D Cornish - Factotum

"Got away clean indeed," Europe snorted quietly.

Rossamund frowned at his mistress, grateful nevertheless to have news of the fractious girl lighter.

"What became of the Master-of-Clerks, do you think, Doctor?" he asked.

"The manse was wreathed in flame when last I saw it from across the sodden meadow. Few others fled after us-mostly the larger of our nicker allies fighting what appeared to be a rear-guard action. I cannot think he survived, nor Pile with him."

So the Master-of-Clerks had been served justice at last. The monsters had acted where men could or would not. "No more gudgeon-making there," Rossamund murmured.

Doctor Crispus smiled mirthlessly as he sagged in his seat. "No, not in the manse's cellars, at least…"

"What will 'appen now, d'ye reckon?" came Fransitart's query.

The good doctor put a weary hand to his face. "I heard that the landsaire encampment near Silvernook moved themselves in the small of the morning of the assault and sought to retake the manse. Repulsed bloodily at the gates, they were unable to win inside and fell back in disarray." He sighed heavily and pressed a finger against his lips. "I little expect that the empire of man will allow monsters to remain in its precincts unchallenged. An army will be mustered and sent, of that you can be sure."

"Indeed," Europe inserted. "The Archduke might find a different use for his conquering regiments this summer." After treacle and breakfast and letting Darter Brown outside to do those tasks it is a sparrow's part to do, the duties of the first day back in Brandenbrass began in Europe's file. Letters were waiting for them, a veritable bale of missives and communications collected over the time of their absence.

Only two were for Rossamund, one thick, one thin.

Sitting on a tandem by the unlit hearth, Europe taking up a seat opposite, he broke the letter's red sealing ribbon. Clearly from Verline, it was dated the 17th of Unxis-the very day he and Europe and his old masters had been ambushed-and it read as follows: My beloved stout-hearted Rossamund, What fright I had to read Master Fransitart's telling of your speedy exit from Winstermill Manse.What salve to know you are all well, though I do not know what to make of your succor at the care of that frightful Europa lady. She is a peer, however, so it cannot all be bad. Master F declares he feels you shall remain safe with her for the time, and I hope he may finally have some chance to rest his trickety leg.

I too have some news for you. From the time darling Masters Fransitart and Craumpalin left to come to you, Old Carp and Master Barthomaeus employed the services of a snugman. This fellow, whom I greeted but once-a rather alarming meeting-proved his large fee and found Gosling down in Proud Sulking. Horribly wounded, the lost soul was laid in a subscription infirmary, and would not say how he came by such hurts. Either hand, under right of bounty, Gosling was brought straight back to Boschenberg and has only just now stood before the judges' bench. Their honors pronounced him guilty of (I think I am penning it rightly) interitus causim incension, which Master Barthomaeus informs me is "arsony occasioning death." He says that Gosling was fortunate not to suffer caedes ad incendium (or "murder by fire"-why they do not speak plain, I do not know). Because Gosling is so young, he is to be spared the noose, and is sentenced a convict to serve in the colonial quarries in Euclasia.

I went to him three times in the Lock, bringing food with me. The first he screamed and flailed at the door and tried to reach at me through the small holes in it. I was quite safe; the coston would never allow him near me. The second visit Gosling was quiet. I went in to him, but he simply stared at the wall with those uncommon black eyes. On the third he would not see me, though the goodly sergeant-coston let me take a look at him through the peep. I know all the wickedness he has done, yet still I cannot but feel sorry for him. Oh, if only you could have seen him as I did, Rossamund, you might well share the same tenderness.

At this point Rossamund stopped reading, eyes burning and milt colliding with a thousand unnameable emotions. Collecting himself and wiping his nose angrily on his sleeve, he pressed on:

For now you can be at ease that after the terrible fire at the old foundlingery the children are all as best as can be done for. Most we have founded in better homes, some went to prentice early, and all's that's left of the littlest my most admirable sister and I have taken in for good under our own arm.

"My, my, rumor has spread to my mother at last," the fulgar said, interrupting Rossamund's reading as she pored over a letter of her own. "She deplores my use of QGU in so squanderous a manner, of course…" She studied the missive some more. "The dear has never approved of my path-my violent irresponsible cavortings-and now she has heard of my taking up with sedorners… Shall I bring the whole history of fair names to infamy? she asks. A half truth is better than a whole lie." She put the communication aside with a long-suffering sigh and took up another.

Rossamund went back to his letter.

Far happier news is that now all legals have been settled, it turns that Madam Opera did leave the sum of her small wealth and worldly consequence to both Old Carp and me. Can you believe it! With it comes the marine society contract, which makes it now my right to set up the foundlingery again. My dear, dear brother-in-law has so taken to the littlest that Praeline and I still care for in our home that he has agreed to buy an enormous old manor-burg on the Tuinwig, in Primvild-of all the best places! — and Praeline will assist me as mistress into the bargain. Can you believe this either, heart of my heart? I shall be a marine society proprietress! Carp and Barthom?us will be our starting masters, and I have sent to the Navy Board, who have willingly consented to continue with us and sponsor more salty old darlings like the two dears with you now to serve out better days here. Dear Masters Fransitart and Crowmpalin will always have a place here should ever they want an end to their adventuring days-I have written them so. I almost dare to believe that, with the money Praeline's husband is granting, the foundlingery might be better than before.

Providence ever turns bad to the good, if you have eyes to see it.

My blessings to you. Write to me so that I might know how you fare.Your previous letter was so short it troubles me so. Forever and always your P.S. I have written of the same things to Masters F and C, so you do not need to pass this on to them.

It was signed with the flourish of a soul very much in a transport of happiness.

Blinking back bitter tears, Rossamund read a second time, hastening over the tale of Gosling's downfall, relishing the prospect of a new and certainly better foundlingery.

There was also a short communication from Sebastipole. It was dated more than two weeks gone-well before the fall of Winstermill-and it read as follows: Rossamund, I do not have time to write more than the briefest missive to convey to you my satisfaction upon the report that you have won free from the misuses of the Master-of-Clerks and are under the much vaunted care of so eminent a teratologist. With her you are most certainly safe.

Here in the Considine the marshal continues his fight against false testimony, baseless accusation and the sluggish obstinacy of Imperial bureaucracy. Strange accounts come to us of the Surgeon Swill, that he makes a show of himself in Brandenbrass with a list of outrageous claims. I hope he has not caused you any discomfort. He might be dazzling the Branden court with his wild proclamations, but here in the sub-capital, report of such a carry on has only harmed his reputation-and those associated with him, and does our cause good. Thus encouraged, we go on until we prevail.