Hmm. Secrets.
Straight away I've encountered a bit of a problem, something that didn't occur to me when I set out to write this, and I find myself needing to sort it out before going further.
We all have our secrets, knowledge that we do not want others to become privy to. Doubtless some things that I wish to keep secret will make their way into this book, and become someone else's secret upon reading once I've died and this volume is handed down to ... whoever it is that eventually gets their hands on it. It's a rather disturbing thought, really, putting secrets and knowledge into a book without knowing where that information will end up.
I have, to some degree, accepted this as an inevitable consequence of anecdotal journal keeping. If someone learns my secrets after I die, I shall not really care. I'll be dead, after all.
Someone else's secrets, though? Shared secrets, held in strictest confidence? My right to share those could certainly be debated.
I find that I must share this one, despite my misgivings. The alternative is to cease writing this story, which I’m actually quite enjoying all of a sudden.
So ... there I was in the basement of my own keep, staring at the very Lord who had confronted me in the streets just moments ago. Looming large and dangerous, he regarded me from across the room, waiting for me to respond.
“Joking, Theo? About what, exactly?” I furrowed my brow at him in a puzzled manner, and then gestured behind me. “Wine?”
“Please,” he nodded, stepping lightly across the stone and wood floor nearly as swiftly as he had crossed the street, but much more calmly.
I retrieved a bottle of Truvian red and two glasses from the small table that was recessed into the wall beside the door, extracting the cork from the bottle's neck and pouring two half-full glasses of the room-temperature liquid. Upon finishing, I re-corked the bottle and placed it back upon the table, holding one of the glasses out to my visitor.
“So - joking?”
“I beat you down here; back to my own keep and down through the tunnels faster than you could walk straight here. I told you I would, last week, and you said that I was crazy.” He grinned, rubbing his chin. “I swear, I should have put money on it.”
“Oh, had there been money involved, I can guarantee there would have been a different outcome,” I smiled. “You might have found the hidden door a little more difficult to open. Good work, though. Are you still running?”
He nodded. “Lost nearly a full eight pounds, too. I still have my doubts about my ability to 'cat burgle' as you call it, but I'll give it an honest shot. Any resulting failure will not be because of my shortcomings, I guarantee you that much.”
“Trust me, my friend,” I said, “you’ll see. I don't maintain this toothpick-like build for the sake of fashion, you know.”
“One thing I've always wondered is how you're able to maintain that weight while employing one of the greatest cooks in all of Harael.”
“Bah, I can't be telling you all my secrets, can I? Oh, and by the way ... one of your boys must have dropped this,” I tossed the dagger towards him gently.
He snatched it out of the air with practiced ease, inspecting it briefly before rolling his eyes.
“Show-off. I was watching, too. When did you manage to grab it?”
“About the same time that adorable little child with the sword pretended to accidently plow into you so he could steal this,” I said, tossing Theo's purse of coins back to him as casually as I had the dagger. “I managed to nick it from the rascal as he was bolting away.”
Theo muttered several dark curses under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he caught his money pouch and tucked it away. I chuckled.
“So, our encounter in the streets ... you mentioned my scars, you insensitive brute!” I said, jokingly. “You've caught wind of something that requires my attention, I take it?”
“As to that,” he said, frowning in a manner I recognized, “do we really need to use your plague scars as part of our 'secret code'? I feel like a complete horse's ass every time the words come out of my mouth. It's not something I'd ever intentionally comment on in public, Vince. Not to you, not to anyone.”
“Indeed, I know. But we must appear to truly hate each other for the subterfuge to work. It’s even more credible when the statements are so out of character for you.”
“Yes, I can understand that, but-”
“Theo, we are almost brothers. Acting like we hate each other will obviously have moments of awkwardness. Do you think that it's any easier for me to speak disparagingly about your mother - the woman who took me in to your family’s house as if I were her own?” I said, gently. “We both know the truth, and that's what matters ... not these terrible things we say.”
“I suppose. Speaking of terrible ... are my pants truly as awful as you said?”
In truth, they fascinated me to no end, as I’d never been simultaneously blinded and horrified before.
