Or, The End Of The Affair
The rescuers were able to advance down the tunnel two abreast with room on the sides. As commodious as it may have been in that dimension, Silapobezor and Onzalkarnd both needed to duck, Dirant did the same out of an abundance of caution, Stansolt refrained from jumping, and the others suffered no inconvenience on account of that particular issue.
The provided lanterns did good work, and if the owners wanted to complain about their tools being taken without permission, the trespassers could respond with similar complaints about their Dvanjchtliv nobleman. The tunnel led in the direction of the town according to people who claimed to have a good sense for that sort of thing. It extended far beyond the house according to a partially overlapping group, far enough that Dirant was starting to consider what measures he might take to catch up to the convoy with his borrowed Silfour and Stansolt when the destination at last presented itself.
A vast and enigmatic chamber was the destination, a warehouse if it had been less decorated, filled with objets d'art and crates that likely contained more, not to mention racks of weapons, blueprints of various robbable buildings tacked to walls and pillars, and overstuffed folders on tables and in cabinets lined up against the walls or standing free and proud on the floor. The searchers crept to the opening, which did not sit on the floor as might be expected but rather terminated rather high in the air. A ladder offered a gentle way down even if another option was available to the daring. From there they were able to see a painting that was no portrait or landscape of the common type.
It appeared to be a reproduction of a report filed by the law enforcement officials of Yean Defiafi that consisted of a picture of the criminal exploded to marvelous size accompanied by a list of a few of his misdeeds. Robbery, kidnapping, causing public disturbances, fraud, conspiracy to commit fraud, conspiracy to bribe public officials to escape conviction for fraud. Those and more made up the misdeeds of internationally notorious criminal Glainai Gabas. And there, beneath the unrepentant face of Glainai Gabas, stood Glainai Gabas.
Any regular Defiafi could have stood in for him as far as his blue jacket, brown hair made straight by some product, and understated mustache, but few if any had the wherewithal to mimic his bearing which informed everyone that he knew he could accomplish anything he wanted and would reject any suggestion he should not. An actor would have put on his best sneer for the role, but Glainai Gabas's pure smile came only from the very heart of men sure they were doing nothing wrong. The man he was addressing often had a similar expression, but not then.
“I concede this must all seem a great misfortune to you now, Lord Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj, but don't you sometimes find you appreciate hardship more than gladder times later on, when you look back on both of an idle afternoon? I envy you wholly, since right now is a glad time indeed for me.” He spoke in precise Dvanj that might cause a native speaker to recall his tutor's lessons and blush at the carelessness with which he wielded his own language as an adult. “Dvanjchtlivs, whether from Chtrebliseu, Redrin, Noiswawau, or Swadvanchdeu where is the Dvan Plateau itself, are my favorite people. For a good reason, I contend. They will never, not once in the many times I pulled off this scheme, admit to having been kidnapped. Not during their captivity, not after the ransom is paid, and not on their deathbeds. Without the victim's cooperation, what can the janitors of the law do? No, there's no better job than to kidnap a Dvanjchtliv noble. For that I feel such warmth for you that I won't seek redress for the way you looked at my most intimate friend, Miss Desonn. The opposite! I will remove you to a secure location while I prepare the ransom demand. We will all be relieved to know you to be safe, and don't be afraid the magnitude of the ransom will understate your aristocratic value. Guide him thither, my fine rapscallions.” He gestured to his two thugs at his side, who began to steer Audnauj toward another tunnel.
Of course his rescuers had not stayed still during that monologue, but since they wanted to keep their movements as quiet as possible to avoid alarming the criminals, caution necessarily limited their speed. Afraid that he would lose sight of his lord before the group made it to the far side, Onzalkarnd produced Audnauj's saber which he had been carrying in the hope of reuniting it with its owner at the first opportunity and with a shout launched it to land with Picker-appropriate selectiveness in the kidnapping victim's hands.
Though bound at the wrists, Audnauj's fingers closed around the hilt and the thugs suffered for it. He slashed both of them while they were still amazed by a development so unfriendly to their interests and kept slashing until both fell to the ground according to the invariable custom of Small Fry. Audnauj turned to Glainai Gabas himself next, and since nothing he said could be understood because of the gag in his mouth, the rescuers were free to imagine as eloquent and fiery a speech as they wished.
“Won't this battle end before we get there?” Takki asked while she ran.
“I'm afraid it will,” Onzalkarnd replied. “Lord Audnauj's class is Jobber, you see.”
“Oh!”
