Wicked Bronze Ambition: A Garrett, P.I., Novel by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online

degrees from everything that had gone before.
    I had just stopped shaking my head when Helenia appeared outside Relway’s den. The Director called his failed gatekeeper off, beckoned Helenia into his presence. Helenia gave me a scared, sad sort of look as she scuttled to her boss, bent, put a hand to his ear, whispered busily.
    Them being near each other made me wonder if her unusual assembly specs might not be a result of the same rowdy raids on the family tree that had produced Deal Relway himself.
    Toneless, he said, “Shit,” language so uncharacteristic that it was as startling as a scream. He tried to appear blank when he faced me, but I could tell that something was wrong. Something was most definitely wrong.
    “What?” I demanded.
    Relway sucked in several gallons of air. “No beating around it. Never actually softens it. Furious Tide of Light has been killed.”
    Huh?
    It was like . . . Like nothing. No. That couldn’t be true. That couldn’t happen. Why was he messing with me?
    “What?” Like I might have heard him wrong? Like I had heard him from way off in another universe? Or something. He was saying something improbable, so something impossible had to be happening. “I don’t get . . . I didn’t get . . . That can’t be.” Head on down to the bottom line of what everybody knows. People can’t get close enough to a sorceress like Strafa to actually hurt her. “Killed?”
    “Attacked and killed. On the street in front of her house.”
    Ambush? I knew the perfect place and time. Right when you were fiddling with the pedestrian gate, going into the property. Only . . . What would Strafa be doing going through the gate? She would have been airborne when she arrived home.
    “There isn’t anything more yet. But she wasn’t alone. The woman she was with was injured badly but survived.”
    “But she may not last,” Helenia added, staring hard at the dirty stone floor, probably distracting herself from the intensity of the moment by making cleaning plans. “We will have more information soon.”
    Of course. An attack on someone from the Hill, especially of Strafa’s stature, would make the Guard drop most everything.
    I had gone numb emotionally. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do. This was a twist beyond imagination. I had seen some harsh times, especially during the war, but I’d never been smacked between the eyes by something as sudden and evil and unexpected as this. Even when Mom left us, the process had taken a while. There had been time to hone my emotional defenses.
    For no special reason I recalled civilians sitting among the ruins of their homes and lives, surrounded by the desolation the people and stuff of those lives had become once the fighting swept through their part the world. Lost souls, every one, every time.
    I tried to remember that we humans are resilient. Most of those people came back, eventually.
    I tried, but at the moment had little inclination to believe.
    “Garrett.”
    “Uh. Unh?”
    “You should go out there, find out what really happened. The reports might be mistaken.”
    Early reports often are. Usually are. Yes! That might be . . .
    There had been no mistake. I knew that right down to the core of my soul. “Yeah. I guess.” But I did not get up. I put on my best thousand-yard stare and just sat there, mind empty.
    “There might be something you can do. Familywise,” he amended, since it was too late to help Strafa.
    My response must have seemed too-long delayed. “Yeah. Maybe.” I did get up then, still focused only on what was happening on the far side of the horizon.
    Relway said, “Helenia, find Target. Tell him to bring Womble. Wait up, Garrett. I’ll send some people with you. This may turn out to be a job for my section.”
    I held up. Even rattled and numb I realized that he wanted to look out for me. But in that state I would just do what I was told, slowly, or I would do nothing at all. I had learned that