As Luis passed the Montaigne checkpoint into Barcino, he steered the coach toward El Caballo Negro, and the Heroes scanned what they could see of the city. It was quiet, clean, and at peace. It was also obvious how heavily the hand of l'Empereur lay upon the Castillian port. Clothing and signs bore the stamp of Montaigne, and the Castillians on the streets kept quietly to themselves as they walked. As the coach came to a stop, Henri, now in his guise as Captain Martin de la Riché du Paroisse, composed his features, remembering as clearly as he could the mocking face of Mademoiselle Jamais.
Luis set the steps and opened the coach door, as the Captain strode out without a word. With a dismissive flick of his crimson fingers, he indicated the baggage, and began to sail up the steps, his comrades in tow. The proprietor hurried out, bowing and welcoming the party of soldiers, apologizing for the shortage of servants, and promising the best his hôtel had to offer. The captain stood with an air of distraction, and then turned suddenly as if noticing the man for the first time.
"And I am interested in your little difficulties... why, precisely?"
"Oh, monsieur, I merely-- "
"No matter. My staff require rooms. Oh, and my Castillian shall need a cot somewhere, I suppose. When this is gone, inform me, and more shall be provided," he said, fishing several large Vendel notes from his purse. "Fresh flowers in my room each day, and baths, immediately."
As the proprietor bowed, the captain swept in through the main hall and began making his way up the main stairs, hearing the noise behind him of servants struggling to unload luggage and keep up with the new tenants. The Heroes followed up the stairs as well, stopping at the top, and receiving their lodgings in spacious suites. Unfortunately, four could be found together, but not five; Asgard would be housed just down the hall in a room of her own. Thomas, who had been turning toward the walls as they entered, continued to shade his face with his hand, and tugged his hat down more tightly.
In their rooms, Henri watched as his clothes were put away, and waited for his bath. The servant who had tended him was a young man of about fourteen years of age, well-favored, if poorly dressed. He had brought up a letter from Don Cristian de Acedo y Lopez inviting him to attend him at the theater that evening. Henri fixed him with a warm look and thanked the dear boy for his services, then asked if he would be so good as to inform him when dinner was ready. Although the fellow, Garcia by name, brought up water, it was a young woman who arrived to tend to his bathing.
The captain sighed, visibly disappointed, turned back to his book, and extended one booted foot, giving the maid no attention whatever. The second shoe dropped, and he alternated holding out his hands, absently, for the undoing of his cuffs and shirt. She found herself dismissed by the still-trousered captain and left wondering to herself just what sort of man he was.
Clean and dressed, the Heroes met to confer over the evening's plans. Cecil, as Jules, would attend the theater with Henri, in his guise as Captain Martin. Thomas would take Quinn, now called Denis, with him to contact the Vagos in Barcino and learn of the situation in the city. Asgard, or Victoire, would attend Thomas and Denis, if she could be found. Her voice had been heard, rather warm with interest, in the hall as the gentlemen bathed, and she was no doubt earnestly engaged in the furtherance of their, or at least some, mission.
Dinner was excellent, though as Captain Martin, Henri found it difficult to acknowledge it so. When Garcia brought word of the coach, and of Luis attending, he favored the fellow with another melting glance, then handed him a few folded notes, and urged the darling man to dress himself with some distinction, if he was to be seen with the captain in the future. Delighted with the money, and either oblivious or discreet, he bowed and watched the coach depart.
Arriving at the theater, some little while after the beginning of the play, Cecil and Henri marveled at the ancient building. Dubbed "The Seat of Numa," it had been the senate house of the old Numan province centuries ago, and had been refurbished as a grand theater, opulent by Castillian standards, though not nearly approaching the extravagance of Montaigne's, nor the marvelous intricacy of the Vodacciani. The men handed their invitation to an usher, and made their way up the steps, letting him pursue them and then steer them to the box of Don Cristian.
A distinguished fellow, well dressed and dignified, the Don welcomed them. Wine was poured as the Heroes watched the actors' performance, and to Henri's delight, it was a taste of home. Taking a seat well back from the front of the box and fearing the presence of spies elsewhere in the theater, he blocked the view of his mouth with his glass and began to exchange news with the Don. The two Heroes learned of the arrival of the new alcalde, following the removal of the former, answered the Don's earnest inquiries after Thomas's health, seeing the deep friendship the man held for their difficult traveling companion, and learned that the new alcalde would be hosting a party in a week's time.
Cecil and Henri exchanged a conspiratorial look, and suggested that this might be the opportunity they needed to switch the men. Henri asked if it would be possible to see the alcalde before then, as it would be important to get a clear view of his face and manners, so that Thomas could create an effective disguise. The Heroes puzzled a bit over how Thomas would be able to replicate the features of a man he had never seen, and turned to find Don Cristian eyeing them incredulously.
"But did you not know? He and Thomas are brothers! They are twins, in fact!"
This was welcome news indeed, though the hair would still need to be matched, as would the clothes. At the interval between acts, the theatergoers began to circulate, as was the fashion, among the various boxes whose occupants held court and entertained their friends and new acquaintances. Captain Martin sauntered to the box of the alcalde, just above stage left, and found himself turned aside by guards. Exchanging banter with the humorless fellows, he left his name and was told to return at the next interval.
