Which was why Simon Beltaire had chosen this as a meeting site.
Even if, by some incredible ability, Jason Cameron was tracking Paul by means of the flames of gaslights all across the city, he would not be able to do so on the docks. Nor would a Salamander ever come here, where the Salamander's worst enemies, the Undines, held sway. Humans, of course, could go anywhere they chose, no matter what their Magickal Natures, and if the Undines resented the intrusion of a Firemaster into the edges of their domain, they were wise enough to keep quiet about it.
The docks were silent at this hour. Perhaps someday there would be work around the clock-but not until either science created brighter gaslights or electrical lights became cheaper. For now, this was a good place to meet someone when you didn't want to be seen-although you had to listen carefully, for some of the street girls brought customers here for the little privacy that the darkness and piles of crates afforded.
Paul walked five steps, paused, and listened before walking five more; in this way he made his way to the end of one of the docks without interfering with anyone's pleasure. It didn't matter what dock he chose; Beltaire would find him easily enough. He chose one that didn't have any boats moored up against it.
He leaned up against a piling, folded his arms across his chest, and waited. Beneath him the water of the Bay lapped against the wooden pilings, and the faint smell of fish and seaweed rose to his nostrils. Fog obscured the surface of the water to a height of about four feet; above the bank of fog, the stars shone down unobscured. Behind him, the sounds of the Barbary Coast drifted down Pacific Street, jumbled together and rendered into mere whispers by distance. Snatches of tinny piano music, shrill laughter, the shrieks of women, the occasional breaking of glass; they all seemed to come to him from another world, across a distance too vast to bridge.
He wished he'd thought to have Diego get him an old duffel coat or a pea jacket; it was cold out here.
'I hope you haven't been waiting too long, Paul.'
He didn't start, since he'd been expecting Beltaire, but once again Simon had somehow strolled up behind him without making a sound.
'Not long.' He turned; the flare of a flame illuminated Simon Beltaire's elegant face as the man lit himself a cigar.
Beltaire did not use a match, of course. There was not enough light to grant more than a fleeting glimpse of Beltaire's countenance, but Paul didn't need any light; he and Beltaire were well acquainted with each other. Beltaire, while not circulating among the elite as Cameron did, was still sought after in his own set. While he might well have been as wealthy as Cameron, he preferred not to flaunt that wealth. He could easily have stood as a model for the hearty, football-playing, dark-haired and dark-eyed college hero. His square jaw and cleft chin had been known to cause palpitations in the hearts of shopgirls and jaded professionals alike, sculptural as it was.
'And what has my estimable lupine colleague been doing since last we talked?' The light from the glowing coal at the end of the cigar was hardly enough to show Beltaire's smile, but there was amusement in the man's voice.
Paul gave a basic summary of most of it; Beltaire listened without comment, since it differed little from the last time they had spoken.
Then he casually dropped his real news, and instantly felt Beltaire's attention riveted to him.
'Cameron hired a young woman to read his books to him.'
Simon's drawl did not disguise his intense interest. 'I assume you do not mean fairy tales.'
'He's working up to the important tomes, but he began her with High Magick from the first word,' du Mond agreed. 'He's found a way around his handicap. She's fluent in several languages, including the archaic forms and supposedly even has a knowledge of hieroglyphics.'
'This is going to force my hand; I had expected to have more time,' Beltaire said under his breath. Paul smiled; that was what he had hoped to hear.
'Tell me what you know about her,' Simon demanded.
Paul complied. 'I don't know much,' he warned. 'Cameron found her himself, hired her himself, and made all the arrangements to bring her here. Her name is Rosalind Hawkins; she's from Chicago, and she has no living relatives. I have to assume she was in some advanced degree program at the university there, given her accomplishments. Perhaps she suffered some change in circumstance that left her destitute and willing to accept Cameron's offer-'
'Never mind that; I can find the facts of the matter out for myself, now that I know where she comes from.' Beltaire waved his cigar dismissively. 'Once I have the details of her life, then I can decide what to do about her.'
'I could get rid of her for you,' du Mond offered, hoping that Beltaire would accept the offer. The girl had taken one long walk already; who was to say that something might not happen to her if she made a habit of such things?
