The Season - Cover

The Season

Copyright© 2023 by Charlie Foxtrot

Chapter 1

“You look as bored as I feel,” a warm, soft voice said next to me. I glanced, appreciating her sharp profile in the dim light of the balcony, and smiled.

“I’m just taking a break from being a social butterfly,” I said. “This is my sixth gala in ten days, and I feel like I’ve talked my throat raw.”

“But you’ve only shaken my hand and said what a pleasure it was to meet me,” she teased.

“That was eight days ago. I was trying to choose my follow-up line, but knew I’d be tongue-tied if I approached.”

She laughed. It was a throaty chuckle more than a solid guffaw, but it suited her. “You are charming despite being so shy,” she teased back. “Since I approached you, I guess you don’t have to be tongue-tied now.”

“Miss Dennison, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I’d ask if you are enjoying yourself, but I suspect you are bored with the high season here tonight.”

“Why Cosimo, how could you even hint at such a thing? Beatrice’s mother simply cannot throw a boring gala. That is not allowed. As one of the leading families in the Empire, I’m certain it is the height of entertainment. It must be your simple mind that can’t fathom such lofty performances.” She motioned to the pantomime troupe monopolizing the dance floor below us.

They looked like mimes playing charades with stiffly choreographed movements within their own group. I knew enough ‘modern’ performance art to know that it was the height of fashion, but I could not take the performance seriously. The individuals in the troupe were fit and fluid, moving easily within their play, but the whole lacked any emotional connection for me. I said as much.

“Gods, yes,” Samantha Dennison agreed. “I’d rather see the ballet or even a good cabaret scene than this excrement,” she opined.

I nodded.

She gave me a sideways look. “That was a perfect opening for you to invite me to see one or the other next week,” she said.

I turned to face her. She was a small woman, but perfectly proportioned and attractive. Her head came to just above my shoulder, but her posture and carriage made her seem to be my match. Her self-confidence belied her size. She had dark hair with lighter highlights styled into a delightful cascade of loose curls gathered over one shoulder. Her high cheekbones and rounded nose were a perfect canvas for her full red lips and warm light eyes. She was very attractive, witty, and smart. Of course, she was an aristocrat and all that entailed, which would make my grandmother happy. Her family interests were mostly in the south of the continent, with vast agricultural holdings. Her eldest brother was being groomed to be a senator while her older sisters were being married to other aristocratic and high guilder lines. I wondered if she had chosen me or been launched my direction, given the nature of the social season here in Cardino.

“If only the ballet was performing here next week, I’d be honored to ask to escort you. Alas,” I said dramatically, “there is no performance scheduled.”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I’ve heard there is to be a dancing exhibition at the club next week. Perhaps that would suit us better than a long ballet.”

I laughed. “My apologies, madame, but I work at that club and can think of better places to spend my off time, no matter how nice the atmosphere or company might be.”

She frowned. I was sorry to hurt her feelings so rushed ahead. “However, I happen to know of a private performance that troupe will have before their scheduled show, if you would care to watch with myself and my grandmother.”

She smiled. “I think I would enjoy that,” she said. “When and where is this private performance?”

“It’s in a private residence, near the club. We can have an early dinner or late lunch afterwards if that suits you.”

She nodded. “My aunt will be wanting to accompany me,” she said as she glanced down to the main floor and spotted her chaperone who had been escorting her to all the balls this season. “Will that be a problem?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. I’ll send you a card to confirm the details.”

She smiled and raised her hand for me to hold and raise to my lips for the briefest of kisses.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Cosimo.”

I felt a shiver in my spine as she locked eyes with me, holding my gaze for a moment, and then turned away.

