Chương 200: Chapter 221: Resolution 4456.7, ergo Resolution 201.8

7, ergo Resolution 201. 8 This is the noisiest Sixthday morning we've had in ages. Shouting and laughing carry all about, girls with suitcases bustle in the halls and bang into each other. Even the ones that aren't going far are eager to get out of here. Vancy and Larianne among them, they're both leaving the dorms over the break. Larianne casually mentioned she's going to be staying with a different family member every night for two weeks. The Ebonder family is very close-knit.

Vancy is going to get herself a room at one of the local hotel inns and while she said she's going to sleep continuously for that time I am pretty sure she's got a few boyfriends she'll spend time with. I won't assume much more than that. Elica is staying in the dorms. She's still very aware of unnecessary expenses. She wants to live lavishly in public to impress people, but she's started cutting costs on personal comforts. She nearly lost everything, and she's gun-shy about red ink.

She's going to have a hard time, I don't think Rinnie even stopped by to say goodbye before she got out of here. Well, this will give us time to move. I checked with the dean of student affairs, and we're cleared to move into Lachel's old room. I think it's a little ghoulish, Elica is thrilled that she is officially the (tied for) highest ranked noble on our floor. That means she's winning, in whatever game she's playing in her own head. Later when the way is clear and empty I'm going to move our things.

What's the point of having magic if you can't bibbidi-bobidi-boo things around to make chores easier? And in the meantime, I am getting dressed down and heading out. I gave my roommate a wave and told her I'd see her later to move our things, and then I tipped into a portal and vanished away. First order of business: close to home. I stepped straight into the foyer instead of knocking on the door. The main Harigold residence in Hearstcliff, maintained by the family bank and trust.

Petunia's heavy coat was hung next to the door, as well as Bruce's outdoor walking stick. I set down my bag next to them, a small duffel filled with cloth-wrapped clay tablets. I have been making an effort not to leave as many things in my pocket dimension these days, I don't like the way it weighs on my void affinity. I had been tuning it out, but that treasure haul from the mathematicians' tombs had really put it in sharp relief. The snooty valet and I shared a silent glare as I walked past.

He and I have never been on good terms. The last time I saw him, I forcefully intimidated him into restraining the extremely overdone accent he has been affecting. His lips thinned with irritation, and he didn't have much to start with. He did not offer to lead me to my party, he just stood by, disapproving, and I walked past him, disapproving. It's good to have simple, reliable, understandable relationships with some people. The cousins were sat down to breakfast when I strolled in.

The dark-wood sliding doors rolled open before me and closed behind me, with only a flick of my fingers.

"Morning!" I chirped, collapsing into a deeply-cushioned chair.

"It's good to see you two."

"What in hells are you wearing?" Bruce was aghast.

"They're called jeans. And they're divine."

"How are they fitted so tightly?" Petunia asked, leaning to the side and staring under the table.

"Not tailored, surely. If any tailor has your measurements that closely, you'd better have married him first." I chuckled.

"I made them with magic, and I know my own measurements. Now when-""How do you even get in those?" Bruce asked.

"Scotch and water. Can we please discuss something besides my pants?"

"Like that top?" Petunia arched an eyebrow.

"Must we?" I said, annoyed now. Look, I'm not wearing anything extreme. My boots, some jeans, a poet shirt, and my bracers. Silver combs in my hair and a bra taking the place of my usual bodice. I wanted to feel comfortable. That should not be so much to ask. The cook brought in breakfast on a cart, and she didn't seem to have an issue with what I was wearing. Lots of tradesmen wear jeans and boots! Platters were distributed, portions were cut, servings were shared out.

Bruce was starting early with wine, Petty and I took tea. The kitchen door clicked shut, and I used some toast to sop up my sunny-side-up.

"I've brought good news for both of you," I said.

"Unexpected good news, at that. I am typically not good at investigations. It's just not one of my strengths. But Bruce, I'm pretty close to the poisoner. Enough that I can give a time and a place. Enough that I can make you those promises you didn't want to hear." His knuckles whitened around his knife.

"Good. I will want to see."

"Wouldn't have it any other way. And Petty, I've got a good break on the Cerulean Circus case. It's a bit oblique, but I think I've found part of the organization that you're looking for. A loose end that won't be so easily clipped as the last one."

"Specifics?" I gave her the name, and she recognized it. She nodded, grimly.

