A Study On Its Reliability Is More Than Needed

Dirant opened it and read. “You have been informed of the break-in. Our best surmise is that the intruders sought our special ritual.” The inclusion of that “our” needled Dirant because of its presumption, but Silone could write what he wanted so long as the licensing agreement remained intact. That Silone wrote the letter was so obvious to his brother as not to require any consideration. “To prevent license violations, Mr. Donnlink Espahalpt has been dispatched to another state which will not be disclosed here. You are to remain in Drastlif until recalled. Watch for possible imitations by rivals and avoid being kidnapped or bribed. As Itinerant Ritualist, find something productive to do. The contents of these instructions may be shared with Mr. Hadolt Herafoken. Others may at your discretion be informed of as much or as little as seems appropriate.” Silone had learned not to bother signing his name. Ink also strained the budget, and the source of the command made no difference to the recipient.

Dirant handed it back. After reading it, the manager asked, “Well? What is to be done?”

“Already I am surrounded by Battlers.” Also by subordinates of the crown prince of Noiswawau, but his discretion decided against telling Mr. Hadolt about that. In the first place, Stansolt Gaomat owned the fact as the person who noticed and told Dirant, and in the second, it demanded no action from anyone. “That takes care of my safety well enough. The ritual is another matter. It is impossible for a spy to have discovered it in those files, and so finding themselves dropped in a rotten bushel, they may attempt to develop an imitation.” He hoped he had used that saying of Pavvu Omme Os correctly, or that if he had not, the manager would not notice.

What to do about any such imitation did not require elaboration. Someone of Mr. Hadolt's experience doubtless understood. If detected, the natural course for Stadeskosken and the license-holders would be to suggest a mutually beneficial agreement backed by the threat, unspoken of course, of legal action over the break-in. The faster the rival operation could be discovered, if it existed, the better, and Dirant Rikelta's desire to benefit on top of his new ability inspired him to volunteer. “There is this thought I have, and I wonder if you will add dignity to it by your assent. Unlikely as it is that anyone in Drastlif is involved with the espionage attempt, I might pay attention and perhaps investigate a bit. The embassy is especially of interest from the far-flung interests of the ambassadors and staff.”

“And so messages to the embassy ought to pass through you when discretion allows it?”

“Such is my contention.”

“That sounds like spying to me. I will cooperate happily.” The middle-aged manager had not accepted a transfer to the edge of the continent because of his warm feeling toward his home state's politicians, rumors in the branch suggested. Mr. Hadolt's present warmth and enthusiasm suggested there to be truth in them, despite the efforts of poets for centuries to devise turns of phrase about the empty falseness of deceiving Rumor. After hearing enough verses of that sort, one began to wonder about poets.

From then on, Dirant took more notice of rumors going around the Greater Enloffenkir embassy and the higher society which surrounded it. He was aided in that by Loigwin Nein-Cadops-Bain. That young gentleman appeared in Dubwasef one day, muttering about some family business he may or may not have been sent to conduct and asking after Onkallant, or any other Paspaklests, if they had any. He was willing to provide background on the various people mentioned and interpret the tone of certain sentiments. Despite how taken aback the northern visitors had been at Loigwin's effusive greetings, those exceeded the typical fulsomeness of Drastlif's lettered society by only a small amount. Then there were the literary allusions.

“It is wrong of me to complain I know,” Dirant complained. “Nevertheless, I feel like the man in the country where everyone speaks of Getomorikstant and at no time explains to him the meaning of it.”

“What country is that, and who the man?” Loigwin asked.

“Ah, that is from a goslikenar and is nothing real.”

“Is it in any way like the name unspeakable, the hand unholdable, and the wish ungrantable?”

“I do not know.”

That added another reference for Loigwin to clarify, which he happily did. He had nothing better to do, he admitted after the relationship between the men progressed from bare acquaintance to casual collaborator. Positions within the Nein-Cadops-Bain political-commercial empire existed in large yet nevertheless limited numbers, causing family members to strive against one another and the losers to weep for the opportunities lost. He did seem the sort to lose frequently, regardless of the facts of the case. In exchange, Dirant provided assistance he thought useless.

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“I'm not sure if it's right to exploit a lovestruck young man, Ressi. It's like taking the egg from a chicken you never feed.”

“Ah, we have that saying also.”

“I know! I read it in a book and liked it.”

Millim Takki Atsa and Dirant Rikelta had met in a diner popular with foreign patrons tired of double handshakes to discuss the current happenings and, more importantly, have lunch, or tea as it was known in Drastlif for the reason that tea was invariably served with it, foreign enclaves not excepted. Room-temperature or even iced tea usually, though the option was there.

