Chương 249: Chapter 270: My Bandits

Rabert was waiting outside the drawing room when I came poking my head out. He raised an eyebrow, curious about what had happened.

"Deviled egg?" he said, offering the plate that I had asked him to put together for me.

"Thanks," I said, looking over my shoulder. Septimus was sitting down and behaving again. It had taken me a good few minutes to explain my plan and convince the marquis not to storm the Academy and start ripping buildings up by the foundation until he could find and kill Meadwhite.

Mostly, I had appealed to his habitual, reflexive urge for secrecy- you won't do a great job hiding your family's links to necromancy if you muster your troops to go kill a lich and the only evidence we can show an inquest for why we knew a lich was there, would only be decipherable to someone who has knowledge of necromancy. A lot of knowledge of necromancy. I know more about the subject than is good for me, but I don't know why the golden pelt being in Hearstcliff was so very significant.

Septimus was ready to go to war immediately, damn the torpedoes, kill all the witnesses, and salt the ground. He was gonna go hard. But I reminded him of the secrecy, the covert methods. And that this has been ongoing for over a year now, so waiting a few days and moving quietly won't hurt. He did not want to hear that, but he did ultimately agree. I kinda think I might have saved a bunch of lives tonight.

I saw some XP rewards come in while I was chatting with Septimus, but I did not take my eye off him to read them carefully. Rabert and I stepped away from the Ebonder retainers who were guarding the entrance to the sitting room. They had done an admirable job of keeping anyone from coming in, while we left the doors open to make sure there would be no impugning of anyone's reputations.

He's a very happily married man, and I'm a politically ambitious young woman, we both have a lot to lose if stupid rumors get started. We move into the circulation of the party, moving slowly along while I pluck at some rather hearty and filling finger-foods. Drailim likes a savory birthday party, it seems.

"So, it looked like a rather tense conference," Rabert observed.

"An issue of mutual concern, and some finicky details to iron out," I said.

"And just when I thought all was sorted, he demands we move immediately, actually immediat ely, where I counseled patience and moderation. His lordship has a very strong personality."

"Does he?" Rabert said, smiling to an acquaintance as we passed.

"I had not noticed. He's always scared me shitless." I guffawed a terribly inappropriate laugh that echoed from off the ceiling and had dozens of people turning to stare at me. I hid my mouth behind my hand until most of the disapproving eyes had turned away.

"You can't do that to me, Rabert! You're the reserved one, you're not funny!" I protested. My eyes swiveled around, to see if any more Defenders of Decorum were staring at me with prim disapproval.

"I can be funny," he said with stately dignity.

"I just pick my time, that's all." Great. I get that my humor is of the dry and offbeat variety, but if Rabert is going to be dryer than me, with a more pat straight-man delivery, I'm going to be in trouble.

"Steer a little bit to the right here, I want to flaunt in front of these Aumerje pikers," I murmured to my escort.

"Certainly," he said, and caught the eye of a chum of his and stopped for a word about the new editor of the Hearster Gazette and the decline of its writing quality now that they've pushed to three printings a day. Him stopping to chat with that acquaintance while he held my arm as escort left me standing rather outside their circle, where the middle ranks of Aumerje had plenty of time to seethe about the barely-veiled insults that comprised my look for the evening. Also, I did flip them off.

We moved about a bit, and occasionally I got glimpses of Nathan chatting with one or another of the guests. It made me wish I had my coin spinning, Grennick had given me surprisingly solid advice. My resources were better used when I hold still and let people come to me. But Rabert and I were drifting towards the Harigold cluster, moving at our own pace. Behind us, the Marquis of Tumnassed came storming out of the sitting room and plunged into his family.

The Ebonders folded in around him and then started boiling, he gave orders and they rearranged themselves quickly. Over a dozen of them left almost immediately, headed for exits.

"Nice of him to wait for you to get clear before he made a scene," Rabert commented dryly.

"It really is," I said, still half-in my thoughts. If Septimus had been fast on my heels like this, I would have likely panicked. As it is he's given me enough space that I don't feel threatened. Also, he's given me enough space that I can't sense what's going on in that knot of Ebonders, I think he mostly waited for me to get clear so he could still keep what secrets he had. He seems to have come to the conclusion that I can be trusted with the information I have, which is good.

Larianne and I broke this news to him as gently as we could, and he seems to have adjusted enough that he's not going to necromance me into bones and dust. But still not eager to bring me in any more than that.

"You seem actually afraid of him," Rabert observed, tugging my arm a little closer.

