BackFromTheQueenClaudio saw his apartment before him, the long, high, airy room at the top of the house with the skylight at one end... But even as he was stepping through, he realised that someone had been there before him. And, possibly, was still there -- not visible in the room, but was that a footstep in the hall? A draught of outside air? The door to the armoire was slightly ajar, and Claudio knew he hadn't left it like that. Taking a firmer grip on his walking stick, he rapped out, "Who's there?" "Only me, Sir," quavered an unfamiliar voice, nervously -- speaking from the corridor. "I thought I heard someone moving in the room, but I dinna see nobody come in." Claudio's eyes narrowed in suspicion. That didn't sound like his landlady. Continuing to hold himself in readiness, he said pleasantly, "There appears to be no one here but me, at the moment. Come in and see for yourself." The door opened and a small man appeared, blinking in the sudden light of the room. His clothes were shabby but respectable, his hair was greasy, his eyes pale and he seemed to have a slight hunch. He touched a finger to his forelock respectfully at the sight of the gentleman. From where Claudio was standing he was aware of the aroma of fried fish and stale cooking oil. "Phil Squid, sir, at your service," he said respectfully. "I was recommended a room in this place, for me own is burnt out. Mr Anansi at the castle, he recommended it. He's been very good to me, he has." He looked around the studio room, and appeared somewhat abashed. "Not as nice as yours, Sir," he added. "But not so many stairs," said Claudio, with a slight smile. Phil Squid gave a rueful grin. "No, Sir." Then, putting together the little man's account of his misfortune with the odors emanating from him, Claudio ventured, "Are you from the docks, perhaps?" Phil Squid nodded sadly. "I'd heard there was a fire there," Claudio noted. Then he asked, "You said you heard someone in here. How long ago was that? I just arrived back, myself." "About ten minutes ago," said Phil Squid. "I heard them bumping around overhead, but I hadn't heard no-one going up the stairs, so I came to investigate, see?" He frowned suddenly -- perhaps he was realising that he hadn't heard Claudio coming up the stairs, either. "There's an outside staircase," Claudio pointed out, gesturing toward the door behind him. "That's the one I usually use." Not that he'd done so this time, but an intruder might have entered that way. "You said 'them' -- do you think there was more than one person?" Phil frowned, clearly recollecting. Finally, he shook his head. "No, Sir," he said. "I reckon as how there was only one of them." He looked around the room with interest. "They seem to have gone now, Sir," he said. "Did they take anything?" "If they were looking for valuables, I fear they were disappointed," Claudio said a trifle dryly. "But I won't know till I have a look round. Thank you, Mr. Squid; I'm glad to have acquired such a conscientious neighbor." He moved toward the door Phil Squid had entered by, with a smile and the obvious intention of seeing the impromptu visitor out. Phil Squid seemed only too grateful for an opportunity to take his leave. He tugged his forelock again respectfully and shuffled out, leaving only the pungent aroma of stale cooking oil and fried fish behind him. Claudio shut the door after him, then turned to survey the room. He did not yet move to strike a light, or touch anything; he just opened himself to impressions. From here he could see most of the flat, which was not replete with hidden corners to begin with. The furnishings were relatively sparse: a small table and a few chairs, the divan that served him for a bed, the armoire, his sketch table at the far end and the shelves that held his art supplies, an armchair, a bookcase. What was different? What had been disturbed? The thing that gave away the fact that the room had been thoroughly searched was the fact that it was immaculately tidy. Not that Claudio was particularly careless in his personal habits, nor had he accumulated enough belongings in the month or so he'd resided in Amber to create much disorder. But his bookcase and shelves in particular usually showed signs of their frequent use. At the moment the bookcase looked as if it had been Trumped in from the library of a particularly stuffy relative to whom books were part of the interior decoration of his Ways rather than items he might actually pick up and read, while the shelves might have done credit to an upscale art supply shop. All of which made that slightly open door of the armoire even more suspicious... unless that was the last place the intruder had looked, before he ... or she, or it ... had to leave in a hurry. Claudio decided that was the first place he'd look himself. Other evidences aside, he'd left his artist's satchel in the bottom