D Cornish - Factotum

On a peculiar flash of intuition Rossamund gave it the merest nictation. Speaking low, almost under his breath, he addressed it. "Hail, servant of the ancient and rightful duke of Brandenbrass.You would do me great service if you should keep watch of my mistress wherever she might go in this city." He was no monster-lord, but it was worthy of a try.

The rabbit, however, did not move but simply peered at him, nose a-twitch twitch.

Rossamund gave a sad shrug and turned away. Yet, returning to the house, he chanced to see the little watcher wriggle back out through the bars of the gate and disappear down the Harrow Road with all the purpose of a scopp. Taking an audition in the hiatus of an armoniam player hoping to sweeten the mordant tattle of the glossary, Europe received the latest report of Swill and the Master-of-Clerks with typical composure.

"Choked upon their own rope at last" was all she said, a slight I-told-you-so look passing across her face.

Lost in the bliss of his art, the armoniam player played on.

Shivering, Rossamund clenched his teeth against the high notes. He wanted to say something to her-sorry for the tussle of words two nights gone, for the bad feeling it had brought between them.Yet he did not see that his was the fault, and fixing on this thought, said nothing.

"THANK YOU, SIR!" Europe called over the barely melodic shriek, interrupting the slightly put-out musical gent in the very midst of his transports. "That shall make a perfect accompaniment, thank you," she said, and bid the self-important fellow good day.

Even as the man left, the Baron Finance was shown into them, his rouged cheeks more rosy than usual with a natural glow of exertion. The Chief Emissary smiled warmly and gave Rossamund a brief, curiously knowing look as he bowed low in greeting.

"Gracious duchess-daughter! I was hearing such rumors of your misfortune.You went out to knave fully provisioned in your best fit, yet returned-to the great dismay of Pater Maupin and his associates-much lighter in luggage, by a red-doored canty-coach. Yet here you are now planning a great celebration. You have us all more perplexed, m'lady, than the swapping of springtime months!"

"Truly, Mister Finance?" the fulgar chided mildly, her face a placid blank. "I would have thought you'd have plumbed such mysteries already."

The Chief Emissary dipped his head. "I have found it is far simpler to ask directly where one can, gracious lady…" He waited expectantly.

Europe took her time to answer. "Master Maupin and his surgeon pet set a nice trap for us to spring on the Holt Street in the eastern Brandenfells," she said matter-of-factly. "By the attendance of the Seven-Seven sept and a base-born sciomane with her pack of jackstraws, I would say that he did not intend me to survive."

Finance allowed frank indignation to play across his handsome features. "And you know it was purposely set by Maupin, m'lady?"

"Surely with your long experience, Mister Emissary, you ought to have learned that an astrapecrith's full arts are subtler than just blasting life and limb. We, sir, are the great undiscovered falsemen!"

"Indeed" was all the Chief Emissary said at first, then added cautiously, "One might hold that after such an affront you might have chosen to return with more furtive care."

"I do not do furtive, sir," Europe instantly corrected him. "You of all souls ought know this."

The Baron inclined his fastidiously powdered head in capitulation.

"Hiding my return, dear Finance, is not possible," she continued. "Hiding my intent now that I am here, however, is."

The Baron smiled. "As is penetrating Maupin's own schemes," he returned.

Europe looked at him steadily, Go on writ clear in her expression.

Finance obliged her. "After his clandestine assault on this house, Pater must have mistaken your prompt departure from Brandenbrass for knaving as weakness."

"Silly fellow," Europe put in.

"As you have figured it yourself, gracious heir, Maupin gained the interest and the backing of a dark commerce principal and a massacars' league. He holds this interest still, despite Swill's ruin at the fall of the fortalice out Sulk End way and with it the removal of ducal approval. Now that you are returned to us, Maupin has grown rather anxious to fortify his dens and is hiring as many sturdies and mercenary fellows as will place themselves under his banner. And with all this, he remains determined to have at Mister Bookchild here, blinking so perplexedly beside me."

Rossamund schooled his lids to a facsimile of unruffled stillness.

"Pater has run himself out so far on the credit of the Archduke's favor in his desire to get at me," Europe posited, "I would think he had scant option but to burrow himself in so deep. Especially now that he knows his attempt at my elimination failed."

"If I may, gracious daughter…" The Baron Sainte smiled as he went on. "Whatever you intend, Maupin is nicely perplexed at your gala."

The fulgar gave a cryptic smile. "Nothing like a festivity to lift the common spirits distressed at distant Winstermill's fall," she said.

"Of course…" The Baron Finance's expression took on the dogged cast of someone fully expecting that which he did not at all desire. "To that end I can offer you intelligence of perhaps a deeper and better sort than your Mister Rakestraw has garnered. Though I am certain Mister Rakestraw's scarlets are competent enough, you ought to take the services of one or even two of my percusors. Messrs. Slitt and Camillo are most excellent for the purpose."

Percusors! They always made it into pamphlets as the worst of all scoundrels: murderers for sport, money and state.

"What might your duchess say of such a common use of her political apparatus?" Europe inquired, arching a brow.

"I have always had the understanding, gracious lady, that your most excellent mother approves of whichever course I choose to travel, to maintain or increase the prospects of our sovereign state." He leaned forward a little. "And if I may, ma'am, I myself most heartily wish to see you preserved in so fraught an adventure."

"Fraught, is it?" A wry grimace flickered at the edges of the fulgar's mouth.

Finance tapped his nose again. "Your graciousness knows full well that to vie with the dark trades or one that they patronize is to clutch at great girth with small hands."

"And you know well, oh Baron, that my hands are thew enough to grasp anything onto which they lay themselves. There shall be no safety for me or mine unless I put out the eyes of this froward gentleman. Your intelligence I gratefully receive, but yet again I must decline the use of your staff."

Finance conceded with an elegant nod.

After the perplexing agent departed with many gracious words, Europe added to Rossamund, "He will help regardless of my wish."

Rossamund nodded. Help in what? Three days before the gala, with Rossamund deep in ever-quickening preparations, Mister Oberon performed an examination of his mistress. At its conclusion he sought Rossamund out and advised him to make emunic reborate, a treacle found in Europe's expurgatory and good for fulgars given to overexerting themselves in the stouche.

"Unlike plaudamentum, it keeps for a small while," the transmogrifer explained, "and is to be drunk a few hours before a fight. Please make sufficient doses to be taken over the next four days."

And with that Oberon left. In the afternoon, with the sky remaining blue and unrepentantly clear, Mister Brugel the armouriere presented to Europe a most exquisite set of proofing. It was, he assured her in the most grandiloquent terms, the best protection money could gain while still holding easy movement. With Claudine and Brugel's female assistant to help with points, frogs and buckles, it took the fulgar more than an hour to fit.