They Are Quite Wrong Who Imagine A Domicile To Take Its Shape From Its Owner's Preferences, For More Often Do His Habits Conform Themselves To Its Eccentricities

“There is the estate of Banviai Bantas, a place both resplendent and secluded, just as the rumors report. Again, I have nothing but praise for my subordinate Mr. Stansolt, and nothing in the way of desire to hear exactly the methods he employed in interrogating those two men.” Dirant shook Stansolt's hand while Takki, Onzalkarnd, Hugal, and Eyanya wondered if they were supposed to clap. Adabans were inscrutable. They waited for Silapobezor's reaction, saw none in particular outside of that odd look he kept giving Stansolt, and decided not to worry about it.

“Everyone is gratified to be recognized for one's talents,” Stansolt said. “There was regrettably no real time for a proper interrogation. I simply interviewed genuine couriers as to whether they knew of anyone employing these men. Banviai Bantas was the name that came up.”

Banviai Bantas. Survyai names had started to sound funnier to Dirant than Dvanj ones, but not enough to reduce him to indignity. As for the man himself, he was known to be one of the affluent Defiafis who kept a second, third, or sometimes fifth home in or, as in this instance, near Asajvridz. He never visited town personally, and while he entertained often when at that residence, his guests were invariably out-of-towners. All that made him one of the more enigmatic seasonal inhabitants. That fact attracted some gossip, though the lack of scandal repulsed more.

Trees that brought forth assorted fruits and nuts screened the house, which boasted the grandest dome of all: a small hill, partially excavated to make room for the rural dwelling and its windows framed by creeping ivy that never grew but rather was fashioned from copper and gold. Millim Takki Atsa admired the innovative Defiafi techniques. “I'm not sure if it's tasteful or gaudy, but I think it's beautiful. By the way, I don't see any regular domestic activity, so this is probably a front for a sinister operation. What's the house's name?”

Onzalkarnd was glad to speak on domicile-related subjects, though the cultural barrier sometimes interfered. “I'm not sure I understand you, miss. Houses don't have names.”

“Of course they do. What's the name of your house, Mr. Dirant?”

“It's only honesty that pushes me to admit it lacks one. So. Onzalkarnd and Mr. Silapobezor will remain outside to spot. Mr. Silapobezor was to circle around the back, but . . .”

“And I will do so. There may be a passage through the hill. Look at all that money that went into this complex.”

“You're correct of course. Our Battlers and Small Fry will enter, and I will follow them, use the Fascination Ritual if necessary, and exit afterward before I become a liability. That is understood?”

Hugal answered. “That part is. I also understand why I'm here, but I want people to have to say it out loud.”

“You accepted your fate as a minor obstacle for your master's enemies the moment you chose the Small Fry class,” Stansolt said. There was no malice in it or much of any emotion, as his basket-hilted straight sword had all his attention during the pre-battle checkup.

“I think it's unfair to hold me to a decision I was only able to make because I had under 40 Discernment.”

“Had?” Eyanya asked.

“Have.”

“Ah, and you must therefore agree your judgment ought to be subordinated to ours, since our Discernment is higher.” Dirant's argument seemed unanswerable, but he had underestimated the grooms.

“Now that 'ours' is curious, isn't it, Hugal?”

“It sure is. Battlers have 42 minimum. Battlers have. Battlers.”

“Battlers.”

Hugal and Eyanya threatened to keep that up until everyone thought better of going inside without a more reliable force, one possible to muster only with the cooperation of the Asajvridz municipal government, which maintained its indifference toward the entire affair. Leadership demanded that Dirant do something regardless of his discomfort, and he did.

Ritualist

Priest of Holzd

LV 7 410/1000

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HP 247

Muscle 35 (+1)

Coordination 43 (+4)

Verve 42 (+3)

Sticktoitiveness 55 (+4)

Discernment 68 (+4)

Gumption 25 (+2)

Tit-for-Tat 42 (+1)

Receptivity 87 (+6)

Panache 45 (+3)

Though unable to make out the priest part, the rest of the group was impressed. The Yumin grooms succumbed to a silence born of awe at the smug Ritualist's considerable stats, not to mention the aura of pride emitted by Takki for some reason. They stared at the flashed status, at each other, and shook their heads. “I'm sorry,” Eyanya said. “You don't qualify for Small Fry.”

“Not even close.” Hugal sighed.

“What high spirits you show in the face of unfavorable reality. Your bravery is something else. Battlers, if you will.” At Dirant's request, the two seekers of truth, or one of them since Stansolt had never expressed an opinion on the true purpose of his class to Dirant's knowledge, much less one that agreed with Takki's, charged across the front lawn from the trees to the door, weapons in hand and eyes alert. Then Stansolt knocked.

