When Mice Are Surrounded By Lions, Will They Not Forget They Are Mice?
Asajvridz was more than a fun name for foreigners to discuss. It was a town as well, and one where many Defiafis wishing to remove themselves from society for a month or two bought vacation homes. So many had done so, as it happened, that Asajvridz had become yet another social hub. At least there was amusement in that to console the early adopters, as well as rapidly rising property values.
Silapobenk decided to spend a full four days there amid its encouraging affluence before moving on quickly to the capital and from there back to Greater Enloffenkir. The employees spread out among the picturesque inns and grand hotels, and then into the grand hotels exclusively when those turned out to be cheaper than the inns. The very richest Defiafis prized picturesque retreats highly. Sometimes they pretended to work menial jobs there.
Dirant took a room in a hotel separate from anyone else in the company, which gave him an opportunity to immerse himself in Desurvyai chatter and perhaps increase his rank in it. Or so he predicted, but the next morning when he went in for breakfast, a foreign element was taking up space in the dining hall that Defiafi hotels possessed, unlike Adaban ones which clumped together all their services in one large lobby on the ground floor.
It consisted of Yumins, probably from Redrin. They would have stood out from the guests at other tables by their round, clean-shaven faces alone that boasted extravagant tans which the less-pale Survyais rarely matched, not to mention their straight hair that for most of them was brown of a nearly black sort. On top of that, there was fashion. They wore flat caps with small visors for the men and no visors for the women, knee-length shorts over leggings, and long coats that the men among them starched to present as rectangular a figure as possible while the women contrived to bunch theirs at the waist, all in the particular gray that distinguished Redrin servants.
Eleven of them sat or leaned against round tables together, and nine seemed to defer to two of them, a man and a woman of equal height. An observation much remarked upon in Greater Enloffenkir was that though Yumin men were nearly as tall as Adabans, Adaban women did not measure up to the typical Yumin. Multiple studies on height, weight, and other physical properties had come about because of that oddity and advanced humanity's understanding of its own form considerably.
When one of the grooms (for so Dirant guessed them to be based on having heard that was the most prestigious position the cruel Dvanjchtliv nobility of Redrin allowed the long-suffering Yumins to fill) noticed an Adaban enter, he nudged the other and said in Yumin, “There's today's missionary to tell us to throw off our Dvanjchtliv masters to peel apples for some Adaban ones instead, Eyanya.”
“I don't know, Hugal. What makes Adabans better than Dvanjchtlivs?” the woman asked.
“They have darker hair, so it isn't as obvious when the kid isn't theirs.”
“That's good for you, but how does it help me?”
“They have darker hair, so it isn't as obvious when the kid isn't your husband's.”
“That sounds splendid. We'll overthrow the Dvanjchtlivs as soon as I get married.”
“Oh, good. I'll tell him.” Hugal turned toward Dirant and said, still in Yumin, “We'll never help you, treason-stirrer!”
“Are you going to let him talk to your fiancé like that?” Dirant asked Eyanya.
Hugal stumbled back into the table. “They found a loophole! Forgive me, Master Audnauj, but the revolution has been decided.”
After that scene, the Yumins felt obliged to invite Dirant to sit with them. They were servants, as he had conjectured, of a Dvanjchtliv nobleman, Lord Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj. They all stared at him in anticipation when Hugal laGihnal, who was indeed a groom, told him that.
“Ah, I'm sorry. It is the custom of my people, I suppose, to laugh when we hear a Dvanj name. Here it is. Ha.”
The Yumins groaned, overcome by disappointment. “Well, what now?” Eyanya asked. “You were supposed to force us to defend our employer so that we could point to his noble carriage, his good looks, his generosity, his facility when it comes to saddles, his distressing lack of cunning, how handsome he is, and so on. We can't bring up that stuff on our own initiative, so you have to insult him.”
Dirant made a show of pondering the matter by hunching over the table and tracing lines with his finger unlikely to summon an owl sage. “It is a difficult task since I am unaware of a bad word said about him, but it seems to me, in all likelihood, he is overly interested in horses.”
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Hugal leaned his elbows on the table and pointed at Dirant with both hands. “I would tell Ostandyum himself if he asked that you must have grown up in the same stable as Master Audnauj. You've described him from top to bottom, except for his terrible taste in women. But you know, he has his good points too. You can remember them for yourself. I need to eat this spice that has some fish under it.”
Dirant poked his own just-delivered trout. “Though a recent arrival in this country, I was informed of this. The Defiafis, it is said, are convinced foreigners are quite incapable of handling the intense heat of their cuisine no matter the evidence to the contrary. Is it hot or mild in your opinion?”
Eyanya held up a fork filled with fish. “Watch and keep in mind that things are going pretty well for me. Good health, steady employment. Here.” She shoved the morsel in her mouth, jerked a bit in her chair, and started crying.
