Thar Shaddin

Diego gracefully decamped from his seated position with a bow. "Fret not dear cousins. I consider this part of my duty to the family. There are numerous advantages to having a talent for poking holes in one's betters, after all: one such perk is that the sight of one's inferiors passing away poses little threat to the appetite." The assassin presented a blandly amiable expression. "Do please take this opportunity to cover the pleasurable topics of current court fashions, in my temporary absence, so that your learned opinions are not tainted by this exceedingly unfashionable gentleman's indifference."

A moment later Diego had slipped out of the room, having given Costanca a slight 'wait for it' wink unseen by Sarita and Guiomar, and was enjoying a jaunty stroll down to the kitchens when he intercepted the hurried advance of one of the kitchen girls. Diego intercepted her with a broad smile "Ah now, slow down M'dear. No need to do yourself an injury in the name of tonight's repast. I take it there has been some delay?" Diego was a familiar and distinctively dressed enough visitor to Morveres that the main estate staff tended to recognise him with relative ease. The kitchen girl Ines certainly did. "Ah, Don Diego, I apologise, the cook wished to advise that there had been a change in the main course. Some of the ingredients turned out to have staled."

Diego nodded "Never mind that, I shall pass the message on." Ines looked uncertain as to whether she should follow the instructions of the estate cook or a guest. Diego furnished the lass with a justification she could live with "They are having a rather important pre-dinner discussion, and I fear for the well-being of the one who interrupts it. Even I am momentarily cast adrift, no? Let us return to the kitchen, where I shall explain to the cook that you have done your duty, and perhaps return with an appetiser to keep the she-wolves from devouring me, yes? Come along now."

The Morveres estate kitchen were something of a marvel, Diego had to concede. Sarita did like the best things in life when it came down to practical affairs and living requirements. The cook, a bear of a man named Domingo, was surprised to see Ines return so soon, and even more surprised that Diego accompanied her. The assassin explained immediately: "I did not want the poor girl to have her head torn off for interrupting what had turned into a rather private discussion. One which I am also excluded from at present under the pretext of obtaining some appetisers to keep minds sharp and stomachs quiet until the main course is ready. Perhaps a platter of dried fruit and cheese. As a sign of respect for Dona Guiomar we would like to ensure that her favourite fruit is available only to her for the evening, so a single portion." The assassin grinned "She really doesn't like to share." Diego chatted amiably with the kitchen staff, mostly about minor details of foreign estates from his recent trip to Hassele, while the platter was prepared. Diego knew that all this would be reported to Sarita. Ah, what he'd give to catch her face when the reports came in. At least Diego now knew Guiomar preferred spicy stewed pears. Easier on her aging gums, perhaps, with a pleasant kick to the taste. Diego very kindly offered to carry that particular bowl "I need to somehow save myself from her temper, after all; surely you wouldn't deprive a man of that opportunity?"

The cook sent Ines to accompany Diego with the platter, which gave the assassin but a single opportunity to enact his little prank. Pushing the kitchen door open, with Ines trailing him, Diego stepped to the side with his foot propping the door. With the door blocking the view from the kitchen, and his turned body temporarily blocking Ines' view of his hands and the bowl, Diego made his move. A quick manipulation of his needle ring resulted in a single drop of the 'hangover sedative' to fall into the stewed peaches. A moment later, when Ines had passed him, Diego released the door by retreating his foot and gracefully pirouetted to stand alongside her "Come, let us do our duty to cranky women and crankier stomachs." Ines, Diego noted, had the good sense not to laugh at his quip. Sarita really was skilled when it came to hiring good staff.

Diego's eventual reappearance was replete with the mannerism of a butler "Dearest Donas, due to an unforeseen delay in the main course, the kitchen presents its apologies with an appetiser. A platter of dried fruits and cheeses and, for Dona Guiomar, a bowl of stewed peaches cooked according to her strictest specifications." As Ines set her platter down, Diego scooped up the spoon from his own place setting "Now, because we cannot be too careful, I shall ensure that this most precious bowl of peaches has not been maliciously tampered with." In the cautious and stone-faced manner of a food-taster, Diego drank a single spoonful of the steaming liquid, and consumed a small part of a segment of peach. Diego placed the bowl in front of Guiomar with the delicacy of a trained butler then dropped the servant act "Well, I can see that Dona Guiomar is indeed capable of the most refined of tastes. Utterly delightful recipe. And, even better for the Dona and myself, not a drop of poison to be found."

