#starring grey-ace bi wingman(?) althea

[anghraine]

pro patria, chapters 8-14

And more Chaucer meme-GW2 fic (though with fewer footnotes)

title: pro patria (8-14/?) stuff that happens: Althea questions the guests at Minister Wi's party and faces the consequences. verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Lord Faren, Countess Anise, Logan Thackeray; Julius Zamon, Madeline Zamon, Reth, others; Althea & Faren, Althea & Anise, Althea & Logan chapters: 1-7

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EIGHT 1 Minister Wi greeted me with nothing short of delight. “Your name has been on everyone’s lips lately! Your presence honours me.” I doubted that my name had been on anyone’s lips; maybe the hero of Shaemoor, though. “Fights have a way of finding me,” I admitted. “Ah, if this city had a few more brave souls like you,” he told me, beaming, “the Charr would withdraw from Ascalon.” Oh, if only. 2 The minister’s wife fawned over me, which was far less pleasant than it sounded. She bombarded me with questions and compliments while the clock ticked on, and never said anything about Zamon. “I shall speak with my husband about securing you a position!” “Thank you, my lady, but please don’t bother on my account,” I said, and fled to the banquet tables. It was difficult to speak to the servants without drawing attention, but I managed it; most of them resolutely had nothing to say, just directing me to the cook, but one girl whispered that Lord Faren was (still) pining after Baroness Jasmina, while the baroness only seemed interested in—me! I suppressed a flicker of interest. I’d always liked Jasmina, and she was very pretty, but some things mattered more. 3 Faren, as if summoned by the thought, then strolled in from the east courtyard. When he caught sight of me, he grinned widely and waved, transparent as ever. I couldn’t help laughing and waving back; he might be a fool, but he was a loyal, good-natured one, and I had no intention of giving up a lifetime of friendship for a casual acquaintance’s infatuation. I headed across the room, still smiling, and found him healthy and immaculate. “There’s my heroic friend—say, could you hold off on the acts of valour for a bit?” he said, and promptly followed it with a tight embrace that lifted my feet right off the ground and just about smothered me to death in his cravat. I didn’t mind that much; it was Faren-ish for I missed you. He set me back down again with flawless grace and total disregard for how it might look to the others, then returned to his main concern: “Makes it hard to strike up a conversation with a pretty lass when she only wants to talk about you!” 4 Several minutes later, Faren was still monologuing: “I’ve been dying to speak with Baroness Jasmina all night, but she keeps talking about you and won’t believe we’re friends!” He looked deeply offended. “Can you believe that?” I could, honestly—we must seem an incongruous duo—but it was indeed very inaccurate. “Would you put in a good word for me?” he asked. All right, my plans for the evening had not involved smoothing Faren’s current road to romance, but he had said that he’d picked up some information, and—well, it was Faren. “Anything for an old friend,” I said warmly, and he hugged me again. 5 As soon as I greeted her, Jasmina gasped, her eyes wide; for once, Faren hadn’t exaggerated. “I was telling Lady Madeline I didn’t know if you would make it,” she said, “but here you are! I’m almost breathless.” No almost about it, but I forged on. “A good friend of mine said I should speak with you.” Doubtfully, she said, “Do you mean Lord Faren?” “Assuredly,” I told her, and not quite lying, went on, “He’s been my stalwart companion in all kinds of adventures!” 6 Within little more than a minute, I had Jasmina asking me to give Faren her regards. I gladly escaped her (and her definitely breathless maid) and headed back to my equally ridiculous friend. “Kormir strike me if she didn’t look impressed,” he whispered. “You’re a true friend!” “Think nothing of it,” I said, and then pressed on, “So what was it you wanted to tell me?” Remarkably, he managed to summarize; he remembered that I’d suspected a minister back when we cleared the bandit caves, and had since confirmed the suspicion, which sounded very competent. I eyed him skeptically. 7 “I was out with a, ah, a lady friend,” Faren explained (I rolled my eyes), “and I saw him leaving the woods near Gibson Portage. Alone, and most suspiciously!” “You’re certain he was alone?” I asked; those woods were seething with people, if not the sort that a minister (or Faren) would ordinarily condescend to notice. “He was dressed for a dinner party and sauntering through the woods like he was at a ball,” said Faren, and there I did trust his judgment. “Might that help your investigation?” I met his grin with one of my own. “It definitely does.” NINE 1 I drifted towards a nearby group of men, all of whom I recognized; they were, if not quite friends, familiar from any number of events, and rarely overawed by much. Currently, they seemed to be talking about an orphanage that had nearly burned down, apparently the doing of some arson-minded bandits. That seemed near enough my own investigation that I shifted uncomfortably; even Zamon would draw the line at leaving orphans to burn alive, surely …? "I'm appalled at the way our politicians turn a blind eye—someone should do something!" Faren said unexpectedly, and marched off towards nothing in particular. Nicholas Winters said, “I heard you saved that Faren dandy from ruffians—suppose you could let them hold on to him for a while next time?” “Really, Sir Nicholas,” I said coolly, “Lord Faren is my friend; I could never let them keep him.” Belatedly, it occurred to me that taking offense at every little thing—or anything at all—was a poor way to gather information. 