Progress Often Is The Result, Not Of Something Novel Being Found, Bur Rather When The Value Of Something Long Known Is Later Realized
“I may own one of these,” he commented.
“No you don't,” Takki said. Then his peculiar tone caused her to reassess her response. “Do you? I'm sorry if that sounded dismissive. I thought you were making a joke.”
“Are my jokes that insubstantial? We must speak more on that later. I do own a statue similar to these in style, and identical to this one in particular in nearly all respects. I took it from an otter. Whether it is a genuine ancient artifact I cannot say. Will you continue looking for the globe while I fetch it?”
“Ressi! You told me you couldn't invent mysteries at will. Hurry up!” At Takki's jubilant urging he walked as fast as he judged seemly down the stairs to the first floor, exited, passed through the attendees either taking breaks in the cool evening outdoors or waiting for late arrivals, and dashed at top speed toward the Millennium House once he cleared the grounds. The top speed of a 34 Muscle Ritualist impressed sloths and no other beast of the field or sky, but he returned with his statuette box in hand before Audnauj, Takki, and Mr. laGabohnsay finished their inspection of the fourth floor, which was given over to divination. They agreed the icon resembled those on display but could say nothing authoritative.
Fortune-telling and scamming were terms also used by the milling exhibit-enjoyers who possessed nothing of the gravity felt a floor down. Instead, men and women giggled and laughed as they investigated the gathered tools and methods. Sky charts labeled with the names of constellations drawn from various cultures across history as determined by historians unafraid to guess, knives for extracting the organs of cattle along with texts to explain their various meanings, monstrous bones painted and carved which some soothsayer once threw to the ground in the fullest expectation of a practicable result, a metal plate etched with designs of unknown import, and far more, much of it difficult to understand, reflected humanity's desperation to predict what was to come. The Eight-Way Scale occupied the place of honor there, and unlike the Myriad Puzzle, select attendees had permission to try it out and see in which of eight directions their futures tended.
“Forgive my knowledge of politics, as none would be better, when I say that looks like the Kitslof representative in the Entessihotka at the Scale now.” Dirant knew that only because Stadeskosken had moved a piano for that luminary on a day when nothing had needed preserving.
“We're in more exalted company than I thought,” Audnauj said. “Makes me feel silly for presuming I'd stand out in some way.”
Perceiving that Mr. laGabohnsay seemed ill at ease, Dirant guessed at the reason and decided to apply some exposition. “Though in some ways the general assembly known as the Entessihotka compares to the peerage of Redrin, that is only when it actually sits in deliberation. Furthermore, its composition changes regularly and consequently its representatives are not held in such esteem as lords are.” That ought to solve the problem if the Picker felt uncomfortable at having no idea what was being discussed. If instead the man was working up his courage to ask where the closest facilities for private relief might be, there are some battles a man must fight alone.
Some other allegedly divine relics ruled over other rooms on the fourth floor, inscrutable as to their function and eerie when their impeccable condition was considered. Scholars guessed they had something to do with divination more because so many other items did than from any real evidence. Since the function of the globe was well understood, it was not included among them.
The fifth floor fell short as far as enchanting exhibits. The first room they visited contained some weapons and armor, the second coverings draped over cases not ready to be viewed, and the third some Stegzins. The keen observer might have noticed that for all the long, clinging silk dresses on the women and silk shirts equipped with ruffles on the men, they carried themselves like security personnel. The experienced observer, on the other hand, looked right at a woman whose long, golden hair covered her perhaps more than did her dress and recognized her as the leader of a band of attempted eardron thieves.
The gasps of the newcomers drew her attention, and she responded in kind. Then she rattled off some imperative-sounding words to one of her people, tried to cover her face nonchalantly with her elbow, gave up on that, and turned three-quarters away from the witnesses. The Stegzin man, presumably acting on her orders, addressed the four visitors in Dvanj. “We are very sorry, but we are in the position of having to restrict access to this floor.”
Audnauj looked around at the other attendees gliding from room to room. “No, I don't think so. Definitely not, in fact. Say, is it true you fellows have a special class called Ninja? Exciting stuff. What do you charge for lessons if I can find someone qualified for it? That would really get people talking if I showed up with one at the next mustering.”
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The Stegzin gaggle tromped over like an animal with twenty feet. Their blonde-headed head began to hiss words her underling translated at a similar volume. “Dust should get along with dust. That's a standard greeting for strangers meeting for the first time, which we are, and anyone who tries to contradict that will cause a lot of trouble so there's no reason to do it and ANYWAY if we had met, you would have been interrupting a very important endeavor to fortify this exhibition so don't think anyone would thank you.”
