SeekingJovannaFamilyHistoryAt ten o'clock in the morning a shabby, rather disreputable carriage drew up outside the entrance to Lord Giulian's suite of rooms. The Anderon guards looked at it a little askance, but when the driver climbed down they saw that, shabby as he was, he held under his arm a package of books ... and the guards relaxed slightly. Lord Giulian was known to have dealings with the secondhand booksellers, and some of them were rather unsavoury coves. So they watched without intervening as the old man limped towards the door to the apartments and rang the bell. The door was opened by Peterson, Giulian's manservant. He peered at the book-carrying figure and said, "May I help you, sir?" "Come to see the young Lord," growled the man. "Got something he might be interested in." He half-opened his grimy hand, clad in shabby, fingerless gloves. Hidden in his palm was a token in clear colours of deep cerise and blue -- Bahlmis colours. Peterson, previously instructed by his young master, nodded his comprehension and said calmly, "Lord Giulian will see you in the study. Come with me, please." He stood back and opened the door further for the visitor to enter. The figure shuffled into Giulian's study, and pushed back his disreputable hood from his face, revealing the lean and sardonic features of Tomin, Talaren Bahlmis's servant and companion. "My Lord couldn't come himself," he said to Giulian. "But he bade me take you to him -- if you're willing." Giulian, seated behind his desk making notes, looked up in some surprise when Tomin entered. He knew Talaren's servant by sight, however. After a moment's consideration he nodded, asking, "Is it something to do with the investigation?" He reached for his crutches. "Shall I drive? Or would that be too conspicuous?" Tomin showed his teeth in a grin. "A bit, my lord. The Master said you should put on the costume you were wearing to clerk. Shabbily respectable, that was the ticket, he said." "Very well," said Giulian. "It will take me a little time to change. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime." He indicated an armchair by the fireplace. In about a quarter of an hour he was back, dressed as the anonymous clerk he had been for the past week, down to the blue-tinted spectacles. "I'm ready," he told Tomin. Tomin cast an appraising look at him. Then he gave a brief nod. "You'll do," he said. "We'll travel in my cart." And then, in a way most unlike the meticulous Tomin, he preceded Giulian out of the apartment, and climbed onto the front seat of the cart, watched appraisingly as Giulian struggled up into the seat next to him. The cart wasn't as easy to climb into as Giulian's own curricle, which had handholds built in, but the procedure was similar. Giulian tossed his crutches in first, then got the best grip he could on the edge of the cart and hauled himself up using his arms and one good leg. He considered it a test of sorts, and did not request Tomin's help. He settled himself into the seat next to the other man and nodded to indicate he was ready. Tomin clicked his tongue and the horses moved off. Their route took them into the heart of the city, an area that had once been notorious -- a fearsome slum. Now the carriage drew to a halt in a pleasant little square with a couple of rather interesting craft shops, and an excellent secondhand bookshop, as well as a number of of the pavement cafes that lined the square that served coffee and cakes. Seated at one of these was a dark haired man in the slightly shabby clothes of a down-at-heels businessman, only faintly recognisable as Lord Talaren Bahlmis. Giulian had a passing familiarity with the area (particularly the bookshop). He spotted Talaren a few moments after the cart halted and murmured to Tomin, "How circumspect do you want me to be?" "You're safe to join Mr Bales for a drink," said Tomin. "I'll be stabling the cart and then keeping an eye. I'd recommend a long drink before you move off." Talaren appeared unaware of their presence. Giulian nodded. "Thanks for the lift, then, friend," he said, louder, before clambering out of the cart onto the pavement. He got his crutches under him and waited for the cart to move off before starting in Talaren's direction, at an unhurried pace that allowed him to glance into several shop windows. "Mr. Bales," he said pleasantly, when he was within easy speaking distance of Talaren. "Do you mind if I join you?" "Be my guest," said Mr Bales, with an easy countryman's drawl in his voice. He signalled to the waiter, and ordered a lemon barley water for himself, before looking questioning at Giulian. "Ginger beer, please," said Giulian, taking a seat across the table. Once the waiter had left Talaren said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "Do you realise the part this square plays in your family history?" Giulian looked around thoughtfully, but shook his head. Talaren went on, "Twenty five years ago, this was rather a different place, rundown to the point of destitution. I came here with ... well. I came here looking for two missing children. And I found them." Giulian's expression darkened a trifle. "It's been rather thoroughly ... cleansed, since then, hasn't it." Talaren nodded. "This was the slum where the children were found." "''Tis the Last Judgement's fire must cleanse this place,'" murmured Giulian. "It was my last, indirect contact with a certain gentleman whose name we will not speak aloud -- but who you mentioned last night, Mr Anders." Giulian nodded. "I expect, after so long a time, any trail starting here would be quite cold," he ventured. "Probably," said Talaren, "but it's a starting point. You, Mr Anders, are a budding art cafe owner. You've just purchased that shop in the corner -- and have employed some workmen -- me and more usually Tomin -- to renovate it for you. And you, in your enthusiasm for local history, want to find out all about the good old days -- because that will be the theme of your new cafe. A chance for your relatively upmarket clientele to experience the frisson of imagining themselves in a thieves den." He took a sip of his drink. "I'll trust you to find a way of off-setting this against your allowance, or getting the money from your father. If you show any aptitude, I may be prepared to come in as a partner." "I'll get the money from somewhere," promised Giulian. "Will we be hiring additional workers?