“He realized I was seeking a position beneath me, and well, I told him more or less the truth. Save the name. Thus he gave me this underbutler position.”
“Well, that’s useful. It puts you and me well placed to check out the whole house, and it gives us excuse to talk. I’m supposed to come to the underbutlers for any issue.”
“Good, yes,” Win said. “So what do we do?”
“Learn the house. Every room, door, and window. Find the weak points. Learn the patterns of the staff. Do you know if anyone else was hired?”
Win raised an eyebrow. “I know who wasn’t.”
Chapter 9
VERCI WAS JUST GETTING settled into the new safehouse in Colton when the door slammed open and shut again. Helene stalked into the kitchen where Verci was set up in his chair.
“I am not housemaid material.”
“I think we knew that already,” Verci said.
She pulled the pins out of her hair—done up in a prim bun that was common for the service class—slamming each one on the table as the curls of her dark hair cascaded down. “It shouldn’t bother me,” she said, “but that lady was so blasted snooty. Let me tell you something. Servants of fancy folk are far more stuck up than the actual fancy folk. Tell me there are ciders in the icebox.”
“There are,” Verci said.
“Who all is here?” she asked as she went to the icebox. She took out two bottles of cider, popped them open, and handed one to Verci.
Verci was surprised by the cider in his hand, but took a sip. “Almer is upstairs with Kennith, getting him settled in. Almer didn’t get hired either. And Pilsen is . . . around? He’s been in and out.”
Helene looked about the kitchen. “This is a decent place. How did Josie swing this?”
“I’m not sure, but I think Pilsen did—and is still doing—the legwork for it.”
Verci agreed with Helene—it was a good get for a safehouse, especially in Colton. It was a three-story townhouse—the sort of place that was incredibly narrow, wedged within a block of houses that were all identical. Each floor was only one room: root cellar, ground floor kitchen, first floor sitting room, and top floor bedroom. Verci had set himself up in the kitchen, so as not to navigate the stairs.
There was a knock at the door. Helene shifted her grip on the bottle, ready to throw it if she needed.
“Hold up,” Verci said, though his own instincts made him want to go for a weapon as well. “It’s just a knock.”
Almer came down the stairs and went to the door, and then came to the kitchen.
“Boy at the door with a note.” Almer Cort came over and handed it to Verci. “Addressed to Vernon Crile.”
“That’s the cousin in Asti’s cover,” Verci said, taking the note from Almer.
“So he probably got hired,” Almer said, a little bitterly.
“He did,” Verci said, looking over the note. “They want him to start working right away. And if I’m understanding his message, so did Win.”
“Good for Win,” Almer said. “How’s your foot? You want anything for the pain?”
The pain in Verci’s foot was just a hair below unbearable. “If you can.”
“I can,” Almer said. “But it’s gonna taste horrible.”
“Why, Almer? Why does it always taste bad?”
“It helps you to not like it too much. And this stuff . . . it’s real easy to like it too much.” He went into his bag. “But I’ll leave you some for the next day or two, and send more later. Best not to have a lot on hand.”
“Where are you going?” Verci asked. “I figured you’d be helping here.”
“I’m going back home, I’ve got a shop to run.”
Helene laughed. “I thought Asti said not to bother with our covers now.”
Almer sneered at her. “It’s not a cover, it’s my shop. It’s important to me. If you all need something, I’m there for you. But I’m not going to cool my heels here just in case.”
“I understand,” Verci said, though he didn’t like it. “Just keep your ears open. And be there for Mila if she needs anything.”
“What is she doing?” Almer asked. “I barely understand what you’re doing here.”
“So I’m not the only one?” Kennith called from the room upstairs. He came down. “I mean, I guess I’m just plain hiding. What about the rest of you?”
Helene shrugged. “Extra eyes, research. Backup if needed. Plus Asti has established a cover, including having a cousin—that’s Verci, for all intents.”
Verci nodded. “So I need to be seen living here, just in case someone else from the household comes by.”
“And I need to not be seen at all,” Kennith said. “Look, I’m just useless on this. I can’t go anywhere. There’s no place for a carriage or horses. I might as well—”
“Ken,” Verci said. “I need you here because I need a pair of hands I trust with tools. And we need you safe. It’s not fun, I know.”
“I once spent a whole winter hiding in an attic, son.” Pilsen came up from the root cellar.
“Weren’t you outside?” Verci asked. “You didn’t come back in, and you certainly didn’t go down there.”
“This house was used by wine-runners back in the ration days of the war,” Pilsen said. “Oh, you’re all too young. Point is, there’s a hidden latch down there to a tunnel that comes out about a block away. I went to check on that. It’s all good and safe.”
“You could have mentioned that before,” Verci said.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“I don’t want to spend the summer hiding,” Kennith said.
“I’m sure,” Pilsen said, putting a hand on Ken’s shoulder. He glanced out the window for a moment. “I do want to help you bear this, though.”
Kennith raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“Here we are,” Pilsen said, going to the main door. He opened it just as a man carrying a large bundle was about to knock.