“Well, Theo ... we've known each other fourteen years, and I'm not going to lie to you.”
I took a sip of my wine, watching as he waited expectantly for me to continue.
“Yes? And?”
I pressed my lips into a smile, saying nothing. Soon he was grinning back at me.
“Ass,” he chuckled. “Still, I know more than most about what you went through, and I do hate having to say those things.”
It was exactly the sort of thing I'd come to expect from Theodore, given how well I understood my closest friend. We'd come up with this scenario as boys, planning for the day we would become Lords. He’d been due to inherit from his father's estate almost the same day as I, beating me to the age of twenty-three by a mere week and a half.
The trick of the thing was this: I had proposed a public falling out between us some six months prior to our respective ceremonies, pretending that some horrid, bitter feud had suddenly erupted. In this manner, we could maintain our friendship in secret while appearing to hate each other.
It had several benefits, I reasoned. First, it gave others the impression that we were constantly on guard against each other. They would assume we were highly defended against theft, causing them to think twice about paying either of us an unannounced visit.
Second, if we made our hostility towards each other well known enough, it might loosen the lips of Lords plotting against one of us, allowing the other to become privy to helpful political information.
The third benefit is subtler, one I’ve never mentioned aloud. I’m well aware of my reputation as an extremely talented thief, a master manipulator of circumstances, a Lord to be regarded with caution and fear. Since Theo and I appear at odds with one another, and since I haven't yet rolled over him the way a millstone obliterates a bushel of grain, people suspect that he must be my equal when it comes to subtlety and political maneuvering. It causes them to regard him with more caution than they might otherwise, which gives him a bit of a reputation, makes him a little safer.
It’s my way of helping Theo without him knowing.
Even though we're almost the same age, he and I are so utterly unalike physically that it becomes comical to think of the two of us standing toe to toe in the streets during one of our fictitious scuffles, his stocky six-foot-one frame towering over my slight five-foot-nine one.
Despite his gruff appearance, he’s one of the most sensitive souls I’ve ever known. Enough so that he couldn’t even remark upon my disfigurement in jest without feeling like a louse.
“A point,” I conceded. “We’ll have to revisit the code one of these days, neh? Come up with some other signal that we need to talk. So, what have you heard? I'm assuming it's important.”
He walked with his goblet over to a nearby leather chair and sat down heavily. I followed him after retrieving the wine bottle from the bar, setting it down and taking my usual seat.
“You,” he said, pausing for another small sip from his cup, “have made someone upset.”
Seconds passed in silence.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically.
He nodded gravely.
“Uh, would it be impolite to mention that I've heard soothsayers give advice that was less vague?”
He chuckled. “Shall I elaborate then?”
“Please do.”
Theodore gave a grand and expressive sigh as he sat back on the couch, looking up as if attempting to remember something. There were times, like now, when it was obvious that my friend took a great deal of pleasure in knowing something that I had yet to learn.
“Yesterday evening I received a letter requesting that I make myself available the second hour after dusk, in order that I might engage in conversation. Once there, I met a rather theatrical fellow in a mask who...” he paused artfully and ensured he had my full attention, “tactfully suggested that it would be most helpful if I were to avoid, for the next three days, anything that might cause you concern or otherwise lead you to boost the defenses inside your keep.”
“Oh ho!” This was, indeed, interesting.
“Exactly. So, being the master of subtle diplomacy that I am,” he said, voice becoming ironic, “I bluntly told him that he was crazy, and warned that if he presumed to declare formal war against you before I had a chance to, he’d have to climb over my lifeless corpse. I think I may have threatened to cut out his liver at some point.”
“Subtle.”
“Yeah, I thought it was quite tactful and clever myself,” he said cheerily.
Hmm. Theo's news and the gentle, testing prods into my territory seemed to suggest the same thing - a territory war. My stomach went a little icy to consider it. The two minor territory skirmishes I'd been involved in so far had both played out favorably for me, but I had instigated both of those myself, and chosen times when it was advantageous to do so.
I’d lost a lot of sleep during those months, though. I groaned inwardly.
There was something in his half-smile that told me Theo wasn't quite done yet. He still knew something that I didn't.
