“That was before you passed out, of course,” Vlad added.
Marek murmured, “Of course.”
“He came home with us, worrying about you every inch of the way. Slept in the servants’ quarters last night.”
“Where’s he now?”
“Cook put him to work washing dishes.” Karl-Josef stood up. “He seems a likable little chap, very eager to please. Appears extremely grateful.”
“I think he’s taken with you, brother.” Vlad’s eyes danced.
“He’s probably going to take being your man quite seriously,” Andrei added.
“That’s enough,” Marek snapped.
He’d have to talk to the boy, decide what to do with him. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t send this Hans-Claud back to the Inferno, even if he had to accept him as a valet, a useless occupation as far as he was concerned.
“From now on, you’ll keep your remarks concerning this young man’s former occupation to yourselves. I—”
The door was thrown open so roughly it struck the wall and rebounded. Looking very pretty and quite angry, Ruxanda stamped in, clutching Feodor. With a quiver of guilt, Marek realized he hadn’t seen his little sister in three nights, hadn’t even asked about her.
“You’re finally awake.” Shifting the stuffed bear to the other arm, she lifted her skirts so they cleared her ankles and stalked to the bedroom.
“Xandi, this isn’t very convenient.” Marek pulled the covers higher. “I’m not dressed.”
“I think it’s most convenient, since you won’t dare get out of that bed and walk away while I’m talking. Oh, Marek, how could you?”
“How could I what?”
What have I done to make my little sister so angry with me? He wanted to get up and hug her but didn’t move for fear of disarranging the sheets and revealing his nakedness.
“As if you don’t know.”
He didn’t, so he decided to keep quiet and let her tell him.
She did. In detail.
“Staying out all night. Coming in as the sun rose. Don’t you know how dangerous that is? Dead drunk and singing those filthy songs at the top of your lungs. Don’t deny it,” she said as Marek started to do just that. “I heard you, and I understood every word, even if they were in German. I don’t know what some of them meant, but I’ve a pretty good idea.”
She paused to allow him to apologize, and when he simply set his jaw, her own lips straightened into a thin line.
“Everyone in the house knows, too. I was in the kitchen, and the servants…”
“Why were you in the kitchen?” Marek interrupted, struggling to turn the conversation.
“The cook likes me. She made me cookies. Don’t change the subject. They were saying how it was similar to when the Graf was younger, before he married the Gräfin, and soon you’ll be a fire-eater like he used to be.”
“Sister, what about us?” Vlad asked. “We were there, too.”
“At least you two didn’t have to be carried home. Anyway, you don’t matter.”
Andrei looked insulted. “I don’t appreciate that.”
“Shut up.” Xandi whirled to fix Karl-Josef with an angry stare. “I’m sorry, Uncle Karl, but I don’t want Marek to be a fire-eater. Or a rakehell.”
The Graf shook his head, making an indistinct tutting sound, but Xandi had already dismissed him, looking back at Marek.
“Brother, please promise me you won’t go to that place again.”
“You’ve no right to ask me that, Xandi.”
“I’ve every right,” she snapped. “You’re my brother.”
There was a long silence, a very long silence, as Marek struggled for something to say, couldn’t think of anything and was disgusted to hear himself mutter, “All right, I promise.”
“Thank you, Marek.” Her chin went up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve cookies to eat.”
Turning, she walked sedately from the room, not looking back. Marek stared at the door as she shut it, quietly.
Presently, the Graf asked, “Is that the first time you’ve ever lied to her?”
“Yes,” Marek sighed. “And now that I’ve begun, I’m certain it won’t be the last.”
* * *
Though he managed to get everyone out of the room, Marek continued to lie in bed thinking. He didn’t want to admit to Ruxanda or anyone else that he hadn’t enjoyed being at the Inferno all that much. He’d admit it was exciting and definitely intriguing, and he’d liked tossing Hilde and winning all that money. It was a nice bit of change for an empty pocket, but smoking tobacco and those other strange concoctions, and not remembering what happened afterward... If he hadn’t had such confidence he’d never do those things the twins spoke of, he might be mortally shamed by now. Nevertheless, if he were struck with another seige of dirijare, as was bound to happen eventually, he now knew where to sate it.
