Sustenance (8 page)

There was a knock at the door. “Grof? May I come in?” Rogers asked.

Szent-Germain moved to the middle of the room. “Of course, old friend,” he said, setting the letter aside.

Rogers entered the room, a leather-covered notebook in his hand. He was dressed for traveling, in a gray, three-piece suit of Scottish wool and English tailoring. “I believe I have a workable schedule for my tour,” he said in eighth-century Polish.

“That’s excellent. You’re going to travel by rail?” Szent-Germain indicated a chair as he sat down on the small couch set at right angles to it.

“Most of the way. I may have to hire a car in a few places, not all railways are fully rebuilt,” Rogers replied, and changed to modern Turkish. “I need a broader vocabulary. Combining a
rail
with
road/path
is clumsy.”

“True enough,” said Szent-Germain in the same tongue. “This way we don’t have to invent words in an old language that had no use for present ideas. But it is good to keep in practice.”

Rogers nodded. “And my Wendish is rusty.” He neither smiled nor laughed, but there was a glint in his faded-blue eyes that indicated amusement.

“A problem for the long-lived—languages come and go,” Szent-Germain agreed; he once again looked out the window. “I know I’ve been a bit … distracted lately.”

“You’ve been withdrawn,” Rogers concurred.

Szent-Germain shrugged. “There are so many things needing my attention.”

Fifteen hundred years ago, Rogers might have spoken more bluntly; as it was, he bit back the retort that rose to his lips. “I know you have not found a willing partner in four years, and being a pleasant dream is not as sustaining for you as acknowledged contact with someone who comprehends what takes place between you.”

“True enough,” Szent-Germain said, all emotion carefully banked. “And since that cannot be changed at present, we had better discuss your travels. How have you set up your journey?”

“With as little back-tracking as possible,” Rogers said with his usual quiet calm, accepting Szent-Germain’s reticence for the time being. “Since you will be in Paris and Genova, I have not included those places in my itinerary,” he went on, opening his notebook and the closely written pages. “Tonight I will board a train to Bremen—I am assured that the way is clear and delays are unlikely. From there, I take a ship bound for Norway. I will begin my inspections in Oslo, starting with Eclipse Trading offices and going then to your warehouses—you have been in Copenhagen recently and there is no reason I should return there—then go on to Scotland and England. I’ve already written to Sunbury Draughton Hollis Carnford and Bingley, telling them when I will arrive there, and what portion of your business they may continue to handle, which will disappoint them. They’re expecting me.”

“I fear we may want to engage new attorneys in London to handle a good portion of my international dealings, and who will stay abreast of changes in international law; I’ve had too much of my representation in Sunburys’ hands, fathers and sons, for far too long. I know young Alfred has been curious about me and, now that Miles has retired, is examining the various matters they have handled for me in the past, not in the way that reassures me as to his fiduciary responsibilities or his probity. His recent letter to me hinted at changes to come.”

“Blackmail?” Rogers inquired.

“Or something very like it, so it would be prudent to find barristers and solicitors with an emphasis on international legal expertise, with offices in more countries than England. That should be an acceptable reason for the change. I would not want to give them any sense that I’ve uncovered Alfred’s game.” Szent-Germain made a gesture of resignation.

“Will Sunbury protest this, do you think?” Rogers showed no sign of distress, though he was upset by this development.

“On what grounds?” Szent-Germain countered. “He can’t appeal to the courts to be allowed to fleece me, unless he’s willing to confess his wrong-doings. No; I’ll send out a notification to them before I leave for Paris; perhaps you can make some preliminary inquiries while you’re in London. A new firm with international offices; see what you can find out about three or four of them. I’ll keep some of my British business with Sunbury, but nothing beyond the island.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I carry your letter and deliver it for you?” Rogers asked, surprised that Szent-Germain had come to this decision so quickly.

“No; that could be awkward for you. A special delivery letter should be sufficient, as I would send under ordinary circumstances. I think it best that you and I not visit their chambers, for the same reason. For the time being, everything between Sunbury and Eclipse has to be on paper, more’s the pity.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand. “I’ll let you know how Alfred Sunbury responds.”

“I would appreciate that. Is there anything you want me to arrange about your new representation?”

