Some Claim To Experience Such A Phenomenon, But There Is Ample Reason To Doubt Its Existence
“Ah, and is Mr. Helsodenk a friend of yours, of the Stanops, or simply a business associate?”
“Let's combine the two and say he was a business associate of Uncle's some time ago. The Eizeur worried he wasn't remembered fondly and asked me as sole guerdon for the service he did me that I write seeking an invitation. The response came so readily that I think his fears incorrect, entirely justified as they were. I don't betray my country if I admit some relationships last longer than others here, that there is convenience in much of what we do.”
Keiminops had relaxed his grip and lessened his staring intensity by then, and so Dirant felt free to lean against a gazebo support and speak casually. “Should you emphasize that after declaring us friends?”
“What's that advice again? 'Be honest until you're sure the lies are worth it.' You can trust me for now. I only knew Eizeur Helsodenk by rumor, but he earned my eternal gratitude when he suggested we would not be thrown out if we went to that history festival, where . . . Wasn't that your company? Were you there?”
“I was one of the reenactors, yes.”
Keiminops frowned. “I'm not sure what that means, and lying about it isn't worth it.”
“A person who acts out something which has already been done.”
“A reenactor then. There's a gift of Drastlimez for you. Did you have an important part? Who gave the speech that made the riot-minders fidget?” By this point Keiminops had reverted entirely to the urbane gentleman. Dirant regretted that, since urbanity went along well with avoiding questions, but to stand still while having fingers dig into his shoulders had its own drawbacks. A painter would have trouble getting both their faces in the double portrait, for example.
“It was Branch Manager Hadolt Herafoken, and our translator Onkallant Paspaklest provided the Drastlimez version. The answer to what you are about to ask is yes, and you may confess now if you already knew.”
“I don't know how common a family name that is, so I'm allowed to say I didn't know.”
“It is not an extraordinary name in any way.”
Keiminops nodded. “I'll make a confession by proxy too, for before coming here the Eizeur had already seen Seifis Onerid . . . that feels odd, like putting your hands in your pockets and finding somebody else's things in there.”
Dirant raised his right arm in a deliberate manner with elbow bent at an angle more than one ritual demanded for the delivery of the invocation. “Here is a gift in return. It is a dispensation of Adabanness. Today you may say either Seifis Paspaklest or Miss Onerid as you wish. Tomorrow an application to the embassy for an extension is required.”
“I'll ask Uncle to get the fee waived. I remember when Mr. Helsodenk, I'm exploiting my permit there, remarked that he saw a colleague's daughter among the festive masses and said he was reluctant even to approach her that he might ask how her father fared. An old man walking up to him was ever a disagreeable occasion in his youth, and he didn't think much had changed.”
“And he recognized her, though now an adult and then a child? I presume. I have no idea when he saw her last.”
“Neither do I, but if you find Uncle's portrait in the house, it's a miracle how little some change. Others, though. I grew up hearing about how Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin was once the pinnacle of what nature can give to man so often that I ran away from home to escape it. I drifted to a house of prayer and consolation. The old priest there said I reminded him of that handsome Igwodan-Tin boy, which did make me feel better. Have you met him, Sajaitin? Mr. Dirant?”
“I thought I did, but now I question it.”
“The years squeezed him remorselessly. I thought nothing of Mr. Helsodenk's remark except that it was a chance for me to do someone a favor, and a Bodan-Tin dies if we go too long without. I introduced myself since it was private . . . Mr. Dirant? Are you feeling all right?”
“An unsolved puzzle came to mind suddenly. Please ignore it.”
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“A man looking for investors once told me puzzles are about to return to the high seat of low trends, and maybe it's happened. Uncle looked much the same this morning, Eizesl Bavan-Ston at his shoulder the whole time. Why am I talking so much?”
“My employers assigned me nothing today. Perhaps it is the same for you, or?”
“You reminded me I wanted to look busy. Come on.” Keiminops began a tour of the town. Not that there was anything he needed to see; rather, the townsfolk needed a chance to see a Bodan-Tin now and then, hourly if possible. “What's odd is that the one task I was given, I didn't understand. I don't think the temple repairs need to be rushed. You're an important person come into Dreivis for reasons indispensable to the world's best functioning.”
“That is correct, Eizesl.”
“Now you're a different person of the same description.”
“Just like that? What an amazing country.”
