chapter five
Laen walked into the room like it was all terribly amusing, constrained though he was to feign gravity. He did his best to conceal his myriad, tickled fancies with strict adherence to the conventions of ceremony and diplomacy, yet his mirth escaped severally from seams seeming fit to burst. From the wide expanse of his welcoming smile to the exaggerated, sweeping arc of his invitation to be seated, it was clear that he'd rather be laughing. Actually, the strain of hiding his delight in the delicious irony brought on by this setting, these guests, a death and this life - this was the funniest part of all. The smile he offered his guests as they took their seats at this massive, ornate, field of a table in this massive, ornate, field of a room was nothing compared to the smile he offered himself - eyes downcast for only a moment - as he took his own massive, ornate, field of a seat. Such indulgence, however fleeting, was gravely inappropriate of course. Which tickled a particular fancy of his even more. Six eyes and not a dull one in the lot, he surmised, had no doubt already noted these tiny dead giveaways, even as they were now watching him like needles, waiting without prejudice for him to either speak or stumble. He sighed like a sated lover. One could sooner sheathe the sun.
Very well, let the games begin!
He had already spoken, although he couldn't remember what he'd said. Probably some such about welcome and graced presences. Presented graces. Presently graceful, he smiled and said, "Great pretenses." He paused for a beat of a sparrow's heart. Okay. "...Are for greater persons than my own, humble self. Dear guests, please forgive my impropriety. I am even yet schooling myself in the finer arts of my new office. Shaken as we were, all of us - to the very core - by the tragic passing of my mentor and friend, the late Ambassador Silva, still I must confess no small delight in this opportunity to serve Godii with my best efforts, to forge an ever stronger bond with our dear brethren - and sistren", here he offered the Councilor a broadening of his grin and a nod, "- of the Southlands. Please excuse my insolence, forget this prattling, and consider yourself most sincerely welcome, Councilwoman of Siguard. I am wholly at your service." Oh, that was nice. Nicer still, he gestured vaguely, without looking or breaking his smile, towards Vicky, looming to his right, always looming. "Such as it is."
Laen did not know it, but he had the second-most highly developed peripheral vision on this side of Sid. What he did know was that it was useful in a variety of settings, and tended to serve him well. Right now it told him, sadly, that Vicky hadn't so much as budged. So stout, so resolute! So boring. If anything, Vicky was standing straighter than before.
Laen slouched back in his seat and realized that a full second and a half had elapsed, and Councilwoman Vianna had not yet spoken. Oh, what was that customary invitation? He'd seen the former ambassador, and countless others here in Siguard City use it often enough. Come, speak, that I may know your will, or something like that. Today it was elusive. Know your will.
"Will your," he paused, and decided that slouching was probably not the most ceremonious vantage point from which to launch the conversation. He shrugged his shoulders forward and shook his arms vigorously, as one shaking off sleep. It was hopeless. Surely this was the behavior of a madman?
The grin was infectious, at least to himself. Let them wonder.
"-Councilwoman-ness please share your concerns, that we might offer some small measure of assistance?" He all but kicked with another taut snap of his head in Vicky's direction. "Again. Such as it is."
But her Councilwoman-ness said nothing. Her eyes, and those of her companion were fixed on Vicky, who might as well have been a statue in a crypt. Boring! Boring! Clearly, they were transfixed by such a shameless display of resolute immobility. It was almost fascinating in its way. Was Vicky even breathing? Laen snorted.
"We certainly thank you for your welcome and your time, Ambassador," but this wasn't the expected voice. This one was all iron, salt and earth. "Such as it is." With that, Garth Vencher finally took his eyes away from Vicky, and flashed Laen a capable little grin of his own. His eyes matched his voice more than anyone Laen had yet met. Was this serious giant of a man playing as well? "And it is much. We were," and here he exchanged an almost imperceptible glance with the Councilwoman, "acquaintances of the former Ambassador, and his passing is a great sadness to us." He paused, but the Lady Vianna seemed content to let him continue. "Above all, you have our sympathy. He must be greatly missed. He was a bringer and a keeper." Silly southern speech. He was more a wringer and a weeper, dull and uninteresting, but surely that was common knowledge here? Oh, the trials of formality.
Laen sent his smile scurrying. "You speak rightly and with great Truth." With a capital T. The Siguardians loved that sort of thing. "You would be Garth Vencher, soldier of Siguard, whose integrity and honor command respect throughout the Five Nations. I had not known that you were also such a well-spoken man. We'll have to add that to your long list of virtues, which was already impressive ere I ever heard you speak." This much was stolen straight from the dead ambassador's lips. For all his utter dreariness, Silva had been a master of that greatest diplomat of all, flattery. All but sincere, but sincere enough. "We are sincerely honored."
"Forgive us, Ambassador. Yet the details surrounding Ambassador Silva's death seem scarce to those who held him dear." Lida's voice was a revelation. "If it pleases you, could we share in your knowledge concerning the last days and end of our mutual friend?" And like that, she sent formality scurrying right after Laen's smile. Leaning forward with bright eyes, Laen deftly snatched them both by their tails and brought them back to the table. Oh, well done, Councilwoman!
"Absolutely not, Councilwoman Lida Vianna. Not one word of it, until I have properly received your most fair-seeming grace." He leaned back half-magnificently in his massive chair. "Among the power-brokers of polite society, both here and elsewhere, much has been said of your passion and your charms. Yet nothing could have prepared me for such a delicious onslaught upon my gasping senses. Dear lady, should I have known the half of your magnificence," he leaned forward now, "I should have more correctly received you on bended knee, with eyes fitfully averted, were it possible for a common man such as myself to tear his gaze away - even for a moment - from a vision of such exquisite beauty." Oh ho! She wasn't that beautiful. He knew it, she knew it, but there it was. Diplomacy.