Diego offered a slight bow, then returned to his own seat. The sedative in the peaches, at that dosage, would have almost no effect on Diego. But Guiomar, who had not the resistance to the specialised concoction, would start to feel tired within half an hour to an hour. But it would be when she woke up, with the most horrendous hangover symptoms, that Diego's petty vengeance would be complete. When Ines left, her task discharged, Diego drawled "Well, that was diverting. What did I miss?".

Guiomar watched Diego leave the room with eyes that openly displayed her disdain. Her attention thereafter settled on Costanca's gently waving fan. "Is there a gala you shall be attending?" the Marquesa asked.

The aristocratic accent she used to prey upon her lessers with was most pronounced.

"I am merely overwhelmed by your presence, Illustrious Dona," Costanca sank into a deep curtsey. It didn't even take effort for the accompanying simper. The fan was, once more, shut away and hidden within its discrete pocket.

Guiomar's jowls quavered as she sat back, the sagging skin untroubled by any magical embellishments. Guiomar had nothing against magic, of course, but she liked to remind people of her age. As she'd remarked loudly and often, she had no need of looking the part of a young floozy as so many of her contemporaries seemed to. "Are you quite certain it is assassination that continues to decimate the Senora Costanca's fiances, and not suicides?" The question was addressed to Sarita.

"I must plead apology for the long hours that have kept me from attending your needs," Sarita responded, blithely skipping over the insult before Costanca even had a chance to prepare her returning salvo.

Sarita was never any fun.

"Surely you cannot mean to attend me now." Guiomar sounded marginally more affronted than was her standard fare.

"No, of course not. I merely wish to begin preparation to assist you in the capacity you deserve, Illustrious Dona. I believe you had spoken of your son, Don Ignacio?"

Guiomar eyed Sarita, but chose to accept the bait. "More his estates than his person."

Costanca took a seat, choosing to play demure as soon as she heard the name. Guiomar had dismissed her as meaningless chattel to the conversation, and she gladly would play the part. Gossip was an art form, and Costanca was always in need of more paint.

"The estates of Aljar and Matri?"
"Yes."
"Last I had heard they were running quite smoothly, and producing admirable quantities of trade. What might I be able to assist with?"

Guiomar's face took on an emotion that, had Costanca not been in such polite company, would have caused Costanca to titter behind her fan. She looked ever so ready to boil over.

"The estates formerly belonged to Beatriz, the sister of my sister's husband."

The condesa Beatriz, who had once also held the same rank and estate that Sarita now held. Guiomar was in a snit to drop even the base premise of a title.

Guiomar continued, "Considering Duque Fernandez was heir, and Don Mateo had only managed a daughter, I had suggested the estates should go to my son, Ignacio. Now I find that the child of Mateo's daughter is suddenly poised to take the estate from my boy! It is true that he is yet unwed, but he is not beyond fathering a child! Not to mention my other children." Guiomar's face was graven, her voice seething.

"I beg your pardon, but how do I --"

"It is a Lumbroso ploy. My mother's family has always been friendly to Vbeda, it was why my marriage with Ponc was arranged. However, their precious daughter went to a Lumbroso, and now his family is pushing them to take these estates. I am sure of it. See to it Beltran's branch of the de Morua family is investigated. There are doubtless underhanded dealings there."

"I beg your pardon, but --"

"I am on good terms with my niece, Eluira, and her accompanying titles. Do not treat me the fool, niece. See to it you do not disappoint."

Any further attempts Sarita might have made were silenced by Diego's return. Guiomar continued to give Sarita a baleful stare, and Sarita remained rather oblivious to it. On purpose, Costanca was sure. Guiomar regained control of herself as Diego placed the bowl, and paused in her draconian assault upon Sarita long enough to offer Diego an icy smile. She delicately plucked a stewed peach from the bowl, and ate it slowly. Costanca was rather disappointed her aunt's tirade was over. Diego, however, gave her ample cause to start something new.

"Great Auntie Guiomar was just telling us how close she is to Auntie Eluira," she said. She pushed herself out of her chair in order to partake in the cheese. She had no intention of speaking further, not wanting to be on Guiomar's path of rage, but then the old bitch chose to speak up.

"Have a care, girl, lest you split your corset."

Costanca took two slices of cheese, and chewed them thoughtfully. Almost as an afterthought, smile still sweet and vacuous, she added, "Great Auntie was also telling us about our cousins, Dona Julia and Don Beltran, and their son. Oh, I haven't seen him in ages! Do you remember his name, cousin Diego?"

