"The Czar would agree with you on that point," said Menshikov.
"I look forward to meeting him--is he in the city at present?" Niklos inquired, knowing from Saint-Germain that he was not.
"He is with his troops," said Menshikov. "I don't expect him to return until the worst winter storms have passed."
"I may well have left by then; I have diverted from my plans, but I can't neglect my purposes for too long; as soon as my claims are fully established, I will probably depart, weather permitting. Perhaps his path and mine will cross on our travels if they don't cross here," said Niklos, pulling on his glove and preparing to rise. "Whom should I see about authenticating my patents or arms?"
"The Clerk of the Foreign Quarter: Jeremye Kristostomovich Belayov. He will take care of translating and recording the material you provide. His office is in the Archive Building--that's the new one about half-completed at the west end of the Foreign Quarter. In time, when the Admiralty is built as the Czar wishes, the Archive will be kept there, and the current building will be torn down for the permanent residence of the English Ambassador." He regarded Niklos with steady patience. "You may not know how these matters are handled in Sankt Piterburkh; do you want to make it worth my while to speed your applications through the Archivist's hands?"
Niklos had been warned about Menshikov's fondness for bribes, and so he responded smoothly, "I have with me three diamonds of excellent quality, newly cut. If they would help to bring my case to the immediate attention of the Archivist, then it would be my honor to provide this incentive to you and to him."
"Grofok, I believe we can have your claims upheld in ten days or so, which is the most rapid response we can provide." He stood up; so did Niklos. "I thank you for coming to me before announcing your intentions to all the city, which could stir up controversy none of us would like. If you would leave the stones with me, I'll have the Dutch merchant appraise them. In the meantime, my messenger will inform Jeremye Kristostomovich that you will call upon him tomorrow morning--I assume that will be convenient?"
"Most convenient, and I thank you for your ... consideration." Niklos pulled open a black leather pouch embossed with the eclipse sigil of Saint-Germain. "With my gratitude, Poteshnye Menshikov." He handed it over with an elegant bow.
Menshikov winkled it away at once. "Much appreciated, Grofok."
Passing through the outer section of the office, Niklos offered a suggestion of a bow to Menshikov's scribe. "Thank you, Nikolai Dmitreivich." He dropped an Austrian gold Emperor on the edge of Urusov's desk, and continued on to the vestibule to claim his long Hungarian cloak. He passed out of Menshikov's house and made for the Foreign Quarter along the freshly cleared streets. Since the light was fading to night, the work-gangs had been taken back to their camps to spend the next fourteen hours in tents. There were not very many people abroad in the anemic light of the distant, setting sun, but those who were on the street stared at him, noting him as a stranger in their midst.
"How did it go?" Saint-Germain asked in Roman Italian as he admitted Niklos to the care-house.
"You were right about the bribe. No one in all of Byzantium could have done it more smoothly. He had the good grace not to examine the stones too closely while I was present." He surrendered his cloak to Kyril and removed a thin short-sword from down the center of the back of his coat. "Be careful with that; it's sharp," he admonished Kyril in Russian.
Kyril looked at Niklos with a kind of concentration that demanded attention in return. "You have learned to guard yourself," he declared.
"I have traveled much, and that has taught me practical wariness," said Niklos.
"This is a most subtle blade."
"That it is," said Niklos. "I had it from an old-fashioned blade-smith in Damascus." He had purchased it when the Crusades were at their height. He rounded on Saint-Germain, returning to Italian, "So I am at your disposal, Hercegek. You summoned me--for which I am most sincerely grateful--and I will be at your service while I am in this city."
"Elegantly said," Saint-Germain approved, indicating the main room on the first floor of the care-house; for Kyril's sake, he spoke in Russian, "Now that you have finished with your day's work--and I take it you are finished--I will be pleased to show you about the care-house and the Foreign Quarter, assuming there is no more snow until the city is asleep."
Niklos looked around at Kyril. "Is Hroger in?"
"He's upstairs in the Hercegek's quarters," said Kyril. "As the Hercegek well knows."