The Councilwoman demurred almost on cue. She allowed herself a small slip of a smile, eyelashes batted just once, just so. "Certainly then, you knew well the former ambassador. You share his generous gift for praise kind, gracious, and less than deserved. I thank you for your fair words, for they humble me. Now that you have humbled me, humor me also," and the smile was now less than a memory. She straightened in her chair. She was taller than Laen. "What do you know of Wol Silva's death?"
Presently, Laen had no further use for the formality or the smile, so he dropped them both. "As a matter of course, our office delivered a formal letter describing this tragic incident to the proper Siguardian officials shortly after it occurred, nigh on two cycles ago. If there was some discrepancy or lack in my report, this would be the first I've heard of it. Or," and he looked first at Garth, then back to Lida, "is this something less than an official inquiry?"
Lida visibly relaxed in her chair. "I named him a friend."
"Off the official record, then?"
"Quite." She inclined her head toward Laen in what he could only describe as the world's tiniest curtsy. "Please."
"Very well. How could we say no to that?" He turned to include Vicky, but there was nobody there. The statue had left the crypt.
Victorious Difont certainly appeared quite statuesque, impossibly named, impossibly gleaming tall in his ceremonial armor. And it was fairly cryptic, the way he made his way with that calm, measured stride around the far southern end of the immense table, on his way to... what, exactly? His ability to sneak off silent and unnoticed, despite his heavy, proud armor, was infuriating to Laen in a way that could only be so annoying to those who pride themselves inordinately on their own capacity for stealth. So prim and proper, so utterly dutiful and proud. Laen felt the flow of conversation stall as his guests followed his eyes, if not his thoughts - and that conversation had just started to blossom! All three now turned to watch Victorious approach Garth's chair without word or gesture of explanation. Laen glanced over to catch, if he could, Garth's reaction to a heavily-armed man as big as himself advancing without any discernible cause, when he discerned the as yet untouched decanter lost in the vast midlands of the great table. No small reach beyond it, his guests' empty crusted goblets remained just that. For pity's sake!
Of course, after the late Ambassador's demise, the Siguardian wait staff had been summarily questioned and dismissed, while the Godian staff - outside of Laen, Victorious, and his guards - had been relieved of duty and were being held for further questioning even now, several floors above this very room. Regrettable, to be sure, but these strict orders came directly from the Homeland, once they'd received the official report on the circumstances leading to Silva's death. That report's author now found himself at a rare loss, faced with an unforeseen and rather embarassing oversight brought on by his own actions. There was no one to tend to common decency, no one left to even pour the wine.
As if on cue, Victorious deftly reached a shiny long arm into the great, central void and returned it to fill first the Councilwoman, and then Garth's goblets. Of course, he could hardly be expected to reach all the way across to Laen's cup; such a mighty stretch could only have been serviced by a Demon. Laen had no doubt the impeccable soldier would serve him upon his return, but the sheer ridiculousness of this awkward pass was having its way with him, so he fairly clambered up onto the table to reach the decanter the moment Victorious set it down, and nearly swilled straight from the bottle before he thought better of it and poured.
Victorious Difont. Gleaming, looming, already on his long way back to his place at Laen's side, and yet a word to pass his lips. So stout and resolute. So prim and proper, so utterly dutiful and proud. And he hated being called Vicky.
To the expectant silence which threatened to become uncomfortable, Laen simply shrugged, "He insists, you know," drained his glass, and brought it down on the hard wood with a most undiplomatic crack. How could he forget something as obvious as the wine?
He fell back into his mighty chair in a half-slouch, and without gesture resumed the game from this vantage point. "Fair lady," he began, then paused to stroke an upper lip where hair would never grow. "Tell me what you know and I shall endeavor to teach you the truth of it."
The Councilwoman had yet to tilt her cup, instead stroking the stem idly in passing recollection before beginning. Garth took advantage of the pause to sample his own goblet, and with his eyes offered a tiny curtsy of his own over the rim to Victorious. What was it with these Siguardians and their tiny curtsies? Laen couldn't believe he hadn't noticed this before. "Ambassador..." she let the title drift into a question with an unexpected smile and wrinkle of that perfect nose.
"Laen, fair lady, I beg of you - call me Laen."
Lida nodded, leaned forward, and rested her pale arms squarely on the table now. "Laen, according to members of the Council I spoke with, the official report - your report - stated that during his return from an appointment in Bemer, the Ambassador fell ill, swiftly and without warning, perhaps as a result of something he had eaten. He died before his party reached the citadel. Now I tell you that even on the face of it, this bears the guise of falsehood. The road he traveled is well-tended and the forests largely tamed. Do you claim he lost all reason and dined on hardleberries or some bright, malignant fungus that caught his eye in the passing forest? For I can certainly tell you that there are none such along that road."
Laen remained in his half-slouch.
Lida tilted her head slightly. "And isn't it strange that no other member of his party appears to have been similarly afflicted? Did he dine alone among friends? Friend Laen, I cannot help but suspect that some essential details failed to make it into your report. Surely your own government was not so easily satisfied with such a reckoning?"
