Book 13 - Gilded Latten Bones by Glen Cook Page A

already—if somebody didn’t fix me so I couldn’t.
    Belinda’s doing. Had to be. She thought it was more important for Morley to heal than it was for us to get out and mix it up with villains.
    I was thinking stupid and knew it. And was afraid that just sitting watch over Morley would end up with me hating him.
    Miss Tea invited herself in occasionally. She did not become less antagonistic. Finally, though, she turned up in a less gloomy mood. “The Capa says it’s time to move him. After his supper and evening cleaning. If you need to make special preparations, tell me now.”
    I mentioned a lamb-and-rice dish that I liked, chattered about how I would miss the place that had been home for so long.
    “You’ve been here less than a week.”
    “It feels like so much longer.”
    “It did to us. But you’re just being a wiseass. I have the Capa’s promise that I don’t have to put up with any crap.”
    “Uh-oh.”
    “Exactly. Get your stuff ready. I especially want that arsenal under the bed gone before somebody takes legal notice. The books stay home.”
    “I’ll see if I can’t send up a few that are more interesting.”
    “Now you’re being a dick.”
    “I can’t help it. It’s being cooped up in here.”
    “Now you’re going to blame your personality defects on us, too?”
    Ouch! “Good thing we still love each other.”
    Ghost of a smile. “Will where you’re going be any better?”
    I restrained myself. Maybe not. My responsibilities wouldn’t change. “I don’t know. Come by some time and see.”

25
    As promised, Belinda turned up with several burly henchmen after supper. DeeDee and Crush got Morley back into the rags he was wearing when he showed up. Most of the blood had been scrubbed out. The holes hadn’t been mended. Mixed feelings floated around. DeeDee and Crush were sad to see Morley go, though neither ever exchanged a word with him. Despite all the attitude, Miss Tea was unhappy, too. She turned out the off-duty staff to move Morley and my stuff.
    “A hearse?” I asked Belinda when I got down to the street. “You’re taking him away in a hearse?” Where did she even find one? There can’t be ten in the whole city.
    “Yes. Put on the hat and coat that Joel has for you. Then climb up and take the post position.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Get up on the seat beside the driver. Try to look like a professional.”
    “A professional what?”
    “That’s always the question with you, isn’t it? Move! We don’t have time for games.”
    Four men emerged from the back door of the hook shop. They behaved exactly like men sneaking a corpse out of a place where it shouldn’t be found. I considered leaving Miss Tea with a buss on the cheek and Crush with a promise to visit soon, decided to be more mature, walked away from what would have been signature behavior a few years back. My best pal was on that litter, under that black woolen blanket, and several people, including me, were counting on me to get him where he needed to go with no damage added.
    I hustled over for a costume fitting.
    Joel was a slim hard case with zombie eyes. He put me into a long black coat and a semierect black hat, like a soft cone, nearly a foot tall. With the hat I acquired the long, twisted sideburn curls of the morticians’ guild. The hat had wig elements built in. Joel said, “Quit grab-assing and get up on the post. And, yes, the hat is real. Move!”
    Maybe that was why you never recognize a mortician when he isn’t on duty. He wears a disguise at work.
    The coat cramped my shoulders. It hung to my ankles. The climb to the seat was difficult. The goofy damned hat slipped down into my eyes.
    I settled to brood and nurture my resentment of the man who had overturned my life by getting himself all stabbed up. If the damned fool could’ve skipped that I’d have been snuggling with my favorite redhead.
    The hearse was not a tall wagon, though the seats were high. The driver, seated to my