Chapter 20: Servant Troubles
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Breakfast is served in the smaller dining room. A buffet for the family and 'friends'. Quite the proper country house party, if you overlook the occasional fried lizard. It's almost over before Dr. Virginia Renwick bothers to mention that she has released Dick from the Clinic. I meet up with him just past the entrance to the second patio.
"Dick!" He comes into my arms and for a moment we say nothing more. Then I step back, taking in his sharp eyes and bright smile. Obviously the night's rest has agreed with him. "You're looking good. You missed breakfast, but..."
Grinning, Dick pulls me into the shade of one wide pillar. "Nope, I ate."
"Hospital food as bad here as home?" A shared joke, because except for once instance we have always had the good fortune to recover under Dr. Leslie's care. And Alfred's cooking is invariably excellent.
"I couldn't say." He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand. "But the kitchen is pretty good." After moment he adds, "As long as you don't mind the corn without the flakes."
"What!" I am so shocked I forget to control my voice. "The kitchen! I don't know what these people..."
Dick cuts me off with a finger to my lips. "Let it go."
I kiss the finger pad - just so he know's I'm *not* ignoring him - then continue. "It was bad enough last night when they assumed you were my son, but..."
Dick stops me this time with a kiss. Considerably more effective. He was always a good judge of tactics. The after-effect quiets me long enough to let him say "Alfred eats in the kitchen."
"Alfred let's *us* eat in the kitchen too," I remind him. "Only..."
"Bruce, it's better this way."
"What... that they think..."
"Exactly what we should want them to think." He gives a low snort, then turns serious. "What? You think I'm going to be upset by the social snobbery of a bunch of past-sale-date gajae?"
"But..."
"But this way," his voice is firm, "we get the gossip from both ends." A quick kiss on my lips effectively silences my rebuttal. "And now I can be a real hard-ass about keeping you in sight. Just doing my job, you know."
"You're right," I concede, returning the kiss with considerable interest. "As always. I just didn't plan on us spending our vacations sleeping in different *buildings*."
"Don't worry about that," he whispers, brushing his lips against my ear. "I told Doc Virginia you were a real paranoid. Not comfortable at all unless I was right at hand."
"Demanding boss, am I?"
"Total tyrant."
"Well, then I sure hope I'm paying you enough."
"Oh, don't worry." His low chuckle vibrates against my skin. "You'll pay - one way or another."
"With you?" I allow myself one more second of warmth before I step back into the passageway. "I always do."
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We head back to the guest wing, Dick listening carefully as I brief him on everything I have learned.
He returns the favor with the bits he picked up along with his fruit and porridge. He has the whole blood drenched history of this place, from Savage's arrival just after the Second World War, to his use of the abundant local gold to finance his science-hero career, to the eventual marriage to a local Princess which secured his claim to local divinity. Quite the story. I suppose by his era's standards it reflects well on him. Courage or something. I don't find it particularly endearing.
Still, Dick does confirm what Savage told me about the Jaguar's Tongue and local power. According to popular opinion, if the ritual blade isn't back in time, the natives believe they'll be seriously in trouble. And they are...well, not particularly endearing either. But they are probably no worse then any other population. They honestly don't deserve a war.
At least Savage does seem willing to trust me. Why, I don't quite know. Perhaps because of my father, who he seems to remember fondly. Perhaps because of Renwick's report. Perhaps just because I'm 'right' for his fantasy of the romantic adventurer. Whatever his reasons, and they are likely wrong ones, it's still the best decision he could have made. Because if someone is going to get that benighted artifact out of Aztec hands without setting this jungle on fire? Well, I don't think it's going to be him.
I consider what Dick told me about the situation, contrasting it with Savage's story. They match well enough - I think. We'll have to arrange another conference with Jones. Neither he nor Dinah came down for breakfast. Probably sleeping in after staying up all night - and not for reasons Dinah would appreciate.
If we have to move quickly? Not that I think we will, but...? Dick is ready. He's my most important backup. Dinah can work on low sleep, if she has to. I'd appreciate Jones with me as well, but if we have to leave him we can. Littlejohn is opinionated, not incompetent. As for the rest of Savage's men? They did well in that one fight. They've had years to become a team. Unless they're totally adverse to direction? I've had worse.
