style="font-size:15px;"> The star Utaru in the constellation of the Thief had been watching the whole scene from behind a cloud and winked dryly.
Part II. Blind Nobility
Chapter 1. How to Have Adventures
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Of course it is.”
The two friends had stopped by the same place many days in a row, but only now was their persistence rewarded.
“I remember his face,” drawled Sorgius, rubbing his fingertips together comically. “Look at him smiling like a reflection in a bad mirror!”
The face of the dandy in a purple robe with gold embroidery who sat two tables away from them really did look like a flattened reflection in a crude mirror, the kind made by Torgendam craftsmen trying to imitate the work of masters from Capotia or the Empire’s central provinces. The effect was intensified by his hair, which was swept up and back in the latest style.
“I bet that haystack would burn if we touched a spark to it,” sniggered Sorgius.
“Only if absolutely necessary,” Vordius replied. “Here I go.”
“Patience, brother,” Sorgius stopped him. “Talking is my specialty. Sit still and watch the expert at work!”
Song of the Star had a dubious reputation among Enteveria’s taverns, and not just because it was frequented by people who earned their living by the knife. In the many years since the popular tavern had opened, no one had ever figured out what drew people to it: the food, the drink, the dancing, the easy women, or the wafting scent of aromatic weeds being smoked? At Song of the Star, family men and their wives sat next to arrogant toughs from the port discussing business affairs that lay most decidedly outside the law, all to the vulgar laughter of courtesans with kohled eyes and rouged cheeks. In this atmosphere, strangers often found themselves on friendly terms, and Sorgius used that fact to his advantage as he moved in on his target.
“Hello, old friend! You haven’t been here in ages. What are you drinking?” He eyed the man’s cup. “Never mind.” He caught the eye of a server and gestured confidently. “Waiter! Bring us a jug of Tasquilian dry!” And then, with a grin, he turned back to the stranger, who was now on his guard. “No worries, it’s on me.” The two young women who had been sitting with the man smiled brightly at Sorgius and waited to see what would happen next.
“I want to drink the health of these lovely ladies, so we must have the best wine!” he announced to his new friends. Two of the three smiled.
“Tasquilian is worth the money,” the man drawled as he put an arm around each young woman, “but we prefer dark Vuravian grapes.”
“Of course, I remember,” Sorgius leaned back in his chair, looking delighted. “You drank something like that two weeks ago. That was the time you were here with that little redhead. The one that came over and joined me later.” There was steel in his smile now.
“What little redhead? Asked the woman on the left. Her voice was deep and impressive, like her cleavage.
“I have no idea what he’s going on about,” the dandy tried to look indifferent. He attempted to change the subject back to wine. “I’m surprised you like Tasquilian. It knocks you off your feet.”
The young women laughed again, but this time awkwardly.
“Don’t you remember?” Sorgius pressed on, crossing his legs and staring down his adversary. “Her name was Fenia. Or was it Fellia? She told me all kinds of things about you. For example…”
“That’s enough!” cried his victim. “We weren’t bothering you. Why don’t you find another table? There are plenty of empty ones.”
“Oh, don’t get all riled up. I just want the address of that little redhead. She got me three sheets to the wind that night and then up and disappeared before I could get to know her better. You understand!”
“I don’t know any redheads!” the dandy insisted. He turned to his companions, “Don’t listen to him – he’s drunk!” Then he leaped up from his chair and quickly made for the exit.
“My goodness,” Sorgius raised his eyebrows. “How long has he been having these fits?” The young women glanced at each other, at a loss for words.
“Here you are again, fooling around with the women while your whole purpose goes up in smoke,” someone hissed in his right ear. “Just keep sitting there, big professional!” It was Vordius. As soon as he spoke, he was gone.
Sorgius pushed his chair back. “Ladies, this will just take a minute!” he tossed over his shoulder as he raced after his friend.
The two women cried foul. “You forgot to pay!” It was their first attempt at hunting for fat wallets among the ladies’ men of Enteveria, and they ended up having to pay out of their own thin purses for a jug of the most expensive wine in the house.
“Keep up with him no matter what, even if he notices you. When he turns around, wave at him friendly-like. I’ll be on the other side of the street…”
Sorgius looked doubtful. “What if he gets in a carriage and drives off?”
But they were in luck. The dandy passed by the waiting carriages and hurried down the Avenue of Twelve Virtues, trying unsuccessfully to melt into the crowd. He turned around frequently to see if he was being followed, and soon caught sight of Sorgius. This sent him skittering into a side street. Sorgius ran after him.
Again, he was in luck. The narrow lane was lined by high fences, and when the dandy finally found a gap and tried to slip through it, he ran right into a hulk of a man who threw him easily against the fence on his right.
“Watch out, Sorgius!” Vordius called to his friend.
His shoulder bruised, the dandy sized up the situation and pulled out a short dagger.
“Stay back or I’ll draw blood!” he said hoarsely, his eyes darting from one to the other.
“What is that you’re holding?” Vordius asked, hands on hips. “Civilians in the Empire are prohibited from carrying weapons of war…”
“Let me go!” screeched their victim, waving the dagger.
“…and I’m going to have to confiscate that from you,” the Imperial Guard finished his sentence.
He leaped smoothly to one side, tossing his cape over the dandy’s head and easily knocking his feet out from under him.
He picked up the knife while the dandy writhed in pain. “This isn’t good for much more than peeling apples, but you could put your eye out with it.” He stooped and retrieved his cape. “Now, what’s your name?”
“Sermey,” the dandy whispered. “Senius Sermey. I have money,” he touched his belt. “Just let me go!”
“Money is nice,” Vordius smiled, “but that’s not what I need from you.”
Sermey’s eyes were as round as plates as he imagined all sorts of unpleasant things.
“What I
