Can There Be A Weaker Color Than Purple, Which Stains Once And Never Can Be Set Right? Let Us Coat Ourselves In Black, Gentlemen, And Mind No Blemish!
The discussion turned to non-personal news for a short time, such as the agreement between several GE states and Stegzi to pursue an anti-pirate initiative. Many in Redrin feared that to be a excuse to gather ships in preparation for a strike against their naval facilities in Lesser Redrin, or the Lesser as they called it. Onzalkarnd questioned how the alleged plotters intended to do so without starting a war, or if they judged themselves mighty enough to wage it, why they needed to engage in subterfuge in the first place. Those arguments convinced Audnauj that those Adabans must be all right after all.
“I think we worry too much about Grenlof. Sivoslof and Flegestetnar are annoying, granted, but they've always helped us against Swadvanchdeu and Noiswawau as they promised. The current war down there has made us all forget how vital that is, but once that's over we'll be happy for their assistance before too long.”
Reassured that he might not be such a big problem after all, Dirant parted with the Redrin crowd on friendly terms and went to work. After some physical labor of kind only a Ritualist could do, evidently, he toured the town with some coworkers and an open-minded Omme, or rather a Jalpi Peffu since he was no longer doing business in Pavvu Omme Os.
He walked back toward his hotel in an evening hour when some light from the sun still illuminated shining Yean Defiafi, since working days made demands on his sense of responsibility as far as the hours he kept. The sight of public stables on the street arrested him. He noticed then that the building was rectangular as he was used to, but the horses poked their heads out of round openings above the doors. The refusal of the Defiafis to give up on their aesthetics no matter the circumstances inspired him.
“Not too bad, are they? Boats are more the thing around here, but if you can buy up a few breeding heroes from your neighbors, why not, eh?” Lord Audnauj and his chief attendant were also captivated by the sight, if for different reasons.
So calming was that Redrin noble's aspect that Dirant felt no awkwardness in the sudden encounter. He still maintained propriety of course, and he tried to adopt slightly more Dvanjchtlivy speech patterns in order to accommodate the other party. “I'm aware I can't outdo the judgment of the Redrin nobility in this area, Lord Audnauj.”
“Prefer to use your Discernment for other things, I see. We each have our roles to play, eh? Enough about that. How about you dine with us this evening if you haven't yet, Mr. Dirant? I promise I'll talk about something besides horses, or if I don't, the others will.”
The invitation surprised him, as did Audnauj's awareness of both his own peccadilloes and GE forms of address. Dirant was a non-noble, a chance acquaintance, and an Adaban, in increasing weight of reasons for a Redrin aristocrat not to desire his company. Lord Audnauj perceived that, sidled a little closer, and lowered his voice. “You'd be helping me out if you accepted. More, I'd like it if you spent time with my servants. It's this way. The Yumins, we love them of course, but we're afraid they have some outmoded notions. They have this idea that no Dvanjchtlivs bother to learn their speech. It's true Onzalkarnd outright refuses, but in my family, Grandfather was the last one not to speak both growing up, and even he has a bit of Yumin in his bags now.”
“Ah.” Dirant thought he saw the problem. “And they talk among themselves . . .”
“In distressingly candid terms, yes. I wish I'd said something to them earlier. I fear it's gone too far now. But if an outsider's around, one who knows Yumin, well, won't they have a pinch of reserve? I tell you, this morning was a great relief for me, and it's you I have to thank for it.”
Audnauj finished his pitch while wearing an expression so wishful that to refuse would have required Sticktoitiveness of at least 5,000 and a correspondingly low Tit-for-Tat. Dirant, more moderate in both stats, accepted.
Dirtwo's new social circle pleased Silone when he heard about it. “Now maneuver this Lord Audnauj into a position of authority where he can open Redrin's borders to us,” he said in such a way that communicated to his brother that sure he was kidding, but only because he considered the prospect implausible for the time being, and he should keep in mind tomorrow is another day.
Dirant learned more about the Redrin contingent over the next couple of days, including the exciting fact that the chief attendant's class was Picker and the dispiriting one that he did not have the Edition Freeze ability or any inclination to acquire it. He also learned from the servants all the stuff Audnauj had hoped they would stop talking about with an outsider around.
Stolen story; please report.
“It's just a special talent some people have. I wouldn't be surprised if the master has it under General Abilities. Attraction to the Wrong Type (Advanced).” Eyanya shook her head in feigned despondence undercut by her wide smile.
“Now what do you mean by that?” Hugal asked, not for his own benefit but rather for the Adaban audience. “Speculators? Pursuers of dangerous occupations? The unhinged?”
“Did you forget social climbers, incurable coquettes, and the self-absorbed? It doesn't matter if you did, because he never does. He collects them as other men do . . . hm . . .”
