Chapter the Ninth
How the Viscount Met His New Lackey,
With Necessary Digressions During
Which Something Is Learned of the
Countess and Count of Whitecrest
Piro touched his sword, which, having been removed from the saddle, was hung from the sheath-belt over his shoulder. On consideration, however, he did not draw it, but approached the figure before him, whereupon this person turned and presented a respectful bow, as to a superior, which the Viscount found unusual, as they were as yet unable to see each other clearly. Piro continued forward, and finally stopped a few feet away, at which time he acknowledged the salute and said, “I give you good evening, visitor.”
The visitor repeated his bow, as deeply as the first time, and said, “I am not yet even a visitor, noble lord, yet I aspire to be more.”
“You aspire to be more than a visitor?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Well, let us see, then.” Piro was close enough so that, squinting in the small amount of light that filtered down from an open window above, he was able to see that the stranger, who was holding his hat in his hand, had no noble’s point. “Come, what are you doing here?” asked the viscount.
“My lord, I am waiting.”
“How, waiting?”
The Teckla bowed once more. “Yes, lord: waiting.”
“But, then, for what are you waiting?”
“I am waiting for the door to open.”
Piro was momentarily confused, uncertain whether he was being mocked. He said, “You are waiting for a servant to answer the door?”
The visitor respectfully bowed his agreement with this assessment.
“You perceive,” said Piro, “that there is no one to come to the door, as we have no doorman. It is unlikely that the Countess or Count would have heard you, and the other servants have, no doubt, retired for the evening.”
“Then that,” said the one who was not yet a visitor, “more than adequately explains why I have not been acknowledged or admitted.”
“Well,” said Piro, “but how long have you been waiting?”
“Four hours and a quarter,” said the Teckla.
“Four hours and a quarter?”
The visitor nodded solemnly.
“But then, how are you able to know the time to such a precise degree?”
“Ah, does Your Lordship wish me to explain?”
“Yes, that is it exactly: I wish you to explain.”
“I will then.”
“I am listening.”
“As I became aware that I might be standing here for a good length of time, it came to me that the time would pass better were I able to keep my mind occupied.”
“Well, I understand that, for standing in one place often leads to ennui. What, then, did you do?”
“Your Lordship may perceive that, it being dark, there was nothing to look at.”
“Yes, I understand that. And therefore, being unable to see?”
“Being unable to see, well, I listened.”
“Ah! And what did you hear?”
“I heard many things, my lord: the waves crashing upon the cliffs, the hollow clop of a shod horse along the stone streets, the rattle of carriage wheels. But among them was the peculiar chitter that I recognized as the hunting call of the ratbird.”
“Yes, I know that chitter.”
“And I, too, for I have spent a great deal of time in forest, wood, and jungle; and I know that the male ratbird, who always hunts with his mate, makes this call at regular intervals, each time receiving a response from his mate, who is also hunting, until one or the other has made a kill. Your Lordship may perceive that the important thing is the regularity of the call, which is astonishingly consistent for each pair on each night.”
“I am not unaware of this phenomenon,” said Piro. “And then?”
“I had a thought.”
“As you listened to the ratbird?”
“Yes, exactly. In fact, it was listening to the ratbird that inspired the thought.”
“Well, but what was this famous thought?”
“My lord, it is was this: If the ratbird demonstrates this behavior in forest, wood, and jungle, why, then, should it not demonstrate the same behavior when entering the city?”
“Why, that was more than a thought, it was very nearly an idea.”
“Was it not? And then, my lord, having nothing else to do, I counted the interval between calls, and discovered that, with this pair—ah, there it is again!—eight minutes and twenty-one seconds elapsed between calls. Now, as I am something of an arithmatist—”
“The Trey! Are you then?”
The Teckla bowed. “I was thus able, merely by keeping track of the number of times the ratbird made its call, to discover two things.”
“And what are these two things you have discovered? For you perceive you interest me enormously.”
“In the first place, that I have been waiting at this door for the amount of time that I have had the honor to inform Your Lordship.”
“That being four hours and a quarter.”
“Now, in fact, four hours and twenty-five minutes, or close to it.”
“I understand. And, the second thing you have discovered?”
“There are very few rats in the environs of Your Lordship’s keep.”
“Ah. I understand.”
“I am gratified that I have been able to answer Your Lordship’s question.”
“And I am gratified to learn that there are so few rats, although it does make me wonder why the ratbird should venture this far into the city.”
“Ah, my lord, with Easterners to the east, and Islanders to the West and South, and plagues and brigands all around us—”
“Well?”
“Well, the city and the jungle become closer each year.”
“That is true, I think. Yet there remains the issue of what I am to do, for I am loath to leave you standing here for another four hours and a half, or more.”
“That is as Your Lordship wishes.”
“Well, since there is no one else to speak to you, I shall do so myself.”
“That is very kind of Your Lordship,” said the Teckla, and he put himself into an attitude of waiting.
