THE THESSALY AFFAIR - CHAPTER THREE - EFAN MARDONIOS
VII.
Narvi’s cousin was in the onion trade, so we were supposed to believe, and we found him in the Night Market unloading all kinds of things that didn’t look like ropes of onions nor bags of them. I don’t pay close attention when it’s not my business. Narvi was there too, and he grinned and grinned.
His dental work has not improved in the past couple of years.
“La, Miss Fenek,” he said, swinging his legs as he sat in the back of the cart. “Needing sommat done?”
“Moving day,” I said, laconic.
“Moving—from where? Not yer nice office? Not yer nice flat?”
“The flat.”
“Not a problem with you and th’Ensign-Captain?”
“Sweet of you to sound worried. Nah, not exactly. He’s getting married. He’s got a bigger house to keep.”
“Ahhh.” Narvi’s eyebrows bunched. “Not you marrying, then.”
I snorted. “I’m an intellectual skivvy, no more.”
That went over his head. “So you’n the wife—both same house?”
“Reckon it will be like it is now. Maybe more so,” I sighed. “I’ll sleep at my office all the time, likely. She’s not happy, and I can’t say I am either.”
“Nah! Ensign-Captain’s too fond on ye. Better be a big house, tho’.” Narvi grinned. “Don’t see how any house is big enough for Miss Dardana Fenek and another woman besides Barsina.”
“Well, you want, you can take a gander. Come help, and I’ll slip you some blue.”
“Oi, I’m not much into house-moving.”
“No furniture. Just personal belongings.”
“That’s a different matter. Cuz, y’like to earn a little?”
Cuz pulled a long face.
“He’ll just rent out the cart,” Narvi translated with a grin. “A drachm do ye?—Aye, Miss Fenek, a drachm will do’im.”
Barsina slipped the cousin a single. The rest of cousin’s contraband was stowed behind the onion stall, and Navi had the reins. I hopped up on his left hand, and Barsina sat in the bed on a reasonably clean gunny sack.
I filled Narvi in as we clopped along.
“Oi, Miss Fenek, if I brought home another woman, my old lady would have taken a bottle to me.”
Narvi’s old lady is strictly fictional, but I sympathized.
“We’ve got a different situation,” I said. “Toffs is toffs, and girls is girls.”
“Toffs is toffs. Well, his fam’ly made the choice for him, and I think it’s decent he’s not putting you out.”
“She can’t agree.”
“Aye, aye. Well. And he’s shot out of town and left you two t’figure it out, ain’t he?”
“That he has. I don’t suppose you have a theory why he’s gone?”
“I figger he expects you two to pull each other’s hair until one comes out on top.”
“Barsina?”
“She would win, Miss.”
Narvi laughed at my expression. “When you ever fight a citizen before?”
“Men who pinch my bum, Narvi?”
“Hat-pins don’t count.”
“Shot two once.”
He laughed. “Not fist to fist, Miss.”
“Give me some real reasons, Narvi. Alagon said Brigadier Deniz sent him.”
“Ask Brigadier Deniz.”
I pondered this for only a second. “He’s never said a sentence to me, and I’ve been on Efan’s arm at parties. He won’t start now when it’s none of my business.”
“It never works when you mix with better sorts. Ye need a hand every time.”
“Not every time, Narvi.”
“It’s dangerous, Miss.”
“Barsnjo, don’t you start.”
“As Miss pleases.”
“I do please. No rumors, Narvi? No rumbles?”
“Clytemnestra, eh?”
“Just so.”
“You give me a little, and I’ll put my ears out.”
Barsina offered two bills, but Narvi coughed.
“He’s helping us move, too, Barsina.”
Narvi took his three bills, and did a creditable job carrying. We covered the bed of the cart with a tarpaulin from the basement and ran things upstairs and down. The housekeeper, a manumitted woman herself, guarded the cart and gave me her girl’s—our new housekeeper’s—papers. The girl popped her tiny pillowcase of belongings in the cart and went-to in toting down, which was more than I expected of her. We’d always been on good terms, but I imagine she viewed Barsnjo and me as intruders and spoilers of a little paradise.
Well, she and I were in the same bucket now.
I kept my eyes open sharpish as I emptied Efan’s desk. He had already moved nearly everything militia-related, including his terminal, which I’d never managed to break into. However, tossed in the back of the top drawer was the notebook where he jotted down random thoughts and memoranda to himself. I picked it up, and it instantly fell open to reveal pages that were torn clean out.
I touched the rough edges. This seemed unlike Efan. I’d never known him even to fold the corner of a page. No notes followed, and the jottings before seemed a fortnight old. I thoughtfully slipped it into my girdle. Then I pondered his books, and decided, as I lugged the damned things downstairs, that they and I would need finally to get acquainted.
On to our clothes, and I realized for the first time, as I dragged armloads of them down the narrow stairs, how much clothing Efan had bought for me. I thought about the early days when Barsina and I had one outfit each, and I felt ridiculous, even soft and preening.
Well, Barsina and our new housekeeper sat on the back of the cart, and the girl waved goodbye to the old housekeeper, who took our keys. We went around and up the hill.
And while we jolted along, I took out that notebook and looked at the jagged torn page stubs, and nibbled my lip.