The social season that made Cardino the place for aristocrats and high-guilders to see and be seen each year ran for six ten-days spanning the last week of spring and the first half of summer. It had been running for about half of its allotted time, and I was more than ready for it to be over. I could play the role my grandmother desired, but I was hardly enamored with it. The season had started with several formal grand balls, then segued into a series of dinners hosted by the upper crust of imperial and local society. Of course, young people being what we were, the club had been doing a tremendous after-dinner business with its wide variety of entertainments. Since ‘the Grande dame’ insisted I attend a minimum of four social engagements each ten-day, I had reduced my classes at the collegium and worked several double shifts managing at the club. Seeing debutantes pretending to be of the highest class at dinner followed by a drunken display hours later at the club had made me more than a little jaded.

I was happy that I could not recall seeing Samantha Dennison in such a state. Of the hundreds of eligible women, I had been maneuvered into spending time with, she was the first that had approached me so subtly, and she had done it herself rather than go through her aunt or my grandmother. Samantha would be one to watch, I decided.

My thoughts were interrupted by applause as the troupe finished their routine. I joined in, glad the debacle was over. I could now make my way back downstairs, thank our hostess and host, and make good my departure. Grandmother had insisted I stay until the entertainment had finished. I had met my obligation to her, and soon completed my false thanks for the wonderful show to meet my social obligation as well. I was turning toward the front hall when a stranger bumped into me.

I felt fingers deftly dance on my lapel and looked at the man closely even as he mumbled an apology and turned away, hurrying before me toward the door. I straightened my jacket, ensuring the small envelope he had deposited was well down inside my pocket, and then followed him at a more sedate pace.

I seemed to have gained another obligation for the evening.

I mingled in the crowd leaving the Armitage’s palazzo, smiling at some of the descriptions of the troupe’s performance. Underwhelming was the kindest phrase I heard. Since much of the crowd was moving toward the club, I followed in the wake, keeping an eye out for the man who had performed the brush pass, as well as anyone else who might have too keen of an interest in me. I knew better than to finger the envelope or draw attention to my pocket.

If this was a message for my grandmother, there were easier ways to get it to her, unless whoever was sending it was concerned that someone else might see the passing. I could not imagine it was a message for me. Deciding discretion was needed, I spotted an acquaintance ahead of me and moved closer.

“Emory,” I said with false joviality as I moved beside him. “Are you off to the club?”

Emory West was one of the mongrel offspring of the aristocracy. His mother had been a high guilder who managed to trip the third son of the West family and land under him during the social season twenty years ago. To avoid any scandalous talk, the son had agreed Emory could use the family name, but he refused to take Emory’s mother as a wife. Gossip said she was fine maintaining her father’s holdings so long as her son had the privileges of the aristocrats. So, while Emory used his father’s name to advance socially, the money affording his privileges came from his mother. He was bright enough to understand that charm and wit could land him in the real aristocracy, so played well with the other socialites on the party circuit. He had spotted me working after we had met at several of the early galas and dinners, and approached to learn I was ‘learning the family business’ as my grandmother had planned. He had not made the connection to a hidden house, but I suspect he was the reason why a few of the ladies had.

“Cosimo, where were you during that atrocious dance-thing?”

I could smell the strong liquor on his breath.

“I was doing the rounds and waiting until it wouldn’t be rude to make my escape. I’d hate for Beatrice to think I didn’t appreciate the high art her mother arranged.”

Emory laughed. “Atonal music and mimes, is not high art,” he said. “Unless you have plenty of poppers in your system. I need to go to the club and have some real entertainment to wash the thought of that show out of my mind.”

“What are you up for this evening?” I asked. We were almost to the entrance of the club. I would be able to slip away once I steered him in the right direction.

“I’ve heard there’s a card game that started after breakfast. I thought I might see if they have an opening.”

I nodded. “I heard about it. They started in the red wing but moved to green to get some fresh blood in the game.”

We were both aware of the aristo’s habit of moving to easier access sections of the club to be able to pull in high guilders who were willing to show some aristos how the various games of chance were supposed to be played.

“That sounds like just what I’m looking for. Are you in?” he asked as we entered the club.