2 I chatted lightly with the guests as I followed an indirect path towards Anise, picking up on nothing particularly valuable. She and I discovered an immediate need for punch. “I hope it’s everything you expected,” she said in her driest drawl. “Just be careful whom you trust.” “Tell me more about them,” I replied, and quickly added, “I know Lord Faren, obviously, but I want to hear what you know.” “A rascal and an incorrigible flirt,” said Anise, “but a good man.” I knew that much; she noted his brief flirtation with civic duty in the Ministry, and went on to tell me about Zamon’s sister Madeline (unmarried, waiting on their sick mother), Lord Benjamin (a gossipmonger), Sir Nicholas (nothing without money), Zamon (opportunistic but foolish), and Minister Wi, who turned out to be even richer and more powerful than I’d guessed—perhaps the most so in all of Kryta. 3 Corruption usually followed wealth, but I really couldn’t think it of loyal, good-natured Minister Wi—not without proof, anyway. “What can you tell me about Logan Thackeray?” I said; even beyond the investigations of the moment, I wanted more information about the man I was more or less taking orders from. “Charming and loyal, especially to his queen, but what you’d find interesting, I can’t tell you,” said Anise. “He comes from a troubled past.” Hm—I wouldn’t have expected that, if not for his odd reaction the other day in Seraph Headquarters. “Logan is in charge of the company that protects Divinity’s Reach,” Anise went on. “How fortunate that he’s near the queen, wouldn’t you agree?” 4 “Oh, very fortunate,” I replied, then took my leave to continue the hunt. I remembered the servants’ reference to the cook, and headed off to the kitchen. It took a little bit of work to overcome his surprise and general reservations, but the time proved worth it; when I mentioned Lady Madeline, he said, “I just saw her—she was arguing something fierce with her brother, the minister, and then he stormed off, yelling about ‘business to attend to.’ Something ain’t right there.” Indeed not. He also turned out to have suspicions about the presence of so many Ministry guards, which I thought wise, and remarked that Yolanda—one of my closer childhood friends—was on the hunt for conquests. “It’s a wonder Lord Faren hasn’t gotten himself in trouble there,” he said darkly, and I had to agree. 5 I left the cook to his meditations on the perfect process for making poached moa eggs, then decided to see if Yolanda had anything useful to say. She was an inveterate gossip, so one of the more likely to store up information that might seem useless to anyone else. “I thought you’d be doing gallant deeds with our own dashing Captain Thackeray,” she said. “Not at the moment, I’m afraid.” With a very little encouragement, she told me that our old friend Corone was furious over a theft—the latest of many in Salma—and offering a reward, and that Edmonds was drinking like the dragons would devour us before the morning. “What’s the story with you and Countess Anise?” she said, startling me more than Fursarai had. “I saw you speaking to her.” 6 It took a moment to grasp where Yolanda’s train of thought had taken her, as if it ever took her anywhere else. “She’s an old friend of my family,” I said repressively. Yolanda, who was genuinely good-natured beneath her gossip and various follies—very much like Faren, in fact—looked delighted. “I knew the countess had peers and admirers,” she said, “but friends? How enlightening! With juicy tidbits like that, you can trade gossip with me anytime!” “I … of course,” I said, and regretfully suspected that I would. 7 By then, I’d spoken with virtually everyone on the first floor. That only left Lady Madeline and Lord Benjamin, whom I’d noticed talking on the stairs, and anyone on the second floor who might know something. I withdrew to the (comparative) quiet of the courtyard, calculating my next step. Madeline was my best bet, but also the one that could most easily go wrong; she was well-known to be passionately loyal to her family. Jasmina’s handmaiden—Faren had sensibly left them to their own devices for now—shifted towards me while I thought, then blurted out, “I so admire the things you’ve done. Throughout the city, women like me wish they could be more like you.” I stared at her, then smiled; I’d never thought of that. TEN 1 “I believe you were at Lord Faren’s party,” I said to Madeline Zamon, determined not to fumble this opportunity. As a ‘hero,’ I had my weaknesses—a dependence on speed and cunning over strength, dodging and running to wear my opponents down, sneaking among my illusory selves, letting them absorb attacks that might have left Mother with two dead daughters. But I knew how to talk. Lady Madeline agreed that she had been there, and with a touch of wistfulness, added that she didn’t get the chance very often; she’d moved to the countryside to help her mother, although both she and her brother had been born in Divinity’s Reach. “Minister Julius Zamon is your brother?” I said, and smiled. “You must be very proud of him.” Madeline bit her lip. 2 “Yes, but I wish that … ah, forgive me, I shan’t burden you with my worries,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. Please burden me, I thought, but had the sense not to say; she already seemed to be wavering, clearly wanted to tell what she knew—but charm or her own caution wouldn’t bring it out. A direct approach, I decided. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” I said, “but I have reason to believe your brother is a traitor.” Her eyes flew wide open, lifting up to stare at me. “That can’t be—he wouldn’t … no—I’d like to believe he wouldn’t, but …” “I beg you, Lady, tell me what you know!” 3 Anise had taught me how to underscore or soften my words; I stepped fractionally nearer, not menacing, just earnest. “Lives could be at stake.” “What about my mother’s life?” demanded Madeline. “We must consider the greater good, my lady,” I said flatly. She flinched, but told me, “Gods, I knew it would come to this! He was visiting Mother when a strange man came by—Julius gave him some papers, but he wouldn’t say what the were, even when I asked.” I’d barely absorbed this when she took an uneven breath, and added, “It got worse.” 