Bad news indeed. Jobbers possessed unparalleled might against opponents who did not matter, but Glainai Gabas mattered if anyone did. He raised his cane and tapped a button that caused it to extend, and with that he poked Audnauj in the stomach and smacked him on the crown. Audnauj fell, not dead or even unconscious but nevertheless unable to prevent Gabas from escaping through a secret passage behind a tall clock he caused to swing aside.
Audnauj made it back up without help, freeing the rescuers to ask if he was unharmed aside from the cane thing, remove his gag and bonds, and smash the clock apart with brute Battler strength. “We all would have preferred to find the mechanism, but we're in a hurry, aren't we? Oh, I got a Clock Smasher ability I didn't know about.” Takki charged through. “What are these?” she yelled back. The area behind the clock, the slower rescuers and Audnauj discovered, was a depot for four-wheeled vehicles which evidently rolled on lengths of wooden planks that stretched far in two directions.
“These are carts used in mining operations,” the well-traveled Silapobezor informed them. “He's alone, so he must be going downhill. This way!” He removed a block under the wheels of a cart, pushed it till it got rolling, and jumped in. Stansolt hopped in with him. Dirant took the next and was joined by the two grooms, and as he looked behind he saw Audnauj, Onzalkarnd, and Takki mobilize a third.
The little car rolled down the tunnel, the second out of zero Dirant had expected to navigate over the entire course of his life. His lantern illuminated craggy walls sometimes broken by side passages. Those had planked tracks as well, and Dirant began to doubt they had a chance to catch Glainai Gabas. The criminal could turn off the main path in several places and they would never know. Then he realized something.
Stolen story; please report.
“So long as Lord Audnauj is safe, it is nothing to me if Glainai Gabas is caught. Why am I pursuing him? Underground, in the dark, in an ore hauler? Dvanjchtliv nonsense has swept me away.”
“The history of Redrin in one sentence,” Eyanya consoled him.
When the carts rolled in to a depot past which the tunnel slanted upward, the pursuers admitted Glainai Gabas had evaded them. “I'm sorry about that. The rogue deserves worse and the unsuspecting people he'll go after deserve better. Nothing for it, though. I have something more important to say.” Audnauj went on to thank his saviors both as a group and individually, listen while they protested it was nothing, and finally assure them he was very aware what a something it was. After all, he had almost been kidnapped.
“I think we must conclude you were kidnapped,” Dirant told him.
“No ransom was paid. Therefore, I wasn't kidnapped yet. But I almost was.” As specious as Audnauj's argument sounded, Dirant unconsciously recreated countless scenes from Redrin history by deciding not to bother arguing with a Dvanjchtliv aristocrat.
That done, the group, outmaneuvered by the villain yet mostly unconcerned about it, found a ladder that promised to facilitate upward progress. It in fact returned them all the way to the surface and ended in a room that looked far less like a criminal lair than the underground vault where Audnauj had been held. Instead of aids to and profits from skulduggery, blocks of stone the size of a man or bigger were scattered around. The front parts of horses projected from some of them as if the animals were leaping out of some primordial mass as the gods shaped it into all the creatures of the world, its beasts and its birds and its fish.
“This is her studio. I mean Desonn Sheglei's.” Audnauj reported that in too morose a voice for anyone not to wish he was wrong in his suspicion as to her complicity in the plot. Granted that for the rest of them, “immediate certainty” described the situation better than “suspicion,” but still.
There was nothing else to do that night except try to alert law enforcement, fail because they kept regular hours there in Yean Defiafi, and separate. “I've got to shop around for another sculptor now.” Audnauj sighed, but not over that. And not over Desonn Sheglei, either. “I hate to go on with only my servants. They'll be just as terrible . . . ly helpful as always, but variety in the company one keeps, you know. And everything else. Cuisine and so on. Clocks.”
Taught by experience that the Yumin problem was insuperable until Audnauj was willing to stoop to the deceit of pretending to study a language he already knew, Dirant made what he could of the situation based on his own interests. “No sentiment could tend more toward human flourishing, Lord Audnauj. It's a shame therefore that even such a trustworthy outfit as Stadeskosken, quick and reliable like an otter, is forbidden from operating in Redrin except through local intermediaries. And those transactions are subject to strict scrutiny, no less.”
“You may be right at that.”
Dirant saw the dispirited Audnauj off and wished him success in his affairs. Next he sent his company men off with assurances he would be sure to tell Silapobenk how satisfactory their performance had been.