Laen reached for his wine, reconsidered, and instead turned the effort into a shrug. "Of course not. Silva was a traitor and a spy. He turned over sensitive state information to undisclosed Siguardian officials. His treason led to the horrible deaths of fourteen Godian soldiers." The Lady Lida did not so much as breathe when he paused. "My superiors in the Homeland would, of course, greatly desire to know just who he spoke to, and just what was said. However, the graces of diplomacy between two nations so near to war do not permit a direct inquiry. Still, our sources in the field had more than enough information to condemn your friend and my mentor. This much I have learned from Godii and nothing more. I can only speculate that his trial and sentence were delivered by the proper Godian agents on the road from Bemer." Laen now permitted himself to reach for the wine. "I do not seek to alarm you, but you should not allow yourself to underestimate the reach of General Graeme's hand, nor the utter swiftness of Godian retribution." No one spoke as he drank deeply. Laen brought the goblet down twice as hard as before, and this time the resounding impact, reverberating as quickly as it could in that massive, stone chamber, was clearly an exclamation point.
Garth appeared ready to leap out of his seat. Vicky rocked once - barely - on his heels, hands still behind his back, and settled back into whatever drab, grey reverie granite dreams were made of. "Surely I misunderstand you, friend Laen. Have you just confessed a bare, Godian act of war?" Garth's voice was now mostly iron, with very little salt or earth to temper it.
Laen let the accusation hover between them like pale, wet mist. Lida tipped her glass and set it down again silently. "Perhaps, and then again not entirely surprising. This account, though uncommonly forthcoming, is not beyond our fears. Yet I do mourn for Wol Silva, if this indeed is the truth at last. To be utterly disposed for following the best counsels of one's heart, and by one's own countrymen." She folded her hands under her chin and leaned forward to engage Laen with practiced grace. Her smile was anything but. " Forgive my candor, but it strikes me that certain 'proper' Godian agents have benefited much from this pass. The Disromantics might say you were quite the opportunist, Laen of Godii."
"Yes I am!" Laen exploded with a grin. "The chief difference between you and I, friend Councilwoman, might be that I freely admit it. As for the Disromantics -" he turned his head down and away with a contemptuous ward of his hand, as one unhappy to find himself staring unexpected into the heart of the sun. "They would sap the heat and heart of the very world in the name of reason. I won't live in such a dreary, loveless void," and suddenly he brightened at a new opportunity, "although Vicky might!" With a practiced grace of his own, he fully turned smiling, away from Lida and Garth, and gave his attention to Victorious instead.
A beautiful, oddly tenor, flute-like melody descended from looming, gleaming heights. "A world without Romance is a world without Heroes." He spoke with definitive, capital letters. At last relinquishing from his vision's grasp that particular brick embedded in the far opposing wall - seventeen down from the ceiling and eight to the right of the mighty doors - he turned his gaze to look fairly at Lida. "What kind of world would that be, sweet lady?"
Laen was impressed. Only Vicky could say "sweet lady" with enough respect to make a genuine compliment of it. He turned back to his guests just in time to see that Garth was, perhaps, less impressed.
The Sweet Lady's smile, however, remained ironic. "Good sir Vicky - and I have to think there is considerably more to your name than that - it could be a world where good, honest persons such as yourself find themselves party and profit to murder and deceit. Seemingly." She regarded Victorious steadily as if seeing his full, shining height for the first time. Vicky, awake and unflinching, returned her scrutiny with a matching wonder and intensity. The battle between guile and the lack was about to be enjoined in that space where their gazes met. Where before there had been pale, wet mist, now there was the pregnant anticipation of an arena-clad duel.
Laen was by nature quite a curious man, and nearly decided to let this one play out. Nearly. Except that now would be a great time for a great laugh. He broadly guffawed, and to his delight, all mists and arenas were soundly displaced.
"Vicky, a cold-blooded murderer and 'cordbreaker? Five Fathers keep us, no! Oh, no!" All eyes were back on Laen. "No, Victorious here has always worn the shiny armor and vacant gaze, standing, as now, three soldier's stride from this massive seat. No, good Councilwoman, the only change is in the occupant of this seat, and there you might find your profiteer. But leave Vicky. He's incapable."
Lida muttered something in a low aside to Garth, who nodded without taking his eyes off of Laen. Aloud, she said, "Had I known we would be dancing this evening, I would have worn a suitable gown and my best finery. As it is, the dance is tiring on an empty belly." At this, Laen had a sharp vision of the old cook, Tobias, and his game-footed young assistant, languishing away in a windowless room three stories above them. He scolded himself. Amateur! Amateur! "We thank you for our time and your candor, but I believe we are finished here. Good evening, Ambassador."
Before she could rise and before he could help himself, Laen remarked, "Oh, your belly isn't so empty, Lady Councilwoman." Oh, oh, oh.
Were her eyes glowing? "The wine, dear Lida. The wine. Forgive my lack of decorum, and blame only my lack of experience rather than my good intent. The kitchen staff have been indisposed as of late, and I'm just too wet behind the ears to have thought to make alternate arrangements for entertaining such honored guests. A travesty, I know, and I do beg your pardon." No, no, her eyes weren't glowing. In fact, her gaze now softened despite her Council training. "However, a thought occurs to me, if I might inquire before you take your leave."
"Please, share your thought, friend Laen."
Laen rose out of his chair, feigned a brooding stride, and walked around to the back of the great seat before fixing his sharp, Northern eyes on that flawless, Southern nose.
"What were you doing in Bemer at the same time as the late Ambassador, whom you name your friend? Coincidence, perhaps?"
Oh, this was good, the way her eyes hardened and softened again in the space of half a heartbeat. The Lady Vianna, Councilwoman of Siguard, Ministress of Transportation and Sanitation, stood upright for an answer, reminding Laen once again who was taller. To her right, Garth mirrored her, yet somehow he didn't shine when he stood. The effect was that he was more a large, distended shadow, trailing long and far behind his sunlit counterpart.
"You're playing with us, Ambassador. You are equal parts candor and confusion. Clearly it is your intent to sow fear and doubt with your remarks, rather than offer any of the illumination we had hoped to find."