Marek also realized the Inferno offered an opportunity of a sort, a place to get information, as another idea came to him.
What better place for Ravagiu to hide than in a busy, cosmopolitan place? Also…if he were indeed in Vienna, he wouldn’t dare carry out his depredations as he had in Carpathius, but would be forced to seek a substitute as sensational and violent, though more acceptable…like a rakehell club.
He decided he needed to know more about all Vienna’s clubs.
To that end, at breakfast, he inquired of Karl-Josef, “How many gentlemen’s establishments are there in Vienna, uncle?”
“Want to try them all?” The Graf looked over his shoulder from where he stood at the sideboard filling his plate.
“I was thinking perhaps I should frequent some with a slightly different atmosphere.” Marek stabbed his fork into his kartoffelpuffer and bratwurst, and took a healthy mouthful.
“There are clubs to suit any taste.” Karl-Josef spooned jam onto his muffin and set it on his plate. “From the most respectable to the most depraved. Which would you like?”
“One bordering on respectable.” Marek set down his fork. “Where one might go to have intelligent conversation, play chess, speak with his peers. That sort of thing.”
The Graf thought a moment. While a servant took his plate to the table, he waited as another pulled out his chair and seated him in it.
“There are several of those. Don’t offer any physical entertainment, though. I know a couple of very high-class bordellos where one can have intelligent conversation and still come away carnally satisfied.” He bit into his muffin, and chewed. “We’ll take in a few of each and you can decide where you wished to be sponsored. Would you care to go tonight?”
“Perhaps a little later. I plan to speak to Hans-Claud after I finish breakfast.”
“I hope you didn’t make a mistake there.” Karl-Josef looked worried.
“Taking that child from such a place could never be a mistake, sir,” Marek said.
Karl-Josef continued nibbling on his muffin and didn’t comment.
Chapter 30
Hans-Claud wasn’t much taller than Ruxanda and appeared around the same age, with a slender frame and curly carroty hair struggling to escape the riband entrapping it. His face held the translucent complexion of a true redhead, with a smattering of freckles across a pug nose. It was a face still managing to look naïve in spite of the acts Marek was aware he’d performed at the Inferno. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit, an obvious hand-me-down, and mended stockings.
Marek decided the first thing the boy needed was a trip to see Johann Diedrich, and perhaps a few of the tailor’s compliments.
“I’m sorry I haven’t summoned you sooner,” he began. “I was a little under the weather earlier tonight.”
“That’s understandable, sir. Mixin’ ale and champagne ain’t always a good practice.”
Though his eyes were lively, the boy appeared nervous and fidgety.
Wondering if he made a mistake leaving his former place of employment, no doubt. Marek hoped his own nervousness didn’t show at this initial
foray into interviewing an employee.
“Now that you’ve accepted my offer of employment, Hans-Claud,” he began, looking away to avoid that direct gaze seeming to impale him like a pin driven into a moth. “I’m eager to review your talents.”
Attempting to affect a casual pose, he leaned against the mantel, one elbow resting on its cool, marble surface.
“Now, sir?” The bright look faded. “So soon?”
“Of course. Best get it over with, don’t you think?”
“I suppose, sir.” His reply came with such a lack of enthusiasm and a bit of a whine that Marek was startled. The boy’s fingers twisted around each other as he gave his new master a disappointed stare.
“Well?” Marek gestured vaguely. “Get on with it.”
“Yes, sir.” With a heavy sigh, the boy shuffled to the nearest chair. He gave Marek another look holding so much disenchantment it made him scowl.
Leaning over, Hans-Claud flipped up the voluminous tails of his coat and pushed his trousers just past the curve of his buttocks, revealing he wore no small clothes. The narrow curve of his bare hips under the edge of his shirt looked frighteningly vulnerable. He rested his hands on the arms of the chair.