“Not until I have settled on a firm,” said Szent-Germain.

Rogers waited for half a minute, then said, “I’ll send you reports from each Eclipse Trading office I visit. Do you want the reports in code?”

“No; it would only raise suspicions if the reports are intercepted, which may indeed happen. How tedious it is, to have to anticipate deception at every turn. It’s as bad as Byzantium.” He shook his head, his dark eyes remote. “Write your reports in French or Romanian—both are easily explained.” He paused again. “By all the forgotten gods, trying to extricate Eclipse from skullduggery, we’re becoming more enmeshed in it.”

“Do I provide curious officials with your address here or one of your other addresses?” The question was without any unease, as if he had never encountered such problems on similar missions in the past, and was not appetent to have the problem behind them.

“It would be wise, I think,” said Szent-Germain.

“You’re probably right,” Rogers agreed.

“You will have to excuse my reticence: Constantinople—and Lima, and Lo-Yang, and Damascus, for that matter—have made me cautious.”

“With good reason,” said Rogers, who had memories of his own.

Szent-Germain gave a short sigh. “Hardly surprising,” he said, and patted the top of his desk lightly, signaling a change in subject. “So: Norway to Britain—then where?”

“Rotterdam, Calais, and Le Havre. South to Bordeaux and Bilbao, west to Oporto and south to Lisboa, inland to Madrid and Sevilla. Cadiz, Valencia—”

“Be careful in Spain; it’s not so long since we lived there, and we did not leave in the best of circumstances.”

Rogers chuckled briefly. “With the Generals nipping at our heels.”

Szent-Germain’s smile lacked humor. “That was a near thing; I wouldn’t like to see another departure like that one.”

“Nor I,” Rogers admitted. “Perhaps I’ll skip Valencia and make my time at Barcelona brief.”

“Keep your schedule flexible and send me information daily. If you think it urgent, telephone me.” Szent-Germain’s expression was carefully unrevealing. “Be discerning when you book your trains—check the stops and the connection times, reserve first-class accommodations all the way, or hire a car and a driver. I’ll supply you with a letter of credit for three or four different currencies, in case you should need more money than you’re taking with you: you won’t have to wait for confirmation on travelers’ cheques, as well as such authorizations as you may need for taking any necessary legal actions.”

“Thank you, master.” He studied the page open before him. “Marseilles, perhaps Nice, inland to Milano, down to Pisa, then Roma, Napoli, Brindisi, unless it looks as if it would be prudent to visit Massina before going on to Brindisi. I will arrive in Venezia the third week in February, if all goes well.”

“Keep me apprised of any changes, especially if you go to Sicilia.”

“Certainly.” Rogers handed over a typed itinerary that covered three pages. “This is what I am planning to do. I have most of the reservations I need for the first half of my tour. I’ll purchase the rest as I go along, depending on circumstances and the weather, and will wire you in Paris about any changes I may need to make.” He closed his notebook and stood up.

“Do you ever wonder,” Szent-Germain asked, a touch of surprise in his voice, “why we make such a ritual of travel review?”

“We’ve done it for centuries,” said Rogers as if this were explanation enough. Then he stood very still, saying, “Perhaps because those times when we didn’t, things didn’t go so well. Think of Tunis, or Leosan Fortress.”

“No doubt you’re right. Very good; I believe you may have hit upon it,” said Szent-Germain, and got to his feet. “So to continue our ritual: I’ll plan to be in Venezia the second week in February. Eclipse Press should be ready to get back to business by then. I’ll know where we stand with the press, and you should know whether or not Eclipse Trading is doing well.”

Rogers cleared his throat. “I’ve gone over the household particulars with Willemyn; she has written instructions describing her duties. I’ll see if she has anything she wants to know more about. I’m planning to do that as soon as I may.”

“Considering you are leaving shortly, I should think so,” said Szent-Germain wryly, then added more seriously, “I thank you for undertaking this tour. We need our work coordinated; though I realize that winter is not the best time for such a journey, it provides you the element of surprise which you might not have in spring. Also, more Eclipse Trading ships should be at winter anchorage and you will have the opportunity to inspect them. There is much to prepare for.”

“You still believe there has been smuggling and other unfortunate acts continuing since the war,” said Rogers.