Intent. Sow. Fear. Doubt. "I so fear you doubt my intent," Laen grinned. "And you should scarce sell yourself short, milady. You glow with a devastating radiance all your own. What light could I possibly shine that you do not already possess tenfold? No, my only strategy is to selfishly amuse myself, marking the time between unexpected fits of honesty and clarity." He walked to the edge of the table and leaned forward, resting his palms against the heavy, polished wood. "You see, I have grown fond of your land and it's people. This is sooth. This did also occur to my predecessor, that yours is a fair and interesting culture. Consider what I have shared with you in the course of our little dance, Lady Lida. You are now closer to knowing the will and mind of your nation's greatest adversary than any other Councillor. You have information which could, if skillfully cultivated, arouse your people from slumber to a righteous cry for war. At the least, you will be on your guard henceforth, and advise your peers accordingly. And why would I do this?"
When he didn't continue, Garth took the bait. "You speak quite frankly for one so carefully managed from afar." Stealing a quick glance at Victorious, he leaned forward to mirror Laen's posture. "Beware the proper Godian authorities, friend Laen. You are either with them or you're not."
Laen decided Garth wasn't very bright. No, more to the point, he lacked imagination, and therefore was likely very dull. He and Vicky would probably get on superbly well, given the chance.
Lida stepped forward until her thighs impressed the same table's edge Garth's heavy fists could not. "I will hear you without prejudice, Laen. You nearly commit the very crime that you claim cost the departed Godian Ambassador his life. Why indeed do you," she made a fair show of looking for the precise words, "carry on so?"
Laen returned to the expansive, heavily gestured smile he'd entered the room with. "I crave only that you might trust me half so much as you did my worthy mentor, Wol Silva, milady."
"And...?" She inclined her head towards the statue of a soldier that was Victorious.
Still smiling, Laen lowered his head, fixing his gaze on the livelier of the two slabs of wood in the room, and shouted, "Vicky! Are you with me?"
The sing-song tenor voice again deigned to part the clouds on high and descend to the low height of mere mortal ears. "You're still alive, aren't you? I rather think it goes without saying." He fixed his gaze on the departing Siguardians. "You are among friends and equals here, good people of Siguard. Never doubt it."
Laen looked up at Lida with a cocked brow. "We are the best friends a Councillor seeking to understand the plans and plights of Godian policy could ever hope to find. In the coming days you may find occasion to grace us with your incomparable glow once again. Pray, don't delay."
Lida was beginning to feel overwhelmed. Laen could very nearly taste the frustration and excitement competing just behind her set jaw-line. To her credit, he doubted any one else could. She was a remarkably composed woman, even when she was not. Suddenly he felt more certain than ever that he had indeed done the right thing. "The right thing, milady, would be to accept this standing invitation at the earliest available opportunity."
"Perhaps," she said simply, turning. "Perhaps I will better learn the skill of tolerance and the virtue of patience, and return to discover whether your trust is indeed sooth. Good evening once again, Ambassador." Over her shoulder to Victorious she added, "Good evening, good sir!"
In response, Victorious bowed low and silent. Laen couldn't resist. "Be sure to bring your finest dancing apparel, Councilwoman," he called. In answer, Lida waved a softly-dismissive hand as Garth held open one of the great, black doors. It fell shut behind them with a muffled groan.
Laen stared after them for a moment, still taking in their departure as he said, "Well, Vicky, that went pretty well, don't you think?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, he strode across the great stone floor and left the room, heading out into the even larger main hall. Vast draperies of faded purple, blue and gold stretched unmoving from the floor to dark recesses beyond the light. Perhaps there was a roof above all, but Laen could not attest to it. Across this brooding, grey expanse lay the stairs which would take him to a hall, then another, then a shorter flight of steps, and finally to his empty room where he could think. At the foot of the stairs, watching him approach, stood Bern, one of Vicky's men. Long black spear and vapid loyal duty in hand. Before closing half the distance, Laen bellowed, "Bern! Good man! A favor if you will!" Bern focused his gaze, recognized the new Ambassador, and did nothing more. "Come, man! I have an errand for you!" Closer now, Laen realized he was still shouting. Nevermind. He walked right up into Bern's personal space, nose to nose, turned his head to the side and yelled, "Bern!"
Bern dropped his spear, bent to pick it up, and replied. "Yes, Ambassador?"
"I've only just left Victorious in the dining hall, and realized I forgot to tell him something rather important. You'll deliver a message for me, won't you?" Bern looked over Laen's shoulder as if to affirm that it really was only a matter of several retraced paces that stood between Laen and the act of delivering his message himself. "Nevermind why, I need you to tell him that the Inquiry is officially closed, all staff have been deemed innocent of any subterfuge, and they are to be released as soon as safe passage to Godii and notices of official sanctuary might be provided. Then tell him I don't wish to be disturbed any more this evening. I go now to my room. Very well?"
"Quite, Ambassador. Good evening to you."
Laen walked the rest of the way to his chambers deep in unshared thoughts... Our guests had to open the door for themselves, no wine, no meal - why did I not at least free old Tobias the moment word of this visit arrived? Amateur! Some Junior Ambassador! Hm. Does Victorious realize just how fond of this land I have truly become? Does Lida Vianna believe I am, as poor Silva before me, a true friend to her nation? Am I? Will I meet with an unfortunate accident in the woods? It's not like I don't know the agent who took care of Silva. He's still out there, watching... But Lida, she is a strong, admirable woman. What man of flesh and blood could have stood idly by, if he knew there was a plot against one such as her? It's too bad Silva was found out. He shouldn't have been so obvious, and I told him so. He did not listen.
Laen stopped in front of his door.