“I need to check on something for the manager. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”

Before he could protest, I peeled off and went to the door next to the manager’s desk. It opened for me, and I closed it quickly to prevent anyone from trying to follow. A couple of turns and I was into the staff stairwell and heading down. The Cardino club was different than most of our modern buildings. It had grown over time, being connected when adjacent buildings were acquired or external terraces were added, so it looked more like several adjacent normal buildings in the old style. However, the club’s infrastructure was kept up to our modern standards. Until you got to the sub-basement.

I opened another locked door, one that most staff could not access, and stepped into the oldest tunnels in the city. Down here, the air was cool and damp. The modern locks contrasted with the thick metal bars that segmented the passage. I moved through the labyrinth with ease. A few minutes later, I opened a nondescript door, like a dozen others I had passed, and then used the biometric lock to open a much more modern security door.

A few guards were in the breakroom and waved at me as I headed deeper inside my grandmother’s home. If anyone was trying to follow me, they would hit more than a dead end with our internal security.

Grandmother and Devon were in her home office when I knocked and opened the door. She smiled at me and motioned me in.

“How was the newest dancing performance tonight?” she asked with a smile.

I was surprised. I was certain the note passed to me would be her priority. “It was atrocious,” I said, suddenly wondering if she was not anticipating a covert note. “Is that why you wanted me to stay, to broaden my cultural horizons?”

She waved me toward a chair. “Yes, Annalise Armitage has been pestering the club to host such shows. I wanted a first-hand review from someone not approaching their second century. Tell me what you thought, and then you can fill me in on Miss Samantha Dennison,” she added with a smile.

Of course, she knew what eligible woman had approached me.

“The show was crap. I did not find it entertaining or engaging to watch. While the performers may be at the top of their craft, the overall show lacked compelling music or a physical narrative. Most of the attendees watched only to be polite. I noticed significantly more quiet conversation among the attendees during the performance than I did at any other point of the evening. It was not worth whatever Madam Armitage spent to have them perform.”

Grandmother nodded and then glanced at Devon. He smiled. “I told you it was not to my liking,” he added.

I had not seen him at during the evening, but his shadowing me was not something new. I knew grandmother kept his and other eyes on me at these events. I acted as if I was always being observed, even if I was not formally chaperoned, as many of the young ladies were. Our cultural double standard was glaring during the season. Proper, eligible young men and women were chaperoned during the balls, events, and dinners, but could often be seen entering the bars and clubs of town without any supervision shortly after returning their chaperone home. Of course, the seasonal parties were more than the younger generation cutting loose. Maybe that was the distinction. Those events were to shape the future of houses, not just overindulge or screw someone new.

“As for Samantha Dennison,” I continued. “You can form your own opinion when she joins us for the preview of the club’s new dance troupe next ten-day. I invited her to join us.”

Grandmother beamed. I could tell it was not her genteel, polite smile. For some reason she was genuinely happy that I had invited Miss Dennison to visit. I filed that away to think about later.

“I’m surprised you are interested in her, more than the other message I received this evening,” I said as I pulled the envelope from my pocket.

Grandmother’s face fell when she saw the matte black envelope slightly smaller than my palm. She reached for it, but I held it tightly.

“You look surprised,” I commented. “I presume this isn’t the reason you asked that I stay until after the show?”

“No,” she answered tersely. “What is it?”

I opened the small envelope and read quickly, then handed it over.

“Someone’s looking for where a consignment of CIs was sent,” she said. “Why would they warn you? Why would they thank you for a tip?”

Devon took the note and envelope, examining both closely. “What did the person who passed this to you look like?”

“I didn’t get a close look. It was a fit man, dark hair, and weather-worn complexion. They struck me as low guilder trying to pass as a high guilder. Their clothes were nice, but not really suited for the Armitage’s ball. I only saw him for a second, and even then, I was more worried he was a pickpocket. Once I realized he was putting something in my pocket rather than trying to take something out, he was turned away and moving fast.” I thought about the brief encounter. “He timed it well, bumping me just as I turned from someone. We were both near the door, so it did not look out of place for us to both head for it at the same time.”

