Though Behind It Always Is Ignorance, The Benefits Are Not Inconsiderable
Roaming Koshat Dreivis for people to amaze with new knowledge, the investigators met Onerid and Ibir among the shops. “Takki! I followed your directions for the fur to the best of my understanding, but be sure to look at it later.” The pleasure Onerid exhibited at their return was in no way diminished by the delay taken to leave the store first. There were other customers after all.
“I'm sorry I pushed that on you like that, but we were in a rush. By the way, Mr. Helsodenk probably tried to have the Stanops assassinated.”
Onerid lifted her fan in a gesture intended either to convey shock or to swat a bug. Either way, she said, “Then Mr. Derisht of the embassy . . . it's terrible of me to ask this, but would you cover your ears for a moment?” Takki did so without hesitation, whereupon she continued. “I suppose it was then Mr. Helsodenk he believed was scheming against his life. Is that it, Mr. Dirant, or?”
“Likely so.” He adopted his most grave and authoritative expression to emphasize his reluctance to make wild accusations, even or especially when he was sure the guy had done it.
“That doesn't exactly surprise me, and yet . . . Ah.” Onerid covered and uncovered her own ears in order to signal the release of Takki from her prison of silence. “I wanted to ask who else is involved.”
Takki nodded, also authoritatively if with not nearly so much gravity. “We can talk about it in the park. That lady who found just the right hair pins doesn't need to hear about this.”
“Does that lady speak Adaban?” Dirant wondered.
“If she really cares about hair pins she might.” Takki's answer suggested to Dirant elements of his tribe's cultural influence theretofore unknown.
In the park and no longer so worried about discretion as they had been, the Steiraf crew explained the situation to Ibir and Onerid, as well as to Stansolt Gaomat, who joined the conversation when he heard their voices from his reading spot. It was his pleasure to assure Dirant no ritual robberies had been attempted, and it was the license-holder's disappointment to hear of so little interest in his product.
The recounting, however smoothly delivered, had its bumps on account of the interrupting noise of troop movements. A squad of Bodan-Tin security personnel marched northward and another westward while, unseen from the park, a few wave-savvy crews began a search of the coastline. Of course some stayed to defend the house and to complete those temple repairs. A hunk of wall had been taken out, and the only thing to do was to replace it before the gods, the faithful, and the accountants lost their patience.
“That's it for Mr. Helsodenk,” Takki concluded. “If he isn't caught soon, he'll be a hunted fugitive anywhere he tries to go. Oh, maybe not Tando OHW, if he doesn't tell them about his attempt to ruin their monopoly.”
“Or Arvawesk,” Dirant added.
“Especially providing he tells them about how he tried to ruin a monopoly,” Stansolt appended.
“Do you really think so?”
All four Grenlofers did in fact think so. “Although it is nothing but reputation behind my opinion,” Dirant clarified. “I have never been there, and rumor is mixed in its reliability despite the protestations on either side of poets and gossipers.”
“That makes sense. The last part of the mystery is if anyone else in town was involved. It looks like our partner didn't take the chance we gave him to run away or murder the Stanops.”
Startled, Dirant asked, “Did you think he might do so? When he has the dazzling future of a private investigator before him?”
“No, but that would have been a real break in the case, wouldn't it?”
“Excuse me,” Onerid interjected. “Who is this person who is going to be a detective and is not murdering anyone?”
Dirant answered. “Eizesl Nein-Cadops-Bain. Ah, and this is not a matter of immediate relevance, but when does one drop all that in this country? The first name here must wither and die from lack of use.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Restored to confidence by the shift in topic from something greatly puzzling to simple etiquette, Onerid told him, “Never, I would say, when speaking of a remote party as we were doing just now. Face to face, I am unsure, but an acquaintance of several years' duration is required so far as I have seen.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Mr. Dirant. Who are these other potential conspirators?”
“There is the Tand named Essar, allegedly, who may be hiding in town though I think it unlikely. Eizesl Gretlin Kair is difficult to credit with honesty, and yet threats and dangers, from his own family no less, have the power to move anyone to give an honest account. We two concur in thinking Eizesl Dogai-Brein to be uninvolved. As for Eizesl Bodan-Tin, we have not yet conferred on the matter, and so it is my view solely that his entire relationship with Helsodenk Nifkleskir consists of what he says: a brief acquaintance and a request that he approach you in Mr. Helsodenk's place. Of course it was all a scheme on Mr. Helsodenk's part to excite suspicion against Mr. Onkallant upon discovery of Stanops Bodan-Tin's murdered corpse.”
