Three games later, Peter was impaled by a large dart. The object of Simpering Buttercock was to throw your massive dart towards a randomly assigned target. In itself, this wasn’t so bad. Unfortunately, failing to stand next to your dart while the others took their turns was an immediate disqualification, and Peter had lost sight of someone’s dart.
Laying there with a dart tip protruding from his left armpit and firmly holding the shaft steady despite attempts to remove it, Peter listened to the argument taking place over his head. Finally, he heard something hopeful.
“That little enchantress is about, I believe, rumour is she has some healing abilities,” someone was saying.
“Then send for her,” Marla shouted in their face.
“You’re holding up the game!” someone shouted.
Not a minute later, Celery was there at his side and Egbert was forcibly backing the crowd away. “It might interest you to know that this dart was guided by magic,” she whispered in his ear. “Do you have your stone on you?”
“Yes, but I’m hardly going to cheat.”
“Is it cheating to interfere with the attempts of others to cheat?”
“Maybe.”
“Why aren’t you talking to people directly?”
“One on one is fine, but in groups I’m more likely to be exposed if everyone hears me speaking in a different language.”
“Take that one off and try this one, then,” she said, slipping a different pendant around his neck as she peeled back clothes. “Okay, I’m ready for that to come out now.”
Peter had to wiggle his shoulder around a bit to stop the bones from pinching on the point, but he pulled it out himself. Celery immediately put a hand over the exit and entry wounds, healing him. It wasn’t as forceful as Honeyhip’s healing, but it felt complete.
“Hey, you’re not allowed to move my dart!”
Peter stood up, stretched as tall as he could, and put the dart through the foot of the fool player objecting to his removing a foreign object from his own body. Looking around at the silent crowd staring at him, he said “shall we resume the game?”
There was, unfortunately, a brief pause while Celery proceeded to heel the man’s foot.
“I’m sticking around,” she said quietly to Peter as everyone returned to their places. “If I figure out who is cheating, I’ll find a way to let you know.”
The game proceeded somberly, with the others obviously trying to let him win and Peter trying to lose. The result was a game drawn out for another hour or so and the cancellation of any other planned activities. Soon enough, the three of them were on their way back to the guard barracks, despite a castellan insisting there was a suite available for them to use the remainder of their stay in the Capital.
“Was leaving the Palace rude?” He asked Marla while they walked.
“A little, but the accident is justification enough. The offer may have been an attempt to compensate you.”
“Celery said it wasn’t an accident, that the dart was going where someone using magic wanted.”
“Even better reason not to be staying in the Palace, then,” Marla answered.
“Most of those present are important enough to be difficult to take into custody,” Egbert warned.
“I hadn’t been about to suggest it,” Peter replied. “Celery was trying to figure out who was using magic to cheat, but never mentioned it again after.”
“Why did you start talking normally after?” Marla asked.
“Oh, sorry for that. Celery swapped my translation stone for one that should only have me speaking in one language to those listening. Which reminds, me, I should switch back.” Peter pulled the original out of his pocket and put it back around his neck.
“Well, it seems to have been successful. Did we learn anything today?” Marla asked.
“I learned to pay attention when playing a giant game of darts where you’re standing on the board.”
“Ha ha, very funny. I meant something to help us get you home.” Marla clarified.
“I didn’t, no,” Peter answered.
“The other guests are happy to play games for the emperor, but their staff talk of how frustrated they are that nothing is getting done. They are all here for some reason important to them, like Peter. I didn’t hear anyone mention why nothing was happening, though,” Egbert said.
“I overheard a story of someone pining for a lover who was sent on a mission to the northwest, but an earthquake triggered landslides which resulted in flooding and communication has been cut off. Strange it isn’t talked about in the city more, but maybe it’s old news.” Marla shared.
“Maybe the Sky Turtle can carry a messenger?” Peter suggested.
“The objective should have been completed weeks ago, so maybe we could just pick up this lover and return her quickly while the rest of the expedition waits for safe travel back,” Marla countered.
“I think it a bit unlikely our airship would be seen as a safer mode of travel. It’s not proven and there are too few people on board,” Egbert said.
