“He’s not worth that,” Josie said, drumming her fingers idly on the table. “He’s not a leader. He’s just wanting to keep the boots warm for when Lesk gets out of Quarry.”
“You think Lesk is going to make a real play at us?” Verci asked. Josie had already lost so much of the empire she had built—mostly because she couldn’t trust any of her old lieutenants anymore. She barely trusted Asti and Verci, and that was because she knew neither of them were interested in taking anything from her.
“I think Lesk wants North Seleth, has decided he’s supposed to be the new boss in this neighborhood.” She chuckled to herself. “They all know who’ll stand in their way of that.”
“I do not intend to be a neighborhood boss, Josie,” Verci said.
“I know that,” Josie said. “But any idiot with his ear on the street can see you and your brother aren’t the types to lie down and let Lesk do it either.”
“Seems we’re alone in that,” Helene said pointedly. “They’ve got places like the Shack, and quite a few folk under their thumbs.”
“They’ve got a few holes and corners is all,” Josie said. “But that’s not something we’re going to let them hold onto.”
Verci held his tongue. Every time Josie talked like this, like they were her lieutenants to reclaim the neighborhood with, Verci wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t like it, but at the same time, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t owe Josie for so much. If she needed help, he couldn’t ignore her.
But the idea of actually being part of some street war with Lesk’s crew or some other boss made his palms sweat.
“Essin said a name, and it made Poller mad,” Helene said. “Treggin? I ain’t never heard it before.”
Josie shook her head. “That ain’t a player I’ve heard of.”
“And you’ve heard of everyone?” Kennith said with a bit more spite than he probably intended.
“Apparently not,” Josie said. She looked like she was about to say something else when Asti and Mila came into the place.
“We’ve got a target, and I’ve started to cook up a plan,” he said boldly. Then he noticed Verci. “Glad to see you aren’t moping around.”
“I tried it for the morning,” Verci said. “It didn’t suit me.”
“Target?” Josie asked. “Plan?”
“Lord Nathaniel Henterman, the Baron of Hinton Hollow, whose manor house in town is in East Maradaine. Number 7 Tully Road, to be precise.”
Verci didn’t know the specifics of East Maradaine or Tully Road, but he knew the kind of houses nobility lived in out there. “I hope your plan doesn’t involve me scaling my way into an East Maradaine manor house.”
“Nothing doing,” Asti said. “I know you’re going to want to lounge about for this one.”
“So what is the plan?” Kennith asked.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Ken,” Asti said. He glanced about at the bunch of them. “Why are you here, actually? I—what’s wrong?”
“There’s a lieutenant with a picture of my face,” Kennith said. “So I have to stay hidden.”
“This about the Tyne job?” Asti asked Verci.
Verci nodded. “He’s got more faces, but his sketch of Kennith is the one to worry over.”
“Also Lesk’s buddies are getting frisky,” Helene said. “I might have beat some calm into them, but—”
“It’s more likely you’ve got their attention, girl,” Josie said.
“Then all this sounds like my plan will make even more sense,” Asti said. “We’re going to need a base of operation in East Maradaine, or near enough. Josie?”
“Why are you looking at me?”
“Because this is what you usually do,” Asti said.
“I ain’t got any fingers out east, boys. I barely have any here, anymore. Didn’t you already rent a flop in Inemar? Use that!”
“That’s tiny, and doesn’t have sights on our target.”
“Oh, you have to have a special place for each job,” she snapped. “Everything perfect for Asti’s plan, which will likely roll up anyway.”
“Is there a problem, Josie?” Asti shot back. “We’re working a plan, and we need a safehouse for it. This isn’t some wild hare I’m running. This is the man who had our neighborhood burned down.”
She scowled. “I know that. It’s just a lot of things faster than I thought.”
“But you can make it work, right? It’s not like money is a big problem here.”
She sighed. “I’ll see what I can find. It won’t be much. Definitely won’t be East Maradaine. Probably Colton.”
Asti nodded. “That’s fine. A place we can stage and scout from. And also a better place for Kennith to lay low.”
“A Ch’omik, laying low in Colton?” Helene scoffed. “If he wants to hide, he should bury himself in the Hodge in the Little East.”
“Roll yourself,” Kennith told her. “I’d rather spend the rest of the year in here than live in the Hodge.”
Verci waved the two of them down. “Presuming the base of operations, what’s the plan?”
“Slow down, both of you,” Josie said. “Start with what you know.”
Asti went over to the icebox and pulled out a couple of ciders, handing one to Verci as he came back to the table. “So, Mila and I did some groundwork. We’ve got a sizable city manor house, probably the largest on Tully Road. Gates, high walls, all the houses in a circle. No way in from the back. Possible soft point through the creek and the lake, but I’m not sure. There’s a lot I’m not sure of. We need a hard scout without it being a jangle.”
“We can’t repeat last night’s debacle, that’s for sure,” Kennith said. Asti glared at him, but he just shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” Asti said. “So, this is what we know. Henterman, he’s throwing a party in a few days. More deliveries, more food, and so forth. That might give us some scout entry. But that party is our moment.”
