over and gives us a good old buttfucking,' Gervase said.
'No doubt. But not today. Look, It's a way out.'
'Awful convenient, though. Your first walk through the city, you run into an old pal from the wars.'
'You religious, Gervase?'
'As religious as I need to be to get by.'
'I thought so. Pretty much my attitude, too. But I've found that you can't go wrong by assuming that life is tainted by the Will of the Night.'
'You saying supernatural forces are at work?'
'Always. But, in this case, yes, especially. Otherwise, why can't the Brotherhood find those men? Bechter said they get sighting reports all the time but when they check them out there's no further trace. Where I come from we'd think that means they're protected by the Instrumentalities of the Night. The Collegium itself might not be able to ferret them out'
'But the Collegium doesn't care. Not right now. Are you suggesting that we try to reach an accommodation with the Brotherhood?'
Else thought he had made that clear. 'You've got nothing to lose.'
Else felt good.It had been a productive day. He had made himself useful, though Paludan was not yet ready to see that.
In an ideal world he would get everyone thinking he was doing great things. Which would get him established. But an outbreak of peace amongst Brothe's factions would not serve the needs of Dreanger.
Else's quarters consisted of one large room subdivided into three by hanging quilts. He slept in a space no grander than a monk's cell. Polo slept in an even smaller area beyond their common area. That constituted half the total space. The dividers were old and ragged and did little to provide any privacy. They did keep heat from a little charcoal burner confined to the center room. Else stepped in from the passageway. 'Polo? You here?' Someone groaned behind Polo's quilts. 'Yes, sir. What time is it? What do you need?'
'Were you away from here while I was out?'
'I went out to get charcoal, candles, an ink stone, pens, inks, and such. As you instructed. I couldn't find any paper. The papermaker in Naftali Square is out of stock.' Polo slipped his head through an overlap between quilts.
'You don't need to get up. I asked because somebody's gone through my things. I don't think anything is missing.'
After a noise like a mouse's squeak, Polo joked, 'They wasted their time, didn't they?'
'Yes. I'm going to bed.'
Else lay back on his rough mattress, a canvas bag filled with wheat and oat husks. He pondered Polo's response.
It did not seem appropriate, assuming the news was a surprise.
Paludan and Gervase Saludan did not know why they wanted Else to do. They had felt a need to do something. Hiring him had presented itself. But there was no way he could replace all the hired swords who had deserted.
Else asked to have his duties defined. He was told to protect the house. Without being given specifics. All by bis lonesome.
He prowled the citadel, putting on a show. The place was in poor repair and dirty. The staff were slothful and sloppy.
Polo remained close by, most of the time. Else had him pinch paper from the Bruglioni business office. They created a chart of who was responsible for what Of who was in charge where. Else was an energetic administrator, though he disliked that side of soldiering. He let himself go, now.
The Bruglioni citadel was vast. And poorly designed for its fortress function. Though what could be seen from beyond the perimeter wall was forbidding. Where the gargoyles and whatnot had not fallen off. There were other buildings inside the wall. Stables and tool sheds and so forth. The main structure included one hundred and twenty rooms on four floors. Few, off the ground floor, were of much size or magnificence. The current Bruglioni were not into ostentatious display. The family could no longer afford it.
The family proceeded entirely on past momentum under Paludan. He was not stupid. He lacked drive. He was content to let life slide by. Unless his anger broke through. Then he might do something unwise. Like trying to stage a kidnapping and rescue.
Following two days of review, from which he took time off only to drill the younger Bruglioni in the use of arms, Else summoned the senior household staff to a meeting in the kitchen. Nine deigned to appear, along with a few gawkers.
One of the nine was the chief of the four men who guarded the two gates used to get into and out of the citadel. Else told him, 'Mr. Caniglia, you and your men are not to allow Mr. Copria, Mr. Grazia, or Mr. Verga to enter the citadel tomorrow.' Only a handful of staff lived on the premises. Paludan did not want to feed and house and pay them, too. “They no longer work here. The rest of you, think about who should take over. Let me know tomorrow. Mr. Natta? You want to volunteer to test the jobs market yourself? No? Mr. Montale. I understand that you find new staff when they're needed.'
'Uh… Yes, sir. For the household. Not for the people on the business side. Not for anything to do with weapons or body guarding.'
'New staff will be needed soon. We're about to shed our nonproducers. How many here now are your relatives? Do any of them actually do anything?'
Montale hemmed and hawed and talked around the edges. Else interrupted. 'They won't lose their jobs. If they do them. Would any of you argue that this place isn't a slum? We're going to change that. We have enough people. We start today. Anyone who's been getting a free ride and doesn't want to give it up can take the option pioneered by Mr. Copria, Mr. Grazia, and Mr. Verga. Name a devil. Here's Mr. Grazia.'
Grazia was a short, fat man with fat lips and a natural tonsure. The little hair that he did retain was red, lightly touched with gray. Humorists wondered whether his hair would all disappear before the remnants grayed.
Grazia puffed, 'Sorry I'm late. There was a crisis.'
Some eavesdropper had brought warning.
'Better late than never.' The foreigner expected to separate Grazia from his job anyway, in time. 'We'll look at your books when we're done here. We haven't been getting the most out of our budget'
Grazia turned a pasty gray.
'Mr. Negrone. Mr. Pagani. General cleaning and upkeep seem to fall within your purview. Brainstorm me some ideas on how to get this place cleaned up, fixed up, and painted, employing a tribe used to taking paid naps and putting in ten-hour shifts playing cards. Madam Ristoti?'
The cook's kitchen was the one bright spot Else had found. She said, 'Call me Carina. I have some ideas.'
'Excellent, Madam Ristoti. One and all. We're going to be more formal with one another. That will put our work on a businesslike footing. Now. Madam. Your ideas, please.'
In the area of managing the backstairs Madam Ristoti possessed a field marshal's mind.
Else gave her three minutes. 'Excellent. You're in charge of everything. You can manage that and the kitchen both? Mr. Negrone? You want to take issue?'
Else gave Negrone equal time. Then, 'In other words, you have no suggestions. You just object to Madam Ristoti's proposals because she's a woman.”
'That's putting it baldly …'
'There won't be any beating around the bush anymore. Mr. Grazia, I assume you know what everyone gets paid. How much will Mr. Negrone not be taking home if he finds himself unemployed?'
Negrone mumbled something before Grazia could respond.
Else said, 'There isn't going to be any debate. If you think there's a better way to do things, tell me. Convince me. If people won't cooperate, tell me. I'll break arms and kick butts. Or instruct Mr. Caniglia not to let them in. So.
