Author's Note: Woah, we're almost there! Sorry I've taken so long. I've got the chapters written now, so here goes. This is the chapter before the chpater before the last one.
'Straight from the God's mouth'- A not very imaginative saying; fairly self-explanatory. Very Cherisse, however. Which is when I should explain that the Cherisse are Allorns, but outside because of their conversion to a particular religious doctrine. It usually implies talking sense, wisdom, or issuing a command. Sometimes it means all three.
'Talking the price of piss'- also self-explanatory. This is a Dross saying, though not a polite one, and it means talking rubbish. It's mostly used out of the politically correct Dross ministries.
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"Sarah was very taken with the quirop show," Vernon remarked.
Saxony nodded and concentrated on the sheet of heavy board between them. He could move the red but the forests were too close and the reds would be too obvious. Besides, what kind of tactician would he be if he lost a messenger troop in the forest?
"I found it remarkably ironic," Vernon continued, pulling a hard cushion out from under himself, "She said she couldn't understand how the actor could relinquish all control to the puppeteer and still be so animated."
Saxony paused and looked up from the game of fletcher. "She said that?" He moved his piece without looking at it.
"Oh yes." Vernon squinted. "Your move again."
"No. The grays are resting. It's your turn."
"Of course," Vernon said. It wasn't, but he conceded gracefully. Even if Saxony was making the game up as he went. Royalty was allowed to rest troops where and when they wanted, although the grays were heavily laden with large battle equipment and were currently at the foot of a hill. "Court to the lakes."
Saxony chuckled. "I suspected you might." He swung the grays to the right but marched the yellow, light troops to the grounds so recently vacated by his enemy. Prime siege position in light of the current tides.
He grinned in satisfaction as Vernon cursed beneath his breath in Satath. The younger man was impatient where strategies were concerned. That pleasant face hid a temper.
"I give," Vernon grunted. He threw the dice down to the board.
"We're only halfway through."
"There's not much point, is there? My Court is trapped."
"There are a few maneuvers you could try."
Vernon glared at him. "Since you know what they are, there is no point at all."
"There are other ways… alright, alright. Don't scowl; you're scaring the servants." Saxony played idly with the golden eye around his neck. An affectation his goblin counterpart had borrowed, this medallion. Only, Jareth wore his openly and Saxony preferred his hidden. After all, one did not flaunt a dangerous and priceless magical heirloom.
"You did very well," Saxony consoled, "Sometimes one must lose." He received a slighter lighter scowl from across the small table. "You were thinking too much of Sarah."
Vernon muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"It is a friendly game, not a tournament. You caught me off guard." There was a distinct dimple deepening in the man's cheek.
"Yes, I know. Stop sulking."
Vernon relaxed, stiff muscles protesting his prolonged stay in golden seats. He was used to travel and only the festival itself had kept him so long in one place. He stared at a carved Venii angel instead of Saxony's round face and felt better for it. At least her stone features didn't radiate smug righteousness back at him.
They were back in the Hall from that first evening, sitting at a small table set up by a boonan for their convenience. There were others, but the Hall was big and privacy expected. Other pairs or small groups were clustered in the midst of the oversized statues, far enough away that only echoes and whispers trailed uncomprehendingly over the ground.
"Oric seems very taken with the girl," Saxony said unexpectedly, "I wonder why."
Vernon offered an informal shrug. "I wonder how Evelyse's play is going."
"Lady Evelyse. Such a charming flirt."
Vernon pretended ignorance, just to see what Saxony would do. "Is she? I had no idea." He didn't feel up to exchanging information. He didn't want the underlying seriousness.
"Oh, yes. But flirts, alas, do not excite me as they used to," Saxony mourned. He played with a little ivory chip he had discovered hiding half under the board. It's carved façade was dull and matte, but the delicate whorled edges made it sensual to the touch.
"Unfortunate."
Saxony felt a twinge of annoyance. It hadn't been his idea to play a game. If left to himself, he would have been at Evelyse's play, showing his face where it was proper for him to do so, not sitting in corners to excite unease and rumour.
"I agree. I'm getting very bored with the normal arrangements," he murmured, twisting the chip between his fingers.
"But Sarah interests you," Vernon replied tartly.
Saxony flipped the chip up into the air. The slight glow around the object was the only warning before it vanished. The Gerengh King never did resort to crystals to contain his magic.
"I'm almost jealous," Vernon observed, "A little while ago, my potential to be King was more amusing to you."
"It still amuses me. Did I tell you that I let that fact slip to Leeman Brace?"
Vernon frowned, shaking his head. "No."
"I did. He said he always knew. An old informant of his uncle's."
"Whom? Oric has told no one. Not Jareth?"
"No, not Jareth. Much closer to Greville."
"In this court or outside?"
