Research notwithstanding, Bellomi just had to get out and see things with his own eyes to make real sense of it. With that in mind, he escaped the research room early that morning, getting Sarsen to connect the clock to the palace clock so that he could slip into Lockbright for the day and do a little investigation work. Sarsen, good-naturedly, did so but with the warning that Bellomi would be on his own for the whole day, as they couldn’t risk connecting the clocks again until late that night.
Not troubled by that, he’d shrugged, thanked the man, and stepped right on through.
This early in the morning, no one stirred in the palace, and he was able to escape outside of the main palace walls with no one the wiser. Especially after his and Axelrad’s semi-foiled reconnoitering mission here before, they now had a very accurate time schedule for the guard’s shift and he knew exactly which gate to use to let himself directly into the city marketplace.
Once there, he discovered he still had a good hour until the market properly opened. He spent the time walking around the city and getting an idea of the layout. He returned to the main street that led up to the palace just as businesses started opening, found a good spot that gave him an excellent vantage point, and waited.
Though they had been busy, the inconsistencies in Goethals and Clasessens’s vaults still weighed on Bellomi’s mind. There had been no outstanding evidence against them in the reports either, but Bellomi wanted to prove if his father’s trust was misplaced. The only thing he hadn’t tried yet was tailing them, so that’s what he would do today.
Morgan had taught him that people of the working class like to gossip and complain about their bosses, so that’s where he started. He knew, after all, how to pick up Goethals and Clasessens trail—they predictably went to the palace on a regular basis. But following both men’s staff around would undoubtedly prove to be enlightening.
He didn’t frankly care where he started, so he went with whoever came across his path first. In an effort to seem inconspicuous he bought an apple from a nearby fruit stand in the main market street, leaned against the building, and idly munched on it as he waited for any interesting prey to come along. It took a few minutes, and in the growing traffic of the early morning, he almost missed them, but eventually one of the men who worked for Goethals came along. The Goethals crest stood out predominantly on the man’s shoulder as he bobbed and weaved his way through the throng.
Chucking the apple aside, he stepped out into the street traffic, keeping the man within sights. With his bright blond hair, that didn’t prove to be too challenging. Walking through the busy street seemed far more hazardous. Bellomi couldn’t take more than a few steps before his shoulder would knock into someone, or something would come along that would almost trip him. If not for constant attention, he’d have been tripped five steps in.
He felt like swearing, but an angry man often lost his target. A good hunter stayed calm no matter what happened. Baby had taught him that. So he took in a breath, let it out, and kept following that head of thick blond hair.
They left the food stalls behind, heading more into the crafts section with its strong scent of metal and leather mixing in the air. Bellomi had always liked the smell of leather and he took in a deep lungful as he walked along. In fact, he managed three lungfuls before they switched streets again, this time for the more business-oriented section of the city. Only bankers, established merchant stores and elegant restaurants were along this road.
This street also had considerably less traffic than the market section. Bellomi dropped back a little more to avoid arousing suspicion, although he kept his pace at a good clip, giving the impression that he had his own business to attend to. But now that he had a clearer view of the man, he studied him from behind. He stood a bit taller than the average man, slender build, with an impeccably kept house uniform of grey and steel blue. A sharp, no-nonsense man in his early thirties from all appearances…who had just stepped into one of the more famous banks of the city. Hmmm.
Bellomi couldn’t well follow him inside of there, not without arousing a great deal of suspicion, so instead he walked right past it before taking a side alley between two tall brick buildings. There he stayed, peeking out just enough to keep an eye on the door of the bank.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes before the man came out again. It must be a regular transaction to be completed that quickly. Then Blondie kept going into the heart of the city at the same pace he’d used before. Bellomi waited a moment before stepping back out into the open street.
This had to be it, the regular payment Goethals made to Sunrise House. The timing of the payment was too perfect. Unless Goethals had some other secret vice that Bellomi hadn’t heard about yet.
They switched streets several times, going into the seedier part of the city. Not quite the worst section, but right there along the edge. A prime spot for a brothel indeed. Bellomi’s mouth flattened into a grim line but tried to not jump to any conclusions until he’d confirmed it with his own eyes.
Finally, the man stopped in front of a brick and wood building that had seen better days. Most of the buildings here stood two or three stories tall, but this one had only a single level which didn’t take up much space at all. Oddly enough, something of a line of people gathered around the front door, obstructing Bellomi’s view. The crowd had middle aged men and women, some children, and a great many elderly.
He studied them with growing confusion, then the plain exterior of the building. There is absolutely no way that’s a brothel.
Blondie disappeared into the crowd, again only for a moment, then came straight back out again. Several people stopped and thanked him as he passed, to which he gave them a smile and nod, but he didn’t dawdle. He left nearly as fast as he’d come, retreating back down the same street.
Bellomi continued walking forward and even gave the man a nod of greeting as they passed each other. Blondie returned the silent acknowledgement without missing a step and continued on.
This whole thing didn’t make an ounce of sense and since Bellomi could hardly ask Goethals’ man to explain, he went to the crowd of people instead. Putting on a smile, he picked an elderly woman and went directly to her. “Hello,” he greeted with a slight smile.
