business of tracking Sir Henry.
“I’m amazed,” said Rodrigo. “A priest blessed you, and you didn’t sneer.”
“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need it,” said Stephano. “Let’s see if that compass-thingamajig works.”
The compass worked, apparently, for it led them down the alley in the same direction as the faint trail of bloody footprints. When they came to the end of the alley, the compass indicated that Sir Henry Wallace had continued along Canal Street. Rodrigo walked on, delighted with his new toy, then stopped when he realized Stephano wasn’t with him.
“Hey,” he said, glancing around. “What are you doing? Father Jacob warned us that the magical connection wouldn’t last long.”
Stephano stood in the darkness that seemed thick and heavy with evil, hard to breathe.
“You heard what Father Jacob said about this man, Wallace,” said Stephano. “The priest was serious. My mother calls Henry Wallace the most dangerous man in the world. She told me I should quit looking for him. Even she’s afraid of him.”
The two were quiet, somber.
“My mother does pay well,” said Stephano.
“And on time,” Rodrigo said with a deep sigh. Looking down at the compass, he pointed. “Wallace went that way.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
In a city where “watch your back” means you get stabbed in the chest and you can’t even trust your own shadow not to kill you if the money’s right, the Blue Parrot is known for offering privacy, respectability, damn fine brandy, and a rear exit.
THE COMPASS LED RODRIGO AND STEPHANO down Canal Street. They turned left onto the Street of Saints, where the compass led them straight to an exclusive bordello known as the Dovecote. The trail ended on the walkway outside the bordello’s ornately carved and gold-leaf-trimmed door as they discovered when they walked past the house and continued down the street about a block. The compass did not react.
“He must have taken a cab,” Rodrigo said, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed.
“I don’t think so,” said Stephano. Turning around, he studied their location. “Cabs don’t frequent this street, at least not this early. He came here for a reason.”
“To the Dovecote? You can’t be serious,” Rodrigo said, carefully tucking the compass in an inner coat pocket. “He’s been ambushed by demons, involved in dark magic and the murder of a young girl. A priest from the Arcanum knows he’s in Westfirth, and Wallace decides to go play slap and tickle?”
“If he’s a member, he would ask the doorman if he-”
“-could make use of their carriage,” Rodrigo finished, catching up with his friend’s thinking. “That makes sense. I wonder if Dag’s friend is still the owner?”
“We have the priest’s blessing,” said Stephano. “Let’s see if it’s worth anything. Do I look presentable?”
“No,” said Rodrigo, twitching Stephano’s long coat in place to hide the fact that his trousers were grimy and blood-stained and shaking his head over the sorry state of his friend’s shirt. “But, then, you never did, so no one should be surprised.”
The two retraced their steps back to the bordello and walked down the paved path that ran from the street to the entrance. The grounds were pleasant. They walked beneath the overarching limbs of graceful poplar trees and through a rose garden. The house was quiet at this time of evening with only a few lights in the windows. The women would be dressing, putting on their jewels and powder and perfume, preparing for the night’s work. In the back rooms, the owner would be preparing the tables for baccarat, dice, and other games of chance. The doorman stood in a well-lighted portico adorned with tubs of geraniums and lilies. He had been keeping an eye on the two gentlemen and, as they ascended the stairs, he advanced to meet them. He was a shortish man, almost as wide as he was tall with broad shoulders, arms thick with muscle, and no neck. He touched his hand to the brim of his hat.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said polite, but firm. “I fear you have made a mistake. This is a private club, for members only-”
“Thomaso,” said Rodrigo warmly. “Don’t tell me you have forgotten old friends?”
“Monsieur de Villeneuve!” the man exclaimed, looking at them more closely. “And Captain de Guichen! God bless my soul, but it is good to see you both. And to think I tried to send you away!”
He shook his head ruefully, then gestured toward the door. “Come in, sirs, come in. Maudie will be so pleased. We were talking of you only the other day. We can never forget, Captain,” he added, his voice growing husky, “what you and your Cadre of the Lost did for us. We would have been the ones who were lost!”
“I take it no one else has tried to run you out of business,” Stephano said, wincing slightly as Thomaso engulfed his hand in a grip that was a bit too heartfelt.
“No, sir, no. Thanks to you and your friends. How is Dag? He didn’t come with you?”
“He’s a trifle indisposed,” Rodrigo said. “Nothing serious.”
“Ah, I see.” Thomaso grinned and looked wise. “Send him round when he recovers. Now, do come in, sirs.”
“Sorry, Thomaso,” said Stephano. “Maybe another time. We’re looking for a friend of ours. We’re afraid he may be in trouble. He would have stopped by here in the last hour, perhaps asked for a ride-”
“You must mean Sir Robert Beauchamp,” said Thomaso. “Your fears are right, Captain. Sir Robert said he’d been attacked by thieves.”
Stephano and Rodrigo looked at each other.
“The assassins found him,” said Rodrigo in grim tones. “Maybe we’re too late!”
“I fear we are,” said Stephano. “Was Sir Robert badly hurt?”
“Just a gash on his hand,” said Thomaso. “He didn’t stay long. He asked if we could give him a ride to his lodgings. Sir Robert’s a member of long-standing. Of course, I was happy to accommodate him.”
“Just to be sure this is our Sir Robert, could you describe him?” Stephano asked.
“A tall gentleman, well-spoken,” said Thomaso. “Freyan exile. Came here after the war. That’s about all I can tell you, Captain. I’ve never seen the man’s face. Like many of our members, he always wears a mask.”
“Well, it seems he’s safe for the moment,” said Rodrigo.
“Yes, but for how much longer,” Stephano argued. “The hounds are on his trail-”
“If only we knew where he’s gone,” Rodrigo said helplessly. “We could warn him.”
Thomaso looked from one to the other. “Generally such information is kept in strict confidence, but seeing that it is you, Captain, Sir Robert asked the driver to take him to the Blue Parrot.”
“The Blue Parrot!” Rodrigo repeated in alarm. “They’ll be waiting for him!”
“Thomaso,” said Stephano urgently, “we haven’t a moment to lose. Would it be possible for your driver to take us-”
“Of course, sirs, of course,” said Thomaso. He summoned the page and ordered him to the stables.
“The Blue Parrot is not far, Captain,” Thomaso said, when the carriage arrived. He assisted them to enter. “By the Masons’ Guildhall.”
“Thank you, Thomaso,” Rodrigo called, as the carriage rattled away over the cobblestones. “You may have saved a life this night!”
Stephano sat back in the seat, flexing his hand. “I’d forgotten that man’s handshake. I’ve lost all feeling in my fingers.”
“You note I avoid personal contact,” said Rodrigo. “I’m glad he and Maudie are doing well. We’ll have to remember to tell Dag. So, now, what is our plan? Do we storm the Blue Parrot? If so, I must remind you that I’m not much good at storming.”