"Within. Interestingly enough, Clairen," Saxony laughed, "I would never have thought it of our untouchable Allorn, but Lee said he was young and somewhat temperamental in those days."
Vernon couldn't even begin to picture that in his head. The thought of Clairen as a person and not the living embodiment of impartial political critique was something strange. Clairen had so long been the mentor, the observer- the eye that saw and understood- that it required too much concentration to hear of him 'compromised' by a foolish decision.
On the other hand, there was Nila…
"How is Nila?" Saxony interrupted, a sly grin twitching on his round face while he tucked his medallion back into the neck of his shirt.
"I don't know."
"Did Clairen ever offer for her?"
"I don't really know." Far more wary, this time.
Those blue eyes darkened ever so slightly. Saxony never lost his temper, but he did get angry. The change in his demeanor was always noticeable, if only because it happened so rarely. "Vernon, how are we to do business if you have no information to trade."
Ah yes- compromised. Vernon had forgotten that. But this was a new situation for him. He shrugged again, apologetically. "You'll have to ask for information I have, Sax." He was aware of the tightening of Saxony's jaw, of the downward turn to that mouth. He still tried, attempting to get close enough without crossing the line.
Saxony would have none of it- "That is not how the game is played. I ask for information, and you supply it. What you know and how you find out is not my concern. You might need to look closer for some of it. Those, Vernon, are the rules."
"There are some things I am not privy to. Personal information and policies from the inner circle!"
"Then find them out. A good spy has others he can trust. A good spy is organized."
"I am not a spy," Vernon answered swiftly. He got to his feet and majestically moved to leave the room. An old trick of Clairen's, to mask unease with theatrics and dignity.
But he had forgotten that Saxony was not the sort to be fooled by surfaces. His magic was unbound, unfettered. He saw the world through the eye around his neck. He knew.
Saxony was in front of him with a few quick steps, his hands tight on Vernon's arm. The fingers of the other hand roe to tip Vernon's face up, and then his mouth covered Vernon's mouth in a hard kiss.
Vernon was mostly indignant at this manhandling of his person. He pushed Saxony off him perfectly easily. As it stood, the Troll King was off-balance and distracted as it was. And then he felt it in his mouth. He almost swallowed it, he was so angry.
Spitting into his hand, Vernon was stunned to find the little game chip that Saxony had disappeared mere moments ago.
He looked from Saxony's grinning face to the rest of the room, where everyone seemed to have noticed their struggle. He flushed in mortification, resigned to the story becoming the evening's passing remark. After all, he was a hired diplomat, Saxony was a king, and they were both men. Affairs had to maintain some kind of discretion.
"Strange, isn't it? The things that come out of someone's mouth?" Saxony put his hand back on Vernon's arm, but in a light clasp, apologizing to him in his typical careless way. He hadn't meant any harm.
Vernon glared at him but allowed it. Handed the chip back, too. "Straight from the God's mouth," he murmured, keeping a straight face.
"Talking the price of piss," Saxony retorted.
Vernon bowed extravagantly and held the door open for the Gerengh King. A boonan slithered up to them just outside the door and held out a bag.
Saxony dropped the game chip in and promptly forgot about it. "It has often struck me that slaves are a very nice thing to have around the place."
"That depends on what you call a slave," Vernon replied, "Oric will gladly sell you a few families of boonans, if you wish. They multiply so fast."
"They'd have no place in my palace. They'd get confused with my gerenghs. This way?"
"Do you want to go out or stay in?"
"Both," Saxony replied impulsively.
Vernon offered him a limpid glance. "Ah, then we go straight. There's a new indoor garden down here."
"Indoor… dare I ask?"
"No, not Sommy. Pikeshead made it. There's been some talk about it lately."
"An indoor garden? I don't wonder!"
"Oh, not the garden, just the art."
"Controversial, is it?"
Vernon nodded gravely and kept his laughter to himself. "Oric would have had it destroyed months ago but he invoked the law. You kow."
"Five years protection?"
"From the day the work is made public, yes."
"I thought the Inner Circle could advice her to overrule?"
"The Inner Circle can vote to advice her to overrule it. They never have before. She chose not to, anyway. She says it's not a good example to other artists."
The heavy door to one of the less useful sitting rooms done entirely in bird and animal hides dyed blue was gone. In its place was a series of shallow steps and an archway.
Art in the Allorn Queen's palace was always one of two things- overwhelming or exquisite. It was intended to strike the viewer dumb, either with pure pleasure, or through an inability to understand how such a monstrosity had ever been given shape. Very rarely did any aesthete manage unassuming. This gateway was not unassuming; unassuming would have been an improvement on the inability to understand why it was created.
"Go up," Vernon invited.
Saxony eyed the eyeless woman on the archway who nevertheless managed to squint at him. "I'm almost afraid. He doesn't have predator plants in there, does he?"