Ah, what a splendid evening this had turned out to be. Diego truly understood why hunters of the feline persuasion so enjoyed playing with their food at times like this. It seemed Guiomar had continued to be her charming self, if the familiar tension around Sarita's eyes and temple were any indication.

But, as Diego enjoyed the sight of the old she-goat Guiomar eating one of his non-fatal concoctions, dear cousin Costanca showed that she was indeed good at the game. Diego took a moment to reappraise his first impressions from earlier. She certainly knew how to tug on Guiomar's chin-whiskers.

Diego smiled warmly and replied as he pondered the political terrain Costanca had kindly revealed for him. "But of course, Dona Costanca. I hear young Silvestre Beneyto De Morua de Morua has shown much promise. Of course, as Mateo's grandson, nobody should be surprised by this."

It seemed his mother's old estates still proved a thorn in Guiomar's side. But the old bitch would only mention it here if... of course. Diego was now doubly glad he'd plied the harpy with a sedative. So she was here to have Sarita help her fend off cousin Julia. No wonder she was so displeased to have caught sight of her old rival's son. And she was holding Eluira over Sarita's head as a threat, if he read Costanca's earlier comment correctly. Such fun! Diego's smile brightened as he said "I am sure he will bring much fortune to Morua."

By way of thanks, the assassin added. "Might I add, cousin, that my younger eyes can discern the exquisite craftsmanship your clothier has put into the ensemble, preventing any of the aforementioned risks, even if such finer details may be overlooked by aging eyes." Diego's 'I'm helping' smile was back in full force as he continued "Wouldn't it be splendid to invite Donas Julia and Elvira over for one of these most engaging get-togethers? It is so rare for all three of us to be in the same room, but it is such fun when it happens." Last time had been when Eluira was still spymistress and Julia had conflicts to resolve with a Bellezan competitor.

"Oh, yes!" Costanca clapped her hands. Perhaps Diego was not as much a boor as he first appeared, though his love of bloodshed was still terribly scandalous. He would not replace any one of her bosom friends, but he made a convenient and admirably sharp-tongued temporary ally. Besides, Sarita looked fit to pop. Guiomar had reined in the tendrils of her temper to take up the icy facade she was best known for -- such a shame they'd pushed her too far -- and silence took the room with some force.

Costanca was often known to be a chatterbox. She said too much, and hardly anything at all, which was the foundation of her reputation. That she enjoyed being the twit didn't hurt either. Life was dull when you played by the rules, and being proper was so predictable. Though, sometimes even her games carried her beyond the boundaries that had been erected by sisters and mother, and she could feel the lecture building in the quiet breaths of the three other people in the room. Sarita would speak with her later, she knew, but the shade of pink currently adorning dear Auntie Guiomar's cheeks was just too delectable to pass up. Even if said shade of pink was clashing horribly with Guiomar's old-woman green gown. Age was no excuse to be dowdy.

Eight seconds into the silence, Sarita gathered up the various sources of the strained quiet and cut them neatly, setting them aside like so many wilted, thorny roses. Costanca almost frowned; Diego's scent of choice really was pervasive.

"I had some hope that while you were here, Great Aunt Guiomar, that you would appraise some of the raw ore my estate mage has recently acquired. We always heard tales of your accomplishments as a drawstone artificer before you started your pigment quarry."

"I would be delighted, of course," Guiomar said. Her voice was so dry Costanca couldn't imagine how she managed to speak at all without choking.

"Oh, are you talking of the quarry on the Matri lands? Uncle Aluar was telling me about how the Changer's War had affected the Mediterraneus, and how such magically potent deposits such as that one are very rare and useful." Costanca looked as proud as any teacher's pet to correctly relay a learned lesson.

Diego, having had his fun and making the appropriate impression with the social wildcard Costanca, returned happily to a self-confident silence. The assassin was aware Sarita likely did not approve of his tactics but it did not hurt to remind Guiomar, and Sarita, that the old she-goat was not the only crone with both hands in the political pie of Morua.

Instead of engaging in the topic of ore transactions, Diego merely listened carefully and picked at some of the fruit and cheeses. There was an art to twitting his his social 'betters' without overstepping the border between aggravating and outright insulting. Diego would let Sarita handle the rest of the conversation unless a new opportunity for fun arose.

