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Twenty-Five

Seneschal Zhu Irzh's second cousin twice removed was a terrible hypochondriac. Usually, this was not a characteristic that Zhu Irzh found endearing and, moreover, the cousin was a meager little person, with lank, gray hair and a permanent sniff, completely lacking in anything resembling feminine charm. She was, however, on first name terms with practically every apothecary and remedy-maker in Hell, and Zhu Irzh was confident that someone, somewhere, would have contacts in the Ministry of Epidemics. Such contacts were needed. Hell's health-care system being what it was, the waiting list for appointments at the Ministry reached practically to infinity and Zhu Irzh needed to get through its iron doors that day. As soon as he could, therefore, he collected a bunch of herbs (morning glory, purging croton and blackberry lily) and a box of blood candies, and went to pay a visit to his neglected relative.

He found his cousin sitting in an armchair, gazing beadily out at the events in the street beyond. As he stepped through the door, however, she collapsed into a huddle beneath a blanket, and emitted a faint, but convincing, moan.

"I thought you might be a touch poorly, so I've brought you these," Zhu Irzh said, trying to sound sympathetic.

His cousin opened a small, red eye and inspected the presents. She poked the candies suspiciously. "These look musty. Where did you get them? Tso's?"

"No, I purchased them in another fine emporium," Zhu Irzh said loudly, as the cousin was genuinely somewhat deaf. "Near the Opera House."

"The where?"

"The Opera House!" Zhu Irzh shouted into her ear. The cousin sniffed, and her small bony hands tightened around the bundle of herbs.

"And these are all wilted. What did you do, sit on them?"

"They were fine when I bought them," Zhu Irzh said, bridling. "It's not my fault if it's a trifle warm outside. I'll put them in a vase for you. Anyway, how are you feeling?" He tried not to sound too apprehensive as he spoke these last words. He had a feeling he was about to be told.

Half an hour later, his cousin finally came to the end of a long list of ailments, some of them involving rather more personal information than Zhu Irzh wished to hear. The litany did, however, seem to mollify his cousin to some degree, and she even ventured a wintry smile. Beaming back, Zhu Irzh embarked upon a careful round of questions and arrived at a list of some eight medical practitioners who enjoyed a close working relationship with the Ministry of Epidemics. Armed with this list, he accepted a small and nasty cup of herbal tea and then departed, with protestations that he would come again soon. He got the impression that he left his cousin happier than when he had arrived, a consequence that disturbed him. Zhu Irzh was suspicious of good deeds.

The first two practitioners on the list were out. The third was in, but a queue of scowling, suffering citizens extended through the door and Zhu Irzh had no desire to spend another hour like the previous one, treated to a recitation of suffering. He thus proceeded to the fourth practitioner, a handsome establishment in the Shadow District, with a facade that was almost concealed behind a vast array of charms and testimonials. Stepping through the double doors, Zhu Irzh found himself in a wide and well-appointed hallway.

"Good morning," said a voice. Zhu Irzh turned to see a young woman swathed in a coral robe. She smiled, displaying small, white teeth. Her eyes were a startling, but vapid, blue.

"Excuse me," Zhu Irzh said, not quite believing the evidence of his own eyes. "But aren't you human?"

The girl gave a vacant giggle, and did not reply. Then her face ironed itself out to perfect blankness once more, and she said as if by rote, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't." Zhu Irzh reached for his badge.

"One moment. I will ask if the doctor can see you," the girl said. She glided around the edge of the desk and spoke rapidly into a gilded trumpet. Zhu Irzh studied her, narrow-eyed. The girl was definitely human, and a Westerner. She was even alive: he could smell her blood, her breath, hear the faint crack of her bones inside her skin. What she was doing here, however, remained a mystery.

"The doctor will see you now," the receptionist murmured, with a glazed smile. Zhu Irzh bowed in response, and stepped through the door.

The man inside looked up as Zhu Irzh came in. He, at least, was indigenous: an immensely stout person, whose crimson eyes were almost buried in the fleshy folds of his face. He displayed sharp teeth in a welcoming grin.

"I am Dr So. And you are a seneschal, yes? From the Vice Division? I have excellent relations with Supreme Seneschal Yhu, you know. We have a little poker session every Friday night."

"Poker?"

"A human game. From the West. Most stimulating."

