6 - underground

curious

It was a very broad tunnel, tiled and well lit. Demi sensed that the throng of people moved on above them, but there were comparatively few people in the tunnel. It was cool and hushed.

But even here there were things to look at, things to study and consider.

There was a pattern of sandy beige tiles underfoot and numerous mosaics on the wall. Demi felt a little as if she were following a yellow brick road.

“That was Lord Eisenreich,” the equerry volunteered as he led her onward. Demi thought he might have stopped to mop his brow with a handkerchief had he not been so focused on their intended destination. Her close encounter with the serious man in the serious suit had apparently stirred up his nerves. Despite the fact that he had raised it, he did not seem particularly enthusiastic about their current topic of conversation, as if he feared mentioning the other man’s name might summon him unexpectedly. It did not seem that Clarence Darby actually wanted to discuss her new acquaintance with her, but rather that he felt it was his duty to do so. He was in the service of her family, after all, and he seemed to think that she required a warning.

Or, at least that he had best provide one if he wanted to avoid criminal liability.

Darby spared her a side eyed glance. “Lord Eisenreich is one of the twelve peers, one of the great princes of the City. Ancien Regime, noble of the sword, he is from an extremely old and well-respected family — he rules the burough of the Iron Garden and holds the title of Duke. He is one of the most powerful people in the City.” He paused. “He can be a very intense person.”

“Well, he has a splendid sense of humor,” Demi observed with a laugh. Her encounter with the serious man who had been reading her book had restored a little of her sense of adventure and fired her courage, as had the splendor and confusion of the great square. She was still herself no matter how she was dressed and painted. She would just have to work that much harder to make sure her true self came through despite the distortion.

“I doubt you would find many in these halls to agree with you, my lady,” the equerry said tiredly. He glanced behind himself to verify that she was still following him and found that she had stopped again to observe one of the vast mosaics that were laid into the walls.

It was a magnificent series of mosaics: massive, complex, strange, arresting.

It shimmered faintly with the brilliance of jewel cut gemstones, even in the calm, even light of the tunnel.

There were spots of stone as red as blood, the wildly saturated and inimitable beauty of lapis lazuli, bits of turquoise and jade and amethyst, and bright flashes of copper, as shiny as new pennies. The mosaics she had stopped to study seemed to be a triptych illustration of the swirling sky. The center panel featured two angels quite larger than lifesize (one supposed) who were apparently in the process of descending with law tablets.

“I suppose these are our people,” she said, leaning forward to lightly touch the stone where two laurel crowned youths of ambiguous gender stood with their arms raised at the bottom of the center mosaic. They were apparently both awed and delighted to be visited by a code of ethics from on high. She then turned her attention to the side panels, and slowly paced out their length. They seemed to feature an unusual collection of mysterious chimerical beasts — of practically indescribable description — all venerating the newly delivered law in many strange and sundry ways. The whole scene looked as if it had been pulled directly from the imagination of Hieronymus Bosch. “Are these then the senators of the oldest republic in the world?” she wondered aloud. “All the beasts of the field and all the beasts of fancy. One almost expects a caucus race to break out, which I suppose is appropriate, in its own way.” She walked backwards and craned her neck back, trying to look at the mosaic in full. “It’s very interesting, don’t you think?”

‘Interesting’ was an understatement, but Demi was at something of a loss describing her feelings concerning the immense art installation. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable, as if there were a meaning hidden in the work just out of sight, something others saw and understood, but which evaded her understanding. It was maddening not to be able to put her finger on it.

The equerry had clearly assumed that hers was a rhetorical question, but Demi turned her attention back to him, expecting a reply. When he realized this, he hastily nodded.

“Yes my lady, but do please come along. I’ll try to arrange a tour of the Curia for you at a later date, but I must remind you, we do have an appointment with his lordship, your father.”

Her brows drew together briefly and she answered quietly, “I know.”

In fits and starts they moved down the tiled tunnel, with Demi stopping to admire frescoes and mosaics that interested her, and Clarence Darby goading her along, reminding her there was a schedule to keep.

They passed other people from time to time, but the tunnel remained quiet. All of the traffic and bustle was going on above their heads. It was a sore thing to be missing, Demi thought, but she supposed she would have the chance to get her fill of it over time. All of her future was bound up in this place, whether she liked it or not.

Clarence Darby might have wondered at her ability to linger even in a quiet tunnel, but Demi was interested in practically everything she saw, and in no particular hurry to meet either her father or Lord Lysander. She was careful to be mindful enough of the time so that neither she nor Darby would be likely to face harsh punishments on account of their tardiness, but she relished what freedom she had, while she yet had it.

As always, she walked the line.

While she was idling along, admiring the stonework, Demi realized that they had the attention of another party.

There was a figure approaching them with alarming speed — or at least, Demi imagined that it would have been alarming if it hadn’t been so interesting. She immediately took notice of this exciting development. Clarence Darby was clearly trying to do everything in his power not to take notice. He averted his eyes from the person who was bearing down on them, instead looking only directly ahead or directly behind him, an attempt to reassure himself that his charge had not somehow disappeared in the short span of seconds he’d had his eyes off of her.

Demi could not help but feel that he was being a little thick. The person in front of them was certainly headed directly toward them, but Darby behaved as if she wouldn’t be able to see him if he didn’t look directly at her.

“Why is she coming this way,” Demi heard Darby mutter to himself. It did not really sound like a question. “She can not possibly have business with us.”