“Well, it has happened before. Think of Alexandria. It is an easy life to fall into: you don’t mean to continue to smuggle or steal or carry unpapered passengers now that the war’s over, but somehow, you have grown used to doing it. You can always use the money it brings, and it is useful for maintaining contacts with criminals who will not make you a target of their crimes if you are willing to be useful to them.” Szent-Germain shook his head. “I’d rather I find out about such shenanigans and correct the problems with as little fuss as possible than have the local authorities arrest my employees as malefactors in the full glare of the press and the law.” He held out his hand to Rogers. “There are ways to handle refugees and displaced persons that put neither they nor you and I outside the law, but it takes careful arrangements. You know how best to handle any miscreants you find: you’ve done so before.”

Rogers shook Szent-Germain’s hand. “I’ll do my best to resolve any problems privately. I’ll inform you if I can’t.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I talked to Jourdain earlier today; he knows what he is to do while I’m away. He’s a good steward. You may rely on him to look afer your Paris properties.” He opened the door. “Do you remember the time we returned to Danzig and found the staff gone, and all the furniture—every stick of it—and all the supplies stolen or sold?” He shook his head. “The officials all claimed to know nothing, and the only servant we could ever find was the laundress, and she was adamant that she hadn’t been part of it.”

“It could happen again; we lost everything when Timur-i came to Delhi.”

“That was war,” Rogers pointed out.

“Danzig was greed,” Szent-Germain said quietly. “You’re right; there is a difference. And on this trip, you will have to deal with them both.”

Rogers suddenly said, “Do you miss America, the United States? No detritus of war to deal with, no ruined cities.”

For the greater part of a minute, Szent-Germain contemplated something in the distance, then mused aloud, “Not as such, no. Certainly not as it is now, filled with suspicions and dread under a veneer of progress.” He pressed his lips together, then added, “There’s too much of it to contain it all in a word like
miss.
There are people and places I would like to see again, but for all its spectacular variations, it is not my native earth. No doubt we’ll travel there again, North and South. Why do you want to know?”

“Europe is marked with the scars of battle; I thought, perhaps, you’d prefer a place with fewer reminders of what has happened.” Rogers saw Szent-Germain’s blue-black eyes become veiled.

“For now, my responsibilities are here,” the Grof said remotely. “But I thank you for your concern.”

Rogers studied Szent-Germain’s unrevealing countenance, aware that he would get no further information from the Grof for now. “I’ll leave for the station shortly.”

“I wish you a swift, pleasant journey, old friend.”

Rogers ducked his head. “And you as well, master. Paris is nearer than most of my destinations, but you still have to get there.” He glanced at the old photograph of Laisha and then back at him, sympathy in his faded-blue eyes. “If you can manage it, I ask that you don’t fall to brooding again. This detachment of yours is hard enough.”

Szent-Germain’s slight shake of his head was hardly enough to see, but Rogers knew what was bothering him. “I won’t.”

“Nor any of the others: not Csimenae, not Estasia, not Acana Tupac,” Rogers warned. “This is not a good time to take unhappy risks.”

“It never is.”

“Then for all … all your forgotten gods, stop pretending you don’t grieve for her, and all the others.” Rogers’ faded-blue eyes revealed his concern far more than his choice of words.

“You’re wrong to put Laisha with the others, you know,” Szent-Germain corrected gently. “Laisha wasn’t like them—she was my child, not my lover, and I failed to protect her.” This was a remarkable admission for Szent-Germain to make, and though neither he nor Rogers mentioned it, there was a subtle change in the office.

“Still,” said Rogers.

“Yes; you’re right. It is never a good time to take unhappy risks,” Szent-Germain reiterated. “Do not fear: I have too many matters to attend to; I cannot permit myself to give in to grief. It would not honor Laisha’s memory if I did.”

Rogers nodded, but continued to harbor concerns as he stepped out of the Grof’s office. After a few seconds’ reflection, he closed the door; it was never a good sign when Szent-Germain dwelled on his losses. He squared his shoulders and went along to the rear of the house, where he found Willemyn Cooznetz in the pantry, checking her inventory against what was on the shelves. “Willemyn,” he said directly to avoid startling her.