Accompanied By An Explanation Why Each Ought To Be Taken As Proof Of The Superiority Of Theory
Though ready to be the complete tour guide, whether for someone as exalted as an arm-bearing Drastlifar or as lowly as the other kind of Drastlifar, Dirant fielded no questions from his charge except for whether he thought a clock made out of two wrestlers might be a tad much. Which he did not. A Drastlifan town held nothing to puzzle Loigwin, and therefore Dirant decided to ask his own questions.
“How poor precisely is Eizesl Bodan-Tin's reputation? Regarding ladies, though not any of them in particular.”
Loigwin looked around before answering. Friendly territory could become hostile quickly, as countless street brawls proved. Seeing no one nearby, he said, “Bad enough that I'm surprised someone hasn't spoken to him in words that can't be written yet are read by doctors well enough. His class isn't intimidating so far as I've heard. Men more influential than he have failed to escape the bill of their deeds. The simplest explanation is that those rumors are fantasy altogether. The era of trustworthy men is too far behind us, Sajaitin.”
“Perhaps it is so.” The earlier mention of Onkallant had inspired a new question, but Dirant waited a little before putting it in order to obfuscate the relationship. As they entered the park, he asked, “Speaking of classes not prominent in the violence market, what means do you think that Mr. Onkallant, Sportsman, would use to murder someone?”
“Cuts and stabs, those being teasing and jibes.” Unable to decide whether to smile or frown at his reminiscences, Loigwin concocted a hybrid that made him look as if the noon repast had given him food poisoning. “Strangling? He's strong enough for that and doesn't carry weapons. Why?”
“I thought the same. Now suppose that an Administrator, you may have one in mind, were to murder someone. How?” The ploy to pretend he was simply engaging in speculation of questionable taste with another young man, a common practice in that set, succeeded. Loigwin never realized the satisfaction Dirant had from hearing support for the scintillating theory he had just devised. If it was not the likeliest scenario, at least it was plausible enough to let him feel smart.
“I do think it's a clever theory,” Takki allowed. After a brief tour, Loigwin had left Dirant to go inspect drainpipes. “The problem is that now you have two things to explain. Why would someone want to kill the Stanops and get Mr. Onkallant in trouble for it? I might be stupid, but those don't go together that well. If I lost a match to Mr. Onkallant and was so mad I wanted revenge, couldn't I just kill him? That sounds much easier. Heading the other direction, if I'm the kind of person who assassinates oligarchs, who's Mr. Onkallant to me?”
His smile proved he had already thought of that, Dirant hoped. Otherwise he would appear to be enjoying the conversation in general, another acceptable result. “That is so. However, presume you wish to murder several people. Is it easier to get at an oligarch before the killings start or after, and is it easier to continue if someone else, anyone at all, is suspected? I realize all this is a contrived jumble compared to a plain matter of wanting a particular oligarch dead, and yet even so.”
“I don't know, Ressi. Are you sure you don't just want an Adaban to be involved so you don't have to think about Drastlif as much? Oh, what kind of tree do we think that is?”
They were roaming outside of town toward the west, where Drastlifars did whatever it was they had to do in fields of the non-marsh variety. The work involved a great deal of bending and kneeling. The grunting and cursing likely were incidental. Out farther, trees waited to be plucked, chopped, or exploited in some other way, and neither northerner could figure out more than that. “Perhaps that is the famous rubber tree. It is obvious from my guess how little I understand Drastlif. I admit that, and yet if I am thinking internationally, the cause is that struggle in which a Drastlifar, a Tand, two Dvanjchtlivs, and even an Adaban took part.”
“I can see how that might make a powerful impression. But if we go by your theory, the mastermind has already failed, hasn't he? We have four witnesses who know it wasn't Mr. Onkallant. That's great news for you, Ressi. You can go ahead and enjoy your vacation while I solve the real mystery.”
“This is a business trip,” he reminded her.
“Oh? What are you doing right now?” she reminded him.
“I wonder if they grow yams here. We never ship them to Drastlif so far as I know.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“That's really beneath you, Ressi.”
“It gladdens me that you think so, and in the future I will refrain employing outside of an interrogation those conversational gambits which work so well on Eizesl Nein-Cadops-Bain.”
“You are getting better at that, aren't you? You're like a raider on his second outing. We haven't been able to eliminate any suspects, though. Wait, we added one. Showing up after the victim's death and acting surprised is an old trick.” Takki flipped the end of her scarf back behind her shoulder in the southern, evidently older, style.
“It's true that even the most apparently innocuous person is capable of actions which amaze the audience, and also that a second murder comes easier after the first. Those are lessons taken from a thrilling goslikenar that is not entirely ahistorical.”
