by Dave Dickie
“Very efficient,” I said. The old man and his dinner companion had the markings of a clandestine meeting, signs I knew too well. I doubted the two had arrived together. “And if you’re meeting someone here, how do you know where to find them?”
Sariel grinned. She had a very nice smile. “Look at your invitation.” I pulled it out of an inside pocket from my cloak. Below the name of the temple and time, on what had been blank parchment, there was text. “Private room, main dining section, balcony level, C-17.”
Interesting. The invitations were magicked up. Or god-ed up. I’d heard there was a difference between the two, but it fell in the “tastes like a duck” category. “And if you don’t have an invitation?” I asked.
“You don’t get in without an invitation,” she answered with a small smile.
“Very, very efficient,” I said. There were more questions I wanted to ask, like how they knew who was meeting whom so they ended up in the same place. I’m naturally curious that way. But Sariel crooked her finger at me, turned, and walked off with that mesmerizing sway of her hips. I wondered if she took lessons, then realized she probably did.
As we walked, I could see each alcove had a small brass plaque next to it with a letter and a number. We were already in the “C” section and sixteen sets of drapes later we stopped in front of the seventeenth. Sariel violated my personal space, leaning in to put her cheek against mine and her mouth next to my ear, but I found I didn’t mind. She whispered, “Your companion is already inside. When you’re finished, come on by and say hello. I can get someone else to cover the hall for me.” And then she brushed her lips against my cheek and walked off, leaving the scent of her perfume behind her. I took a couple of seconds to collect my thoughts and slow my heart rate.
When I was composed, I pulled the drapes aside and stepped in. The alcove, unlike the main dining room, was lit with regular candles, romantic but making it difficult to see after the brighter lights outside. There was a man sitting at the table, with a hat, mask and cloak discarded and hanging off a coat hook on the inside wall. He was already sporting a glass of wine. It took a few moments for his features to come clear as my eyes adjusted to the dark. And then I knew I was in about as far over my head as I could possibly be. I bowed. “My Lord Holder.” I held the bow. If there had been room, I would have gone down on one knee. The man was Leppol Dralusus, current head of Grafton Hold. Holds were organized in a hierarchy. At the top were the Great Holds, one for each of the nine provinces that made up Kethem. Grafton was a Great Hold, top of the food chain, making Leppol one of the nine most powerful people in all of Kethem. For all practical purposes he owned the city. The white beard, the hard, dark, brown eyes with bushy grey eyebrows, the strong chin, the mid-length brown hair, graying but still incongruous compared to the rest of his facial hair … his face was minted on coins.
Chapter Four
“Rise,” Leppol said, gruffly, and when I stood from my bow, “Sit.” I did as I was told. Kethem had come a long way in the past half century, and the concept of nobility had, if not vanished, at least faded during the years. The distinction between landowner and commoner was becoming more of a legal distinction than a division of class. And I still found myself feeling diminished, something less than the man in front of me. He sipped his wine and stared at me. I forced myself to meet his gaze. After a minute, he nodded as if satisfied. “Mister Driktend. I’ve heard about you. A truthsayer, a good one.” I didn’t suggest he call me Gur. Formality was not optional when dealing with a head of state. He went on. “That was a good piece of work you did on Veneti’s behalf.”
Veneti was a house, not a person, and I hadn’t actually done it on their behalf, but for the wife of one of their copper rings to investigate an accusation of rape against her husband. The Malilatinus Contistes was full of little quirks when it came to the law. A Holder could kill a commoner without cause, and the law required them to compensate survivors for the loss of income and that was about it. But some of the laws were “erga omnes” - apply to all equally - and rape was one of them. An underage girl had come forward claiming she had been assaulted, a truthsayer verified she was telling the truth. The penalty was hanging. It looked pretty open and shut until I questioned the girl and found strange gaps in her memory of the event. Pulling on those strings had led to enough evidence that her memories had been tampered with that the trial had allowed further evidence to be admitted. That had eventually been enough to prove the man hadn’t been involved. Which was, in some ways, unfortunate, because he was kind of a jerk, but my job wasn’t judging people, it was uncovering what happened. It was also one reason I thought people were too dependent on truthsayers and sorcery when it came to the law.
Leppol continued, “I know, of course, about your father, although I’d never met him personally.” My father was a touchy subject, one that I don’t care to discuss with many people, and certainly not the Lord Holder of a Great Hold, so I decided to ignore that bit.
I did a short, polite nod. “Thank you my Lord, and if I may suggest a minor correction, it’s truthfinder, not truthsayer.” People normally didn’t know how to react to that, since truthfinder was a word I’d coined myself to describe what I did. “I do not use sorcery to determine the accuracy of people's words. I investigate, I talk to interested parties, I follow and listen. When I understand, when I see a pattern, I find ways to prove that what I have surmised is what, in fact, happened. It is all logic and legwork, no special skill, no god powers, no spells.”
He nodded. “Truthfinder, then. And that is, in fact, what I am looking for.”
