Wiz sniffed the stale air. It obviously hadn’t been opened in a while but he didn’t detect the odor of damp or rot. “This place doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years.”
“Not in two years,” Malkin told him. “Not since Widder Hackett died.”
“Still,” Wiz said as he looked around, “it seems like a nice place. I can’t imagine why anyone would leave a house like this empty. In the middle of town and all.”
Malkin shrugged. “She didn’t leave any kin. Besides, it’s supposed to be haunted.”
“Haunted,” Wiz said faintly.
“Probably just rats running around the place.”
“Rats,” Wiz echoed more faintly.
Malkin considered. “But you never can tell. Old Lady Hackett was a sour sort and that’s a fact. If she could come back and haunt the place, like as not she would.” She paused. “Maybe she could, too, seeing as how she was a witch and all.”
“A witch,” Wiz echoed more faintly yet.
“But don’t you worry,” Malkin finished brightly, “it’s probably just rats.”
Wiz decided rats were definitely his first choice. “Well anyway, it’s home for now so we’ll have to get this place cleaned up.”
Malkin looked around. “Take a heap of cleaning.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sweep it out, scrub down the worst of it and it will be fine. Heck, it’ll be a hundred percent better if you just scrub the grime off the windows.”
“I don’t do windows,” Malkin said haughtily.
“I had a 386 system like that once.”
She looked at him oddly.
“Okay, I’ll do the windows. But we’ll need a broom and some rags and stuff.”
“I can get those at the market.”
“Just be sure you pay for them.”
Malkin’s face fell. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Before Wiz could answer there was a sharp knock at the door. Tugging it open, he found himself face-to-face with an overdressed, balding little man who looked vaguely familiar.
“I need to talk to you, Wizard,” the man snapped. He glared at Malkin.
“Alone.”
Malkin, who apparently knew him, glared back. “I’ll get the stuff,” she said to Wiz over the top of the visitor’s head. “You and Shorty here have a nice chat.” With that she swept out the still-open door, leaving the little man purpling in her wake.
“Jailbird bitch should have gone to The Rock long ago,” the man said as Wiz thrust the door closed on its still-protesting hinges. “But who you choose to associate with is your business. We’ve got other matters to discuss.”
“What can I do for you Mr . . .?”
“Councilor,” the man corrected. “I’m Councilor Dieter Hanwassel and I’m someone to be reckoned with around here.”
Wiz looked more closely and saw the man was indeed wearing the heavy gold chain of a city councilman over his elaborately brocaded black-and-silver robe. Where he wasn’t going bald Dieter had dark curly hair that fluffed out from his head. Since he was bald from his forehead to the back of his cranium, he looked like he had just had a nasty accident with a lawn mower. The whole effect was comic-until you saw the jut of the jaw, the lips pressed into a tight line and the glitter in his dark eyes. He reminded Wiz of an excited terrier in a too-fancy collar. A terrier who was aching to take a bite out of someone.
“Ah yes, Councilor, I believe we met this morning.”
Dieter jerked a nod. “We did. And now that the rest of those ninnies aren’t around we can talk seriously.”
Wiz put on his blandest expression and nodded. One thing consultants never had to search for was the political factions in an organization. Sooner or later they came searching for you. Usually sooner.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you a seat,” Wiz said, “but you see-“
Dieter cut him off. “What you can offer me is your support, since just now you seem to have the council’s favor.” He eyed Wiz. “I’m a plain man, Wizard, and plain-spoken. We can do a lot together, you and I. And I can do a lot for you.”
“You mean you can help me with dragons?”
“Dragons,” the councilor snorted. “What do I care about dragons? I’m a practical man and we both know there’s nothing you can do about them, eh? No, what I’m interested in is revenues. Do you realize this city hasn’t had a revenue increase in near a generation? There’s all sort of projects, wonderful projects, just stalled because there’s no revenue. Why, there’s streets, and fountains, and bridges. All just crying out to be built. And they’ve gone crying for years because of lack of revenues.”