"But I promise, I did not come here just to talk about vengeance and justice," I said.

"I struggle with ordinary things. I need to find a -" I cut myself off. I could feel myself going off rails.

"What I mean is, do either of you have any interest in watching a fencing tournament? There's someone I want you to to meet. The-""Oh, someone special?" Bruce drew it out, taunting me.

"Someone I trust," I said firmly.

"I trust her, and I trust you both. So I want you to meet each other. And, I want to just do things with you both. Normal things, like cheering for a tournament. Having breakfast. I know that I'm busy, all the time, but making time for people starts with paying attention, and I need to start. You are both owed more than that." Petunia pointed at me with a fork, sighting down it like a crossbow, with half a link sausage pinned on its tines.

"Owed is a strong word, and we don't need it bandied about at this table. When you talk about people being obligated to each other, you take the choice away. You can either choose us, or owe us." The sausage went into her mouth and she chewed like she was angry at food.

"I would rather choose you," I said quickly, surprising myself a little.

"I owe too much to too many, and I want this to be different."

"Good," Bruce said, wry and dry.

"You've been holding on by your fingernails lately, and it shows. You will be the one and only Princess Natalie esquire, but you're still Harigold, and I've never met a Harigold that did not need family, yours truly included. We are a strong people, but not an independent people."

"I think I forgot that those aren't the same thing," I winced.

"Family has been difficult, lately." Petunia scoffed again.

"Bah. You had a fight with your parents. And your brother... well, I'm not sure what his deal is but he's a menace in any case. So that's three. There's a reason that a House like this is not consolidated in one family. Be a damn shame if a fight with your parents was enough to take someone away from all of us."

"Thanks." Bruce set down his fork, giving me every ounce of his attention.

"I find that tournament fencing is an odious experience. I think that its roots as a form of deadly combat is barbaric and unseemly. I think that binding it in forms and rules does not change that. But using it as a competitive game makes light of its bloodthirsty nature. It both diminishes itself, and propagates itself. I would be happy to, when is the event?"

"Next week, I'll leave a card with the details." Not all family is equal. We know that. There are some, everything you could ever want. For a while I thought I had those. There are the ones that would hold a child at arm's length and never say why. There are some that are good friends or passing acquaintances. Some are bonded so tightly that even hate only brings us closer together.

There are the ones that will pick you up when you are down and never question it, some that would defy their own principles just to keep you company. And some find you in the darkness. I had that once, and let it slip away. But he found me once, it's my turn to find him. I was still wearing jeans and trapsetter boots when I walked into the shop.

Surprisingly this was not the ritzy glitzy neighborhoods of Cliffside, though it was in such a nice part of Skyside that it would sometimes get real sunlight in through the cave mouth. I could respect the forethought, it was right next to the highest concentration of town guard, the barracks by the checkpoints gates. It was easily accessible, not excessively expensive land, and heavily patrolled and protected. Good assets for a place that offers such very expensive and very portable merchandise.

The proprietor looked up with an instant twist of suspicion but it fell off a second later. White hair and liver spots, but a strong jaw and nimble fingers. It's for the best that he has a suspicious nature, and I'm glad that he recognized me. Even in jeans and a blouse I'm visually distinct enough that I could be easily recognized by anyone familiar with the local society scene.

"I have friends that know a lot about every jewelry store in the city," I said.

"Experts in the field, you might say. If shopping for luxury goods were a craft they'd be named as masters of it. And in their well-informed opinions, this came from your shop." I held out a distinctive and unique piece, citrine and ruby. The shop had an interesting reaction in my sorcerous senses, as most do. I've a perfect affinity for gold, silver, corundum, and and quartz. They are picked out in my senses. And for most other materials I have at least a partial affinity or an indirect affinity.

Even before I started picking up jade, I could still sense it as a form of stone. But jewelry stores give me stars and constellations of blank space, the sort of blank space I normally get from other people. Diamond has no affinity, its essence does not bend or chip or commingle with another. Diamond essence cannot be gathered or learned or summoned. Diamond is inviolable. And in my senses, is is pinpricks in the fabric of the world, tiny faceted blank spaces.

"Ah. Yes, one of mine," he said.

"Very particular work, and on a budget."

"The man who ordered this?"

"Hmm. Well, miss, I don't keep ledgers of my clients-""I've been told an appropriate finder's fee for this sort of work is-" I started to interrupt him before he interrupted me back.

