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I debated for a moment. My biggest lead was the Schyler co
There was a slight wriggling under the stone.
"If you are finished, O Lenient One, might I be allowed to proceed on my way? I suffer the Red—hot Stipples if I am late delivering my messages."
"Very well." It is not uncommon to swallow lesser imps that fall into one's power, but that wasn't really my style.[46] I removed myself from the boulder and tossed it to one side. A paper—thin messenger folded himself in a couple of places and got painfully to his feet.
"Here're your letters. Don't worry, I haven't doctored them."
"Nothing to do with me if you had, O Glorious Meteor of the East. I simply carry the envelopes. Don't know nuffin about what's in 'em, do I?" The crisis over, the imp was already reverting to his obnoxious type.
"Tell no one about our meeting, or I'll be waiting for you next time you set out."
"What, d'you think I'd go looking for trouble? No way. Well, if my drubbing's over, I'm out of here."
With a few weary beats of his leathery wings, the imp rose into the air and disappeared over the trees. I gave him a few minutes to get clear, then I turned into a pigeon again and flew off myself, heading southward over the lonely heath to distant Piccadilly.
17
Pi
I had to be careful when landing—many of the ledges had been spiked or painted with sticky lime to deter no—good pigeons such as me—but I finally settled on the top of a road sign with a good view of Pi
Each window was a monument to the pretension and vulgarity to which all magicians secretly aspired: jeweled staffs rotated on stands; giant magnifying glasses were trained on sparkling arrays of rings and bracelets; automated ma
Through one of the windows I could see a high counter of polished wood at which sat an immensely fat man dressed all in white. Perched precariously on a stool, he was busy issuing orders to a pile of boxes that wobbled and teetered beside him. A final command was given, the fat man looked away and the pile of boxes set off uncertainly across the room. A moment later they turned and I glimpsed a small stumpy foliot[47] laboring beneath them. When he arrived at a set of shelves in one corner of the shop, he extended a particularly long tail and, with a series of deft movements, scooped the boxes one by one from the top of the pile and set them carefully on the shelf.
The fat man I took to be Sholto Pi
The small foliot looked a better bet. I waited patiently for my chance.
When lunch time came, the trickle of well—heeled customers entering Pi
A few sales were made, then the lunch hour drew to a close and the customers departed. Now Sholto's thoughts turned to his belly. He gave the foliot a few instructions, put on a thick black overcoat, and left his shop. I watched him hail a cab and be driven off into the traffic. This was good. He was going to be some time.
Behind him, the foliot had put up a closed sign on the door and had retired to the stool beside the counter, where, in mimicry of Sholto, he puffed himself out importantly.
Now was my chance. I changed my guise. Gone was the pigeon; instead a humble messenger imp, modeled on the one I'd beaten up at Hampstead, came a—knocking on Pi
"We're closed."
"Message here for Mr. Sholto."
"He's out. Come back later."
"It can't wait, guv'nor. Urgent. When's he due back?"
"In an hour or so. The master has gone for lunch."
"Where's he gone?"
"He did not furnish me with that information." This foliot had a haughty, superior sort of ma
"Don't matter. I'll wait." And with a wriggle and a slide I rounded the door, ducked under his arm, and entered the shop.
"Coo, this is posh, i
The foliot hurried after me in a panic. "Get out! Get out! Mr. Pi
"Don't get so steamed up, matey, I won't nick nuffin."
The foliot positioned himself between me and the nearest rack of silver pocket watches. "I should think not! With one stamp of my foot I can call up a horla to devour any thief or intruder! Now please leave!"
"All right, all right." My shoulders slumped as I turned for the door. "You're too powerful for me. And too highly favored. It's not everyone gets to run a posh place like this."
"You're right there." The foliot was prickly, but also vain and weak.
"Bet you don't get any beatings, or the Red—hot Stipples neither."
"I certainly do not! I am a model of efficiency, and the master is very gracious to me."
I knew then what sort I was dealing with. He was a collaborator of the worst kind. I wanted to bite him.[48] However, it did give me an angle to work on.
"Cor!" I said. "I should think he is gracious and all. Why? 'Cos he knows how lucky he is to have your help. Reckon he can't do without you. I bet you're good at lugging heavy stuff around. And you can reach high shelves with that tail of yours, or use it to sweep the floor—"
The foliot drew himself up. "You cheeky fungus! The master values me for a great deal more than that! I'll have you know he refers to me (in company, mark you) as his assistant! I mind the shop for him while he takes his lunch. I keep the accounts, I help research the items that are offered, I have many contacts—"
46
Besides, it would have given me a stitch when flying.
47
Foliot: a cut—price dji
48
Most of us enact our duties only under sufferance, simply because we are hurt if we do not cooperate. But a few, typically ones in cushy jobs like Sholto's servant, grow to enjoy their servile status, and no longer resent their situation. Often they do not even have to be summoned, but are happy to engage in prolonged work for their masters, heedless of the pain they suffer from being continually trapped in a physical body. The rest of us generally regard them with hatred and contempt.