Steven Brust - Jhegaala

The groom led Marsi down a path and out of sight, and I made my trembling way up the three steps—they seemed much deeper steps when trying to climb them than just looking at them—and leaned against the door for a moment before pulling the rope. I heard a gong echo faintly from inside the house, and not long thereafter the door swung open.

The butler—for so I took him to be, and so he was—looked very much the part. He could very well have been picked for his appearance: tall and well-built, clean-shaven, with a proper fringe of white hair. He gave me a bow and a look of polite, noncommittal inquiry.

I said, "Baron Vladimir Merss to see His Lordship."

"You have a card, my lord?"

"I do not."

His face betrayed nothing. "May I convey to His Lordship the nature of your business?"

"Give him this." I removed the silk package and handed it to him.

"Very good, my lord." He bowed and went away with it.

Ten minutes later he returned with the package; the seal had been broken. I took the package with a small bow and replaced it in my cloak without looking.

The butler-cleared his throat and said, "The Count will see you now."

7

Lefitt: Oh, gracious. Here? What will I wear? Oh, my. I never know how to speak t o nobility . Boraan: My dear, you are nobility . Lefitt (distracted): Yes . That is why I have given over talking to myself .

— Miersen, Six Parts Water Day One, Act III, Scene 3

He turned and led me into the interior of the manor. I followed, carefully keeping the smirk off my lips.

There was a certain kind of restrained opulence about the manor—its corridors wide and high; its halls hung with pictures of, I presume, ancestors; its furnishings sturdy and elegant without being gaudy. I approved of it a little bit against my will. I saw four menat-arms during the passage; they seemed to be concentrating on not being bored. They looked like the others, but didn't have metal hats on. I only hoped, for their sakes, that when I was out of sight they got to lean against the wall and scratch themselves.

He led me up a winding set of stairs to a hallway covered in white carpeting with a highly polished tan wooden railing on the side overlooking the central hall. Two more guards stood before it, and they exchanged a look with the butler, then, very quickly, crossed their tall ax-things, barring the door. Rocza almost jumped from my shoulder at the sudden movement, and Loiosh was pretty startled as well. So was I. Before I had time to wonder, the guards snapped back into place, clearing the way again.

At the same time the butler stepped forward and said—how to tell you what he said? It was silly, and it rhymed, but it's hard to translate to get the feel right. The closest I can come is, "Baron Vladimir Merss, on bended knee, requests my lord the Count to see," but it was longer than that, and even stupider. In Fenarian, everything rhymes, so it could have been an accident that this did, but I don't think so. If I hadn't been so surprised, I think I'd have laughed out loud.

The Count was in the room that, I've no doubt, he called his "study." He was old, old, old, old. A big man, though he somehow looked shrunken as he sat. His hands, crossed on the desk in front of him, were lined and wrinkled with veins standing out. His eyes were mild and there were more veins apparent in his nose. His hair and stiff mustaches were iron gray. His complexion was swarthy—about like mine—but had an unhealthy look to it. He wore a sort of red mantle over what looked like blue velvet, which made him look both bigger and more sickly; there was some sort of intricate scrollwork decorating the mantle; very likely it spelled out his lineage or something.

This was my first encounter with the Nobility of my homeland. I was underwhelmed.

His voice, however, was strong. "Baron Merss," he said. "Forgive me if I do not rise."

"My lord Count," I said, bowing deeply. "Thank you on behalf of Her Majesty for seeing me."

"Please, sit. Of course. Wine? Brandy?"

"Wine would be nice."

He rang a bell on his desk. The butler entered, was told to bring in a glass of wine and a snifter of something he called barparlot. He left and returned fast enough that I might have suspected he'd had them ready.

"Well," said the Count as he raised his glass and I raised mine. "I trust the Empress wishes for paper?"

I'd half expected it, but I still love it when they hand it to you on a platter; he'd just done ninety percent of my work for me. I did the rest: I nodded.

"No doubt, you will wish to see the facilities?"

"And bring back samples, of course."

"Of course." He hesitated. "May I ask, my lord..." He trailed off.

"Why I've been staying in town without letting you or anyone know my business?"

He smiled. He had most of his teeth, though there was one in front on the bottom that was missing.

I shrugged. "I wanted to observe things from an outsider's perspective first. I wanted to see the setting, watch the deliveries go out, speak to some of the workers, that sort of thing."

"Just to buy paper?"

I gave him a smile, and let him interpret it however he wished.

He grunted a little. "I am not involved much in the day-to day activities of the mill, you know."

"Mill?"

"The paper mill."

"Oh," I said.

"I take it you aren't an expert on paper?"

I laughed. "Hardly. Merely a human with the good fortune to be trusted by Her Majesty. I am not expected to make informed judgments about the paper, just about the people involved."

"It seems odd," he said, "that the Empire would look to our little kingdom for something like this."

I grinned. "No, it doesn't, my lord. If it had seemed odd, you'd not have known my purpose so quickly. In fact, I would venture to guess that you have been expecting someone like me for some time."

He nodded. "Well, yes. You are aware—or, perhaps, your Empress is, or one of her bureaucrats—that here is made the finest paper anywhere."

"Exactly."

He nodded. "When would be a good time for you to look over the mill?"

"The sooner the better," I said. "How about tomorrow?"

"I'll make the arrangements."

I sat back and looked around. "I like your home."

"Thank you," he said. "It once belonged to the old Baron, before he sold it to my grandfather. It goes back many years. Though perhaps not so many to one who lives among the elfs. Is that difficult?"

"One can get used to anything," I said. "Although, no slur on your, ah, your mill, sir, but the odor in your town is rather noticeable."

He smiled a little. "There is a reason we picked an estate that is ten miles from the mill."

I nodded. "Of course. I should do the same. Other than the odor, it is a pleasant town, though odd."

"Odd?"

"The Guild," I said.

"What of it?" He seemed a bit sharp.

"I didn't mean to give offense," I said. "Indeed, it had been my impression that the Guild had no standing with the county, and hence couldn't reflect on yourself in any way."

His cheek twitched a little; I'm not sure what that meant. "That is true," he said. "I am not offended. But what is unusual about it?"

"Hmmm? I've known of Guilds that had complete control of some local craftsmen, but never of a Guild of merchants, or one that had such complete control of a town."

He blinked. "I have control of the town," he said. He sounded like he meant it.

"Well," I said, "yes. No doubt. But still, the Guild—"

"Fugh," he said, or something like it, and courtesy required me to change the subject. Sometimes in my business you don't know if someone is lying or just plain crazy and you have to live with that.