“The troublesome part will be to do so without facetiousness. Worse, it is Mr. Silapobenk's perception of facetiousness that counts, and you must understand our long acquaintance will bias him toward certain interpretations.”
“It's simple, Mr. Dirant. Start off with your report, then become facetious later. The change in tone will be evident then.”
“That seems to me a most promising approach, Mr. Stansolt. I will attempt it. Good night.” The two soon-to-be-former subordinates left for their own lodgings while Dirant headed for Silone's, accompanied by a young woman aglow with the joy of another mystery solved. Being a gentleman, he did not neglect speaking to her while they walked.
“I'm prevented from saying you did a good job by the fact that you are not an employee of Stadeskosken. It would sound condescending. I must instead thank you for the privilege of your company.”
Takki managed a moving curtsy, a thing effortlessly accomplished though rarely practiced because unnecessary in most social settings. “Thank you for inviting me. Now excuse me, please, but what was that about otters? Are they the byword in Kitslof for swiftness and reliability? I don't think they have that kind of reputation back home.” Takki had a bounce both in her step and her voice as she asked.
“If they are, it is only by association with Stadeskosken.” Dirant glanced at her as he often did and saw a blank look. “Stadeskosken. Otter Goods.”
Takki converted her next bounce into a genuine hop. “I learned Adaban (Fluent) just now! And because of otters! Otter Goods!” She began to laugh.
“Is it so funny as that?”
“Oh, I'm not behaving this way to mock you or your company. It's just, Otter Goods? Yes. That's it.” She nodded. “I've decided. Your adult name is Ressi. Ressi Rikkelta Dirant is what you'll go by the next time you visit Pavvu Omme Os. Dilrant would sound more local, but no, it doesn't fit you at all.”
“I take it ressi means otter.”
“You're fast like an otter today, Ressi.”
Dirant tried to moderate his smiling that was the clear result of an infection, though with no idea how he fared in that or why Takki found otters so amusing. “Is what our foremost experts say true about the etiquette of using each of the names the Jalpi Peffu have?”
“Oh, probably. I would have called you by your adult name before, but you didn't have one. And the other way is impossible. Millim. I hate it.”
“What does it mean?”
“A salt mine.” Dirant snorted at that. “Well I didn't pick it! Other people give it to you. I can't complain since I just burdened you with 'otter,' but anyway, I don't want you to call me that. Maybe it would be all right if I went by Atsa instead?”
“Atsa.”
The bounce abandoned Atsa's step so abruptly that she stumbled, and at the same time more than her hair turned red. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting, and in a meek voice said, “I know what I just said and I don't mean to take anything back. I really don't. But, um, a lot of events happened today and we're all very tired, so um . . .”
It was a little late in Dirant's opinion to pretend to be exhausted after all that hopping, but a gentleman could overlook a few details. “I suppose it would be unwise for me to presume too much as to the etiquette of Pavvu Omme Os from a little reading, though I assure you the pamphlet is high quality. I suspect you intend to keep calling me Ressi though, Takki.”
She collected herself and resumed skipping alongside Dirant. “Oh, I do so intend, and don't be surprised if I don't tell anyone what it means, as a little joke.”
“That sounds better for me, for all that never before had I thought otters to be especially humorous. They are a noble creature full of piety, as I have discovered.”
Eventually even the paths of those two diverged. Takki retired to her hotel while Dirant continued and found Silone waiting in the lobby. The boss was looking over some papers that Dirant presumed had to do with accounting until he came closer, at which point he realized they were manuscripts. “Are these candidates for the publishing wing?”
“They were before I read them. Well?”
Dirant checked to make sure he was standing straight like a man who respected others and deserved to be respected in return. “In cooperation with Lord Audnauj's retinue and Millim Takki Atsa, we rescued him from an attempted kidnapping. He insists on the 'attempted' modifier. The subordinates you assigned to me both performed vital roles.”
“Excellent. Did you?”
Dirant saw his chance to put Stansolt's recommendation to the test. He slouched a bit and dropped the precise Kitslof enunciation he had used for the first part of the report in favor of a more Todelky sort of thing tinged with Hewekerisms. “In the finest traditions of leadership, I did nothing. Ah, until afterward, when I drew attention to Redrin trade restrictions and their effect on Stadeskosken specifically.”
“As it should be. Now you must go to bed to be up in time.” Silone looked up at Dirtwo. “If you are able to sleep.”
“I fear it unlikely.” At that, Silone engaged him in business talk sufficiently boring that all the day's excitement was forgotten and rest seemed welcome.