“For how long, I wonder,” Stephano said.
“Oh, he’s going to be there for some time,” said Miri complacently. “Gythe and I went inside to ask the landlord for a donation to our Home for Wayward Children. We heard this Dubois fellow tell the innkeeper to have his dinner sent up to his room. He also said that if anyone came asking for him, to send them in to him immediately.”
“Excellent!” said Stephano, and he added teasingly, “Did you get any money for your wayward children?”
Miri held up a coin. “I figure I’ve earned it,” she said with a wry smile.
“I’m truly sorry I brought all this trouble on you, Miri,” said Stephano ruefully. “Am I forgiven?”
“So long as you convince Dag I did not poison his cat,” said Miri feelingly.
Stephano leaned his head under Miri’s wimple and gave her a kiss, causing two women walking past to glare at him in shocked reproof.
“And now,” said Stephano, reaching into his jacket to give the dragon pistol a reassuring touch, “let us go ruin the dinner of Monsieur Dubois.”
Sir Henry Wallace watched with satisfaction as Stephano removed Dubois’ agent. Wallace still had a problem, however, in the form of Dag Thorgrimson. Henry had not counted on Stephano leaving the mercenary and Rodrigo behind with orders to escort Alcazar to the ship. Henry considered shooting Dag, but the mercenary’s competence in handling his weapons and the fact that he was holding a loaded musket forced Henry to dismiss that notion. He might try bribing him, but one look at Dag’s ugly, loyal face, his stalwart, soldierly mien, and Henry knew bribery was not going to work.
Henry sat at the table, half-listening to Rodrigo and Alcazar talk, considering ways to get rid of Dag.
After imbibing several glasses of wine, Alcazar had recovered quite remarkably from his fright. He and Rodrigo were discussing Alcazar’s job as a journeyman with the Royal Armory. Alcazar, aware of Sir Henry’s eye on him, had been careful not to mention anything regarding his discovery up to this point. But now the wine had gone to his head. He was chatting away happily when suddenly something seemed to strike him.
“I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but did you say your name was Villeneuve?” Alcazar asked.
“I did, sir,” said Rodrigo.
“Rodrigo de Villeneuve? The man who wrote the treatise on Magic and Metallurgy?”
“The same,” said Rodrigo, delighted. “Have you read it?”
“My dear sir,” said Alcazar with emotion, reaching out to clasp Rodrigo by the hands, “it was your brilliant theories that led me to my discovery-”
At the word, “discovery,” Sir Henry’s attention snapped back to the conversation. He fixed Alcazar with a hard, glittering stare that froze the words in the journeyman’s mouth and ended the conversation in mid sentence. Henry turned his attention to Rodrigo, who was humming a popular aria and accompanying himself on the table, running his fingers over the table as though it were a pianoforte. Rodrigo appeared to be completely self-absorbed, giving no indication that he had heard Alcazar’s babbling, much less understood the importance of what he’d said.
But Sir Henry was not fooled. He had caught the quick gleam of intelligence in the brown eyes and the smile of cynical amusement on the sensitive mouth.
“I do not trust you, Monsieur,” said Henry Wallace to himself, gazing at Rodrigo from beneath half-closed eyelids. “Captain de Guichen is not the type of man to have a fool for a friend.”
Sir Henry rose to his feet. He saw Dag shift his hand to the trigger of the musket.
“I’m only going to take a look outside,” said Sir Henry, and he walked to the window.
Several people were moving along the street. Sir Henry dismissed all of them as being unsuitable and eventually settled on a man dressed in shabby clothes who was walking slowly, peering at the houses, as though searching for an address. Henry summoned Dag.
“That man is one of my agents. I’m going to go speak to him. Remain here where I can summon you if I have need.”
Dag nodded silently and, putting down the musket and, keeping his hand on a pistol beneath his coat, took up his station near the entrance to the boarding house. Henry hurried outside and ran out into the street. He stopped the man by flinging an arm around the stranger’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry to detain you, friend,” said Sir Henry. “But there is a silver petal in this for you if you will stand here and converse with me a moment. How do you find the weather? I fear we may have rain this afternoon. There is a smell of thunder in the air. What do you think?”
“I think it is uncommonly hot, sir,” said the man, seeing the glint of silver in Sir Henry’s palm.
“An astute observation,” said Sir Henry. “Here is your money. Off you go.”
He clapped the stranger on the shoulder, then turned and walked back into the house, leaving the stranger to stare after him a moment, then shrug and continue on his way.
Sir Henry motioned Dag to accompany him back to the room where Alcazar and Rodrigo were pouring more wine.
“I fear I am the bearer of bad news regarding your friends, the two young women,” said Henry. “My agent brought word. Dubois discovered the two women were following him. He and his agents seized them and carried them off. Your help is needed at once.”
Dag’s face creased in worry. He scooped up Doctor Ellington, settled the cat on his shoulder, then reached for his musket.
“You coming, Rigo?” Dag demanded, glowering.
Rodrigo remained seated.
“Stephano told us to stay here,” Rodrigo said, playing a silent sonata.
Dag glowered. “You stay, then. God forbid you should get your clothes dirty.”
“Dag,” said Rodrigo quietly, “I think we should do what Stephano says.”
At this, Dag hesitated. He was clearly worried about the welfare of the women, but he was also worried about disobeying Stephano’s orders. Henry took charge.
“Captain de Guichen could not have foreseen this development. You should go help your friends, Thorgrimson,” said Sir Henry. “Monsieur de Villeneuve and I will remain here until you return.”
Dag looked relieved. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Dag,” said Rodrigo, his voice taking on a note of urgency. “You should stay. This man is-”
Sir Henry reached into his coat, drew a small stowaway pistol and, using his coat to shield the weapon from Dag’s sight, aimed the pistol at Rodrigo’s heart.
“This man is what?” Dag asked impatiently.
“-going to fetch another bottle of wine,” said Rodrigo.
Dag shook his head in exasperation and hurried out the door, carrying the musket. The Doctor rode on his shoulder, tail switching as he dug in his claws to keep hold.
Rodrigo glanced at the gun and smiled.
“You know who I am,” said Sir Henry.
“Although we were never formally introduced, I believe I have the dubious pleasure of addressing Sir Henry Wallace,” said Rodrigo.
“Your servant, sir,” said Sir Henry.
Alcazar was blinking at them both in drunken confusion. “Sir Henry? Who’s that? This man is not Sir Henry. His name is Russo…”
Henry gestured at Alcazar with the pistol and told him to shut up. Alcazar stared at the pistol, gulped, hesitated, then pushed himself up from the table.
“I don’t feel good,” he said and tottered unsteadily toward the bedroom.
Rodrigo looked after him, then looked back at Sir Henry.
“It is true, then. That journeyman, Alcazar, developed a formula for strengthening metal using magic. I theorized it might be possible, you know,” Rodrigo added, with a shrug, “But I never put my theories to the test. Too much bother.”
He hummed a waltz and ran his hands over the imaginary keyboard. Then he stopped, his fingers hovering. “That confounded theory is the reason you wanted to kill me!”
Rodrigo pondered this a moment, then continued his playing. “Stephano and I both wondered. We couldn’t
