Private journal of Darion, Lord Rivers, Undersecretary to the Foreign Minister of Calaria
The sixth of the first month.
Perhaps I might soon enjoy relations with my wife again.
Sir Willard Chase, that good man, is dead – and I mourn him as is proper. But with his death there comes available a post to which I may appoint Gregorius Bass, so that my honoured spouse may be reconciled to me.
It always astounds me that a woman otherwise astute should so romanticise such a one as Gregorius, half-brother or no. True, he bears a strong physical resemblance to their late father, and has even many of the old man's mannerisms. This circumstance has deceived others, myself included, though never for so long as it has deceived her. Their father was no fool; a badger of a man, black and white, solid and slow-moving, tenacious, fierce when cornered, but no fool.
True, also, that Gregorius is some years older than his sister, and she has often told me stories of how he was her hero and her protector when she was very young, and he not yet away to school. (I sometimes think that if I hear the tale of how he rescued her from the millrace once more, I shall not be responsible for my actions.)
It passes my belief, however, that she thinks him a brilliant prodigy, unfairly held back by his relationship to me; when in fact the exact opposite is the truth.
Many have been our late-night arguments, Katara insisting that he ought to be given a position more suited to his talents; I (having been a diplomat) forbearing to retort that I can hardly demote him, but protesting that I cannot be seen to be nepotistic. She, that surely all know his ability. I, again diplomatic, that no suitable position is available. She, to sulks; and I, alone to a cold bed.
Now, though, with the death of Sir Willard, Bonvidaeo has fallen vacant – a sinecure, made for a plodder, a clod, a filler of forms, a seat-warmer such as Gregorius. Almost a ceremonial post, a hangover from an earlier age, a token to prop the pride of a few Calarian mercers and fullers in that now peaceful city who, since the time of my predecessor's predecessor, have not required the services of an envoy for anything more than permits and official seals – the issuance of which is well within even Gregorius's competence. I believe there is even a book which sets out the procedures, written in a fit of boredom or zeal by some previous incumbent and handed down ever since. He can read, even if slowly, and it is not a long book.
"Envoy" as a title has a good ring. I think Katara may be satisfied with "envoy".
My only concern is that he may offend the odd customs of the Bonvidaeoans, and to that end I asked Tailor, through whose ears all knowledge passes, to search for some native of that city to serve him in the capacity of guide. Gregorius is looking for a new valet (he bored me almost senseless the other night with a long tale about how the present fellow can never heat his shaving water to the right temperature), so I can foist one upon him and not seem a meddler. Indeed, I shall be the solicitous brother-in-law.
Luck was mine again, for Tailor stated immediately that he knew of such a one; a youth, trained to service in one of the great houses of Bonvidaeo, who had sought adventure as a sailor, landed here for a season, and now desired to return to his native country.
(If only I could appoint Tailor to some post fitting to his worth! But were he not a commoner, or were he posted out of kingdom, he could not serve me by the wealth of contacts and the knowledge of the deep currents of the city that he has. I must be content with paying him a clear crown higher than his official post should merit. Had I but more Tailors and fewer Basses…)
The seventh of the first month.
The sun shines upon me, though outdoors it is winter and the trees display no leaves. I enjoy, again, the favour of my wife; and find myself much relaxed, and in good temper with the universe.
Today, also, I have met the Bonvidaeoan youth. He is a slender fellow, quick of movement, speech, and thought, and mature for his years, which number perhaps eighteen or twenty. He has the foibles of the Bonvidaoans: will not look one in the face, and wears the mask all his countrymen affect; yet his tact would not disgrace a man of my own profession. He is educated, he tells me, in the lore of masks of which that City makes so much, and will be able to serve as clerk and secretary in addition to his valet duties.
He strikes me as the ideal guide for Gregorius. I cannot imagine a youth more suited to keeping a fool out of trouble.