She had to crane her neck upwards a little to see him, as she stooped with age, but she smiled readily back at him. “Hello, dear. Are you here for a bit of food as well? You’re quite young to need the help, but I suppose these days, there’s no help to be had for it.”
A bit of food? He played along. “Times are very tough, aren’t they?”
“Oh, they are, they are,” she agreed with a long sigh before turning to an equally elderly man standing near her and seeking confirmation. “Isn’t that right?”
“’Tis,” the man grunted sourly. “A man works a lifetime, only to what? Scraping by with nothing to show.”
“If not for Lord Goethals’ help with this kitchen,” she gestured to the building in front of her, “I don’t know what we’d do some days.”
Kitchen. Kitchen? Bellomi turned and regarded it with new eyes. Sunshine House was not a brothel, but a kitchen for the poor? “How long has it been here?”
“Oh my,” the woman paused and thought about it for a moment. “Years, at least. We’ve been coming here regularly for the past three years.”
“It was going on before that,” the man added in a grunt. “Goethals started it two years or so after the prince was cursed.”
That long?! Bellomi blinked, feeling a little bewildered.
“It’s not the only one, or so I hear,” the woman added thoughtfully. “Why Jamison’s son said just the other day he saw one near the north edge of the city.”
This simply could not be a ploy for the sake of Goethals’ reputation. Some of the other Councilmen had charities they ran, but they did so with much fanfare and boasting, making sure that everyone knew of it. Goethals clearly didn’t have that motive here. For mercy’s sake, most people thought this was a b
rothel!
The woman caught his wrist and lightly tugged him in front of her. “Come here, dear, stand in line. A growing boy like you needs a lot of food. I should know, having raised three of them.”
He didn’t fight her, but moved where she directed. “My thanks, madam. Is the food good here? I’ve never been here before you see.”
“Oh my, yes.” She started expanding on the subject, giving praises to the cooks, not that she couldn’t have done better in her prime, you know.
Bellomi listened attentively, asked questions, and kept his eyes open.
Things were definitely not as they appeared.
~ ~ ~
After a very interesting lunch, Bellomi went back to the palace and his little corner of the market square. He’d developed a certain fondness for that spot—it gave him such an excellent view of the main road into the city after all. He bought a flask of cider this time (he’d worked up a thirst after that long walk into the city and back) and took healthy swallows from it as he waited for someone else interesting to come out of the palace. The cool tartness of the cider filled his mouth and he smiled at the taste. The day had warmed up to a pleasant degree but hadn’t become stifling hot. Really, he couldn’t have asked for a better setting to stalk people in.
He downed two flasks of cider and a pear before the next interesting person came along. This time, instead of a staff member, Clasessens himself showed up, or at least his carriage did. Bellomi stayed still long enough to get a peek in the window as the black lacquered carriage passed. Yes, the stodgy old man inside certainly looked like Clasessens. Now where was the man going in the middle of the afternoon, with only two hours or so before a regular council meeting?
Curious, he tossed what remained of the pear into a nearby rubbish bin and hoisted himself up the side of the stone building. His hands slipped a bit on the smooth stone and he had a hard time at moments finding good enough purchase, but he eventually made it to the roof. Once there, he didn’t pause to see if anyone had noticed him (with market in full-swing, no one would take notice of a single man in an alleyway) and instead moved around to the back of the roofline. Baby had taught him to never walk within sight of prey, but on the opposite side, and move so that your shadow never touched the ground. With these steep roofs, that proved to be challenging, but he adapted the techniques as best he could.
The carriage, drawn by a matching pair of four bays, moved at nothing more than a walk. Then again, in that busy street, anything faster would cause fatalities. Bellomi, with his clear highway in the sky, could match this pace easily. At least, for now he could. He hadn’t the foggiest idea of what he’d do once he reached the end of this street, though. Or (heaven forbid) if the councilman turned off and took another road altogether.
His great-many-greats grandfather had chosen this spot of land to build the palace on hundreds of years ago because of a predominant hill, thereby offering a good vantage point to build a palace on. But nothing about this area could be described as flat. The land pitched and rolled, varying in levels every hundred feet or so. The city, perforce, also had a variety of levels to it. Different streets stood higher or lower than the rest. Right now, Bellomi had a lofty perch to travel along, but if the councilman went left, then he would abruptly come more eyelevel with the carriage. If he went right, he’d have to switch to a different side of the street altogether to follow him, and the street there sloped dramatically before rising again just as sharply, putting him again at risk of being easily spotted.
Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this in broad daylight….
The councilman took a left at the next street. Bellomi instantly went flat, putting himself as level with the roof as he could, waiting for the carriage to rumble past before daring to raise his head again. The tiles under his skin felt rough and hot, and they scraped at his bare hands as he shifted. He took a step forward, intending to follow the carriage up the road (although much more cautiously), when it abruptly stopped at a side street so narrow that he almost didn’t spot it. Now, what and why…?
Before he could properly think about it, the bodyguard that had been lounging on the back of the carriage abruptly stood up and took a half-leap for the nearest building. With the nimbleness of a cat, he climbed up on top of the roof, crouching on the edge of it and looking around in all directs at the street below.