I weighed my options, but my gut told me Leppol was one of those people that would listen without bias and would never forgive someone wasting his time by wrapping their thoughts in subtle riddles intended to convey meaning without giving offense. That was rare in a Holder and I respected him for it. I went for something more direct. “I thank my Lord for the dinner invitation, but please forgive me if I say that seems improbable. You have hundreds of Hold members that could do the same, perhaps not with the same level of skill, but sheer weight of numbers would win out in the end.” The Veneti case led to other Holders hiring me at different times, but never anyone high enough in the hierarchy to command a Hold’s resources, never mind a Great Hold’s.
I saw a flash of anger and thought for a second he was going to tell me that my understanding wasn’t required, just my obedience, but he held himself back. There was a small cord hanging down the wall on his side of the table, and a similar one on mine. He pulled his. “We’ll order food, then talk.” I nodded and wondered what kind of chit chat I was supposed make with someone like him, but the drapes were pulled back almost immediately, as if someone had been standing outside waiting. Our server was a woman, in the same sheer blue dress as Sariel, but her wide leather belt had just a few gold threads in a very simple pattern. She had long black hair, warm brown eyes that were slightly almond shaped, and light brown skin. There was Stangri blood in her heritage. It made her beautiful and exotic. If there was a glamour I couldn’t tell. There was a man with her, tall, ruggedly handsome, in black, blocky leather shoes that had been polished until they glistened, dark cotton slacks, a white shirt and a black leather vest. The vest was decorated with gold thread that was reminiscent of the women's belts, a little more ornate than Sariel’s, a little less than Tessa’s. He bowed and the girl curtsied. The man said, “My Lord Holder, this is Kyung-chul, your servant for the evening.” Despite the introduction, I had the feeling that Leppol knew her already.
Kyung-chul was a Stangri name. She must be proud of her heritage, unusual, particularly for a woman, given women were chattel in that culture. But maybe she was playing the exotic card. Not that she needed any help making herself stand out.
Leppol grunted his satisfaction.
The man turned to me. “Master Driktend, welcome. My name is Aster. I understand this is your first visit to the temple.” He smiled slightly to let me know he knew it was my second
visit, but he wasn’t going to call that out in front of the Lord Holder. Once again, I found myself wondering how information on patrons was retrieved so effortlessly by Sambhal’s servants, from the head priestess to the newest acolytes. “If I may make a suggestion, I could provide a menu, but if you concur, I will select your food and beverage for the evening.”
I noticed neither he nor Kyung-chul were holding menus, but I’m not big on surprises and I know what I like. I was about to say so when Leppol held up his hand, stopping me. “Let the man do his job,” Leppol said. It wasn’t a suggestion. I nodded to Aster, who stared at me for a few seconds with rapt attention, presumably channeling his god in order to determine what I wanted for dinner instead of just asking me. Why a god would care eluded me, but then they have unfathomable motives, I’m told.
Finally Aster nodded. “Very good, gentlemen. Kyung-chul will let you know when your food has arrived. Privacy spells will be in effect as long as the drapes are closed.” He bowed deeply, and the two of them stepped out of the small room, letting the drapes close behind them.
I looked at the drapes. They were thick but I doubted they were sound proof. Leppol noticed my inspection. “Not to worry. If there’s one thing these Sambhal witches are good at, it’s keeping these things private. No one, including our servers, will hear anything.”
Nothing I had to say would matter. If he was confident, I wasn’t going to argue about it. Actually, with the Lord Holder of Grafton Hold, I wasn’t going to argue about anything. “Witches?” I asked. “Is my Lord on bad terms with the temple?”
He shrugged. “They serve a purpose. But I was speaking more from a theological standpoint. It wasn’t meant as an insult.” I realized he was talking about the demon-god controversy surrounding Sambhal. Which meant that I should probably take it more seriously when I had the time. He took a sip of his wine. “As to my need for your services. You earned the invitation to dinner by spotting Teppford. Whether we proceed from here remains to be seen.” I presumed Teppford was the Silver Ring that had been following me.
I gave him an inquisitive look. “May I ask my Lord why it was necessary to have me followed in the first place? You could have just sent the invitation without the cloak and dagger routine.”
He grunted. “One, I wanted to know if you were as good as your reputation implies. Two, I wanted to make sure you weren’t employed by any other interested party before I invited you to this meeting.” Clearly there were other players in whatever game was in progress. I felt it likely I would learn who soon enough. “As to why I need you. There is an investigation into a theft committed three days ago from the Bythe consortium. People died during the incident. Several Holds are investigating it. One of the possible suspects is a member of my Hold. We are not allowed to participate because of the resulting conflict of interest. However, I do not fully trust the other Holds to discover what happened. I’d like you to do an independent investigation.”
I frowned. “Independent as in independent of a specific Hold, or completely on my own?”
He shook his head. “I do not think it is practical to insert you into the investigation proper. Other Holds would object, and I don’t have any more say in such matters than anyone else. No, I want you to perform your own investigation, independent of the consortium.”
“Then, my Lord, I return to my original comment. It seems unlikely that one individual can have an impact when large numbers of Holders with money and sorcery are searching for the same thing, even if your Hold is excluded from the activities.”