“Why wouldn’t they sign the note?” Devon asked. “It would build credibility, if nothing else.”

“Maybe they didn’t want a trail back to them, if it was compromised. The only shipment I had anything to do with was the one that brought be me to Cardino. If that is what someone is interested in, I can see why they would be cautious.”

Grandmother nodded. “It also hints that our net did not capture everyone threatening the Empire.” She sat back and steepled her fingers, tapping them against one another for a moment as she thought.

“We need to find the messenger, if we can. We need to know that the warning was not meant to force us into action and expose something.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know why someone searching for those particular CIs would try a covert warning to bring their location to light. This feels like a warning that could not come through normal club channels. If someone was leaning on Samhir, he would have sent word directly.”

“I can have him come for a visit,” Grandmother said. “We need to know if this is real.”

“You’re assuming it came from San Mateo. If we don’t know the messenger, we can’t assume that.”

She nodded, then glanced at Devon. “Any idea of where that man might have disappeared to?” she asked.

“If he was planning on getting out of town without being obvious, the trains are the only way at this time of night. There is an express heading to the Capital that leaves at midnight.”

“Surely he won’t just wait at the station for three hours,” Grandmother said.

“No, there are several pubs and bars near the station that most late-night travelers frequent,” Devon said. “If this person was trying to pass as a high guilder to plant the note, he likely is dressing down to avoid any aristo or high guilder eyes until he leaves the city. I’d be surprised if he tried to pass as a plebe, but I could check the plebeian bars as well if needed.”

“I’ll get changed and join you,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize him, regardless of who he is trying to pass as.”

Devon started to protest, but Grandmother stopped him with a raised hand. “Who taught you to blend in across classes?” she asked him. Before he could answer, her gaze returned to me. “Do you think his father taught him less well than you? Cosimo lived in the different classes for years. He did not just visit them. Change quickly and find this man.”

We both nodded and left her office.

It took me a handful of minutes to reach my apartments and pull out a travel trunk I had stored. Old clothes still fit and had just enough wrinkles and wear to look ‘lived in’ rather than being a costume. Father had explained blending in and had me practice over the course of years. Mannerisms learned when living as a different class had to be practiced even after we moved on. It was not just a look, but an attitude as well. Plebes carried themselves differently than guilders. High guilders had enough arrogance to almost pass as aristos, but low guilders knew in their bones that not rocking the boat was a safer path to prosperity. It affected the way they acted, spoke, and interacted with upper and lower classes. I reminded myself of the many lessons I had learned as I changed my appearance. Shortly, I was back in the piazza, waiting on Devon.

He did a double take when he saw me slouching against the doorway to the plaza and street. “What do I call you, dressed like that?” he asked.

Good. He knew father’s lessons as well. When you want to blend in, don’t let yourself or others think of the ‘real’ you. “Call me r’Co,” I said, adding the rolling ‘R” to the beginning of my name. When we had lived as low guilders, my name had been shortened to ‘Co’ for outside friends and acquaintances. Adding the ‘R’ would tell others I was a grown, independent man now, no longer living at home. Family names would not be used in public.

“I’m r’Dale,” he replied with a nod. We left, moving quickly without appearing hurried as we headed for the area around the station. It was not far but was mostly a winding uphill path crossing more gentle streets that took a longer route. We were both in good enough shape to not be noticeably affected by the pace.

The street before the station was lined with bars, restaurants, and accommodations for different classes of travelers. The places catering to plebes were closest to the station, so we would look at them last. There were only two places for high guilder’s; a fancy restaurant that was closing as late-night diners finished a meal before heading to the train, and a more raucous bar next door to it. I motioned r’Dale to skip it. I had a feeling whomever the man was, he was done trying to pass as a high guilder for the night.

