A Proper Parting Raises The Hairs On The Arms And Tortures Sweetly The Submissive Mind, But Not All Are So
On the fourth day, the Yumins were no longer interested in eardron, dangerous women, or anything the slightest bit fun, and neither did Onzalkarnd view everything from a dispassionate perspective as was his wont. Dirant discovered all that in the morning when he came down from his room. Servants running up and down or in and out paused at the base of the stairs to report to Hugal and Eyanya while Onzalkarnd paced about and engaged any guest or hotel employee who walked by in a low-voiced conversation.
He approached Dirant when the Adaban at last left the stairs after pausing to view the scene and, in a tone more deferential than Dirant had ever heard from him, asked, “Mr. Dirant, have you seen Lord Audnauj today? When was the last time?”
“The last time was dinner yesterday. Has something untoward occurred?”
“He's missing, Mr. Dirant. We can't find him for anything.” The quaver in Onzalkarnd's typically steady voice indicated the matter was serious.
“A worrying affair. What are the details?”
If only someone had any. All the servants knew was that Lord Audnauj retired to his room which he did not share and had been seen by nobody since. “I thought he seemed a little peppier than usual, but only a little. He's been peppier before for sure. I already asked if he received any messages, but it seems not.” Hugal shrugged.
“Not that any of us saw,” Eyanya corrected. “The master does go without his entourage at times.”
“Then what must be done is to look for witnesses in town. What do the authorities say?” Dirant asked.
“They said.” Onzalkarnd took a moment to collect himself. “What they said was that it was a concerning report they would certainly keep in their minds. What they implied was that Lord Audnauj, of all people, must be off having fun somewhere as if he were some Survyaian younger son with nothing more expected of him than to waste away in time to avoid serious scandal by filling an early grave.”
“We could have used that manpower, too,” Hugal said. “We have everyone who speaks Desurvyai looking, which is two of us out of twelve servants altogether.”
Dirant, regardless of his power, was at least a man. “I'll ask around as much as I can. I wish it were not so, but we must leave tomorrow.”
“Anything you can do is appreciated,” Onzalkarnd told him, and because of that Dirant wanted to do a little more. At the very least, perhaps he might get the whole day to search since his rituals had become unnecessary.
He went straight to Silapobenk Rikelta, the boss, the guy in charge. “I have a startling request,” he said, and made it.
“That is startling,” Silone admitted. “A chance to make a Redrin noble indebted to us. How must we act to take advantage? I have it. Mr. Silapobezor! Mr. Stansolt!” The named employees heeded him and approached. “I am putting you under Mr. Dirant for today or possibly longer. At his discretion, you may be forced to catch up with us.”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Dirtwo!”
“I couldn't have done it without you, Silfour.” As serious as the situation was, Dirant was still human. “What increase in salary does this promotion carry?”
“None. Furthermore, you may just be out of a job if you handle this badly. Such as by dawdling.” With that Silapobenk dismissed the three.
Dirant explained the background to his subordinates and elaborated on what he wanted, starting with a description of Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj and admonitions to stop laughing. He then repeated the briefing for Millim Takki Atsa when she dropped by. Perhaps it was the scent of a mystery that drew her.
“I really do understand that I'm useless here, but please take me along,” she begged. Not that Dirant intended to refuse her, but seeing her on the verge of tears, a condition she later denied, naturally he added her to his personnel.
Dirant coordinated with Onzalkarnd, Hugal, and Eyanya in the search for witnesses. The Survyais they asked about Lord Audnauj and any couriers who might have delivered a message to him cooperated to the best of their capability, as they were always happy to be part of a spontaneous event. No clue emerged. The servants began to despair.
When their moping was translated for Takki, she gave them the gift of cheer. “Did you expect something yet? Someone up late enough to have seen him at the time we want is probably in bed right now.”
“I'm more heartened to hear that than dismayed at how dumb I am for not thinking of it,” Hugal said, his rising spirits reflected in his returning flippancy.
The investigators went to work after lunch with renewed enthusiasm that was rewarded with meaningful results. Silapobezor found a couple strolling down a back street. The two had done the same on the day before, upon which occasion they had noticed a handsome, honest-looking Dvanjchtliv being approached by a courier. The man was handed a message he read and immediately tore up with a smile on his face. The couple knew what that meant. They gave each other a meaningful look and felt all the world was in love, and that was how they remembered the incident.
Of course they could describe the courier. He was a fellow, Survyai as might be expected, a tad on the shorter side, who perhaps ought to have had greater concern for his personal appearance. His mustache exhibited lamentable droopiness, his hair was getting unruly as it progressed a little too far down his neck, and his jacket that was gray in the servile style of Redrin adopted by some employers wanted a substitute button or two. After wringing as detailed description as he could get from them, Silapobezor reported back.
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Onzalkarnd gathered the servants along with the four external volunteers. “The plan is to sweep the town in the direction the witnesses said the courier went. I wish for everyone to remember that he may well be wearing different clothes, as courier work is part-time for many.”
“It's also an excellent cover for someone wishing not to be examined closely.”
“Mr. Stansolt. Are you suggesting Lord Audnauj's disappearance may be the work of a criminal gang?”
Stansolt Gaomat answered in a distracted tone while he patted himself down and adjusted various unseen items on his person. “It's suggested itself to everyone already, has it not? But seeing as no one wants to say so aloud, I won't put myself forward as the first.”
