As Well As The Satisfaction Of Comprehension
“It is well for that to be taken into account, but provided we regained everything we lost in my grandfather's time, we would not attain the canton gules. No family is on the brink to free us a seat, and furthermore, more than a simple measurement of wealth is involved when the councilors debate which family is worthy of joining them in their stewardship of the people. Be sure they will not include our contributions to the general welfare made before our reduction in rank, oh no, do not think them so sentimental. That is why I am here. When I confirm my theories . . . Sajaitin, I know there is no use in telling you all this now, but remember. when others take the credit as inevitably some will, that it was a Dogai-Brein who discovered the secret.”
“What secret is that, Eizesl?” The best kind of secret in Dirant's personal ranking system was one he knew and others did not. Those he told other people came second. The sort someone else told him directly and few others knew followed at a respectable third.
Chisops went for a mysterious, tantalizing sort of tone. He succeeded only so far as the mountains can hide themselves in the clouds. “The seasons of monsters are well known, poorly understood, and laden with practical meaning. We are today in the Period Uncontested which the Adabans call Quiescence when there is less monstrous activity than at any other portion of the year. Many ask why the number of monsters is as low is it is, but what I asked and what I've been struggling to discover is where are the monsters, supposing there are not in fact fewer of them. Yes, Sajaitin, it is not fairies who live in your hills and pass through the cracks.”
The speech fascinated and slightly unnerved Dirant and Takki, though the bodyguards evidently had heard their employer's ruminations and promises to himself often enough not to be much interested.
“Then you'll be a stanops, Captain,” asserted Isarbas Kwin with the confidence of a mother telling her son he would be picked first next time.
Laimerif Oimer agreed with her in that, at least. “They may expand the number of families for you. It's been done before. There's nothing sacred about the number fifty-nine, so why shouldn't they?”
Chisops alone dissented, though he smiled as he did. “The more likely result is an elevation of my family in two generations at the speed Drastlif moves. I would be entirely content at that. No, I wouldn't have a single regret if it turned out that way. What are you doing now, Barais, my son, my daughters, my Dogai-Breins? Is there as much cheer there as here, and have you burned yourselves again by grabbing the skewer incorrectly?”
A bit of the hypnotic effect once felt by the guests at Poiskops Bodan-Tin's main table affected Takki, but she recovered herself when he drifted into mere sentiment. Moreover, the mentions of similar celebrations reminded her of something she wanted to ask. “Are these parties the same everywhere, with all the drums and bonfires? I haven't seen a piano since I came here.”
“There was one in the house of our last stanops, my grandfather,” Chisops reminisced. “I remember well that our demotion came the year I began to conceive a dislike for my lessons on it.”
“Yeah, nobody likes piano much, and that's why the fancy families make their kids learn it,” Isarbas interjected. “There's no risk of their scions getting a band together with the wrong sort then. Are you going to yell at me, Seffif?”
Laimerif demurred. “I doubt anything we have to say on musical subjects will shock a Pavvu.”
“That's probably true,” Takki said while politely ignoring the questionable term “Pavvu” in a most worldly fashion. “Amateur debaters defend the most bewildering statements you'll ever hear for practice, and music theory is a standard topic. They say the viola was invented to prove a point once, but that may just be a story.”
Since Chisops believed himself to have revealed quite enough about his discoveries for the moment, the discussion continued on a musical path to its inevitable end with Takki, Chisops, Laimerif, and Isarbas forming their own drum circle while Dirant looked on with a smile set as if chiseled in marble and wondered if he should just leave.
Stolen story; please report.
Searching the beach for an excuse, he detected nobody trying to leave, or at least nobody of importance. More than that, he saw Stansolt Gaomat saunter in as if he had simply mistaken the time of the event but knew everyone would be as glad to see him as he was to see them regardless. The Drastlifars did not respond in any way to his arrival, though more because they did not know him rather than any deficiency of charm on his part.
