It was astonishing. Because then, no matter how late he’d been out, there he was again, looking alert and fresh and ready to go, no later than noon, to rehearse with the company.
“I know not how he does it,” Alberich said, as he accompanied Myste, in his guise as “her friend from the Army, the carter,” back to the Companion’s Bell where she was ostensibly staying. They had just watched Norris drink enough to make Alberich’s head reel, then take three whores up to his room. Only one thing was certain; he wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. Thank the Sunlord. Alberich didn’t think he could have made another late night of it himself.
“Nor does anyone else,” Myste admitted. “Especially not his head for drink! That man can drink any three under the table, and I am not exaggerating, because I’ve seen it with my own eyes. And the next day, you’d never know he’d taken a drop.”
Alberich licked his lips thoughtfully. “A useful talent, for an agent.”
“Damn right it is.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, and adjusted her lenses. “What’s more—and this is a woman’s intuitive observation, so take it with whatever grains of salt you choose—I don’t see that he has anything that you could exploit as a weakness. Not even for women.”
Alberich gave her a dubious glance. “Pardon?”
“He uses them,” she elaborated, “but he has no use for them. I think, they’re like food for him—he satisfies his appetite, and he does have a hearty appetite, but once he’s through, he pays no more attention to them than he would to the shepherd’s pie he just finished eating. He pushes away the leftovers, and wants them cleared away. I’ve watched him with his women, remember. Quite a lot more than he thinks I have, actually. I have yet to see him show any emotional attachment to anyone, woman or man. He acts as if he does, says all the right things, and it is superb acting, yes—actually quite a bit better and far more subtle than anything he does on stage. But so far as I can tell, there’s nothing genuine behind the words and the gestures.”
“Well,” Alberich said thoughtfully. “Well, well, well. I think it is good that I have never tried to come too near to him, or I might have been swiftly found out. But that makes me concerned for you—”
She nodded. “It makes me concerned for me, too, believe me, and the only things I have in my favor are that he thinks I’m besotted and under his thumb, that I’m not ornamental to look at so he spends as little time as he can get away with doing so, and that he does not think that women in general are particularly intelligent. I expect,” she added thoughtfully, “that he regards me rather in the line of a trained dog. Quite clever at performing the tricks I’ve been taught, and utterly devoted to my masters, but not really capable of thinking for myself.”
“Which would make, I think, other women his lap dogs,” Alberich pointed out, continuing the analogy. “Good for ornament, and sensually pleasant, but otherwise utterly useless.”
She laughed aloud at that. “Oh, I wish some of his light’o’loves could hear you say that of them! How he manages to keep them from tearing him to bits in jealousy is beyond me.”
“Perhaps they are in truth as utterly besotted as he thinks you to be,” Alberich observed. “Or else, he has the gift of golden speech.”
“Both, I think.” She shook her head. “You know, as often as I see it, I’m still amazed at how self-deluded a lot of women are. A man says one thing, and does something else, and they believe the words and not the actions.”
“That behavior is not restricted to women,” Alberich pointed out. “Are his fellow actors not equally deceived in thinking him a grand fellow?”
“Hmm. That’s true enough.” They were nearly at the Bell, but neither of them made the turn that would take them into the alley and the back way. “Alberich, I don’t believe we’re alone.”
“So you have noticed.” Someone had been following them for some time. Alberich had been certain of it about a third of the way back.
“I’m not usually good at this, but I heard a footstep that I know just before I said something. It’s Norris.”
Well, that put a different complexion on things. “So the three bawds—?”
“A ruse. Maybe he isn’t as sure of me as I thought. So—hmm. Now what do we do?”
“You go up to your room, and I say good night. Then I see what your friend does next.”
They had, because Alberich always liked to plan for every possible contingency, planned for this one as well. Myste did have a room here—in fact, it was one of several that Heralds could use if they needed one; if, for instance, there was a major convocation of Heralds and all the beds at the Collegium were full. They were very spartan in nature, hardly more than closets with bunks in them, identical to the servants’ rooms and exactly the sort of thing that a clerk would get in trade for his services to an inn. So when they reached the door of the Bell, they parted company as old friends rather than anything more intimate, and Myste used her key to the side entrance where the long-term residents and inn servants had their rooms. Alberich clumped off, made certain that their follower hadn’t followed him, then reversed his coat to the matte-black side, and ghosted back.
Sure enough, there was Norris, hidden, and hidden relatively well, in a shadow across the street. After a moment, one of the little windows in the garret rooms glowed as a candle was brought inside. Alberich was about to suggest to Myste with Mindspeech that she go to the window, when she did just that without his needing to prompt her. She not only went to it, she opened it, and sat in it for several moments, as if enjoying the warm, spring night. Even though she was probably dying to peer down into the street to look for their follower, she did nothing of the sort; instead, she took off her lenses, rubbed her eyes as if she was tired, and sat back with her head against the side of the window frame and her eyes—as far as Alberich could tell—closed.
:Is the kitty still stalking me?:
:Yes, he is,: Alberich replied.
:Persistent beast. I don’t suppose you can think of anything that will make him go away?:
:I am working on just that,: he told her, although in truth, he was coming up rather dry as to ideas.
After all the times when his admirers have been a nuisance to get around, this is one time when I wish some of them would appear, he thought crossly.
:How many would you like?: came Kantor’s interested query.
He blinked. :Why do you ask?:
:Because there is an entire table full of young women from the audience this evening here. They wanted to get a table there, but you know how it is—:
Yes, indeed, Alberich knew very well how it was. Norris’ company was, by far, the most popular in Haven in a very long time. On the nights when there were plays, it was impossible to get a table in his inn, either before or after the play. The innkeeper had taken to doing the unheard of—making reservations for tables. There were people who had waited as long as three weeks before being able to take their pre-play dinner or after-play supper in Norris’ presumed presence.