“You will have Grafton Hold behind you. For money and sorcery, at least. My people cannot be involved directly in any way.” A Great Hold would have virtually unlimited resources to tap. “That, and you will have an advantage. Not many people do what you do. They depend on sorcery and oracles. Neither will work in this case. I think you are uniquely suited to the situation.”
“If my Lord would enlighten me on the details of what he would like me to do, I would be happy to confirm or deny that,” I said, curious.
He lounged back and said, “We need to come to an understanding first. I need you to find out certain things in a situation that requires a fair amount of discretion. There are aspects to this that affect the security of all of Kethem. I don’t want those aspects compromised. You take the job, you stick to what I’m hiring you for. You don’t go outside the lines, you don’t prod at things that are best left alone.” He was about to go on, but was interrupted by a soft chime. “Our dinner has arrived. We will continue talking after we’ve been served.”
He pulled the small cord and Kyung-chul pulled back the drapes and entered. There were two other women with her, beautiful but without Kyung-chul’s exotic eyes and skin tone. They had food and wine on platters. Leppol was served first, and Kyung-chul touched him lightly and smiled, asking if there was anything else she could provide. She had a dazzling smile. Leppol’s face had gone softer and he smiled back gently. “No, my dear, thank you, but I think we are set.” Her hand stayed on his arm for a moment longer while she glanced down shyly, lit softly by the flickering candles. Leppol seemed mesmerized. Personally, I didn’t buy Kyung-chul’s soft innocence for a second. If anything about the Sambhal temple had struck me, it was that they were all trained to be what they needed to be. Nothing was what it seemed in this place.
The other woman put a plate in front of me and a glass of white wine when the first server was finished with Leppol. I’m a beer drinker. So much for Sambhal’s caring about what I wanted for dinner.
After a few more pleasantries, the drapes were closed again and Leppol set to work on his meal. Mine appeared to be a white fish in cream sauce over a bed of rice, grilled vegetables, and what looked like a stuffed tomato covered in another kind of sauce, speckled green with herbs I couldn’t identify. Then the smell hit me and I spent the next few minutes trying everything, all of which fell on the hierarchy of delicious food about where Kyung-chul sat on the hierarchy of beautiful woman… at the top. I tried to avoid stuffing food into my mouth faster than I could swallow, but it was a struggle. Then I tried a sip of the wine and realized what all the hoopla over wine was about. I’m not a wine drinker, so I won’t talk about acidity, balance, overtones of green apple and whatnot. It was good. Very good.
Leppol gave a satisfied sigh. We were both far enough along that we could slow down a bit. “I wish these people would allow their chefs to serve in the Holds, teach the kitchen staff about how to prepare food.” I wasn’t sure it was that straightforward. Suddenly Aster’s creepy staring at me seemed like he was, perhaps, really pulling things I didn’t even know I’d like out of my head. Or my taste buds. I took another sip of the wine. Leppol looked up at me, grabbed his wine, and sat back. “So, as I was saying. You do this, you follow my rules.”
I nodded in understanding, but not necessarily agreement. I like to know what I’m getting into and I usually find the “why” and the “how” tend to have a lot of overlap. But there was no point pushing the issue. Leppol was clearly agitated. He said, “You find something to clear my man, let me put my people on the case, I’ll pay you one hundred thousand rimii.” That was more than I made in a year. “You recover the stolen object and return it to Grafton Hold, one million rimii.”
It was tempting. A million rimii was enough to retire on. But if I took that money, he would own me. More than he already did as a Lord Holder. “With all due respect, my Lord, I will charge my standard fees. Fifty rimii an hour, seventy five if the work entails some kind of danger, and given this involves people dying, I think we can assume that it does. You pay expenses if I need to purchase things or stay in an inn. I will submit an itemized bill to you listing hours and expenses.”
He looked at me like I was insane. And maybe I was. A million rimii was a tidy sum of money. But one thing seemed clear, and that was that nothing was clear. My independence was important. It gave me some space to maneuver. This was the kind of game where you ended up dead if you didn’t tread caref
ully, and I didn’t want to be in anyone’s pocket until I had some idea of what was going on.
Finally he nodded and said, “Agreed. Meet me tomorrow in my office in the morning and I’ll go over details with you.”
Chapter Five
After we were finished with dinner, Kyung-chul and her cohorts arrived to clear the dishes, and Leppol indicated the meeting was finished since he’d agreed to my terms. One of Kyung-chul’s retinue guided me away while she stayed in the room and spoke softly with Leppol. I wondered if he had other plans for the temple that evening, plans involving her. He had a wife and children and a complacency about his position in life, an easy overconfidence that I’d seen lead others down paths they should not have taken. But it seemed like the rules around the Sambhal temple were different. No disease, no “accidents,” no emotional attachment, no chance of word leaking out. Having made plenty of mistakes in my day, I try not to judge people too harshly, and giving in to temptation under those conditions would be an easy thing to do. The temple itself… the moral ambiguity of the place bothered me, regardless of Tessa’s little speech about the search for perfection, regardless of how Sambhal prevented unwanted complications. It just felt wrong.