The searchers spread out, each keeping within sight of his two neighbors when possible, ready to throw up three fingers upon seeing the purported courier or five for Audnauj himself. They tried to cover ground and look inconspicuous at the same time, but unfortunately, none of them had any idea how to do that except for Stansolt. He admired the buildings, asked directions, checked out stalls permitted for complex legal reasons to operate outside the market proper, and sat on benches and the sides of fountains only to hurry up when a clock chimed as if a lady were waiting for him, sighing perhaps.
Street traffic thinned between lunch and dinner, and even more so in the part of town they subjected to investigation. People who needed to work lived there. There was, however, one man who loitered outdoors in no hurry either to please an employer or pursue a home-based occupation, ghostwriting duel challenges as an example, for all that his shabby shirt hung over pants which the fastidious might call “the wrong size.” Yet for all his lounging, he did not seem the sort who took life easy. He was alert and ready for battle according to the account Battler Millim Takki Atsa gave after she backed off and signaled to the others.
“We ought to be prepared for a scene,” Onzalkarnd warned. The Yumins shifted their knives into accessible positions, Dirant reminded himself that the word was loojweirloo, Silapobezor prepared to do whatever Explorers did in fights, Stansolt slipped away entirely, and Takki was always ready for battle. Onzalkarnd judged his squad to be ready and advanced to confront the target.
“Excuse me, sir. Yesterday, was it you who . . .” Somewhere between “excuse” and “who,” the courier dashed in the opposite direction from the Dvanjchtliv as fast as Yumin armies used to do. That was how the Adabans looked at it, anyway. The Yumins might have offered a different interpretation of certain historical events if asked.
The searchers pushed away the few startled Defiafis on the street and ignored confused shouts from open doors and windows to pursue the quarry as he raced through the winding back streets with the inevitable result that they completely lost him. They slowed and began to mill about in the middle of the street when their failure became difficult to avoid acknowledging, but for a moment only.
“This way,” a familiar voice called out. They saw, halfway down a narrow path between buildings none of them had realized was a path because of how cluttered it was with boxes and sacks of things that probably ought to be taken out of town before the smell became unpleasant, a fence. On one side was the courier who was seconds away from making it over, seconds he was denied by, on the other side, Stansolt Gaomat. He waved.
The grooms took possession of the captive, firmly but gently since he might have been guilty of nothing worse than giving in to exercise fads which advised running hard between slower jogging sessions. Dirant praised his underling for really going above and beyond. “That was a superb accomplishment, and I will absolve you of the charge of boasting if you tell us how you went about it.”
Stansolt shook out his hands that had a little too much criminal Defiafi on them for his liking. “It was nothing more than a result of observation. In Greater Enloffenkir, you would run into a crowd if you were chased, correct? That's the natural course. It works well because of the general similarity of dress. Here, where everyone takes pains to appear distinct, I guessed a runner would prefer to make an escape through the disordered infrastructure. That guess led me to travel the back roads and narrows while orienting myself by the commotion, and the result is as you see.”
That made sense. Dirant Rikelta, as a typical student and commercial Ritualist, had simply never been in a position such that it would be helpful to formulate models of likely escape behavior before, or to be compelled to suspect what he suddenly did suspect. Whether it was his Discernment, Receptivity, or sense of inferiority, the anxiety the Pavvu Omme Os officials claimed to feel about letting spies smuggle themselves into their neighbor via trade missions came to his mind. He glanced at Silfour and imagined his brother's expression reflected a similar internal state. Well, that was a problem for Yean Defiafi or some other country. If the thrilling revelation about Stansolt Gaomat's true occupation was not an invention of an exercised mind, which it certainly was, as he reminded himself.
Meanwhile, Onzalkarnd's attempts to extract the courier's story met superficial success. “I don't like to say who gave me any particular commission out of a natural concern for the client's privacy. I'm sure working ladies and gentlemen such as you understand. Still, if what you say is true, what is a little discomfort? It is nothing. My information, as much as I can tell without embarrassment, is this. I was picked out for some reason, the favor of the gods? To carry a message for a man who is overwhelmingly charismatic and influential; it is unnecessary to linger on how wealthy he is and what I was paid for this trifling service. He was most insistent that he not be identified, and money has a persuasive force quite out of proportion to its mere physical weight and size, I have always found. I hope that when I assure you my one-time patron would never be involved in any project but the highest type worthy of kings or the one or two honest priests in the world, you will accept my word as conclusive on that topic.”
“I don't know what he's saying, but he's lying about it,” Battler Millim Takki Atsa informed the group in Adaban.
“I know what he's saying. He's a liar,” Battler Stansolt Gaomat confirmed, also in Adaban.
Onzalkarnd took their opinions under consideration. “Sir, there is a rumor going around in the Battler community that a portion of what you have told us lacks something as to its veracity. We will understand each other better if I tell you frankly that I believe it. What is your purpose in inventing this tale?”
The liar tugged his collar. “That? Simply a way to pass the time.”
Clouds of white smoke burst into being all around them, filling the narrow side path with fright and anarchy. When the fumes cleared, the Yumins who had been restraining the suspect held nothing but scraps of his clothing and also him. “Dolmellro, they didn't let go,” he complained to his associate.
“I'm more aware of that than my composure can handle, Hiesonna,” said the associate, who was in the grasp of Takki and Stansolt. “I don't think it's sportsmanlike to bring Battlers into an amusing little job like this one. They take everything too seriously.”