“Hans-Claud.” Marek straightened, making his voice stern. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Showin’ you my talents, sir,” the boy replied. “Now that you’ve seen ’em, I’m ready whenever you are. I’m trustin’ you’ve got some lubricatin’ oil handy, sir?”
“You’ll pull up your trousers, and never display yourself to me in such a way again.” He didn’t shout but his words lashed at the boy, making him wince.
Hitching up his trousers, Hans-Claud settled his coat so quickly it seemed what happened had been imagined. He took a step backward, looking up at Marek, his expression confused.
“You didn’t bring me here to…” He thrust his forefinger inside the closed fist of his other hand and moved it in-and-out before dropping it to his side.
“I brought you here to be my valet, as I offered last night.” Marek felt a surge of pity overcoming his anger.
This child sells his body. Why shouldn’t he think I brought him here for exactly that?
“If you wish to be, that is,” he continued. “If not, you may return to the Inferno, and more customers like the one you had last night.”
“Oh, no, sir. Please.” The boy’s change in manner should’ve been comical. Instead it was pathetic. “You really want me just for a servant?”
“That’s what I said, Isn’t it?” Marek’s answer was sharp.
“Thank you, sir.” Hans-Claud caught his right hand, pressing a kiss against the knuckles. “I’ll learn fast, won’t give you no trouble. I’ll be the best damned valet ever. I promise.”
There was a brief silence following his outburst, while he and Marek stared at each other. Hans-Claud released his hand and stepped back, ducking his head in a little bow.
“Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I apologize for what I was thinkin’.”
Marek decided it best to ignore that. “I understand you’ve been helping out in the kitchen?”
“Yes, sir. The cook’s a nice lady. She gave me some of the cookies she made for that saucy little girl.” The boy grinned. “That one’s pretty but got a quicked tongue.”
“That’s my sister, Ruxanda.”
“Mistress Ruxanda, beg pardon, sir,” Hans-Claud amended, without so much as a hesitation. “She told me to start on the dishes from last night…the cook, I mean. I had most of ’em cleaned when they brought in tonight’s breakfast dishes.”
“What do you think of working in a household where the inhabitants stay up mostly at night?”
“Please, sir.” The boy looked serious. “I know what you and the Graf and those brothers of yours is. All of us at the Inferno do. We’ll never tell, o’ course, ’cause we knows what’s good for us, so I got no complaint in workin’ for you here, no more than I would there.”
“I assure you, Hans-Claud, your work here will be nothing like it was in the Inferno.”
“Hansel.”
“What?”
“Hansel…that’s what people call me. Hans-Claud’s my proper name, though I ain’t been too proper lately.” That was delivered with a quick grin dissolving into blankness as if it might’ve been a mistake.
“I'll call you that, if I may.” Marek gave an agreeinge nod. “How old are you, Hansel?”
“Seventeen, sir.”
Marek was surprised. He’d have said the boy was younger than Ruxanda. It was his small stature, he supposed. “You were at the Inferno for…?”
“Near seven years,” the boy supplied. “My Pa was a soldier, got killed in some battle. I never really knew which. I just remember my Ma cryin’ a lot. Then she died of consumption and I was sent to the Zustandwaisenhaus.”
Hans-Claud shivered slightly as if merely mentioning the state orphanage gave him chills.
“I was there a few months when a lady came sayin’ she needed a boy to work in her house, and she’d give him room and board and train him well. They let me go with her.” He shrugged and studied the floor. “She was the madam at the Inferno.”
“They didn’t investigate her character or anything? Just sent you away with a stranger?” Marek couldn’t believe it.
“The orphanage was overcrowded.” There was an even more eloquent shrug. “They were glad to have one less mouth to feed.”
“Still, to give away a child to be so abused...” Marek was outraged.
“Please, sir, don’t be discomfited.”
Marek was startled that Hans-Claud attempted to soothe away his concern.
