“Your luggage will be here shortly,” said Dereuzz. “Do you have any other questions in the meantime?”
“No questions, thanks for asking,” said Jint. It seemed their wristgears had already taken in all the information that was necessary for living in the Manor, including the various call numbers to request services, the name registry of the main staff, and the guide map to the enormous labyrinth that the Emyoor Clan members, who evidently shared a penchant for causing headaches, had seen fit to erect. Naturally, the floor plan of this room could also be pulled up using their wristgears, along with info on how to raise and lower the partitions.
“Goodbye,” said Dereuzz, setting off on the transporter.
Thanks to the partitions, the area where the couches and the table were situated looked more like a proper lounge area. Surrounded on three sides by the walls, it looked out directly onto the garden. The bath-pond on the other side was also surrounded by walls, making it a bathhouse with privacy.
“How drab,” said Lafier.
“I’ll fix it.” Jint hooked up his wristgear into the compucrystal net, replacing the dull hue of the walls with some nice background video projections of a bird flying between picturesque clouds. He also sent some relaxing music to play at barely audible volume. “Like that?”
“Sure, it’s fine. It’ll do.”
“I thank you for your words of praise. Now then, I shall be setting back to work.”
“To do what?”
“A trifling matter, compared to carrying out your orders, Fïac Lartnér.”
Jint checked to see whether his wristgear could establish contact with the landworld below. Luckily, the Manor’s compucrystal net was one with Delktu’s own. That was a sign that the people of Delktu and the liege had been on friendly terms. In many territory-nations, due to mistrust between the liege and the landworld administration, the Fapytécth (Liege’s Manor) and the landworld operated using separate compucrystal networks.
The time had come for what Jint was really after. He searched for his closest friend from back when he’d lived in Delktu pretending to be just another immigrant. Que Durin.
Unfortunately, it looked like Delktu was practically swarming with people named Que Durin; 30,000 popped up in the listings.
“What do you feel like drinking?” asked Lafier.
“Ah, a cold coffee,” he replied half-heartedly.
Every landworld citizen in Vorlash had a “birth number.” As long as one had a person’s number down, they could be contacted no matter where they were. Unfortunately, Jint didn’t know his friend’s birth number. As such, he was forced to plug in as much of Durin’s information as he could remember. Age, birthplace, place of residence by the time Jint left Delktu... At last, he’d narrowed it down to one Que Durin. Just in case, he requested a photo.
That was him all right. The boy Jint had gotten to know through the minchiu team.
Meanwhile, a mobile table had reached him with the drink Lafier had ordered.
Jint took a sip. “Just to let you know, I’m gonna be speaking in a language that’s not Baronh,” he warned her.
“Okay,” she nodded.
The rest was easy. He rang him up for an audio-only call, and Durin picked up immediately.
“Is this Que Durin?” Jint asked nervously.
“Well, if that’s not a voice that stirs some memories,” said Durin. “Or I guess, it’s not so much your voice as it is your accent. I know a handful of offworlders, but you’re the only bumpkin I know who can make our language sound so unsophisticated. It’s like you encased your tongue in mud. Half-dry mud. It’s been a while, Lynn Jint.”
“Right back at you, Que Durin. And it’s been a while since I’ve spoken Delktunian, too.” Jint was relieved to learn his friend still remembered him.
“Come on, man, your Delktunian hasn’t changed since we last saw each other. It still sounds like you’re chewing hay dipped in mud, just like old times.” They’d last seen each other on the day Jint left Delktu. “So then, Your Excellency the Noble Prince of the Countdom of Hyde, have you decided to ditch the aristocracy?”
“Not yet. I’m actually a count now.”
“Congratulations... or maybe not. Did something happen to your dad?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s no big whoop,” he said, keen to keep the conversation elsewhere. “How’s business doing on your end?”
“Don’t have a business yet. And to think, you got promoted to a count while my uncle still never misses a beat pushing me around.”
“That’s a shame. I mean, about your business, not about your uncle.” Jint licked his lips. Now was the time. “So hey, I have a job proposition for you.”
“A job proposition?” he asked, with a slight air of innocence.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Jint smiled wryly.
“’Course I do. I just couldn’t believe you’d be hiring me.”
“Is it that crazy?”
“You bet it is. What are the servant vassals of a pathetic excuse for a noble like you to do? Unless you make me a cabinet minister or something. Then I might consider it!”
“I can make you a cabinet minister, if that’s what you want.” Jint hadn’t originally planned to create such a high-flown position, but depending on Durin’s attitude, he didn’t mind founding the position just to pester him.
“Wait, hold on,” said Durin, genuinely disconcerted. “If you do that, won’t the vassals that are already working there go in a tizzy? Or is that level of self-indulgence just a fart in the wind to a big fancy noble? Maybe you’d be okay with that, but I’ll pass. There’s more mental fatigue in it for me than glory; I already know my head would explode from work I haven’t the first idea about.”
“You already know? From experience?”
“I told you, I’m working under my uncle. He treasures his relatives, but he has a funny way of showing it. It’s nice that he gives us jobs, but he never tells us stuff we should know in advance, and then he gets cross if we don’t deliver.”
“There’s nothing to worry about—”
“Oh, I know. I don’t want to be a cabinet minister, but
