Master of Formalities

by Scott Meyer

  Lady Jakabitus and Lord Pavlon retired to Her Ladyship’s offices to do just that.

  The group term Her Ladyship’s offices was, in fact, used to describe a suite of many rooms, which had at one time housed both the ruler’s office and workspaces for the large administrative staff that was needed to help the ruler make—and then carry out—decisions. As with most other forms of labor at the palace, those tasks were now carried out by either the invisible army of microscopic utilitics that covered every surface, or the invisible army of full-sized people who worked in the palace’s new addition, well out of the ruler’s sight. As such, the whole complex of rooms had been remodeled to allow the ruler a selection of offices to use as the circumstances and the ruler’s moods demanded.

  Lady Jakabitus did the vast majority of her work, including receiving the morning briefings, from the primary office. It lent these occasions the sense of grandeur and spectacle that she felt the people of Apios deserved. This meeting was different, though. She was dealing personally with a Lord, the ruler of his own planet. Any effort to awe him would instead result in contempt or resentment. She wanted him to identify with her. As such she chose the informal office. It was intimate but dignified, unlike the private office her father had commissioned for off-the-record audiences with various special advisors who were all female, attractive, and had exciting plans to share with His Lordship regarding his anatomy. She’d only learned about that particular office after becoming the ruler herself, and it had forever altered her image of her father. It was certainly intimate, but it lacked any kind of dignity.

  Lady Jakabitus offered Lord Pavlon a seat on a priceless antique settee, then settled onto the identical settee facing him. Wollard and Phee stood nearby, in case either ruler needed their assistance. Shly arrived swiftly, dispensed drinks efficiently, then left silently.

  “Lunch was wonderful,” Lord Pavlon said. “Thank you again for your hospitality. It is a shame your family couldn’t join us.”

  Lady Jakabitus made a point of not looking at Wollard and said, “Yes. Perhaps on your next visit.”

  “Perhaps,” Lord Pavlon replied, “if there is a next visit.”

  Lady Jakabitus carefully hid all of the many signs of irritation that were trying to rise to the surface. In all her years as ruler, she had seldom endured a more frustrating exchange than the ones she had been having with Lord Pavlon. The man had shown a profound commitment to being noncommittal.

  “I, um, I trust my valet’s needs have been seen to,” Lord Pavlon said.

  “I’m certain of it,” Lady Jakabitus said, glancing at Wollard, who nodded.

  “He’s been given fitting quarters?” Lord Pavlon asked Wollard.

  “Yes, Milord. My protégée Phee saw to it personally.”

  Lord Pavlon switched his focus to Phee. “Was he satisfied with his accommodations?”

  Phee looked to Wollard for reassurance. It was highly unusual for a protégée to directly converse with a visiting dignitary when her mentor was present. Wollard nodded almost imperceptibly, and Phee spoke.

  “Yes, Milord. Your valet was quite satisfied with his quarters.”

  “Was he?”

  “He was, Your Lordship.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes, Your Lordship. I saw to it myself.”

  Lord Pavlon stared at Phee for a long moment, then said, “Good,” and turned back to Lady Jakabitus.

  “Lord Pavlon,” Lady Jakabitus said, “as you know, my planet has been locked in a wretched stalemate of a war with the Hahn for generations.”

  Lord Pavlon squirmed in his seat and said, “Yes. I know.”

  “Then you also know that the location of the fighting, and the prize we are fighting for, is the planet Ophion 6.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know that the Hahn have recently stepped up their offensive efforts, causing a drastic increase in casualties on both sides?”

  “Yes,” Lord Pavlon said. “I had reason to believe that was the case.”

  “And I am aware,” Her Ladyship continued, “that since the first days of the war, both sides have coveted the permission of House Pavlon to use your planet, . . . Sheud, as a base of operations.”

  Lord Pavlon nodded. “The unfortunate result of being the only habitable world in nonwarp range of the battlefield.”

