Interlude - She said what?

“She said what…?” the words came as though they had literally fallen from his lips.  De Havilland stared at a rather thoughtful Hemlock and an unsettling silence suddenly fell upon the room.

“That is what she claims, at least” followed Hemlock, “Although I am not really certain whether she is telling me the truth of the matter.”  De Havilland stood awestruck, the weight of the words gently pressing out from his mind as he began to search out all the possible implications of this latest revelation.

“I really didn’t expect that” he finally managed to answer.  “I know I asked her if she had any thoughts on the matter, but that was because I wanted to judge whether she knew a little more about the subject than she was letting on.  I mean, certainly when she left the room I thought that perhaps…”, De Havilland trailed off. 

“But do you actually believe her?” queries Hemlock, obviously keen to hear another person’s opinion on the matter.  De Havilland shifts uneasily and then starts to walk slowly around the room, his hand to his chin and his forefinger playing wistfully with his moustache.

“Certainly, I think I might” follows Hemlock as he watches De Havilland walking in wide circles.  “Obviously I know she’s a Decados and I have heard that they are not always to be trusted.  But to me, she just seems, well,…”  Hemlock frowns a little and tilts his head to one side, trying to find the right word.  De Havilland looks over sharply, searching out Hemlock; trying to determine his friend’s true feelings about this woman.

“Crooked?” comes a voice from the edge of the room, followed by a large clink and a rolling noise as Sir Mal takes his shot on the billiard table.  He raises himself from the table and carries on with his commentary, keen that his audience is entertained a little further.  “I mean, you can’t tell me you actually trust her?  I know I certainly don’t” he states, “She’s a Decados after all!”

Hemlock raises one eyebrow, “From what I have seen of her so far Sir Mal she seems very much the Lady and perfectly respectable.  Not everyone in my father’s estate has managed to fare quite so well so far…”  De Havilland grins at that and gives his cousin a knowing nod to suggest it was a ‘good hit, well landed’.  Mal harrumphs and continues, “Well if anyone is ever going to listen to me about anything then let me just say that I certainly know a rogue when I see one, and that woman is definitely trouble.”

“I think we can agree on that particular word”, continues Hemlock, “…for there is little doubt she brings trouble with her.  But what are we going to do about what she has said about her father?”

Finally De Havilland finds the words he has been looking for and moves over and leans onto the edge of the billiard table.  “Personally I’m not sure what to think.  My own judgement has been shown to be somewhat lacking of late and I’m not sure I trust my own thinking any more.  But I will share my thoughts with you both before I head off as not to do so would possibly be a little self-indulgent of me and possibly not very fair.”

De Havilland takes a moment to compose himself.  To the searching eyes of Hemlock he can see that his comrade is very much hurting with the betrayal of the Imperial Cohort, Tonbei.  Hemlock’s own mind immediately flashes back to memories of the loss of Dame Arcadia, and his own tortured feelings concerning her bitter end.

De Havilland looks down at the billiard table deep in thought.  “I have no clear mind whether she is telling the truth or not.  On the one side, she could indeed be telling the truth.  She could have wanted to find somewhere to run away and seek refuge from the torments of a father who had broken her in some way…”

Hemlock nods knowingly, thinking through the situation in his own mind.

“But…”, continues De Havilland, “…do you believe for one moment that of all the places she could have run to hide, to seek refuge from a man who is the preeminent leader of his family on this world that she would choose to pick your father’s barony?”  He looks up, the light from the billiard table now casting half of his face in shadow.

“Think on it Hemlock.  Why here.  Why you?” finished De Havilland.

“Me?” follows Hemlock, “You just said it yourself, she’s here as it is my Father’s barony, not for me.”

De Havilland shakes his head slightly as though trying to think through a fog.  “I just don’t see it Hemlock.  I could be wrong, and as I’ve said already tonight I tend to be making a good habit of it.  I think she wants to be near to you, or us all perhaps, but certainly here in Deepcore 104.”

The room went quiet as everyone started to turn their thoughts onto the dark paths of Decados politicking.  It was a dangerous game to try to twist your mind into a Decados plot; and generally often completely fruitless as well.

“What if she hasn’t left her father at all?  What if she’s here under his orders, working on one of his schemes?” De Havilland followed on.

Hemlock puffs out thoughtfully, “But why would she incriminate him like that?  That doesn’t make any sense at all?”

“I have absolutely no idea”, answered De Havilland, “But just imagine for one moment, that after sitting with us today she leaves, and rather than returning to her room to meditate and recuperate, she instead picks up some clever communications device she has hidden in her room and speaks with him, tells him everything she has just heard from us and he comes back with these very instructions.  For her to claim that he had paid this  Slayers Guild to execute Selwyn and a number of others on that list.”

“Well, if I’m honest that isn’t the question I really need answering though” jumps in Mal.  “I’d just really like to know what on Urth Hemlock thinks he’s wearing?”  Suddenly the room shifts focus, to look over at the Justinian at the head of the billiard table.  He looks down at himself, at the charcoal and scarlet jacket he has on.  The straps and buckles make him look slightly like a deranged spider.

“Ah…yes…I had quite forgotten about that” Hemlock responds, pulling a rather disgusted face and stretching his arms outward, sideways.  He clears his throat as though about to make an important announcement.  “Apparently this is my family’s ancestral duelling jacket.” 

