Chapter 13 #3
“To you as well, Translator Mythlan!” Grygg and Wilford smiled at her, whereas Thad gave her a more serious bow, and then the trio was out the door faster than Myth could respond.
They are a friendly bunch, Myth thought approvingly as she took her cup of tea—copying the captains in the way she very studiously avoided looking at Arvel. I can’t help but wish that they weren’t quite so formal—they seem like they’d be fun. But, I suppose, this is what it is like for Arvel…
* * *
Two days later, Myth was finishing making a copy of an elven trade log Arvel needed for his ongoing investigation against the Fultons. Once she finished the last line and put her copy aside to dry, she glanced at Arvel and Sir Arion, who were discussing the next leg of the investigation.
Feeling contemplative, she peered up through the magnificentskylights in the library ceiling, admiring the way rain tapped the glass as thunder rumbled.
It was only mid-morning, but the sky was swollen with dark, angry clouds.
She stretched her fingers out and rubbed her wrists as she took measure of the stack of logs Arvel had left piled up at his work station on the opposite side of the small table she had claimed.
I don’t know what other logs Arvel needs copies of and which ones the trade translators working with him already finished.
He appears to be too deeply entrenchedin his conversation with Sir Arion to interrupt…
perhaps I could find one of the High Elf magic books and look through it for a few minutes?
Myth pushed her chair back and was about to slink off in search of the book, when Arvel seemed to sense she was finished and slowly wandered back in her direction.
“For the next portion we’ll have to audit the Fultons’ family-kept records,” he told Arion in a hushed tone. “I’ll send one of my aides to pick the records up, but I want you to send a few Honor Guards—perhaps even a squad—with them.”
Both of Arion’s black eyebrows rose. “You think they would abuse your aide ?”
“No. If they did, we could properly nail them for misconduct. But that doesn’t mean Uncle Julyan won’t be nasty or petty—or arrange for an “accident” or two if he doesn’t have the incentive to leave my workers alone.
” Arvel’s frown was creased with worry, but he shifted to a smile when he and Arion reached her table. “Everything all right?”
“Yes.” Myth glanced from the logs to the shelves ringed around the open table area. “But is it really safe to discuss the investigation here?”
“It’s one of the safest places in the palace, actually,” Arvel said.
“The second floor has been cleared for our use—except for the librarians who come up to retrieve books for other patrons—and the library itself has been spelled enough so we can’t be overheard magically.
Of course, the Department of Investigation is spelled similarly, but while the Fultons wouldn’t know what happens in the department rooms, they’d see everyone I brought in and out.
It’s why I wanted to meet with Arion here, because it leaves the Fultons deaf and blind since they won’t think to watch the library. ”
“I see,” Myth said.
Arvel smiled and plopped down in the chair next to Myth’s. Sir Arion, however, remained standing.
“Can you truly expect to find anything useful in whatever records the Fultons give you?” the taciturn man asked.
“Nope—at least not much.” Arvel shrugged.
“They’ve undoubtedly been scrambling to adjust their records to support any claims they’ve made since I announced the investigation.
But if we’re lucky, in their rush they’ll make a mistake.
We’ll cross-reference their records with the trade records we have and compare them to their tax reports.
Already I’ve found enough inconsistenciesbetween those two records that we have enough to hit them with a painful fine.
But if we can use any of their records as our proof, it will be far more incriminating, and Father will reasonably be able to come down harder on them. ”
Sir Arion nodded, and for a moment his endless diligenceabandoned him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Perhaps you could send someone who could trick the Fultons into lowering their guard. If they can pull it off well enough, they might be able to liberate additional information.”
“If I illegally obtain information it won’t be permissible in court,” Arvel sighed.
“If we can find enough evidence in all of this, then Father would be within his rights to send in the Department of Investigation to take whatever information they can find. But given that Mother is a Fulton, we can’t throw around our royal power, or the Fultons will cry off to whatever countries they’re illegally selling their goods to, and it will become an international mess.
” For all of his disgust, he casually—and smoothly—managed to rest his arm on the back of Myth’s chair.
Myth didn’t react—this contact was nothing compared to the Prince of Seduction. “Could you use information taken from the Fultons if it was taken by accident?” she asked.
Arvel and Sir Arion swiveled their attention to her. “What do you mean, Myth?” Arvel asked.