The ‘she’ in question was a small but smart looking woman dressed in a crisp, authoritative, and immediately recognizable uniform. There was braid on one shoulder and a short capelet over the other, but the most striking element of all was the gleaming badge in the area directly over her heart. She was an officer of the Pinnacle Guard, the security and law enforcement apparatus that served the Seat of Law. She was vested with the power to drag people off to jail — even Lords of the Curia if their offenses were grave enough. What business she had with the two of them, Demi could not say.

The small lady seemed to be a study in opposites.

She had doe eyes and a sweet face, and fluffy silvery white hair pulled into two low pigtails, but that baby face was set into very firm lines. She gave the immediate impression that she was more than capable of using the heavy baton that hung at her waist, even against a substantially larger opponent. The Pinnacle Guard was an elite organization. To even be considered one had to have an exemplary record of service in another policing organization, and then be recommended by a superior. Candidates then underwent grueling training before they qualified to wear the prestigious uniform. Demi had learned all of this while researching the Pinnacle Guard for a story that she had been working on.

It was all fascinating stuff.

Looking at her, Demi was certain that this small officer had experienced a great deal of hardship during her career because of her small frame and her baby face.

As another small person with a baby face, Demi felt an immediate kinship with her. She was on the side of this small policewoman, even if the lady had arrived to take Demi directly to jail.

It was all interesting, regardless.

Demi hoped she wasn't about to be dragged off to the gaol — although honestly, sitting in a cell would probably be more enjoyable than being exhibited as an impeccably dressed accessory for Lord Lysander. After all, she'd never been to jail before. The novelty was interesting in itself. As she was still a juvenile, would she go to juvenile hall? Did the Pinnacle have a juvenile hall? The question was a compelling one.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Demi discovered that she was apparently not the focus of the small officer’s attention.

“Clarence Darby,” the officer said, brandishing a very official looking document, “You have been served with a demand summons issued by the Marchioness Carter. It is my duty to inform you that you will appear before her immediately or suffer penalty of incarceration and punishment, which may include permanent expulsion from the Pinnacle.”

Clarence Darby practically shrieked, stepping back half a pace and drawing his hands to his mouth, as if he intended to bite all of his nails at once. “But I’m currently engaged in an errand under the direct order of Count Serraffield! This is the young Lady Serraffield herself! I'm acting as her guide and guardian until she is officially squired!” he protested, showing a bit too much of the whites of his eyes. “She is in a most delicate position, being newly arrived to the City and unfamiliar with the ways of the capitol.”

The officer was not moved. “I am sympathetic to your predicament,” she said gravely. “But a demand summons trumps all but an order by one of the twelve peers. You will present yourself to the Marchioness, or you will be detained.” She paused, and looked Demi over carefully. “If you wish, after I escort Mr. Darby to his audience with the Marchioness, I can take you wherever you like.”

Demi smiled and started to speak, but Clarence Darby cut her off.

“Absolutely not!” he said with shrill passion. When he realized the officer was giving him a dead-eyed stare, he panicked again. “What I mean to say is, while the offer is very generous,” he leaned forward to eye her name badge, “Officer Fury — “ he stumbled.

“Flurry,” she answered dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jill Flurry.”

“Officer Flurry,” he said, correcting himself, “Your offer is very generous, but my lordship’s orders were very clear. Lady Serraffield requires,” he paused, apparently debating his next word carefully. At last he said, “Supervision.”

Demi was unable to prevent her eyes from rolling. They did so of their own accord.

Clarence Darby took no notice of her reaction. Officer Flurry’s eyes flicked sideways briefly, making Demi believe that she had seen the eye roll. Demi had already taken a liking to the pint-sized officer who was so big on her responsibilities. Demi didn't want Officer Flurry to come away with the impression that she really was a spoiled, troublemaking princess who required constant supervision, but her eye rolling had been an absolutely unavoidable reflex. Clarence Darby was being sickeningly patronizing. Demi lacked both the ability and the desire to curb her exasperation.

Whatever Officer Flurry’s private thoughts were with regard to Demi’s situation, she kept them to herself, and didn't push back against Darby’s rebuff.

But the equerry was still fretting over other matters.

“What could the Marchioness want with me!?” he lamented, deeply distressed. He looked as if he might be physically ill.

“I’m afraid I am not privy to that information,” the lady officer said, her grim look now totally fixed. She was standing ramrod straight, the summons thrust out in front of her so he was forced to confront it.

Demi did not think that Clarence Darby had expected any sort of reasonable explanation from Officer Flurry. He was simply venting in an attempt to control his anxiety. But she had apparently run out of courtesy for him when he had turned away her offer of assistance. Now she was all business.

Watching Darby fret, Demi almost felt a little bad about things. He was a little obnoxious, certainly, but as far as she knew, he was just following her father’s orders. Demi didn't really want anything bad to happen to him. She just wanted to be rid of him, even if only for a little while. But then she recalled that he had sent Robert Grave packing with an order from her father and she felt slightly less sympathetic. Even if he was just following her father’s orders, he was sort of a jerk.

She didn’t wish him ill, but so long as his life wasn’t in danger and the most he faced was a period of anxiety and discomfort, she would not move to intervene.

(There was little she could do, regardless. She was only an heir, not even a squire yet, let alone a Lord of the Curia.)

Besides, Darby wasn't even good as a tour guide, since he refused to let her stop and look at the things she was interested in. Instead, he hurried her along, as if he had a switch to her heels, and he was so nervous about absolutely everything that it left her feeling exhausted just being in his general vicinity.

She could do with a vacation from Clarence Darby, and she was infinitely grateful to the unknown Marchioness Carter for furnishing that possibility.