"Factotum" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cornish D M)

IDIAS FINANCE

"So you side with the Archduke, Lord Sainte?"

Finance's genial manner finally slipped. "We have argued this at many turns, m'lady," he said gravely, "and you know my side is ever with you, limb and blood."

A pause lingered pregnantly.

The Baron pressed knuckle to lip again. "I might dare to offer that you consider leaving this city before we suffer more of Mister Bookchild's adventures."

Obstinacy flashed briefly in the fulgar's veiled thoughts, but her voice remained even. "We would be on the knave this very morning but for my cousin duke's beckoning."

Finance's mien brightened again, and he dipped his head in approval. "A politic endeavor, m'lady, its success working entirely in your favor and, I venture," he said with a pointed smile, "a better use of your servant's proclivity for mayhem…"

Rossamund could not determine whether he liked or loathed this fellow.

Smirk subsiding, the Baron went on. "An Imperial Secretary arrived not two days gone via Vesting High-one Scrupulus Sicus-come directly from the obscure fortress, Winstreslewe, to complain boldly to this city's senior lord of none other than yourself, dear duchess-daughter, verifying all the rumor of you with compelling clarity."

Rossamund fixed his attention on the passing streets, fully expecting some irate soul to step from the civic press, point and cry, "OUTRAGE! INFAMY! HERE IS THE BEASTLY BASKETLY BOY-MONSTER!"

"The Archduke was much moved to hear Secretary Sicus' report," Finance continued. "But he was most animated by the expositions brought by the Secretary's protege: a surgeon and archivist by the ridiculously quadrupled appellations of Honorius Ludius Grotius Swill."

Innards clenching, ears ringing, Rossamund stopped breathing.

Europe preserved her silence.

"This Swill fellow tells an uncommonly absorbing tale too, as simple as it is fabulous…" The Chief Emissary lingered pointedly, seeking a reaction. When it was not forthcoming, he pressed on. "He made claim to the nature of your young servant here… that he is not as he seems but is in truth the rarest tribe of creature, a monster in the form of a man, blaming the theroscades I hear are plaguing that region on this very allegation. He uttered his gruesome contentions with such credible passion-authenticated no less by Secretary Sicus himself-that he almost had me convinced…" Smiling, he inspected Rossamund briefly.

The young factotum swallowed against the constriction clutching at his gourmand's cork. That very moment they passed by the Moldwood Park, dark, pensive, a reminder and an accusation.

Europe blinked slowly at Finance, her jaw working as if chewing upon a morsel. "And are you…"

"Should I be, dear lady?" The Baron of Sainte's eyes narrowed.

"Of course not, man!"

His cheerful facade remained, but the subtleties in his expression told that he believed the duchess-daughter by choice rather than conviction.

"It is Swill and the temporary Marshal Whympre with him who are exciting the local nickers with their traffic in revermen," Europe continued. "To this my factotum can openly attest."

"Truly?" Finance looked fully at the young factotum, wonder hid behind the bright regard of his pearl-gray eyes.

Rossamund stiffened. "Yes, sir. I fought one of their gudgeons in the lower cellars of Winstermill."

"On your own?"

Rossamund flashed a look to Europe. "Aye, sir."

Gaze twinkling, the Baron Sainte continued to regard him sagely. "Shall I set my amphigorers to start contrary rumor of our own, gracious lady?"

"Your offer is well intentioned, sir, but must be refused," the heiress of Naimes returned. "This is my private embroilment, and despite my mother's tireless desire to intervene in my affairs, I am sure you have better things to do with your agents."

The baron gave another of his winningly warm smiles. "When it is to do with you, marvelous lady, nothing is purely private…"

Europe considered him with a calculating look. "Indeed."

They traveled in silence for a time, passing the grandiose architecture of the governing district, its towering, manycolumned structures replete with statues and whorled and knotted pediments and capitals. On some other, brighter day Rossamund might have wondered at them, but now they and all the grandiose folk that walked so elegantly beneath them went by unheeded.

"If I may, benevolent duchess-daughter," Baron Finance eventually said, in continued gravity, "your graciousness takes our state down a strange and difficult path."

Rossamund could see the man's gaze momentarily flick to him.

Passion flared in the deeps of Europe's eyes. "You can be assured, sir, that whatever path I take is the best to follow-and if it threatens otherwise, I will make sure that it becomes so."

The Chief Emissary bowed in his seat. "My lady will make a dread duchess," he said, and declared it an anno praeposter -an upside-down year.

The fulgar sighed a delicate laugh. "We all, dear Baron, are but murmurs in this tragical panto…"