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Aurelius’s eyes twinkled with mischief as the carriage came to a stop. The younger sister looked to have every bit of the family’s famous fire.
This should be fun.
“Welcome to Ardora, Your Excellency,” said Ms. Securia crisply, shaking his hand with a grip like a wolf’s jaw. “I am—”
“—Ramuna, darling,” he said, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Simply wonderful to see you. Paula and Cornel send their love. They’ve been asking about you ever since they heard of my appointment!”
It was an obvious lie. House Securia was pious beyond belief and held him, and the entire Savair clan, in utter contempt. And someone like Ramuna would know all about his own scandals. She wouldn’t let so trivial a thing as distance reduce her awareness of happenings back home.
Aurelius studied her while projecting utter innocence.
She was a worthy foe, parsing no flicker of confusion. “Indeed. Well, you have had a long journey. Allow me to show you to your quarters.”
Rather than taking him into the main building, Securia led him across the courtyard to an annex by the gate—the same height and style as the embassy proper, but around a tenth of the size. It was located next to the small stable, where the steeds were slurping gratefully at a copper trough. She opened the door to reveal...
Gods protect me!
The fashion in Mestibes was for the creamiest of marble, or at the very least, stone painted white with calcite or gypsum—“clean surfaces and a clean mind” was the oft-quoted aphorism.
And if that were true, then the minds of Ardora must be as rough as a farmer’s balls.
It was hideous. Worse than the saddest plebeian hovel. The walls were unpainted brick, the room furnished in dark, barely worked wood—as if bits of a tree had been dragged inside and whacked into place. There were no frescos, no hanging silks, no decoration of note anywhere. The only fabric was the faded linen over the windows.
Linen which, to Aurelius’s horror, was flapping.
“Welcome to your office, Your Excellency. Upstairs is your private quarters while you are staying with us.”
“There isno glass in the windows?” he said, mouth agape.
“No, Your Excellency.”
“Had I known you were this hard up, Ramuna, I would have asked the archon for an emergency stipend!”
“We want for nothing here but demand, Your Excellency. Ardorans do not live their lives caged up in their houses, keeping the sun and the rain at bay. They live out there, on the streets and in the parks, in the wondrous bounty that the goddess has gifted them.”
“But... your family made its fortune in glass. Your great-grandfather invented the stuff. You must have at least tried to introduce it down here?”
She cocked her head, like an inquisitive crow. “To what end? Ondocis buys more glass than Mestibes can produce. The wait is six years on some of the finer pieces. What need is there to bring it here as well?”
“Well, for one thing, a bit of finery might stop the natives eating out of dried mud and bits of old tree,” he said, noticing the drink tray—wooden cups around an awful earthenware jug.
“Your Excellency, your work is of course none of my business, just as mine is not yours—though I am sure we can work together productively to achieve mutually beneficial results for Mestibes. But whatever purpose the archon has seen fit to send you here for, I doubt it is some civilizing mission. In the very brief time you have been here, you may have judged Ardorans as backward and brutish, but they would consider us lazy and arrogant—too concerned with aesthetics to get our hands bloody or our feet dirty.”
Aurelius turned to make a snide remark but found only space behind him. “Where is Teigra?”
“I am sure Mr. Accola is showing Ms. Cosmin to her office.”
“Well, I am going to see—”
With the lightest of movements, the high envoy blocked the door. “Ms. Cosmin is not someone you need to concern yourself with during daylight hours, Your Excellency. She is my low envoy. Not yours.”
“I am going to see her,” he repeated.
“And I am sure she will make time for you this evening after all of her work has been completed.”
Aurelius glared at her. Finally, he smiled, ceding ground.
So that is the game? Well, no need to play my hand right away. Let her have this sad little victory.