Dirant took the example seriously. “Have the instructional materials provided by the company at last misinformed me?” he wondered but did not say, as he was unwilling to criticize Stadeskosken in front of outsiders, even friendly ones. He tackled his trout at first with hesitation and then with puzzlement. “It's spicy. Somewhat. Chtrebliseuans would call it piquant, I'm sure.” The Yumins believed him to be putting on an act, but those were his true feelings. The expert was right again, which contrasted with many of his recent experiences. Perhaps it was a matter of genuine versus assumed expertise, or maybe Ritualists were simply unobservant.
Speaking of Redrins, the upper class made its entrance. Two men entered the dining hall, one of them clearly identifiable as Lord Audnauj by the quality of his garments and how well described he was by the attributes his servants had enumerated. He gave up a few inches to Dirant but by no means justified the dreadful label of short, and his tawny hair with its slight waves framed a face that had never been disfigured by an expression of deceit or any unworthy sentiment. Portraits of Dvanjchtlivs and illustrations of their historical feats always depicted them with thick and often curled mustaches, but Audnauj had nothing of the kind. Aside from that his dress looked conventional enough so far as the contemporary Adaban understood the habits of the Redrin nobility. He wore the embroidered knee-length coat that was buttoned high up but allowed to split below as well as a hat whose brim curved up on the sides and which featured a tuft of horsehair where most non-Dvanjchtlivs would affix either feathers or nothing.
The man with him was probably his number one servant, whatever Redrins called that position, being another Dvanjchtliv. He was taller even than Dirant to say nothing of his master, which proved Audnauj by implication to be the sort not to let that get to him. His wavy blond hair was tied in a ponytail and he had grown a thin, Defiafi-like mustache. His attire was the same as his master's but less so, buttons not as shiny and so on. He raised an eyebrow at the Adaban but made an introduction without any prompting or explanation from the Yumins.
“Hello, sir. This is a fine day to introduce Lord Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj.” He indicated the nobleman to his left with his right hand, which he held flat and perpendicular to his abdomen. “It will be finer when you are introduced.”
Hugal laGihnal hopped up straight and held his hand the same way except that it was his left, since he was to the left of Dirant. “Dirant Rikelta, sir.”
“Our meeting is a blessing for me,” Dirant added. He figured that sounded polite enough in any language, and it was something he knew how to say in Dvanj.
Audnauj bowed in the Dvanjchtliv manner, which outsiders might have called a curtsy were it not for the reputation for martial exploits of conquest and heroism attached to that tribe. He bent one knee and dipped his head, Dirant returned the courtesy with an Adaban upper-body bow, and they were not done yet. Eyanya esAhnsay had navigated herself to a position convenient for introducing the other man. “Chief Attendant Onzalkarnd Lakchorvu Evrandistraj.” He gave a deeper not-curtsy, Dirant gave a shallower bow along with another assurance that he felt blessed without delivering any comment on how familiar that name sounded, and at last they were done.
“Is breakfast still being served?” Audnauj asked. “I thought I would drop by the stables, and time got away from me a bit.” He either failed to notice the wry looks the Yumins shared with Dirant or considered them part of the servant compensation package.
It was still being served. He fell to eating and chatting with the new face and even with his servants, though they spoke in a much different way with him around. They used Dvanj for one thing. Also their attempts at reproducing the famed Yumin two-man comedy routines vanished like ghosts when the sun rises.
Dirant explained that he was with a respected commercial firm, Stadeskosken by the way, on a trading expedition through Pavvu Omme Os and Yean Defiafi to supply northerners with the highest-quality southern goods at reasonable prices, Stadeskosken, pressure your government to allow us entry, Stadeskosken. He was more subtle than that, he believed. It felt that way to him nevertheless.
“I'm here on business too, though the profit won't be in money. Not for me, at any rate.” Audnauj spoke to Dirant with as little formality and restraint as he would with a childhood companion. That genial manner of his made Dirant want to repay him by not attempting to overthrow the Redrin nobility and incorporate the country into Greater Enloffenkir either in whole or as a set of smaller states. Many back home wanted and expected to accomplish that soon. “Father, that's Count Blawgnu if the name means anything to you, is looking to erect a statue in a town of his that could use a bit of decorating. He's entrusted the arrangements to me. We've been told Asajvridz has a thriving art scene. In particular, there's a sculptor here who's mastered the depiction of the equine form.”
“And that is the subject of the prospective piece? It's a horse statue?”
Audnauj nodded vigorously, like a stallion. “That's right. A horse statue is just the thing every community needs. So I've been seeing the sculptor. She's even more amazing than the rumors said.” He drifted off, his mind elsewhere, while the Yumins nudged Dirant and kicked him under the table.