slave to a sultan and came to the city after killing him, or after saving his life and being freed. Some claimed she was The Cardinal’s mother. A reformed whore. A deposed princess.
Throw a stick and pick one. What
was
known was she’d been with The Cardinal from day one. She’d helped guide him from the gutters to the skies, but nobody knew how much active influence she now had in the growth of his empire, whether she was a pawn on the board or a sly queen watching from the sidelines.
Some said she’d only refined his manners and tutored him in the ways of form. According to others she was the brains behind his early rise. A few claimed The Cardinal was merely a front for the greater genius of Leonora Shankar, a puppet she manipulated to suit her own ends. But nobody knew for sure.
“I am pleased to meet you at last, Capac,” she said, her voice soft and alluring, her lashes fluttering flirtatiously. “I see you here often. You like my restaurant?”
“Very much,” I replied.
“Splendid.” She looked around fondly. “I feel like we are old friends, this room and I. Dorry offered to move me several times. He wanted me to find new pastures and explore new avenues.” She shook her head. “I do not think he ever really understood my compulsion to remain here. To Dorry this was always a restaurant, nothing more.”
“Dorry?”
I frowned.
“The Cardinal. That is how I always call him. From his surname,
Dorak
.”
I’d forgotten he had a real name, that he hadn’t always been The Cardinal. Something-or-other Dorak. I couldn’t remember his first name—wasn’t sure I even knew it.
The robed stranger spoke. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Leonora?”
“Of course. Capac Raimi, this is my dear friend, Y Tse Lapotaire.”
“A pleasure to meet me,” he grinned, leaning forward to shake my hand. “The time is ripe, friend Capac,” he whispered seriously, clutching my hand tightly. “I greet you with a warm heart and the best of wills.” He pulled back, breaking the grip, and smiled broadly again. “Adrink?”
“Beer, please.” I stared at him quizzically. He was in much the same state as when first I had seen him, covered in mock tattoos, mascara, lipstick and paint. Red, black and green were his favorite colors, teased into every line, smeared around every curve. Purple by the eyes, pink lips, orange streaks down either side of his nose. His ears were covered with plastic rings. He was sporting a turban today, a couple of knitting needles jabbed into it Oriental-style. His robes shifted around him like a school of darting eels, layers and scraps of cloth held together by colorful pins. His toenails were in need of a serious manicure beneath the sandals.
“I’m quite a specimen, aren’t I, friend Capac?” he asked.
“You’re not the sort I’d take home to mother,” I agreed.
“Y Tse likes playing the eccentric,” Leonora said. “But do not be fooled. He is little more than a dull duck dressed up as a peacock.”
“Please,” he winced, “don’t give away
all
my secrets in one fell swoop. Let the boy marvel at my weirdness a while.” He took a sip from the huge yellow cocktail he was drinking.
“You’ve got an odd name,” I remarked. “Is it French?”
He toyed with his glass, ignored the question and instead said, “How are you enjoying life with The Cardinal?”
“I like it. Although I wouldn’t say life
with
The Cardinal. I haven’t seen him since our first meeting.”
“Really?” His eyes enlarged speculatively. “That’s a good sign. The Cardinal only summons you when he thinks you’re doing something wrong. The less time he spends on you, the better.”
“I doubt it’s that,” I smiled. “I’m only an insurance agent. He probably hasn’t thought of me since that first night.”
“Oh, I think The Cardinal has thought of you quite a lot,” Y Tse said softly. “I can tell you right here and now, as sure as my name’s not Y Tse Lapotaire, he