The festival went as far into the night as anyone wished it to, with “anyone” referring to Poiskops Bodan-Tin. Posmeterin Igwodan-Tin had the excuse of age and the social heft to leave before the oligarch, though nevertheless late enough that it might have been the next day, and others of the senior contingent withdrew around that time as well. Parents shepherded children to bed, at least the younger ones. Most of them came back; that is, most of the parents and most of the children too, sneaking around the fires and squealing when caught.
Even robust Acrobats had to stifle yawns, and seeing that, Poiskops again engaged Helsodenk in conversation about his present affairs. Perhaps the Stanops was staying up for no other reason than that.
“Eizeur, you look like your tailor doesn't miss a stitch or a fee. I won't ask what it is during moon's sleep that you do unseen, but tell me at least, someone who knows the world, are you big and soaring? You aren't writing with cramped hands letters long and technical on behalf of some client with more phlegm in him than blood who sits atop a vault as if waiting for it to hatch, wondering why no one visits him but glad of the quiet. That's for lesser lawyers or ones too contented.”
Helsodenk escaped another yawn in the finest Acrobat style. “That sort of client is the most desirable. Unfortunately, none are available at the moment. I am today engaged in chemical research and production. One of our proprietary substances already has found applications likely to revolutionize an industry. That is what the buyer says, though granted we must translate that from the original Marketing Talk (Fluent). Doing so we see that 'revolutionize' becomes 'improve,' and that is satisfactory I think.”
Poiskops shifted on the padded stool well-wishers had provided for him on their own ingratiating initiative. “My next unasked question is still clear, if the hour hasn't made me foolish.”
“Shipbuilding, as it happens, and nothing to do with the Bodan-Tins, unless in my absence you expanded your interests. Ah, certainly you have. The hour has made me foolish, it seems.”
“Yes, but because the poet warned us not to leave our treasures dear in greedy hands, and because of greed nothing has more of it than the sea, I still stay out of that market. Have you been talking to the, hm, the Ektin-Sars?”
“I will not correct you if you wish to say so.”
Both chuckled in recognition that they and everyone who cared understood that the Akard-Velgsins were the shipbuilders implicated. Dirant and Takki backed away as the talk around the big man's bonfire drifted into the problems of older gentlemen, such as how to hire servants who are both competent and uninquisitive. While everyone hoped to share similar concerns one day, the solutions likely would be different by then.
“This is a setback for my case,” Dirant admitted. “Mr. Helsodenk was rapidly becoming my favored suspect because of his connection to our ambassadors and further because of the unspecified business associates who turned on him. I presumed Stanops Bodan-Tin to be one such, or else to be an associate of those associates. Now we hear Mr. Helsodenk to be recovered entirely and engaged in a highly respectable endeavor unless he lies about that, and the matter is too easy to check for me to believe he would resort to deception in that regard.”
“Cheer up, Ressi. Even if he wasn't ruined, he might be seeking revenge because he's unbelievably spiteful.”
“Thank you. That is cheering. Ah, are my worst traits being encouraged?”
“That's nowhere near your worst trait,” Takki assured him.
Dirant hesitated, but the courage of his ancestors demanded better. “What then is?”
“Not being a Battler.”
He certainly had the fortitude to bear up under the accusation, true as it was. “I have at times perceived the shortcomings in not joining that class.”
“I know it isn't for everyone, but I do think you'd be good at it if you had the stats.”
That settled that. Onerid came over to consult Takki about some of the problems which faced the younger set, such as whether it was arrogance that deluded her or if several men were indeed attempting to make the best use of the public nature of the occasion. Dirant let that be in order to preserve his neutrality in the matter.
At last the Stanops made a declaration after checking his golden watch that had gems for its numbers and its wearer's reputation for its security. “They say Pikilifs still use sundials, but how do they reckon after they greet the gentle silver host? Even so, a day is a day, and no longer are we one full week from the year to come. Everyone! We all must work tomorrow too, though not hard or well! To bed!” Since his voice did not carry so well as it once did, the word was distributed by helpful Drastlifars. Soon the beach emptied and all went home, though not before Stansolt Gaomat suggested to Dirant Rikelta they speak the next day, or rather that day, to leave precision not wholly neglected.