“Is this package for Kendall Rell?” the man asked.
“You got his name wrong, dear,” Pilsen said. “Probably for the best.”
“I was supposed to do the whole thing with playing the delivery man.”
“Get inside, you foolish boy,” Pilsen said, pulling the young man inside. Verci recognized him as Pilsen’s friend, the one he called his “puppy”. As long as Verci had known Pilsen, he had kept a young man around as an “apprentice”, and this one was just the latest.
“What’s this?” Verci asked.
“You’re off your foot, Ken can’t be seen, I figured we needed some extra help,” Pilsen said. He grabbed the man’s face and squeezed it. “And look at him. He’s so eager and adorable.”
“Pilsen!” he said. “You’re making me look silly.”
“God and the saints did that, puppy,” Pilsen said, kissing him on the cheek.
“I never caught your name,” Verci said cautiously.
“Vellun,” the young man said, extending a hand out to Verci while still clutching the bundle to his chest. “Vellun Colsh.”
“All right, Vellun. If Pilsen vouches for you—”
“Of course I do.”
“Then we can use you, I’m sure.”
“How does this help me?” Kennith asked.
“Oh, yes!” Vellun said, shoving the bundle into Kennith’s hands. “This is for you!”
Kennith took it and opened it up on the table. “My peppers! And okra!” He smiled at Pilsen and Vellun. “You harvested this for me?”
“Seemed the least that could be done, son,” Pilsen said.
“It does mean a lot,” Kennith said. He squinted at Vellun for a moment. “I’m going to send you to the market for me.”
“Whatever I can do, Mister Rell.”
“Rill,” Kennith said. “Let’s make a list.”
Kenn
ith and Vellun went over to the table.
“Nice thinking, Pilsen,” Verci said.
“I have my moments. Now, I must be off.”
“Again?”
Pilsen crouched down next to Verci’s chair. “I’m not sure if you realize how bad of a hit Josie has taken in the past few months.”
“I imagine,” Verci said. “I knew she dropped most of her lieutenants.”
“More like they vanished.”
“She doesn’t trust us enough to tell us straight?” Verci asked.
“I do know we’re about the only ones who even see her anymore,” Pilsen said. “Mersh is long gone, and he’d been with her for years. Blazes, boy, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who does her legwork now. I’ve been running around half the city, playing her lieutenants.”
Verci wondered when the blazes this had happened. Had he been so wrapped up in the plan on Colevar and Associates? Or was Josie being good about hiding it? “To what end, Pilsen?”
“Mostly to the end of protecting our nest, maintaining what power and contacts that she still has.”
“Why’d she go to you?”
“Josie and I do go back a piece, son. We were already seasoned salts when your father got into the game. She trusts that I’m too old and tired to bother betraying her.”
“You’re being careful, right?”
“Do you even know me, Verci?” Pilsen shook his head. “I’ve played five different people in her ‘organization,’ and none of them are Pilsen Gin. I’m safe. She’s safe. You and Asti are safe.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I know, son,” Pilsen said, rubbing Verci’s head. “I should get going.”
“Stay sharp,” Verci said.
He went to the door. “I’ll keep you up to date on Josie, don’t you worry.”
“I’ll head back with you,” Almer said, putting a couple vials on the table. “Drink only half of that every twelve hours. No more. Less if you can manage, honestly.”
“Fine.”
“Are you staying here?” he asked Helene.
“I suppose I still can,” Helene said, glancing at Verci. “I presume you need someone here to help you get around and such.”
“I’m still working that out, but thanks,” Verci said.
Almer nodded. “Make sure he doesn’t take more than what I told him. Hide it from him if you have to.” He pointed to Kennith and Vellun. “You two as well.”
“Fine,” Kennith said, waving him off. “See you later.”
Almer and Pilsen left. Verci sighed and rolled himself over to the door to make sure it was latched. He was surprised to find Helene right with him, guiding his chair.
“You all right?” she asked.
“I’m wondering how much good I’ll be to Asti and the plan from here.”
She smirked and took a sip of her cider. “So Julie made it in at the fancy house.”
“He did?” That was somewhat of a surprise. “What job did he get?”
“Get this,” Helene said, pulling a chair over to him and sitting down. “Cook’s helper.”
“Really?”
“I only saw him from a distance, but he looked so rutting happy, you have no idea. And it’s good, because I think it broke his heart to abandon the goxie shop.”
“You two can go back to it once this is done.”
Helene scowled. “I don’t like it. I only worked it because you and your mad brother said we needed to keep a ‘cover.’ I could do with not smelling like pork and cheese every day.”
“Then we’ll come up with a better cover for you,” Verci said. “You shouldn’t be miserable.”
“You’ve got it easy,” Helene said. “Your wife runs a bakery, and you’re still putting up the pretext that you’re opening the Gadgeterium.”
“We will still do it,” Verci said. “Trust me, this business . . .”
Helene leaned in closer. “I know,” she said in a soft whisper. “I’m in, because I want to make sure that the folks who hurt us get what’s coming. And I’m certainly not going anywhere while he’s in there. But . . . I don’t want thirty years to pass and find myself like Josie or Pilsen, you know?”