4 I nodded as encouragingly as I could, and it seemed to be good enough; she exhaled, then said, “Julius left more packages at our mother’s house for suspicious characters to pick up; I came here to confront him, but he refused to discuss it and stormed off.” Not proof, but certainly suspicious; I blocked all sign of triumph from my face, and asked, “Would you be willing to testify on this matter at a trial?” She blanched. “A trial? Oh, Julius, what have you done? May Kormir guide and Dwayna protect me—yes, I will testify.” “You are doing a great service to all Divinity’s Reach,” I assured her. 5 One of the Ministry guards took my questions poorly, assuming that I’d only doubted the necessity of such a large contingent because of someone called Reth. That seemed promising, so I casually searched the room for him to no effect, then accepted Minister Wi’s proud hint that he’d also opened up the upstairs for the party, and that other guests mingled up there. I climbed the winding staircase, meeting with a guard at the door. “How might I help you?” he said. I couldn’t see any others, so I took my chance. “Is it normal to have this many guards at a personal event?” He looked as uneasy as Madeline had. 6 “I … I’m afraid it is not,” he admitted, and now I felt sure it was Reth. “I’m not certain why we’re here, precisely.” “It sounds like you have your suspicions,” I said, keeping my tone neutral and courteous. “Perhaps,” allowed Reth, “but it’s risky for us to be seen talking.” He paused. “Also, I’m parched—it would look more natural if a kind noble simply offered a hardworking guard a drink.” Holy Kormir, I thought: I’d found someone competent. 7 Fetching a cup of wine from downstairs, I handed it to Reth and murmured, “To anyone watching, I’m just a kindhearted noble, and you’re just a grateful guard.” He nodded, looking at once hesitant and relieved. “Burglaries and kidnappings are increasing, yet here we sit, idle; lately, the Guard is never where it’s needed most.” I met his glance with an even stare; that couldn’t be all. “I heard what you did in Shaemoor,” he said quickly, “and I know you’ve got Thackeray’s ear.” I didn't know that. With a gulp, Reth went on, “What I’m telling you could get a man killed.” ELEVEN 1 “Our orders arrive just before the raids,” Reth whispered. “It’s as if someone is sending us away so bandits can swoop in unchallenged.” My mind leapt ahead, but I said cautiously, “You think there’s a deeper connection, someone in the Ministry Guard working with the bandits directly?” The caution paid off. Reth swallowed and said, “Higher than that; the orders come from Minister Zamon himself.” Three testimonies of Zamon’s guilt, I thought; that should be enough to seal his coffin. After a manner of speaking. 2 “Please do something with this information!” Reth pleaded, though still quietly. I let my gaze drift around the room, keeping my posture loose and idle; it was easy, with Faren as my best friend. Nobody seemed to have noticed the outburst, however, or anything else we’d said. “I will,” I told him. “Now, enjoy your drink. I’ve got someone I must speak with.” I couldn’t wait to see the look on Anise’s face. 3 I made my way downstairs, but couldn’t find Anise in the main room, and couldn’t appear suspicious; instead, I hovered by a refreshment table, trying to think of what she might be up to. “Oh, you’re here!” squeaked a familiar voice: Lady Mashewe, a sweet but painfully shy friend of my family’s. “It’s a pleasure to see you—I adore Minister Wi’s parties, but there are so many people talking, I’m afraid to strike up a conversation.” I blinked when I turned towards her; she’d chopped and curled her hair just like mine. Smiling, I told her, “Someone as charming as you shouldn’t be so shy!” Lady Mashewe flushed and said, “Flatterer—you’ve been spending too much time with Lord Faren!” I didn’t like her any less; it was only an awkward joke, and she meant well; but, gods above, could that be the last time tonight that someone felt the need to insult my best friend to my face? 4 The gods, as usual, weren’t listening. After wishing Lady Mashewe well, rather more abruptly than I’d intended, I headed to the courtyard where I’d left Jasmina and her handmaiden. Perhaps Anise had made some dazzling discovery there, or … Halfway down the path, I froze. I didn’t see Anise, or Jasmina, or even the handmaiden. Only Minister Zamon. He’d arrived at last. 5 At the sight of me, Zamon’s lip curled into something that couldn’t be called a smile. “The hero of Shaemoor deigns to join Minister Wi’s party,” he said coldly. “Is that your official title now? Has ‘Lady Althea’ lost its lustre?” The infuriating thing about Zamon was that, for all his many limitations, he had a truly uncanny way of scenting weak spots. “It’s an affectionate nickname, sir,” I said, and returned his sneer. “If you had ever inspired affection, you’d understand.” 6 “Did you just insult me?” he cried, as if I’d never done it before—and as if he hadn’t insulted my family for years. “Perhaps Minister Wi should hear about his guest’s rude behaviour.” High words from a traitor. I shrugged and said, “By all means, let’s see how he reacts to your childish, boorish blather.” Predictably, he backed off like the coward he was. “Bah! You’re not worth my time, you preening jackanapes.” 7 If he hadn’t betrayed the queen, he wouldn’t have been worth mine. I exhaled, repressing a flash of real anger, and arranged my features into polite contempt, no more. Before I could say anything, however, or even leave, he snarled, “Go wallow in the filth with that hedonistic pig Faren and leave me be.” Despite myself, my hands clenched into fists; for one wild moment, I longed to blast him off his feet, whip my magic right through him until he begged us both for mercy. I could; I had the clones, even had a focus hidden in my clothes— “Better a pig than a snake,” I said, and bowed with a smile. A pity we’d given up trial by combat.