“Why have you come to the door?”
“I have come for a position, my lord.”
“How, a position? What sort of position?”
“Doorman and lackey.”
“Ah, ah! You heard, then, that such a position was open?”
“Exactly. I heard that such a position was open, and I have not only heard it, but—”
“Well?”
“I think I have very nearly proved it.”
“Indeed, I think you have. How did you come to hear about this position?”
“Gossip, my lord, from local gossips, which is often the best if not the only way to learn anything.”
“And what exactly did you hear? For, you perceive, I was raised to believe in precision in all things.”
“If I may say so, my lord, that is only just, and so I will tell you what I heard.”
“That is what I wish to know.”
“It was just this: The Countess and Count of Whitecrest require a doorman and lackey. This doorman and lackey, so I was told, must be of good character and have letters of reference.”
“And you have such letters?”
“Indeed, my lord.” The prospective servant touched his breast to indicate that he carried them within his blouse.
“Well, follow me, then.”
Piro led the way into the house, through the buttery, larder, and kitchen, and so into the gentle confines, where he lit a few more tapers, then sat and held out his hand. The Teckla removed a neatly tied scroll of papers from his bosom, slipped it from an oilskin envelope, and presented the scroll to the Viscount, who untied it, unrolled it, and glanced through the various letters and documents contained therein. After a moment he said, “Your name is Lar?”
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“Yes, my lord. My name is Lar, and Lar means me.”
Piro rolled up the documents and tied them once more. “Well, Goodman Lar, it is late, and I am not the one to whom you must speak. I have looked at these recommendations, and they appear to be entirely regular, so that I will permit you to spend the night within these walls. You may find a corner of the kitchen, and then in the morning you may speak with the Count.”
“Thank you for your kindness, my lord,” said the Teckla, accepting his scroll. Meanwhile Piro, whose eyes had quite adjusted to the light, took a good look at the Teckla. He was rather shorter than the Viscount, but sturdy-looking, as if he had spent some time in physical labor, he had the round face of his House, and, moreover, a face with no expression on it, yet Piro, who even at his tender age had some skill as a physiognomist, thought he detected a certain intelligence in the set of Lar’s eyebrows and the lines of his forehead.
Piro cleared his throat and said, “Two words.”
Lar stopped in mid-bow and looked up, presenting a slightly comical aspect. “My lord?”
“When you speak to the Count—”
“Yes? When I speak to the Count?”
“You may wish to be, well, laconic.”
Lar straightened up slowly, frowning a frown of bewilderment.
“There is something about you,” continued Piro, “that inspires my sympathy, and I wish to help you.”
“I am grateful,” said the Teckla. “And yet—”
“Your comportment,” explained Piro. “My father the Count is, well, he is not a cheerful man, and I am afraid that he will not wish to be attended by a cheerful servant. And my mother, well, as she manages the affairs of County Whitecrest, she leaves the estate and the domestic matters to my father.”
“How, not cheerful?”
“Exactly.”
“And yet, he is a Tiassa.”
“Well, I know it is strange.”
“My lord, it is—unusual.”
“You perceive, there are reasons.”
“Oh, as to that.”
“Yes?”
“Well, my lord, is it not the case that there are reasons for everything?”
“You think so?”
“So I have been told, my lord.”
“Then you are educated.”
“I know my symbols, and I know my numbers, and I know that there is a cause for every effect.”
“Then you wish to know the cause for this?”
“If Your Lordship would care to tell me, well, I would listen.”
“This is it then. You know about Adron’s Disaster.”
“Trout! I nearly think so! I was a young man when it happened, and a thousand miles away, and yet I remember feeling the ground shake beneath my feet, and I was nearly brained by a large pitcher falling from a shelf.”
“Well, then, my father was a friend of Adron.”
“How, Adron himself?”
“Exactly.”
“Ah! I had not known of this circumstance.”
“There is more.”
“How, more?”
“He was a servant to His Majesty, the Emperor.”
“A servant?”
“And more than servant.”
“More than a servant?”
“He was—”
“Yes?”
“Captain of the Phoenix Guards.”
“He!”
“Exactly.”
“And yet, His Majesty was assassinated.”
“Precisely.”
“Well, much is explained then. And yet—”
“Well?”
“Has he been brooding on this subject for two and a half hundred years?”
Piro made a gesture with his hands. “It has grown worse, so I am told, these last hundred years or so. But nevertheless …”
“Well, that clarifies matter, my lord. Only—”
“Yes?”
“The position, as I have been informed, is not that of servant for the Count.”
“How, it is not?”
“Not the least in the world.”
“Well, but then, what is it, my good Lar?”
“It is lackey to his son.”
“His son?”
“Exactly.”
“But I am his son.”
“So it would seem, my lord.”
Piro looked at him again. “You are, then, to be my lackey?”
“That, at any rate, is the post for which I have the honor to apply.”
