Remember Your Courage Even Then
Manager Disal hustled over to speak to him and, more importantly, try to the block line of sight from the visitors. They all saw it though: a gambeson-wearing black-haired Adaban with his helmet in one hand and his other lounging on the hilt of the longest of several swords and daggers about his person. The Adaban spoke in a low voice and left after receiving a response from the manager, who felt himself compelled to offer an explanation when he returned to the table. He did so after wiping his forehead a couple more times.
“We brought on some extra security after a few incidents. Not so much incidents really as sightings, if we're as precise about that as about our eardron, ha ha. Some of the workmen think they may have caught sight of some activity by persons unknown deeper inland. It was probably just the heat, but we can't not think about spies down here. Between our operations and the fleet modernization, and then there's the Drastlifars on the other side. Well, it just so happened that some experienced mercenaries were available after those corsairs of Olaxeitat over in Eubosh finally got what was coming to them. In fact! We were able to hire the very man who seized Olaxeitat itself and cut off their support. His name is Kelnsolt Aradetnaf. He may be an Adaban, but that doesn't mean he isn't the best. That was one of his men. He said nothing's been turned up so far and Mr. Aradetnaf is continuing the investigation.”
Disal esIdyuin may have missed his calling as an auctioneer or the servant who announced the full names of guests arriving at a high-society function. Not many had the lungs to say that much without pausing for breath. Knowing that Lord Audnauj had broad views when it came to keeping useful Adabans around would have saved him the effort, but the cunning precaution of having Dirant Rikelta wear gray prevented that. The manager believed his gambit had succeeded when Audnauj spoke with no threat in his voice but only vague interest. “Kelnsolt Aradetnaf? Haven't heard of him. One of those, whatchemits, condottieri? Is he capable?”
Dirant testified about that point. “He is quite efficient. The condottieri followers dislike the straightforward way he goes about his work in contrast to his more famous father. That is a consequence of his low Panache and not a moral failing worthy of condemnation.”
He started as soon as he said that to think perhaps it would have been better not to have revealed the oddly wide extent of his knowledge of an Adaban mercenary captain, but the lack of risk thus far had made him incautious. Nothing bad happened of course, not with the protection of Lord Audnauj, who continued looking over eardron, imagining how it would look on a horse, and speaking idly. “Know a bit about it, eh? Are you a condottieri follower yourself?”
“Ah, it is only that I met him once when we . . . in Wessolp, where we both had obligations.”
“The world gets smaller every day. I suppose you'd like to catch up with your friend?”
“It was a professional relationship only, and as he is being very professional right now, it would be rude for me to interrupt.”
“Thoughtful of you.”
With that conversational subject exhausted, Takki asked Dirant to translate all that Dvanj for her. He did so after shuffling to the far side of the bench so as not to disturb Audnauj's perusal. Nobody had demanded silence, but there was something about the minor squeaks of cases being opened and tinkles as small metal chunks dropped on the table which created an atmosphere of grave sanctity.
Takki felt it too, and she further detected a mystery in the offing. “Ressi, we can't leave everything to mercenaries, can we? If they're all Adabans, the workers might not tell them everything they need to know. We have to conduct a parallel investigation.” That “will must” stumble of hers had disappeared just as Dirant was beginning to find it endearing. There were poems about that sort of thing.
As to the substance, the sole investigation that interested him involved the expert Picker alleged to be employed at that site. Still, that promised to be a short one, since he need only ask the manager or, better yet, ask Audnauj to ask the manager. Moreover, though he feared his reluctance to turn down any request Millim Takki Atsa chose to make might cause him hardship one day, no reason to stand his ground in that instance came to mind. The mercenary cohort would prevent any danger short of an invasion by Drastlif, Audnauj's business required time, and leaving Redrin without having an adventure would ruin his collection. He therefore acquiesced and proceeded to the planning stage. “Is this a dual campaign, or do we round up Yumins to make us look more trustworthy?”
Hugal slid over. “Please take me. There's nothing to groom and I might be dismissed.”
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Eyanya did the same. “Go groom yourself. I already did that, so please take me instead.”
Speaking of circumstances requiring explanation, only then did Dirant realize he had been amid one for days. “With what intention did your master bring you along? Is not your place in the port with his horses?”
Eyanya leaned over the table after looking around. “Don't tell our inferiors, but I don't think Master Audnauj knows what it is we do.”
“That's why we still have jobs,” Hugal added. His fellow groom nodded in agreement.
While the other Yumins opted to relax inside the ritual-chilled area until duties such as cleaning Lord Audnauj's clothes and carrying his armaments forced them away, four curious trouble-seekers left the building for the hot, hot outdoors and its blood-chilling mysteries.