"No," Vernon reassured him, "It's an experience, but quite a safe one. Go on."
Saxony shook his dark head and went up. He found himself ankle-deep in a flowerbed.
"A miscalculation on his part," Vernon excused, appearing on the top step, "He meant it to be a carpet of flowers but he wouldn't listen to his gardeners' advice. Now we take care to wear boots in here."
"I must say," Saxony began slowly, "This seems a loathsome place."
Vernon gazed pleasantly back at him. "As you say."
Saxony took two steps towards the green lawn set so carefully in the middle and the wet cloying mud of the flowerbeds squelched. "But then there's Kartech's remarkable treatise on art to be considered."
"The Natural Art Theory is well known," Vernon agreed.
Saxony made an experimental hop. The mud squelched. He hopped again. The mud squelched again.
In between hopping to hear the mud squelch, he quoted, "Oh, for the landscaper who paints the excrement the shameless animals leave behind. The bard who sings of insects and gangrene on our brave battlefields."
Vernon obligingly joined in- "Or the poet who writes verses on his lover's pink…"
"I love it!" Saxony declared.
"Those lines are erotic to some," Vernon allowed, "But gangrene and excrement?"
"The garden! Not his lover's pink…"
"Please! My blushes! My sensitivities!" Vernon fluttered his eyelashes coyly.
"I recall nothing sensitive about some of your…"
Vernon threatened to leave. "As much as I enjoy the conversation, you go too far, old friend."
"Friend? How flattering."
They fell into silence, squelching to the lawn at the centre. Saxony gave one last jump in the mud before striding to the stone bench. He took a seat and stared around critically at the trailing vine on the walls and the young flowers still beginning to bloom in the beds.
Vernon sat beside him.
Wordlessly, Saxony took his cigarette case from the inner pocket of his jacket and proffered one to his companion. The matches slid easily from their place.
Vernon was the first to break that silence, the relaxant in the cigarette thinning his natural cautions- "Why is the world so excited by Sarah, Sax? I can't see it. She's a charming girl, though granted I've only ever seen her as a male, but nothing spectacular. There are three other new girls at this festival and all of them are ignored. Why Sarah?"
"I thought it obvious."
"Mostly, yes. But I want you to explain." The flirtatious grin flickered momentarily to life. "You're so much cleverer than I, Sax."
Saxony sighed affectionately and draped one arm around the other man's shoulders. "You remember when we spoke of Ementer, I asked how to turn a tame creature wild. This is very similar. Sarah has a savagery in her blood. Her desires are very real needs. It's always flattering to be needed, Vernon."
"You have compared the heir to the throne of the Goblin King to a pet," Vernon commented, "Huh."
"Imbecile."
"Decadant."
"You're not jealous, are you? Sarah doesn't seem your type."
Vernon grimaced. "She's not. I like the wild creatures."
"Like Sarah's birthfather. You did tell Robert you were only joking, didn't you?" Saxony needled.
Vernon didn't rise to the bait. "I did, yes. I like the wild creatures who can be tamed. That wasn't Robert."
"I remember Jareth didn't like you too well at the time."
"That's why I told Robert," Vernon shrugged, "Had to. Everyone knew something was wrong when Jareth punched me. It was only fair to give the man the truth."
"And yet you seemed to find your way to Sarah's side quite a lot before Oric took a fascination for her," Saxony said.
"At the time I thought she was wild. I have since changed my mind. Why?"
"I thought you might have reacted to the way she was adopted by everyone else."
"In part," Vernon sighed, "It can be hard to be properly flirtatious when the poor thing can't tell you from everyone else around her."
"I grant you that. Oric has certainly taken to complimenting her every second breath."
"But not Nico."
"No, not Nico," Saxony mused. He took his arm back and sat, smiling at the little 'bet' he had placed.
"Beatrice?"
Saxony laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Beatrice thinks of Sarah as a commodity. She estimates that Sarah would fetch a king's ransom in the free markets."
Vernon didn't find it so funny. Sarah was attractive as far as his helplessness to be otherwise, but Vernon felt a vague sense of concern for the Princess. Perhaps because his parents seemed so inclined to leave Sarah to the questionable devices of others.
"Don't fall asleep. Evelyse's play will finish soon."
"So it will. What are you doing this evening?"
"Business with a Dross councilman. I intend to get a foot in that door, with or without Jareth's help. You?"
"Business with Clairen. Minor matters concerning certain new transport restrictions for Beinheir." Vernon took a long, last drag on the remains of his cigarette, thinking not for the first time that Jareth was a fool not to promote the export of this product in the worlds. They had potential to be very popular.
"Has Clairen made a play for that new inverse yet?" Saxony questioned, shattering the calm.
Vernon had no way to answer that. He sincerely hoped that the answer was a negative one, but given Clairen's current state, it probably wasn't.