"Then perhaps he would be willing to discuss making arrangements with me to permit me to join him in finding food?" Niklos suggested. "I'm hungry."
"Speak to him upstairs," said Saint-Germain.
Niklos noticed that two of the monks had emerged from the side-rooms and were staring at him. "These men must have seen foreigners before."
"That they have," said Saint-Germain, looking pointedly at the two monks. "But winter has been thin of new company, and any novelty is subjected to scrutiny, as much for entertainment as for protection."
"Hardly surprising that you have few new-comers, considering what it took to get here," said Niklos. "Had I not been spurred by necessity, I wouldn't have arrived until April was half over."
"That would have led to more problems than we presently have." Saint-Germain bowed in the direction of the stairs. "If you would care to join me in my quarters, Hroger and I can see you set up as comfortably as is possible." He went to the stairs and began to climb. "You may make arrangements for food with Hroger."
Niklos glanced at the two monks and then followed Saint-Germain upward and through the surgery-room into Saint-Germain's quarters, where he found Hroger setting out a raw haunch of goat between two wooden plates laid out at the near end of the trestle-table. He grinned and saluted Hroger. "What a welcome!"
Hroger inclined his head. "I thought you must be hungry, and reluctant to dine where you might be observed." He spoke in Imperial Latin.
"Which seems to be almost everywhere in this city; I am watched constantly," said Niklos in the same tongue, and looked around at Saint-Germain. "You are in a fix, Sanct' Germain, and no doubt about it," deliberately using the version of his name that he had been using when they first met. "It will take some skill to extricate yourself with so small a community and so many eyes."
"Yes, I am, as you say, in a fix," Saint-Germain agreed. "Which is why I sent for you; I could think of no one else."
"I'm honored that you did. Tergeste was a long, long time ago, and so was Porolissensis. Our legal dispute in Roma was what--twenty, twenty-five years since?" He smiled with great enthusiasm. "All were worthy fights. I'm pleased to be part of this one."
"This one is more subtle than dealing with murderous pirates or holding off marauding Huns. To end one deception while maintaining another--" Almost fourteen hundred years had passed since he had restored Niklos to life, as he had restored Hroger to life nearly two hundred fifty years before that.
"Or protecting my legacy in Roma?" Niklos suggested.
"I trust this is worthy in its own way." Saint-Germain went toward the center of the room. "When you have dined, I will show you how we have set up your bed."
Hroger looked at Niklos. "It's a bit unnerving, seeing you all in black, and my master in colors." He indicated the knives and forks set out. "If you would like to begin? I don't want to rush you, but I'm afraid I don't have much time, and I'll need to dispose of the bones before I do my rounds with Madame Svarinskaya."
"Certainly," said Niklos, drawing up one of the stools set along
the table. "Do you have any recommendation about what I should do next?" he asked Saint-Germain as he perched on the stool.
"What did Menshikov recommend?" Saint-Germain inquired. "Did he give you any instructions?"
"He said that I should take my patents and other bona fides to the Foreign Quarter Archivist tomorrow and submit them to his examination. I expect the Archivist will be more helpful to my cause if I give him a bribe. You were right about Menshikov; I gather that if he has his hand out, I must suppose other officials do, as well." He began to cut a good portion of meat away from the bone, and when he had enough, put it on his plate.
"Then that is what you must do. Anything Menshikov suggests, unless it would compromise either of us, do it, and with an appropriate token of gratitude." Saint-Germain sat down in his high-backed chair, remarking as he did, "He is both the most efficient and the most corrupt man in all of Sankt Piterburkh."
"Strange fellow, Menshikov; I'm surprised the Czar puts so much faith in him. Still, I gather he gets things done," Niklos said, cutting a number of small bits of the meat before starting in on them. "Is it true he can't read?"
"He knows a few basics, but that is the extent of it; he is not able to write much more than a simple sentence, and all the reports submitted to him have to be read aloud; he is hardly the only one," said Saint-Germain. "I will say this for Menshikov: he can make good sense of maps and plans, however little he can manage a book."
