There were mutterings into my mind, but he flew off. I got Marsi headed in the right direction and started out of town.
"Where is he going, Loiosh?"
"Looks like back to the Hat, Boss, just as carefree as you please."
"I don't suppose you can go in there. I want to see if he's meeting with someone. Dammit."
"If there's a window open I can stick my snakey little head through it."
"Yeah, I guess that's the best we can do."
I continued my leisurely pace out of town.
"Whoops, guess I was wrong, Boss. He's not going into the inn, he's going behind it."
"Oh, that's interesting."
"To the stables"
"Good place to find a horse."
"He's talking to the stable-boy."
"Can you get close enough to listen?"
"I'll try ... yes. Boss, he's asking about you, Where you went and how long ago."
"Is he getting answers?"
"No. Wait. Money is changing hands. Yes, he's getting answers.”
I thought hard about turning around right then, but it seemed that as long as I was getting information, this was working and I should stay with it. And the visit to the Count was too important to throw over.
"Okay, he's done talking to the stable-boy. He's heading away from the inn and . . . he seems to be going across town."
It was a pleasant day for a ride, I have to say. And Marsi was as delightful as ever. Rocza seemed to consider herself fully on duty; she kept looking around, and sometimes leaving my shoulder to fly in a wide circle overhead.
Then, "There's a warehouse near the docks with an overhanging doorway. He's in the doorway, looks like he's waiting for someone."
"All right.”
More countryside went by. A few birds sang, and I passed a flock of sheep grazing on a low hill with no shepherd in sight. It was calm and peaceful and pastoral and I loosened my rapier in its sheath because I don't trust calm and peaceful and pastoral.
"Oh my, Boss! You'll never guess who just showed up to meet him."
"The Empress?"
"Funny."
"Tell.”
"Remember that tag who told you about the coachman? Well, she hasn't left town."
Well. Well.
Now, just how was I going to fit that into my calculations?
"Well, Boss? Just how are you going to fit that into your calculations?"
"I'm just working on that, Loiosh. Can you get close enough to hear what they're saying?"
"No way, Boss. I'm right above them, and they're talking too low to hear."
"Damn. Okay, can you instruct Rocza to follow one of them, while you follow the other? I really want to know where they both go."
"And leave you unprotected?"
"I'm armed. Can she do it?"
He hesitated, and I got the feeling he didn't want to answer. But he finally said, "If the conversation continues long enough. It's going to take her half an hour at least to get back here."
"Let's try for it, Loiosh."
"Boss...."
"Do it.”
Rocza flew from my shoulder, heading back toward town.
I almost chewed my nails. I very much wanted Rocza to get there in time. I very much wanted to know what they were talking about. Marsi picked up my nervousness and got a bit skittish, so I patted her neck and tried to calm down.
"You sure there's no way you can hear what they're saying?"
"Sorry, Boss. There's just no place I can slide my snakey head without them seeing it."
I had a suggestion about where he could slide his snakey head, but I kept it to myself.
Just about the time I was arriving at the Count's estate, Loiosh said, "Rocza is here, Boss, and they're still talking about whatever they're talking about."
"Good," I said. "Stay with them.”
"Will do, Boss. Be careful.”
"I always am."
As I approached the entry area, the groom seemed to recognize me, or, at any rate, Marsi. He came forward with his hand out to assist me down. I gave him a cool nod. Once I was on the ground again, he took the reins and said, "You are expected, my lord."
I stood there, waiting until I felt like my legs would start working again, which took a couple of minutes. I spent it looking around the grounds as if I were just sort of vaguely curious.
When I could move without embarrassing myself, I climbed the low stairway up to the door. I pulled on the rope, the low gong sounded within, and presently the door swung open.
The same butler as before made the same bow as before. "Welcome, Lord Merss. His Lordship is expecting you."
We met in the same room, and I was offered the same chair. I took a different one, partly to be contrary, and partly because I was a little jumpy. The butler pretended not to notice. The Count gave me a sort of look, but let it pass.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me," he said. .
"On the contrary," I told him. "Thank you."
He smiled. "Brandy? Ale? Wine?"
"Wine," I said.
He nodded at the butler, who went off to fetch the necessities.
"So then," said the Count, sitting back a little and folding his hands over his belly. "We have something in common."
"An enemy, it would seem."
He nodded, and the butler gave me my wine, and gave the Count a glass of the same amber liquid he'd had before. He lifted his, I did the same, we sipped. It was slightly sweeter than the last one had been, and agreeably spicy.
"Okay, Boss. They've split up. I'm staying with him."
"All right.”
"What I propose," said the Count, "is simply this: that we share information. I suspect you know things that will help me track down who is behind the murders, and I am certain that I could give you information that would be of use to you."
I nodded. "That makes sense, and I'm inclined to agree."
"Inclined?"
"There some things I'd like to understand first, my lord, before I make any agreements."
"Such as?"
I had some more wine and tried to figure out how to approach it. This was the tricky part.
"Just what sort of information do you imagine I have, my lord?"
"Eh? Well, it's obvious you've been investigating on your own. Haven't you found out anything?"
"As to that," I said. "Maybe. But, you know, I have no special skills in that field; I've simply been asking questions as anyone might."
"Indeed?" he said. From the expression in his voice, I couldn't tell if he was just skeptical, or knew I was lying, and that is exactly what I needed to know.
"Yes," I said. "That's what puzzles me about this. To be blunt: What help could I possibly give you?"
"Well," he said, and had another sip. He licked his lips. "That is a difficult question to answer."
I nodded and gave him some time, sipping wine and putting on my innocent inquiring look.
"I guess," he said, "that will require some background explanation."
"All right," I said. "I'm listening."
"The mill was first founded by my grandfather, some eighty-three years ago." He went on from there, but I wasn't really paying attention.
"Boss?"
I wanted more wine because my mouth was dry, but the glass wasn't in my hand, which was odd.