There were three pubs catering to low guilders, each having a different style of service and entertainment. We stepped into the first and I slipped fully into character as I bobbed my head to the heavy beat of the music being played. It was obviously a dance club with a very energetic audience and crowd. I saw only limited places for a single person to sit and avoid attention, and quickly dismissed the place. r’Dale needed to still scan faces closely, but I knew our quarry was not here.

The second bar was quieter, featuring a stage with live performers. The men and women putting on the show were scantily dressed, and more than a little amorous with their fellow performers and members of the crowd. This was the sort of place someone looking to hide could easily disappear in. r’Dale seemed to know at least one bartender here and went to have a chat. I circled the room, keeping one eye on the performance and another on the crowd.

If our man had availed himself of a room or some companionship before his train, we would have to stake out the station, but for some reason I did not think that’s what they had done. I was starting a second circuit when r’Dale clapped me on the shoulder and shook his head slightly. We headed out.

The last bar was right next to one of the plebe pubs. We casually strolled in and split up. Again, r’Dale seemed to be known here. I pretended to scan for the restrooms when I spotted our man. He was sitting in a small corner booth, nursing a mug of something, and watching a veiled dancer on the stage. I slowly made my way toward him, spending as much time watching the girl perform as I did him. By the time I was at his booth, I knew he was not avoiding being found. He had none of the nervous habits a person on the run exhibited.

I sat down across from him and smiled when his eyes recognized my face.

“Sir,” he said softly.

I stopped him with a hand. “I’m just r’Co here.”

I waved at the server and held up two fingers and motioned at his mug. “Let me buy you a drink,” I said.

He gulped, took a long pull from his mug, and nodded. Each time he started to speak, I motioned for him to wait. r’Dale joined us with a drink in his hand as the server delivered two additional mugs. I took a sip of the hard cider, appreciating the crisp flavor before looking the man in the eye.

“My friend r’Dale and I almost didn’t recognize you. Can you tell us more about that note?” I asked just loud enough to reach his ears.

He glanced around, then nodded. “I got approached in San Mateo for a job. I’m a chaser. They were trying to find some folks that got grabbed by the judiciary. I’m not sure if they know the clubs bought them or not, but I always start my searches at the auction house in cases like this. I went to a friend who was on a transport detail that day. She sent me with that note, and told me to deliver it personally, and not get caught with it. She told me to come right back and then go search...”

I stopped him. “No need for where your chase leads you next. Was your friend in charge of the transport team?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Are you looking for the full lot or someone in particular?” I asked.

“The customer wanted the lots and disposition if available. I only got the court lot numbers, so don’t know how many separate groups those were broken up into.” He took a sip of his drink. “I got the feeling there might be a follow-on job after they got that info, but I can’t be sure of that. Usually folks want an individual, so I guess I assumed they would want to send me back out or send their own folks along to settle the matter.”

“Settle the matter?” r’Dale asked.

The man licked his lips. “I’m a chaser. I find people. Sometimes its indents who’ve run. Sometimes it’s thieves. Sometimes, it’s kids or wives or husbands that have run away. I make it clear that the finding is not retrieval or return. If they want that, it’s a separate job and I know it’s much riskier to me, so I charge accordingly. The firm that hired me knows that. They don’t like to commit money upfront for a retrieval.”

I frowned. I had heard of a chaser, but always associated them with chasing thieves. The club did not have any indentured who ran. At least not that I had heard about.

“So why did you take this side trip to deliver a message?” I asked.

“I owe our friend for some favors in the past. I know some of the judiciary lots came here. That’s enough for my report, but for her sake, I’ll make this the last entry in my report, not my first. San Mateo’ club grabbed a lot of them, so I’ll chase all those down before writing that report, too.”

“How long?” r’Dale asked.

He shrugged. “A couple of ten-days, at least. It could be longer, depending how many got farmed out. I think only sixteen are still in San Mateo now, so I could have a bit of travel to locate them all. Either way, I owe my customer an update by month end, if I want to get paid.”

“How much are you getting for this job?”

