Ivan Xav Vorpatril

"Allowing me and Ivan to stumble through the rest of the exhibition blind drunk, I suppose. Charming. Did you come pre-antidoted?"

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"No, it was - supposed to be harmless - I had arrangements to go and sleep it off. I thought it might be an - interesting sensation."

"Pervert," trills Ivan.

Yenaro glares at him.

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"That first night, at the Marilacan embassy," says Miles. "When I was burned - you weren't entirely faking all that apologetic fluttering, were you? You didn't expect that level of... severity."

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"I - thought perhaps the Marliacans had adjusted the power. It was supposed to shock, not - injure. I was told."

"The zlati ale was yours, though, wasn't it?" growls Ivan.

"You knew?!"

"I'm not an idiot."

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Miles leaves the pitcher on the floor next to the scorch mark and stands, gesturing to a little bench tucked against one side of the nook. "I've got something to tell you, Lord Yenaro, and I think you'd better be sitting down."

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Ivan helps with the sitting down thing. Yenaro looks aggrieved.

Ivan then also pours the remaining liquid onto the nearest potted tree.

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"This isn't just a few cute tricks played on the unsuspecting envoys of an old enemy," Miles says quietly. "You are a pawn in a treasonous plot against your own Empire. The last such pawn I know about was Ba Lura - I assume you've heard how it ended up. You were all set to play out the same pattern, just now." He gestures at the scorch mark for emphasis.

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"That - that can't be," says Yenaro after a silent moment. "It's too crude, it would have started a blood feud between his clan and those of the - bystanders."

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"No," Miles corrects. "It would have started a feud between their clans and yours. Because who would be around to say you hadn't set the trap yourself, and then incompetently walked into it with the rest of us? It would be the obvious conclusion, from the evidence available. A very elegant way for your backer to dispose of you at exactly the moment you ceased to be useful."

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"The Ba Lura..." says Yenaro slowly. "Committed... suicide."

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"No. It was murdered. Your Imperial Security is already headed down that trail. They'll reach the end eventually; I'm just not sure it will be soon enough."

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"You must believe - I would have no regrets if you two fell off a cliff. But I would not push you myself."

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"So I judged," he says, nodding. "For the sake of my curiosity - what were you promised, in return for all this? Or was the scheme its own reward?"

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"A post. You don't know what it's like - to be in the capital without a post. No position, no status, you're no one. I was tired of being no one. I was going to be Imperial Perfumer. It might not sound like much but - it would have gotten me entrance to the Celestial Garden, maybe the Imperial Presence itself. Would have worked among the very best of the Empire. I would have been good at it."

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"Yes," says Miles. "I imagine you would have been. Which governor was it, by the way?"

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"...Haut Ilsum Kety."

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"Thank you." He checks the time. "God, I'm late - you'll have to take it from here, Ivan. Good day, Lord Yenaro, and a much better one than you were meant to have."

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Ivan nods grimly.

Yenaro wilts.

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Miles nods shortly to both of them and heads off to the appointed meeting place.

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There is the ghem-lady, who hands him off after a walk to the same little ba he's been following, who takes him to a bubble in a secluded alcove in a cathedral-esque building.

"Hello again," says Linyabel. "Any luck?"

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"Yes, in fact. Lord Yenaro, the architect of my embarrassing accident, was all set to dump a pitcher of catalyst on a lovely rug made of five kilos of military explosive, cleverly disguised. I took him aside and demonstrated why this would have been a bad idea, using a thread from the rug and a drop from the pitcher, and he was very forthcoming in the ensuing conversation." Miles takes a breath. "It's Kety."

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isthisart

"Okay," breathes the bubble. "Excellent -" She drops her shield, and proffers one of the two flimsies of ship-map in her hand. "There's his ship's model mapped out. I have the ba uniform for you too, and a device that will detect the old-style power supply for the Key, but perhaps that should be transferred when you have a clearer idea of your plan."

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"Yes." He accepts the map and starts folding it carefully for concealment in his pocket. "Not until the very moment when I'm about to hare off and board a shuttle - and I can't, right now, I'd be missed too fast. We'll have to arrange something later that'll give me more lead time, if your Handmaiden can manage it. Old-style power supply, eh? Very unique, not likely to be casually duplicated in somebody's antique hair dryer? What kind of range does your detector have, do you know?"

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isthisart

"Short. Twenty feet, if that, less with something in the way. But it won't pick up any hairdryers."

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