district. He was looking for intelligence about the Aushenian king. Anything; romantic liaisons in his past; proclivities that might upset the queen; evidence of cowardice on the battlefield, perhaps. Delivegu had even bribed a clerk with access to the historical library to search the speeches and proclamations issued in the king's name. There had to be something. Grae could not be the faithful admirer that he wanted Corinn to think him.
What did he discover for all his searching? Not much. The king had bedded his share of noblewomen, but that was hardly a secret. Such wasn't even out of keeping with his nation's traditions. He had been known to bathe nude with male companions in the hot springs of the Gradthic mountains, but that wasn't anything he'd be ashamed of either. Northerners did that sort of thing.
His military record was unblemished. Indeed, if his valor in securing his national borders after Hanish's downfall was to be believed, it was amazing he had lived through it. His official proclamations were often critical of the Acacian Empire, of Akaran leaders of the past, and even of the reigning queen, certainly of the quota trade and the League of Vessels' grip on commerce.
But so what? None of these things was enough. Delivegu wrote them out in several draft letters, but in reading each through he saw how petty it all sounded, how insubstantial. Aliver Akaran himself had sought to abolish the quota trade. Dariel Akaran had blown the league platforms to smithereens. Corinn, he feared, would see it for what it was and adjust her opinion of him downward. He needed something more.
This search was what had brought him to the district below the palace, the area reserved for foreign dignitaries. He had been standing in the shadows near King Grae's accommodations long enough that his legs were numb and his head aching from the repetitive tedium of his thoughts. He was so near to slumber that he started when a figure opened the door and slipped into the street. The light was faint, but Delivegu's eyes were accustomed enough to the starlight to make out the young man. He wore a hooded cloak of Aushenian cut. Delivegu had seen such garments before and found them lacking in terms of fashion. Aushenians still fancied themselves hunters of the woods and marshes. Why did cultures always mythologize the past? Silly, really, when what was of more import to them was the ever-oncoming future.
But he shouldn't be distracted. The thing to notice here was that the man wore a cloak when the night was warm. He walked with a nervous gait, looking around as if he feared being discovered. Something clandestine was at hand. Delivegu, quiet as a cat in his fur-soled leather boots, followed the man through the foreign district, out the open gate and down toward the terraces, through the markets, and around the square in which a few early laborers were gathering in the hope of securing work with the dawn. The journey took little more than twenty minutes, but by the time it ended Delivegu scented that his fortunes had shifted.
The hooded man paid an early call on a commoner's messenger service, early enough that he had to pound on the door for some time. He was eventually admitted. Delivegu took up his vantage point a little way down the street. There he waited until the hooded man reappeared, looking just as nervous, and headed back the way he had come. Weighing his options, Delivegu decided to pay his own call instead of following the man farther.
He entered with a casual air, letting the doorbell tinkle his entry merrily. It was a dingy place, crowded with crates and rank with the smell of bird droppings. There were a few cages around the room, large enough to hold messenger birds. Most of them were empty; and the few that were not housed sickly-looking creatures, feather plucked and mangy. Not the type of service a king-or a king's servant, even-would have need to employ.
The proprietor came from the back, looking sleepy and cranky. 'I'm not open yet,' he said, taking Delivegu in with suspicious eyes. 'Door should've been locked. Back yourself out and return in a bit.'
'Ah, but you must be open. I saw a customer leave just a moment ago.'
'That bastard? He woke me from a pleasant sleep. Nearly bashed his head for it. You move on before I treat you to what I should've given him.' The man was shorter than Delivegu, a bit heavy around the middle, and had a limp; but he moved with gruff confidence, coming forward and reaching out to turn the unwelcome arrival around.
'Hold a minute!' Delivegu said, his voice sharp and dripping with threat. 'Be careful whom you touch, friend. This could be a good morning for you, or it could be a very unpleasant one.'
