Page 60 of Mongrels United
Ten minutes later, the Table stood over them, the flat top thirty meters over their heads, and the bushes behind them. Nash pointed. “A path.”
It was smooth, well-trekked and even. Up higher, there were steps, as advertised. Grady could feel her muscles working as they climbed. It had been too long since she had actively worked on her fitness, if one didn’t count bedroom activities, which Nash could make highly energetic, when he was in the mood.
Itdidgrow warmer as they climbed. Even though she understood the theory, it was a surprise to Grady how much difference the sunlights made, with just a few meters of change in elevation.
Three cottages were built on the top of the Table. They were all small and faced each other. The earth in the center of them was dry, bare, a faded bone color. On that patch of earth stood half a dozen lounging chairs made of fabric and folding struts that held the fabric in a hammock shape.
A white-haired man reclined in one of them, a pad face-down on his knee. His eyes were closed but they opened as Nash and she came closer. The man struggled to sit up higher, and the pad fell to the earth.
“Damn…” the man muttered. “Help you?” he asked, trying to reach for the pad. He had a sparse figure, thickly veined hands, and silver whiskers. His face sagged with age. Despite the warmth on the Table, he wore a heavy sweater.
Nash scooped up the pad and handed it to the man. “We didn’t mean to startle you. We’re looking for Mihael Rogerson. The Forum says he lives on the Table.”
“That he does,” the man said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nash Hyson. This is—”
“Yep, I know the lady. Youngest ever Chief of Staff to a captain, or some such. Am I in trouble?”
“Second youngest,” Grady corrected him. “Emmaline Victore was younger than me when she was appointed to the chair.”
“Don’t know her,” Mihael Rogerson muttered. He looked at Nash. “Don’t know you, neither.”
“I’m Nason Wheelock’s son,” Nash said.
Grady watched Rogerson carefully.
The old man ruffled his hair. Gave a soft harrumphing sound. “Can see it in you, now. Yep. Why’re you here?” His tone was sharp.
A woman with iron grey hair came out of one of the cottages, heading their way. She stopped behind Rogerson’s chair. “Everything alright, Micky?”
Rogerson nodded shortly. “Will be as soon as these two leave.” He glared at Nash.
“We just want to ask a couple of questions, then we’ll be on our way,” Grady assured the woman. “Mihael can help us with our investigation.”
The woman frowned, but Rogerson looked at Grady with sudden interest.
“Well, I don’t know. Micky isn’t very strong…” the woman began.
Rogerson raised his hand. “No, wait.” He looked at Grady. “Investigation, did you say?”
The cautious side of her nature was mentally screaming at her. Putting this on an official basis was painting targets on both of them. But…Rogerson’s intense expression demanded exploring. “Yes,” she said. “The Bridge is looking into the possibility that Nason Wheelock used Bellish. For most of his life. We’d like to know where he got it from.”
And she waited, her breath held. She could feel Nash staring at her, for she had changed the ground rules on him.
Rogerson craned his neck to look up at the woman. “Best step inside,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t hear any more of this.”
The woman tugged at her rolled-up sleeves. “You shouldn’t excite yourself.”
“I’ve been waiting for this day for most of my life,” Rogerson told her. “I’m not going to wave it off now. I’ll explain later. But you can’t be hearing none of this, now. It’ll get you involved.” He patted her hand, which rested on the high back of his chair. “Go on.”
Unhappy but resigned, the woman glared at Grady and Nash, then silently walked back to the little house.
Rogerson laid his hands on his knees, which were skeletal under the thick fabric of his trousers. “Nason Wheelock really was using Bellish? You’re sure of it?”
“Yes,” Grady said, for the man had been speaking to her.
Rogerson shook his head, staring into mid-air, his thoughts clearly racing. “Can’t be right. They shut down the trade. Years ago. That Leroux thing.”