"-As I was saying, milady, I do not keep those records here in the shop. Anything more than a year old goes into my attic, at home. I'll pull down the ladder after I've closed shop for the day. Come back another day and I'll have some news for you. Regular business hours please."

"Thank you," I said, pushing my hands into my pockets. I was a little ashamed at how fast I jumped to trying to bribe this man without even letting him finish explaining.

"I do feel I should give something for your trouble."

"Milady, twice in my life has someone coming to my shop to trace jewelry like that. Two lovers separated for years, I was able to reunite. A young man finally found his father's name and a family he never knew he had. I did not think this would happen again before I retired. If you want to give me something, then let me have this." Well, I could never argue with that. I put the citrine grapefruit pendant back around my throat and clasped it.

If that goddamned Inquisitor Pina can come back into my life, then so can Gedes. My next stop is going to be fun. In a gleeful, well-earned-spite kind of way. One of my absolute favorites. I hope I never have to choose between chocolate and watching some jerk flinch when they realize that they're about to get their comeuppance. This meeting is one of the reasons I'm dressed down today. Not quite as much as last time I was here, but enough to offend his acerbic aesthetics.

He is richly appointed and keenly aware of his importance and he is not accustomed to being called to his office on a Sixthday afternoon. There are only a handful of people that can put enough pressure on to make that happen, and one of those is Natalie Harigold. Last time I had stains, mud, sweat, and an owl. I had made such a terrible impression. I'm going to make him hate me even more today. I can't wait. The trick to kicking a door open in dramatic fashion is for it to be unlatched when your foot hits.

If you twist the handlatch just enough to take the bolt off the strike plate, and nudge it just a millimeter so it props there, you can get that awesome kick. I accomplish this with magic: I move the bolt back myself and then kick. That way you don't actually have to rip the bolt through the doorjamb just to make a point. And just like last time, he jumped a foot in the air when the door slammed open and banged against the wall. I strode in with a huge beaming grin.

"Good day guv'nah!" I smirked, as I walked in and dropped myself into the chair opposite him. Just a little callback to last time. I'll probably never do that again. The 'guvnah' thing just isn't me. I set down my duffel, careful not to clink the tablets inside. Last time we did this, he jumped because he was startled, today he's jumping because he's scared. Last time, I had to scrape for favors to get a five-minute interview on his schedule on his terms.

That was just a few months ago, and he had been secure in his influential position, enough to come at me very highhandedly. There was no scraping or begging this time, I had told his superiors when I wanted him to be ready for me, and they yanked his leash hard enough for him to feel it. This is one of those moments that really highlights how my fortunes have changed. The corruption of Hearstcliff is a wheel, and I'm not underneath it any more. I steepled my fingers and looked at him over the top of my fingertips.

"So, last time I was here we had a wonderfully productive discussion. I had negotiated with a duke as a personal favor to have him order you to set aside five minutes for a chat with me. You decided to cut it short and make a liar of him, because your job is so fucking important." Back then, he had enough clout to burn it on stupid games like that. Today the clout is in my hands. I'm recognized everywhere in this building.

I made sure he knew I was coming, and I made sure he understood that this was not going to be good for him. Still, credit where it's due, the man's got nerve even under pressure.

"Yes I was there," he sneered. The ever-acerbic Ediscod, he of the pinched face and bad manners. He turned over a five-minute timer on his desk, the sand running from top bulb to bottom.

"So what do the provinces want today?" His hands trembled, but he was working hard not to flinch in front of me, his pride was forcing him to act brave. I backhanded the small hourglass and it shattered against the wall, smashing it to splinters and a spray of loose sand. His hand lunged for a bell-rope in the corner, and yanked it hard, summoning the guards from the honor posting just outside the door. We could both hear the bell clang. He was in distress and needed rescue.

The bell that existed only to bring strong men running had just been activated. I stared at his eyes, he stared at the door. There was a long quiet moment, a pause while we listened. Someone out in the hallway coughed twice. I grabbed the front of Ediscod's robes and shoved him back, slamming him into his chair and rolling back until his chair hit the wall.

"The first thing that I want," I said, in a nice low tone, "is for you to recognize what your fucking place here really is. You're a shiny cog. The only power you have is the strength of the cog above you, and the pressure you put on the cogs below you. And you've let yourself believe this makes you invulnerable." This was the part where he's about to yell for help, obviously. The bell-rope is his Plan A, and it takes a few seconds to switch gears.