“I was fairly well-treated...usually. Only got beat when I misbehaved. Even if I didn’t always enjoy my…uh…customers’ treatment, it weren’t too bad. Y’ see, I made up this fiction to keep me goin’. That one day, some gent’d come to the Inferno, like my looks, and take me away. When you pulverized that big bully and offered me a job, I thought my dream had come true.” He ducked his head and looked up at Marek, breaking into a sudden grin. “Guess it did, didn’t it, sir?”
Marek had to smile back. That grin was infectious.
“All right then, Hansel, get along to the kitchen and finish your chores there. I’ll ask the Graf’s valet if he’ll agree to instruct you, and work on your diction. We’ll also see about getting you some better clothes to wear. Can you read and write?”
“Yes, sir.” Again he gave that bobbing bow, followed by an adoring stare. “I know my letters.”
“Well, get along, then.” Marek made a dismissing gesture. The boy’s expression was becoming embarrassing.
Hans-Claud bobbed again and scampered for the door, his footsteps clattering as he ran down the hallway.
Now I have a valet. A former toss-boy. One who’s aware exactly what his new master is. Gods, I hope I didn’t make a mistake.
* * *
Hans-Claud proved quick in learning, and obedient in carrying out orders without questioning. Taken in hand by Karl-Josef’s manservant, the boy had the basics of his new position memorized within a week. By the second, he was able to tend Marek without supervision. Even his manner of speaking improved. Though Marek felt he could’ve gotten everything done much faster if left to his own devices, he suffered his valet’s ministrations in silence, determined Hans-Claud was not going back to the Inferno.
Returning to the Inferno, he made arrangements for the madam to be paid a sum for letting the boy go, making certain she had no hold over the child and he couldn’t be forced back into his former life. When Marek returned to Karl-Josef’s, it was with a feeling he’d actually done a good deed.
Chapter 31
True to his word, Karl-Josef introduced Marek into several clubs much less notorious and more prestigious than the Inferno, as well as a few even more infamous. In the former, Marek made the acquaintance of several likable men his own age, both aventurieri and deomi, and settled into the social life there. In the lat
ter he saw the opportunity to obtain needed information.
Once or twice, sânge dirijare’s now-awakened cycles forced him back to the Inferno, as well as the desire for Hilde’s overblown blondness and her opium-laced blood. Most times, however, he simply pursued his oath of vengeance.
Leaving his brothers and Dan to their own activities, Marek took Hans-Claud into his confidence, asking his opinion on which houses were the most disreputable, where the worst side of a man’s nature might be revealed. To his dismay, the boy viewed the whole thing as an adventure, offering to accompany his master as his ‘assistant’. He’d had to speak sternly, explaining what Ravagiu had done and emphasizing if they should discover him, the renegade wouldn’t hesitate to butcher anyone getting in his way. A graphic description of Ragaviu’s slaughter of his household shook Hans-Claud out of wanting any part in the adventure.
Marek visited those other places of sin, gambling dens, brothels and iniquitous settings where extreme and violent sexual acts were perpetrated and blood could be bought for the same price as pleasure. His stays were brief, and he always kept his collars turned up and his hat low, being careful he wasn’t recognized, but inevitably, it happened.
* * *
Marek was at Hofstedter’s, a genteel club located near the main thoroughfare. He was engaged in a game of chess with Rikhard Brandt, a deomi and son of a merchant wealthy enough for himself and his son to become members of the elite little club. They had been playing for some minutes, when Rikhard picked up one of the pawns, studying it intently. He hesitated for so long Marek looked up from his section of the board.
“Is something the matter, Rikhard?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” The young man coughed slightly. “Marek… I’ve always felt if one likes a person, that person should be accepted as he is, no matter what. I also believe he should be given the benefit of a doubt if some questionable matter arises.”
“Has some questionable matter arisen?” Marek frowned.
Rikhard didn’t answer.
“Is it about me?”
“Well…yes…” Rikhard spoke in a rush, as if wishing to rid himself of the words. “Heinrich Wagner and I were at Kleiner Maus the other night, and he mentioned in passing he’d seen you leaving the Cat o’ Nine Tails.”
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