Zhu Irzh tried not to show his dismay that Dr So knew his superior. Since he wasn't actually working for the Vice Division on this particular case, but was under the aegis of the First Lord of Banking, complications might ensue. Still, thought Zhu Irzh with a return to his usual insouciance, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Talking of humans," he said, "that's a charming receptionist you have working for you."

"You like her?" Dr So beamed. "Well, I'll let you into a little secret. She's not the only human I have working for me. She's really only one of my girls. If you are interested in getting to know any of them better, I'm sure we could come to some arrangement. . ."

"That would be delightful," Zhu Irzh said, somewhat insincerely. "Might I ask how they came to be in your employ?"

Dr So tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secret, I'm afraid. But you just let me know and I'll see what I can do. Now. What else can I help you with?"

"Well, it's like this," Zhu Irzh said. The pursuit of the medical practitioners on his cousin's list had given him some considerable time to come up with an appropriate cover story, and he was eager to try it out. Glancing towards the door, he said, "You do appreciate, I'm sure, that this is a matter of some delicacy, and I really would be most grateful if it went no further. . ."

"Of course," Dr So said, adopting an expression that was evidently meant to convey sympathy and interest, but which succeeded only in revealing the acquisitiveness beneath.

"There is a young lady, you understand," Zhu Irzh began with careful hesitancy, "of my acquaintance, who has something of a little problem."

"A common occurrence, alas."

"Indeed. I'm sure that a man of your experience and understanding will comprehend the often—restricted—lives that women of high breeding are compelled to endure, especially those of families attached to the Court. And I'm sure you understand also the temptations to which boredom can so often lead."

"I confront them every day."

"I knew you'd have a firm grip on the issues involved. In this case, the young lady has allowed herself to become—let's say, over-familiar—with a particular narcotic. One that is, unfortunately, in somewhat short supply."

Dr So's carefully manicured eyebrows crept up the lunar expanse of his countenance, like caterpillars. He said, "To what narcotic would you be referring?"

"Soma ore."

"I see. Yes, that is a problem. Ordinarily, one rarely sees cases of soma addiction—it's a drug that is far beyond even my own price range. But for someone attached to the Court—yes, I can see how she might have become exposed to it. And it doesn't take long to become addicted, they say."

"The young lady doesn't want to go through the regular supplier, for the very good reason that she purloined the initial sample from someone who had best remain nameless, and is worried about the consequences of that. However, happily for her, she is quite extravagantly wealthy and therefore well able to afford the actual narcotic—it's actually obtaining it that is proving so problematic. She tells me that the source lies within the Ministry of Epidemics, and I have it on good authority that you have contacts there. I need to get in there today—you know how hard it is to obtain an appointment with someone, but once through the door, I can achieve my goal with relatively little trouble. If you would be so kind as to put me in touch with one of those contacts, I would of course ensure that your help did not go unrecognized."

"That is perfectly understandable. Indeed, I would be willing—perhaps—to function as purveyor to the lady in question, if she so chose. But it will take time."

"That won't be necessary," Zhu Irzh said quickly. The object of the exercise was to get into the Ministry himself, after all. "She's really quite desperate. And due to her somewhat debilitated condition, I am the only one whom she trusts. Misguided, but you know what addicts are like . . ."

"Mmm. Well, I can certainly put you in touch with a couple of people. We would need to discuss the matter of recompense, of course."

"Perhaps you could jot down a few thoughts on that, and let me have them," Zhu Irzh suggested. His smile widening, Dr So scribbled a sum on a flimsy fragment of skin and passed it across the desk. Zhu Irzh was careful not to let his mouth hang open, and he had to remind himself that the First Lord of Banking was covering his expenses. Instead, he said, "That seems quite reasonable. I'll speak to the young lady today and arrange a payment. Through a suitably circuitous route, of course."

"I'll need a promissory note from you, first."

"Naturally," Zhu Irzh said.

He parted from Dr So with two names in his pocket and a certain apprehension as to what the First Lord of Banking would say when presented with the bill. Still, Zhu Irzh told himself, if he wants to know what's going on, he'll have to shell out for it. Information was, as everyone knew, the world's biggest money-spinner these days. He smiled at the receptionist as he left, but she was busy filing her nails and did not look up. It was only after he stepped through the door that Zhu Irzh realized she'd had nothing in her hands.

 

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Framed