“Four Imperials a month. Double that if I’m done by end of this month, so two ten-day is about as far as I’m willing to delay.”

I pulled a five Imperial coin from my pocket, and placed it on the table, giving him a brief glimpse of gold before covering it with my hand. “Turn in the report on the last day of the month,” I said as I looked him in the eye.

He glanced at my palm, then nodded. “Fair’s fair,” he said, “And I do owe our friend.”

I nodded and slid my hand across the table, palming the heavy coin and turning to shake his hand as I rose. When I brought my hand back by my side, he deftly made the coin disappear. Even if someone was watching us, I doubt they could have seen the pass. I had felt him take the coin and did not know how he got it away unseen.

We made our way out of the bar and were soon headed back into the heart of town, but by a circuitous route, doubling back for a snack at a street vendor and ducking into a local’s pub for a drink before heading down to the wharf area near the club. We kept our conversation in character, muttering comments about the higher-class ladies being escorted about, flirting with a few working girls, and generally blending in. We did not slip into the shadowed entrance of the club delivery dock until well after the train had left the city. Once inside, we both made our way through the secret tunnels and back to grandmother’s home.

“Well?” Grandmother demanded as soon as we were back in her office.

“A chaser, looking for all the judiciary lots from the trial,” I said. “The escort leader sent the note to warn me. The chaser won’t report back until the end of the month. He was hired by a firm in San Mateo, to locate them all, not any one specifically,” I said.

“So, we don’t know who is doing the looking?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not from him. But we can start tracing back from the firm that hired him,” Devon said, still in his r’Dale outfit, but sounding like an aristocrat born and bred.

Grandmother nodded. “We need to know who they are looking for specifically, and why. Then we can determine what sort of risk we need be concerned about.”

“And who we missed,” I added, causing her to look up sharply. “Everyone who should have cared about those judiciary lots should have been included in the arrests. If we missed someone, they may be looking for the ones that were nabbed to ensure their silence. We need to turn the hunter into the hunted to see if further action is required.”

Grandmother glanced at us both, then nodded.

“Cosimo, organize your thoughts. We’ll discuss them at breakfast. I may have you off shift for a couple of days until we get this organized. I still want to hear about Miss Dennison.”


“Thank you so much for the invitation to see this troupe, Cosimo,” Samantha Dennison said as she held my arm while walking inside from the piazza toward the dining room where Grandmother was hosting a small luncheon for the troupe and my guests.

“It was my pleasure. You really enjoyed their performance?” I asked.

“Yes, they were wonderful. I’ve been a fan of dance since I was little. I used to dream of being a dancer. Their mixture of solo ballet and duets with traditional and modern dance was wonderful.”

I smiled. She had the lithe build to be a dancer, with graceful movements and precise posture and carriage. “I could imagine you performing with them,” I said.

She smiled at me. “I’d look out of place with them, but I would love to dance with you some evening,” she said with a blush.

“We’ll have to see if that can be arranged at some ball before the season ends,” I said. We entered the dining room. Grandmother and Samantha’s Aunt Louise were waiting for us, sharing a small smile between themselves. Seven was there in a fitted gray top and skirt, holding a tray of drinks. She deftly offered us each a glass.

“Come in, and join us,” Grandmother said as she moved toward the windows overlooking the bay. “The troupe is just freshening up before they’ll be here as well. What did you think of the performance, Samantha?”

“I loved it. I may have to go see them at the club just to see their full performance, even if Cosimo won’t take me.”

Grandmother gave me a small frown. “Cosimo, you would deny this lovely lady the pleasure of your company at our own club?”

I smiled, even if it felt forced. “Do you mean the club I’ll be working at for six hours before their show and again eight hours after they perform? While I’d be enchanted to escort Samantha many places, staying at work would not be my preferred venue to spend time with her.”

Her aunt frowned. Was she looking down on me for working, or worried I would take her niece someplace inappropriate? “Just where else would you take her?” she finally managed to ask.

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