Point of Hopes (33 page)

“
That was Ranazy,” Rathe said, and
didn’t add, and you know it. “He’s a bully and not a cheap one. And
he makes us all look bad. You know how Devynck feels about
Monteia—for that matter, you know how Devynck feels about me. So
you can tar us all with the same brush, fine, everyone else does,
or you can see that it’s the truth. We’re all blamed for the
actions of a few. Sound familiar?”

Eslingen stared at the pointsman for a long minute,
the anger fading as he recognized the justice of what Rathe had
said, and done. “It sounds familiar,” he said. “Can I sit?” He
nodded to the chair along the wall.

Rathe rubbed his eyes. “Of course. Sorry. Not a good
morning for you, and the night won’t have been much better, for all
they’re a decent lot at Sighs.” He sat back down behind his table,
leaning his elbows on its well-worn surface. “What can I do?”

Confronted by it, Eslingen found himself at a loss.
He had been bolstering himself with his anger, thoughts of the
demands he would make on the pointsman, but now he could only shake
his head. “Gods know, Rathe. I need a place to live, I need a job.”
He grinned suddenly. “But don’t think I’m applying for a job with
the points. I don’t think we’d suit, do you?”

“
I’ve seen odder,” Rathe answered,
but tipped his chair back to stare thoughtfully at the ceiling.
“There ought to be plenty of work available just now—” He heard
Eslingen draw breath to protest, and hurried on. “—but I can
understand a lot of it’s not really what you’re looking for.” He
tipped his head in a shrug. “It’s never easy for gentlemen to find
appropriate work, and that’s what your commission would make you,
isn’t it? So hiring on as a fairground knife would be right
out.”

“
Putting that aside, since I will
get hungry eventually, would anyone hire a Leaguer right now?”
Eslingen asked.

“
Some would,” Rathe answered,
absently, but then the thought struck him. There was one job that
he knew of, was almost sure the place hadn’t been filled, and it
would get him personally out of a good deal of trouble…. “Some
might.” Oh, gods, he added silently, am I really going to do this?
He leaned forward, intent now. “Look, Eslingen, you’ve got every
right to be angry—my having no choice doesn’t help you losing your
place—but maybe, just maybe, I can make it up to you. That was what
you came here for, wasn’t it?”

Eslingen nodded, the faintest of smiles on his
handsome face. “That, and the thought of wringing your neck.”

“
Which would have put you back in
cells,” Rathe pointed out, “and here rather than Sighs.”

“
I’ve slept in stables before.” The
smile might have widened a fraction, but Rathe couldn’t be
sure.

“
All right then. But I want to be
plain with you about this. I think the job would suit you. The man
I’m thinking of lives like a gentleman, and is highly respected
throughout Astreiant.”

“
I’m sensing a
‘but,’
 
” Eslingen
said.

“
A couple of them, actually. His
name’s Hanselin Caiazzo, and if you were still working at
Devynck’s, I’d tell you to ask her about him, you’d get an honest
answer. He’s a long-distance trader—merchant-venturer,” he added,
and Eslingen nodded again. “A large part of his business is
perfectly legal and above board, but there’s a sizeable percentage
of it that isn’t.” Rathe cocked his head at the other man. “I don’t
know how much time you’ve spent in Astreiant, all in, or what you
know about a place called the Court of the Thirty-two
Knives.”

Eslingen sat back in his chair, one dark eyebrow
winging upwards. “I’ve heard of it,” he said. “Devynck told all her
soldier friends to stay away from it. That was enough for me.”

Rathe nodded. “Good. There’s nothing they like
better in the Court for a bunch of roistering, on-leave soldiers to
come in thinking they’re tough enough to handle it, because they’re
not. But Caiazzo has contacts and businesses within the Court He
can walk in and out, pretty much at will—but then, he is southriver
born.”

“
And you?” Eslingen asked, when it
seemed clear that Rathe had finished. The pointsman looked
startled.

“
Me? Yeah, I’m southriver born,
too.”

“
Can you walk in and out of this
Court with impunity?”

“
I’ve done it.”

“
But not like Caiazzo does it,”
Eslingen finished, and Rathe grinned. There’s a lot you’re not
telling me, Adjunct Point, Eslingen thought, and decided not to
pursue the matter. Rathe had said enough to get his message across.
“So what’s so special about this Caiazzo, then? I assume there are
reasons none of your lot have scored a point on him
yet.”

