Many of those who worked with or near Borteliff believed he was mute. In fact, he was capable of speech; it is merely that he had discovered many years before that, as a servant, the less he spoke, the more he was valued. He therefore developed the habit of saying little. Having adopted this laudable custom, he then found that the less he spoke, the better he was able to listen, and the better he listened, the more precisely he could carry out the tasks entrusted to him. This, quite naturally, increased his value to his employer still further; and thus, the less he spoke, the more he was valued, and the less he spoke; with the result that, at the time of this history, he’d scarcely uttered a word in a year.
In addition to his laconicity, the worthy Borteliff had many other virtues: he was precise, careful, had a remarkable head for details, and was disposed to obey orders at once and without question. The reader will not be astonished to learn that, with this list of qualifications, Khaavren not only depended on this servant, but considered him invaluable.
Borteliff, then, appeared at once upon hearing the bell, and presented himself before the captain with a slight bow, which he used to indicate that he was prepared to receive any instructions with which he might be honored.
Khaavren, unusual though this may be in a Tiassa, considered each word to be a precious commodity, and he thus hoarded them as the proprietor of a counting-house hoards his coins and notes. On this occasion, he doled out the following: “Attempt to learn the present and recent whereabouts of a bard named Saruchka, House of the Issola. Inform the Countess that I will sup at home. Any information arriving is to be forwarded to me there. Take this file and have copies made, and see that each member of the Tasks group has one. They are to be informed that the group will meet to-morrow at the tenth hour. That is all.”
Borteliff bowed to indicate that he understood, and turned and set about his errands.
With complete confidence in the Teckla, Khaavren gave no more thought to the tasks he had assigned this worthy; instead he simply returned home, where his sword and cloak were taken by Cyl, an elderly servant who had been with the Manor since before the Interregnum, and who, by this time, understood the complex relationships between Imperial service, county service, and family life better than did any of the others who lived there, particularly including the Countess and Lord Khaavren. Accordingly, as he relieved the captain of the aforementioned burdens, he said, “The Countess is on the Terrace.”
“Thank you, Cyl,” said Khaavren, and brought himself to one of the two terraces that had been built to provide a view of the ocean-sea; one of them was frequently used by the Countess to see to Imperial business on fine days; the other was referred to by all as the breakfast terrace, for the reason that it was most often used for outdoor repasts on fine mornings.
Khaavren found her at once, and she looked up from her work and greeted him with that smile that, as the captain had said more than once, would lighten up a dark room. “My lord,” she said, extending a hand, “you are home early. How delightful!”
He kissed her hand and took a chair beside her. “Yes, madam, to make up for what I fear will be a long day to-morrow, and perhaps more long days after.”
“Ah, is there excitement at the Palace?”
“Two old investigations have come together, and thus must be renewed. Apropos, you may know something of one of them.”
“Ah, indeed? You know I am eager to be of help in your work, as you are always helpful in mine. What does it concern that I may know something of?”
“It concerns Lord Feorae, a silver tiassa, and the matter of the false Jenoine invasion of some years ago—which invasion, as you know, was never thoroughly understood by Her Majesty.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Countess. “I may, indeed, have information on that matter.”
“Information that you never gave me before, madam?”
“Ah, my lord, do I hear a hint of reproach in your voice?”
“Merely curiosity, madam. It seems unlike you to withhold information that could be useful in my work.”
“The circumstances were unusual.”
“But you will explain them?”
“Certainly, and this very moment, if you wish.”
“I would be very pleased to hear this explanation.”
“Then I will tell you.”
“I am listening.”
“You know that the supposed invasion was merely a plot by the Jhereg.”
“Yes, madam, I am not unacquainted with this circumstance.”
“Do you know the object of this plot?”
“That was never revealed.”
“Yes, my lord. Because to reveal it would have led to unfortunate circumstances for the Empire.”
“How unfortunate?”
“Her Majesty would have been forced to take official notice, and this, in turn, would have required legal, and possibly violent, attacks on the Jhereg, and the Jhereg would, of course, have responded. Her Majesty thought it best, after having foiled their intentions and executed the perpetrator, to let the matter lie. Lord Feorae cooperated by not reporting the theft of his sculpture, and I filled out the forms to see he was, at least, reimbursed for it.”
“It was Her Majesty’s decision not to press the investigation further?”
“It was.”
“Very well. What was the plot intended to accomplish?”
“The assassination of a certain Lord Taltos.”
“Taltos! Count Szurke?”
“The same.”
“I had not been aware of how badly the Jhereg wants this Easterner.”
“Nor was I, my lord.”
“How was this plot to work?”
“The intention was to trick Her Majesty into locating this Easterner, at which time Jhereg assassins would kill him.”
“And how is Feorae involved?”
“By chance, he held the object that the Jhereg were using as a pretext to convince Her Majesty to locate Lord Taltos.”
“The silver tiassa.”
“Exactly.”
“What became of the object?”
“As to that, I do not know. It was stolen from Feorae, and evidence left pointing to Lord Taltos. But it is clear that the Easterner did not, in fact, steal it. And so it is unknown what in fact became of it.”
“I see.”
“It may also prove useful to know that Lord Taltos is married.”
“Ah, is he?”
“That is, he was. His estranged wife lives in South Adrilankha, and still cares sufficiently for him to take great risks in order to save him.”
“That is good to know.”
“My lord, I’m sorry that I didn’t inform you of this before. Her Majesty—”
“I understand completely, madam. I would have done the same, had Her Majesty made the request of me.” He kissed her hand again, and smiled.
“Thank you, my lord. What will you do now?”
“To begin, I will attempt to locate the silver tiassa. It is possible that whoever has it will prove to be the key to this matter.”
“I hope so indeed, my lord.”
“But first—”
“Yes? First?”
“First, madam, I plan to spend a relaxing evening with my adored wife.”
“Permit me to say, my lord, that I am in entire agreement with this plan.”
“If you wish, we can even venture out-of-doors. Might an evening of music be to your taste?”