The Horn provided something of an educational tradition with the aristocracy. Young men were often brought here by brothers or even fathers for their first (so far as the parent knew) sexual experiences. Then, as they grew older, they would come here by themselves or with friends to make a night of it—fine meals, gambling, entertainment, and then a romp. It wasn’t cheap—but Alberich wasn’t paying for this out of his own pocket. And there were times when he felt as if, given the number of candlemarks he had spent in the Broken Arms and other, even fouler dens, lurking on street corners in the freezing dark, getting soaked with rain or baking in the hot sun, that he had earned an occasional evening in the Horn. Even if all he did was have a meal and lurk.
He had heard that friends of the Prince were going to introduce him to the pleasures of the Horn, and as a consequence both of that, and of an internal prodding too vague to really be called Foresight, after the third night in which the Prince did not appear, Alberich began haunting the Horn nightly. He was a forgettable enough character that no one really noticed. And the Prince did, indeed, appear that first night, and every night subsequent.
Unfortunately, to Alberich’s vast disappointment, the Prince kept himself to the “exclusive” areas for the most part, and Alberich never saw more of him than his back as he swaggered through the public rooms and into the private areas.
It seemed, after three nights, that Alberich was wasting his time, that all the Prince was doing was roistering. Fine, he could bring this to Selenay, but what good would it do?
Yet that vague prodding only strengthened as the nights went on, and although he never got a glimpse of Foresight, after the fourth night he knew, with absolute certainty, that if he kept up his watch, something significant would happen.
And then, on the seventh night, it was not the Prince who became the center of attention when he walked in the door.
It was the actor, Norris. And with him was young Devlin.
Alberich was in a shadowy corner, slumped in one of the Horn’s supremely comfortable chairs, fingers interlaced over his “paunch,” chin on his chest, seeming to doze. This time he had chosen a seat because of the feeling that this was where he needed to be—again, it was a feeling and not a vision, nothing concrete, but he was certain that it was linked to his Foresight, and he acted on it. One of the young ladies had made certain to tuck a cushion on either side of him so that he wouldn’t put a crick in his neck; he had muttered vague and sleepy thanks, and she had giggled and left him alone. Now everyone seemed to have forgotten he was there, which gave him ample opportunity to watch the room from mostly-closed eyes.
When Myste had made absented herself from the theater, Alberich had continued to keep an eye on the actor at a distance, through other contacts, but there did not seem to be any sign of further chicanery. In fact, Norris was so busy, Alberich couldn’t see how he managed to find the time to sleep, much less write letters and find ways to pass them to anyone. In addition to rehearsing and performing, he spent every waking moment at the site of his new theater, obsessing over details and virtually flogging the workers into going faster.
But here he was, and as soon as they saw him, those young ladies who were not otherwise occupied left what they were doing and clustered around him with exclamations and coos of delight.
The odd thing was, although he put on a very good show of being pleased, and it was clear that young Devlin was nervously gratified to have him here, Alberich got the distinct impression that he very much would rather not be there.
Then again, as busy as the man was, Alberich wondered where he had found the time to come here in the first place.
The only possible corner of the room that could have been considered secluded was the one in which Alberich had ensconced himself. Norris accepted refreshments, teased and flirted with the ladies, but took none of them up the stairs, which was so entirely out of keeping with everything that Alberich knew about the man that he was immediately on alert. Devlin did not move from his side either, and it seemed to Alberich that the young noble was keeping a sharp watch on the door.
And perhaps three-quarters of a candlemark later, the Prince strolled in, with an escort of young sycophants.
Except that one of them apparently was not as much of a sycophant as the Prince had thought, because before Karathanelan could vanish, as usual, into one of the private parlors, that young man steered him over to Norris’ chair. Devlin and the other young man exchanged a glance; Devlin nodded, and within moments, the newcomer gathered up the Prince’s escort and hustled them into the private parlors.
“Highness,” Devlin said with a bow to the Prince. “Our patron wishes you to have a discussion with my friend.” And at that, he took himself off, going, not into the back like the others, but back out the front door.
Alberich was torn between following—for surely he was going to report to someone!—and staying to listen. But his own internal urging said stay, so stay he did.
And Norris, looking up indolently at the Prince, indicated with a nod that Karathanelan should take a seat beside him. “Run away, my beauties,” the actor said, in an amused tone of voice. “We gentlemen need to discuss things too delicate for your tender ears.”
With giggles and pretty pouts, as the Prince glared his outrage, the ladies did as they were told. “Sit down,” Norris said, and then, when the Prince did not move, repeated, with force, “Sit down. Now.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort!” the Prince said tightly. “I will have you horsewhipped and thrown into the street for your insolence!”
“You won’t if you know what’s good for you,” Norris said, without turning a hair. “I am here at the behest of, and doing a very great favor for, our mutual sponsor, and if you don’t sit down, I am going to walk out of here and tell him why I did so. You can see what will happen to you without his protection then, but I don’t recommend it.”
The Prince sat down.
“That’s better,” Norris said pleasantly.
“What about him?” the Prince growled, nodding at Alberich.
“Nothing to worry about.” Norris dismissed Alberich with a shrug. “He’s older than dirt, half senile, mostly deaf. I tested him—” Norris grinned then. “If he’d been conscious when I tipped little Kassie’s skirts up, he’d have at least twitched.”
Yes, and you aren’t quite as clever as you think, Alberich told him mentally. Because a real agent wouldn’t have reacted even if you’d taken the girl on the spot. He wasn’t sure he would have had the ability to remain “asleep,” but then again—he’d yawned through worse, down in the Broken Arms.