“It isn't the start of a war though, is it?” I ventured, voicing the question as a statement.
“No, it's not, and he took great pains to ensure that I knew it. They want to steal from you, I'm guessing. Apparently, the Lord who wants me to kick my feet up by the fire for a few days does not actually border your territory, and thus is quite incapable of starting a legal war. In fact, I was encouraged by this fellow to begin thinking about my own territory war against you, considering the opportunity that might be coming up.”
I nodded. “So – a masked stranger working for an unidentified Lord told you to rest assured that he was not planning on starting a war with your neighbor? I can see how you'd be inclined to trust him...”
“Come on, Vince! They must be far away from you if they need to engage your neighbors. If one of the other Lords on your border wanted to start a formal war, they surely wouldn't come to me for permission, or do something silly like warn me first. They'd simply do it. This has all of the markings of something smaller, I would think.”
I had a sudden thought, and felt a stab of concern.
“Theo, what if the target is actually you? What if the whole point of this is not to keep my schedule exactly the same, but to change your schedule instead?”
He sat still, momentarily taken aback, and then appeared to consider. After a few moments, he smiled and shook his head, turning back to me with a grin.
“Nope!” he said. “There are three reasons why I don't believe I'm the target.”
“And they are?”
“First, I was invited to attend a banquet this Son's Day, the sole purpose of which is to bear witness to your abject humiliation.”
“Somewhat irrelevant, since the victim of token embarrassing thefts is always invited to such gatherings.”
“Right. Errr ... okay, then, there are two reasons. Although,” he considered thoughtfully, “the fellow I was speaking to seemed quite excited at the prospect of embarrassing you, so I think my first is still valid. Anyway, next, we talked about a staging area – they wanted me to stamp a permit they could bring to some of the shops facing your territory, nearest your keep.”
“You didn't give them a permit, did you?”
“Hmm, let's see. Did I give a permit bearing my personal seal to a man who wore a mask and failed to identify the Lord he was working for?” Theodore snorted, draining the remainder of his goblet and holding it out for me to fill. “I'm not a complete moron, you know.”
“I never thought it for a moment, my friend,” I said, quietly relieved. I focused on pouring another half-glass of wine into his cup.
“I told him that he could bloody well tell me which buildings he wanted to use, at which point I would take it up with the tenant personally. I figured that was more in character for me anyways, plus I could find out where, roughly when, stuff like that. They already said the time will be the day after tomorrow, from sunset until two hours past midnight, and they’re supposed to tell me once they've scoped out the place.”
“You got the time from them, to within a few hours? This is unbelievable! Are they complete amateurs?”
“Could be, could be ... although I'd like to think that my insightful prying and astounding interrogation techniques may have played a role in recovering this information. Still, Vince, you and I both know that amateurs can be just as dangerous, especially since they don’t know the rules they’re supposed to play by.”
“Agreed. Well, I suppose you've got a point – it does look like I'm the target of this presumed robbery. Fie...” I muttered, cursing under my breath. “At least I have some idea when they'll be attempting it, so I can try to be prepared and catch them in the act. If they're as amateurish as they sound, it may not be too terribly difficult to do, but still ... not the best news I’ve heard. My whole week is ruined. And I was just beginning to catch up on my sleep.”
I glanced at Theodore. He was wearing that smug look again.
“There's more?” I asked, incredulous.
He nodded, seeming very satisfied with himself. “Saved the best for last, I did. Wanted to hear you whine about losing sleep before sharing it. Third reason I don't think it's me. Or, uh, second. Whatever. Anyways, I managed to discover what they might be up to, and I don't think they meant to let me know, exactly.”
“Oh?” I said, waiting for him to continue. Theo appeared to be enjoying this immensely.
“Well, yes. I was going on and on about how difficult this was going to make my life, ranting about how you'd probably increase security afterwards making it harder to spy on you, saying he'd better not be after certain things you already knew I wanted to steal from you because you’d blame me for it, and-” He took a deep breath and let it all out at once. “Well, you get the idea. Eventually, perhaps just to shut me up, he told me the thing they were after didn't actually belong to you. And they implied I could forget my concerns about your security because you were likely to find yourself extremely busy with other things soon.”