The man froze. He stood uncomfortably close to Delivegu, as his momentum had taken him a step too far, even as his grasping arm drew back. Craning his eyes upward, he said, 'I don't care for threats.'
Delivegu smiled and eased back a half step. 'Well, then don't hear one in what I said. You need not, if you're reasonable.'
'All right, what do you want? Message sent, eh? Can't go out just now. Don't have the bird for it.'
Delivegu put on a frown. 'Men like you confound me. You're a businessman, but you offer such gruffness to one who, for all you know, has arrived to offer you a fortune in commerce.'
'Hah!' the man said. 'Been in it awhile and that's never happened. Not waiting for it, either. What's your business?'
'My business, friend, regards the man who was here before me.'
The proprietor kept his eyes on Delivegu. He moved backward warily. 'That one? What's it to you?' And then, as if he regretted asking the question, he added, 'My customer's business is private.' He had reached the counter that ran along the back wall. He edged behind it, his fingertips touching the countertop, twitching slightly, betraying more nervousness than his face did.
'You have some weapon back there, don't you?' Delivegu asked. He had come forward as the man backed and stood now with his legs planted firmly, both his arms loose beside his body. 'It would be a mistake to reach for it. Don't. Listen to me before you do anything foolish. I need to know what is in that note. You haven't sent it yet, surely.' He paused just long enough for the man to protest that there was no note. No protest came. 'I won't tell a soul about this. You'll live on just as before. You'll send the note. I'll just know what's in it, and because I know, treachery may well be thwarted. This situation provides you with many opportunities to lose. What I offer is a simple win: two options.'
So saying, Delivegu held his arms out. In his left was a small canvas bag, heavy with something. In his right was a delicate dagger. 'A sack of coins or a blade. Which do you prefer? And, I assure you, I'm quite skilled with the blade. I was raised badly, you see. Don't look at the blade too closely,' he added. 'It's sharp enough to cut your eyeball.'
'You're mad,' the man said, though he did pull his gaze away from the knife. 'The note is to his mother. A letter announcing his engagement, that's all. That's what he said.'
'If that's true, there's no reason not to show it to me. I'll laugh and you'll laugh, and the note will fly to Mother. No harm done.' Nodding at the dagger, he said, 'I've nothing against you, but I will gut you like a hog and leave you wrapped in your entrails. Or I'll leave you doubly enriched, and all before normal business hours. Think quickly.'
The man did. He valued his life more than his honor. A reasonable way of perceiving the world, Delivegu thought as he took the parchment from the man's fingers, unrolled it, and read.
The note was not an announcement of an engagement, but by this point Delivegu knew it wouldn't be. It was, at first reading, so deceptively simple that one might have wondered why it even needed to be sent. It stated: B. All is progressing. Will have her confidence soon. G.
Delivegu felt the blood rush through his body, tingling in his fingers and throbbing in his temples and even stirring in his groin. G. He was certain that stood for Grae, and just as certain that she was Queen Corinn. Who was the B? This was just the sort of evidence he had been looking for, though it meant little by itself. If it could lead to greater evidence…
'To whom is this to be sent?' he asked.
The proprietor had no idea. The bird's destination was to be a similar messenger service in Aos, to be picked up by whoever knew to ask for it. Questioned as to whether that arrangement was strange, the man agreed it was but also admitted that he had sent several such notes in the past few weeks. 'I don't ask questions, just provide a service, you know.' He motioned vaguely with his hand.
Conveniently, the proprietor did not have a bird ready to send the message. It would not leave his shop until the next evening, at the earliest, and this only if his returning bird came back in good health later that day. The ones in the shop were convalescing. This fact had troubled the man who had left the note. The message would be delayed, possibly long enough for an earthbound traveler to beat it to its destination-if the traveler left immediately.
It took Delivegu only a few minutes to draw up his course of action. He returned the missive to the proprietor's hand, weighted it with the sack of coins, and bade him a good day. He did not tell anyone that he was
