Karen Memory by Elizabeth Bear

Author:Elizabeth Bear
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781466846340
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2015-02-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

When I walked into Madame’s office the next day, she looked startled and irate. Neither of which was how I was used to seeing her. She had been bent over an account book, pince-nez slipping down her scowl, and now she closed it with a snap that made me think she might be more mad at the accounts nor me.

That weren’t settling to my spirits. In fact, it plumb took me aback. But I grabbed up my courage anyway and I said to her, “I know how to fix all our problems.”

She cleaned the nib of her pen, still frowning.

“That’s a pretty tall order, young lady,” she said. “Are you sure you know what all our problems are?”

Da would say that first you make a list of everything that needs doing. Then you figure out a plan to get it done. If you can’t get it all done, you figure out what’s most important and you do that.

“No,” I admitted. “But I know the cause of most of ’em is Peter Bantle.”

Her fingers tapped the leather cover of the account book. “And what’s the cause of Peter Bantle?” she asked.

I must of meant to say something next, because I’d had that feeling of being on a roll you sometimes get. And with her question it was gone—poof—like so much snow falling on the ocean.

There ain’t nothing quite like the sensation of standing there with your mouth agape. “And what’s the reason, you think, that I haven’t moved against him yet?”

“I know you ain’t afraid of him.”

“Afraid?” She laughed gently, which worrited me more than if she’d brayed like an ass. “I’m concerned about him. I’m wary of him. I might be a little afraid—not of Bantle, but of the crazy stupid shit a man like Bantle will do. Normal people, they’re lazy. They want to protect what they got and they won’t risk it. Peter ain’t like that, Karen honey. He’ll risk all sorts of things just for a little power, or the chance to make somebody hurt.”

“But that ain’t why you won’t let me go put a stop to him.”

“Maybe I’m the lazy one here, protecting what I already have.”

I didn’t have no good answer to that, neither. So I just looked at her, because she was Madame and I couldn’t tell her she was full of shit.

“Everybody owes something to somebody, Karen. Bantle owes somebody, you see if he doesn’t. And it’s possible I owe something to somebody else.” She tapped the account book again.

I had the oddest sensation, that of somebody who had always seemed invulnerable, capable, prepared—invincible—showing or admitting weakness. I won’t say it was as bad as when Da died, because ain’t nothing as bad as when Da died. But what I wouldn’t of given for one real good barrage of profanity out of her, just then.

“He don’t have to know it’s us,” I said stubbornly.

She tilted her head. “And just how do you prescribe to prevent him knowing?”

“Sneak,” I said. I must of

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