Of course, when where and if we move depends of Captain Muwan and his spies. An unknown, but I'll do Savage the courtesy of assuming his people are competent - at least until shown otherwise.
I'm not looking forward to another jungle hike, but if the knife is in Yankuikan? Helicopters would be too noisy. No chance for anything but an open battle, which is what I'm trying to avoid. VTOL? They don't have one, and if I brought one in I doubt they'd have space to land it. Not here, where at least some architectural concessions have been made to the modern words. Absolutely not in the maze of stone walls I am envisioning as Yankuikan. Body plane? Flight pack? Not a chance. Not without blowing my cover, which for these people's sake is not really worth it. And if I did have to? Then I might as well call in the heavies and just sit back.
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Dick is still unpacking when Patricia Renwick bustles into our room. "Really, Mr. Wayne. I'm sure your man would be more comfortable if we found him a room."
I smile blandly. "I'd prefer him here - with me."
"Here?" she blinks, put out but not quite with grounds to be offended. "We didn't build this wing with valet quarters..."
"So?" I slip into well practiced incomprehension. "Grayson can stay in my room. He has before."
"There really isn't a suitable second room nearby." By now she is speaking more to herself then to me. "Well... I suppose... I could have K'usal set up a cot."
"That would be acceptable," I concede.
"What?" My remark brings her back to an awareness of her audience. "You don't need to go to that sort of extreme, Mr. Wayne. I assure you, in this city you are perfectly secure."
"As my boat was?" I slip an edge of abused entitlement into my voice. "Or my Captain? No offense, my dear lady," I make the endearment slightly less then endearing, "but the local law enforcement seems to leave something to be desired."
She give me a look somewhere between a put-upon hostess and a put-out mother. "Don't tell me you expect him to sleep on the bare stone at the foot of your bed?"
"Oh," I smile innocuously, "I think I'd loan him a pillow."
END CHAPTER TWENTY
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Breakfast is served in the smaller dining room. A buffet for the family and 'friends'. Quite the proper country house party, if you overlook the occasional fried lizard. It's almost over before Dr. Virginia Renwick bothers to mention that she has released Dick from the Clinic. I meet up with him just past the entrance to the second patio.
"Dick!" He comes into my arms and for a moment we say nothing more. Then I step back, taking in his sharp eyes and bright smile. Obviously the night's rest has agreed with him. "You're looking good. You missed breakfast, but..."
Grinning, Dick pulls me into the shade of one wide pillar. "Nope, I ate."
"Hospital food as bad here as home?" A shared joke, because except for once instance we have always had the good fortune to recover under Dr. Leslie's care. And Alfred's cooking is invariably excellent.
"I couldn't say." He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand. "But the kitchen is pretty good." After moment he adds, "As long as you don't mind the corn without the flakes."
"What!" I am so shocked I forget to control my voice. "The kitchen! I don't know what these people..."
Dick cuts me off with a finger to my lips. "Let it go."
I kiss the finger pad - just so he know's I'm *not* ignoring him - then continue. "It was bad enough last night when they assumed you were my son, but..."
Dick stops me this time with a kiss. Considerably more effective. He was always a good judge of tactics. The after-effect quiets me long enough to let him say "Alfred eats in the kitchen."
"Alfred let's *us* eat in the kitchen too," I remind him. "Only..."
"Bruce, it's better this way."
"What... that they think..."
"Exactly what we should want them to think." He gives a low snort, then turns serious. "What? You think I'm going to be upset by the social snobbery of a bunch of past-sale-date gajae?"
"But..."
"But this way," his voice is firm, "we get the gossip from both ends." A quick kiss on my lips effectively silences my rebuttal. "And now I can be a real hard-ass about keeping you in sight. Just doing my job, you know."
"You're right," I concede, returning the kiss with considerable interest. "As always. I just didn't plan on us spending our vacations sleeping in different *buildings*."