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in speculation. "Local talent?" "Indeed," said Talaren. "Maybe bringing in some sub-contractors. Reliable men ... older ones, who may not find it so easy to get work. And your builder, Tom Minns, will be buying his materials locally too. You'll probably be wanting to make a few purchases yourself." Giulian nodded thoughtfully. "Giving me every excuse to come down here periodically and talk with the local people, those who were around twenty-five years ago." His expression sobered. "Of course, we still have no idea whether this line of investigation will get us anywhere near Jo. I almost hope it doesn't." Talaren was silent for a long moment before saying quietly, "There are many ways of coming at this investigation, Giulian. And not all of them will be pleasant. I believe there were secrets in Jo's life. Some she knew. But others -- have been buried deep." "If we find her," Giulian said softly, "will she want to know?" Then he answered his own question. "Yes. She values truth, however difficult or unpleasant." And that, he realized, was one of the things that had drawn him to Jovanna Starr. "And if it comes to that," he went on, his expression hardening, "this part of the investigation is rightfully mine, isn't it? Moreso than any of the rest of us, anyway. As you said ... family history." This one, he thought, is for Jack. "I thought you might see it like that," said Talaren with a slight smile. "Besides which, you have more ... patience than your contemporaries, I believe. A not invaluable lesson to have learned -- however highly you paid for the classes." Giulian's eyes narrowed in amusement. "You could call it that. I've also had it called 'cussedness.'" He looked around in the direction Talaren had indicated. "Shall we have a look at this shop, then?" "Certainly," said Talaren, downing the last of his drink. The shop in the corner proved to be small and rather dilapidated. Its last manifestation appeared to have been as a purveyor of pungent cheese, for there was certainly that aroma about the place too. Whatever colour scheme had graced it once, it was dingy yellow now. In addition to the main shop, there were two small rooms (an office and a store, perhaps) at the back, and a staircase leading up. Across a small grimy yard, there was a privy in a rickety shed. "Several rooms upstairs," said Talaren. "You could use them -- or let them out." Giulian peered up the stairs doubtfully. "I'm not letting anybody up there till I'm sure it's safe. Have the building inspectors been in?" Talaren smiled. "They proved susceptible to bribes. We don't want officialdom taking too close an interest, you know." "I suppose not. But we don't want the place coming down around our ears, or someone falling through the floor, either," said Giulian. Talaren glanced up the stairs. "Tomin will fix it. But -- at first -- it might discourage unexpected visitors arriving from above." "That's true, too," Giulian conceded. He moved toward the back of the shop. "If this is supposed to be a cafe, is there a kitchen?" "We'll build one around the range in that back room," Talaren said. "It was a pie shop twenty-five years ago -- since then it's decayed into a rag-and-bottle shop. The old owner drank himself to death. But we're not thinking anything as arduous as pies. For one thing, Tomin will be doing the cooking -- if we get as far as getting it open. Although, if you want ... it could provide a handy base for you in the city, even if the mystery of Jo Starr is solved. This place is in the newly fashionable quarter -- but the boundary of the lower city is not far away." "It couldn't hurt to have a pied-a-terre here," Giulian agreed, going to the doorway of the back room in question and giving it an assessing look. "It'll do," said Talaren, "for the sort of menu and clientele you'll be serving." He smiled slightly. "How many kitchens have you found your way into, Lord Giulian?" Giulian grinned. "I used to sneak into the Anderon House kitchens all the time, to watch what was going on. That doesn't mean I know the first thing about what to do in a kitchen, mind you." Talaren laughed. "Don't worry -- I'm not Miss Starr. I have no wish to see you clad in a chef's uniform and frowning over the intricacies of the kitchen range. You can be mine host, as genial and welcoming as you like. Now -- shall we see about hiring some contractors? Or do you wish to leave that to Tomin?" "I think I'll leave it to Tomin for the present," said Giulian. "I'm sure he knows much more about what's actually required, and it's the laborers I'll want to talk to, isn't it? For 'background.' And I promised to meet Renata and Elissa at the Student Union by lunchtime." "All right," said Talaren. "We've made a start and shown our faces. Tomin will drive you to the Student Union -- or do you want to go home and change? Our explorations have left us a little dusty -- not that you're in your best." He smiled at Giulian. Giulian grinned ruefully back. "No ... and I think I'd better be myself on the University grounds. The whole point is not to attract the wrong sort of attention, yes?" "Indeed," agreed Talaren. |
