City of Diamond, стр. 8
“It should be washed, sir.”
Tal took a chair, lounging back comfortably. “They won’t be close enough to smell anything. You humans have underdeveloped olfactory senses anyway.”
“Press it, Lucius,” said Adrian.
Fischer said, “White suggests—”
“It suggests a chaste and proper bridegroom,” cut in Tal, whose patience with Diamond symbolism had clearly defined limits. His gray eyes rested coldly on Brandon Fischer’s figure, where the old man sat tiredly on the edge of the walnut table, his weight eased back to take the burden from his legs. The boy, or man, known as Adrian’s demon did not suffer gladly those he considered fools. More than once, he’d suggested to the Protector than an early retirement for the Chief Adviser would be in everyone’s best interest; but Adrian seemed to have a sentimental attachment to the old dodderer. As if loyalty to past bonds ever got anyone anywhere. Humans lived in constant illusion; he, Tal, did not live in illusion. “What’s the arrangement today?” he asked. “Any taboos I should be observing?”
“The reception is purely for show,” said Adrian. “No business or policy discussion. I’ll be introducing myself as a Mercati—as though they hadn’t already heard—and we’ll all accept each other as one big family.”
“I do hope the family’s been checked for weapons.”
“It’s a public reception, Tal. Ambassadors and other boring folk. I doubt if anyone’s going to pull out a penknife and strike a blow for their City.”
Fischer said to Tal, “We don’t all have your keen grasp of how to remove obstacles.”
Tal smiled. It was a different smile from Adrian’s. Adrian knelt beside his dresser and pulled a wine-colored sash from a drawer. Fischer said nothing; he was past commenting on the clothes. With his usual regard for household order, Adrian tossed the wine sash over his shoulder to the floor and unrolled one of white. As he tied it around his waist, he asked, “What are the lower decks saying about the wedding?”
Fischer hadn’t a clue what the lower decks were saying. He opened his mouth to report this, when Tal said, “The idea seems to have a lot of appeal. They’re a sentimental bunch, particularly below G deck.”
Tal met Fischer’s startled glance blandly.
“I was not aware,” said Fischer, “that your demon had some sort of information-gathering imperative.”
Tal said, “I wasn’t aware the Chief Adviser was required to be informed of every step the Protector takes.” Adrian looked up from the mess he was making of the sash’s knot—he knew he should leave these things to Lucius, but he was impatient to get out. “If you two are going to start referring to each other in the third person again, you can damn well leave. I’ve got enough on my mind today as it is.”
“Nor was I aware,” said Fischer, turning to face Tal, “that you possess contacts outside of court. I know you have few enough there—”
“Maybe your focus has been too narrow.”
“Maybe it should be widened.”
Adrian cleared his throat, and Fischer fell silent, at least for a moment. Then he turned back to Adrian. “You’ve always cared too much what the lower decks think. Regardless of what Saul used to say, their approval can only go so far. The knights are the group that matters; they’re the ones with weapons. Them and the bankers.”
“He’s probably right,” said Tal. .
Fischer, who had been about to continue the argument, paused, looked uncomfortable, and switched directions. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt to Stmnd their opinion,” he admitted, grudgingly.
“And what about the girl?” asked Adrian. “How do they feel about Iolanthe?”
Tal said, “Oh, they’re ready to accept her as a pure, untrammeled flower, a funnel of all virtues. They have every expectation that you two will fall in love at first sight, or at least do them the courtesy of faking it for their benefit. I hope you’re not going to disillusion them?”
“I’ll try not to,” said Adrian, “but someone may have to cue the lady.” He looked up, surrendering his struggle with the sash, and met Tal’s eyes in the mirror. Adrian said, “You’re wearing your gray lenses!”
“You asked me to.”
Fischer peered into Tal’s face, and stirred uneasily. “Adrian, if they’ve heard he’s a demon … do we want to offend them? Everybody knows demons have gray eyes when they fully incarnate. Couldn’t he have worn the green or brown lenses?”
For the first time Tal looked less confident. “I took your request at face value. If it was one of those aspects of humor you say escape me—”
“No, no!” said Adrian. “That is, it was, but I meant what I said. It appealed to my own humor to have you attend with gray eyes. Come on, Brandon, take it in context. He might have attended without any lenses at all. That would get their attention.”
“Adrian, I wish you would consult me before—” Lucius returned with the shirt, and Adrian seized it gratefully, saying, “We really must hurry, you know.” There was a slight note of accusation in his voice as he looked at Tal and Fischer. One would think he’d been delayed unreasonably for hours. He tucked in the shirt hastily, while Lucius made disapproving sounds over the sash, and the demon and the Chief Adviser exchanged a rare glance of accord.
The upper corridor to the Cavern of Audience was a long one, and Adrian took the opportunity to drop back a few paces and address his demon.
“Do try not to provoke him.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tal inquired.
“Brandon.” Adrian nodded to where Fischer strode ahead with the three lead members of the Protector’s Squad. “It’s not that he’s stupid, you know, it’s just that he’s conventional. You pluck at all his nerves.”
“I pluck at his nerves just by being.”
“That’s my point. You could try not to rub his nose in it by always giving him the benefit of your—unique viewpoint.”
“I thought you asked me to stay because of my unique viewpoint.”
Adrian smiled. “My dear demon,