A pause in a speech pattern is a natural place for the brain to switch gears, so this is when he rolls to Plan B. Shouting. Very basic psychology. So obviously that was the precise moment that I froze the air in his larynx. He tried to bellow out for help, and he got no sound. He also got no breath- he was now choking slowly. The panic set in, he clawed at his throat.

"But I'm not done," I purred, stalking around the desk. He was bent at the waist, holding his neck in both hands, fruitlessly trying to cough out congealed air that clung to his vocal cords. I grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the chair back, forcing him to look back up at me.

"Because you're also the shiny cog that abraded off the ink from Resolution 4456. 7 so you could substitute a different bank account number and redirect the entire annual budget of the mortar-layers for the royal palace into your own personal pockets. Now sure. the king would be quite affronted to find out that you've compromised the integrity of the defensive wards on his home. But absolutely everyone would go berserk if they realized you were doctoring proposals before submission.

They've gotten used to you slow-rolling a project or misplacing some paperwork and giving favorable treatment to one source over another. Honestly that's just your role in this machine, to put your thumb on the scale. Someone gives you orders and you see them out, manipulating the legislative process to make sure the right people are happy. To hell with the integrity of the process, right?

But you know damned well that sneaking in here and changing the paperwork handed to you by the High Council to profit yourself is different. They'd audit everything. Hanging would be the kindest death they would consider for you." His face was absolute horror. Yeah, delivering a well-earned comeuppance really is as good as chocolate.

I think he understood exactly how pissed off, and how powerful, his enemies would be if I just told them to dig out resolution four-four-five-six-point- seven, and compare the bank routing numbers. The last time I was in this office, I held my ring over his desk while my owl watched from above. Looking through my ring, down at the worktop of his desk. And that set the Signet of the Seer's observation point. And for months I've been looking back through it to watch his every move. A normal amount of blackmail.

The coin was the final nail. I could just set it to spinning and have it stop if Ediscod was doing something blackmailable. With my invisible remote camera and my perfect timing, I could get the information I needed. And while I have seen a breathtaking amount of mismanagement and corruption on his desk, there was only one time he looked like he was scared of getting caught. Extorting bribes or stealing a pay marker is one thing, that's the stuff everyone expects.

But if he's altering the resolutions, that means that he is in charge of the Council and not the other way around, he controls what they vote on and whether it succeeds. That's where he fucked up. If they find out what he did, they will feel less powerful. These are people that will burn cities down to feel powerful. If they find out that he's been subverting their power so they work for him instead of him working for them? They would get creative. I released his throat and let him breathe.

"You can't do this, you can't do this-" he was panting and bleating.

"Fuck you," I replied gleefully.

"Now, here's the best news you're going to get all day. You can pay for your sins with one easy favor. Rather than having me leaning on you heavily for a few years, you just do one thing for me, and we're all square. Until the next time I need something." He was still heaving for breath, out of shape. And his glare was pure acid.

"What do you want," he sneered. Ah. This is the part where he understands his position. He was brought here on his day off and abandoned to do me a favor. He has no leverage and no escape hatch, and no position to negotiate. All he has left is resentment.

"Resolution 201. 8," I said.

"Scheduled to a special legislative session, midnight, the ninth of Summerhigh."

"What?" He was probably expecting me to demand something extravagant or that he enter some piece of legislation that would crown me queen or whatever. Naïve, that would never work. But no. All he had to do was take one piece of paper that has been sitting on a shelf waiting to be scheduled, and schedule it. A bill that was proposed decades, no, generations ago. And schedule it so that it would go to a special session of the High Council the day that the Rapier Revolt breaks out.

This is one of my big ace-in-the-hole moves. I'm going to need several more if I'm going to take over this coalition and win this revolt. Right now I've got a ton of clout. I have stared down the king, I can dictate terms at Fashion Week, the High Council convened a midnight session to formally clear me of murder charges without me explicitly asking for that. I'm in a powerful position, and power like that needs to be used. Today, that means crushing a self-important bureaucrat.

I stood over him while he pulled out the page, stamped it, sealed it, scheduled it, and handed it off to the council runner on duty. And when that was done, I finally washed my hands of him and portaled away. Now I just need to wait for everyone to forget about this so they can't stop it when the time comes.