“Ressi, I want to attend that one.”
Wistfulness suffused Dirant's voice as he said, “What a sad hour it was when I saw it listed for no forthcoming performances in Isarpezoltk. Ah, but when we return, I must check for it again.”
“Oh, that's great to hear.”
During dinner, Loigwin was able to confirm Dirant's consoling words by seeing Onerid present, if at a different table. Keiminops also glanced over a few times while Dirant tried to figure out at what stage in Drastlifan courtship the suitor approached the object of his noble intentions. Both gentlemen had spoken to Onerid more before they decided they were in love than after, which in Greater Enloffenkir would be taken as a sign of a wish to write poetry rather than to pursue a romance.
No one disturbed the jollity of the meal by asking awkward questions such as, “You did it, didn't you?” or “Why did you do it?” The second question was too easy to answer for it to be asked in the first place unless Loigwin Nein-Cadops-Bain were the person accused. Even Posmeterin Igwodan-Tin, at the main table that day, might have been enmeshed in some family conspiracy; Ritualists benefited from a presumption of non-criminality more out of a lack of applicability with regards to their abilities than from any class-specific moral rectitude, as Dirant knew from various thoughts that had crossed his mind about what he wanted to do to the manager who put him on piano-moving duty. That one of his brothers was said manager made the parallel yet more apt.
If the host insisted with implications of force rather than grace alone that everyone leave his house afterward, no doubt nervousness over the upcoming enigmatic event combined with dallying on the part of the curious guests to cause his behavior and not, for instance, fear of assassination. Then again, he may have been concerned for his guests' appetites. A reluctance to refuse the generosity of a stanops was a terrible thing when it prevented the guest from enjoying the evening's beach barbecue planned as to celebrate the start of the old year's final week.
To prepare for that, outsiders needed only change into clothes they were willing to have besauced and stand around waiting, perhaps tapping a foot or singing half-remembered lyrics. Employees of respected mercantile firms were accustomed to use their time more productively than that. Itinerant Ritualist Dirant Rikelta went to check again the popcorn box for irregularities caused by careless handling or, worse, for signs of careful examination by someone too curious about the setup's specifics. He opened the door into the pavilion's service closet and was asked a question.
“What goes on in Koshat, Mr. Dirant? I can't convince myself it was for any unimportant reason that your shadows and I passed each other on the road when I was returning.”
“I hope to have convinced them my motives are purely financial. As for the occasion which brought it about, allow me first to contemplate whether it is proper for me to tell you.”
“I won't rush you then.”
Dirant turned a judging eye on Stansolt Gaomat, though first he judged himself favorably for reacting with such equanimity to seeing a man reclining on the floor under the counter, his back against the wall and in his hand a sheaf of papers doubtless inappropriate for Dirant to read, or Stansolt for that matter.
A Sivoslofer spy might have liked to murder Poiskops Bodan-Tin. He might also do anything to achieve the opposite result. The political nuances were beyond a simple member of the commercial milieu, and so Dirant could never know which unless he asked. That seemed dangerous. Stansolt might answer honestly, after all.
Dirant imagined how he himself would go about the assassination of a prominent figure, reached the point where he paid someone like Stansolt to do it, and gave up before the exercise diverged from the point even more. Most importantly, nowhere in his plan did he push to be included on a company expedition so that as many people as possible knew him to be in the vicinity when the crime happened. Based on that and Stansolt's undisputed capacity to keep secrets, Dirant said, “An attack was perpetrated that had the evident purpose of ending the life of Stanops Bodan-Tin.”
That interested the spy. Dirant recounted the incident while he looked over the popcorn box; efficiency was the second treasure of the experienced commercial Ritualist, the first being a nature capable of withstanding tedium.
“And there it rests,” he concluded. “Or else it slithers about menacingly. The Stanops remains alive, and neither has he canceled whatever negotiations which involve a person so prominent as the crown prince of Noiswawau alongside the usual diplomats and spies.”
Stansolt's answering smile did not precisely condescend, but there was something in it that belongs to those who know what others do not. “Your friends Mr. Ebringsawm and Mr. Iischipl would still be in town if they realized you figured out that much. Have you discovered who is leading the other deputation?”
“I have not.”
Against Dirant's expectation, Stansolt dropped his smile and asked, “Do you want to hear who it is?”
Against Stansolt's expectation, Dirant did not, and said so. “And yet I admit I must learn it eventually regardless, since I have this assignment.”
“Quite so,” Stansolt concurred. “Sooner is better than later when never is unavailable. He is Boij Avroshipt Ogleript.”