I wonder if Lida Vianna has any inkling whatsoever that it was I, of all persons, who first received the message from Godii, who first sounded the warning two cycles back. I, through the unfortunate Silva, who did save her life... I, who then received orders from the Homeland to take Silva's place, even to play his part as a traitor. Oh, my. It really is terribly amusing.
The new Godian Ambassador to the People's Union of Siguard found himself possessed of a smile that threatened to burn a hole in the ornately-carved door, so he opened it with a great, melodramatic flourish and disappeared into the privacy of his inner sanctum.
Very well, let the games begin!
He had already spoken, although he couldn't remember what he'd said. Probably some such about welcome and graced presences. Presented graces. Presently graceful, he smiled and said, "Great pretenses." He paused for a beat of a sparrow's heart. Okay. "...Are for greater persons than my own, humble self. Dear guests, please forgive my impropriety. I am even yet schooling myself in the finer arts of my new office. Shaken as we were, all of us - to the very core - by the tragic passing of my mentor and friend, the late Ambassador Silva, still I must confess no small delight in this opportunity to serve Godii with my best efforts, to forge an ever stronger bond with our dear brethren - and sistren", here he offered the Councilor a broadening of his grin and a nod, "- of the Southlands. Please excuse my insolence, forget this prattling, and consider yourself most sincerely welcome, Councilwoman of Siguard. I am wholly at your service." Oh, that was nice. Nicer still, he gestured vaguely, without looking or breaking his smile, towards Vicky, looming to his right, always looming. "Such as it is."
Laen did not know it, but he had the second-most highly developed peripheral vision on this side of Sid. What he did know was that it was useful in a variety of settings, and tended to serve him well. Right now it told him, sadly, that Vicky hadn't so much as budged. So stout, so resolute! So boring. If anything, Vicky was standing straighter than before.
Laen slouched back in his seat and realized that a full second and a half had elapsed, and Councilwoman Vianna had not yet spoken. Oh, what was that customary invitation? He'd seen the former ambassador, and countless others here in Siguard City use it often enough. Come, speak, that I may know your will, or something like that. Today it was elusive. Know your will.
"Will your," he paused, and decided that slouching was probably not the most ceremonious vantage point from which to launch the conversation. He shrugged his shoulders forward and shook his arms vigorously, as one shaking off sleep. It was hopeless. Surely this was the behavior of a madman?
The grin was infectious, at least to himself. Let them wonder.
"-Councilwoman-ness please share your concerns, that we might offer some small measure of assistance?" He all but kicked with another taut snap of his head in Vicky's direction. "Again. Such as it is."
But her Councilwoman-ness said nothing. Her eyes, and those of her companion were fixed on Vicky, who might as well have been a statue in a crypt. Boring! Boring! Clearly, they were transfixed by such a shameless display of resolute immobility. It was almost fascinating in its way. Was Vicky even breathing? Laen snorted.
"We certainly thank you for your welcome and your time, Ambassador," but this wasn't the expected voice. This one was all iron, salt and earth. "Such as it is." With that, Garth Vencher finally took his eyes away from Vicky, and flashed Laen a capable little grin of his own. His eyes matched his voice more than anyone Laen had yet met. Was this serious giant of a man playing as well? "And it is much. We were," and here he exchanged an almost imperceptible glance with the Councilwoman, "acquaintances of the former Ambassador, and his passing is a great sadness to us." He paused, but the Lady Vianna seemed content to let him continue. "Above all, you have our sympathy. He must be greatly missed. He was a bringer and a keeper." Silly southern speech. He was more a wringer and a weeper, dull and uninteresting, but surely that was common knowledge here? Oh, the trials of formality.
Laen sent his smile scurrying. "You speak rightly and with great Truth." With a capital T. The Siguardians loved that sort of thing. "You would be Garth Vencher, soldier of Siguard, whose integrity and honor command respect throughout the Five Nations. I had not known that you were also such a well-spoken man. We'll have to add that to your long list of virtues, which was already impressive ere I ever heard you speak." This much was stolen straight from the dead ambassador's lips. For all his utter dreariness, Silva had been a master of that greatest diplomat of all, flattery. All but sincere, but sincere enough. "We are sincerely honored."
"Forgive us, Ambassador. Yet the details surrounding Ambassador Silva's death seem scarce to those who held him dear." Lida's voice was a revelation. "If it pleases you, could we share in your knowledge concerning the last days and end of our mutual friend?" And like that, she sent formality scurrying right after Laen's smile. Leaning forward with bright eyes, Laen deftly snatched them both by their tails and brought them back to the table. Oh, well done, Councilwoman!
"Absolutely not, Councilwoman Lida Vianna. Not one word of it, until I have properly received your most fair-seeming grace." He leaned back half-magnificently in his massive chair. "Among the power-brokers of polite society, both here and elsewhere, much has been said of your passion and your charms. Yet nothing could have prepared me for such a delicious onslaught upon my gasping senses. Dear lady, should I have known the half of your magnificence," he leaned forward now, "I should have more correctly received you on bended knee, with eyes fitfully averted, were it possible for a common man such as myself to tear his gaze away - even for a moment - from a vision of such exquisite beauty." Oh ho! She wasn't that beautiful. He knew it, she knew it, but there it was. Diplomacy.
The Councilwoman demurred almost on cue. She allowed herself a small slip of a smile, eyelashes batted just once, just so. "Certainly then, you knew well the former ambassador. You share his generous gift for praise kind, gracious, and less than deserved. I thank you for your fair words, for they humble me. Now that you have humbled me, humor me also," and the smile was now less than a memory. She straightened in her chair. She was taller than Laen. "What do you know of Wol Silva's death?"