"See what I see," I told him.

"You'd be terrified too." We parked ourselves on the outskirts of the Harigold Zone and chitchatted idly with both the outermost orbits of my own family, and also whichever party guests were currently drifting by on the currents. I snacked on some bacon-wrapped shrimp from the caterer's table, plucking them off the toothpick with my teeth, expertly leaving lipstick intact. It'll start to fade and bleach out in a few more hours, but for now I want to look like Zyco left me.

Rabert held up half the conversations with me, he was good at the flow of small talk. He had a tendency to probe for a little too much information, but when he got caught out at it people seemed to treat it more like a bit of fencing rather than nosily interrogating them. Half the Ebonder household had left the party by now, and nobody was looking my way. If I played my cards right with Septimus, they could become one of my very most stalwart allies here.

I'm at ground-zero for an event that is clearly very important to him, and needs to be handled in a very specific way. He clearly pays sharp attention to debts that are incurred fairly, and he appreciates people that can be trusted. There's a good chance that this pushes us from "for form's sake and politics I am making a display of support for your coalition" to actually supporting me as a friend and comrade-in-arms. And if I play my cards wrong he's probably going to have ghosts tear me to shreds.

Nah, he'd make it look like an accident. He's not just a necromancer, he's also head of a very entrenched organized crime family. Whenever Aumerje or Freckentop dignitaries enter my range I start fucking with them subtly. Blunting the edges of any concealed weapons. Adding a subtle shade of tarnish on silver jewelry. Weakening threads so that an hour of normal movement leaves their clothes looking shabby. Well, except for the ones that are wearing anti-sorcery wards.

I think those are about to become a lot more fashionable among the Freckentop house. Fortunately, most of them keep their radius small, comprehensive ward protections are expensive enough for just a small region. Only the royals can sling around far-reaching bubbles of complete shutdown that moves about with them. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

If I can't use sorcery to fuck with them, I can at least take some pleasure in that they had to pay good money for that immunity. Before I came along, sorcery was so looked-down-on that nobody even bothered to ward against it. The price of success, I suppose. In coming months and years I can expect to see a lot more of that. And in between fretting, flirting, sabotage, introspection and plotting, I found some time to enjoy the party.

A ranking Brunbling representative stopped by to thank me for my tip about Pichael Shaker and the Nadhi riverboats, apparently that had been exactly the connection that they all needed to make a very profitable partnership.

"And that's fantastic to hear," I said brightly, still holding a half a cracker topped with a hard cheese.

"Listen, in a few months I'd ask that you come to me about expanding distribution, I may have a much bigger tip to share if you're still looking for westward routes." I had pitched my voice up just a bit to be heard a little further than usual. So the duke of Skyback, Drailim the birthday boy, heard it all as he approached.

"Ah, and that's my cue I think," he said.

"Princess Natalie, I trust my surveyor did not bore you too much with talk of geology?" I turned towards him with a bright smile, not pretending at all that I had not known he was there. I cannot usually tell one person from another using my sorcerous senses, it's like trying to identify faces from an inverted gelatin mold. But Drailim is one of the exceptions because he's the only person I've seen in Hearstwhile who is more muscle-bound than Licard. He moves carefully, but also a bit stooped.

Like all that strength is pulling him down, heavy with too much muscle. He moves surprisingly lightly, he walks like a man with bad knees and it keeps his gait soft. He's probably used to accidentally, or "accidentally", sneaking up on people. And yet I could pick him out of a crowd with my eyes shut.

"Not at all, there were actually some valuable insights," I said.

"I had looked at surface topology but she corrected me on some important points about subsidence, thank you. I would not have thought to consult her but you were quite prescient to send her my way." Rabert stifled a chuckle. I shot a glance sidelong.

"I did not mean to disparage, but there is a certain incongruity when you move from your very social voice into your valedictorian voice." Translated: it's funny when you start talking nerd shit at parties. Duke Drailim motioned with an arm as if to clap Rabert on the shoulder, but it was an empty threat.

"She's Harigold, after all. Nhullit House teaches their whelps to discuss business arrangements in salon language, but in Meadowtam the politesse is never more than skin-deep." He turned to me with a ponderous bow.

"And this, we have in common. Half my best geologists come from Meadowtam. I think a fifth cousin of yours is currently plotting a transverse shaft for a coal mine on my lands." I've only ever shared a few words with the man, but found myself warming to him immediately. He spoke politely but precisely.

