You wouldn’t think a mask could look so horrified. “Oh, never mind. Sit down,” said Hartley.
The bird-man sat. He landed with a thud, as though air had been let out. “I’ve come with important information.”
“I was sure you had,” said Hartley, smiling with all friendliness. “I hope you’re not going to share it right away. That would take all the artifice out of the thing—it would be too much like real life, then, and who would be interested?”
Two brown eyes stared at him blankly. Hartley sighed. “Well, if you insist. Tell me, what is your important information? I’m all eagerness.”
He turned a face of polite expectancy to the bird-man, who seemed taken aback.
“I don’t … I wasn’t planning …” The bird-man coughed. He got hold of himself. “Officer Quince,” he began daringly, with a glare through the slits as though challenging his companion to stop him from using names.
“Oh, call me Hartley, please.”
Another wipe of the lips. “I didn’t mean that I have information now, dammit! I meant that I could easily, in the future … what I mean is, I could place myself at Opal’s disposal. If you see what I mean, sir.”
Hartley smiled, angelically this time, and left off tormenting him. “I do see, and you would be most welcome.”
“I would?” This took him by surprise. “We haven’t spoken of money.”
“Oh, don’t let’s talk of it. I don’t doubt that whatever you think is fair would be just compensation for one such as yourself, who places himself in danger for the good of all.”
The mask examined him through sideways eyes, but Hartley’s voice was entirely sincere. “Danger. Er, yes. You see, I can’t reveal my identity …”
“Certainly not,” interrupted Hartley. “Why put your destiny in the hands of those who may lack your moral stamina?”
After a puzzled silence, the masked man said, “Um, yes. Exactly.”
With a smile of all sweet accord, Hartley said, “Well, run along, then.”
“Run along? I, uh …”
“You’ve placed yourself at our disposal. We’re happy to accept. Don’t want to keep you up late.”
The bird-man rose to his feet uncertainly. “But shouldn’t we … I don’t know …”
“Come here again on Saint Jean’s Day, and I’ll have a token of our esteem. And you can tell me how many more tokens you’d like.”
“Oh.” He took a few steps away, then turned back.
Hartley waved. “Well-met, we must do it again.”
The bird-man spy walked away, his red crepe streamers lifting behind him in the air. His shoulders were hunched and he seemed to be thinking hard.
Well, thought Hartley, that was mildly entertaining. Would Lord Muir ever find Harry a place in the administration? Hartley had known that Harry Muir hated his father, but he hadn’t known it was deep enough hatred for treason as spite.
Heigh-ho. Time to get back to his quarters, where a lovely girl was waiting who would require a lengthy apology.
Hartley was nothing if not polite.
Chapter 14
“Graykey truth has a different color every day. ”
“When a Graykey swears, cover your ears. ”
“Trusting a Graykey is like picking up an alley cat. ” The aphorisms about distrusting the Graykey are numerous, and I must begin by saying that I do not believe they deserve their reputation for deceit. On the contrary, they are the most obsessively honest people I have ever met; clear and plainspoken, and scrupulously accurate about almost everything that comes out of their mouths. Ask a Graykey in passing how he feels, and he has to stop a minute, think, and give you the most perfect summing-up he can.
Having said all that, I must now add that I do not trust them either. And the reason for this is simple: Ethical behavior is hierarchical among the Graykey, and the Contract comes before all. Where it does not conflict with his Contract, a Graykey will be the most openhearted and accommodating of companions. Where it does, they are totally without mercy.
Ironically, their reputation for trickiness really stems from their ingrained honesty, for they try to tell the truth wherever possible—leading them and their listeners into some twisting verbal bypaths. “Jesuitical” is the first adjective you will find listed in the Imperial Encyclopedia; and that source will tell you also that the Graykey are great practitioners of the game of casuistry.
From my personal experience among them, I believe this reputation depresses them terribly.
Keylinn:
I saw Spider putting down Caudlander’s A Tourist Guide to the Graykey as I entered the office. He lifted his head from the sofa pillow and smiled at me without a trace of shame.
“I stored those books here for safekeeping,” I said, “not to provide you with a personal library.”
He grinned. “ ‘Jesuitical’?” he asked. “And what in heaven’s name is ‘casuistry’?”
I walked over, took the book from his hands—I’d hard-copied them for convenience, since this was a long-term assignment—and checked what page he was on. “Mostly nonsense,” I assured him.
“Oh? Why do you keep it around?”
“To remind myself of how strange some people’s mindsets can be.” I sat on the sofa beside him. “Present company excepted, of course.”
“Thank you.” He did not appear offended at all.
I decided not to pursue this topic. There was no reason for him to believe that my interest in the Graykey was anything but intellectual. Unless Tal had told him, which I would not assume. I said, “I go on-shift in two hours. Where is it you wanted to take me?”
“Ah, yes.” He got up and put on his good jacket. “You really liked the play yesterday?”
“I said that I did.”
“And you really liked the fellow playing Falstaff.”
“Yes, I really did. Why, do you want to see it over again? It’s not playing today, and I wouldn’t have time anyway.”
Spider said, “He’s a friend of mine, and we’re due to go have tea and cookies with him and his friend, right now.”
He seemed to enjoy tilting