  Lady Jakabitus leaned forward. “It doesn’t need to be unfortunate. If we were to come to an arrangement, I can assure you that the Apiosan military’s impact on your world would be slight, and we’re in a position to pay you for your tolerance in any number of ways.”

  Lord Pavlon grimaced, then leaned forward himself. “Lady Jakabitus, I suspect every child born on Apios is raised with the knowledge that this world is at war with the Hahn. Is that not so?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “And children born on the Hahn Home World are raised with the knowledge that they are at war with Apios.”

  “Presumably.”

  “Did you know that every child born on . . . Sheud is raised with the knowledge that Apios and the Hahn are at war, and that both sides would love to use . . . Sheud as a base of operations?”

  “I didn’t know that my planet’s problems loomed so large for your people.”

  “Lady Jakabitus, your problem is our problem. For generations, both of your worlds have exerted pressure on my ancestors in hopes of securing our cooperation. Apios has always wanted a base on . . . Sheud, but you’ve never offered anything in return that justified being drawn into a war.”

  “And I’m sure the Hahn have made all sorts of offers as well,” Lady Jakabitus said.

  “No. I believe the Hahn made one offer, at the beginning of the war. When we refused they started regularly attempting to assassinate each successive ruler of . . . Sheud in hopes that their replacement would see things differently.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Maybe, but . . . Sheud’s security forces have gotten very good at protecting their rulers. Besides, the Hahn don’t really make what you’d call a serious effort. They try just hard enough to remind us of their interest.”

  “If we’ve offered friendship, and they’ve been trying to kill you, then I’d think deciding who to side with would be easy, Lord Pavlon.”

  “We don’t think it’s a decision as to whose side . . . Sheud should take. The choice is whether to take a side at all. If we were to do so, of course it would be yours. We all know that the Hahn are loathsome, but the only reason you’ve given me to join you against them is that they’ve recently become more violent. I don’t consider that a compelling reason to make them angry.”

  26.

  Hartchar was not happy. She was a woman who valued discipline, honesty, and routine above all things. Migg’s clandestine note, which had arrived only moments ago, had asked her to forgo her usual schedule, leave her customary evening workout, and meet here, on one of the New Palace’s balconies overlooking the palace courtyard, to privately discuss Master Hennik’s sports training. It irritated her on every level.

  The appointed time had almost arrived. Migg was not yet late, but she was already not early, which Hartchar took as more reason for irritation.

  If one were going to pick a place to waste one’s valuable time waiting, Hartchar had to admit, this was a good choice. It was a pleasant evening. The sun was just about to set, but it was plenty bright enough for her to watch Lady Jakabitus and Wollard make polite conversation with a visiting Lord and his servant in the palace courtyard. Their business had, presumably, been concluded, for a warp transport sat before them. Lord Pavlon appeared to be wearing a large reddish-brown tube that left his legs exposed from the knees down. The contraption was bent at the top to display his head, which was presented in the circular frame of the tube. His head stood out against the tube’s dark interior because of the white face makeup with yellow circles an
d red lines slashed randomly across his features. His arms extended through holes in the sides of the tube, and were themselves sheathed in smaller tubes.

  Most people would see the desirability of their location as a good thing, but for Hartchar, every quality that recommended the balcony was another reason for Migg to already be there—and thus another reason for her to be irritated by Migg’s absence.

  Hartchar heard footsteps approaching from inside the palace. She nearly demanded to know why Migg was late. Instead, she looked back to see who was approaching, and was grateful that she had. It was Lord Jakabitus.

  “Your Lordship,” she said, bowing. “If you want the balcony to yourself, I’d be happy to leave.”

  Lord Jakabitus said, “Not at all, Hartchar. I think you’re meant to be here. I received a message from Hennik’s valet.”

  “Migg.”

  “Yes. She wanted to discuss something about Hennik’s training. I assume she sent you a message as well.”

  “Yes, Milord.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, Milord.”

  “I see.” Lord Jakabitus looked around the courtyard, then the sky, then the city, then back into the palace. He nodded, sucked his teeth, and said, “I found Hennik’s performance today rather promising.”