“I know. I’ve got to do right by Raych and Corsi.”
“Right,” Helene said, leaning back. “And you should.”
Verci mused quietly. Raych was not happy about him coming out here, being gone for days. She didn’t understand, even still. Helene, she got it. Why couldn’t Raych?
Helene was still staring at him, had been for a bit. Finally she broke away and took a long sip of cider. “We can get to the roof of this place, huh?” she asked loudly.
“Laundry line up there,” Kennith said from the table.
“Good,” she said. “It’s a bit of an incline walk from East Maradaine to here. It’s eight blocks, but maybe I can get a clear view of Henterman Hall from up there.”
“Maybe,” Verci said. She stood up and went to the stairs. “You gonna need a new scope that could see that far?”
“No need, Rynax,” she said. “I can see everything just fine right now.”
* * *
Mister Ottick was an old man with stringy, thinning hair on his head, and thick, bushy hair on his face and hands. The constant look on his face was that of a man who had just swallowed a fly. He seemed to take to Asti’s presence as well as Asti could expect. “Well, you don’t seem to be completely stupid. We’ve got a lot of work to do in the next three days.”
“Three days?” Asti asked. “Is that when the party is?”
“No, you blighter,” Ottick said. “It’s in four days, but the work’s got to be done by then.”
“Right,” Asti said.
“So, first things first. Most important repairs are in the ballroom. We’ve got to tighten up the candle sconces and lamp fixtures. Damn fools were all hanging from them at the last party.”
“Is that how it goes at these parties, then?” Asti asked.
“I don’t want to know what his Lordship and his friends get into. And neither should you.”
“Fair enough,” Asti said, letting Ottick lead him up through the back stairways through the household. He spotted Julie hard at work in the kitchen. Good. Three of them in the household was solid. If one of them got caught or fired, the other two were still in there.
Not that he could count on Win or Julie to do what he could. He was already mapping the whole house out in his head, noting the various members of the staff, where they worked, where they went. Kitchens, services rooms, and staff offices on the lowest level. Back stairways leading to the main halls on the ground level. Foyer, dining room, breakfast room, ballroom, library.
Second floor had servant quarters on the east side, with more back stairways leading to the lower levels. Open stairways to the west side, where there were guest bedrooms and the Lord’s private study. Two separate third-floor sections, with grand stairways leading up to them, for each of the Lord and Lady’s sleeping and dressing chambers.
Strange habit of nobility, being married and sleeping in completely separate parts of the house. One couldn’t easily sneak from one bedroom to the other without walking in full view of the hallway. You’d even be seen from the foyer. It’d be easier to sneak to—or sneak someone from—any of the guest bedrooms.
Perhaps that was the point.
“Ballroom,” Ottick said as they entered the grand room. “Let’s get to work on the floor paneling first.”
Asti had worked with his brother on enough build projects to look competent at the job. Nothing extraordinary—certainly nothing to impress Ottick—but enough to keep working. He got his tools out, he asked questions, and worked with his head down.
All the while, he figured out the ballroom. For the event, this was the key room to focus on. Five exits on this floor. One t
o the foyer, one to the dining room, two service entrances, and one he didn’t know. Two curving staircases that led to an upper balcony, and hallways that vanished, though there were smaller gallery boxes that overlooked the room. Those hallways probably led to the rest of the upstairs.
“What about the staircases?” Asti asked.
“Ayuh, the banisters are all out of heevy,” Ottick said. “I think some drunk fool tried to slide down them.”
“Is this how it goes?” Asti asked.
“You gonna keep asking that question?”
“I mean, the party wrecks half the house, we fix it in time for the next?”
“You haven’t met his Lordship yet.”
“No, sir,” Asti said. “I got the impression from Mister Canderell that I shouldn’t bother with that.”
“I shouldn’t talk out of turn,” Ottick said, glancing around. “Let’s just say I’m surprised he married her Ladyship.”
“So that’s a new thing, there being a lady in the house?” Asti asked. Not that he really cared about things like that, but any information might be useful. “And that hasn’t changed the parties?”
“Changed the nature of the parties a bit,” Ottick said. “At least from what I hear. I stay in my shed those nights. And—where are you sleeping?”
“I have a cousin in Colton. I come in from there.”
“Probably wise.”
“Mister Ottick.” Win had come in through the main doors in his Ungar persona. He walked across the ballroom toward Ottick. “There is a situation with the main doors that Mister Canderell feels you should attend to personally.”
“Rutting blazes,” Ottick said, and Win put on an act of looking shocked. “All right, I’m coming. Crile, keep on these floorboards.”
“Very good,” Win said, nodding to him as Ottick went off. While Ottick was gathering up his tools, Win dropped a note in Asti’s toolkit. Asti had to commend Win for his skill there. It was a good quiet drop.
“I’ll keep on it, sir,” Asti said as they went out the doors.
“Drop that ‘sir’ sewage,” Ottick yelled back, and they were already gone before Asti could respond.
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