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1) The gods, as usual, weren’t listening: the silence of the Six Gods is a major component of humanity's current struggle for survival. 

-------------------------------------------------------- TWELVE 1 I just managed not to storm out of the courtyard. “Althea, you look like murder,” said Faren cheerfully. “I hope you didn’t leave any bodies behind?” “Not today,” I said. Not quite lying, I added, “Zamon’s out there—he must have returned while I was upstairs. You know how he is.” Faren, no doubt remembering what he’d seen, grinned at me and said, “Oh, I know.” 2 After exchanging a few idle nothings, I asked Faren and his pseudo-friends if they’d seen Anise; fortunately, she’d emerged from wherever she had gone, and stood near the entrance to the manor. Beside her stood Captain Thackeray. It felt as if tight bands had been wrapped about my lungs, only noticeable because they dropped away when I caught sight of my true allies. I made my way across the room without even trying for subtlety. “You’ve been a busy little bee, haven’t you?” said Anise, eyes sharp and focused. “I presume you’ve gotten the information we need?” Finally letting triumph break through my expression, I grinned at her and said, “More than I had hoped.” 3 “I’ve identified witnesses who will testify that Zamon had dealings with bandits,” I told them. Anise looked immensely satisfied, even smug—more so than usual, like a teacher showing off a prize pupil. I supposed that in a way, she was. Captain Thackeray gave me a respectful nod. “I’d love to throw Zamon in a cell, but politics have my hands tied,” he said. “At least with this evidence, we’ll be able to call him to trial.” I couldn’t wait. 4 Something beyond my shoulder seemed to catch Anise’s attention, amused anticipation filling her face. “Speak of the fiend and he appears,” she said. “Logan, it seemed Minister Zamon has arrived. You’re free to do your duty.” I turned about. Zamon stood near the center of the room, talking with a tipsy lady I didn’t know and Lord Benjamin. Captain Thackeray marched straight towards him, leaving everyone in the way to scatter out of his path. I suspected that people often scattered out of Logan Thackeray’s path. 5 “If it isn’t Logan Thackeray,” drawled Zamon. “I’m sorry, Captain Thackeray. To what do I owe this honour?” Captain Thackeray drew himself up to his full, towering height, and thundered out, “As Captain of the Seraph in the service of her Royal Majesty, Queen Jennah, I call you to trial!” Zamon’s jaw dropped, eyes bugging out in an expression that I immediately committed to memory. I might face darker moments in the future, but I would always have the look on Zamon’s face to comfort me. Wallowing in filth, indeed. 6 “What?” he sputtered. “This is an outrage! I demand to know the charge!” “Treason against the crown and citizens of Kryta,” said Captain Thackeray, voice touched by the same satisfaction I’d seen in Anise’s face. “May Kormir judge your words justly, and may Dwayna have mercy on you.” Kormir had blessed me all my life. I spared a moment to pray that she would grant justice to Julius Zamon. 7 A swarm of Seraph immediately marched inside, ignoring the gasps and exclamations of the crowd to march—nearly drag—Zamon away. I was going to remember that one for the rest of my life, too. “My, we’ve certainly gone and kicked the hornet’s nest here,” Anise remarked, sounding as unconcerned as she looked. “The moment we’re out of earshot, the place will be absolutely aflame with gossip.” “See you at the trial, then,” I replied, the corner of my mouth twitching up. “Thanks for a memorable party.” With a light laugh, Anise said, “Any time.”