of the armoire. He moved over to the tall wooden cabinet with his quick, limping step, and flung the doors open. His clothes were immaculately arrayed, as though they had all been carefully pressed. Whoever had searched this room had been very good indeed -- and there was no taint of sorcery in the air, either -- only a faint oily tang that seemed to cling even after Phil Squid had left the room. Claudio reached for his artist's satchel first and inspected the contents; it was such a familiar appurtenance that he could practically do it by touch. As a matter of form he checked to see that his small store of coin was still in its pouch in one of the compartments. He didn't really think the meticulous unknown intruder was a common thief. Nothing had been touched. Or rather -- everything had been carefully replaced where it was found. Only then did he pause to light a couple of branches of candles. In their glow he made a further inspection of the contents of the shelves and bookcase, all the time wondering what the intruder could have been after. As he'd told Phil Squid, he had very little to steal. His Trumps, of course, had been on his person all evening. He wondered how much of an imprint of his personality this room had taken in the course of his few weeks' residence. Such a question was always hard to answer. But nothing seemed to have happened here apart from a disturbingly thorough search. Having made his own thorough inspection of his quarters, Claudio stood in the middle of the room wondering what to do next. Though the night was by now far advanced, he was too keyed up to sleep and at the same time not clear-headed or rested enough for concentrated Trump work. He was also beginning to realize that, apart from a bite or two of appetizer, he'd had no dinner. The Artists' Quarter never really slept. He'd go down and find one of the all-night cafés, Claudio decided, have a late supper and listen to what people might be saying about the evening's events. Had anything happened here? Had anyone noticed? He quickly changed out of his evening coat and waistcoat, shrugging on a more worn and comfortable jacket, to which he carefully transferred his Trump case. He picked up his artist's satchel, its weight on his shoulder obscurely comforting, and locked the door behind him before heading down the outside stairs to the Rue Jardin. The quarter was, at this late hour, at its quietest -- but there was a buzz of gossip -- clearly the events of the last few hours had not gone unnoticed. A table in his favourite café was occupied by two of the artists he was quite friendly with, and one of their favourite, most voluptuous models. They hailed his approached with some pleasure. "Have you heard the latest?" said von Dreflin. "As though this morning's assassination attempt, the fire, the strange behaviour of the moon and that mysterious alert in the barracks wasn't enough!" "The City watch and the castle guards have sealed off the university," said Lilith, her dark eyes wide. "Have they now?" responded Claudio, sliding into a seat. "We'd better watch ourselves, then. If they're looking to commandeer Knowledge, can Art be far behind? How long ago was this?" "Half an hour or so," said von Dreflin. "Arresting someone at the University ... it's likely to be a Chaosian, don't you think? Connected with the fuss at the barracks? Perhaps there's a rebellion, or something." Against Duke Helgram? I wish I may see it! Claudio thought. Although the one University professor he knew personally, Doctor Corrino, might actually agree with him on that. But the last he knew, Delluth had been on the Queen, dealing with some sort of medical emergency. Not that Delluth couldn't have left the ship as expeditiously as he had himself. Aloud he said, "More likely they're rounding up the Astronomy Department, demanding to know what they did to the moon. Did you see the city in the sky?" His three companions broke out into excited exclamations. Yes, indeed they had -- and did he realise it had appeared three days early? Claudio nodded to indicate he'd noticed that. And so clear! But then there had been that cloud, that strange cloud... "The really odd thing was," said Lilith, "the cloud seemed to lift straight from the water. Around where that floating casino cum bordello was." Suddenly, her two male companions were valiantly avoiding looking at Lilith or each other and attempting to maintain poker faces. "I saw that," Claudio agreed, omitting to mention from where he'd seen it, then quipped, "Something catch fire in the galley, do you think?" "Oh don't say that!" said Lilith. "There's been another fire on the docks this evening too -- did you see it? At least, one started, but they put it out pretty quickly, I think." "Another one?" Claudio looked concerned. "What caused it, have you heard?" Lilith shook her head, but von Dreflin spoke