Dirant had ignored the option and therefore felt refreshed. “The adage has its applications, and I deny this is one of them. My sole obligation is to tell a lady friend of the merits of a certain gentleman, in this case how helpful he is to foreigners, who will pass that on to other ladies and eventually, it is hoped, to the focus of the gentleman's attention. I understand things are commonly done this way here, whereas in Kitslof or I imagine in Rattap Tuik the expectation is of a single go-between who must arrange for the two people in question to meet. In short, I am feeding the chicken in accordance with the procedure a short-handed farmer instructed me, in the position of a seasonal laborer, to follow.”

Takki had dared the challenge of boiling water but reverted to the more common kind in the end. “You might be right. Now that I think of it, the preponderance of the gossip I hear is a lady telling us what a gentleman told her about another gentleman. There's probably conniving behind a lot of it, like what you do.”

“At this moment, you mean.”

“Right. I'll pass on to Onerid how good at gossiping Eizesl Nein-Cadops-Bain is.” The relationship of those two ladies had progressed enough for Takki to drop the Miss, Dirant noted. Perhaps Onerid Paspaklest would soon acquire a third name in front of the two she had already.

“We must consult an expert on a more flattering phrasing before that. Without one handy, we move on. Do you hear as much about Mr. Helsodenk Nifkleskir as I do?”

“How can I know that, Ressi? Everyone says he rescued Desabas Aesyo, Narark Akard-Velgsin, and Drastlif's entire shipbuilding industry all at once, but what if you know even more? If you don't, I might have to find a new assistant.”

Dirant was permitted to keep his position. He had certainly heard about Miss Desabas's heroic struggle to stop the permit-yanking which slowed her departure so, and further about how Narark Akard-Velgsin supported her by requesting a favor from an associate of his. Helsodenk Nifkleskir may have been born in some Rikenlikneher state, but he navigated the shoals of Drastlif's bureaucracy as deftly as would a man born and raised under the expectation he would take a seat on the Permissive Council once he had reached the age of 30, attained a level of at least 20 in a class other than Warm Body, owned a home and a ship, and was selected to be head of his family after the retirement or death of his predecessor. If not better, since in addition to knowing people, the most important part of politics, he had read the relevant laws himself. Occasionally that mattered.

What he had also heard explained Helsodenk's acuity. It was from Onkallant he had heard it. “Mr. Helsodenk, he tells me, and while it is too much to expect honesty in every instance, everything I learn afterward supports it, is an Acrobat and, like many of that class, a lawyer. Formerly he was attached to the embassy here as a legal advisor during Mr. Delaosant's tenure and executed his duties with acumen deserving of envy from the rest of his profession. To do one job well is praiseworthy. To do two is often the opposite, for commonly the second is criminal in nature. So it was in the case of Mr. Helsodenk.”

“Ressi.” Takki's grim expression showed her distaste for the illegal. “Does Helsodenk Nifkleskir sound like a Rik name to you?” Maybe she loved crime after all and hated Greater Enloffenkir.

“The Helsodenk portion has a tinge of Rikness to it. I would guess the person carrying it to be a Rik if asked, though I would not be surprised to be told how mistaken I am. As to Nifkleskir, not at all. Those may be found in any tribe, I suppose.”

“I still haven't grasped it, but thank you.”

“Your interest is thanks enough, and therefore your stated thanks must put me in debt to you.”

“Oh, I really think it goes the other way. What was the crime, though? Something distasteful?”

“The avoidance of tariffs and flouting of certain regulations, actions which together constitute smuggling. It is perhaps third in popularity among all sports in Drastlif from what I am told, and of all crimes, only the illegal bearing of arms with an azure field is less blamed. Members of the Permissive Council themselves are said to dabble in it as an exercise to keep their minds and underlings as nimble as their morals. What made Helsodenk's operations insupportable was an incident in another country. I suppose Battlers know more about sio than Ritualists.”

Takki lifted a cracker from Dirant's plate and dipped it in her tea. “That's probably true, Ressi. You feed it to monsters, inject it, or rub it on them and they become as soft as this cracker. Sometimes the bounty issuer supplies it when we're supposed to capture instead of kill. Then we get yelled at if we actually use any. 'If it's that expensive, why did you buy it in the first place?' I want to ask, but that's part of the job. Oh, but I can't blame them too much, since we aren't always dependable just because we have a good class. I once worked with a Symbol Knight who sneaked some. He claimed it gave him a better insight into symbolism, but only after we forced him to throw it up. Until we did, he just kept saying gibberish a Distorter said was 'the profane language of souls fallen to ruin,' and she was an atheist. Then we all argued whether he had tried to kill himself or fell into that lake out of sio-caused obliviousness.”