"Don't worry about that," he whispers, brushing his lips against my ear. "I told Doc Virginia you were a real paranoid. Not comfortable at all unless I was right at hand."
"Demanding boss, am I?"
"Total tyrant."
"Well, then I sure hope I'm paying you enough."
"Oh, don't worry." His low chuckle vibrates against my skin. "You'll pay - one way or another."
"With you?" I allow myself one more second of warmth before I step back into the passageway. "I always do."
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
We head back to the guest wing, Dick listening carefully as I brief him on everything I have learned.
He returns the favor with the bits he picked up along with his fruit and porridge. He has the whole blood drenched history of this place, from Savage's arrival just after the Second World War, to his use of the abundant local gold to finance his science-hero career, to the eventual marriage to a local Princess which secured his claim to local divinity. Quite the story. I suppose by his era's standards it reflects well on him. Courage or something. I don't find it particularly endearing.
Still, Dick does confirm what Savage told me about the Jaguar's Tongue and local power. According to popular opinion, if the ritual blade isn't back in time, the natives believe they'll be seriously in trouble. And they are...well, not particularly endearing either. But they are probably no worse then any other population. They honestly don't deserve a war.
At least Savage does seem willing to trust me. Why, I don't quite know. Perhaps because of my father, who he seems to remember fondly. Perhaps because of Renwick's report. Perhaps just because I'm 'right' for his fantasy of the romantic adventurer. Whatever his reasons, and they are likely wrong ones, it's still the best decision he could have made. Because if someone is going to get that benighted artifact out of Aztec hands without setting this jungle on fire? Well, I don't think it's going to be him.
I consider what Dick told me about the situation, contrasting it with Savage's story. They match well enough - I think. We'll have to arrange another conference with Jones. Neither he nor Dinah came down for breakfast. Probably sleeping in after staying up all night - and not for reasons Dinah would appreciate.
If we have to move quickly? Not that I think we will, but...? Dick is ready. He's my most important backup. Dinah can work on low sleep, if she has to. I'd appreciate Jones with me as well, but if we have to leave him we can. Littlejohn is opinionated, not incompetent. As for the rest of Savage's men? They did well in that one fight. They've had years to become a team. Unless they're totally adverse to direction? I've had worse.
Of course, when where and if we move depends of Captain Muwan and his spies. An unknown, but I'll do Savage the courtesy of assuming his people are competent - at least until shown otherwise.
I'm not looking forward to another jungle hike, but if the knife is in Yankuikan? Helicopters would be too noisy. No chance for anything but an open battle, which is what I'm trying to avoid. VTOL? They don't have one, and if I brought one in I doubt they'd have space to land it. Not here, where at least some architectural concessions have been made to the modern words. Absolutely not in the maze of stone walls I am envisioning as Yankuikan. Body plane? Flight pack? Not a chance. Not without blowing my cover, which for these people's sake is not really worth it. And if I did have to? Then I might as well call in the heavies and just sit back.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Dick is still unpacking when Patricia Renwick bustles into our room. "Really, Mr. Wayne. I'm sure your man would be more comfortable if we found him a room."
I smile blandly. "I'd prefer him here - with me."
"Here?" she blinks, put out but not quite with grounds to be offended. "We didn't build this wing with valet quarters..."
"So?" I slip into well practiced incomprehension. "Grayson can stay in my room. He has before."
"There really isn't a suitable second room nearby." By now she is speaking more to herself then to me. "Well... I suppose... I could have K'usal set up a cot."
"That would be acceptable," I concede.
"What?" My remark brings her back to an awareness of her audience. "You don't need to go to that sort of extreme, Mr. Wayne. I assure you, in this city you are perfectly secure."
"As my boat was?" I slip an edge of abused entitlement into my voice. "Or my Captain? No offense, my dear lady," I make the endearment slightly less then endearing, "but the local law enforcement seems to leave something to be desired."
She give me a look somewhere between a put-upon hostess and a put-out mother. "Don't tell me you expect him to sleep on the bare stone at the foot of your bed?"
"Oh," I smile innocuously, "I think I'd loan him a pillow."
END CHAPTER TWENTY