Petty Pewter Gods by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

She wore a homespun kind of thing that would have looked better cut up and sewed up and used to dress large batches of potatos. From what I could see she lacked legs and feet. Her skirts were that long. She made me think of a younger version of Imar’s wife, Imara.
    She moved cautiously, as though she knew I had turned. She eased past not ten feet away. I held my breath. It was obvious she could not see me. It was just as obvious that she felt I was real close. She had the heebie-jeebies. I restrained my boyish side and didn’t yell “Boo!” I studied her but didn’t come up with a clue. She might be some nightmare in disguise. Whatever, she was no smouldering redhead.
    She seemed human. Do devils get the heebie-jeebies?
    She decided to get the hell out of there before bad things happened. Which suggested that bad things could. But that might only be because she was Shayir and knew something unpleasant about the Godoroth.
    Some surprise that would be.
    I do a good tail. I decided to put off seeing the Dead Man, and suffering his wisdom, long enough to see where this mouse ran. I spotted her a lead.
    I discovered that becoming invisible imposes limitations. Like I was enclosed inside some kind of sack I could see through. There was plenty of air in there with me. The walls of the sack didn’t collapse. It was like being inside a big, floppy bubble that wobbled and tangled and toppled when you moved. You could get around, but you had to be careful. If you got in a hurry, you stumbled and rolled downhill into a soggy low spot. The bag didn’t keep water from soaking your knees and elbows.
    Rorjfrazzle! Mirking sludglup! Everything just has to have a down side.
    Or three. It took me ten minutes to get back out of the sack. The loop in the cord has to line up with the closed hole just right. If you have been moving around, you probably didn’t keep track of where that hole went. Rotten racklefratz!
    As I stumbled out and crawled away and started undoing my bowline, I realized that the tittering above wasn’t the gossip of sparrows. A tiny voice only inches overhead piped, “We seen what you done. We seen what you done.”
    A pixie colony inhabited the grove. Now that they were bouncing around and giggling they were obvious. I hadn’t noticed a thing when they were silent.
    I didn’t commence my rebuttal till I was safely away from any branch likely to serve as an aerial outhouse.
     
     

12
    I headed for my house. The girl was long gone.
    Used to be whenever I was out I had to knock so Dean would let me in. Before he left town he looted my savings to have a key lock installed so I could let myself in. Being a bright boy, I had my key with me. I used it.
    The door opened an inch and stopped. Dean had the chain on.
    I closed the door gently, took a moment to collect myself, knocked briskly. The Goddamn Parrot started up inside. O Wonder of Horrors, the little vulture had made it home on his own. I tried to avoid worrying about what kind of omen that might be.
    I stepped back while I waited, studied the face of my house. It was a very dark brown, built of rough brick. I saw several places where the mortar needed tuck-pointing. The upstairs window trim needed fresh paint. Might be a job for Saucerhead some time when he wasn’t tied up cracking skulls.
    “Damn it, Dean! Come on! If you’ve had a heart attack and I’ve got to bust the door down I’m gonna break your legs.”
    There was a horrendous squawl behind me. I whirled. A huge, ugly ogre had gotten too near a donkey cart. A wheel had crushed his toes. He was bounding around on one foot offering to whip all comers.
    “Ah, shuddup!” an old granny lady advised. She hooked the heel of his good foot with the crook of her umbrella. He went down hard. Ogres are solid-bottomed fellows, as a rule. This one was no exception. His breath deserted him in a mighty whoof. The cobblestones buckled. I might have a traffic hazard out front for months now. Maybe years. Who knew