The play proceeded, enjoyably and well acted. A romance involving a Montaigne soldier and a Castillian peasant girl played itself out before the audience, which murmured appreciatively as she betrayed her country to usher in her lover's troops, inviting him in song to take possession of her, body, soul, and nation. A little sick at heart, Henri attempted to reach the alcalde once again. Admitted, he found himself face to face with the very image of Thomas. The mustaches were trimmed a bit, worn straight down the sides of the mouth, and the hair pulled back in what was currently dubbed "le Montegue," but the features and manner were unnervingly similar. The captain gave his compliments, and his observation that the alcalde had done a splendid job of bringing the city to heel, rendering it very nearly civilized. He found himself dismissed, as the alcalde wished to entertain his good friend the Ambassador. Departing, he beheld a finely dressed Vodacciano, wearing a stunning beauty upon one arm, who passed him without a glance into the alcalde's box. He barely heard mention of "the treaty" as the door closed, sending him back to Don Cristian and Cecil whom he informed of what had transpired.
Meanwhile, Thomas and Denis Leveque, late of the Rose and Cross, made their way in street clothes to a small district housing several drinking establishments. Dubbed Las Iglesias, they were housed in buildings recently vacated by order of l'Empereur's officers, who had little tolerance for Vaticine superstitions. Thomas entered a small, dark dive and made for a table at the back. Sitting down with the man at that table, he exchanged quietly muttered news of the rest of the nation for briefing on the local situation. Unfortunately, Los Vagos in Barcino had fractured over the past few months in frustration over the apparent lack if progress in removing the Montaigne stranglehold on the city, indeed, on the peninsula. Further, a former leader in the brotherhood had gone missing, perhaps rogue. Following the burning of San Juan, he had gone mad, it was said, and many thought he had become responsible for the series of Montaigne officers found burned to death here and there in northwestern Castille.
As Thomas described his plan for replacing the current alcalde, he was also told that the half of the Vagos who had left, calling themselves "the abandoned" were intent upon killing that traitorous collaborator. In fact, there was a rumor that they might even strike that evening at the Numan Seat. Quinn observed that that could not be allowed to happen, and departed for the theater, with Thomas racing to catch up to him.
At the Numan Seat, the Knight found himself in an unusual predicament. Without pin, without tabard, without ticket, and in street clothes, he was utterly unable to convince the ushers that he had business inside. Thomas arrived, and suggested making their way in via the stage door. As Thomas engaged the doorman in back, Quinn raced past the man's turned back, and soon lost himself from view in the chaos backstage. Attempting to get a view of the alcalde's box, he observed the man speaking with a dark, handsome fellow, but could see no other sign of danger. He spied movement in the rafters and catwalks above the stage, but upon ascending found merely a small group of artisans playing cards and awaiting the cue to change backdrops and scenery.
As the play ended, he made his way in among the audience, departing with the crowds, and lingering outside to watch for the abandoned ones. As the alcalde emerged, with guards and his Vodacciani guests, Quinn caught a flicker of movement. A largish fellow drew a large pistol from his heavy coat. As he aimed and began to fire, the Knight fought his way through the crowd. The pistol fired, galvanizing the guards. Some ringed the alcalde as he fell; others bulled their way towards the gunman, who had turned and fled back into the theater.
Don Cristian suggested to Henri and Cecil that they meet with his protegee, the actress supporting the lead in the evening's performance. Captain Martin was enchanted to make the acquaintance of Andrea, a charming Castillana, as was Jules. At the Don's suggestion, they agreed to take a late supper at El Toreador, a cantina near the Numan Seat. As they made their way across the stage (to the fussing of Captain Martin, who had no wish to be seen in such a scandalous place) shouts were heard, and people began running down the aisles.
The gunman had run up the stairs to the boxes, with Quinn in hot pursuit. He had drawn a bit of a lead by now, then was seen entering a theater box. He leapt from there to the mezzanine below, as the Knight laughed. Gauging the fellow's course, he leapt down into the aisle and gained ground in his chase. In desperation the assassin made for the orchestra pit, slipping through a door and beneath the stage. Racing to catch him, Quinn found only darkness and stage properties, for his quarry had quite vanished. Disgruntled, he returned outside, and commiserated with Thomas, who had at least one small note of comfort: the alcalde had been only slightly wounded, and was walking on his own as he entered his carriage for home.
Shrugging off the vague perception of ruffians who had burst into the theater, Captain Martin and Jules let themselves be taken to dinner. Jules found himself the object of a Montaignaise's attentions, and danced competently if a bit warily with the fellow soldier. Don Cristian and Martin mused over the difficulties of arranging invitations to the alcalde's party, when the captain hit upon a lucky inspiration. He caught a glimpse of a slim red book in the jacket of a passing soldier. The fellow looked a bit weary, a bit worn, perhaps on leave but healthy enough. Slipping away from the Don, Martin made a few observations to the empty air regarding the deplorable availability of seditious trash, to be read by those who knew no better.
His remarks were excepted by the soldier, who placed the book on his table and inquired angrily if the captain had even read what he was so vehemently condemning. Eyeing the title, and his own pseudonym on the cover, the captain remarked archly that he did not need to touch filth to recognize it, whether between covers, or in uniform. Stung to fury, the soldier snatched up a glove and struck the captain a blow.
"Sniveling traitor," the captain spat. "I'll take satisfaction from your base hide for that. If you can find, or buy, a second, send him to my hôtel in the morning. Captain Martin de la Riché du Paroisse will not be trifled with."
"He'll be there!" the man spat back. "And you're the one who'll pay for your insults!"
Captain Martin snickered. "Your name, you insolent fellow?"
"Jerôme... "