“Good evening, Hogg, and a very good evening it has been,” he called.
Daniel’s feet got crossed on the threshold; the servant caught him with a skill born of practice. They’d had more to drink at her place. A great deal more to drink.
Hogg pulled one of Daniel’s arms over his own shoulders and walked him through the hallway to the courtyard. “I’ve already drawn a tub for you in the bathhouse, sir,” the servant said. “I’d as soon you not sing tonight. The landlord’s not best pleased about the broken railing.”
“Ho!” Daniel said. Now that he was safely home he felt like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He was running a tab at the supper club—God knew how he’d pay that—but he hadn’t had a florin in cash for a taxi when he slipped out before the lady’s servants stirred.
Hogg more carried than helped Daniel to the bathhouse. It was lighted by a dim electric bulb. The interior tiles formed a garden scene, attractive even beneath a mask of grime. The tub was of enameled metal with a wooden rim: long and deep, but disconcertingly narrow to Daniel. He was used to more space for his shoulders when he leaned back.
Daniel tried to help Hogg undress him, but as usual he found that his best choice was holding still except to raise a limb when requested. The oil-fired geyser in the corner was wreathed in steam; he amused himself by blowing patterns in the warm fog.
“I’ve been making some inquiries about Cinnabar citizens living here in Kostroma City, sir,” Hogg said as he hung Daniel’s trousers with the jacket, shirt, and boots in the alcove. Undergarments were piled in a corner.
“Ah?” said Daniel. Hogg would have been scouting for people who might want to smuggle high-value items back to Cinnabar. The Aglaia as a naval vessel wasn’t subject to search by the civil customs authorities. The RCN conducted its own checks, but naval personnel felt a kinship with their fellows on inbound vessels and could usually be squared by a modest bribe.
Daniel braced his hands on the rim of the tub and started to climb in.
“Sir!” Hogg said. He drew Daniel back, then inserted the hose of the geyser into the bathwater and opened the valve. Live steam bubbled into the water, heating the bath with a roar.
Steam pressure dropped to an asthmatic gurgle. “Now, sir,” Hogg said as he replaced the hose and shut off the burner.
His body slid under the surface. The water was blood temperature. It soothed Daniel and almost put him to sleep. Thought dissolved like sand castles in the tide.
“There’s a Cinnabar citizen on the Elector’s staff,” the servant continued as if absently. Hogg was rarely direct when he had anything serious to say. “The librarian, a woman just come here from Bryce. I wouldn’t mention it to you, but it seems she’s a Mundy of Chatsworth.”
Daniel’s faculties clanged back into full function despite the curtains of comfort and alcohol. Nothing that had happened during the past twelve hours affected him any longer.
“Just about the last of them, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hogg said. He offered a sponge that Daniel ignored. “She was off-planet when it happened or she’d have been stood against a post like most of her kin after your father broke the conspiracy.”
“Yes, that’s probably the case,” Daniel said. He took the sponge and began scrubbing himself with firm, powerful strokes.
“Now maybe this Mundy lady is the sort who forgives and forgets . . .” Hogg said.
“She’s not,” said Daniel. “I’ve met her.”
“Ah?” said Hogg in surprise. “Well, if she’s not, the going rate for an assassination here is two hundred florins. It might run a little more for a Cinnabar naval officer, but I wouldn’t bet on that. The gangs don’t take much notice of international relations.”
“Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention, Hogg,” Daniel said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“I have some friends who’d help if you wanted to, ah . . .” Hogg said diffidently. He was embarrassed to make the suggestion and very rightly concerned about how his master would react to it. “I’d talk to them myself, I mean. You wouldn’t have to—”