Book 04 - Old Tin Sorrows by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

loaded up. “Grab an armful and come on.”
    I did both. She shoved through swinging doors into a big pantry, marched through that and out another swinging door.
    The dining room was a dining room. The kind where a guy can entertain three hundred of his closest friends. Most of it was dark. Everybody was seated at one corner table. The decor was standard for the house, armor and edged steel.
    “There,” Cook said. I presumed she meant the empty place. I settled my load on an unused part of the table, sat.
    Wasn’t much of a crowd. Dellwood and Peters and the brunette I’d caught rifling my duffel bag, plus three guys I hadn’t met. And Cook, who planted herself across from me. The General couldn’t make it, apparently. There weren’t any other places set.
    The girl and guys I hadn’t met looked me over. The men looked like retired Marines. Surprise, surprise. The girl looked good. She’d changed into her vamping clothes.
    Garrett, you dog . . . The thought fled. This one gave off something sour. She was radiating the come-and-get-it and my reaction was to back off. Here was trouble on the hoof. What was it Morley said? Don’t never fool around with a woman who’s crazier than you are?
    Maybe I was growing up.
    Sure. And tomorrow morning pigs would be swooping around like swallows.
    I didn’t plan to outgrow
that
for about another six hundred years.
    Peters said, “This is Mike Sexton. He was with me in the islands about ten years back. Mike, Cook.” He indicated the troll-breed woman.
    “We’ve met.”
    “Miss Jennifer, the General’s daughter.”
    “We’ve also met.” I rose and reached across, offering my hand. “Didn’t get the chance before. You had both of yours in my duffel bag.”
    Cook chuckled. Jennifer looked at me like she wondered if I’d taste better roasted or fried.
    “You’ve met Dellwood. Next to him is Cutter Hawkes.”
    Hawkes was too far off to shake. I nodded. He nodded. He was a lean rail of a character with hard gray eyes and a lantern jaw, middle fifties, tough. He looked more like a fire-and-brimstone prophet than an old soldier. Like a guy with the sense of humor of a rock.
    “Art Chain.” The next guy nodded. He had a monster black mustache going gray, not much hair on top, and was thirty pounds over his best weight. His eyes were beads of obsidian. Another character who was allergic to laughter. He didn’t bother to nod. He was so happy to see me he could just shit.
    “Freidel Kaid.” Kaid was older than the General, maybe into his seventies. Lean, slow, one glass eye and the other one that didn’t work too good. His stare was disconcerting because the glass eye didn’t track. But he didn’t look like a man who had spent his whole life trying not to smile. In fact, he put one on for me when Peters said his name. He was the guy I’d seen stoking the fire in the General’s quarters.
    “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sexton.”
    “Likewise, Mr. Kaid.” See? I can be a gentleman. Rumors to the contrary are sour grapes and envy.
    Jennifer didn’t give me a chance to start eating. “What are you doing here?”
    “The General sent for me.” Everybody was interested in me. Nice to be the center of attention sometimes. I have to set the Dead Man on fire just to get him to listen.
    ‘”Why?”
    “Ask him. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
    Her mouth pruned up. Her eyes shot sparks. They were interesting eyes, hungry eyes, but eyes that had been brushed by a darkness. I couldn’t tell if they were green or not. The light wasn’t good enough. An odd one. Maybe unique. A one in a million beauty and not the least attractive.
    “What sort of work do you do, Mr. Sexton?” old Kaid asked.
    “You could call me a diplomat.”
    “A diplomat?” Surprised.
    “Sure. I straighten things out. I get people to change their minds. Kind of like the Corps, only on a small scale. Personal service.”
    Peters shot me a warning look.
    I said, “I enjoy good conversation as much as the next guy. But I’m hungry. And you folks got a