“I was just hoping to get out of this city,” Peter admitted.
“We have an idea of what is distracting one member of the council, but there are others whose attentions are elsewhere,” Marla said.
“I didn’t hear anything specific to that,” Egbert said.
“I did, though,” Celery said, falling in to walk beside them.
“Who are you?” Egbert asked. “Besides the one who healed my charge earlier.”
“Celery. I met Peter and Marla earlier. His story is interesting enough I’d like to help. There is the man whose lover informed him she is pregnant in the last letter before an earthquake cut off communication with her trade expedition, another who spends most of his time gambling and trying to hide the money he embezzles to pay his debts, and a woman who decided to write a book of fiction and is too caught up in it to pay attention to reality. We have one with a drug habit, one whose wife is having an affair, one with a sick child no healer in the city has been able to help, and … I haven’t quite worked out the seventh. Very odd behaviour. Just about everything needs to be approved by one or more of these seven.”
“We could take the first in the Sky Turtle to fetch his expectant lover. I’m no healer, but I might know something relevant; otherwise maybe we could track down a healer who might be able to help the sixth. The second, well, we could expose him or blackmail him, but the goal is to get everything moving again, not just my petition. Our options for number three are threaten, expose, or help. We could get the fourth clean, I guess. I’m a poor choice for a marriage counsellor, but I might be able to negotiate something to get the fifth back to work. The only thing I can think of for the seventh is to abduct them and interrogate them, which isn’t an ideal course of action. If your system runs anything like the one I’m used to, a better option for most of these is to go to those who elected them and point out their representative has become useless and should be replaced. Or to whoever put them in charge of whatever it is they do.”
“I don’t know how things work where you come from, but I don’t understand how you arrived at all that so quickly,” Marla said.
“Don’t worry, I don’t know either,” Peter replied.
“Well, I have to run home. Maybe I’ll come back to discuss this further?” Celery said.
“Maybe,” Peter said.
Once inside, Marla and Egbert went off to do their own things and Peter crawled into his bunk to rest.
“Peter, there are three messengers out here and none of them wanted to disturb you,” Marla said, pulling aside his bed’s curtain.
Groaning and rubbing his eyes, Peter realized he had dozed off. It shouldn’t have been surprising. “Okay, I’m coming.”
“The emperor would like you to reconsider his offer of an apartment in the palace,” said the first, handing him a sealed letter.
“You have offended the Honourable Dink Dibbler’s honour. He demands you face him in a duel of swords tomorrow at noon,” said the second, handing him another sealed envelope.
“Lady Patella invites you to evening tea,” said the third, handing him yet another sealed envelope.
Peter handed all three to Marla, who opened and scanned them. “I don’t think the emperor is going to give up on us staying in the palace. This Dink Dibbler looks more interested in image than anything else, but he specified that you have the choice of sword type. Lucky you only have one to choose from. I’m not sure who Lady Patella is, but there is no reason to refuse.”
“I will arrange to have my things brought to the palace in the morning, where I will deal with Dibbler. Of course I’ll go to tea with the Lady Patella. When and where?”
Marla dealt with the replies, and the messengers all left.
“I’ve heard of afternoon tea, but evening tea?”
“It’s usually reserved for those who are courting,” Marla elaborated.
“You couldn’t have mentioned that before I agreed to it?”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Betrothed?”
“No.”
“On what grounds would you turn the woman down?”
“We haven’t met?”
“Irrelevant in the palace circles, unfortunately. Besides, she likely just wants to gossip or to be able to say she has entertained you.”
“Do I have an appropriate shirt? This one isn’t doing very well.”
“I’m sure we can find something. We have a few hours.”
“I was hoping to use those hours to recover from this afternoon. Or maybe make contact with Barnabas.”
“You still can. I’ll deal with your shirt, take it off.”
“Am I expected to attend Lady Patella alone?” Peter asked, made difficult by removing his shirt at the same time.
“Not exactly. Usually, you would arrive with an attendant who waits in a room with other servants. I might be able to learn something from them, so I’ll accompany you.”
“Seems a bit backwards, the big man bringing a tiny woman as a servant on an evening outing.”
