The investigator had understood the thoughts racing through my head right now; He had them also. If the Spider was the one who had destroyed the King, the only people who would be able to challenge him fairly were the Elders—and we did not have the same laws that humans did. Murder was not so much a punishable offence as ‘inconvenient’ or my favourite, ‘inconsiderate.’

I stared at the cardboard boxes around the room; the phantasm had destroyed a few, but an old black and white photograph of Caine and I was hanging out of a shattered frame. We were grinning because we had a bet on whether our soulless nature would make it impossible for us to appear in a photograph—I had been betting against. Caine had won the ninety dollars; that was big money in those days.

I remember finding it funny when we got the prints later, because I had started to think that Caine did not know how to smile.

I rose and picked up the photo, staring at Caine’s ancient eyes.

“Inconsiderate of you to die, Sir.”

I remembered it as it the words from my journal described it, 1718, Mantua.

The maestro was creating life with his violin that made Prince Phillip sigh. I echoed the noise, no facetious implication. Antonio finished his concerto and the crowd rose, applauding so loudly that the floor shook.

The humble maestro bowed and took his gifts and praise.

I took my leave and stepped into the night air to let my excitement teeter off. I’d enjoyed and over-indulged myself with the Truthseeker and his kingdom of music. He was blind, yet those ears were the sharpest audience I’d yet encountered. He had invited the maestro seemingly on a whim and until tonight I’d not understood why. What an astounding maestro!

Our audience was entertained from the orchestra’s efforts and my tasks for the night were already concluded. I leaned against the outer balcony wall and struck a match, lighting my expensive tobacco neatly stuffing my pipe. The air was crisp and the night bit at my heels, giving my cheeks some flush.

“Jester,” The baritone belonged to the intimidating figure that was the King.

I jumped despite myself. He’d come out of the main hall like a ghost. I touched my chest, calming myself. I didn’t apologise for starting, a fool never apologises, and flashed him a smile, “Good evening, King.”

“I believe you have finished with the Truthseeker.”

I didn’t reply, merely inhaled a long lung of smoke and exhaled it into the night. He seemed almost nervous. It was rare to see an Elder in a state like that. I knew his reputation; the dour conqueror, the stiff-neck that he was. Puritan through and through. He would speak his peace in his own time. Elders were all alike.

“I’ve no tact with these things, and it’s a simple enough question. So I shall ask it,” He said, “Will you accept a new patron?”

“No pleasantries, just out with the question, what if I needed a warming up?” I teased.

His gaze narrowed, “I’ve not a wick of patience for you, Jester. I’ve been told there’s neigh lick of humour in my gut; but I see the need for your… misbehaving.”

“It seems only natural a King should need a Jester,” I conceded. I took off the long donkey mask I was wearing and smeared some of the makeup on my face with my knuckles, “And I am much acclaimed as he.”

He snorted, his Italian was impeccable but I could still taste that English on his character. The man might have come from the Roman armies or the great past, but the English saturates a man’s character. An arrogance, I supposed; one transported from the centuries of conquest and the Holy Empire’s ire. It was this character that allowed a gentleman such as he, to snort at a fop such as I, “Then tell me plainly.”

I wasn’t in the habit of speaking plainly and I scratched my chin, “I suppose plainly that I have no reason to say no.”

“But you are hesitating?”

“I am a man of habit and familiarity. You live in England, yes?”

“Worse, I ship out to the New Land in another month.”

My fingers itched. I had heard no end of tall tales about this continent and its splendour. A fine new feather in the Empire’s hat, they said.

He saw my look and tugged at his beard, “I am not saying that it is completely tamed yet; I heard that a young vampire died to the savage wilds last winter.”

The man clearly knew I craved a little more wilderness in my life, “Well we need to establish some clear boundaries.”