Presently, Laen had no further use for the formality or the smile, so he dropped them both. "As a matter of course, our office delivered a formal letter describing this tragic incident to the proper Siguardian officials shortly after it occurred, nigh on two cycles ago. If there was some discrepancy or lack in my report, this would be the first I've heard of it. Or," and he looked first at Garth, then back to Lida, "is this something less than an official inquiry?"
Lida visibly relaxed in her chair. "I named him a friend."
"Off the official record, then?"
"Quite." She inclined her head toward Laen in what he could only describe as the world's tiniest curtsy. "Please."
"Very well. How could we say no to that?" He turned to include Vicky, but there was nobody there. The statue had left the crypt.
Victorious Difont certainly appeared quite statuesque, impossibly named, impossibly gleaming tall in his ceremonial armor. And it was fairly cryptic, the way he made his way with that calm, measured stride around the far southern end of the immense table, on his way to... what, exactly? His ability to sneak off silent and unnoticed, despite his heavy, proud armor, was infuriating to Laen in a way that could only be so annoying to those who pride themselves inordinately on their own capacity for stealth. So prim and proper, so utterly dutiful and proud. Laen felt the flow of conversation stall as his guests followed his eyes, if not his thoughts - and that conversation had just started to blossom! All three now turned to watch Victorious approach Garth's chair without word or gesture of explanation. Laen glanced over to catch, if he could, Garth's reaction to a heavily-armed man as big as himself advancing without any discernible cause, when he discerned the as yet untouched decanter lost in the vast midlands of the great table. No small reach beyond it, his guests' empty crusted goblets remained just that. For pity's sake!
Of course, after the late Ambassador's demise, the Siguardian wait staff had been summarily questioned and dismissed, while the Godian staff - outside of Laen, Victorious, and his guards - had been relieved of duty and were being held for further questioning even now, several floors above this very room. Regrettable, to be sure, but these strict orders came directly from the Homeland, once they'd received the official report on the circumstances leading to Silva's death. That report's author now found himself at a rare loss, faced with an unforeseen and rather embarassing oversight brought on by his own actions. There was no one to tend to common decency, no one left to even pour the wine.
As if on cue, Victorious deftly reached a shiny long arm into the great, central void and returned it to fill first the Councilwoman, and then Garth's goblets. Of course, he could hardly be expected to reach all the way across to Laen's cup; such a mighty stretch could only have been serviced by a Demon. Laen had no doubt the impeccable soldier would serve him upon his return, but the sheer ridiculousness of this awkward pass was having its way with him, so he fairly clambered up onto the table to reach the decanter the moment Victorious set it down, and nearly swilled straight from the bottle before he thought better of it and poured.
Victorious Difont. Gleaming, looming, already on his long way back to his place at Laen's side, and yet a word to pass his lips. So stout and resolute. So prim and proper, so utterly dutiful and proud. And he hated being called Vicky.
To the expectant silence which threatened to become uncomfortable, Laen simply shrugged, "He insists, you know," drained his glass, and brought it down on the hard wood with a most undiplomatic crack. How could he forget something as obvious as the wine?
He fell back into his mighty chair in a half-slouch, and without gesture resumed the game from this vantage point. "Fair lady," he began, then paused to stroke an upper lip where hair would never grow. "Tell me what you know and I shall endeavor to teach you the truth of it."
The Councilwoman had yet to tilt her cup, instead stroking the stem idly in passing recollection before beginning. Garth took advantage of the pause to sample his own goblet, and with his eyes offered a tiny curtsy of his own over the rim to Victorious. What was it with these Siguardians and their tiny curtsies? Laen couldn't believe he hadn't noticed this before. "Ambassador..." she let the title drift into a question with an unexpected smile and wrinkle of that perfect nose.
"Laen, fair lady, I beg of you - call me Laen."
Lida nodded, leaned forward, and rested her pale arms squarely on the table now. "Laen, according to members of the Council I spoke with, the official report - your report - stated that during his return from an appointment in Bemer, the Ambassador fell ill, swiftly and without warning, perhaps as a result of something he had eaten. He died before his party reached the citadel. Now I tell you that even on the face of it, this bears the guise of falsehood. The road he traveled is well-tended and the forests largely tamed. Do you claim he lost all reason and dined on hardleberries or some bright, malignant fungus that caught his eye in the passing forest? For I can certainly tell you that there are none such along that road."
Laen remained in his half-slouch.
Lida tilted her head slightly. "And isn't it strange that no other member of his party appears to have been similarly afflicted? Did he dine alone among friends? Friend Laen, I cannot help but suspect that some essential details failed to make it into your report. Surely your own government was not so easily satisfied with such a reckoning?"
Laen reached for his wine, reconsidered, and instead turned the effort into a shrug. "Of course not. Silva was a traitor and a spy. He turned over sensitive state information to undisclosed Siguardian officials. His treason led to the horrible deaths of fourteen Godian soldiers." The Lady Lida did not so much as breathe when he paused. "My superiors in the Homeland would, of course, greatly desire to know just who he spoke to, and just what was said. However, the graces of diplomacy between two nations so near to war do not permit a direct inquiry. Still, our sources in the field had more than enough information to condemn your friend and my mentor. This much I have learned from Godii and nothing more. I can only speculate that his trial and sentence were delivered by the proper Godian agents on the road from Bemer." Laen now permitted himself to reach for the wine. "I do not seek to alarm you, but you should not allow yourself to underestimate the reach of General Graeme's hand, nor the utter swiftness of Godian retribution." No one spoke as he drank deeply. Laen brought the goblet down twice as hard as before, and this time the resounding impact, reverberating as quickly as it could in that massive, stone chamber, was clearly an exclamation point.