Myth took a moment to select her words. “If, perchance, you sent someone the Fultons so underestimated that they didn’t hide as much information. Could the person—in their so-called ignorance—happen to take it?”
Sir Arion blinked. “I apologize, Translator Mythlan, but I am unable to follow your line of reasoning.”
Oh, blast this!
“I’m referring to myself,” Myth said. “If Lord Julyan incorrectly assumed—as others have—that I am unable to read or write Calnoric, he’d be more likely to leave information lying around, wouldn’t he?
Given that I can read and write Calnoric—at least enough to get by—” she ignored the noise of disagreement Arvel made and forged on, “wouldn’t it stand to reason that if I can tell it’s pertinentinformation, I could just take it?
That is, as long as Lord Julyan and any of his lackeys are distracted enough for me to attempt it.
After all, it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that I was supposed to pick up anything at all related to the investigation if it was just lying around. ”
Arvel and Sir Arion exchanged looks.
“She’s not wrong,” Sir Arion said.
“Maybe,” Arvel was slow to say. The furrow in his brows was so deep, his eyebrows looked like a piece of maligned crochet work. “But it puts Myth at risk.”
“I was the one who offered,” Myth said.
“I know, and I’m thankful. But conducting subterfuge is not a part of the vows you take as a translator…and it’s almost certain Uncle Julyan will try to retaliate once he realizes what happened,” Arvel said.
“I was already involved in an attack on you,” Myth said. “He can’t come after me any worse than that.”
“I will increase the patrols around the Translators’ Circle, as a precaution,” Sir Arion decided. “That is, if you think it could work.”
“There’s a strong possibility it would—especially if we tell the Fultons ahead of time,” Arvel said. “Uncle Julyan frankly asked Myth if she could read and write, and she used the ‘not skilled’ line.”
“Because it’s true,” Myth said.
Arvel moved his arm that he’d laid across the back of her chair, tilting it forward so it was draped over her instead.
“He also knows I trust her, and obviously I would send someone I trust to pick up the records, or he’d try bribing them or would resort to blackmail.
When I send the orders that Myth is going, I could even insinuate I chose her because she’s an elf, and I know he’ll conduct himself properly then. ”
“And he won’t suspect it’s a red herring?” Sir Arion asked.
Arvel shrugged. “He believes I’m…not incompetent, but easy to fool. And Mother is scarcely better. Both of them underestimate me enough that we should be able to get this past them—though I honestly don’t know if Uncle Julyan thinks so highly of himself that he’d leave the records lying out.”
“A man who is cocky enough to smuggle assailants into the palace with the intention of attacking the crown prince is hardly going to be meek in this.” Arion’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
“It’s more likely he’ll purposely put the records out—or at least a few papers out—to feed his superiority complex that he so carefully grows. ”
“You say that so surely,” Arvel said.
Sir Arion shrugged. “I’ve dealt with many humans. There are certain patterns and tendencies you start to recognize once seen enough.”
“Then it’s settled,” Myth said. “I will be the one to retrieve the records—and hopefully take some additional information.”
“Not so fast.” Arvel nudged her slightly on her back. “If you’re the one going in, I want even more guards with you.”
“If you send too many it might make Lord Julyan suspicious,” Myth said.
“I don’t care. Your safety is more important.”
“Rather than sending a regular guard with her, what if I send Captain Thad, Captain Wilford, and Captain Grygg?” Sir Arion asked. “They are more skilled and better trained than their men.”
Arvel scratched his cheek. “You’re that certain in their abilities?”
“Indeed. They are Gwendafyn’s frequent practice partners. It seems that amongst all the regular beatings she delivers them, they’ve learned additional skills,” Sir Arion dryly said.
“Yes, I imagine so.” Arvel glanced at Myth. “Would you feel safe enough with just the three of them?”
“Certainly, but they should wear a regular Honor Guard uniform—the lack of numbers won’t mean much if the three of them stride around with their red cloaks and armor.” Myth shifted the tiniest bit, more aware of Arvel’s arm resting on her shoulders than she should be.
“Ah—I’ll do one better than that!” Arvel leaned forward, removing his arm from her back so he could plant both his hands on the table. “We’ll send them in disguise! The Fultons will never guess who travels with you, and Uncle Julyan will remain as superior-feeling as ever.”
Sir Arion looked intrigued. “What sort of disguise would accomplish that?”