“
Oh, there are, chief among them
being he’s good at covering his tracks, most of his success comes
from his legal businesses, and people are loyal to him. And he has
canny associates, as well as a deft hand with a fee.” Rathe paused.
“But the thing is, he had this bodyguard—”

“
Oh, no, I’m sorry, I don’t step
into a dead man’s shoes. Not like this. Thank you kindly, Rathe,
but—”

“
Will you shut up for a moment?”
Rathe said, equably. “His last bravo’s alive and well and sitting
in a Customs Point cell.” Eslingen looked at him, and Rathe met the
stare with a bland smile. “Duelling.”

“
So who are you doing the favor?”
Eslingen demanded. “This Caiazzo or me? For that matter, it seems
extraordinary that you have to make amends to two different people
for matters of point scoring. I’m beginning to be just the
slightest bit afraid of you, pointsman. You’re not
safe.”

“
It’s not as elaborate as all that.
Caiazzo’s tough deserved what he got, and better for him this way.”
Rathe shook his head. “Look, he called himself a duellist, but he
didn’t call his duels formally. He just sort of took it upon
himself to, well, execute them. Caiazzo was having fits trying to
figure out how to be rid of him anyway. Not that I did it to oblige
him, but when I was able to make the point, fair and square, on a
charge of murder, I did it and Caiazzo didn’t make more than a
token complaint. And if he’d—Douvregn, I mean—if he’d gone on like
that much longer, he’d’ve gone mad. Duellists can, you know,
especially if they don’t cry fair and public.”

“
You know a lot about duelling. I
presume that’s just in pursuit of the law,” Eslingen said, eyeing
the blade that lay along Rathe’s leg.

“
Not really,” Rathe answered, and
Eslingen looked dubious.

“
Oh?”

Rathe shrugged. “A friend of mine’s a duellist.
’Course, he’s also a necromancer, so he has an outlet. Of
sorts.”

Both Eslingen’s eyebrows rose. “What an interesting
life you lead, pointsman.” He took a breath. “I want to know about
Caiazzo. You said there were a couple of ‘buts’ involved.”

“
It’s about these children.” Rathe
looked unhappy. “The surintendant—the surintendant of points, my
ultimate boss—thinks Caiazzo might be involved. I don’t. I’ve been
after Caiazzo for almost five years now, I know the kind of mud
puddles he likes to play in, and children aren’t it. I’m certain in
my heart he’s not involved, but the sur wants me to keep an eye on
him. Took me aside this morning to tell me that, though how I’m
supposed to do that when I have all these disappearances in my
book, and have to check up on illegal printers….” He paused and
took a breath, darting a rueful glance at Eslingen. “Sorry. But if
the sur wants Caiazzo watched, then I have to take care of it.
Hanse—Caiazzo needs a new bravo. You need a job and a place to
live, and I can promise you, his house is a lot grander than the
Brown Dog.”

“
It would have to be,” Eslingen
murmured, but there was no denying the sudden surge within him. He
had to husband his coin if it was to last to the next campaign
season, and if he could live in a gentleman’s comfort till then,
all the better. “How’s he treat the hired help, then?”

“
Better than they deserve, I
imagine,” Rathe said. “Douvregn was always very well turned
out.”

“
Not livery?”

“
I told you, he’s not a gentleman,
Eslingen, he’s a merchant, a southriver merchant, and proud of it.
He’s not the sort to ape the nobility, so set your heart at rest.
You’ll be able to afford to dress as well as ever, without the
spectre of livery.”

“
But with the very real spectre, I
imagine, of finding myself dead in the Sier if he should find out
I’m spying on him,” Eslingen said.

Rathe shook his head. “Caiazzo’s not like that—not
quite like that. He’s no idiot. I’m trusting you to find out that
he’s not involved in these disappearances. I expect you to find out
he’s not involved.”

“
And if I find out he
is?”

Rathe grimaced. “Then get out, fast, and let me
know.”

“
Why am I even considering this?”
Eslingen demanded.