He waited half a minute, knocked again, waited, and knocked. In accordance with the ancient law universally accepted in the lands of the Adabans and related tribes, the visitors claimed for themselves any territory the owner failed to defend. “Bust it down,” Dirant ordered.

Mr. Banviai's door resisted Takki's halberd no better than Hewwikke's had. “I just found out there's a Door Smasher ability,” she remarked as she stepped through the splinter-rich gash in the door. The foyer beyond it welcomed guests with the allure of being surrounded by wealth. There were suits of armor, including a pair identical to that worn by Kelnsolt Aradetnaf's Armor Giant, vases glazed by masters, a chandelier that raised its candle-hoisting limbs over every part of the ground floor, and paintings Takki recollected as being reported as stolen from famous collections.

What grabbed Dirant's attention was the way floor tiles of unlike sizes, shapes, and colors formed enthralling designs in the center of the chamber before the grand staircase. To be technical, what grabbed his attention was his Ritual Judgment. “Refrain from stepping there. It's an incomplete ritual. The trigger for its completion is likely the addition of celebrants.”

“Its purpose is what?” Stansolt asked.

Dirant kept firm to his policy of projecting leader-like confidence and accordingly answered, “It's impossible to know,” rather than, “I have no idea.” Both statements held nothing but unimpeachable truth. To choose between them resembled ordering at a Defiafi restaurant where every dish was recommended and only presentation distinguished them.

Warned by that, the rescue party searched the palace while keeping an eye out for signs of traps such as the wire Stansolt cut, the pressure plate Takki marked with a polished stone from a bag she kept for sling-related reasons, and a steel beam which fell on the grooms.

“Never before did I wish to be shorter than you, Eyanya.”

“I have wonderful news for you, Hugal. These bumps will make us both an inch taller.”

Takki slapped some chunks of meat she had for injury-related reasons on their heads. “Hold that there. If it doesn't hurt too much, can you tell us how much HP you lost?”

“80 or so,” Hugal reported after that was translated for him.

“These traps aren't deadly so much as ways to stall for time, just like what the courier did. I think we're dealing with criminals who prefer flight to resistance. Does that sound right to everyone?”

Takki's conclusion relieved some of the tension everyone except she and Stansolt felt, but all remained cautious as they searched the house. To no result. The furniture was in good repair, dust had reigned for a short time only, and no one was there.

“That's just what we want. We are free to search in earnest.” Stansolt Gaomat went to work tapping walls, stomping on floors, pulling books out of the shelves, forcing statues to pivot, and similar operations, all with swiftness and confidence that implied he had done so before. Takki and the grooms imitated him less adroitly, while Dirant left for a moment to gather up Onzalkarnd and Silfour to help inside.

“Hey, that painting was reported stolen from a gallery in Swadvanchdeu,” Silfour noted when he entered. “And that one's from Sedoglai Dolinyan. I don't remember anything about a reward, but likely there is one. Are all of these objects stolen, do you think?”

“Probably so. The floor tiles are however an original.” Dirant warned them about the ritual and, more than that, decided to disfigure the composition, since he was by then sure that either Banviai Bantas deserved the property damage or else he had already been put out of the way by some scoundrel and would not mind a little tile removal. If he was alive at all, though Dirant hated to contemplate that possibility and its implications for Audnauj's current condition.

The house, while long when viewed from the front, hewed to the teachings of modesty as far as height and depth. With two floors and only a few rooms between the front and rear, a thorough search took not quite so long as might have been feared. On the other hand, Stansolt Gaomat alone had practice in thorough searches and needed to cover the entire house on his own. So he did.

First he found a stairway behind a door designed to be difficult to distinguish from a simple closet wall which gave access to a hidden basement. Next, hoarding all the accomplishments available, much like one of the goslikenar performers who raised such objections when playwrights attempted to add more singers to the cast, he discovered a panel in the basement floor through which the rescue party passed to find not a second basement or a cubby for storing pickled vegetables, but rather a tunnel kept nearly as immaculate as the house above.

“It's even been dusted, possibly within the week. The month at least. And look at these niches! They're placed at regular intervals and have lanterns in them and these other things. What are they? Ah, if they aren't smoke bombs like the ones that henchman wasted, I'll be very surprised.” Silapobezor was having the time of his Explorer life, and Dirant felt heartened as well.

“This new evidence supports the idea Lord Audnauj was transported away from the house before we found it and not simply, well, done away with.”

“I do hope you're right,” Onzalkarnd said.