Garth appeared ready to leap out of his seat. Vicky rocked once - barely - on his heels, hands still behind his back, and settled back into whatever drab, grey reverie granite dreams were made of. "Surely I misunderstand you, friend Laen. Have you just confessed a bare, Godian act of war?" Garth's voice was now mostly iron, with very little salt or earth to temper it.
Laen let the accusation hover between them like pale, wet mist. Lida tipped her glass and set it down again silently. "Perhaps, and then again not entirely surprising. This account, though uncommonly forthcoming, is not beyond our fears. Yet I do mourn for Wol Silva, if this indeed is the truth at last. To be utterly disposed for following the best counsels of one's heart, and by one's own countrymen." She folded her hands under her chin and leaned forward to engage Laen with practiced grace. Her smile was anything but. " Forgive my candor, but it strikes me that certain 'proper' Godian agents have benefited much from this pass. The Disromantics might say you were quite the opportunist, Laen of Godii."
"Yes I am!" Laen exploded with a grin. "The chief difference between you and I, friend Councilwoman, might be that I freely admit it. As for the Disromantics -" he turned his head down and away with a contemptuous ward of his hand, as one unhappy to find himself staring unexpected into the heart of the sun. "They would sap the heat and heart of the very world in the name of reason. I won't live in such a dreary, loveless void," and suddenly he brightened at a new opportunity, "although Vicky might!" With a practiced grace of his own, he fully turned smiling, away from Lida and Garth, and gave his attention to Victorious instead.
A beautiful, oddly tenor, flute-like melody descended from looming, gleaming heights. "A world without Romance is a world without Heroes." He spoke with definitive, capital letters. At last relinquishing from his vision's grasp that particular brick embedded in the far opposing wall - seventeen down from the ceiling and eight to the right of the mighty doors - he turned his gaze to look fairly at Lida. "What kind of world would that be, sweet lady?"
Laen was impressed. Only Vicky could say "sweet lady" with enough respect to make a genuine compliment of it. He turned back to his guests just in time to see that Garth was, perhaps, less impressed.
The Sweet Lady's smile, however, remained ironic. "Good sir Vicky - and I have to think there is considerably more to your name than that - it could be a world where good, honest persons such as yourself find themselves party and profit to murder and deceit. Seemingly." She regarded Victorious steadily as if seeing his full, shining height for the first time. Vicky, awake and unflinching, returned her scrutiny with a matching wonder and intensity. The battle between guile and the lack was about to be enjoined in that space where their gazes met. Where before there had been pale, wet mist, now there was the pregnant anticipation of an arena-clad duel.
Laen was by nature quite a curious man, and nearly decided to let this one play out. Nearly. Except that now would be a great time for a great laugh. He broadly guffawed, and to his delight, all mists and arenas were soundly displaced.
"Vicky, a cold-blooded murderer and 'cordbreaker? Five Fathers keep us, no! Oh, no!" All eyes were back on Laen. "No, Victorious here has always worn the shiny armor and vacant gaze, standing, as now, three soldier's stride from this massive seat. No, good Councilwoman, the only change is in the occupant of this seat, and there you might find your profiteer. But leave Vicky. He's incapable."
Lida muttered something in a low aside to Garth, who nodded without taking his eyes off of Laen. Aloud, she said, "Had I known we would be dancing this evening, I would have worn a suitable gown and my best finery. As it is, the dance is tiring on an empty belly." At this, Laen had a sharp vision of the old cook, Tobias, and his game-footed young assistant, languishing away in a windowless room three stories above them. He scolded himself. Amateur! Amateur! "We thank you for our time and your candor, but I believe we are finished here. Good evening, Ambassador."
Before she could rise and before he could help himself, Laen remarked, "Oh, your belly isn't so empty, Lady Councilwoman." Oh, oh, oh.
Were her eyes glowing? "The wine, dear Lida. The wine. Forgive my lack of decorum, and blame only my lack of experience rather than my good intent. The kitchen staff have been indisposed as of late, and I'm just too wet behind the ears to have thought to make alternate arrangements for entertaining such honored guests. A travesty, I know, and I do beg your pardon." No, no, her eyes weren't glowing. In fact, her gaze now softened despite her Council training. "However, a thought occurs to me, if I might inquire before you take your leave."
"Please, share your thought, friend Laen."
Laen rose out of his chair, feigned a brooding stride, and walked around to the back of the great seat before fixing his sharp, Northern eyes on that flawless, Southern nose.
"What were you doing in Bemer at the same time as the late Ambassador, whom you name your friend? Coincidence, perhaps?"
Oh, this was good, the way her eyes hardened and softened again in the space of half a heartbeat. The Lady Vianna, Councilwoman of Siguard, Ministress of Transportation and Sanitation, stood upright for an answer, reminding Laen once again who was taller. To her right, Garth mirrored her, yet somehow he didn't shine when he stood. The effect was that he was more a large, distended shadow, trailing long and far behind his sunlit counterpart.
"You're playing with us, Ambassador. You are equal parts candor and confusion. Clearly it is your intent to sow fear and doubt with your remarks, rather than offer any of the illumination we had hoped to find."
Intent. Sow. Fear. Doubt. "I so fear you doubt my intent," Laen grinned. "And you should scarce sell yourself short, milady. You glow with a devastating radiance all your own. What light could I possibly shine that you do not already possess tenfold? No, my only strategy is to selfishly amuse myself, marking the time between unexpected fits of honesty and clarity." He walked to the edge of the table and leaned forward, resting his palms against the heavy, polished wood. "You see, I have grown fond of your land and it's people. This is sooth. This did also occur to my predecessor, that yours is a fair and interesting culture. Consider what I have shared with you in the course of our little dance, Lady Lida. You are now closer to knowing the will and mind of your nation's greatest adversary than any other Councillor. You have information which could, if skillfully cultivated, arouse your people from slumber to a righteous cry for war. At the least, you will be on your guard henceforth, and advise your peers accordingly. And why would I do this?"
