‘No. What family?’
‘What?’
‘This Mistress-what House docs she belong to?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘No idea.’’She’s from the countryside?’
Think so.’
‘Well, has any noble died recently that might have pulled her in? Inheritance, I mean?”
‘How should I know? You think I bother keeping track of who’s dead in that crowd? They ain’t nothing to me, is my point.’
‘We should’ve asked Kruppe-he’d know.’
‘Well we didn’t and it don’t matter at all. We got us legitimate work, the three of us. We’re on our way to being, well, legitimate. So just stop questioning everything, Tor! You’re going to ruin it!’
‘How can a few reasonable questions ruin anything?’
‘It just makes me nervous,’ Scorch replied. ‘Oh, by the way, you can’t see the castellan.’
‘Why? Who else would I talk to about getting hired?’
‘No, that’s not what I mean. I mean you can’t see him. All wrapped up in rags. With a hood, and gloves, and a mask. That’s what I mean. His name is Studlock.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Why not? That’s his name.’
‘The castellan is bundled like a corpse and you don’t find that somewhat un-usual?’
‘Could be afraid of the sun or something. No reason to be suspicious. You never met any strange people in your day, Tor?’
And Torvald Nom glanced across at Scorch, and found he had no reply to that at all.
‘I see you have found another candidate,’ Studlock said. ‘Excellent. And yes, he will do nicely. Perhaps as the Captain of the House Guard?’
Torvald started. ‘I haven’t said a word yet and already I’m promoted?’
‘Comparative exercise yields confidence in this assessment. Your name is?’
‘Torvald Nom.’
‘Of House Nom. Might this not prove a conflict of interest?’
‘Might it? Why?’
‘The Mistress is about to assume the vacant seat on the Council.’
‘Oh. Well, I have virtually no standing in the affairs of House Nom. There are scores of us in the city, of course, with ties stretching everywhere, including off-continent. I, however, am not involved in any of that.’
‘Were you cast out?’
‘No, nothing so, er, extreme. It was more a question of… interests.’
‘You lack ambition.’
‘Precisely.’
‘That is a fine manicure, Torvald Nom.’
‘Er, thank you. I could recommend…’ but that notion dwindled into a painful silence and Torvald tried hard to not glance down at the castellan’s bandaged fingers.
At this moment Leff appeared from round the other side of the main house
His lips and his eyes were bright orange,
Scorch grunted. ‘Hey, Leff. Remember that cat you sat on in that bar once?’
‘What of it?’
‘Nothing. Was just reminded, the way its eyes went all bulgy and crazed,’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. Was just reminded, is all. Look, I brought Tor.’
‘I see that,’ snarled Leff. ‘I can see just fine, thank you.’
‘What’s wrong with your eyes?’ Torvald Nom asked. ‘Tincture,’ said Leff. ‘I got me a case of Greva worms.’
Torvald Nom frowned. ‘Humans can’t get Greva worms. Fish get Greva worms, from eating infected conch.’
Leff’s bulging orange eyes bulged even more. Then he spun to face the castellan.
Who shrugged and said, ‘Jurben worms?’
Torvald Nom snorted. ‘The ones that live in the caverns below? In pockets of green gas? They’re as long as a man’s leg and nearly as thick.’
The castellan sighed. ‘The spectre of misdiagnosis haunts us all. I do apologize, Leff. Perhaps your ailments are due to some other malady. No matter, the drops will wash out in a month or two.’
‘I’m gonna have squished cat eyes for another month?’
‘Preferable to Greva worms, I should think. Now, gentlemen, let us find the house clothier. Something black and brocaded in gold thread, I should imagine. House colours and all that. And then, a brief summary of your duties, shifts, days off and the like.’
‘Would that summary include wages?’ Torvald Nom asked.