Guiomar, as it turned out, didn't want to talk about the value of the Matri lands, seeing as how it was directly tied to her son and Beatriz's inheritance. Sarita smoothed it over, and without Diego to act as a counter-target Costanca was forced to give it up before she made herself less of a nuisance and more of a problem. Dinner was therefore a thing of boredom, and Costanca could not truthfully remember much of it. She'd made a few attempts at manners, a few pretty words here and there to satisfy Guiomar's opinion of her without overtly being rude, but most of the time stuck in a room with the three others had been spent in a daze. She'd gotten good at zoning out early on, especially once lessons with Uncle Aluar had started. It wasn't that the man didn't know what he was talking about, it was that he was so boring. The only one who had managed to top him thus far was Sarita herself. Truly, if there was anyone who could outbore Sarita, Costanca was sure it would only be on top of a pile of corpses. Bored to death. What a way to go.

As it was, Guiomar had all but stumbled off during the post-dinner repast and light conversation, leaving Costanca mildly surprised. Sarita and Diego were both inscrutable, curse them, which had left her eyeing the servants and wondering what delightful secrets they might be willing to part with given the right kind of persuasion.

Alas, it was not to be.

"Yes," Costanca said as she, Diego, and Sarita stood within Sarita's personal sanctuary. Not even her husband was allowed in without permission – a rule enforced with guards. If the man was not such a limp rag, Costanca was sure his family would have been in an uproar over it. But no, like every thing else in Morveres he seemed to live to obey Sarita's rules. "I understand you've a problem and yes, I can see you're lacking wits to attend the problem yourself. I still don't see why I have to be here."

"I apologize," Sarita said, though Costanca had a very strong suspicion the apology was aimed at Diego.

So, she went for maximum effectiveness with her next word. "Accepted," she said, using much the same tone and intonation as Guiomar might use.

Sarita gave her younger sister a sharp look before looking back to Diego. "In the matter of the Guiate allegations you are free to speak freely in front of Costanca, though I expect you will not discuss the matter with her when not in my presence. The utmost level of family security and any matters dealing with the line of Duques will still take precedence over this statement. Otherwise I expect your discretion in other matters still holds."

Costanca's attention was bought with those words, though she still feigned a level of boredom not even teenagers could easily attain. "I'm tired," she said, her tone plaintive.

Sarita ignored her, focusing on Diego. "My private records room was broken into. It is yet unclear to me how the infiltrator passed the first two points of entry, but the physical and astral defenses on the door appear to have been . . .disarmed without being broken. It is why I was late." She glanced at Costanca before she continued. "How likely is it that this is a retaliatory strike from Guiate or a pre-emptive from a hidden agent here due to mine and Costanca's actions within the estate? I had taken some precautions so that our research would not be recognized for what it was, but it must be considered a possibility."

Costanca's act bled away in bits as the full impact of what had happened hit her. She did not show concern – not even she was that willing to be stupid – but neither did she uphold the mask of indifference. Either Sarita had a turncoat on one of her upper levels of staff (which was a problem, considering that Costanca's advisers had been approved through Sarita, or formerly members of hers), or her security had just been decimated by a possible complete unknown. And why just the three of them? There appeared to be no updated security from her estate guard force, and neither the Captain nor his second had been present anywhere near her rooms. Was she suspecting one of them in this? Were any of them safe?

She wanted to ask, but she had learned the art of playing the innocent and absorbing all the information that could be gained. It was safer.

Diego did well not to show a single hint of the smug satisfaction Guiomar's hasty exit engendered within the assassin. Diego knew Sarita knew. No evidence could be brought to bear, of course, but the spymistress had more than a passing familiarity with Diego's methods. It was a strange form of respect which motivated Diego to withhold from himself the luxury of gloating. And besides all that, the successful application of his own skills under the noses of his peers was satisfying enough to outweigh the tedium of the dinner itself.

It was, however, a relief when the opportunity arose to finally talk business. The location of their meeting told Diego that he could relax some of the social masks in the name of expedient communication. Thus, when Sarita explained the dilemma regarding the intrusion, the assassin dropped his playful manner of speech.

"You do not need me to tell you what kind of trouble that means, Sarita. No matter whom the intruder works for. How was your room sealed? Were there methods of access available which would not require a forced entry: physical or magical?" Needless to say, Diego was not pleased by the news. "It is one thing that the person was competent enough to gain access to your sanctum. Another thing entirely that they knew when and where to look."