  “As was Master Rayzo’s,” Hartchar said.

  “But Rayzo lost the match.”

  “He became distracted,” Hartchar said.

  “Yes. He did.”

  “I believe Master Hennik planned it.”

  “Of course he did. It’s why he won. Like I said, Hartchar, it was a promising performance for Hennik, all in all.”

  “As you say, Milord,” Hartchar said, cautiously, “but I believe Master Hennik’s actions today betray a lack of respect for the rules and spirit of the game.”

  “Boys his age should disrespect the rules. It’s only by breaking the stated rules that you learn what the real rules are.”

  “Rayzo doesn’t break the rules,” Hartchar said.

  “No, he gets that from his mother. She worries about the rules, worries about what others think of her, which is a good thing for a person in power. It keeps her from becoming a monster. She’ll do what needs to be done, but she suffers for it. I love Joanadie and Rayzo, but truth be told, my friends and I were more like Hennik as lads. We were awful. Rayzo isn’t awful. He’s the kind of kid we were awful to.”

  “Rayzo works very hard to please you.”

  “No question. I wonder, if I ever told him how thoroughly pleased I am with him, would he stop? He will rule this planet one day. Do we want a ruler who believes he’s already good enough at age fourteen?”

  “You seem willing enough to express pleasure with Master Hennik.”

  Lord Jakabitus smiled. “It gives Rayzo a reason to work harder and encourages Hennik to keep behaving exactly as he does, which fools nobody.”

  “I’m angry with Migg for calling us here, then not bothering to show up,” Hartchar said, “but I’m glad we had this conversation, Milord.”

  “Yes, it might be nice not having you believe that I’m an idiot.” Lord Jakabitus leaned on the railing and looked down over the courtyard. “I’m nothing but happy with the work you’ve done with Rayzo, Hartchar. Moving forward, I think we need to work on getting him to vary his techniques, be less predictable, and ignore any dis . . . trac . . . what the devil it that?!”

  At first, Hartchar wasn’t sure what Lord Jakabitus meant. Lady Jakabitus, Wollard, and Phee were still making conversation with Lord Pavlon and his servant. The warp transport still sat in the same spot, ready to take the visitors back to their home world. Hartchar was beginning to suspect that he was testing her ability to ignore distractions, but when she squinted and followed His Lordship’s line of sight, she saw it. Two figures, clad from head to toe in white clothes that blended in with the marble wall, were carefully edging their way around the outside of the courtyard.

  The two figures stood on the other side of the warp transport from the other people in the courtyard. One of them had ventured away from the wall, which caught Lord Jakabitus’s attention. The white outfit stood out against the darker mosaic of pavers.

  “Master Hennik,” Hartchar said, then arched an eyebrow and added, “and Migg.”

  “The very person who arranged for us to be standing on this balcony, at this moment,” Lord Jakabitus said. “That is interesting. I suppose he means to sneak onto the transport and escape.”

  “Shall I intercept them, Milord?”

  “In a moment. There’s no rush. This will be a nice opportunity for Hennik to become better acquainted with the security system.”

  Hartchar nodded. She scanned the courtyard, where countless hidden hatches had silently slid open, revealing a wide variety of weapons.

  The personal chambers of the ruling family, their guests, and their staff were kept strictly private, but any common areas, corridors, and certainly the courtyard, were subject to constant, inescapable surveillance. Neither Hartchar nor Lord Jakabitus had any doubt that security knew who Hennik was, where Hennik was, what Hennik was attempting, and exactly how forcefully to respond. Given Hennik’s importance, and the fact he was attempting to flee without injuring anyone, Hartchar suspected that security would opt to simply subdue him with the utilitics. The two continued to watch as the scene unfolded before them.