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1) Kormir had blessed me all my life: the human PC is always blessed from childhood by one of the gods.

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THIRTEEN 1 In the babbling hubbub that followed Zamon’s arrest, I managed to forge a path towards Faren. For all my affection, I knew better than to trust his, ah, faculties in a crisis. “I knew it!” he said triumphantly. “I knew he was the one!” I patted his shoulder. “Hurry home and tell everyone what happened. I’ll see you soon.” 2 As I turned about, reassuring and shepherding the guests, a group of Ministry guards came trooping downstairs; the others marched off, but Reth halted, looking exhausted—was he thinking of rescinding his testimony? “I’m tired, hero,” he said when I approached, “tired of the lies and the politics, tired of seeing people like Zamon get away with everything. I hope you make these charges stick.” So did I; not sure what else to do, I promised that we’d do our best. “If you ever need a night off, Reth,” I told him, “there’s a little inn down at the Salma District—I’ll gladly buy you a beer.” I paused, then reached out and shook his hand gratefully. “Take care.” 3 And that was that. Minister Wi, capable as ever, restored order faster than I would have imagined possible, smoothly ushering the guests out with guards to protect them from any more of Zamon’s plots. I left him to it, returning to Salma and delivering a carefully edited account of the night's events to my mother. “If only I’d known!” she said, guilt all over her face. “I knew he was lying scum, but not a traitor.” “Nobody could have known,” I told her. “And I can take care of myself, Mama.” Even now, she looked unsure. 4 It was dawn by the time that my nerves relaxed enough for rest. I all but collapsed into my bed and let myself sleep a good ten hours; I suspected I’d need it. Sure enough, Minister Caudecus allowed only two days of preparation for the trial. I worked every moment of those days, preparing the witnesses and drafting my arguments and counter-arguments. But I forced myself to sleep through the second night; I wanted to be entirely alert for the trial. In the event, I was wiser than I knew. 5 At the Ministry, I immediately directed myself towards Anise and Captain Thackeray, who were talking about a pig for some reason. Anise, with her usual flawless instincts, turned the instant that I fell within earshot. “Now then, my young friend,” she said, “are you ready to present the case?” “I’ve gone over everything a dozen times,” I assured her. “Unless something goes horribly wrong, we’ll get our man.” Captain Thackeray actually looked pleased. “At this rate,” he said, “Queen Jennah’s sure to notice you.” 6 I started. I didn’t—but he knew the queen better than anyone, surely—but I hadn’t acted out of any expectation of royal favours, hadn’t so much as thought about it—but— “If nothing else,” he added, “I’ll make sure your name reaches her ears.” I eyed him doubtfully. With one of her wry smiles, Anise said, “Do you know her name, Logan?” “Of course I do,” said Captain Thackeray automatically. Then he paused. 7 “Lady A … Al …” He scowled, more at himself than us. “Sorry, I’m not very good with names.” Clearly—but that was, at least, better than I’d anticipated. Then he shook his head, as if clearing it of some fog. “What am I thinking? It’s Lady Gwen, isn’t it?” Anise and I just laughed.