Thinking on it further, Diego adjusted his sleeves and stated "It was not a retaliatory strike by the Guiate, at the very least. It is too soon for them to have an opportunity for action. Even if they realised the moment after I left, obtaining immediate access to the resources required for such an admirably precise strike? No. It is beyond their ability to respond so swiftly and infiltrate the heart of Morveres with such profound success. I am more inclined to believe we will need to look closer to home. This reeks of inside knowledge."

Diego added with a smile "Naturally, I imagine you are itching to read over your staff's reports on my activity around the estate today: I invite you to do so. It is easiest to prove my alibi first, no?" And that way Diego would finally get to see if those reports would prove as aggravating to her as he had always hoped.

The assassin was swift to drop the levity and complete his thoughts "Did the old goat Guiomar come alone, or with an entourage? I'm assuming she'd have brought some servants along. Find out if they've been wandering or chatting with the cleaning staff. Guiomar won't be waking until tomorrow, so now is a good time to investigate her tag-alongs. And, to state the obvious, don't let anyone leave the estate. There's a decent probability that the interloper may be hiding in plain sight by having a reason to be here, and an equally valid reason to leave."

Or they might be so powerful they could magically jump about anywhere they pleased, bypassing security measures at a whim... but Diego doubted it. A man with that kind of power wouldn't be fencing in the novices tourney here in Corezo. They'd be plying their trade in the heart of Imperial politics. "If we can determine the means by which they succeeded tonight, we may be able to determine a list of the known talent capable of the feat, or with access to the wherewithal to bypass your security. Treat anyone who tries to leave over the next two days as a suspect." Honestly, if it wasn't one thing in Morua, it was another. Never a dull day.

Nervousness hit Costanca as the question of her safety arose from the conversation. Her whole life had been training for one purpose: to keep her alive long enough to take Burgos. In truth, rather than the flimsy control she held with Aluar smugly countermanding everything she said. It was altogether tiresome to live life with one foot in the coffin, flipping back and forth between depraved hedonism and proper young lady depending on circumstance. “Am I in danger?” She asked the question automatically, after having been shuffled about for the last several years in order to avoid whatever dangers lurked in the shadows. She was well used to such matters being about her.

Sarita’s expression softened, though not by much. It was such a small movement that Costanca couldn’t be sure if it was genuine or not; her own certainly didn’t shift to match it. Whatever affections she held for those few women in her innermost circle, she certainly wasn’t about to show it in front of a man and what amounted to a – well, a servant. Sarita shook her head, and Costanca looked back in the direction of the breached doors. They were well away from there. The possibility of someone infiltrating to plant a means of eavesdropping was certainly valid.

Sarita’s attention turned back to Diego. “Each of the entrances and exits are a little different, of course; this was triple layered. First was the sealant, made of binding paint. The key ingredient was from an Apthoni variety of the blackgrove vine, highly steeped in energies from the astral plane. It is keyed into one of my pieces of jewelry. If I am not present while the doors are opened it pulses against my skin. That piece is now dead; it does not react to the door as it should. The seal has been dissolved, somehow, without triggering the attached enchantment. Next is the locks themselves – standard things, and only I have the key. The last is a barrier. Standard thing; a mage is hired to create the barrier, ties off the energies and attaches them to me. I have records of all craftsmanship; the seal was painted by the estate mage. The other is one of my mother’s retainers.

“I have already cleared you, Diego, and Costanca; did you think I would sit through dinner without that knowledge? Guiomar herself, too, has an alibi. She always takes one lady with her for companionship, and two of her favorite footmen; they double as guards. I do not yet know what has been disturbed. Without canceling dinner there was no way to look through the information –“

“So I’m not in danger then,” Costanca said, her tone of voice returning to its previous levels of flippancy. “Does this mean I can go to bed?”

“May I remind you of where you are?” Sarita’s demeanor lost any semblance of warmth, and she stared at Costanca until the other folded her arms defensively and looked away. “It might concern you, and it might not. Until we know, I will be putting a guard on the inner door of your rooms.”

Costanca pouted.

“Senor Diego. I might need an outside eye to check for any sorcerous signatures. I trust you to complete a report on the physical evidence. The estate mage – Provedi , I am so used to their rotations I hardly bother to learn their names – is one of the Eyropan Astral Covey. They have a standard rotation schedule, as I’m sure you know, to prevent any one of them from . . .illness.”

“You mean the witch’s malady,” Costanca interjected. She was staring moodily at one of the paintings in the sitting room, fingers toying with the fan in its pocket. It was a childish way to act, she knew, but they hardly left her any choice.

