The street noises had become quite loud, Baruk noted, as he leaned close to the map to paint the red tide's southern border. Construction work, he concluded, hearing the squeal of winches and a voice bellowing at passers-by. The sounds died away, then there came a loud crack!
Baruk jumped, his right forearm jerking out and knocking over the inkwell. The red ink poured across his map.
Cursing, Baruk sat back. His eyes widened as he watched the spreading stain cover Darujhistan and continue south to Catlin. He stepped down from the stool, reaching for a cloth to wipe his hands, more than a little shaken by what could easily be taken as an omen. He walked across the chamber to the window, bent forward and looked down.
A crew of workers was busy tearing up the street directly below. Two burly men swung picks while three others formed a line passing the shattered cobblestones to a growing pile on the pavement. The foreman stood nearby, his back to a wagon, studying a parchment scroll.
Baruk frowned. “Who's in charge of road maintenance?” he wondered aloud.
A soft knock diverted his attention. “Yes?”
His servant, Roald, took a single step into the room. “One of your agents has arrived, Lord.”
Baruk flicked a glance at the map table. “Have him wait a moment, Roald.”
“Yes, Lord.” The servant stepped back and closed the door.
The alchemist walked over to the table and rolled up the ruined map.
From the hallway came a 1"-ua voice- i6kkovieA'b-Y a murmur. Baruk slid the map on to a shelf and turned in time to see the agent enter, on his trail a xxx. Waving at Roald to leave, Baruk gazed down at the gaudily dressed man. “Good day, Kruppe.”
Roald stepped out and softly shut the door.
“More than good, Baruk, dear friend of Kruppe. Truly wonderful! Have you partaken of the morn's fresh air?”
Baruk glanced at the window. “Unfortunately,” he said,” the air outside my window has become rather dusty.”
Kruppe paused. His arms returned to his sides, then he reached into a sleeve and withdrew his handkerchief. He patted his brow. “Ah, yes, the road workers. Kruppe passed them on his way in. A rather belligerent lot, thinks Kruppe. Indeed, rude, but hardly exceptional for such menial labourers.”
Baruk gestured to a chair.
With a beatific smile Kruppe sat. “Such a hot day,” he said, eyeing the carafe of wine on the mantelpiece.
Ignoring this, Baruk strode to the window then turned his back to it.