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'Now then, Mr DeWar,' Perrund said. 'You have delayed long enough. You must
tell me all about this ambassador assassin you foiled.'
DeWar told her as much as he felt he could about what had happened. He left
out the details of exactly how he had been able to respond so promptly to the
assassin's attack, and Perrund was too polite to press him further.
'What of the delegation that came with the Sea Company's ambassador?'
DeWar looked troubled. 'I think they knew nothing of what he intended. One of
them did, maybe. He had charge of the drugs the assassin had taken, but the
rest were ignorant.
Naive innocents who thought this was a great adventure.'
'Were they sorely questioned?' Perrund asked quietly.
DeWar nodded. He looked down at the floor. 'Only their heads are going back.
I'm told at the end they were glad to lose them.'
Perrund put her hand briefly on the man's arm, then drew it away again,
glancing at the eunuch in the pulpit. 'The blame lies with their masters who
sent them to their deaths, not with you. They would not have suffered less if
their plan had succeeded.'
'I know that,' DeWar said, smiling as best he could. 'Perhaps it might be
called professional lack of empathy. My training is to kill or disable as
quickly as possible, not as slowly.'
'So are you really not content?' Perrund asked. 'There has been an attempt,
and a serious one at that. Do you not feel this disproves your theory that
there is someone here at court?'
'Perhaps,' DeWar said awkwardly.
Perrund smiled. 'You are not really appeased by this at all, are you?'
'No,' DeWar admitted. He looked away. 'Well, yes; a little, but more because I
think I
have decided you are right. I will worry whatever happens and always put the
worst construction on it. I am unable not to worry. Worrying is my natural
state.'
'So you should not worry about worrying so much,' Perrund suggested, a smile
playing about her lips.
'That is more or less it. Otherwise one might never stop.'
'Most pragmatic.' Perrund leant forward and put her chin in her hand. 'What
was the point of your story about Sechroom, Hiliti and Leleeril?'
DeWar looked awkward. 'I don't really know,' he confessed. 'I heard the story
in another language. It doesn't survive the translation very well, and . . .
there was more than just the language that needed translation. Some of the
ideas and . . . ways that people do things and behave required alteration to
make sense, too.'
'Well then, you were mostly successful. Did your story really happen?'
'Yes. It really happened,' DeWar said, then sat back and laughed, shaking his
head. 'No, I'm jesting with you. How could it happen? Search the latest
globes, scour the newest maps, sail to the ends of the world. You will not
find Lavishia, I swear.'
'Oh,' Perrund said, disappointed. 'So you are not from Lavishia?'
'How can one be from a place that does not exist?'
'But you are from . . . Mottelocci, wasn't it?'
'Mottelocci indeed.' DeWar frowned. 'I don't recall ever telling you that.'
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'There are mountains there, aren't there? It is one of the . . . what are they
called, now?
The Half-Hiddens. Yes. The Half-Hidden Kingdoms. Unreachable half the year.
But a small paradise, they say.'
'Half a paradise. In spring and summer and autumn it is beautiful. In winter
it is terrible.'
'Three seasons from four would be sufficient to please most people.'
'Not when the fourth season lasts longer than the other three put together.'
'Did something like your story happen there?'
'Perhaps.'
'Were you one of the people?'
'Maybe.'
'Sometimes,' Perrund said, sitting back with a look of exasperation on her
face, 'I can quite understand why rulers employ torturers.'
'Oh, I can always understand,' DeWar said softly. 'Just not . . .' He seemed
to catch himself, then sat upright, pulling his tunic tighter down. He looked
up at the vague shadows cast on the softly glowing bowl of the light dome
overhead. 'Perhaps we have time for a game of something. What do you say?'
Perrund remained looking at him for a moment, then sighed and also drew
herself upright. 'I say we had better play "Monarch's Dispute". It is the one
game you might be suited for. Though there are also,' she said, waving to a
servant at a distant door, '"Liar's
Dice" and "Secret Keep".'
DeWar sat back on the couch, watching Perrund as she watched the servant
approach.
'And "Subterfuge",' she added, 'and "Blaggard's Boast" and "Whiff of Truth"
and
"Travesty" and "The Gentleman Misinformant" and . . .' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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