He’s been nicknamed The Montaigne because of his hat!” “He isn’t from Montaigne, he is a member of the Red Hand gang from the Vodacce district. She knew she shouldn’t let her frustration get the better of her, but it remained an ongoing struggle. “The criminal troubling de la Murrieta,” Odette said, laying the report down on the desk and spreading her hands flat on it. “Who are we talking about?” Leontine said, and finished drinking her wine. “Wasn’t the merchant supposed to be Castilian?” Bastian said. Leontine was in the process of raising a cup of wine to her mouth. Henri Michelet had been practicing a new song on his lute, Jean was reading a philosophy tract, Leontine Giroux and Bastian Girard were playing cards. All around the room the others stopped what they were doing and stared at her. “He isn’t even from Montaigne!” Odette suddenly burst out. While her musketeers amused themselves, Odette read through her many reports. A map of the city and random piles of documents obscured much of the desk’s rosewood surface.
The large, ornately carved desk contrasted with the rest of the furnishings. Her office was furnished, like the rest of the suite, with furniture that had once been of high quality but had begun the gradual slide into shabbiness. It was located on the edge of one of the seedier districts of Five Sails, which made it both fairly cheap to rent and convenient for dealing with the city’s more unsavory inhabitants. Odette had taken a suite for herself and her musketeers at the Hotel Precieux. Let us collect the others and go visit the merchants of knowledge.” “But sometimes it is good to be reminded of them. “I usually try to forget such things,” Odette said. “I have seen you in darker times than this.” Jean touched her arm slightly and smiled. So far none of her plans had come to fruition, and she was running thin on goodwill. She would have to go to her patron’s other agents in Five Sails and ask for another round of favors. I will need to find out more about this man, if he has any patrons or family that I could use to influence him.” Odette flinched a little. And I didn’t meet her father at all.” She quickly summarized the problem of the street gang. “Not a single word, though I am even more convinced that Urraca’s social connections will be of great help in the search. “And did you hear any word about our elusive lady? “So how did your meeting with the rich merchant go?” Jean asked. The other three musketeers had predictably wandered, across the street, joining the locals in drinking and gambling with dice. When Odette finally left the house of de la Murrieta she found one of her musketeers, Jean Urbain, waiting for her at the gate. “I am so sorry to hear about your father’s problems,” Odette said. He’s taken it into his head that all the Montaigne in the city are in league against him, and he won’t hear a word otherwise.” They are led by a man from Montaigne, it is said, and they are causing trouble at some of Father’s warehouses. “Oh, it isn’t you personally,” Urraca said. “I am sorry to learn that I have offended him so,” she finally said. She accepted rebuffs as part and parcel of a courtier’s life, but rarely had she received such a blunt refusal. “I take it that your father will not be able to join us?” “I think I will be getting another one when my mail from home next arrives here.” She casually waved at the goblets and plates set out before them. “Will Marie ever escape the castle? No, don’t tell me, I want to read it myself. “I have been reading the book you lent me!” Urraca said, moving towards the table. He controlled a number of shipping contacts that would be very useful to her patron back in Montaigne. Urraca was also the daughter of one of Five Sails’ wealthiest merchants, Guillen de la Murrieta, a man who Odette very much wanted to ingratiate herself with. Urraca de la Murrieta was a young woman of many interests and a charming way of speaking about them Odette enjoyed the time she spent with her.
“I was gratified to receive your invitation.” It was a complicated truth. “Your emotions exactly mirror mine,” she said. “Our discussions are always so entertaining.” “I am so happy you could join me this afternoon,” her hostess said. The exception was the table located near the window that looked out over the house’s inner courtyard, neatly laid with table service for two. The parlor looked much the same as it did on her previous week’s visit: well-made but not ostentatious furniture, an embroidery frame with a newly-begun project in the corner, and books piled on nearly every table in the room. Odette de Dubois d’Arrent surveyed the room with a quick sweep of her eyes.