That afternoon Baron Iglacias Rostov sat reading and writing in a secluded wooded garden next to one of his estate’s smaller cottages. Grigor Jankov came up, his pack filled with oddball trinkets, clanking at each step in time with the lively march he was singing. He stopped a few steps away, doffed his cap with a flourish, and asked, “You sent for me, m’lord?”
The Baron smiled. “Grigor, I have something that needs your attention.” He offered his retainer an old alarm clock.
As Grigor walked the final steps to the Baron, his manner became that of a quiet, mousey scholar. He took the clock and studied it carefully. “There is much that needs my attention, Your Excellency,” he replied.
As always the wizard was impressed by Grigor’s quick transition from noisy and flamboyant, when a detail called for his concentration.
Quietly, quickly, and earnestly Rostov continued, “You have heard me mention my suspicions of a certain John Porter. Mr. Porter has a reputation as an ambitious behind-the-scenes operator. However, he has no known trail of accomplishments, only a reputation. What is more curious, when my investigators report this lack of evidence, they look blithely at me as if I should find it entirely satisfactory. None of the three seem to grasp the significance of what they are saying.”
Grigor opened the clock and fiddled with the insides. “The railway project is big and complex. Are they perhaps not giving this side issue their full attention?”
“These men are as experienced in their way as you are in yours. They sift facts and numbers, looking for clues as to who will defraud me, yet they pass by this waving red flag as if it were nothing!
“I have just met with Bob Packer and Sarah Booles, first-rate convincers who are working for this mysterious Mr. Porter. In addition to his other talents, whatever they are, this Porter can recognize good people and afford them. He is worthy of attention.
“And now, as out of nowhere, these two tell me that Porter is connected with the Kalnichovs. And that the family actually support the railway!
“That pack has been openly fighting against this project … at least as openly as they do anything. That, I was expecting, and I was sincerely hoping that as they steadfastly fought they would fade into history as an evil memory—that the change would sweep them away.”
The Baron leaned back, relieving his eyes on the old oak tree at the edge of his garden. “It’s hard to believe how much progress mankind has made against their kind already. The Kalnichovs are now a center of evil because the greater evils have all been swept away. The time has come for me to do my share against these abominations of nature. This railway will sweep ignorance from our valley and the dread of the Kalnichovs will become a memory … unless my plan is upset.
“This Porter has turned from a curiosity into a nasty surprise. He’s a Kalnichov? With the ear of Vladimir? Could these old, sleeping dogs be learning new tricks? Or could Porter be a rebel, an outcast, using Vladimir’s name as a smokescreen?”
Grigor closed the clock and put it in his pack. Loudly enough for any listening servant to hear, he said, “Could be a trick to this. I’ll be a day or so looking into this, by your leave, sir.” Quietly he said, “He must know that there are few who leave the Kalnichovs’ service, and that those who do rarely survive long, because they are not trusted to be discreet. If he is outcast, why does he reveal himself? If he is not, why has the family chosen this upstart to represent them?”
“Find out about Porter, Grigor. Be careful as well as discreet. Don’t approach him directly, and be wary of those who do! There are whiffs of magic floating about this situation but the user is being so cautious I can tell you little. My people have not been controlled, but they have been persuaded, which argues greater power and experience. If he recognizes you as my agent, the evil behind Mr. Porter may swallow you. You can’t afford that. I can’t afford that.”
Grigor nodded deeply. “Yes, sir,” he said loudly. “Will there be anything else, Your Excellency?”
“Thank you, Grigor, that’s all for now.”
The Baron continued his reading and writing. Grigor hefted his pack and wandered back to the main house, rattling and singing. Next stop would be the kitchen, to wheedle the cook out of a snack in exchange for a romantic song.
The Rostov household knew Grigor as an eccentric half-gentleman, half-minstrel who entertained the Baron in a harmless way. He was tolerated, allowed access to their master, and otherwise ignored, which is exactly the relation a baron and his chief covert investigator should have.