“There is no need to be rude,” Sarita said. “We have purchased the standard triumvirate. Provedi, Dioneo, and Aregund. While they are on—“

“Witch’s asylum,” Costanca said in sing-song.

“respite,” Sarita continued, ignoring Costanca, “I make it a point to have purchased their own villa where they are carefully watched. I won’t pretend it isn’t dangerous, but as nearly all of my communications regarding trade use the standard Covey formula I must keep one of my own on staff. All the important conveyances are in my or Dona Eluira's code. Seeing as how it is magic they train their members in from a young age, it is impossible to do business without them. Their access in Morveres is severely restricted, as you know.

“I do have a retainer on staff whose loyalty I trust, but as magic users of her caliber and capabilities – “

“Ones who have enough power to be useful but aren’t completely mad?”

Sarita’s lips tightened, nearly imperceptibly, but she continued on. It was almost admirable how dedicated she was to ignoring Costanca’s outbursts. Then again, she supposed Sarita knew from their childhood together that retorting would only lead to worse. “—are difficult to find, and more difficult to prove loyal, she is presently on her own assignment in the south. Her second is assisting one of our cousins in a delicate matter. I am open to suggestions.”

“Have Provedi look at it,” Costanca said with a shrug.

“Provedi’s loyalties are and will always be to the Covey, no matter how friendly and harmless he may appear.” Sarita’s tone was dismissive, and she turned her attention back to Diego.

Diego's lips threatened to twitch into a smirk at Costanca's question, but the assassin held back the quip which presented itself. Instead, Diego turned his attention to Sarita's explanation of the measures the interloper had successfully bypassed. To give credit where credit was due, this seemed to be the work of a professional with access to a sorcerous skillset Diego somewhat envied. Bypassing magical seals with such delicacy was no simple thing. Unless it was achieved by the person who set the seal in the first place. But with two separate mages involved, one of which belonged to cousin-in-law Taresa, that could be partially ruled out.

Diego fiddled with a sleeve as he said curtly "Naturally I don't suspect the old Morcillo bitch of having dirtied her own hands directly, but I would not rule her tagalongs out entirely. It would also be difficult to for one of the estate mages to be compromised if watched that carefully. However, though magic is a wildcard in any equation, one can always count upon the reliability of human motivations. I suggest what is already no doubt on your mind: spending our principle efforts on discovering what has gone missing or been disturbed in the room accessed. For a strike of this precision and indubitable expense to the instigator, the information or item sought must be time-sensitive and extremely valuable or important to an external party." Diego allowed himself a small smile "I'm sure that narrows it down quite a lot."

Sarita and Costanca had their exchange regarding mages, but Diego merely nodded at Sarita's instruction. "I shall take a look at the room as soon as you are ready. Once I have seen if anything significant presents itself there, I shall then start covering the estate. An examination of the lock, at the very least, will give me an indication as to how advanced their skills are with a pick. But I emphasise our priority must be to determine the intruder's target. It looks like a long night for yourself and myself, cousin."

Having noted Costanca's tendency to waste the time of those around her, when feeling overworked or in her fits of petulance, Diego added "Might I suggest that Dona Costanca be given leave to retire for the night, with your most reliable guards posted. Just in case the intruder's task isn't finished." The assassin smiled casually "It is not uncommon in my art to use a supposed break-in to divert attention away from the true task at hand. Sometimes it is harder to find evidence of an assassin when searching for traces of a thief. As to the question of magic, perhaps you should get a message to your retainer in the south, seek a reference for a mage who may be able assist with this rather delicate matter." Diego's brow furrowed slightly in thought "Sorceries are naturally not my forte. But, if we do find a suspect, I can at least assure you their compliance in the provision of any information we might require, if given access to your apothecary's stock." Diego, having said his piece, waited for Sarita's decision and for her to lead him to the violated room in question.

Costanca knew the look before she was graced with it. She wasn't as tired as all of that, but she had her fun playing with Sarita's buttons; she'd discounted Diego's own and now she would be sent off to bed like a bad little girl for her troubles. Of course, before they got into anything really good she'd have been sent off, as Sarita did so love all of her secrets. She nodded as Sarita opened her mouth, stepping closer to her sister to plant a small kiss on her cheek. Sarita showed no sign of surprise at Costanca's easy capitulation, and returned the kiss.

"Good evening, Senora Costanca."

"Have fun, sister," Costanca replied with a nod. She gave a small curtsey to Diego. It was more than he deserved, her own acknowledgement of how he had cut through her play without flinching. Sarita did keep the best. "Senor Diego, I bid you good night."