“
Because it’s a long summer until
anyone good is hiring again, you told me so yourself, especially
soldiers of your rank. Because you saw what happened at the Old
Brown Dog. Leaguers aren’t well loved at the best of times, and
right now—”

“
Right now, we’re right up there
with pointsmen in popularity, aren’t we?” Eslingen said, with a
return of his earlier anger. Rathe ignored it.

“
Because these are children who are
disappearing. Southriver, northriver, from all over the city. Gone
without a trace, and I tell you, Eslingen, usually only a runaway
can manage that.” He frowned into the distance, eyes fixed on
something only he could see. “I’ve seen that happen enough times.
The serious runaways, the ones with real, hard reasons to run.
They’ll do it, and we can turn over every stone, and not find them.
Because they know when and how fast to run. But this number of
kids, from so wide a range of backgrounds…they’re not running,
Eslingen. Someone’s taking them. And I don’t think it’s Caiazzo,
but I can’t make that decision, I can’t take that risk. You need a
job, a place to live. I need to be able to keep an eye on Caiazzo
without having to give up the other jobs at hand, which I refuse to
do.” He broke off, glaring at Eslingen, but the look wasn’t really
directed at him, the Leaguer realized. He was angry with whoever
had suggested he write off the children already gone. And Rathe
never would.

“
I was a runaway,” he said quietly.
“And you’re right. I knew when and how far and fast to run. But I
was reasonably lucky. It might not have ended up this well. All
right. I may be out of my mind, Rathe, but if this Caiazzo will
have me, I’ll keep an eye on things for you.”

Rathe smiled, and the easing of lines from his face
made Eslingen wonder just how many hours a day the adjunct point
was working on this business. “You want to meet him now?”

“
Are you off duty
already?”

Rathe made a face. “Oh, calling on Caiazzo is part
of being on duty, it seems.” He stood, stretched, and came around
the desk. “So, if you’re interested…”

“
Oh, I am,” Eslingen assured him,
and immediately wondered if he was doing the right thing. The
astrologer had said his status could change at the new moon, but he
couldn’t think this was quite what he had had in mind. Before he
could say anything more, however, the door opened, and Monteia
appeared.

“
Good, Rathe, you’re back. Oh.
Lieutenant Eslingen.” Monteia shut the door behind her. “How are
you?”

“
Well, thank you, Chief
Point.”

Rathe gave him a wary glance, not quite trusting the
demure tone, but the Leaguer didn’t meet his eyes.

“
Good,” Monteia went on. “It
shouldn’t have happened, none of it, but once it did we had no
choice but to bring you in. I want to thank you for your
understanding.”

“
Not at all, Chief Point.” This
time, it was Eslingen who looked at Rathe, and the adjunct point
who wouldn’t meet his eyes. Apparently, Eslingen thought, he wasn’t
intending to inform the chief point of the plan to use a deputy to
spy on Caiazzo. Probably as well.

“
What did the sur want, Nico?”
Monteia asked.

“
Mostly to ask me if I’d found
anything against Caiazzo, anything that would show he was
involved.” Rathe grinned. “And to complain about the grande
bourgeoise.”

“
He won’t get any argument from me
on that, but this business with Caiazzo…” Monteia shook her head.
“It’s beginning to sound unhealthily like an obsession.”

Rathe sighed, almost inaudibly. It seemed, Eslingen
thought, to be a standing problem between them. “I don’t think so,
Chief, with respect. I think the sur is getting some information
we’re not privy to, maybe from court, maybe from gods know where,
but political. Because that’s the connection he keeps pushing—the
succession.”

Monteia looked askance. “Not very likely, is it,
Nico?”

Rathe sighed again, louder this time. “No, it’s not,
but what am I supposed to do, tell the surintendant of points, no,
sir, you’re wrong, and I won’t do it? I’ve tried to tell him, gods
know. But he won’t let me off.”

“
It’s a waste of time,” Monteia
said. “Aside from anything else, the last thing we need is for the
families to think we’ve forgotten about them. So if you can do what
the sur wants without its cutting into your real work, Nico, that
would be lovely.”

“
Yes, Chief,” Rathe said. He
glanced involuntarily at Eslingen, wondering if he should mention
his plan to Monteia, but decided against it. It wasn’t as though he
was authorizing any fees for Eslingen against the station’s
expenses—that would be Caiazzo’s responsibility. Not that Monteia
wouldn’t appreciate the irony, but the fewer people who knew, the
better for Eslingen.