Mal smirks unashamedly.  De Havilland chews his mouth, nervously.  The jacket wasn’t entirely a disgrace, it was just that Hemlock was somewhat smaller than its original occupant, and had insisted on putting it on by himself.  After finally asking for help, he found even the staff had forgotten how to secure it all, likely due to its age.  It was probably quite a sophisticated item in its day but in its current state it was likely to prove more of a hindrance than anything else.

“Its…its…” pondered De Havilland;  “An utter shambles” exasperated Hemlock.  “I am only wearing it now to prove how ridiculous it is.  How by The Pancreator would I ever be able to move around in it?”

Suddenly Mal shoots a gaze over at the doorway to the billiard room and in a matter of moments a figure emerges.  The member of household staff clears his throat.

“I know, I know, the time!” responds Hemlock.  He looks back over at De Havilland and the two share a gaze that suggests they both realise the peril they both face in the coming hours, days and perhaps weeks, if they manage to live that long.  Nothing more is said. 

Hemlock looks at them both and then leaves.

Once a quiet has settled on the room again De Havilland walks over to a corner and picks up a large travel bag and swings it over his left shoulder.  He gathers up a long coat and walks over to Mal.  De Havilland punches Mal on the arm playfully.  His cousin surprised him by punching him back forcefully in the gut.  Anton stares down at his stomach in shock but as he raises his eyes to meet Mal’s his mouth has spread to a broad grin.  He leans in to his cousin's ear and whispers to him.

“…I want you to keep one eye out for Hemlock, Mal.  A really good eye on him.  I don’t want you seen doing it though, so keep as much distance as you can as I fear there may be agents working in this place.”

“Right…”, pauses Sir Mal pulling away deliberately, “…and what would I be getting out of doing that then?”

De Havilland looked around the room quickly and then whispered in his cousin's ear again.  “You get three square meals a day Mal, and the chance to try your skills against a very worthy adversary.  Plus you might actually earn the respect of some very worthy people.”

Mal didn’t look all that impressed so far.  He had only spent a little time with his cousin over the last few weeks and noted that those around him all seemed to be in some form of danger at the moment; either that or actually dead.  The omens were not looking all that good for him, presently.

“Yeah, I’m still not seeing why I should.” he responded.  De Havilland rolled his eyes, obviously keen to be getting going on his way to the transporter awaiting him, and he was bitterly missing having someone around that he could issue a direct order to.  But then look how that one had ended.  “Mal, just make sure you see he’s safe until I return.  That’s not too much to ask of you is it?  I mean you do think you might actually be capable of managing that?”

Mal thought it over.  He now felt as though he didn’t want his cousin to think of him as completely useless.  Too many people were judging him as such at the moment.  Perhaps this moment was an opportunity to show some talent.  He gave a heavy and laboured sigh “Alright Anton, I’ll do it.  What about Hasimir though, you want me to do the same with him?”

De Havilland shook his head slightly, “No, you are to keep out of his way unless he makes an attempt to contact either you or Sir Hemlock. Hasimir is in a dangerous place right now.  I trust him to manage that as best as anyone can.  You being about is going to cause him more trouble than he needs right now.  No, keep out of his way but make yourself available if he asks for help.  Do you think you can manage that?”

Mal nodded.  He felt sure that was well within his powers, and actually slightly less interesting than he now felt he would have liked.  Actually, as he thought about it, he could really do with something a bit more interesting to do whilst De Havilland swanned off to Suryada to do whatever it was he was up to.  He blurted out, “So no real secret missions for me then?  I actually do feel slightly left out at the moment to be honest, especially if you are leaving me here alone.”

De Havilland smiled and started to walk towards the door of the room.  He stopped abruptly, turns and is about to speak when he suddenly appears to reconsider things, shakes his head, says “nah….” and walks out.  Mal is left standing there pondering what might have been.  Half of him says not to worry about it and to find himself another drink somewhere and another part of him sends prickles down his back at the prospect of another coup being pulled off.

Half an hour later The Marquis makes his way to a safe area just outside of the take-off pad of the Explorer craft.  The engines are running on the transport in preparation and he can see Sir Mal making his way over through the haze of the engine jetwash.  He pretends not to notice and hands his bag over to the pilot, but waits patiently for Mal to arrive.  His cousin walks up to him and looks at him indignantly.  He has to shout over the noise of the engine but the message is clear, “Okay Anton, spit it out.  What do you really want?”

They lean over to one side of the pad but have to shout into each other's ears to be heard.

“Mal, I want you to find someone here who is an expert on local communications who understands the normal chatter.  Maybe it’s that Scraver guy we met yesterday, or maybe it’s someone else.  I want you to find out if there have been any unusual new transmissions taking place recently.  Take as much time as you need to determine if that is happening and then I want you to see if you can work out where these communications are coming from and who they are going to.  If you find something interesting and you have time you may just be lucky enough to crack one…”

Mal looked at his cousin carefully, weighing up this request.  On the face of it, it sounded simple enough.  However the scale of the task was unknown, and the outcome completely unpredictable.  It could even potentially be quite dangerous, nosing around like that was never a good idea. If he ever got found out he could be in trouble;  Even more trouble than usual.