“And yet, good Lar, I give you my word that I had no idea any such position was requested.”
“It is only very recent, my lord. That is, within the last few days. And then again—”
“Yes? Then again?”
“It is also possible that I have been misinformed.”
“What use have I for a lackey?”
“Oh, as to that, my lord—”
“Well?”
“I assure you, I have not the least idea in the world, although I am convinced, my lord, that the Count your father must have a reason.”
“Oh, I am certain that he does, and, moreover, I am equally certain that, in time, I will learn what it is. But, in the meanwhile, as it concerns me—”
“Yes?”
“I will look again at your letters of recommendation.”
Lar bowed and passed them over. Piro this time studied them more carefully than he had at first. “You have traveled extensively,” he remarked after some few minutes.
“Well, that is true.”
“What has taken you on these journeys?”
“Is Your Lordship aware of the expression ‘to follow one’s nose,’ meaning to travel according to mood, and to instinct, thither and yon, with no plan, hoping to find one’s fortune?”
“I have heard this, yes. And?”
“My lord, I have followed my stomach.”
“Ah. I understand. Well, at any rate, you have no fear of travel.”
“None. You expect to be traveling?”
“I have no expectations. But the fact that my father the Count wishes for me to have a lackey may indicate something of his plans for my future. Then, again, it may not. I see you cooked for a band of mercenaries.”
“Highwaymen might be a more accurate term, my lord, or road agents as they are sometimes called.”
“I see. Well, then you have no fear of a skirmish or two.”
“Oh, as to that, there have been times when the very air was thick with the sounds of battle, and steel flashed, and bodies fell, and blood flowed freely, and yet I stayed at my post cooking venison with wayberries as if it were nothing at all; I assure Your Lordship that, with regard to my duties, I am utterly without fear.”
“Well, that is good,” said Piro.
“Then there is to be an expedition of some sort, my lord?”
Piro shrugged. “I have no such plans, but, whatever the Count’s plans for me may be, I have no intention of staying here for-ever.”
“Ah! My lord is ambitious?”
“Nearly.”
“So much the better.”
“oh?”
“A young man without ambition is an old man waiting to be.”
“Ah. I perceive you are a philosopher.”
“My lord? Not the least in the world.”
“You say you are not?”
“My lord, I must nearly insist on it.”
“Very well, if you will have it so. But tell me, how did you come to the line of work you occupied—that is, cooking for a band of highwaymen?”
“I will tell you, my lord, if you wish it.”
“Wish it? I nearly think I have asked.”
“This is the answer, then: In my youth, I was granted use of a small parcel of land from the estate of Baron Halfwing, which estate, my lord, was situated in the lowlands some eighty leagues west of the city and along the coast.”
“Well?”
“That is, my lord, it was quite along the coast, so that I could dip my feet in the o
cean without leaving the land I had been allocated.”
“Ah! Yes, it is clear to me now. With the fall of the Empire …”
“Exactly. It soon came to pass that I had no land, but, rather, a small parcel of ocean. And being thus tied to no place—the Baron, you perceive, having no inclination to insist that I remain in the water, nor being in a position to insist on anything—I found myself free. I have neither the patience nor the inclination to fish, my lord, and so I took the opportunity to set out onto the road to make my fortune.”
“Well, and have you made your fortune?”
“I have my life, which, as Your Lordship may agree, is a fortune to a man such as I.”
“And have you family to support, as well?”
“A younger brother, but he is getting along well enough on his own.”
“Ah. And what is he doing?”
“He? Oh, he is doing as I did—that is, cooking for a band of highwaymen.”
“I see. It is as well you know some of these, for it may prove helpful should some of them set on us if we travel.”
“Indeed, it may save Your Lordship’s life.”
“Or the lives of the highwaymen.”
“Trout! That is true! But then, a life is a life, and if some are of more importance to us than others, it does not make these others worthless.”
“It is, no doubt, living near the sea that has made you a philosopher.”
Lar spread his hands, as if to say that if Piro wished to insist that the prospective servant was a philosopher, said servant would not dispute the issue, but instead, although disagreeing, would remain, if we may, philosophical about the difference of opinion.
The reader may, perhaps, be confused about the apparent liberty in conversation between Teckla and nobleman; if so, we can only give our assurance that, by all accounts, this was one result of the fall of the Empire—the courtesy and respect due one’s social superior seemed to fall apart even as did the ties of land, fortune, and honor that they supported, so that, in some places, one might listen to an hour’s conversation between two persons unaware that one was a nobleman and the other a servant. To be sure, this did not happen at all times and in all places, and one can also find occasions, especially in the duchies far from any large city, where such distinctions increased, as if the desire for tokens and symbols of respect could replace the actuality. We will not waste the reader’s valuable time by attempting to account for this peculiar alteration in social custom, but will instead leave it up to the reader to decide how much consideration the phenomenon merits; having both represented and pointed it out, we consider our duty fulfilled and our goal achieved.