“Horse statues?” Dirant suggested.
“That's it,” both grooms confirmed.
“Listen to me, young man.” If Eyanya was older than Dirant the difference could be no more than a few years, much like Hugal and Audnauj, but the scenario required that the audience ignore that. “I've been in Master Audnauj's service for a good long time now, more than a year, and I've seen in that stretch more defective women than I dreamed existed in the entire world. His family and loyal servants have kept him from taking too much damage, so far, but it's like a siege against endless Obenec hordes. The upside is that the next time you feel the stirrings of romance, run her by me first. I'm an expert in recognizing the signs through sheer repetition.”
Hugal interrupted. “Or, better yet, run her by me.”
Dirant spread his hands. “To what purpose? She would take one look and keep running.”
The Yumins also informed him of the true reason why they would never prefer Greater Enloffenkir to their current lords. “You'll make us learn Adaban, when we'd much rather listen to you speak Yumin like you're nervous about the interview for a job you need badly.”
“What's the cause of his financial distress, Hugal?”
“Let me see.” Hugal looked over Dirant with a critical attitude. “I have it. He became a Ritualist. They get paid in soup and bread crusts.”
“That must be it!”
That interested Dirant. “Is that how things are in Redrin?”
“Of course. Isn't it in Grenlof?”
“I'll never be ungrateful for my salary again. I must try to have it increased. Meanwhile, without making any accusations since I'm unsure of the defamation laws in this country, what about this sculptor?”
One of the maids spoke out of pure conviction with no regard for possible legal consequences. “Desonn Sheglei, to put it politely, is no good. I'm not sure what exactly is wrong with her, but it's true.” Eyanya gave that analysis her full endorsement. Hugal also agreed with the addition of one essential provision.
“We mean that morally. Physically is something else. I understand completely the master's attraction, but I only hope that if I were in the same situation . . .”
“You won't be,” everyone assured him.
“That I would listen to the excellent counsel of my well-wishing friends and brilliant servants.”
Audnauj's plan had failed nearly as completely as could be imagined. Even when Dirant attempted to insert Millim Takki Atsa into the mixture as a more proper outsider and a lady as well, the servants simply began to teach her their language starting with the worst words. She appreciated the opportunity to broaden her horizons, but that did nothing for Lord Audnauj. At least Dirant usually managed to redirect the conversation when his lordship was present before it became spicier than the food. For instance, how was the statue thing going, and how complex could a statue be?
“It's quite simple as far as commissioning the work of course. I wouldn't have spent as much time here as I have if it weren't . . . if I didn't want to make sure the vision for it has been gotten across to the sculptor with no possibility of mischance. Ahem.” One of the Yumins began to mutter a smart remark, but Dirant imposed on their new familiarity to kick the man in the shin under the table. “There's a second aspect though. We're trying something that's never been done before, and I'm excited to have it in my charge. Have you any knowledge of eardron, Mr. Dirant?”
“Sometimes crates stamped with Redrin markings and labeled 'eardron wind chime' pass through the warehouse. As those do not require the Preservation Ritual, they and I never have occasion to relax together.”
“That's it. Eardron is a quirky little metal found only in the Lesser, that's Lesser Redrin I mean, which is on an island if you don't know where that is. It isn't good for much, apparently, because it's brittle, doesn't keep an edge, just pretty bad overall, but the special thing it has is that it changes colors. Well, tint? Shade? There's a term for it. It just sort of shimmers in response to sound. People like to use a bit of it for trinkets, like those wind chimes.” One of the Yumins held up a pocket watch and another a knife, the back and handle of which were plated in something that did indeed shift its shining surface among coppery, silvery, and tin-esque while Audnauj talked. “I'll tell you this, the interior decorators hate it. Colorists and that type. They complain about how they can't coordinate things properly if one of the key elements keeps changing. We listen to them, but the Yumins, well, it's as you can see. So when it came to prettying up the square, Father wondered why we shouldn't do something to please the Yumins who would be looking at it, by and large. There it was, the idea for a magnificent statue fully covered in eardron. The hope is that the way it reacts to the wind and chatter in the square will make it look almost like it's running, you know, all the glorious muscles working and that. But the company that produces the stuff indicates there's a problem that could use some oversight, so I'll be off to the Lesser soon.”
Then the servants started to speculate about the depths of the Dvanjchtlivs' attachment to horses, and Dirant had to redirect the conversation again. That was getting harder and harder. He considered trying to work in Stansolt Gaomat because he spoke both Yumin and Dvanj with a facility enviable by natives, but bringing a Sivoslofer into a Redrin milieu seemed an unjustifiable act of rashness. The best Dirant could do was get the Yumins talking about the eardron knickknacks their grandparents collected. A universal phenomenon, as it turned out.