Read Book 08 - Petty Pewter Gods for Free Online Page B

worth thinking about. My weirdest case yet.
Great for my references later.” I had to get out without
making commitments. I knew I could not get away with a flat no.
    “There’s a time limit, Garrett. The sands are
running already. We have maybe another hundred hours.”
    Gah. “What happens if nobody finds the key?”
    “These southern immigrants could bring more gods than
Antitibet.”
    “Everybody loses?”
    “It has happened before.”
    “Let’s talk money, then.”
    Her face tightened. Prospective clients never want to talk about
money.
    I told her, “I have a household to support. The usual
story stuff—like maybe a night with Star, like a night in Elf
Hill, wonderful as that might be—won’t put food on the
table.”
----

10
    “I have hovered above a thousand battlefields, Garrett. I
can tell you where the treasure of a hundred vanquished armies are
hidden.”
    Handy trick. “Excellent. Then clue me about one small one
that’s close by.”
    Her green began to rise. But she nodded abruptly. “Very
well. The workman is worthy of his hire. And it is necessary that
we trust one another. There is no time for anything else.”
She stalked across the room, bad Magodor becoming luscious Maggie
as she walked. My instinctual side was adequately impressed.
“Come see, Garrett.”
    She indicated a hand mirror on the room’s small
mantelpiece. There was nothing mystical about it. The dwarves
produce them by the thousands. Maggie passed a hand over the metal
in a circular motion, as though polishing it. A mist formed between
her hand and the metal. That faded. The mirror no longer reflected
here and now.
    Woodland scene with men who rode desperately, low upon the necks
of lathered horses. Arrows fell around them. A rider fell. The rest
swept on into forest so dense their horses could make little
headway. The riders dismounted and fled on foot. One led them to a
trail hidden in the growth.
    “Amis the Third. In flight from the uprising masterminded
by his brother Alis. He failed to make proper sacrifices. We turned
our eyes away. We were strong in those times. Here. This is the
treasure they were able to carry away. They buried it in a
badger’s den. It is still there.” Her hand made that
wiping motion again. The view backed off enough to give me a good
idea where to look. Then the view changed.
    Now the fugitives were cornered. Their guide had led them into a
trap. Their pursuers showed no mercy.
    “That’s inside the wall now, isn’t
it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Wonderful. That will do for a retainer if it’s
still there.”
    “I wouldn’t have chosen something that wasn’t.
One thing more.” She took a cord from around her waist, a
cord that had not been visible till she unwound it. It was four
feet long. She wrapped one end around her left hand once, let the
cord dangle from between thumb and forefinger, drew the thumb and
forefinger of her right hand along the length of the cord.
    The cord became as stiff as an arrow. “Neat
trick.”
    She jabbed it, swordlike, right into my breadbasket.
    “Oof!” said I.
    “Had I pinched the end down into a point, so, it would
have gone through you.”
    “Uhm.”
    She swung the cord, hit me on the left elbow. Right on the
funnybone. I said something like, “Yeow! Oh shining wondrous
mudsuckers fingushing wowzgoggle! That hurts!”
    “Pain is the best teacher. Watch.” She reversed her
fingerwork. The cord fell limp. She was a lefty. I was not
surprised. Most artists and sorcerers I run into seem to be. So are
most of the more successful villains. The really stupid bad guys,
the kind who try to get in somewhere by sliding down the chimney
without checking first to see if there is a fire burning, are
always righties. But I am not a lefty myself, so not all righties
are dumb.
    Magodor grabbed the middle of the cord and pulled. It kept
getting longer. “Just like this, Garrett. Hands extended,
level, palms up, heels of your hands together. Pull outward from
the