D Cornish - Factotum

"Today you will be meeting my man-of-business," the fulgar said suddenly, marking a page and closing the garland. "He is a bright fellow, a man of many parts, with clear ambitions in the magnate line. I do not begrudge him his plans for improvement-many have them, I suppose-and he completes his labors for me admirably." Finally, she looked at her new arrival properly. "This came for you," the fulgar stated blandly, holding out a folded paper.

It was a simple note from Fransitart. Rossamund, We are safely harbored at the Dogget amp; Block, in the district of Fishguard. Any takenyman will know its bearings, as might your Branden Rose. Will look in on you in the middle of the afternoon watch if we do not have report from you first. With respect

There was a knock.

With an absent "In!" from Europe between gulps of treacle, a portly, thoroughly starched, clerical-looking gentleman entered the file. Dressed in a glossy blue-gray frock coat with darker collar and cuffs and sensibly restrained hems, he wore his own sandy hair above an extremely broad face; the slicked locks, parted evenly and jutting over either ear, were gathered in a small black bow at the back. About him hung a distinctly mercenary air.

"Ah, Mister Carp. Here you are, my man-of-business, even as we speak of you," declared the fulgar.

"Your return is happy and welcome, gracious lady," this Carp fellow offered-as starchily as his appearance promised-bowing low and long and taking no notice of Rossamund. "I came from my offices directly I got your word." Behind him came two equally stiff lackeys in glossy gray, each bringing an armful of folios and bow-tied papers.

Europe gave a brittle laugh. "Nonsense, man! I am fully aware my return is of great inconvenience to you all. Gone are comfortable days in my pay done at your usual rhythm."

"Ah, your grace," said Carp, smiling tautly, "you are anything but inconvenient-"

"Tish tosh," the Branden Rose returned evenly. "Now! This is Rossamund Bookchild, come here as my new factotum."

"Yes, yes. Kitchen explained as much upon my arrival," Carp said gravely with a look of cautious regard to Rossamund. And who are you? his pale eyes seemed to say. "We were all most distressed when we received news of noble Licurius' gallant fall."

Europe looked owlishly at the man. "I am sure you were," she said quietly. She stared at her man-of-business for a moment and then said, "Here, Rossamund, is the silver-tongued Pragmathes Carp."

Mastering a faint animosity toward this fellow, Rossamund bowed and did his best with gentlemanly civility. "Pardon me, Mister Carp, sir, but do you have a relative living up in Boschenberg?" he asked cheerfully enough, thinking that there might be a connection between the person before him and Madam Opera's manservant.

The man-of-business just blinked at him and remained silent.

Rossamund stared out of the file window and hoped neither Europe nor the uncivil Carp noticed his burning cheeks.

"Mister Carp," Europe declared, as the man-of-business directed his aides to deposit their loads and depart, "today you are to show Rossamund to the coursing house so he might tell them that I am arrived and am available for work." She glanced to Rossamund. "There is no benefit in sitting idly about giving needless scope to all manner of dour maunderings.You are to aid him fully, sir, in learning these clerical particulars." She leaned back in her seat.

Carp inclined his head. "Most certainly, good lady."

Daunted, Rossamund only nodded; he had no notion how to be both monster and monster-hunter at once. He could only hope that he might somehow steer his mistress' choices or drive the bogles away before she could get to them, just as Threnody said Dolours did with the unfortunate Herdebog Trought.

Europe sat up and produced a folio from a wide drawer in her elaborate desk. It was a sheafbook; a flight of pale golden egrets figured on the ebony cover, and it was filled with the ribbon-bound leaves of many different papers. "This is my vaingloria-well, the most recent of them. It is a testament to my aptitude and proof of your representation of me." She looked at Rossamund steadily. "Take this, present it to the underwriters at the knavery and inform them that I am here. That is my task for you today; a simple beginning. Mister Carp will put you aright if needed, will you not, man?"

"Most certainly, good lady."

The fulgar drew forth a key from some secret place upon her. "You must fit yourself appropriately for going forth on the knave with me." A hint of kinder feelings played about the corners of the fulgar's eyes and mouth. "What arts do you think will suit you in the stouche?"

Puckering his mouth, Rossamund frowned. "Potives work best, I reckon," he said with an emphatic nod. "They do for many more foes than one blow of a stock or one shot of a firelock can."

"Truly… A ledgermain, are we?" Europe replied with a twinkle in her eye. "Mister Carp will write you out a folding note to twenty sous"-at this the man-of-business shifted his weight just a little-"for you to take to Perseverance Finest Parts on Foul Soap Lane after your excursion to the knavery. Set yourself up with whatever you deem necessary to meet the need, Any change you may keep for future expenses."

Rossamund could hardly credit what his ears were hearing.

Twenty sous!

"May I bring Master Craumpalin with me?" he asked breathlessly. "He knows all there is to know about the properties of scripts."

"If it will help you to spend, then, yes, you may."

What a turn! To be let free at a dispensary with a learned dispensurist and almost as much money as Rossamund could earn in a year of lamplighting.

At Europe's instruction, Carp went to a heavy bureau in the corner behind her and there drew up a bill of folding money. Passing the new-minted note to Rossamund, the man-of-business could not help the warning, "Disperse this wisely, young fellow-we will want receipts."

The young factotum goggled at Carp's fine pen work on the bill, at the import of the words the man had inscribed there. Europe folded her arms in an easy manner. "Now go!" she proclaimed, with a light and easy twirl of her fingers. "See! Do! Spend! And if you are able, find me a new driver for my landaulet."

Before he left, he wrote a note to his old masters at his own writing desk in his new room, with stylus and a ream of fine, thick parchment. He sought to frame a grandly formal missive with capitals and all, just as an agent of a mighty peeress ought. Dear, dear Masters Fransitart amp; Craumpalin, Please do me the Honor of meeting with me at your Chosen Establishment, the Dogget amp; Block, on this very day at the Second Bell of the Afternoon Watch, and from there to join me in the Purchase of Many Scripts and Many Parts from Perseverance Finest Parts, Foul Soap Lane. Your Servant Most Faithfully,

… Here he steadied himself and marked his name, re-fashioning it after his memory of Sebastipole's own fine manu propa: