Thar Shaddin

Eluira wore a mask of mild interest, the kind one presented when family discussions turned to the less important trivias. Internally, though, she was gauging whether she would have to re-evaluate Guiomar's value as a wild card. The sharp-tongued Morcillo woman tended to disrupt the usual equilibrium of any social gathering, and Eluira had carefully cultivated a working relationship with the woman. "Julia does tend to be overprotective. But perhaps you are correct in that she should be more proactive on young Silvestre's behalf."

Utter nonsense, of course. There was no such problem beyond the need to keep assassins at a distance. Julia and Beltran had been working extensively to solidify Silvestre's position. It concerned Eluira that Guiomar was becoming so overt in projecting her ambitions, to the point Sarita would feel comfortable countering with a direct riposte. Blunt force intrigue was all well and good, but that still required subtlety, which Guiomar seemed to be forgetting. "But perhaps someone can clarify what Diego, whose attention seems to be wandering, meant by pestering? That does sound a little troublesome when one has a busy schedule." The Marquesa added a dry rejoinder to keep things interesting "Not that I'd know what being pestered by relatives is like. I can only imagine the frustration."

Diego blithely ignored Eluira's comments, understanding well the woman's numerous little ways of keeping a conversation balanced in her favour. Having achieved his own goal of raising the topic, Diego affected the slightly baffled demeanor of a man whose attention had been gained immediately upon waking, and left any responses to Sarita.

"Guiomar is at a delicate age where she must prepare her family for when she can no longer be around. I would hardly call her desire to ensure her family is well taken care of 'pestering'. She is a concerned mother who should have grandchildren but does not."

Sarita looked at Diego. "I cannot fathom why Senor Diego would find her to be so distressing. She is more direct than many within our family, but others have been excused for more in regards to advancing age." She looked back to Eluira, tipping her head slightly to one side.

Boring.

Costanca allowed her face to brighten as though she had just remembered a particularly juicy detail. "Oh! Great Aunt Guiomar spoke to me of a Lumbroso threat to Vbeda." She lowered her voice, leaning forward. "I think she thinks they want to ruin dear cousin Ignacio. She mentioned her other children to me; I must admit to ignorance, for I had thought them settled. None of them could properly manage the Matri lands or the estate, could they? From what I have heard they are all so busy. Though not with ensuring dearest Auntie Guiomar has her heirs," Costanca giggled. It was a restrained giggle, as giggles went, quiet and chiming. A perfectly feminine sound, and not too brainless.

Costanca heard the very loud sigh Sarita managed to not expel, and therefore did not show the broad grin that threatened to break free. She was very proud of herself.

Diego could have rolled his eyes. He didn't, preferring to maintain the demeanour of amused indifference, but he could have. Sarita was brilliant in many regards, but she was about as dry as a desert and sometimes seemed to lack the versatility to switch from caution to calculated gambles. 'Concerned mother' his impeccably tailored sleeves. What nonsense. Diego had always wondered if she habitually kept people like Solana and Costanca around to make up for those failings, to let others voice the opinions that her extreme sense of propriety would not allow her to speak. It was hard to tell, really. One could analyse the woman for years or flip a coin and have an equal chance of coming to the truth of it. Still, he'd cast a net and obtained a haul of information, which was what mattered.

Still, he would have to be more circumspect, in case Sarita was indeed more on side with Guiomar than he had suspected, something which could prove irksome. Though not as deeply involved in family politics, due to his role, the assassin still had his preferences and a strong view as to which families were more beneficial to the success of Morua in the long term. Honestly, the Morcillos were wealthy and connected, but they lacked subtlety of intellect. If they lost their economic edge, they'd have little to offer.

Truth be told, Ignacio's very existence offended Diego. That such an obviously defective human being could hold rank and lands whilst someone as brilliant as himself was forever destined to do Morua's dirty work from the shadows... well, there was a problem with the system. The glaring injustice would not be so apparent if someone with obvious potential like young Silvestre was being groomed for the position. At least then, Diego conceded, he'd be able to rationalise the entire situation as he did everything else and get on with doing what he did so well: removing obstacles to the success of House Morua. It just felt that, right now, Guiomar and Ignacio were such an obstacle, and Diego itched to remove them. Still, Diego knew Eluira was fond of Julia, and if he could subtly present the obvious benefits of favouring Silvestre's claim, he'd have sabotaged Guiomar's power-play for at least a couple of months. Which would hopefully give him time to fetch back Sola, put another boot into the Morcillo ambitions, then get sent off on another errand. It was a nice plan, broad in scope.

Diego was saved any initial effort, though, by another brilliant offensive from Costanca. Really, tendencies to pout whine and sulk aside, the girl had a talent for saying the right thing at the right time in a way that made it seem like the wrong thing at the wrong time. It was a peculiar form of genius, to cultivate a reputation for being a vapid court flower, and use that to deliver blindsiding social and political thrusts. The assassin merely drawled afterwards "Quite so. And as for Ignacio, all one has to do is be forced to sit at his dinner table to realise he can ruin himself without any external help. It's about time they retire the poor man to some small, quiet estate where he can enjoy butchering poetry, and let a more capable and intelligent scion of the main house step up to the task." Diego yawned "The sooner the better. And frankly, Julia and Beltran have done a fine task of raising Silvestre. He has a keen feel for swordplay and a sharp mind. Everything a young nobleman of house Morua should be, and I'm sure none here could disagree with that."

Eluira was smirking on the inside, but affected a slightly stern appearance and gave Diego his cue to return to the shadows "A late night, Senor? Pestering Sarita's maids perhaps? Young Silvestre has better manners than to yawn so blatantly." Diego saw the double pursing of Eluira's lips after her statement, a sign of a strong hand with several high trumps, which convinced him he'd got his point across. The assassin smiled "You are correct in almost every detail, Marquesa." Diego didn't specify further, which he knew would annoy her deeply. "I am sure none will mind if I sit back quietly and let my weary mind keep its errors of judgment to itself, so that you ladies may proceed with taking care of the duchy's business with the finesse to which I am accustomed."

"I am sure," Sarita interjected smoothly, "that young Silvestre would do fine. However, I would caution interference in that situation. The Dona Guiomar has married into the Vbeda family, lest it has been forgotten," Sarita was speaking to the room at large, though Costanca had a feeling the words were meant for herself and Diego. Indeed. "Senor Ignacio and her other male children are Vbeda scions. While Senora Julia is of proper de Morua blood, and close family to Senor Diego, she is married to Senor Beltran -- a man whose blood runs back to deep Lumbroso roots. A man whose sympathies have remained with his Lumbroso heritage, no matter his present name. Lumbroso and Vbeda, the two families whose companies have multi-national holdings. The two families who are married into de Morua yet have holdings in both Belleza and Quijas. The two families with the most famous blood feud in Corezo.

"It is not a situation I would treat with idle gossip. Nor is it one I would allow affections to taint. The Illustrious Dona Guiomar is, as I said, a concerned mother. The most dangerous kind: she has something she feels she needs to defend. She has long ago cast aside any thought of what is best for de Morua. She believes in the Vbeda agenda. While I agree that the situation is nearing a point where it needs to be dealt with, I had secured a meeting with her for just that purpose; a negotiation cannot be managed until her purpose and intent in the matter -- as well as what exact hand she is holding -- is determined.

"Don Ponç is not the sort of man to allow slight to his wife or his family go without answer."

As rebukes went, it wasn't as wordy as Costanca knew Sarita to be capable of. There were two high spots in her sister's cheeks, though she remained composed. Ohhhh, she was holding back for Eluira's sake. How polite.

"Surely you can't be saying you don't want dearest cousin Silvestre, most deserving of men, to supervise these most worthy de Morua estates?" Costanca drawled the question, though she did put emphasis on de Morua. They were traditionally de Morua lands. Letting them fall into Vbeda hands? There was trouble.

"I am saying," Sarita said, the words heavy as lead, "this is a matter to be settled at a later date. Dona Eluira, if you would like, I would have no qualms should you wish to sit in on my meeting with Dona Guiomar tomorrow."

The Marquesa sighed inwardly. Diego, as usual, had let his sense of mischief get the better of him and it seemed Costanca was every bit as ready to tweak Sarita's whiskers as Diego. It was, however, kind of Diego to bring this development to her attention. It seemed that it was a topic Sarita had intended to keep to herself until she'd carefully gone through the options and made up her mind as to the most politically expedient move. Which was the safe and dull approach, and utterly lamentable given the parties involved. The woman needed to learn to enjoy the role as much as Eluira had, like Beatriz before her, or she'd go grey before her time.

Eluira said in a crisp tone "I am certain that such gossip is unlikely to pass beyond these walls. Be a dear, Sarita, and don't get so wound up over the little details when it's not at crisis point. We're all family here, after all." Which was, of course, the problem. Everyone was family in Morua. Picking between families was like deciding between the Rock and the Hard Place at times, and Sarita liked to build fences between them all and sit there when the opportunity availed itself. "And as much as I'd love to visit Morveres I have certain matters which, though I have postponed them for your sake, will require my utmost attention tomorrow. I'm sure you can confidently handle a Morcillo without my interference, dear. Instead, rather than all this fuss, I invite you to dedicate the rest of your afternoon here to relaxation. I shall have Dalfina ready rooms for you all."

The Marquesa was slightly glad when Jolant returned, the signal that the maids were arriving with the next round of refreshments. "Perhaps that relaxation can commence with the shortbread teacakes. One of the tricks, I am told, is to use freshly churned butter." Life would have been easier if the Morcillos had kept out of the Vbeda-Lumbroso imbroglio. The now-infamous feud between Beatriz and Guiomar might have remained at the level of sharp words if the matter hadn't become tied up in the silent war between Vbeda and Lumbroso interests. Beatriz, of course, had supported the Lumbroso and stymied many of the Vbeda efforts to further expand their family influence within the main house of Morua. And had, admittedly, paid the price. But so had Guiomar. Eluira had decided to let the feud fester by itself during her tenure, merely adding a slight nudge here and there in favour of Julia and Beltran.

Why Diego would be bothered with any of it was beyond Eluira's comprehension. She knew the man had no sense of nostalgia or sentiment towards Beatriz, nor towards anyone that she could ascertain, save perhaps for Salvador. The man was about as cold and calculating with his emotions as a Moruan could get. About the only genuine sentiment she could read from his carefully staged bout of theatrics was his disdain for Ignacio. And even now Diego had weathered Sarita's lecture with the same indifferent smile. Her hand itched to land a riding crop across the scarred muscles of the man's shoulders.

The housemaids set the beverages by each guest and provided a platter of shortbreads, pastries, and sideplates for the group to enjoy. Diego, accepting his coffee, sat back and adhered to his commitment to sit quietly. Sarita had let herself get rather worked up over the affair, which was somewhat curious, and suggested she had more at stake in the matter than was immediately apparent. Still, the reputation for being uptight was deserved, so the assassin wasn't entirely surprised that she'd not handled the sudden exposure all that well. What did spark Diego's idle curiosity was that Sarita didn't particularly want Eluira involved in the affair at all. Still, he'd leave that for Eluira to look into. He'd set the stage to obstruct the Morcillos as planned, and knew Eluira well enough that he'd be bound for Semerkhet soon enough, so the rest was out of his hands. Which was fine, really. Such matters did not require his micromanagement. Merely a nudge of the right person at the right time to encourage others' interests to align with his own. "I must compliment your staff, Marquesa. They prepare the coffee delightfully well." Diego fluttered his fingers against the mug according to their personal cipher and twitched an eyebrow.

Eluira dryly responded to Diego's desultory return to courteous speech "I should hope so." Two of the Marquesa's fingers tapped the underside of her teacup: message received, offer accepted. "But tell me dears, as I must spend some time in the company of this paperwork rather than acting as gracious hostess, how would you like to spend the afternoon? There are extensive gardens, reading rooms, and the usual parlours and drawing rooms for casual conversation and card games."

There was a pretty use of words. Be a dear and don't get so wound up over the little details. Sarita hated to be told to calm down, or to relax, or to let it go. She was so very set in her ways it was almost problematic, though Costanca knew her sister had the flexibility for it to remain an annoyance rather than the roadblock it could be. Her servants had overheard as much over the years, and she'd been in on enough "family" meetings to have observed the events.

Not that Sarita didn't use it to her advantage. The morrow would bring an interesting conversation, at the least. Something to look forward to now that the fireworks had been called off for the vening. A pity. While Costanca had no qualms with devouring each of the delicious pastries that came her way, food was hardly so appetizing without accompanying entertainment. Indeed, Costanca was so often bombarded by sweet breads of some kind or another that she'd found herself a certain distaste for them over the years. Still, appearances. She gave ever indication of enjoyment as she picked one up with delight, delicately taking bites with small, engrossed sounds.

Sarita remained quiet long enough that Costanca picked up the slack. "Are you still in possession of the ponies?" Costanca asked. She'd reigned in enough of her exuberance as to seem proper, but she shifted her facial expression enough to just give a teasing hint of what she was holding back. Costanca didn't give a shit about horses, but she maintained extensive stables for a reason. As far as everyone was concerned, she delighted in quiet rides with pomp and fashion. She treated the beasts as if they were fashionable excessories, and in some cases they were. Actually, they had started to come back into fashion. Afternoon tea, when one had guests, was a longstanding tradition. Costanca used the recent recurrance of an afternoon ride being vogue after tea to her own benefit. Granted it was also a good way to get oneself offed, but Costanca didn't need to worry about that from dear old Aunt Eluira.

Yet.

Sarita stiffened slightly, but she maintained her neutral, stuffy business expression. Really, what would she do without her younger sister to help her along?

An afternoon ride? With the history of assassination attempts on Costanca, Eluira could sympathise with Sarita on this topic. An opportunity to smooth prissy ruffled feathers, perhaps. "I do, though they have been through a patch of colic recently, and the head groom has advised at least another week before they will be recovered enough for riding. But if it is fresh air and sunlight you desire, you may roam the gardens at your leisure. They are quite secure."

Diego chimed in, between sips of coffee, to state "I'll take advantage of your library, if you don't mind, Marquesa." Eluira had some glossaries and grammaries regarding the languages used in Semerkhet with which the assassin planned to brush up on his own adequate knowledge of the trade language.

Eluira nodded "As you will, senor. A quiet afternoon would not go amiss with you, I think. And what about you, Sarita?" The Marquesa's office beckoned to her, with the task of some heavy reading ahead, and Eluira was inclined to waste no further time on frivolities when there was work to be done.

Costanca pouted. She patted her dress, setting down her tea with the sort of affront best used for grave insults. In reality, she was miffed. A horse ride would have been better than a stroll in the garden, particularly because eavesdroppers had a much harder time keeping up on horseback than the numerous opportunities presented in the gardens. Quite secure Costanca had the utmost trust in: secure enough to hide any number of nosy servants, just as one could not take two steps in Morveres without someone snitching about it to Sarita.

"I will escort my sister," Sarita said, her voice prim and grave all at the same time.

Costanca sniffed rather loudly, showing her opinion of that, and managed to cram one more treat into her mouth -- in a ladylike manner, of course.

"Shall we see you at dinner?" Sarita asked, even as she rose from her seat in preparation to leave the Marquesa's company.

The Marquesa gave her guests a warm smile "Of course I shall. Do enjoy yourselves in the meanwhile. I have placed Dalfina at your disposal. Merely alert any of my staff to your needs and they shall, where possible, be met." Eluira had the experience and restraint not to laugh. It seemed Costanca, for all her skill in drawing blood socially, lacked the self-discipline not to pout like a child. It was little wonder Sarita had a feeling about her of someone who'd bit into an unripe lemon. Rising to stand, Eluira said "Now, time is a valuable resource dears, and I must use it with care.".

Eluira picked up the scroll of paperwork and, holding it like a general's baton, snapped a quick pair of orders to her personal servants "Jolant, do not take long. Sabastia, archives." The Marquesa's maid and valet nodded in response to their vague instructions and left the room. Eluira swept from the parlour like a crimson-sailed ship leaving port. Diego watched her leave, then said "That went quite well."

Diego had amused Costanca for about a day's worth of time. An admirable quality to find in a man, and one she was thankful to him for, but the impatience building up past her collar bones was full ready to pop, and she dared not have him near when it was ready to go. Some things only girls needed speak together for.

So she spoke before Sarita could. "Cousin Diego," she said, her irritation melting into foppish concern, "you seem to be quite jittery this afternoon. I didn't dare mention anything in front of Auntie, but. . ." she trailed off, biting her lower lip. Her brows drew together in an expression she knew made her look prettily puzzled. Her lips pulled slightly to one side, highlighting her dimple.

Sarita remained quiet, but Costanca guessed there would be a touch of white around her lips. 'Twas what happened when you kept them pinched for so long. Unattractive, really.

Diego sighed. It was good that he would be headed for Semerkhet soon. Work was always far more rewarding than these pointless little exchanges where there was nothing of merit to gain or lose. The assassin, seated comfortably in his chair, was the model of relaxation. "Do not fool yourself into believing you are quite so subtle as you imagine, Costanca. It may work amongst the more vapid of our peers, or those whose good sense is overcome by perfume and fine clothing, but it will not stand up to the scrutiny of those such as Eluira." Or Sarita, or Diego himself, for that matter.

Diego shrugged "You are not concerned about what you perceived as my 'jitters', despite what I must concede is a very good act. Rather, you want to know what it was all about. Or perhaps you were hoping I'd become uncomfortable and make haste to the library. It has been a long fortnight however, and I have much preparation ahead of me if I am to succeed in Semerkhet, so please speak plainly."

Costanca smiled prettily at Diego, so both her dimples bracketed her lips in the manner that court poets had deemed 'sweet' along with other such notions. She stood, and curtsied. "I would hate for you to mishandle your sword," she said, quite airily, as if they were yet on the topic of food.

"It is done," Sarita said, her toilettries bag hidden as if it had never existed in the first place. As it should be. "Was there anything else you had need from me, Senor?"

Costanca remained smiling at Diego as if she was a painted doll, listless without her owner's hand to move her. "A new wardrobe, perhaps?" She spoke at just the interval when another person might have spoken.

Diego smiled "I'm sure the idea of myself mishandling my sword fills you with delight." Diego arose from his seat. He'd planned a delay to his response as he stood, but the gap was filled by Costanca's quip rather than silence. Diego straightened his sleeves then gave Sarita her answer "Not at all, Dona Sarita. I know what my task is to be be, and know Eluira well enough to know her decision will be in our favour. I am certain all the information I will otherwise need is safely in Morveres." A slight tightness to the assassin's smile alongside the emphasis was a brief reminder that Morveres had lost its reputation as impervious to infiltration.

Diego set his empty coffee cup and saucer on a table by the side door as he concluded "Therefore, my time here will be best spent in the library." Diego grinned "And yes, Costanca, you will be pleased to know that this task will require additions to my wardrobe. Do enjoy your stroll." With a slight bow, Diego slipped from the room before any could make further reply, and swiftly made his way to the library.

Sarita looked sidelong at Costanca, who had dropped all expression as soon as the door had shut. They shared a long look in the vast silence that remained, broken only by Sarita's very polite, "Shall we?"

Costanca regained her typical bubbly expressiveness once they left the room, trailing her standard giggles and conversation behind them. The staff was professional and remained out of sight as the two women walked the halls and ended up at a side entrance to the gardens.

Winters in the Valencuri region were typically mild affairs, though they had been known to get terrible snowstorms depending on the weather. The gardens, however, were yet in full bloom and lovely as anything ever got in Valencuri. Too bad. If they were just a bit more west and north, hitting one of the higher elevations in Corezo, the plants would have shed their leaves and blooms, and Costanca would have more easily been able to tell if anyone was snooping around. Which was, on the whole, a horrible thing to think: hanging around Sarita had surely warped Costanca's mind. It remained, however, that Costanca had wanted a fairly free conversation, especially considering the interaction they'd just had with Eluira and Diego.

It wasn't until they were deep within the pebbled pathways, along waist-high plants, that they stopped beside a tall, if stooped, tree. They sat down on a bench within the reach of its shadow. Costanca took out her fan -- the weather was warm enough that she had built up a sweat in her many-layered dress (and having several layers of fat she'd always found to be stifling) -- and waved it briskly towards her face. A handkerchief was brought out next, and delicately dabbed along her hairline and forehead. Silence built up between them as they each pretended to focus on the beauty around them, but it could only last for so long.

Costanca sighed. "I did as you asked of me."

Sarita flicked at one of the bracelets beneath her sleeve. It protected against magical eavesdropping, though it did nothing against the more mundane sort. Blocking that was nearly impossible, and those who could charm things against the travel of natural sound were about as expensive as magic could get.

"I don't recall asking you to make me look the part of a stuffed doe."

Costanca altered the angle of her fan: an entreaty. "Part of the price, my dear."

"A price for your fun? I hope you'll recall what we are aiming for."

"What you are aiming for. I am along to watch, while someone yet holds my lead. Consider it a reminder of what it is like to be a buffoon."

"It's hardly my fault that you've taken to the role with such abandon, dearest Anca."

"Need I remind you that everything that happens in our family is your fault?"

Sarita laughed. It was a deep laugh, a belly laugh that soared with volume and delight. Costanca's fan wavered as she watched her sister. Sarita's laughter was a rare thing -- a narrow-edged weapon in social settings and scarcely ever unleashed out of actual happiness in private. Which occasion this counted for, Costanca could not be sure. In any case, Sarita was always beautiful when she laughed, more than any of their sisters. It gave her the careless youth she'd never quite had, and made of her something unexpected, and charming. Costanca turned her fan so it hid half of her face, presenting neutrality once Sarita's mirth had lessened to a quiet chuckling.

"Oh do relax, Anca. The end forgives the means this once. I do beg you remember that Dona Eluira is above the level of petty nobility you interact with regularly. The reasons she might find me lacking are not the ones you doubtless sought to invent. It is why I strove to be so specific."

Costanca's smile was faint. "Do you think she knows?"

Sarita's expression cooled. "Not this soon, but she shall find out."

Costanca looked away from Sarita's face and the grounds men had toiled to make more beautiful than nature herself. She tilted her face up to the sky, thinking of Burgos and the cousins she'd yet to meet in open combat within the local court. A tiresome mess.

"You expected me to say what I said, didn't you?"

Sarita didn't answer.

"It was why you've chosen Senor Baltasar for me, isn't it?"

Sarita was still as a statue. She took her time replying. "Whatever happens, I pray you remember that Aunt Eluira is working toward the same goals."

"She's not likely to forgive you leaving free the keys to the kingdom whilst you tarried after me. Nor, I fear, will she approve of your solution to my problem."

"No."

Costanca snorted. To which question did Sarita answer? Or was she denying an answer altogether? For all Sarita schemed on Costanca's behalf, she couldn't help but feel that one day, sooner than later, she would lose her usefulness as a pawn. What then? To what end would poor Costanca Ana play towards? Something that relieved her boredom, she hoped. Something that would make the whole, unfashionable affair bearable. Maybe the day would come when she pushed Aluar out of Burgos entirely, and her wretched male cousins were set loose on some other goal. A goal Sarita had already set into motion. The very same thing that had likely been the cause of the security breach in Morveres.

"Was it worth it?"

It was Sarita's turn to smile. "No."

*

The day had cooled by the time they returned to the manor house itself. Dinner would be soon. Costanca and Sarita separated, each claiming their guest room and the luggage they'd brought. Costanca undressed slowly with the aid of her favorite lady's maid, Miata. Once done she stared at herself in the mirror, thinking that she had exceeded the limit of fashion with her weight, and knowing that it would be her cage for a long time. Possibly forever.

There was a crushing sense of self-doubt then as her eye dropped the length of her body in her undermost garments, critically noting each fold and bunch of fabric. Fat tangerine, Guiomar had said. Costanca's jaw bunched, and her face heated as she stared at her reflection. "Tonight I shall play the part of a fat plum."

There was a pause as Miata stopped moving, puzzled. "Dona?"

"The violet, Senora Miata. The violet."

The Marquesa went straight to her preferred afternoon study, positioned on the estate to catch the afternoon sunlight, and stood by that room's reading easel. In truth, reading the papers would be a formality: Eluira knew Sarita's peculiarities well enough to know she wouldn't make this kind of play on a bluff. She was the kind of woman who only ever seemed to play on a strong hand. Such thinking had its place, as did such caution, but it led to a certain predictability. Eluira set the papers in the easel's left-hand receptacle, and set the first paper in place. Still, Sarita did pick her playing partners well. Thinking back over the morning, Eluira tried to ascertain who had ended up ahead on points in that particular match.

On the face of things, an outside onlooker might have automatically said Eluira herself, but having the appearance of control over a situation was not the same as holding all the trumps - something Eluira knew well. If she was going to be honest with herself, and the Marquesa was scrupulously so, she would have to concede that, combined together, Costanca and Sarita had managed to pull ahead in the number of tricks played that match. It was reassuring that her successor made a habit of surrounding herself with people like Costanca. If Eluira was to permit herself an analogy from bullfighting, Costanca was the flashy red cape distracting the bull from Sarita's sword. Although it was not flattering, Eluira decided, to refer to herself as a bull. What did that make Diego, though, she wondered? A perverse smile spread across her face. The banderillero, of course. Running into danger just to show he could survive it, leaving a little token with the bull as a reminder oh his success.

The moment passed, though, as the papers before her demanded her attention. Shortly thereafter Jolant and Sabastia returned, both siblings offering the curt nods which indicated they had achieved their tasks. Sabastia handed over the papers Eluira needed. "Perfection, Sabastia. Thank you, Jolant. On days like this I am glad to have assistants as capable as yourselves. Sabastia, see to Diego. I know you Salvadorans. There is always another layer of intrigue there. Go, enjoy." Eluira was not sure how the straight-laced Sarita coped with Salvador and his graduates. The old man played his own little information gathering game, keeping his cards very close to his chest. Eluira suspected, was certain in fact, that Salvador reported directly to Pascual as he had to Pascual's father Fernanz before him. 'Retired' indeed. Eluira suspected the old meddler would only retire in death, and that moment didn't appear to be coming any time soon.

Personally, she enjoyed the game, and she had an understanding with the likes of Sabastia and Diego. It was a matter of convenience, really. The only way to keep information from Salvador would be to lock up all of his agents, and that would be an utter waste of talent. House Morua benefited from all these games, in Eluira's opinion, as it kept everyone so on their toes it made it much harder for external agents to get a foothold in Moruan interests. A pleasant side effect of such open arrangements was that Sabastia and his colleagues didn't need to be circumlocuitous when Salvador wanted to pass on a subtle message or warning to her.

Having received his instructions, Sabastia bowed and left, and Eluira nodded to Jolant, "Refreshments for both of us, dear. Coffee for me, this time, and whatever you are in the mood for. This promises to be a long afternoon." Jolante vanished for a short period to relay instructions to the attending maid in the corridor, then returned to stand watch by the windows. Not once in the history of the Pazo de Palancia had an assassin reached that deep within the estate, but Eluira was adamant that security measures only worked when at absolute efficiency. It was when people became complacent or tired that gaps in security arose.

While Eluira perused financial documents detailing the mathematics of betrayal, Sabastia found Diego in the library. House Morua's remover of obstacles, and Sabastia's senior, was reclined on a divan reading a dusty glossary on the Semerkhet trade language, quietly speaking the words to refresh and retrain his tongue for the plethora of consonants and shortened vowels. Verb conjugation would also require a thorough refreshing, with all the prefixes and suffixes and subtle alterations which so heavily altered meaning. Diego addressed Eluira's valet before he could speak "Ansuf, Sabastia, Mamec tellid?" The valet responded simply "I am well, but not inclined to assist in the language lessons. I am certain you can spare a moment from your studies, regarding the earlier matter?"

Diego placed the book on a sidetable and appraised Sabastia. He'd obviously continued to take his cues from Alvaro, preferring the 'austere and implacable' demeanour of Salvador's dour assistant to the old man's calculated showmanship. As Sabastia seemed to be waiting for Diego to respond, the assassin prompted "Of course. Don Salvador's reply?" Eluira's valet nodded "All is in order. He requests a favour, perhaps a social outing if your schedule permits it." Sabastia handed Diego a sheet of paper covered in numbers. "Something for a sunny day, perhaps early next month." Diego called to mind the upcoming calendar, and the date of next month's first Sunday "He does like a spot of falconry, so perhaps if time permits we can find a nice heron near the lake. I shall give you a reply this evening when your duties bring you my way. I trust all goes well at Palancia?"

Sabastia nodded again, but his eyes flicked when Diego's hands started signing a message. <Be aware. Thief in Morua. Bypasses magic. Disables wards.> "I am glad to hear that, Sabastia. Now, I know that the Marquesa relies upon you, so I will not keep you any further. I must also return to my studies. So much to remember, so very little time. You know how it is." Sabastia did indeed, and nodded one final time before quietly withdrawing.

Diego glanced at Salvador's message. He silently recited the poem, and started to mentally match words to numbers. There was a trick to it, a mnemonic habit of visualisation Salvador trained his pupils in. Like word-shaped pictures, Diego placed the transcriptions on the canvas in his mind, until the words formed a coherent message. The assassin smiled. Salvador had come through for him, and the price would not be so difficult to pay. A slight diversion when he reached the port, prior to boarding the ship. If, on leaving, he timed his journey correctly, he should be able to arrive at night, force an overnight stay prior to boarding, achieve the task, and continue on his way. Only one thing could improve the day any further. Diego just had to wait for the dark of night and Eluira's response to his more personal enquiry. She never let him know until the last minute. One of the many little ways she exerted control and domination over those in her circles of influence.

When evening rolled around, Diego was in a good mood. It had been a productive day, and the language lessons of his childhood had started to awaken once more as he had studied the grammaries and dictionaries in Eluira's library. Eventually, Diego was alerted by a maid that dinner was soon to be served, and would he be so kind as to prepare himself for when the next servant arrived to escort him to this evening's dining room? Diego nodded his acquiescence. Similar messages were delivered to Sarita and Costanca.

For this evening, Eluira had chosen the Ocean setting, a dinner room tastefully painted in a muted sea-green with hints of dark blue at the edges. Scenes of ships battling unlikely monstrosities were rendered in stuccoed panoramas around the room and blue velvet wall hangings framed the scenes so as not to make the room too cluttered with detail. Eluira herself had chosen a vibrant dress of sapphire blue layered with moss green contrasts and midnight blue trimming. Eluira would be the first there, standing by her seat, to greet her guests as they arrived.