Against Lying Tradition, We May State Never Have Our Combatants Been So Effective As They Are Today
“Ah, that is true. Your composure and logic in situations such as this is a model for all Battlers.” Turning to Loigwin, in a conversational sense only given that his own fingers would have been undetectable by then if not permanently attached, Dirant explained. “Eizesl, the Stanops brought in security under the guise of a temple repair crew.”
“A horse that can see its rider's home on the horizon is less encouraged than I am because of that news. We need do naught then but immobilize ourselves, you suggest?” A bolder or less honest person's voice might have quivered with indignation at the idea or else resentment of his own impotence, but Loigwin's stayed even like that of someone who considered emergencies no time for high emotion.
“Does anyone disagree?” Takki asked.
Since the faction in favor of being cut down by zealous Bodan-Tin warriors had long since disappeared on account of its complete success in achieving its goals, nobody did. The knot stayed still, barring some shivering, and allowed time and mist to pass while contemplating unpleasant things.
“It cannot be true that Eizesl Dogai-Brein is brazen enough to employ this tactic,” Dirant at last said as a defense against an accusation he was unsure anyone but him had made, and that silently. “That he might attempt to kill Stanops Bodan-Tin is a possibility, and that he would do so twice is a claim I can be persuaded to accept. This however is assuredly an attempt to frame him.”
“I don't see how I can agree with you there, Ressi.” Takki had disappeared from sight altogether, even when Dirant remembered to look down.
“There is no time more suitable than this to put forth an argument,” he said in what he guessed to be her direction. “Is there some compulsion that makes him expose himself by using his known bodyguards so, or?”
“Oh, no, I was objecting to the idea that this has anything to do with murders. Those three are probably escaping from monsters. Listen to that.”
The sounds of feet hitting paved streets as if they had insulted somebody's wife which Dirant had attributed to either running guards or general disorderliness may indeed have been Chisops and his two advertisements as Takki proposed, but the louder and louder thumps must have had another cause.
“It may be . . .” Petarun paused to review his idea before he committed the fault of deceiving the Stanops's guests with erroneous information. After listening longer, the short period between two thumps followed by a longer silence convinced him of his supposition's accuracy. “That may just be a poolfoot. But whatever is it doing in town? That has not once happened in my allotment of years or my father's.”
“How big do those get around here, Eizesl? If you don't know exact measurements I understand, but I'd appreciate an approximation.” Takki's question did not result from idle interest. The doctor would surely make himself an accomplice to a violent act and potentially the creation of a new coat if he cooperated.
He did. “The front foot is typically five feet in width and three in depth. The height ranges from ten to fifteen feet. The marsh variety is among the smaller as a rule. The coloration is a bluish-green.”
“Thank you. I don't think I need to trap it first, then. All right, I'm going, and don't the rest of you go wandering off and getting lost. Seifis Oimer! Seifis Kwin! I'm going to kill it! You can help if you want!”
Her voice faded as she ran off. Their response could not be heard, if they made any, which they did not, because of a boom which caused shudders in all who felt it. That may have been Chisops Dogai-Brein yelling a command to his underlings, since after it the fog dispersed like a crowd disappointed when two young men decide against a fisticuffs-based solution to a disagreement. The rumored poolfoot then stood unconcealed.
Whether its forward foot did indeed create all the continent's pools and ponds not made by men which began as indentations later filled by rain, waves, floods, or seeping water as tradition held, it looked capable of it. That single huge hoof certainly had the weight to damage crops, roads, and skulls. The rear foot that followed, steadying the creature while the front propelled it, did heavy work as well despite being smaller in every dimension.
The two hooves of the thing absorbed all the attention in museums and in the wild as well, but the rest of it was also quite enormous. Between the legs and the prey-spearing talons, two on each side held folded until the poolfoot sensed below it any of the fish, frogs, and vermin it liked to devour, its massive bulk presented an indistinguishable mass because of the tangled fur that covered it. The coat-makers thought little of that fur except for a smooth, glossy patch around the part of the monster which might be called the nape of the neck with only a little imagination.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
The amateur may have looked at the talons and believed them to be a threat, but there was no evidence that a poolfoot had ever speared and eaten a human. Naturally the person who underwent the experience would no longer be able to speak about it, but other witnesses ought to have been able to testify if it ever happened. Battler Millim Takki Atsa therefore risked nothing but her sense of smell when she approached from the side to leap up its flank and slash away with her halberd while gripping a lock of its green fur.