“What they're after doesn't belong to me?”
“That's what he said. I realize that's not the greatest clue regarding what they are after, but I figure if we look at all of the things you've stolen in the past little while, or ... hey, could he have been talking about one of your books? I didn’t think so at first, but then I started- ”
“I think I know exactly what they're after,” I said.
“You ... oh. Okay.” Theo leaned back into the couch. “Care to shed some light on the matter for those of us in the cheap seats?”
I put my glass of wine down, stood up from my comfortable chair and gestured for him to do likewise. Groaning slightly, he stood and followed me over to the nearest corner of the exercise studio, which had a tiny half-room recessed into it.
Smelling heavily of oils and other fragrances, it contained a simple easel, two large tables covered with paints and wooden stretchers, and a chair. Beside the easel was a plinth elegantly draped in cloth, and atop the cloth sat a metal goblet, a wine bottle, and a large bowl containing various fruits as well as a pear in the latter stages of decay. On the easel was an unfinished painting that clearly represented the objects at some point in the past, back when things had been going far, far better for the pear.
“Nice,” Theo said upon viewing the painting. “Is it new?”
“Well, 'new' in the sense that it's my most recent work, but not 'new' in the whole sense that it's been sitting here for, well...” I shrugged and gestured at the pear.
“I see. It's good, though. I'm liking it so far.”
“As am I. Or I was.” I pointed directly at the goblet. “Know what that is?”
“A still life model? A wine glass? Some opportunity for you to dramatically bring up the point you're about to make?”
“It is,” I said, grinning at his wit despite myself, “one of two wine glasses that once belonged to Prince Galli Copperfen over two hundred years ago.”
Theodore let out an appreciative whistle. “Wow. Hey, you mean those are-”
“Yes,” I said, “the famous 'poisoned goblets' from the story. I'd been dying to paint something with historical significance, and I figured the Copperfen goblets would satisfy that craving nicely. I have this one cup on loan for a time, a small miracle that required over a year of practically begging Lord Greybridge.”
“Oh. Geeze,” Theo said, putting the pieces together.
A Lord's reputation plays a very large part in his politics and everyday dealings. Half of running territory well is knowing what you're doing and what's going on around you. The other half is looking like you know what you're doing, giving others the impression that you are in complete control and everything is going smoothly.
There is no better way to point out the shortcomings in another Lord’s ability to govern than to steal from him, or otherwise cause them to become embarrassed. It's expected, encouraged even. The whole point is to demonstrate your ability to control your environment, to come up with an elegant plan and execute it without flaw, utilizing all of your talents and skills as a schemer, a manager of people, and a thief.
And there’s no better way to tarnish your own hard-earned reputation than failing to prevent an embarrassing theft from occurring to you. If, for example, a Lord were to borrow a prized artifact from another Lord with the understanding that nothing would happen to it, and something did in fact happen to that artifact ... well, ouch.
Lord Terrian Greybridge was one of the most powerful and dangerous people I'd ever met, with territory stretching for miles and resources dwarfing my own. If one of his most highly prized possessions went missing from my keep, he might reduce me to nothing, tear me apart.
There were also the financial implications. A city's Prince is responsible for managing who owns what, formalizing the expansion of territory or the re-drawing of territorial lines, overseeing territorial wars and other agreements for property exchange between Lords. The Prince expanded territory for those competent enough to handle more, and carved pieces away from those lacking the ability to govern. The lines are re-drawn yearly, at a ceremony that all Lords are required to attend.
The timing couldn’t be a coincidence. Prince Tenarreau would be announcing his newest decisions at this year’s ceremony, which was barely one week away. I quickly calculated the potential damage to my own reputation if such a theft were to be successful.
Double-ouch.
Someone wanted to improve their position in life and at court, and for some reason they wanted to do so at the expense of mine. Some Lord wished to inconvenience me, and was planning something that would disrupt my life a great deal.
My untimely, violent death at the hands of Lord Greybridge, for instance, would almost certainly ruin all of my plans.
“Theodore, my friend,” I said, “I'm beginning to suspect that I've made someone upset.”