Once the social niceties had been taken care of, Costanca strolled out of Sarita's haven without any evident care in the world.

It was just like her. Sarita watched her until she disappeared from beyond the doors, knowing that her guards would (or should, though the events of the night had brought much into question) ensure she left without getting any ideas into her head about eavesdropping. She waited, still, counting seconds until she could be sure Costanca had left the immediate area and would not see them exiting the room. In her line of work, paranoia served only too well. A lesson Solana had, evidently, learned in spades.

"Follow," she said, and left the room. She did not speak to Diego's suggestion, though she did give him a small nod.

Sarita took them deeper into her wing, through the study and to the east hall where the majority of mundane items were kept. Sarita did not organize by level of secrecy, preferring to mix in order to confuse priority as much as possible. She halted at the double doors, indicating the locking mechanism as well as the two points where guards typically stood.

"The entrance into my private quarters, my bedchamber, the east and the west hallway are guarded at all times. Guards are rotated every four hours. I have a list of names for you in the actual room. All the guards who were on duty claimed to the Captain that they saw and heard nothing, though I have not had the chance to interview them myself. If you desire to inspect this lock you may, though I do not believe it has been picked. Myself, the captain of my personal guard, and my majordomo each have the key. None have reported it as stolen."

Not that it needed to be stolen to be used. Sarita watched Diego for any of his small tells, though she doubted he was tired enough to display his thoughts.

Diego followed Sarita, and made careful note of her words. The assassin stared at the door, thoughts flashing back and forth like blades in a duel. Three keys. None reported as stolen. The likelihood of either majordomo or captain of the guard being compromised from an outside influence was low. Sarita would have investigated that already. Diego wasn't an expert on magic, but it seemed that someone who specialised in countering magical seals may not necessarily have the same skillset for the physical lock - and besides, how would they know where to look or what defences were to be expected without inside knowledge? The entire scenario stank of treachery.

How would he do it, were he given the unenviable task of infiltrating Morveres with the promise of magical assistance? It was a conundrum. Diego's face was a rigid mask of concentration as he factored in all that he knew of the estate and its habits. Gossip was gossip was gossip. It was inevitable that staff would have some inkling that certain rooms were magically warded, that would not help narrow things down. Diego took a physical step away from the door and a mental leap away from the close-in perspective of the problem.

That the target was a records room meant that the infiltrator wanted information; therefore this had been a political or economic maneouvre. Diego approached the problem from a new angle, starting with the large circle of political engagement, to then work in along the lines of attack. Assume Belleza or Quijas for the sake of argument. No limit on resources if the cause was strong enough. Even the best of their agents would need to find a weak link in Morveres. And every assassin or spy in Corezo knew that the weak links were inevitably people. People with problems they could not solve themselves.

Diego trusted Sarita to screen her staff properly, meaning the traitor may not have, or ever had, formal ties with one of Morua's enemies. Which narrowed down the probability to compulsion. The well-planned nature of the strike, including the possible tampering with one of the three keys to the room, suggested the traitor's free-willed compliance over magical domination. Certainly, Diego would find it difficult and overly expensive to hire enough magical talent to break seals and engage in the comparatively rare art of magical domination over men's minds. Blackmail would be more cost-effective, all things considered.

Diego scratched his chin, brow furrowed. It would have to be one hell of a blackmailer, and impressive blackmail material, to pressure one of the Morveres staff. All knew the price for betrayal from a commoner was torture until death. The torture was a pragmatism, to try and ensure any and all information regarding the betrayer and their associates was uncovered. Death was merely a mercy, and a way to cut costs on prisoner maintenance once all information had been wrung from the unfortunate fool whose loyalties had slipped. As Sarita didn't employ fools, that meant a significant motivation would have been required to compromise her staff. Threat to family perhaps, or to a loved one. But even getting the threat delivered to the traitor would take finesse.

After lengthy deliberation, Diego spoke up, his tone terse "Whilst we cannot discount magic at every step of the way, it seems too expensive and overt a solution to the problem of robbing Morveres. This required inside knowledge. The lock is too complex to pick without there having been some sign of it, I believe, unless we have both Traitor, Mage, and Master Thief all working together - but having two strangers in Morveres at a single time without anyone noticing is rather unfeasible. Were this my task, I'd have sourced a weak link among your staff, created a line of blackmail to compel them to reveal the secrets of the estate's defenses so that I could plan a likely time and method of infiltration."