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1) It’s Lady Gwen, isn’t it?: the original Althea and Gwen were probably the two most iconic Ascalonian women of the Searing era, with the saintly Althea burned alive, and Gwen enslaved before embarking on a path of bloody vengeance. So Logan actually does know the name at some level, enough for a vague association with the Searing, even though he selects the wrong namesake. The implacable Gwen just comes to mind more immediately in connection with this Althea, particularly as she's his own ancestress.

--------------------------------------------------------- FOURTEEN 1 “Lady Althea Fairchild,” said Anise, with a grandiose gesture at me. He snapped his fingers. “Lady Althea—that’s it!” “Althea,” I said firmly. On a whim, I extended my hand. He didn’t kiss it, thank the gods, as Faren or his companions would have done in his position, just clasped his fingers about it in a strong grip. “Logan,” said Captain Thackeray. 2 We shook hands, less like a court favourite to a subordinate ally than two warriors meeting for the first time. I was no warrior, certainly none to compare with Logan Thackeray, but it felt true in its own way. It also felt bizarre in its own way. Not that many weeks ago, I’d known him only as the great Captain Thackeray, hero of Divinity’s Reach, and rushed to the gates of Shaemoor for that reason. Now we stood together as Anise and Logan and Althea, plotting the downfall of a minister here in the very heart of Krytan politics. “Minister Caudecus is waiting,” Anise said, in her pragmatic way. “Good luck, and may Lyssa bless you with unparalleled eloquence.” 3 I’d never felt that Lyssa blessed me with much of anything, except a measure of cunning—and her magic, of course. Perhaps today would be different. “I’m a loyal servant of the crown,” muttered Captain Thackeray (Logan was going to take awhile), “but if Zamon gets off, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.” Anise and I had our own way of doing things, but still—it was good to know that, all else failing, we could depend upon the captain to solve problems with his sword and shield. It came as a relief, really. I’d known straightforward people, and I’d known competent people, but rarely both at once. “Good to know,” I said. 4 The trial of a minister had drawn so many observers that I didn’t see Faren right away; only the ripple in the crowd that accompanied Madeline Zamon’s arrival made him visible. As soon as I saw him, however, I headed through the crowd as determinedly as Logan himself. “What do you think they’ll do if Zamon’s found guilty?” someone said. Another replied, “Absolutely nothing—nobles never pay for their crimes.” We’d see about that. As soon as I emerged from the cluster nearest him, Faren grinned widely, his face lighting up; with nary a greeting, he exclaimed, “Don’t you worry one bit!” Well, that was reassuring. 5 “When it’s my turn to testify,” he went on grandly, “I’ll make your case for you—it’s going to be monumental!” Faren was, if nothing else, entirely Faren. I smiled back at him. “So, you feel ready then?” “I’m more than ready,” he cried, even more excitable than usual. Natural for the occasion, but I still wondered a bit until he added, “Zamon sent one of his sock puppets to try and bribe me away!” My eyes widened. 6 “I don’t think he realizes how rich I actually am,” Faren said disdainfully. “The nerve!” I hadn’t expected such … remarkable unsubtlety. Looking around, I could see that all three of my witnesses had arrived—and Reth wouldn’t have Faren’s and Madeline’s fortunes to fall back on. If Zamon had tried with all of them, he’d almost certainly failed. “You turned him away?” “Of course,” said Faren, with something like dignity. 7 Then he laughed, high and gleeful. “The big, stinky puppet tried to intimidate me, but I demonstrated my dexterity with the blade, and he went running back to Papa!” I decided that might fall somewhere in the proximity of a truth, anyway. “Ladies’ll do anything for a hero,” he went on, “if you know what I mean.” He gave a conspiratorial wink. I shook my head. “Whatever you say, Faren.”

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1) here in the very heart of Krytan politics: the storyline is officially called “Krytan politics.”

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