.
The Goddamn Parrot offered me a black look but only nibbled my
fingers once when I moved him from his perch to my shoulder. Hell
if I would tie him down. Anytime he wanted to escape I would stand
there grinning and waving bye-bye. But I knew how my luck would run
already. Just like before, he would beat me home.
“I need an eye patch and an earring,” I muttered.
“Yo ho ho.”
----
14
I stood on the stoop wishing for a beard to go with the earring
and eye patch. I growled, “Argh! Prepare to repel
boarders.”
T. G. Parrot squawked, “Awk! Shiver me timbers!”
I tried to give him my best jaundiced look, but he
couldn’t get the full benefit perched as he was on my
shoulder.
Neighborhood kids materialized out of the crowd. “Can we
feed your parrot, Mr. Garrett?”
“Yeah. To one of those flying thunder lizards.” A
pair were circling high above, shopping for plump pigeons.
The kids didn’t get it. Short attention spans, I guess. It
had been a while since their elders had worried about trouble with
thunder lizards. Now we had centaur infestations and whatnot.
As my old Aunt Boo used to say, “It’s always
something.”
I looked up the street. Mrs. Cardonlos was out watching. I
waved. Always a neighborly smile, that Mr. Garrett. It drove her
crazy. Made her
sure
I was up to no good.
I’d barely entered the crowd when Dean left the house. He
was pale. He didn’t look at me. He headed downhill, toward
Morley’s Joy House, which now masquerades as The Palms.
I went the other way, amidst the fastest traffic. I didn’t
make much effort to see if I was followed. If I had gods on my case
they would have resources better than mine. I headed where I had to
go, wondering why the Dead Man was taking this so seriously.
I think I was followed by the same woman, only now she seemed
taller and had a fall of white on the right side of otherwise raven
hair that hung quite long. I didn’t get a good look at her
clothing, but it had a foreign air.
The Royal Library has a side entrance that isn’t well
known to those without friends inside. You do have to slip past an
ancient guard who uses his job to catch up on naps he lost while he
was off to war. Once he is behind you, all you have to do is avoid
notice by the senior librarian. That isn’t hard, either. She
is ancient and slow and stumbles into things when she is moving
around. Once you are inside, you have to decide whether to see your
friend or load up with rare books to sell.
Turned out that was the way it used to be. Changes had been
made. All my fault for returning the stolen books I had happened
upon the other day.
The old man had been replaced. A hard young veteran manned his
desk. He was snoring. A liquor bottle dangled from his hand. Sneaky
was wasted on him. I was tempted to leave the parrot on his
shoulder. Let him wake up and find himself infested. He
wouldn’t take another drink for hours.
I resisted. We must not dishonor our public servants.
I found Linda Lee in the stacks, peering intently at worn and
flaky leather spines. She had a stylus in her mouth, bitten
crosswise. She carried a wax note tablet and a small lantern. Her
sleek brown hair was pulled back in an old maid’s bun and,
damn me, a few gray hairs showed on her temple. She might have a
few years she hadn’t mentioned.
Even so, she was the cutest bookworm I’d ever seen.
I asked, “What do you do when you have to make a
note?”
She jumped. She whirled. Sparks danced in her eyes. I never knew
how she was going to greet me. “What the hell are you doing
here?” She had no trouble talking around the stylus.
“Looking for you.”
“Can’t get a date?”
“It’s professional this
time . . . ” There you go shoving one of
those big old dirty hooves of yours right down your throat,
Garrett. You slick talker. “My mouth just won’t say
what me head tells it to
like that it is best to humor him.
The Goddamn Parrot offered me a black look but only nibbled my
fingers once when I moved him from his perch to my shoulder. Hell
if I would tie him down. Anytime he wanted to escape I would stand
there grinning and waving bye-bye. But I knew how my luck would run
already. Just like before, he would beat me home.
“I need an eye patch and an earring,” I muttered.
“Yo ho ho.”
----
14
I stood on the stoop wishing for a beard to go with the earring
and eye patch. I growled, “Argh! Prepare to repel
boarders.”
T. G. Parrot squawked, “Awk! Shiver me timbers!”
I tried to give him my best jaundiced look, but he
couldn’t get the full benefit perched as he was on my
shoulder.
Neighborhood kids materialized out of the crowd. “Can we
feed your parrot, Mr. Garrett?”
“Yeah. To one of those flying thunder lizards.” A
pair were circling high above, shopping for plump pigeons.
The kids didn’t get it. Short attention spans, I guess. It
had been a while since their elders had worried about trouble with
thunder lizards. Now we had centaur infestations and whatnot.
As my old Aunt Boo used to say, “It’s always
something.”
I looked up the street. Mrs. Cardonlos was out watching. I
waved. Always a neighborly smile, that Mr. Garrett. It drove her
crazy. Made her
sure
I was up to no good.
I’d barely entered the crowd when Dean left the house. He
was pale. He didn’t look at me. He headed downhill, toward
Morley’s Joy House, which now masquerades as The Palms.
I went the other way, amidst the fastest traffic. I didn’t
make much effort to see if I was followed. If I had gods on my case
they would have resources better than mine. I headed where I had to
go, wondering why the Dead Man was taking this so seriously.
I think I was followed by the same woman, only now she seemed
taller and had a fall of white on the right side of otherwise raven
hair that hung quite long. I didn’t get a good look at her
clothing, but it had a foreign air.
The Royal Library has a side entrance that isn’t well
known to those without friends inside. You do have to slip past an
ancient guard who uses his job to catch up on naps he lost while he
was off to war. Once he is behind you, all you have to do is avoid
notice by the senior librarian. That isn’t hard, either. She
is ancient and slow and stumbles into things when she is moving
around. Once you are inside, you have to decide whether to see your
friend or load up with rare books to sell.
Turned out that was the way it used to be. Changes had been
made. All my fault for returning the stolen books I had happened
upon the other day.
The old man had been replaced. A hard young veteran manned his
desk. He was snoring. A liquor bottle dangled from his hand. Sneaky
was wasted on him. I was tempted to leave the parrot on his
shoulder. Let him wake up and find himself infested. He
wouldn’t take another drink for hours.
I resisted. We must not dishonor our public servants.
I found Linda Lee in the stacks, peering intently at worn and
flaky leather spines. She had a stylus in her mouth, bitten
crosswise. She carried a wax note tablet and a small lantern. Her
sleek brown hair was pulled back in an old maid’s bun and,
damn me, a few gray hairs showed on her temple. She might have a
few years she hadn’t mentioned.
Even so, she was the cutest bookworm I’d ever seen.
I asked, “What do you do when you have to make a
note?”
She jumped. She whirled. Sparks danced in her eyes. I never knew
how she was going to greet me. “What the hell are you doing
here?” She had no trouble talking around the stylus.
“Looking for you.”
“Can’t get a date?”
“It’s professional this
time . . . ” There you go shoving one of
those big old dirty hooves of yours right down your throat,
Garrett. You slick talker. “My mouth just won’t say
what me head tells it to
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