“It truly is. Do you notice the temple at all unless the earth has half-reclaimed it already? Think, but the answer is that you don't. Do you notice the temple if it's under repair, the workers about and crass? It's far more likely that you will. Uncle's behaving as if no meeting of persons heavy in their step has ever benefited from his involvement before. Maybe these are heavier than he let me think, but it isn't as if the king of Chtrebliseu is coming.” His attempt to disguise exasperation with humor came off as downright whiny, but Dirant ignored that. He was thinking the king of Chtrebliseu sounded about the right sort of eminence.
“Ah, and so you dispatched messengers to inform the work crews of this?”
“That's right. We don't usually put it that way, but today I'm an honorary Adaban.”
If Dirant were an employee of a company which at times saw reason to conceal security personnel as common laborers, he might have suspected the temple repairmen to be guards called up for the upcoming conference, their schedule altered after the attempt on the oligarch's life. So he did. Taking that as fact, the significance could have eluded Keiminops only provided Poiskops had chosen not to tell him. That answered Takki's question, but since Dirant still had nothing else to do, he continued the surreptitious investigation.
“A single day however is too little to grow out your sideburns as you must. The hairline we will correct with a comb.”
Keiminops did not run a hand through his hair, but he did look a bit worried. Then he ran a hand through Dirant's hair. “Does Miss Onerid prefer this style?”
“That may be something I can find out through inquiry. My guess is that she does not.”
“I'd be grateful. I was going to tell you what happened when I talked to her that evening, but what purpose has it? You can see the aftermath yourself, happy or unhappy as it may become. I thought I was in love once before, you know.”
“Either more often than that or never are what the rumors say. It depends upon the charitable feelings of the speaker.”
Keiminops brushed that aside and wiped it in Dirant's hair. “I'm as much of an ignorant man tripping through life as any, and even I know those rumors and how they started. I ignored the daughters various families threw across the pure and narrow path of true love, the shoals to starboard and to port the cliffs. They decided it's better to be wronged by a Bodan-Tin than ignored, and I don't say they're mistaken.”
“Certainly not in public,” Dirant noted. Anyone could overhear them without approaching, and a great deal of approaching happened. The locals hesitated not even the width of that paper Takki tried to pass through the wall to greet the Stanops's nephew, chat with him, invite him to drop by so he might look over their new plates, and ask whether there was anything to this Akard-Velgsin process.
“We're speaking Adaban,” Keiminops reminded. “But only you are thinking in it. I announce a plan to murder every other stanops before seizing tyrannical power and every last Drastlifar here will both deny hearing it and offer to help. What's this boasting? I wanted to express and be humble for once, and you stopped me. I won't ever try again. The point is, I don't have any reason to praise my judgment and scoff at theirs. I spent so long on that torturing path, but now that I've met Miss Onerid, I can't even remember her name.”
“Whose name?”
“Seifis Ies Liolops-Bols-Daigin, now Barais Ies Stin-Ston.” Most Adabans strove at some stage in their lives to master a flawless straight delivery. Many succeeded and many more deluded themselves that they had, but to find someone who could tell a joke about a love lost to another man and not even twitch was beyond Dirant's experience. Donnlink Espahalpt had tried once and delayed the day's research for the twenty minutes he needed to recover himself. That was an impressive performance if Keiminops's story was true, and on that basis alone Dirant put his faith in it.
Beyond that, Dirant was by then convinced that either Keiminops had nothing to do with the attack or Poiskops deserved it. Perhaps oligarchical families engaged in that species of behavior as a matter of course. If Takki practiced with her weapons despite being Peerless in a couple of them, why should the elite not keep its skills honed? And what was shameful if Dirant Rikelta, being a commercial Ritualist and a son of noted Fennizen Entrepreneur Haderslant Rikelta, tried to find out more about a possible business opportunity? No one ever blamed a mole for digging.
“We must discuss your virtues still. Your confidence in your future enterprise is well understood, but will the outsider call it real ambition or only a dream? Details distinguish the foolish from the reticent, and it may be the same here.”
“I'm told I'm not so picky about food as at first I appear,” Keiminops said. By doing so he at the same time preserved his business secrets and prompted Dirant to realize he did look like someone apt to raise his eyebrows at anything a man paid a daily or weekly wage would eat.
Nothing about that information helped, however. “Is that an attractive quality, or? Perhaps it is preferable to return to the ambitious part. Ah, before that, a demand is to be made on your attention.”
“Or on yours.”
“Everything of mine belongs to you, though only for the next hour or so.”