Eyanya proposed a plan of action. “You might think Hugal or I should talk to our fellow Yumin salary-scroungers. You're wrong. They'll think we look down on them because we're in a lord's household.”
“Are they right?” Takki asked.
“How right are they?” Dirant asked.
“I'm perceiving some disparate ideas of our character here. It doesn't matter. One of you should ask. That's a polite way of saying the friendly Pavvu lady.” Eyanya put her arm around Takki's shoulders.
“I can't agree with that.” Hugal, for once, made a serious contribution. “The intimidating Adaban gentleman looks more like the mercenaries they were told to cooperate with.”
“That's the point. We want information they didn't get.”
“Intimidating?” Takki backed up and analyzed Dirant while the grooms argued. “I don't see it. Maybe intense or driven are better words? But if the Yumins see you that way, we have to accept it.” She accosted a clump of laborers who appeared to be on break. Whether they were supposed to be was not so clear. “Battler Millim Takki Atsa, present. Are you free to talk? We want to help with your problems.”
“Beats pretending I want to get back to work,” one said as he rose to greet the investigators after the hearty Yumin fashion, and the rest thought his declaration convincing. After a round of introductions and clapping of arms, the workers supplied certain interpretations of recent events which had become popular if not prevalent in the camp which Disal esIdyuin had excluded from his narrative, to wit, ghosts.
“Or spirits,” they allowed. Shapes that cast no shadow, shadows without a shape to cause them, the sensation of being watched, rocks sliding for no evident reason, tree branches still in the wind or swaying at a windless hour, and whispers impossible to reconcile as human speech were some of the signs reported by workers. Ordinarily a more prosaic explanation might have been favored. Lesser Redrin, however, was a land of ancient enigmas. Ruins, geographical formations that looked like ruins, and the blessed waters that produced eardron gave the place a strange and fey atmosphere.
Takki objected. “What makes you think the waters are blessed?”
“Eardron comes out of them,” the laborers explained.
“Oh, but why does eardron come out of them?”
Dirant predicted the response. “Because a god blessed them.”
“This guy who doesn't look Yumin at all is right. Eardron isn't mined, you know. We pluck it from lakes and riverbeds. That's why it comes in such small amounts. The goddess Salustris has blessed this island since long ago. She's the one who makes regular junk into eardron.” The laborer shrugged. “I don't know how many people believe that nowadays, but what can we do? Experts in minerals keep coming over to figure out how eardron forms and keep sailing back with nothing but regrets.”
Eyanya raised a finger to her lips that were pressed together in concentration. “Wait. That's why the island is named Salustrid?”
“Yeah.”
“This island?”
“Uh huh.”
“Hm.” She wrestled with that one, leaving no intellectual vigor to tackle the challenge of the strange sightings.
Takki's Sticktoitiveness of 71 prevented her mind from wandering, not to mention she had learned the source of the island's name long before she sailed to it. “If spirits or ghosts appear anywhere in Redrin, it's here, you mean. What is it about what's been going on that makes you think normal people aren't responsible? Spies can watch people, shake trees, and escape when their shadows are spotted.”
The workers had a variety of answers prepared. “Spies leave footprints. Not on the harder spots, I guess.”
“Normal people drop a trail of pebbles when they cross the hard ground.”
“They break off twigs and bark when they climb trees.”
“Scatter nuts and leaves, too.”
“Right, and it's not as if people are just standing around. They see someone and they go see if there's trouble forthwith, straightaway, and presently. Injuries are pretty common in the field. We had to haul Oshemay in last week after he broke his leg.”
“Nobody's heard them, either. They don't threaten like soldiers or try to make nice like spies from rivals, they're just gone.”
“If they're scouts, where are the packs and stuff then? What about armor and weapons? These are some slim shadows we're talking about.”
“Perhaps they are fairies or so,” Dirant suggested.
“Makes sense.”
“Could be.”
“Can't be.” Takki alone remembered the discoveries made by modern researchers and raised her voice to defend them. “Fairies don't exist anymore and ghosts never did. We've all heard stories about them, but has anyone seen them?” Several workmen raised their hands. “No, I'm sorry, I meant besides the ones being discussed now. Which aren't fairies. Or ghosts, or spirits.”
“The reasoning seems circular,” Dirant noted.
“But Ressi, isn't the scientific method circular?”
“Ah, and so it is.”
Takki raised her halberd Battlerishly. “Let the, um, claim we will test be that things other than humans have been spotted. To test this, we will look for signs of human activity inland. Here and now I . . . I . . . Ressi, please translate.” At his nod, she continued in Usse. “I register my opinion that we will find such signs, thus falsifying the hypothesis. Should we go after lunch or before, do you think?”