“That's a lot to take in, but it's clearly wrong. Did Mr. Vogdi JomOdro order you to engage in a lot of thuggery in Lesser Redrin? That was grounds for a serious incident between our countries, you know. In fact, I think I have to insist you come with me.” Lord Audnauj Olzenchipt Stavripdeu Blawraj began to draw the sword nobody on the staff had been brave enough to try taking away from him. Battler Millim Takki Atsa, for her part, had left her halberd in the hotel because it clashed with her rings, but her fists versus a Ninja was a fight with which no bookmaker would bother.
The blonde lady turned directly toward them and began gesturing with every limb available to her. Though unfamiliar with Yosribdi, the four in front of read a message in her wild eyes: “I am panicking right now. This is terrible. Accepting this assignment was a mistake.” The translation turned out a bit different, but the subtext was there.
“I'll concede so we can get somewhere. My name is Deliëraï JemmzIszti. I have been acting as the officer of a detachment of elite infiltrators to conduct an operation in Stegzi's state interest that is not at all opposed to Redrin's, though I understand why you would think so.”
“Yes. It is because you attacked us.” Dirant's logic impressed most listeners including Takki, who would have nodded had she not refused to make any motion that might compromise her readiness for the potential upcoming fight.
“Nobody got hurt! We wanted eardron and nothing else. We were going to rig up an alarm system our technical department devised. If something happens to Mr. JomOdro or his collection while they're under our protection, and if they hear about it in Yosrobzi Vugri, Stegzi might stop being Stegzi before too long. We rely on the kindness of all our beautiful near-neighbors not to turn us into a province. In that same spirit we tried to buy eardron legitimately, but Chunawm Metals told us it was all earmarked for some ridiculous horse statue. Isn't that funny?” Her laughter sounded a little uncontrolled in pitch. The translator did not attempt to replicate it.
“Well!” Audnauj was taken aback. Dirant acted to defend him.
“It is no easy job you have to persuade us your needs ought to be preferred over those of a lordly house even to the extent of asking us to overlook more felonies than my lack of legal education has prepared me to name. I am not insensible to the chagrin doubtless felt at the indefensible position your responsibilities have constrained you to embrace, and please understand that I do not imagine everything you say to be your authentic opinion. Even so, I must point out you made every effort to steal eardron in order, you claim, to reduce the chance of a theft that itself is no sure thing, whereas Lord Audnauj, this man here peerless in his aristocratic countenance you must agree, will follow the law and without doubt erect a statue that will gladden Yumins who exist for certain and have great burdens placed upon them, as we all do. We may go further and remember, as we look upon this wondrous collection, that every piece within it was once commissioned just as Lord Audnauj's horse statue was. Who is to say that a hundred, four hundred, or eight hundred years hence, that same statue may not grace a collection of this same sort and bequeath to our descendants the beauty and insight into the ways of their forefathers it is the responsibility of every generation to provide as its legacy? And still you contend your behavior is what it ought to be, for so superior are your intentions?”
Some of the Stegzins smiled and made a meaningful-seeming gesture of four raised fingers when the translation finished, though that ceased at their superior's glare. She turned it on the visitors to less effect and said, “I will put that aside for now as an unproductive topic. Is there something troubling you that is susceptible to our help?”
Dirant took that as a concession, whether correctly or not he lacked the cultural awareness to ascertain, though he was in fact correct. “This man,” he indicated the Picker, “must hold in his hands the globe which depicts the entire world for a duration of . . .”
“Eighty seconds, sir.”
“Eighty seconds. Please arrange this.”
“Eeeeee.” The head Ninja exhaled while she thought. “That's tough. That's a definite ice-packed harbor you're trying to reach. The display for the Globe of Avans is still being prepared, and even if I let you see it, to touch it . . . fffffff.” She inhaled just as lingeringly. “Mr. JomOdro would have to give permission, but for you to talk to him is impossible.”
“Do you say so because he then may learn of your activities on Lesser Redrin?”
“No! No, no. No. NO!” So the answer was yes, Dirant concluded.
“Suppose we commit ourselves to not doing so.”
Though the way the head operative bit her thumb did nothing for her dignity, it did impart an impression of sincere consideration on her part rather than implacable obstructionism. “Errrrr. I'm not sure. He's hard to approach. The briefing told us he's a man of many affairs in the old country who finds ways to make time for visitors, but right now he only thinks about relics, ruins, dinky little idols . . .”
“Ah, and so Mr. JomOdro has an interest in this sort of thing or?” Dirant withdrew his ritually discovered statue from the box.