That was a claim which required elucidation for Onerid's sake, though Dirant's new Negotiating Fundamentals demanded he require the location of Keiminops Bodan-Tin in exchange.
The negotiations foundered immediately. “Is there some reason I am someone who should know?”
“There is not, so far as I can tell,” Dirant confessed.
As frequently happens, a deal between two parties had to be extended to include a third for the sake of a more profitable result, much as when a shipwright goes to a purveyor of novel chemicals to fortify vessels against the perils and routine wear which trouble prospective buyers. “He has been in his room all day, tea excepted, dealing with family business,” Ibir reported. “That is from asking locals, guards, and so. The guards primarily.”
“Oh, I've heard about Myrmidon gossip networks, but I thought that applied within the government. As in, the lower ranks versus the higher ones,” Takki said.
Ibir scoffed both loudly and visibly. “It's the same among the Pavvus, then. Never does it occur to the lacies that we are simply talking and they might join in any time they can lower themselves to it. It all must be scuttlebutt meant to undermine them, must it not? But then, the feathers are the same when they suspect the thinboots of agitation. Istal told me how to gather information from all kinds, and most times it is as simple as asking.”
“Oh?”
Dirant leaned over toward Takki to indicate he was about to give supplemental information rather than make a fresh statement. “Istal is a common abbreviation for Istarank. Thinboots are regular soldiers. The term 'feathers' can refer to officers as a whole or specifically those of the middle ranks who often are Myrmidons because of the feathers in their caps. In most states, the generals and so have lace on their uniforms.”
“Oh, now I understand. Thank you, Ressi, and thank you, Mrs. Istarank. I'll think about what you said. Have you ever considered becoming a private investigator?”
She twirled a hand. “Many times. It is necessary for members of that profession to stay put in cities where the jobs are however, and I love travel so.”
If true, Dirant had never noticed, and not on account of an exceptional lack of awareness. The expressions around were similarly surprised. How pleasurable it was to impute a failure in understanding not to his own prideworthy Discernment but rather to a short acquaintance which might properly be corrected by means of convivial association.
Though not right then, as that wrapped up the emergency Stadeskosken meeting on the topic of preventing their client from being killed before he paid them. Repeat business and favorable testimonials had to be considered as well. Takki departed with Onerid and Ibir since Keiminops was temporarily unapproachable, Stansolt returned to his perusal of documents unlikely to be in his lawful possession, and Dirant decided to observe the local Ritualists for signs of murderous intent. He unearthed none such, but some crimes against best procedures required correction.
Another invitation to dinner at the home of Stanops Bodan-Tin came, perhaps the last unless a desire seized him to convert his residence into an arena where might be reenacted a summary of the entire history between the Adaban and Dvanjchtlivan tribes. Once his nephew described the most recent such reenactment, it would be nothing strange if Poiskops's absence from Dubwasef at the time rankled.
Before that, everyone who came to the dinner was paid the greatest attention by the host, whose enthusiasm could have filled more jugs than even he owned if distilled into a golden liquid. While the initiated understood his deep relief at the undoing of a plot against his life, all heard his shallower but nevertheless genuine appreciation for his new plates fashioned from a poolfoot's bones and his cups carved out of its feet.
“There is an appeal I find, a primitive one but compelling at that, in going without etchings and colored glazes when occasion allows,” Poiskops said while rotating his dark gray foot cup to let the chandelier's light cast patterns across it. “Like a king without a crown and robes who by his bearing and stern mien silences the mob. Stone and clay plain though, that's laziness or resourcelessness just as the common opinion holds. It's all in how it strikes us. You can't decide these things beforehand. Eizesl Eibmen there, when I requested he see to the work because he's the finest there is, held up the piece given him and asked what color I wanted, if any. If any! He knew, and then I knew it, and now you all know it, too. Another cupful, but water it down. We want the Eizesl's masterpieces to be appreciated, and when everything is praised, where is excellence?”