There's a bad habit in Hearstcliff's social circles to never speak too exactly about business matters, as if knowing too much about your family's businesses would make you look like merchant class instead of aristocracy. I have to talk about distribution and opportunities and production instead of saying "I can hold an account for you when we get the rail lines open".

Instead, I've got this man who didn't send a negotiator to work out an advantageous business deal, he sent someone who knows the terrain, and material costs, and the labor conditions, and the weather patterns. He sent someone who could build the best plan into a business contract between us. Night and day from working with Quoissi Eyellon.

"Now, your surveyor and I did get most of the particulars, but there's plenty of wiggle room in certain areas," I said, keeping my tone respectful.

"Mostly in the areas I'm most involved in. Iron and manpower are both rather inflexible, but I've asked her to flag the parts for my own contributions, that's where I'm willing to make sacrifices to keep this project on schedule." Rabert did not visibly wince. But he did in visibly wince. It was subtle. I didn't miss it. Drailim Skyback didn't miss it.

"An interesting way you put that. Making sacrifices to keep the project on schedule, indeed."

"Yes your Grace."

"I understand that most of your larger decisions are informed by knowledge of our future."

"Yes your Grace."

"So you are taking a short-term shortfall for a long-term windfall." I considered my response carefully. I took my time, rolling my jaw a little as I thought.

"This is not the most profitable use of my time or energies," I said.

"There are other ways I could generate a greater return. I will recoup plenty, to be assured. I do intend to be compensated for my investment, my negotiation, my foresight and my invention. But ultimately that will not be the reason that I am doing this. And I trust that my reasons will be apparent in due time."

"How much due time?" he said bluntly. Rabert winced.

"Eighteen months," I answered plainly. Rabert flinched. His circumspect soul was hurting at these forthright discussions. The duke was watching me, his turn to grind his teeth while he stared at me, thinking hard. He's an extremely well-informed man, the Skyback spy network is legendary. Probably the most effective and well-funded espionage operation in the kingdom, and damned effective counter-intelligence services as well. I assume he already knows everything that is known about me.

And right now he's weighing that dossier against his own instincts and judge of character, holding my eyes for a long, patient minute. Then he asked, "How many lives?"

"Millions," I said with no hesitation. We shook hands. It was his party so he could not give me more than a few minutes. I'm recently a crown princess of a duchy, but he's already a duke proper, and the host of the party, so he's the man of the hour. We'll have other chances to speak. Eventually there will be whole war councils with him at my side, if everything goes to plan. The Harigold family folded in around us as we moved to a more comfortable position.

I was done walking and presenting myself for the evening, time to settle into my own power. I spotted Nathan chatting with a small cluster of cousins and uncles, and I fished the Gyre out of my glove. Bruce was leaning on a cocktail table with his jacket draped over it, classic pose for holding a place for someone. He spotted me, and nodded as he took his coat up again, waving us to take our spots.

I spotted a familiar server who was at a convenient distance, and seemed to already have my ice water with lemon wedge. I gave her a smile and a wave, she smiled and headed our way, already prepared. This was a very good night. I think I can now officially declare that the the Independent faction is firmly in my corner, if not already in my pocket. The Skyback and Ebonder families have taken big steps, visible concrete steps, to ally themselves with me materially, and to support me.

From now on, my success is their success. And the third Independent house, the Aumerje, may still kind of hate me for making them waste all that money they were spending to lock me down for their own usage. But they have comprehensively learned not to fuck with me, and that's about as good as anyone can ever get from them. To them, actually respecting anyone outside of their own hierarchy is not possible.

I started my coin spinning, glancing at my brother, and muttered the usual request to the brass medallion while I erected the privacy bubble. My ears popped in response, but it's worth it. I don't trust this at all. Maybe he's found a way to slip my methods. Maybe he's just put all of his intrigues on hold for a while until my suspicions calm down. But I don't intend to give him my back any time soon. I make a mental note to chat with those cousins later on, to find out what he had to say to them.

I need to get a shape for his current scheme. Rabert cleared his throat.

"About what the surveyor was saying, Natalie."

"Yes?"

"Regarding the possibility of train robberies and bandits. Your answers were good, but not that good, and there's a tremendous amount of expense and risk in-""Oh! Right," I chuckled.

"I didn't say it out loud in front of her for obvious reasons- ""Yes?"

"They're my bandits." Rabert made a small choked sound, and grabbed my ice water from off the server's tray. He handed me the lemon wedge and splashed the ice water over his own head. Red-faced, he turned away from me.

"I'll be in the garden, walking it off," he said, and sort of limped away. Oh. Huh.