eye, a chipped tooth, and part of an ear missing.
“But you should see the other cat,” Dag said with a proud grin.
Dag had spread the word that he would pay well for information regarding Alcazar or Henry Wallace. His silver rosuns had garnered something, though not much that was useful. About a week ago, a young man of about seventeen or eighteen years of age had appeared in the high-class brothels and gambling dens, making inquiries about a Freyan gentleman by the name of Henry Wallace.
The young man was handsome, well dressed, soft-spoken. He told people he had been sent by his mistress, Lady Wallace, to find her husband, who had gone missing. He had a description of Sir Henry, which matched in many respects the description given by the countess. No one had seen such a man, however, at least so far as Dag was able to determine.
Stephano found this odd, but not particularly enlightening, beyond the fact that someone else was searching for Sir Henry. This young man might be what he claimed to be-a member of Wallace’s household. Or he might be an agent sent by a foreign government, the grand bishop, or even his mother, though Stephano doubted that. The countess had told him she could not trust any of her agents and whatever other faults Cecile de Marjolaine might have, she had never lied to him. Since any number of people could be looking for Sir Henry for any number of reasons, Stephano did not give the matter further thought.
Dag’s questions about Alcazar had drawn a blank. Alcazar was a fairly common name in Westfirth, and while many people knew men named Alcazar, none were journeymen and none matched the description.
“There are three Alcazars residing in Westfirth,” Dag said. “One is a middle-aged baker, another a farrier, and the third is a sailor.”
“What about the warrant for my arrest?” Rodrigo asked anxiously. “Am I a wanted murderer for killing Valazquez?”
Dag shook his head. “I asked. If there is a warrant, no one here has word of it.”
“I told you. My mother took care of it,” said Stephano.
Rodrigo gave a faint smile and a shrug. Stephano gazed thoughtfully at him, then asked Miri what she had found out. She reported even less success than Dag. She had questioned her fellow Trundlers about Sir Henry. None of them had ever heard the name. They had not seen anyone resembling his description. The same with Alcazar.
Stephano shoved away his empty plate and sat back in his chair, frustrated.
“Not much to go on. Still, one of these Alcazars might be a relative of Pietro’s. Miri, you and Dag pay a visit to the baker and the farrier. I’ll go to the docks and ask around about the sailor. Gythe, you stay here to mind the boat. What’s wrong now?”
Gythe was shaking her head and indicating she was accompanying her sister.
Stephano frowned. “You’ve been really ill, Gythe. I’m not sure you should be going-”
“Gythe, dear,” said Miri, fussing with her hair, “I need another pin for this cap. Would you be a love and run fetch one for me.”
Gythe ran down below. When she was gone, Miri said with a grimace, “She hopes to run into Brother Barnaby. I tell you, she’s besotted with that man.”
Rodrigo was incredulous. “Impossible. With that dreadful haircut!”
“I don’t think love has anything to do with his haircut,” said Stephano dryly. “I know Trundlers don’t know much about the Church. Does Gythe realize that Brother Barnaby is a monk and that monks take vows not to… uh…”
“Frolic beneath the sheets,” said Rodrigo.
“I’m not sure. I’ve tried talking to her,” said Miri, sighing. “She either doesn’t understand or refuses to understand. I’m really worried about her, Stephano. Gythe seems well enough, but she’s changed. She stops dead in her tracks sometimes and stares off into nothing. She’ll frown sometimes and wince and put her hand to her head, as though she’s in pain.”
“Sounds like love to me,” said Rodrigo. He tapped Stephano on the shoulder. “It’s time we were going-”
“Maybe this has something to do with her magic,” said Stephano, getting to his feet. “Is that possible, Rigo?”
“If so, I have no idea what it could be,” Rodrigo said. “Ask Father Grim and Dreadful.”
“His name is Father Jacob,” said Dag in stern and rebuking tones. “You shouldn’t make fun of a priest.”
“Trust me, my friend, I find nothing at all funny about that man,” said Rodrigo.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Miri,” said Stephano. “I can plan a raid on a heavily fortified castle, fly a dragon through cannon fire, and even battle demons from Hell. A young woman in love with a monk is beyond my capability. All I can tell you is to keep clear of the area around the Old Fort. Father Jacob said they would be staying there as guests of the archbishop. He’s taken over the residential part of the Fort.”
Gythe returned with the hairpin, which she gave to her sister, along with a look that said plainly she knew they had been talking about her. Gythe adjusted Miri’s hair, patted her own cap in place. Miri and Gythe were dressed as servants from a well-to-do household, wearing neat gray dresses and frilly white caps. In such disguises, they could claim to be anything from parlor maids to seamstresses to cooks as the situation warranted.
“Dag, you and the Doctor go with Miri and Gythe. Do you have money?” Stephano asked.
Miri exhibited a small leather purse she carried around her wrist.
“Are you armed?” Stephano asked.
Dag indicated his weapons. Miri reached into her bosom and drew out a corset gun, then hiked up her skirt to reveal a knife in her stocking.
“And the hairpins,” she said, grinning. “Amazing what damage you can do with a hairpin.”
“Very well, good luck,” said Stephano. “Take care of yourselves. Rodrigo and I will visit the docks-”
“After I’ve been to my tailor,” said Rodrigo.
Stephano sighed and went below to dress. He wore his brown, militarycut coat and a plain shirt, no frills and no cravat. He put on his tricorn, draped his sword belt over his shoulder, slid the dragon pistol into his belt and a smaller pistol into a loop in the top of his boot. He came up on deck prepared to face Rodrigo’s scathing criticism of his clothing. Rodrigo scarcely gave him a glance and said nothing beyond the fact that he had a spot of mustard on his shirt collar.
The two left the Trundler village, taking the road that led into the central part of the city. The time being midmorning, the road was crowded with people of Westfirth coming to visit the Trundler village, and Trundlers taking their goods to market. Trundlers were tinkers and craftsmen, tending to excel in weaving, embroidery, and fine leather and metal work. A few traded in gems, while others sold charms and herbal potions and remedies. Trundler villages-closed up at night-were open to the public by day.
Rodrigo wanted to take a cab to their destination. The day being a fine one, Stephano felt in need of exercise after being cooped up on the boat. He had always been fond of Westfirth, wild and lawless as the city might be, and he proposed that they walk.
Rodrigo agreed, though with obvious reluctance.
“God forbid you should have to appear wearing the same lavender brocade coat trimmed in ermine you wore in Evreux,” Stephano teased, as they continued down the street. “I suppose there would be a warrant out for your arrest.”
“My dear fellow,” said Rodrigo with a faint smile, “even you must concede that my clothes are not suitable for mourning.”
“Mourning…” Stephano came to a sudden stop, much to the annoyance of several people behind him and regarded his friend in remorse. “Oh, my God, Rigo, your father! I’m sorry, damnably sorry! What with all that’s been happening, it never occurred to me-”
“Keep moving,” said Rodrigo, drawing Stephano along. “You’re impeding traffic.”
“We can take a cab…”
“No, no, I don’t mind walking. See the sights. I need to stop at a stationer’s if there is such a thing in this city. I have to write a letter to my mother explaining why I was unable to attend the funeral. I’ll have to make up some tale. I can hardly plead fighting giant bats as an excuse-”
“Rigo, stop playing the clown!” said Stephano. “You should have said something. You don’t need to hide your grief. Not from me or the others. We’re your friends.”
Rodrigo was silent long moments, then he said in a muffled voice, “I wasn’t trying to hide from you. I didn’t…
