Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Intrigue

“But who?”

“Or whom , one might say if one was being resolutely grammatical. That,” Shaa said, slurping the ice cube, “is usually the most interesting, not to mention salient, question.”

“Could it have been someone after the ring?”

“There are any number of things someone could have been after, starting with a little fun and building up from there, but I would say the ring should certainly be on that list. Of course, it’s most likely that the whole thing was nothing more than happenstance. “

“Is that what you believe?” Tildy said skeptically.

“What I believe would probably have no influence on the facts of the matter,” stated Shaa. “Paranoia is a survival trait, however. This ice is rather refreshing, by the way.”

“So you do think -”

Shaa opened his eyes wide and directed a guileless gaze in her direction. “I think nothing,” he said, “nothing but hypothetical thought experiments. Don’t concern yourself unduly; the trait runs in the family.”

Tildy closed her mouth and kept it shut. Without intending to, Shaa had reminded her of another trait that apparently ran in his family - stabbing each other in the back. Could his brother have been behind this attack, if an attack was what it really had been?

Which led her to another thought. Tildamire had never yet seen Shaa say anything without knowing exactly what message would be drawn out of his words; he was not shy about prizing his own ability with allusions. If he thought his brother was involved, wouldn’t he come right out and discuss it? Unless he didn’t trust her . Or unless he thought his brother might be listening …

“Another possibility,” Shaa added, “for your collection. This could have been a warning.”

“Against what?” Roni said.

“Any number of things, I’d imagine,” said Karlini.

“How do you suppose Groot is keeping at the moment?” remarked Shaa.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Karlini said. “We’ll be there in a few more days.”

“Perhaps it might be a better idea to find out how he is before we get there.”

“Wait a minute,” said Tildamire. “If there’s something going on with your friend Groot, where would a warning come from?”

Shaa grinned enigmatically. “There are many friends in the world beyond Haalsen Groot.”

“Idemand to know the meaning of this!” Haalsen Groot roared. On either side of him, a nattily liveried member of the Communal Police held one of his upper arms.

The sergeant in the doorway in front of him regarded Groot with a blank, officiously precise gaze. “ ‘Tain’t no meaning here to know at all,” he said. “The order is signed and sealed, as you yourself can see.” He did not, however, turn the large unrolled sheet of parchment so that Groot could view the writing upon it, if any, or so he could view the seals, if indeed those were present as well.

“I see nothing of the sort,” said Groot, dropping his volume but trying to increase the snap in his tone. He was having no trouble with the snap. Groot approved of keeping a set schedule and had put this ideal into practice for himself. These ruffians had arrived while he was reviewing correspondence in his study over his breakfast tea, still in his dressing gown. He had, however, performed his setting-up exercises upon arising, as was also his scheduled habit, had seen to the necessary ablutions, and had reviewed with his clerk Julio the calendar for the day. There had been no indication of an expected visit from any civic authorities anywhere in their itinerary. “I have seen no order, heard no charges, known no accuser. In case you have failed to be apprised, sergeant, Oolsmouth is a free city governed by the rule of law and the guiding hand of the Council; arbitrary seizure on an unspecified charge is clearly not our policy. Not - our - policy!” he repeated, with icy emphasis.

The sergeant, a singularly stolid fellow apparently chosen for this assignment on the basis of that very attribute, gazed at Groot. “This address is 25 Rockfish Lane. You have already answered to the name of Haalsen Thelomarias Groot, and have so identified yourself. I have further identified myself as a duly constituted officer of the Civil Council of Oolsmouth and have informed you that I possess a fully executed warrant for your arrest and imprisonment. In just accordance with the law and practice of Oolsmouth, you are therefore to consider yourself under arrest, and are directed to surrender your person into my custody without delay. Failure to do so may expose you to additional criminal charges as well as the corporal power of our rightful authority. Now, please come along, sir.”

Groot would have crossed his arms over his chest; it was the sort of posture that went with the defiant glower he was radiating. His arms, though, remained in the firm grasp of the other two troopers. He stuck out his chin instead. “I demand to know the charges against me; that is my right under the law.”

The sergeant didn’t even bother to shake his head; his expression remained placid. “I have my orders, which make no mention of the exercise of this right under the present circumstances.”

“No mention?” said Groot, his mustache waving. “What is that supposed to mean? Rights are rights.”

“My orders have suspended your ability to exercise this right in the present instance.”

“What? You can’t just -”

“The Council has spoken,” the sergeant stated.

“The Council has not spoken, damn your eyes! I’m on the Council. Don’t you think if the Council was going to speak, it would speak directly to me?”

“I’m certain I wouldn’t know, sir. Now, please come along.” The sergeant nodded to his troops. “Fetch him now, boys.”

“Now just a moment,” said Groot, digging in his slippered heels against the wood parquet floor of the entry hall. The policemen paid no attention to his attempt at friction and merely hoisted him into the air, then carried him toward the door. “At least let me put on a suit of proper clothes, unless these almighty orders of yours prohibit that, too.”

The sergeant raised his hand and Groot found himself lowered to the floor. Unrolling the parchment again, the sergeant scrutinized it, his lips moving in silence as he made his way through its official language. “The order does not expressly address the question of garb,” he said. “Thus the matter is left implicitly to my discretion. From the urgency with which the remainder of the order is phrased, and the dangerous individual you are deemed to be, sir -”

“ What ?” said Groot again. “I beg your -”

“- as I say, sir, a thoroughly dangerous individual, and one with whom I am cautioned to take every care lest you should gain the chance to escape, possibly causing injury, maiming, or death to myself or my subordinates in the prosecution of your desires; from this danger and the urgency of the orders my interpretation of this discretionary power would prohibit me from showing you any leniency, sir.” Again he nodded to the others. “Bring him along. You can bind him outside.”

They crossed the threshold more ignominiously than Groot could recall having done since he had been in occupation of this house, or at least since -

Groot’s house servant, who had weighed the unattractive option of impalement on a pike against the hazards of letting the troops in the door when they had originally pounded for entry, appeared around the corner ahead of them at a run. He was being followed at the heels by Julio, who had left the house by foot mere moments before the police had arrived. Julio began unreeling his own tirade while still skidding to a halt. “Julio,” said Groot, as the troopers lashed his hands together behind his back.