  Hennik took several more steps out from the wall, then, feeling emboldened, motioned for Migg to follow. As she stepped away from the wall, Hennik broke into a fast trot toward the transport. As predicted, he made it only a few steps before his feet slid out from under him. He fell hard, face first, to the ground. Migg also fell. Hennik tried to lift himself, but his hand slid out from under him as if he were on ice. The utilitics were using the same technique they employed to move inanimate objects to prevent Hennik, an all-too-animate object, from moving. Migg wisely chose to remain motionless.

  Hartchar nodded, said “Your Lordship,” then casually vaulted over the balcony railing. The New Palace wall tilted at a steep angle. At first Hartchar fell, then she slid, then her feet caught, and she ran several steps down the wall before redirecting her momentum and jogging to a stop on the ground. Lord Jakabitus hadn’t needed a reminder of why Hartchar had been hired to train Rayzo physically, but he was reminded nonetheless.

  Hartchar walked out to Hennik, who was still attempting to struggle to his feet, and Migg, who still was not.

  “Master Hennik,” Hartchar said. “My compliments. That’s a very nice suit.”

  “How dare you detain me, servant?!” Hennik pulled the white scarf from around his face with one hand, the other hand still trying and failing to pull him from the ground. “What gives you the right to interfere with a member of Lady Jakabitus’s family?”

  “The family you’re attempting to escape, Master Hennik?” Hartchar allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction watching him writhe and squirm on the ground. “I’m not the one detaining you, Master Hennik. Security and the utilitics are doing that. And I don’t have the authority to release you. As you say, I am just a servant. I can escort you back to your bedchamber, though.”

  Hennik grunted with frustration as he sagged onto the ground. His formal white hat fell off and rolled onto the ground next to him. “This is an outrage!” he shouted.

  “I can tell you’re frustrated, Master Hennik. If it’s any consolation, the fact that you thought this plan would actually work is pretty insulting. It shows how stupid you think we all are. You can take some solace in that.”

  Hennik continued to lay facedown on the ground, determined not to give Hartchar the satisfaction of even acknowledging that he’d heard her.

  “I think it’s time I escorted you two inside, Master Hennik.” Hartchar didn’t address the security personnel directly, but she knew they were listening.

  Hennik ba
red his teeth at her and started to hoist himself off the ground, only to immediately fall again.

  “Don’t bother standing, Master Hennik. Let the utilitics do their work.”

  Hartchar motioned toward the palace entrance. The two Hahn slid silently in that direction. Hennik took the lead, or rather, was given the lead against his will. He was followed by his hat and scarf, gliding silently in his wake, then Migg.

  As Migg slid past Hartchar’s feet she pulled the scarf from her face and smiled up at the trainer, who returned the gesture. Hartchar looked up at the balcony, nodded to Lord Jakabitus, and followed the escapees as they slid back into the palace. The three of them kept a comfortable distance from Lady Jakabitus and the others, all of whom silently watched them pass.

  Lord Pavlon exhaled, turned to Lady Jakabitus, and said, “Adoptions are always difficult.”

  “Too true,” Lady Jakabitus agreed.

  “Thank you, Lady Jakabitus, for your hospitality,” Lord Pavlon said, bowing his head, which moved freely inside the stationary, curved tube that covered his torso and framed his face. He turned to Wollard and said, “And thank you for your assistance to me and my valet.”

  Wollard bowed deeply. “It was my pleasure, Lord Pavlon, but it was my protégée, Phee, who tended to your valet’s needs. I cannot take credit for her efforts.”

  Pavlon reoriented his entire body to aim his cumbersome clothing toward Phee, then nodded. “I thank you, Phee.”

  Phee bowed. “It was my pleasure to ensure that Soodon was afforded the courtesy he deserves, Your Lordship.” She smiled at Lord Pavlon, but her glance flicked briefly to Soodon, who instantly clinched every muscle in his body.

  Pavlon rotated forty-five degrees to look at Soodon, then rotated back to look at Phee, then back to Soodon, then to Wollard, Lady Jakabitus, and back to Phee. Finally he let out a long, exasperated breath.

  “Phee,” Lord Pavlon said, “did Soodon tell you that he was the real Lord Pavlon, and that I am a decoy?”