When he didn't continue, Garth took the bait. "You speak quite frankly for one so carefully managed from afar." Stealing a quick glance at Victorious, he leaned forward to mirror Laen's posture. "Beware the proper Godian authorities, friend Laen. You are either with them or you're not."
Laen decided Garth wasn't very bright. No, more to the point, he lacked imagination, and therefore was likely very dull. He and Vicky would probably get on superbly well, given the chance.
Lida stepped forward until her thighs impressed the same table's edge Garth's heavy fists could not. "I will hear you without prejudice, Laen. You nearly commit the very crime that you claim cost the departed Godian Ambassador his life. Why indeed do you," she made a fair show of looking for the precise words, "carry on so?"
Laen returned to the expansive, heavily gestured smile he'd entered the room with. "I crave only that you might trust me half so much as you did my worthy mentor, Wol Silva, milady."
"And...?" She inclined her head towards the statue of a soldier that was Victorious.
Still smiling, Laen lowered his head, fixing his gaze on the livelier of the two slabs of wood in the room, and shouted, "Vicky! Are you with me?"
The sing-song tenor voice again deigned to part the clouds on high and descend to the low height of mere mortal ears. "You're still alive, aren't you? I rather think it goes without saying." He fixed his gaze on the departing Siguardians. "You are among friends and equals here, good people of Siguard. Never doubt it."
Laen looked up at Lida with a cocked brow. "We are the best friends a Councillor seeking to understand the plans and plights of Godian policy could ever hope to find. In the coming days you may find occasion to grace us with your incomparable glow once again. Pray, don't delay."
Lida was beginning to feel overwhelmed. Laen could very nearly taste the frustration and excitement competing just behind her set jaw-line. To her credit, he doubted any one else could. She was a remarkably composed woman, even when she was not. Suddenly he felt more certain than ever that he had indeed done the right thing. "The right thing, milady, would be to accept this standing invitation at the earliest available opportunity."
"Perhaps," she said simply, turning. "Perhaps I will better learn the skill of tolerance and the virtue of patience, and return to discover whether your trust is indeed sooth. Good evening once again, Ambassador." Over her shoulder to Victorious she added, "Good evening, good sir!"
In response, Victorious bowed low and silent. Laen couldn't resist. "Be sure to bring your finest dancing apparel, Councilwoman," he called. In answer, Lida waved a softly-dismissive hand as Garth held open one of the great, black doors. It fell shut behind them with a muffled groan.
Laen stared after them for a moment, still taking in their departure as he said, "Well, Vicky, that went pretty well, don't you think?" As soon as the words had left his mouth, he strode across the great stone floor and left the room, heading out into the even larger main hall. Vast draperies of faded purple, blue and gold stretched unmoving from the floor to dark recesses beyond the light. Perhaps there was a roof above all, but Laen could not attest to it. Across this brooding, grey expanse lay the stairs which would take him to a hall, then another, then a shorter flight of steps, and finally to his empty room where he could think. At the foot of the stairs, watching him approach, stood Bern, one of Vicky's men. Long black spear and vapid loyal duty in hand. Before closing half the distance, Laen bellowed, "Bern! Good man! A favor if you will!" Bern focused his gaze, recognized the new Ambassador, and did nothing more. "Come, man! I have an errand for you!" Closer now, Laen realized he was still shouting. Nevermind. He walked right up into Bern's personal space, nose to nose, turned his head to the side and yelled, "Bern!"
Bern dropped his spear, bent to pick it up, and replied. "Yes, Ambassador?"
"I've only just left Victorious in the dining hall, and realized I forgot to tell him something rather important. You'll deliver a message for me, won't you?" Bern looked over Laen's shoulder as if to affirm that it really was only a matter of several retraced paces that stood between Laen and the act of delivering his message himself. "Nevermind why, I need you to tell him that the Inquiry is officially closed, all staff have been deemed innocent of any subterfuge, and they are to be released as soon as safe passage to Godii and notices of official sanctuary might be provided. Then tell him I don't wish to be disturbed any more this evening. I go now to my room. Very well?"
"Quite, Ambassador. Good evening to you."
Laen walked the rest of the way to his chambers deep in unshared thoughts... Our guests had to open the door for themselves, no wine, no meal - why did I not at least free old Tobias the moment word of this visit arrived? Amateur! Some Junior Ambassador! Hm. Does Victorious realize just how fond of this land I have truly become? Does Lida Vianna believe I am, as poor Silva before me, a true friend to her nation? Am I? Will I meet with an unfortunate accident in the woods? It's not like I don't know the agent who took care of Silva. He's still out there, watching... But Lida, she is a strong, admirable woman. What man of flesh and blood could have stood idly by, if he knew there was a plot against one such as her? It's too bad Silva was found out. He shouldn't have been so obvious, and I told him so. He did not listen.
Laen stopped in front of his door.
I wonder if Lida Vianna has any inkling whatsoever that it was I, of all persons, who first received the message from Godii, who first sounded the warning two cycles back. I, through the unfortunate Silva, who did save her life... I, who then received orders from the Homeland to take Silva's place, even to play his part as a traitor. Oh, my. It really is terribly amusing.
The new Godian Ambassador to the People's Union of Siguard found himself possessed of a smile that threatened to burn a hole in the ornately-carved door, so he opened it with a great, melodramatic flourish and disappeared into the privacy of his inner sanctum.
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