off Mando, adjacent to Quierca, in what had been the worst part of Third District. It represented an idea Seliora, Mama Diestra, and I had come up with, using the expertise of Factor Veblynt and admittedly, some golds from Seliora’s family. Because it wasn’t close to any streams, and because the re-used water requirements necessitated more filtration and settling tanks, it was small; but after four years, it reliably produced small runs of high-quality writing paper with special designs that were more and more in demand in L’Excelsis. It also employed some thirty-odd local taudis-dwellers, both full-and part-time, largely women who could not work full-time or young men who wanted to learn the trade. The entire operation usually broke even, but the greater advantage was that it had provided some twenty young men-so far-with the skills to work in Veblynt’s larger paper mills, without his having to train them. It also had contributed-along with what Seliora called the “simpleworks”-to improved living conditions in the taudis, and that helped reduce the violence, if not as much as I’d hoped.
“Then, there’s the continuing bud get problem.” I shook my head. “The commander turned down our request for another patroller. I’m afraid we won’t get one next year, either.”
“We’re covering the toughest part of L’Excelsis…well…what once was the toughest part of L’Excelsis,” Alsoran said, “and we do it with fewer patrollers than any other district.”
“I told him that, but he said that since we’ve reduced the number of offenses, we don’t have the same priority as Captain Kharles does in Sixth District, with all of his difficulties with the Hellhole taudis.”
“We’re supposed to do a bad job so we can get enough patrollers that they can work regular shifts like they do in Second, Fourth, and Fifth districts?” Alsoran’s tone was gently sardonic.
There was no point in pursuing that. We both knew it. “Before I forget, I’ll be in late on Meredi morning. That’s if I get a report from Jacquet tomorrow. I’ll need to track down some things dealing with the bombing case.”
“Be careful, sir. Every time you go off to track down things-”
“I know. Something happens.” Seliora offered the same kinds of warnings. “But this might not be quite so dangerous. I’m just looking for information, and I’ll be on Imagisle.”
The dubious look I received from my lieutenant suggested that I wasn’t being terribly reassuring. “Right now, I’m going for a walk, along South Middle, and I’ll see if I can run into Smultyn and Caesaro.”
Alsoran laughed. “Lyonyt wagered that you’d follow young Santaero up Elsyor.” Alsoran laughed again. “Now, I’ll have to.”
“The scenery’s better on Elsyor. Go collect your copper,” I replied in a mock-gruff voice.
We both headed out, walking up Fuosta together, past the cafes and the one bistro, if one could call it that, clustered just up from the station. I alternated eating a mid-day meal, when I ate at all, among the various places where I actually didn’t get indigestion.
We turned east on South Middle. Just before Dugalle, Alsoran crossed South Middle to take Elysor north. I flexed my imager shields, as much as to make certain that I was holding them as anything, because I’d been forced to develop them early on. They were proof against bullets, and slings and arrows, so to speak, and perhaps small explosions, but not against cannon, falling buildings, and large explosions-as I’d discovered early on as an imager.
Much as I tried not to spend too much time with the patrollers on their rounds, I still felt that, if I didn’t spend at least a glass a day with one or more of them, I’d end up out of touch with them and with the district. Besides, if I met with them after their rounds, that took their time, and we were stretched thin, and if I met with them in the station during their shifts, then the district wasn’t being patrolled. Also, as I’d discovered early on, I learned more by talking to them on their rounds.
I glanced at the chest-high brick wall to the right, separating the side yards of the taudis-dwellings from the sidewalk and South Middle. At least the bricks were clean. I’d had to lean on Horazt to get that accomplished, but he’d finally managed to take care of it by the expedient of assigning clean-up duties to those members of his gang who misbehaved. That had actually worked better than either of us had thought because the taudis-gang members didn’t want anyone else writing on the walls after that.
A block after I crossed Dugalle, still on South Middle, I could see the square structure of the woodworks ahead, on the block before Mando-Seliora’s “simpleworks,” built from the stones and bricks of the former Temple of Puryon. It had taken two years to construct after the temple had been blown up by the Tiempran fanatics. The taudis-dwellers who worked there produced sturdy, simple, but well-finished benches, tables, and chairs designed for bistros, cafes, and taverns. Since those establishments suffered breakage, there was a continuing market for solid and inexpensive furniture.
Before I reached Mando, I saw Smultyn and Caesaro walking toward me, their eyes scanning the avenue, the side streets, and the yards. They walked not quite casually, alert but relaxed, and that meant the day’s rounds had been good-so far.
“Good morning, Captain,” offered Smultyn, the short, dark-haired senior patroller of the pair.
“Good morning. Why don’t we head back the way you came, and you can tell me what you’ve seen this morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
As we passed the woodworks, I glanced to my right at the long and low building.
“Everything’s fine there,” said Caesaro. “Fuhlyt said that all the wood was returned.”
“Good.” I’d just passed the word to Horazt. “Has anyone said anything more about that smash-and-grab at the silversmith’s?”
Smultyn shook his head. “Not much. The serving woman at the bistro one door up said that it was a taudis- youth, but one wearing a open jacket with an orange lining, from what she could see.”
“Orange? That’s one of the Hellhole gangs, isn’t it? The Midroad north of the Guild Square is a long ways from the Hellhole.”
“It could be a local, using orange,” suggested Caesaro.
“Not smart.” Smultyn looked to me.
“I’ll pass the word to what ever taudischef I see next.”
“Jadhyl was looking for you. He said it wasn’t trouble.”
“Then I’m sure he’ll find me.”
In fact, less than two blocks past Mando, I saw Jadhyl in his green jacket. For what ever reasons, the taudis-gangs in my district had always worn colored jackets, rather than black ones with colored linings that the wearer had to leave open to show affiliation. The taudischef was talking to a youth under a lamppost. He said something, and the youth hurried off.
“I’ll catch up with you,” I told Smultyn, before I headed down the side street.
“Yes, sir.”
Jadhyl just waited until I stopped, then inclined his head. “Master Captain.”
I’d never seen anyone who looked quite like the east-end taudischef, with his faintly golden-tinged skin and his natural golden-brown hair and piercing eyes. He always spoke in a way that I could only have described as slightly over-precise. He’d never said where his parents had come from, only that they’d died when he was young, and he’d avoided answering me the one time I’d asked. I’d never asked again, because there wasn’t any point in it.
“Jadhyl.” I nodded in return. “I thought you might like to know…” I explained about the explosion, then finished, “If you hear anything, I’d appreciate what ever you might wish to share with me.” Before he could reply, I added, “There’s one other thing. We had a smash-and-grab at the silversmith’s-Alaint’s place just off the Midroad.”
“He’s not that friendly,” replied Jadhyl. “Kantros wasn’t much of an artist, but he’d smile now and again.”
“That’s true, but one of the serving girls got a look at the thief. He was wearing orange under his black jacket. Now…if he was a Hellhole tough out of his territory…”
“Thank you. I do appreciate your courtesy, Captain. I don’t mention that often enough. Would that your predecessors had been so. I’ll talk to Deyalt. If it’s someone who shouldn’t be wearing orange…we’ll take care of it.” Jadhyl smiled.
His words meant I’d have to tell Horazt.
“On the other matter…I have not heard anything, but if I do, you will know. Explosions…” He shook his head, then smiled again. “My nephew Gayhlen. You might recall him?”