“What sort of party?” Helene asked.
“Apparently, Lord Henterman is throwing a gala party for Saint Jontlen Day, and—”
“Who celebrates Saint Jontlen Day?” Verci asked.
“Lord Henterman,” Asti said. “But that’s our moment to strike. That’s what we have to be ready for.”
“Hold up,” Josie said. “I like your enthusiasm, but can we be clear on what ‘strike’ means? Especially if we’re talking in three or four days.”
Asti stared at her dumbly for a moment. “I mean, that’s when we do it.”
“Do what?” Josie asked pointedly. “I mean, with Tyne, we robbed him. Took from him like he took from us. So, are we robbing the manor house? Are we killing Lord Henterman?”
“If he’s the one—”
“Are we talking about murdering a member of the peerage? Because if you think there’s heat over Tyne, that’s nothing compared to a dead earl. Or even a robbed manor house. No amount of coin spread to the right corners will quiet that rattle.”
Helene piped up on that. “You’re spreading coin to where? Ain’t that all our money?”
“Hush it, Helene,” Josie said. “I’m keeping the noise off our backs. All of us. So what is it, Asti? What’s the goal?”
“I’m not sure,” Asti said quietly.
“You’re what?” she pressed.
“Not sure,” Asti said.
“And yet, in just a few days, you want us to make our move?”
“This is the moment!”
“Asti,” Verci said quietly. “She’s got a point, the moment for what?”
“To find out what we need to do,” Asti said. “I mean, you’re right, we don’t know. We don’t know who Henterman is, what he’s trying to do out here, whether he’s the real brains of this or just another pawn. We need to find out.”
“So when you say strike, you mean th
e party is an opportunity to figure out who he is and what we need to do about it.” Verci looked over at Josie.
“Right,” Asti said. “Though that might burn our entry. But we don’t know how to do an entry unless we get in there for a proper scout.”
“Sounds like a job for a spy,” Verci said. “Since you don’t have a window-man right now.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Asti said, almost like he was trying to force it into truth with pure power of will. “I’d want you at the base while we’re running, but I imagine Raych would object.”
“You think?”
“She did tear my face off last night,” Asti said. “You were out cold for that part.”
“Probably for the best.”
“So, the plan?” Helene prodded.
“Sorry,” Asti said. “Henterman Hall. Gala party. We need to use that—”
“They’re hiring,” Mila said idly.
“What?” Asti’s eyes bugged out at her. “How—Why didn’t you—”
She pulled some papers out of her shirt. “You remember when the wagon driver told us to try the Henterman House? He wasn’t being idle, they are looking to hire folk. He had sheets for a paper job, and it’s in the adverts for the Gazette.” She took out a copy of the newssheet.
“When did you grab those?”
“Didn’t see me, did you, Mister Rynax?”
Verci stretched to grab the newssheets from Mila, but he couldn’t reach far enough from his chair. Helene snatched them and handed them over.
“They’re looking for a few things. Kitchen staff, handyman . . .”
“Stableman?” Kennith asked.
“No, sorry. But that gives us an in,” Verci said. “With some forged credentials—”
“That is something I can handle,” Josie said.
“So who will try to be hired? I can’t be the handyman like this.”
“I’ll go for that,” Asti said.
“You? Handyman?”
“I do have some skills,” Asti said.
Verci tried not to laugh.
“Fine, who else?” Josie asked.
“I’d want to keep Gin out of this part,” Asti said.
“Isn’t that what he’s best at?” Helene asked.
“We want to be able to infiltrate the party,” Verci said, picking up what Asti was probably thinking. “Most of us can fake service class, but not the sort of person who would get invited.”
“Right, that’s Pilsen,” Asti said. “Some distant fake lord who can get into Henterman’s good graces, perhaps. But the rest of us should try.”
“Even me?” Mila asked.
“No, we’re going to need Bessie and her boys,” Asti said. “Wherever the base house is . . .”
“Runners for messages, right,” Mila said. “Got it.”
“Yes, but also for this Lesk crew business,” Verci said, giving Asti a look. “We’re going to need eyes and ears.”
“Eyes and ears,” Mila said. She also gave Asti a pointed look. “But that’s all, right?”
“Right,” Asti said.
“Don’t Julie and I have to run the goxie shop, keep the cover?” Helene said. “I mean—”
Asti waved her off. “I’m not sure how useful that is anymore. Like you said, Poller is already sniffing around. You shutter the shop, he’ll go nutty trying to find out why. Might slip up.”
“We don’t make sales, we get booted,” Helene said.
Asti nodded. “Josie, in addition to the place to use as our base, some money to cover Helene and Julien at the goxie shop.”
Josie groaned a little and nodded.
“That a problem, Old Lady?” Asti asked, a little harsher than Verci would have.
“Of course it is,” she said. “I wasn’t anticipating this many expenses so quick after the last one. The money isn’t easily—”
“Just get it done,” Asti said. “We’ll work on getting us hired.”
