«And you call yourself a Sensate,» TeeMorgan muttered. He stomped off to get me a plate.
Lady Erin arrived just as a nearby clock chimed six in the morning. I had been dozing lightly on a couch in her office, an exotic piece of furniture upholstered with a hide I suspected had once been attached to a basilisk.
«Don't be gettin' up,» she said as she bustled in and threw a stack of papers onto her desk. «I've only a few words to say, then I'll let you get back to sleep. You'll need all the rest you can get.»
«May I ask why, my lady?»
«Special duty in the service of our faction,» she replied. «I've convinced the other factols someone's systematically attacking all our faction headquarters. Naturally, it's too much to expect that we band together against a common foe…» She threw a rueful glance over her shoulder in the general direction of the Hall of Speakers. "But we've worked out a tiny cooperative effort.
«Each faction,» she went on, «will protect its headquarters however it sees fit. Here at the Festhall, we'll have to hire mercenaries, and won't that add to the cheery atmosphere? But that's not your problem. The council also agreed to assemble cross-factional teams of observers outside each headquarters – not helpin' with protection but watchin' for suspicious activities. If an attack or disaster takes place, the teams are forbidden to involve themselves; we don't want them gettin' distracted by a showy diversion. Observer teams'll hold back and look smaller things… like a githyanki and githzerai runnin' out the back door of the building.»
«I assume you want me on one of these teams?» I said.
«Exactly,» she nodded. «You have a keen eye, and you've seen the thieves. That's an advantage I don't want to waste. Also, I understand you can take care of yourself if it comes to a fight… right?»
She smiled at me as if that were a joke – as if we both knew that the son of Niles Cavendish had to be a formidable warrior. Surely my father taught me all his fighting tricks.
No. He taught me nothing.
For months, sometimes years at a time, the legendary adventurer simply wasn't home: off swashbuckling through the multiverse, leaving my mother and me to struggle through on our own. When he came home his pockets were full of gold; but after a brief splurge of gift-giving, he would spend the rest of his purse on equipment for his next foray, leaving us alone again with nothing. Yes, I did learn to use the rapier, but not from my father. I learned my skills, such as they are, from dearly hired swordmasters – in my youth, because I thought learning the sword would impress my father if he ever took the time to notice, then later because so many brash young bashers believed they could make their reputations by challenging a Cavendish.
On the eve of my twentieth birthday, the survivors of my father's last expedition brought his rapier back and told us he was «lost»… not killed for certain, just lost. Vanished without a trace, one night in the Outlands. And even though we knew he had to be dead, my mother and I still couldn't shake off the slim hope he might one day show up on the doorstep, smiling, charming, full of stories. Year after year we hoped; until now, after twelve years, hope had become a tired thing that only occasionally returned to torment us, when a stranger's voice or walk suddenly brought to mind the great flamboyant Niles.
Lost is worse than dead. But I had my father's rapier, and yes, I did know how to fight.
«I can protect myself,» I told Lady Erin. «If it comes to that.»
«We hope it doesn't,» she nodded. «If you catch sight of those thieves again, don't go tryin' anything brave; just follow them back to their base of operations. Once we know where they are… well, this group has killed people from four different factions, so we'll have no problem findin' volunteers to rip the berks to pieces.»
«How much do the other factions know?» I asked. «Did you tell them the attack at the court building was just a diversion for the theft?»
Lady Erin shook her head. «I didn't want to give away the dark in an open meeting. Not that I think any factol is behind this, but some of those berks have notoriously loose lips. They've agreed the observation teams should track suspicious persons, and that's enough. We'll make sure each team has a Sensate, Guvner, or Harmonium guard who knows the chant and is watchin' for the right things.»
«So there won't be someone from each faction on every team?»
«Heaven forbid!» she laughed grimly. «I'm aimin' for five or six people per team. With so much distrust between factions, it'll be hard enough to get a half dozen sods to work together without comin' to blows; representin' all fifteen factions would make the job impossible. I have firsthand experience – I've just come from a meetin' of all fifteen factions.» She gave a rueful grin.
«So these teams…» I said. «You'll want us watching twenty-four hours a day?»
She nodded. «Each faction'll set up an observation post for you, somewhere with a good close view of the headquarters building. Runners'll bring you regular meals – on the sly, of course, so the enemy doesn't notice. It'll be up to the teams to decide who sleeps when, but there should be at least two people peelin' an eye for trouble at all times.»
«And we keep watching until something happens.»
«You keep watchin' until you have to stop.» Lady Erin walked around to the well-padded chair behind her desk, and slumped into it wearily. «Joint efforts between factions never last long, Britlin. Minor differences become major squabbles, arguments become brawls, and eventually you get duels, fights, puttin' each other in the dead-book… the factols all promise to pick their most 'tolerant' people, but still I'd guess we have three days tops before the operation falls apart. If even one team gets out of hand, it'll spike our try at secrecy and the enemy'll know what we're up to. So,» she said, «you keep watching till you or some other team blows the dark. After that, there's no point.»
Three days. Three days out of my schedule, with the deadline for Guvner Hashkar's commission coming up. Since the first painting had burned in the fire, I'd have to start again from scratch… but then, if Guvner Hashkar wanted a picture of the rotunda as it looked now, I could just smear black paint all over the canvas. There was a statement for you.
Anyway, I had no choice – a man doesn't refuse a special assignment from his factol. In the morning, I'd ask Lady Erin to send a note to Hashkar, regretfully stating he'd have to find some other wedding present for his wife's cousin.
There was, however, one more matter that had to be handled tonight. «What about Hezekiah?» I asked. «We can't let him rattle his bone-box all around the city if we're trying to keep this business dark.»
«I've been thinkin' about that,» Lady Erin answered, «and it strikes me it's high time Outsiders were allowed to play a more active role in city politics. At the last census, they outnumbered every established faction in Sigil… includin' the Chaosmen who all filled out five census forms apiece. Such a hefty number of folks deserve representation in some way; and postin' Hezekiah to an observation team strikes me as the perfect first step.»
I winced. «Whose team did you have in mind?»
The factol just smiled.