The Hail Mistress and Sleet Mistress, under standing orders to prioritize the safety of their clients over victory, directed disabling frost at the poolfoot's legs with their wands as if conducting two rival orchestras which had through some error been booked for the same concert hall at the same hour. Bystanders who crawled out of houses that had given them refuge in order to assess the damage saw instead an awe-inspiring battle and little damage, though more certainly than they liked.
One Drastlifar, however, had his attention diverted from that spectacle by something far more doubtful as to its outcome. Loigwin Nein-Cadops-Bain, who along with Dirant and Petarun believed wandering off to be a distinct action from walking closer, uttered a shocked exclamation. “Wuislaf's stains, is there anyone who looks as much like Gretlin Kair as much as he?” He pointed at a young fellow amid the growing crowd of spectators whose looks might have been called unremarkable if not for how exceptionally suited they were for an underling, lackey, or henchman.
The famous captain-inspector's book emphasized the importance of cultivating contacts at every level of society as a part of facilitating identifications of unknown persons, and there was an unprompted example. Without revealing his fierce interest, he hoped, Dirant said, “That man has been in town for some time. He is an acquaintance, or?”
Loigwin frowned. “We've shared a soothing sip before, yes. We aren't members of the same club, but someone brings in someone else and cordiality overtakes the world. But . . .”
“I wasn't informed,” Petarun observed with some resentment.
“Ought you to have been?”
“Certainly, Sajaitin. I should be provided all relevant medical information if a Kair is visiting.” The doctor's statements and Loigwin's nod were in accord. “What if he took ill? Are we to leave to cruel chance such things? I have Eizesl Nein-Cadops-Bain's details of course. A most healthy young man.”
“I've been blessed in many ways,” Loigwin admitted. “And behold, where may be his shield? He cannot be here unheralded. That would be . . . He cannot.”
Since the irregularity of Gretlin Kair's presence had been confirmed by two separate sources, Dirant revealed facts he earlier omitted after drawing his companions back a bit to prevent being overheard. They had to speak rather loudly to beat the poolfoot's groans in response to a Battler's furious blows, but because the onlookers had started cheering, the chance of detection stayed even.
The full story, contrary to his outsider expectations, diminished Loigwin's surprise. “There are occasions when delicacy well-meant becomes deceit unintentional, and this may be one. The Kairs are an armiger family certainly, their arms a testament to wealth and honor in proportions unequal. I don't say their enterprises are never legal, but it is not those which make their reputation.” If the immaculately respectable young Nein-Cadops-Bain said that in a tone not entirely supportive of his younger acquaintance, the Kairs were not a family that required support.
“Ah, and so that eizesl is perhaps a higher sort of henchman involved in chicanery of such magnitude that the Stanops, should he learn of it, must either prevent it or take it over, provided he has any care for his reputation.”
“It's not impossible.”
The poolfoot was not enduring its opponents well during that exchange, to say nothing of a counteroffensive. Thrill-seeking hunters and coat-makers agreed in preferring every other monster but a few, if for different reasons. The poolfoot's incapacity in battle required more eloquence than most elite combatants possessed to make the story sound good later.
The monster's end was as inevitable as its invasion was inexplicable. Koshat Dreivis remembered its passing long afterward as the time when a couple common houses got emergency repairs from a temple crew, a more exalted variety of workmen in Drastlif who never otherwise would perform such a service.
That incident, the destruction rather than the later restoration, evidently decided Gretlin Kair to take his leave. He darted gate-ward. “That's tremendously dubious,” Loigwin noted.
“I begin to wonder if this is an inventive assassination attempt after all,” said Dirant. “It is a shame I cannot follow Eizesl Kair and put questions to him, seeing as the Stanops requires me to be in town in a few days. To run him down in that time is an unsure proposition.”
“I'm not sure any authority will agree with that, Sajaitin.” Loigwin hesitated in confusion before he realized the ignorance behind the divergence in their views. “The opinion of most you ask would be that any Kair's destination upon leaving this playground built for the pleasure of the mask, the wheel, and the dolphin will be Steiraf, a day's journey for a donkey much burdened and hours for the healthy and enthusiastic. Is your enthusiasm renewed?”
“Or were you just making excuses not to put yourself to any trouble?” That was Dirant's best guess at the unsaid continuation. Probably the genuine version carried less of an accusatory implication; Loigwin could hardly think Dirant to be qualified by either class or occupation for a criminal investigation, though perhaps he considered every last Adaban bold enough for any enterprise. Naturally he did not realize Dirant suspected the matter to be entangled with a religious obligation, and still less that the god of Ritualists delighted in complex situations regardless of their other qualities.