The Earl's Court was much more crowded than the Marquis had anticipated.

In every which way he turned in the cramped train car, there were people; some talking animatedly, others arguing ferociously, tugging on coats and fixing buttons and selling contraband and staring out the windows, or quieting an assortment of companion animals of various shapes and sizes, combing unruly locks, opening doors, shutting them, then opening them again to accommodate more pandemonium. Within the Marquis' view alone, there were a few Sewer people, two imperious Velvets, a rather dodgy looking eel draped around a short man's burly shoulders, several dozen rats and rat-speakers, a sizeable murder of crows, a gaggle of tar-encrusted geese and a small cluster of dwarf-like people huddling anxiously near the doors. As he attempted to make his way towards the front of the makeshift chamber, he quite carelessly jostled a tall woman wearing what he supposed might have been a fine mink coat, but appeared more to be a messy clump of matted fur about her broad shoulders.

"Excuse me," she hissed, passing a protective hand around the dirty fur. The Marquis smiled dazzlingly and drew his own coat about him more tightly.

"My fault entirely, madam. Please accept my humblest apologies"

The woman, who the Marquis thought was not quite a madam at all, tut-tutted and turned her back to him, briefly clearing a path through the melee to where the Earl himself sat, half asleep and most certainly drunk, on his throne. Taking the opportunity granted to him, the Marquis de Carabas slipped down the opening like a shadow and ascended the few steps towards the dozing Earl.

"Quite a different view from up here," He remarked casually. He suddenly felt the blunt end of a spear poke between his shoulder blades and, turning reluctantly, appraised an aged guard with a bored look.

"Get off the plinth, ye rabble," the guard rasped. The Marquis sighed and brushed the weapon away from his chest.

"I would hardly categorize myself as part of the rabble. In fact, I'm not sure I qualify as a member of any group at all"

Unrelenting, the guard repositioned his spear and bared his yellowed teeth in an elderly sneer.

"The Earl won't be seein' you now. Get in line," He gestured towards the mob with a free hand, "Or I'll run ya through with this here."

The Marquis observed the spear, then the man, and finally, the mob. Then, he let out a jovial chuckle and took a few strides over to where the Earl slept.

"Maybe you should reconsider a career path as a jester. You're even better than Tooley," As he spoke, the Marquis promptly kicked the Earl in each kneecap with his steel-toe boots. Equally as promptly, the Earl woke and screamed in pain.

"Well, it's about time." The Marquis folded his arms and waited for the theatrics to cease. After several minutes of piteous wailing, flailing and overall melodrama, the Earl's scrunched and reddened faced looked up into the twinkling eyes of the Marquis.

"You"

The Marquis de Carabas bowed low, draping his coat across his torso and hiding a triumphant grin. When he straightened, his face was more or less impassive, but for a small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, it is as you see. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

The Earl grunted and sat upright, wiping the purplish stains from the corners of his lips. "You are still not welcome here." He stated gruffly, fiddling with his robes. The Marquis took a stubborn stance and sighed as though he were speaking to a particularly fussy infant.

"Remind me, who was it that came to the rescue of the Lady Door in her hour of need?"

The Earl grunted again, "Not of your own volition."

"But I did"

"You repaid a debt; a debt that should not have been owed to you in the first place you cheating scoundrel."

For a moment, guilt crossed the Marquis' dark features. Then it was gone, and he was smiling again.

"Lord Portico was a good man, a fine man. He saved my life because he wanted to, I never asked. True, I protected his daughter because I don't like to owe any favours, but I also did it out of solidarity for the man himself."

The Earl scrutinized him, "No you didn't."

The Marquis deflated, "Touché."

Rising from his throne with a sigh, the Earl beckoned him towards the small train doors leading to the library in the next compartment. "Come on, it's too loud in here." The Marquis followed him. As the doors closed behind them, the hubbub from the crowd was drowned out under the sound of the tracks.

"What is it that you want, de Carabas?" The Earl said, plopping himself indelicately in a red armchair. He seemed at once very old and wise, as he had propped a large tome on his lap and was flicking through it nonchalantly as he awaited the Marquis' answer. The Marquis stepped forward and produced the letter from his coat pocket.

"I received this earlier today," He turned the paper over in the torchlight so the Earl could see the seal, "I'm sure you recognize the author."

The Earl squinted, then nodded sagely, "I would know the Montparlant seal anywhere. Helped us during the last fog, what with those clogged air vents and whatnot. The trains couldn't run for weeks," The Earl considered his reading before continuing. "A bit too chintzy a barony for my taste, but altogether a decent group" He paused suddenly and sat back in his chair. "What could they possibly want with you?"

The Marquis smiled and the letter disappeared back into his coat, "It's not they but whom. I have a particular connection that I rather wish I did not. Anyway, I'm not here to discuss how I know him, but rather how to get myself out of this situation entirely." From another pocket, the Marquis pulled a small satchel and held it at arm's length towards the Earl. "If you would give this to the Lady Door, I would be much obliged." The Earl seemed to consider this and stroked his beard with an air of contemplation. After a moment or so of deep thought, something the Marquis didn't think possible of him, the Earl's face broke into a smile.

"You deal in favours, yes de Carabas?"

The Marquis frowned slightly, "Yes, we've established this."

The Earl paused for dramatic effect, and stood. "Then I'd like a favour of you in return."

There are times in one's life when one must resort to being agreeable. The Marquis himself could think of many instances in which it was most beneficial to humor one's enemy, no matter how heinous their wishes. A little pleading or finagling can certainly be necessary in such situations, especially if one's foe happens to be much greater, stronger and smarter. However, as the Marquis looked on the Earl, he saw none of these qualities and decided that being agreeable was not a feasible option in his limited agenda.

And so, the Marquis de Carabas retracted the bag with a smile and responded quite curtly, "No."

The Earl's anger filled the room in a matter of seconds.

"And why ever not" he spat. The Marquis remained smiling despite the reddening of the old man's face and the pitiful crumpling of the pages in the book he was holding.

"I only deal in favours when it is of absolute importance. I would not have myself be indebted to you for a matter as simple as this."

"Then why didn't you just deliver that hideous bag to the Lady Door yourself?" The Earl was beginning to tear the pages now, their delicate make tumbling through the air in his fit of rage. The Marquis stepped back to avoid the onslaught.

"To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure where she is at the moment, and even if I did, I have reason to believe that I would not be able to reach her. Also I don't currently have the time to go looking for philanthropic little girls."

The Earl sobered up for a moment and looked at him questioningly, "What do you mean?"

"After the defeat of the angel Islington, she decided to continue her father's work in reuniting the Underside with London Above" His tone was steady, but the Marquis was quickly losing patience. He fiddled distractedly with the pages of a book on a nearby desk as he spoke, "Last I heard, she was in Camden."

"And how do you propose I find her if even you can't?"

The Marquis smiled, "You will, and you will do it for free because it's for the Lady Door, not me." He took the bag out again and dropped it in the Earl's lap.

"Fine. But I get to look inside." The Earl pouted like a child and tugged at the drawstrings of the bag. The Marquis shrugged and made for the door, disappearing back into the throng. Once he was well and properly gone, the Earl opened the bag and looked.

Then, he promptly gagged, tugged again on the drawstrings to close it, and vomited over the side of the chair.

Iago was standing over London Bridge, looking down onto the city. The sun was beginning to set, and he had yet to journey underground towards the market the following night. He muttered to himself, unintentionally ruffling his feathers as he rummaged through his bag.

Satisfied that all was there, he jumped gracefully from the bridge down to the streets, and disappeared into an alleyway.