Bellomi swore to himself under his breath. Being up on the rooftops had absolutely no advantage if someone else was also up here with him! Before he could get spotted, he swung over the top of the roof and onto the other side, thereby out of sight of the bodyguard. Before anyone on this side of the street caught him, he swung down and off, putting his feet back onto cobblestone.
Alright, what to do? He could hardly casually stroll by that carriage and try to catch what the councilman was saying to whoever he met in that side alley. The bodyguard would riddle him with holes if he tried. Walking along at a shambling pace, he looked around carefully at the terrain. The next street past this one seemed to slope a great deal…in fact…did he spy a viaduct ahead? Indeed there was, with a canal underneath it. Now that looked promising. He quickened his pace to a brisk walk, taking a better look as he got closer. Yes indeed, very promising. The canal went deep, taller than any man could stand, although why it had been built that way puzzled him as only a trickle of water flowed through the bottom of it. Perhaps this area experienced high floods during certain seasons?
Regardless, it stood empty now, and it directly connected with that alleyway. Better, it would obstruct the view of the bodyguard if he stayed close enough to the wall.
Bellomi headed straight for it, bypassing the bridge entirely and lightly leaping into the canal. He landed with a slight crunch of gravel, bending both knees to absorb the impact. As quietly as he could, he moved forward, hand along the wall and listened intently. Alleys, especially ones as narrow as those, tended to have a slight echoing effect. Faint, but if one listened hard enough….
“—another happening—” a man’s deep voice said intently. A slight wind carried away the next few words. “—cannot afford for this to go on.”
“Of course, my lord, but—”
“I will not hear excuses. Do whatever needs to be done. Tell them that if they’re caught, I’ll take care of it.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but that didn’t work very well last time.”
“Last time, the buffoon you sent did actual property damage. I can’t very well get him out of something if he’s openly breaking the law.”
“Yes sir,” the man sighed in resignation. “I’ll see to it personally.”
“Excellent. I must get back, but I trust you to see to it.” The sound of footsteps, then a door being shut before carriage wheels rattled off along the cobblestone.
Clasessens had left that quickly? But the man he’d been speaking with probably hadn’t. Bellomi bent and leaped, catching the edge of the canal with his fingertips and hoisting himself upwards with sheer brute strength. Upon gaining the top, he dared to poke his head up over the edge of the street level, looking into the alleyway. The man Clasessens had been meeting turned the corner as he watched, giving Bellomi nothing more than a glimpse of his face. But he’d worn a jacket of dusky red and a black hat, so he should be fairly easy to spot in the crowd. If Bellomi scrambled enough to catch up with him.
He ducked through the same alley the man had just vacated, moving at an almost dead sprint until he reached the other end, and then with a more casual saunter he stepped out into the street and started walking. Most of the people along this street moved along toward the market, heading south. He fought the tide to go up the street instead, as did the man with the black hat and red coat, so it didn’t take him much effort to find him.
The other man didn’t go far, just a few doors down before ducking into an open tavern. Bellomi, seeing that the place already had a good sized crowd to it, felt it safe enough to follow him in.
Like every other tavern in existence, the interior was d
im from a lack of lighting and the musty smell of sawdust and beer. He had to pause in the doorway a split second so his eyes could adjust after leaving the brightness of the outdoors. When he could properly see again, he panned the room. Mostly day laborers here, men of all ages, sitting around tables and calling for either food or drink. One long bar along the back wall, where his prey had decided to go. Bellomi went straight back to the bar, weaving his way in and around tables, and fetched up against the aged wood so that both of his arms casually crossed on top of the pitted surface. He had a good arm’s length of distance between him and Mr. Red Coat, which should be enough to avoid tripping any of the man’s alarms, but close enough that Bellomi could still overhear despite the noisy conversations going on around him.
The bartender came along to get Red Coat’s order, then he looked at Bellomi…and looked again, a little taken aback.
Bellomi gave him a crooked smile for the reaction. He didn’t look old enough to be in here or order anything strong. But fortunately, Morgan had taught him how to deal with situations like this. “Just waiting on someone. Can I get a mulled cider?”
The bartender, clearly relieved at not having to debate on the matter of giving a minor alcohol, gave him a nod and plunked a mug of chilled cider in front of him before moving on.
Red Coat nursed his drink for several moments alone before someone else, looking rough and weather beaten, joined him. “Whazzit this time?” the man greeted, looking put out.
“South quarter,” Red Coat answered, also seeming tired. “Packet of taxes, he said.”
“Not again.”
“Aye, well…” Red Coat trailed off with a shrug. “Better us that makes sure it’s delivered than in their hands, what?”
“Can’t we just tell the city guard…” the newcomer made a face and grumbled, “No, like as not they’re in on it.”
Red Coat didn’t disagree, just shook his head in resignation. “It’s a sad state of things, my man, when it’s thief-takers that do the guard’s business for them. Aye, a sad state. But come. We’ve got hours yet until we need to go. Have a pint.”
The Child Prince (The Artifactor) Page 39