[b]From the Journal of Lawrence Birch, Representative of the Federated States of Alleghany[/b]

The Red Horse was a large brick building with a sloping pitch roof, much like the buildings of old Alleghian farming villages, and a sign over the front door that bore the eponymous horse. According to Louie, it was the most celebrated coffee-house in the city, where everybody from revolutionaries to soldiers and governors would meet to chat, to plot, to gossip and trade. Anything that happened in Colongo City, the chances were it originated here, on Fifteenth Street.

Not that Fifteenth Street itself was at all prepossessing. Little more than a river of mud, it slowed our cab's pace as we approached the tavern, being sure not to splash any of the groups of gentlemen who stood outside, leaning on canes and chattering intently. Avoiding carts and giving curt nods to trucks bursting with soldiers, we reached a low, wooden stables building where we left the car, then made our way carefully across the streams of muck to the tavern. Inside, we immediately became acquainted with the owners: Marie Wholestone, who was (without wishing to be ungentlemanly), a little on the large side; and Benjamin Douglass, whose first words I heard upon entering were, “Kiss my arse, ya wench!”

Fortunately, he wasn’t talking either to me or to Louie, but to Marie. When the two of them saw us, their demeanours instantly changed from warlike to servile and they saw to it that my bags were taken up to my room. Louie was right: Edward Williams was already there, and in a room upstairs we were introduced. An older man, similarly attired to Louie but with a certain weariness to him, an experience that was etched into the lines on his face, he stood from studying maps to shake my hand. “A pleasure,” he said, and then, as Louie left to stand guard, leaned forward and said to me, “A good lad, if a bit earnest.”

I kept any feelings I had on the boy to myself, indicating with my eyes that he should continue. “I’m told you’re putting together an expedition,” he said.

“We believe there is a way to quell our fears of a Congolese invasion,” I said, choosing my words carefully, then
adding, “I require your knowledge of the land and its people to help.”

He pulled a face. “Sadly, a chest containing my research has been stolen. Without it, I’m of no use to you.”

I knew from experience that nothing was ever easy. “Then we’ll find it.” I sighed. “Have you any
leads?”

“My associate, George Rouille, has been making the rounds. He’s quite good at loosening tongues.”

“Tell me where I can find him and I’ll see about speeding things along.”

“We’ve heard rumours of bandits operating from a compound south-west of here,” said Edward. “You’ll likely find him there. Meanwhile, I'll get to work on contacting some Ereatian officials."