“Not too unusual, though.”
“You know far better than I do.”
“Exactly.” Marla left with his shirt, so Peter returned to his bunk.
Minutes later someone quietly entered the little room. “Interested in another magic lesson?” Celery asked.
“I may not have time, really. I’m having evening tea with Lady Patella.”
“Oh, scandalous.”
“How so?”
“Lady Patella is the adulterous wife I mentioned.”
“Seriously?”
“Unfortunately.”
“That complicates things significantly, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe not. You can worry about that later, though. That lesson?”
Forgetting his lack of shirt, Peter rolled out of bed and sat at his little table.
“That’s a lot of scars,” Celery said.
“None are as old as this translation stone,” Peter replied.
“Really? Strange.”
“My time here hasn’t been the safest.”
“True. Shall we begin?”
Peter shrugged and waited.
When Marla returned with his shirt mended and laundered, she found him experimenting with a new enchanted stone from Celery. “Here,” she said offering him his shirt.
Pulling it on, Peter heard Celery say “oh, I was enjoying that.” When his head emerged, he couldn’t figure out what she was referring to.
It was time to leave already, so Marla chased off Celery and led Peter out to a modest house near the palace.
“Celery told me this is the adulterous wife we’ve heard of.”
“Oh, that might make this easy, then.”
“What?”
“Figuring out what is going on.”
“Makes sense.”
When the door opened, Peter was ushered into a room directly to the right, while Marla was directed through a door to the left. The room was dimly lit with curtains drawn and a fire in the hearth. The curtains were a dark red and purple floral pattern, the floor covered in red carpet and the walls painted the dark purple. Two upholstered armchairs sat by the fire, with candles on the table between.
“The bizarre foreigner,” greeted the woman sitting in the left chair.
“The mysterious lady,” he replied, bowing and reaching for her hand. She allowed him to take it, so he kissed it and sat.
“That was quite the game of Strawberry Bunghole this afternoon,” she said.
“You were there?”
“I was watching from a window.”
“Did you see the farce that was Simpering Buttercock?”
“Not all of it, but I did see you pin Dink’s foot to the ground.”
“He was complaining that I removed his dart from my shoulder so that I could be healed.”
“He isn’t the brightest, you know.”
“He challenged me to a sword duel tomorrow at noon.”
“He’s not bright, but he’s a decent swordsman.”
“I doubt he has even held a sword like mine.”
“He gave you the choice?”
“Yes.”
“This could be quite the spectacle.”
“Maybe. I did wrestle a dragon a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, this will be good.”
“Doesn’t tea usually involve tea?”
“Yes, I seem to have forgotten that. Silly me.” Lady Patella rang a bell. A teenage girl poked her head in, nodded, and left. “My husband is starting to get suspicious, spending his days worrying and imagining unspeakable things. Makes my job easier, to be honest, but it is getting annoying. I’ve been cleaning up his messes since we met. I’m not sure what made him notice, but he finally did a month or so ago.”
“Oh, uh, this topic of conversation is a little unexpected. What sort of messes?”
“He doesn’t do well with subtlety and social niceties. I smooth ruffled feathers when he isn’t looking. Arrange bribes, apology gifts, and additional agreements.”
“Thankless work, I imagine.”
“Yes. Now he’s gone and noticed that I’m doing something, but his assumptions are wild.”
“Yes, annoying.”
“Not to mention hypocritical. His paranoia over his own indiscretions has tainted his reasoning. After I quietly arranged for three young women to move elsewhere and raise his illegitimate children out of sight.”
“And that didn’t bother you?”
“It was to be expected. But I will not have my reputation tarnished. At least, not if I haven’t actually done the thing I’m accused of.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“The way I see it, I can tell him the truth, reveal all my efforts on his behalf, or I can have some fun of my own and worry about consequences later.”
“And you’re telling me this because?”
“I thought you would be ideal.”
“For what?”
“That’s cute?”
“I’m lost. Confused.”
“I’m not going to say it out loud.”
“I’m afraid you won’t get anywhere, then.”
“Well, this is awkward.”
“Yup.”
They sat in silence and finished their tea.