up. "There were a group of men -- they looked like officials. They were erecting Danger! signs and This Property is Condemned. They probably wanted to burn them swiftly before the wharf rats moved in -- the human variety. Rattus rattus is probably there already." Lilith nodded. "But that doesn't explain why they put it out again," she said. "Oh well. Perhaps they decided that the wind was in the wrong quarter." "They wouldn't want it to spread to the undamaged buildings, perhaps," Claudio hazarded. "But on the whole, very puzzling. "I already know that some of the people from the docks are being relocated. One of them just moved into my building." "They seemed to be carting most of them further away," said von Dreflin. "I saw several cartloads heading towards the Garnath gate myself. Have you been landed with a family of screaming brats?" "No, just one rather odoriferous but conscientious fellow by the name of Phil Squid," answered Claudio. "Never mind that!" interrupted Lilith. "Let's go and see if we can sneak into the campus!" Claudio rolled his eyes. "You may do as you like, lovely Lilith, but I am going nowhere without supper." He signaled to one of the waiters, then grinned. "After that... we'll see." Lilith grinned back -- but before the waiter could take their order, there was the sound of marching boots. "They're leaving the campus," said von Dreflin. "Do you suppose they found what they wanted?" "I suppose we could take a look out the window and see," suggested Claudio, moving to do just that. There were a group of castle guards and several members of the City Watch moving away together. Outside the restaurant they paused, as though debating whether to come in for a drink. They didn't have a lot of choice -- at this hour, most other taverns and bars were closed. Finally, three guards and two members of the Watch came in together, while the others headed off. "Let's get close," whispered Lilith, "and see if we can find out what's happening!" Claudio had no objection to this plan. Since he hadn't been served any food or drink yet, there was no way for anyone to tell where he'd been previously sitting, so it shouldn't look suspicious for him and Lilith to take a seat near the new arrivals. Offering Lilith his arm, with a tilt of his head he suggested just that. The waiter had just come up to take their order when they heard the first snippet of conversation from the next table. "So what's this Dr Corrino meant to have done anyway?" asked one of the Watch. "I dunno," said a guard. "But something mortal bad. That's why Lord Spider was so hot on getting him sent up to the Palace." A cold finger of apprehension slid down Claudio's spine, making him stiffen. Why would they arrest Delluth? The last he'd seen of the doctor, he was heading off to a medical emergency ... or at least, that's what they'd said. He wasn't sure who 'Lord Spider' was. Chaosians usually associated spiders with House Wererathe, but would Ingrey...? He wasn't sure what Ingrey might or might not do, but the thought of the Minister-Counselor gave him an idea of what he himself might do. "Coffee, rolls, and one of those herbed omelettes you do so well," he told the waiter. Then, to Lilith, he said, "Would you excuse me for a few minutes?" He got up and headed for the hallway in the back of the café. Once behind the door discreetly marked "Gentlemen", and out of sight of prying eyes, he drew out his Trump case and found the card for Lady Paloma Baccaran. If a Chaosian subject had been placed under arrest by the local authorities, the Ambassador should be apprised of it. He concentrated on the card. Lady Paloma's face swam into view. "Yes?" she said. "Claudio Barimen, Your Excellency," Claudio identified himself. "I'm a friend of Dr. Delluth Corrino. Were you aware that he'd been arrested?" Her eyes widened a little. "Arrested? By whom? Where? When?" "By the City Watch and Castle Guard, about half an hour ago -- at least, that's when they descended on the University," said Claudio. "They were going to take him to the palace from what I understand." Paloma hesitated and then said, "Mr Barimen, I would hate to put you in any position of danger ... but will you meet me at the palace, now? We need to get to the bottom of this." "Certainly, if you think I can be of help," Claudio answered at once. "What would be the most expeditious way to meet you? I'm in the Artists' Quarter at present." "Come to the Embassy," said Paloma. "On a night like this, I would not advise your arriving alone at the Castle. People will be ... jumpy. They are jumpy -- as you have seen." "I have," acknowledged Claudio, "and I can't say I blame them." I am too. "Very well. I'll start at once, and be there as quickly as I can." A hackney would be difficult to come by at this time of night, he suspected, but he'd keep his eye out for one. (Continued in To the Castle) |