"And he's the Czar's most trusted advisor? Truly? How could that have happened?" Niklos shook his head in bafflement.
"He is not stupid; never think he is. And he is truly effective in his post, for all that he uses it to enrich himself shamelessly." Saint-Germain gave a little sigh. "Compared to some of the old nobles, he is forward-looking and brilliant in his own way."
"Do you like him?" Niklos asked in surprise.
"I did not say that," Saint-Germain answered obliquely.
"But do you?" Niklos persisted.
"I do not dislike him," Saint-Germain conceded.
"How difficult was your journey here?" Hroger asked, changing the subject.
Niklos accepted the new direction in their conversation. "It was bitterly cold, and thank goodness we could use secondary roads, for there are bandits in plenty along the main ones. Boguslav Miesienkevic knows his way along many roads. I was sorry to have to bid him farewell when we reached Pskov. I gave him the money you promised him and he turned west toward Riga and a ship bound for England or France as soon as the ice is gone, so that from there he could travel on to the Americas." This report was calmly provided, and there was a knowing nod from Hroger.
"He drove a hard bargain, but he certainly knew his way about. If he's determined to see the New World, may he have better fortune there than my master and I had." Hroger was rushing his eating, not only because he was bored with goat-meat but because he had no wish to be hurried to his duties. "Madame Svarinskaya will be up within the hour and would like a word with you," he added to Saint-Germain.
"Very good. If you will, tell her I am at her disposal. She needs to know more about our guest." He gave his attention to Niklos again. "I read the material Moricz Losi sent with you--and I thank you for bringing it."
"He told me to inform you that your lands need your attention, and sooner rather than later; he thinks you should return home," said Niklos, not apologizing for chewing while he spoke.
"I am aware of that," said Saint-Germain. "I will need to arrange something with the Ksiezna as soon as the thaw begins. She may want to stay here longer, and if that is her decision, she and Benedykt can arrange that." He was silent for a few seconds, knowing how displeased Zozia would be to have to answer to her brother; then he added, "I doubt if she and I can sustain our imposture much longer in any case. It is becoming too complicated; her brother will be glad to be rid of me."
"Are you certain of that?" Niklos asked.
Hroger answered, "Oh, yes. Ksiaze Radom wants his sister to be wholly under his influence. He was delighted when my master was
compelled to leave the Polish house for here; he made no secret of his satisfaction."
"Why would he--" Niklos stopped himself. "No doubt the man has his reasons."
"Everyone has reasons," said Saint-Germain. "They may not be sensible, but they are reasons."
"Olivia used to say much the same of you, when she was exasperated with you," said Niklos, and then went silent. The mention of Atta Olivia Clemens resounded like the toll of a bell throughout the room, and the silence deepened. Then Niklos made himself continue, "It is not quite fifty years since she died the True Death. I know she's gone, but it hardly seems possible."
Saint-Germain stared in the direction of the athanor, seeing something else, seeing Olivia in a garden at Nero's Golden House in Roma. "No, it does not seem possible." Then he cleared his throat and went on, "I can only guess at Ksiaze Radom's reasons for what he does, but I have thought from time to time that he is jealous of Zozia, and wants to constrain her so that her talents will not diminish his own, which are not as great as hers. For her part, she is a woman who chafes at constraint, and that has resulted in a very precarious balance between them. Occasionally I wonder if she provokes him deliberately, in the hope he will make a mis-step and expose himself."
"It is better to be here, at the care-house, than with the Poles," said Hroger, adding to Niklos, "You will find that with a little circumspection, it isn't too overwhelming to have so many sick and injured around you. Think of the conditions when the Huns attacked: this is nowhere near as bad."
"You're right," said Niklos. "But I wouldn't want to remain here for long. It's too easy to be all but imprisoned in such a place as this."
"It may be true," said Hroger.
"Tomorrow there is a concert being played at the Hessian Residence. If you think you might enjoy it, plan to come with me; the Hessians are the newest faces here, and they will be glad to have someone divert the attention of the Foreign Quarter away from
