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Denny rode over most of the Cantard, chasing or running away from the Venageti. We both made
sergeant before we got out.
It was a nasty war. It still is. I like it better now that it's much farther away.
Denny saw more of the worst than I did. The fighting at sea and in the islands was sideshow stuff.
Neither we nor the Venageti wasted wizards on it. All the flash and fury of sorcery got saved for the
struggle on the mainland.
Anyway, we'd both survived our five, and had done part of them in the same general area, and that
had given us something in common when we met. It was good enough till we got to know one another.
"So that's why you're a walking arsenal. What is it? A vendetta? Maybe you'd better get inside."
Rose cackled like a hen laying a square egg.
Uncle Lester laughed too, but it was a laugh of a different breed. "Shut up, Rosie. I'm sorry, Mr.
Garrett. The weapons are here to feed Rosie's hunger for drama. She believes we don't dare enter
this neighborhood unarmed lest the local thugs ravish her."
It was not a good dawn for me. Few of them are. Without thinking, I cracked, "The thugs in my
neighborhood have some taste. She doesn't have to worry." Blame it on the hangover.
Uncle Lester grinned. Rose looked at me like I was dog flop she wanted off her shoe.
I tried to gloss over with business. "Who did it? What can I do about it?"
"Nobody did it," Rose told me. "He fell off a horse and busted his head, his neck, and about ten other
bones."
"Hard to believe a skilled horseman could go that way."
"It happened in broad daylight on a busy street. There's no doubt that it was an accident."
"Then what do you need me for? Especially before the sun is up?"
"That's for Dad to tell," Rose said. The shrew had a lot of anger in her, anger that was there before I
gave her cause. "Bringing you in on it was his idea, not mine."
I knew Denny's old man modestly. Well enough to use his first name if I was the kind of snotnose who
calls his friends' parent by name instead of Mister. He ran a very successful cobbler's business. He,
Denny, and two journeyman handled the custom and commercial trade. Uncle Lester and a dozen
apprentices made boots under an open-end deal with the army. The war had been good to Denny's
dad.
They do say it is an ill wind indeed that blows no one any good
Well, I was awake. Hair of the dog and scintillating conversation had reduced the pounding in my
head to the tramp of ten thousand legions.