Ziggy’s visit. Happy, painted amor. Uncertain spy work. Unwanted Gorbins and the Pontra’s scheming.

Surprise, surprise, the royal Yaniri governor, Craig Clifton Zigglesworth, arrived a little after ten in the morning of the next day to see the grand opening of the café, which gave Sal a full house of customers. Colonel Jim, Bob, and the rest of the governor’s guard filled the tables, and Sal even called Theo from his sign work to help get everyone all the food they could want.

Instead of the white and black masquerade outfits that Ziggy and his governor wore before, this time, they were all dressed up in all manner of colorful clownery. Ziggy, himself, was a harlequin, with a pancake-powder white face, painted on black lips, and a bright red nose. A single blue tear was painted just below his right eye. The rest of his outfit was pure clownishness, including a huge red tie and overly large red shoes.

His guard wore big puffy pants below their breastplates. Bright primary colors decorated their armor, though every picture appeared as if it had been drawn by a child. There were a great many happy faces, rainbows, and stick figures. The governor’s carriage drivers had puffy clothes as well, blouses with abnormally large collars and sleeves. Their faces were painted with powder and color as well.

And so, on his second day in operation, with the smells of breakfast cooking filling the air, Sal fed clowns.

Ziggy sat at a table by himself as everyone ate with gusto. It was simple eggs, pancakes, sausages, and the fruit, though they all commented on the orange juice, and several of the men drank the sweet lemonease.

The governor called him over. “This is all good and well, though I must say, Mr. Sal Fang, I am a tad—just a tad—my finger and thumb held this close to convey the tad disappointment I am feeling. You bought those dough rings from Madame Benyay. I know those lemon rings. I know them too well! Isn’t that cheating? It feels like cheating. Shouldn’t you cook all of your own food?”

Sal only shrugged. “Madame Benyay has a certain magic to her, doubtless. I do have plans on expanding the menu. Have you heard of gnocchi?”

“Gnocchi! Oh yes, it’s a Scallia Capran dish, a kind of potato dumpling, or it is pasta? It might be a little both. Oh, right, ricotta cheese is involved in some creamy way. I do like it in a creamy sauce with parmesan cheese, or is the cheese in the cream sauce? I can’t remember. I’ve also had it with pesto. Now, pesto is a joy!”

Sal didn’t know what pesto was, but he liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

New customers came in, including a repeat customer from the day before, and they had to open up the ancillary dining area.

Suddenly, it was a full-on rush, and Sal had to hurry off.

The governor paid for his men, but before he left, he pulled Sal in close. Ziggy had drenched himself in cologne, and it was a bit much. The man whispered into his ear. “Mr. Sal Fang, you have a start here, but remember, you owe me a favor. Let’s not forget that, shall we?”

“How could I?” Sal tried to ease himself back, though the governor had other ideas.

The governor smiled a bit too broadly. His teeth looked a tad yellow compared to his pancake white face. “You did not comment on my outfit, Sal Fang. Why? Is it too much? I wanted something jovial and jaunty to celebrate your very middling breakfast eatery. All the world is a circus, full of clowns, some happy, some sad, but all painted up and pretty. Who wrote that?”

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“Verily, I do believe you just said it.”

“Verily!” the clownish man tittered. “Now, for my favor. I need you to keep your ears and eyes open. This is not spying, only it might be spying, just a smidge of spying, a little sprinkle of the old espionage. While some Gimm have found a bit of a foothold in our fair city at the North Wall, I have heard word that Gorbins are thinking about coming to Tower City. Let’s not forget that they tried to murder us all about a thousand years ago.”

That was mostly Kenny, Sal thought. He kept those words in his head. On his lips, he tried his best to defend the Skinless. “I do not believe the Gorbin are any more of a threat than the alarming number of elderly Primogeny in our fair city. Madame Benyay being one.”

“Oh, her ear hair, so much ear hair!” Ziggy gripped him harder. “If you see a Gorbin, you’ll tell me, right? You don’t have to come all the way to my mansion, no, just let Gail Questor know. She’s the—”

Sal stepped back, giving himself both space and a break from the cologne. “Yes, she handles entry into the Tower. I understand.” He understood, though he wasn’t about to report in on his former minions, not after all he’d learned about them.

Ziggy surged forward, as if playing a game of tag. “Sal Fang, that is not all. The Gorbin are one thing, the Church is another. Has the Pontrafax Genetrix come to call? Yes, I see on your face, she has, and she has her own retinue of the elderly, though they aren’t elves, but geriatric zealots. Is there a worse thing than geriatric zealots? Oh, how the mind grows rigid with age!”

“For some,” Sal said quietly.

Ziggy waved away those words. “Kizi Adamu is planning something, I know it. That Pontra, she wants everyone to call her Pontra Kizi, like she’s all friendly and such, but turn your back for a second, and in goes the dagger.” He leaned in close.

Sal got a fresh wave of cologne. “Notice her businesses up and down Tower Road? There’s a reason for that, you know.”

“Yes.” Sal found himself a bit disappointed that the priestess hadn’t requested he call her Pontra Kizi. It felt like a slight. Still, he decided to engage in a bit of gossip. “She made sure Champion Plaza was as cold and silent as a graveyard, and so, traffic walked directly by her church shops. And yet, she has failed to improve the grand cathedral. It has fallen into disrepair, and at the same time, she is requesting donations for the work, getting paid twice.”

A new understanding appeared on the governor’s face. “Diabolical! Sigh.” He actually said the word “sigh.” “And this is why the Church has fallen into such…such…muddy, muddy, muck, muck.”

Sal didn’t comment but thought of Fabrizio, and all the fine work he did.

Ziggy then waved at him. “Keep your ears and eyes open, for the—” he put a hand up to cover his mouth “you know what and you-know-who!”

He then took his men out of Sal’s diner, after paying way too much.

Sal waited for the message accusing him of accepting the bribe, though it seemed Sal’s mysterious benefactor saw it more as a tip, a little gratis for appreciation of the food.

Sal felt a bit stung that Ziggy had referred to his diner as a middling breakfast eatery. He needed to change that, and that meant expanding the menu. He was going to be very cautious because it meant investing more money and time for an uncertain return.

Sal had never liked criticism, though he hadn’t put villages to the sword because of it. People liked to complain—it was an eternal truth, and sometimes, they complained the loudest about the thing they liked the most.

Maybe it was good the governor thought his diner was mediocre. It meant he wouldn’t be coming by often. No one had any respect for the governor, and so Sal didn’t want to hitch his business donkey to that particular fashionable mule.

Customers came and went, and while there wasn’t the rush of the morning, there was some traffic, thanks to the free samples that Theo handed out on Tower Road. Once people sat down in the chilly café, free of the stink, they relaxed and were all smiles. There had to be forty-degree difference between the outside heat and the banshee chill.

Shivaun worked tirelessly in the kitchen, but during her breaks, she went down into the basement and iced up the floor, making sure the place was comfortable. That would draw the crowds, and if he had something special on the lunch menu? Only served after noon? That might make the difference.

And bacon. He had to secure his bacon connection.

In the end, however, the bacon came to him.