* * *
“So, Mister—”
“Crile, sir,” Asti said, using a north shore accent from the Yeisha region of Patyma. “Pander Crile.”
“Crile.” Mister Canderell, the butler for the Henterman household, glanced over Asti’s forged letters of reference. Canderell was a jowly, ponderous man who clearly thought very highly of himself. He sat behind the desk in his small office, meticulously kept neat, with a half-filled decanter of wine the only sign of the man’s vice. “That is an interesting name, given that you are clearly of Kieran stock.”
“My mother’s side,” Asti said. “Always did favor her in looks, but my father in skill.”
“So you worked in the household of Baron Grentin,” Canderell said. “Your skills as a handyman are given commendation. I do not know the head butler of that household personally, or the Baron Grentin, but these papers are in good order.”
“Thank you kindly, sir,” Asti said. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“What brings a man like you to the city, Mister Crile? You’ve clearly come quite a way.”
“I’d hate to speak out of turn, Mister Canderell,” Asti said, lowering his voice, as if he was taking the man into his confidence. “I quite enjoyed the household of the Baron, but . . . they reached the point where regular repairs were not their priority.”
Canderell nodded. “I understand.”
“So I have a cousin who lives here who let me stay with him while I started looking for work. The city seems like it has quite a bit of opportunity.”
“Under normal circumstances, we would not be able to help you,” Canderell said. “However, the Lord Earl has intentions for an event in just a few days, and his previous event . . . did considerable damage to elements of the household. More than our man, Mister Ottick, can handle on his own. So a man of your talents—temporarily—would be useful.”
“Mister Canderell, I would appreciate it,” Asti said. “The opportunity to prove myself.”
“If your work is acceptable, of course, we would provide you with references. Local references would help you in seeking a permanent arrangement. Which, perhaps, might even be available here.”
“If Lord Henterman and his wife are pleased with my work, obviously. And I’ll do my best to make sure they are.”
“I’m sure you will, Mister Crile.” Canderell sighed. “Are you able to start immediately? There is quite a fair amount of work to be done over the next few days.”
“I believe I would,” Asti said. “I’ve got my tools with me, of course—”
“Of course.”
“I would like to send a note to my cousin, just to let him know that I’ve found work and not to expect me.”
“It is the polite thing to do,” Canderell said. He gathered a few items from his desk. “I can lend you stationery and ink, and you can give it to the third underbutler.” He handed the paper and other goods to Asti.
“The third underbutler?”
“This way,” Canderell said, leading Asti out of the office. “Is there a problem?”
“No, of course not, Mister Canderell, sir,” Asti said, digging thick into the role. “Just that the Baron only had the one. And then none.”
“There is no need to further detail the Baron’s troubles, Mister Crile. We believe in decorum in this household.”
“Of course, Mister Canderell,” Asti said.
“As we believe in decorum, you should respect the proper order of discipline. You, of course, will answer to Mister Ottick, and if there is a household matter to be discussed, bring it to one of the underbutlers. I should not be troubled unless there is a serious matter of immediate attention and none of those people are available.”
“Understood, sir,” Asti said as he was being led through the maze of servants’ hallways in the lower levels of the household. It would take him some time
to learn his way about.
“And the Earl and Her Ladyship—”
“I should not disturb in the slightest, sir,” Asti said. “I understand my place.”
“Lovely, Mister Crile. Ah, Mister Ungar.” Canderell brought Asti over to a livery-clad man who was coming down the hallway, who was a familiar face. “Are you finding your way about well enough?”
“Well enough,” Mister “Ungar” said.
“This is Mister Crile, who will be joining Mister Ottick as an assistant handyman,” Canderell said. “He’ll be writing a short note to his cousin and beginning work straight away. Would you watch over that, and then have one of the pageboys deliver his message?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And then bring Mister Crile out to Mister Ottick so he can be assigned his first duties. Mister Crile, I look forward to seeing your good work.”
“As you say, sir. Mister Crile?” Ungar—actually Win Greenfield—led Asti to a small nook as Canderell went off. He turned to Asti and smiled. “Looks like you got in.”
“Not yet,” Asti whispered to Win. “Close the door.”
Win did so. “You think people are listening to us?”
“I think we need to make sure not to break character. How the blazes did you get hired as the third underbutler? I thought you were going for a footman position.”
“Well, I was, but I am a bit old to be a footman, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s a young man’s position.” Win smiled. “Write your note. Like you said, in character.”
Asti started writing a coded message to Verci. “Right, but . . .”
“I grew up in a house not unlike this one. My father was the first underbutler for the Baron of Jontlen Cove, and in my youth I served as a footman. But then the household lost fortune . . .”
“That’s the story for a lot of noble houses.”
“So we came to the city to look for work, and I fell into an apprenticeship with a locksmith. But I know this work, as well as I know locks.”
“And Canderell spotted that?”
“Mister Canderell. Always use that with him and any man above you in station.”
“Right.”
Lady Henterman's Wardrobe Page 10