The assassin folded his arms, drumming the fingers of his right hand "But that's barely the foundation of a plan. I would require the traitor to supply details of the staff routines, were possible, and to steal a key long enough to get an imprint of it in clay so that a copy could be forged ahead of time." Diego grimaced slightly "And yet unless by fortune one key is particularly dirty, or the traitor was overzealous when cleaning and left the copied key significantly more polished than its twins, I would still have no way of being sure which key was taken and returned. But we should take a look anyway."

Diego returned to his thesis "Assuming I got my casting of the key, engaging a skilled locksmith to duplicate it would prove no obstacle to me at all. So that's the door taken care of, leaving only the wards. Now, Seal-breaking is a very expensive talent to go hiring, and those who do such work in clandestine fashion are naturally very secretive. So we are looking at either talent belonging directly to the instigator, or a mercenary. Now if I were, say, a Bellezan examining this dilemma, I would not use a Bellezan mage. I would in fact go out of my way to ensure that any of my mages known for that ability had a damn good alibi for the entire week surrounding the event by ensuring they had easily reported work at the time. I would instead extend gentle inquiry along certain shadowy paths that I was interested in obtaining the services of someone specialising in bypassing or disrupting magical seals." Diego smiled dryly "Regrettably, as the job is so recent, anybody trying to make a similar request now, especially from Morua, is likely to receive misdirections rather than a warm trail to the culprit. These people are pedantic about covering their tracks, and for good reason. But it is something to keep in mind for later"

Diego snapped out of his stillness and rubbed his hands together "Well, that's pretty much how I'd do it, Dona. Find a likely blackmail victim, turn the screws, get information and a key impression, hire a reliable mage to perform the task, and make a precision strike at a time when the guards are changing or there is some kind of social gathering in which a stranger is less likely to be recognised. Preferably one where I'd have a personal alibi for the week." Diego straightened his sleeves "If my scenario is in any way correct, the weak link which let the enemy into your sanctum will be the weak link to start us along the rapidly cooling trail to the enemy."

Diego wasn't one for social niceties when it came down to his real business, something Eluira had found entertaining in the privacy of their discussions, but which seemed to prove a bit more irksome to the current Spymistress "You will need to find out if any of the staff have family or lovers in difficulty. It is likely best to try and get the staff gossip on the topic without actually starting any formal interrogations. Loose tongues talk longer. When you have a likely suspect or two, give me access to the apothecary's office, and I'll personally wring out any information from them that there is to be had." Having covered the important details, Diego added without a trace of humour "I would also change all your locks and think carefully about how you and your staff store the keys. That this infiltration was apparently successful constitutes an embarrassment to Morveres and to House Morua. I'd say the same thing to Ramiro about his 'secret' office in the wine cellar, but I don't believe in educating likely traitors. Finally: the sooner we get a mage in to examine the lock for magical tampering, the better."

The chin scratch was not reassuring. Still, Sarita remained well composed and silent, playing the part of the all-knowing mistress even when things seemed to fall apart around her. That was what it meant to be Dona, to be Spymistress. Any who took on power, who took on the mantle of responsibility could be expected to do the same: men and women took their cues from those who were, theoretically, in charge.

"I concur," she said to his first statement. Besides the expensive nature of finding a magic-user whose talents fell along the very specific path needed for this very specific crime, the more magic one used, the easier a mage trained to follow it could sniff it out. Not that those mages were particularly common, either; given the nature of the world's interaction with the astral plane, almost nothing could be relied upon all the time. It was what one had to put up with in the interest of progress, Sarita supposed. It was why she'd always favored enchantments, herself: they were there when you needed them, and time did not change their power or efficiency in the job they had been purchased for.

Everyone knew the unreliability of mages. Time and experience, in that field, was more likely to be a detriment than a boon.

She listened with intensity as he continued speaking, finding the sense in his words. This was why he was one of Eluira's favorites, and why Salvador continued to breathe. The man knew too many secrets to maintain his health, but his ability to train young men and women into the soldiers that formed Morua's most secret army was second to none. An evil necessity.

Her mind flitted away from that idle thought towards the members of her staff who had the access to perform such feats. It pointed towards those who she counted among her personal staff, those who were allowed near the things that Morveres had been built to protect. It was a blow, no matter whether or not blackmail had been involved. Surely it must be something dastardly, indeed, that they would risk her wrath by sneaking about rather than bringing it to her or her majordomo. Unless her majordomo was the problem. She steeled herself. Traitors were almost a given. Trust was a premium, and there was never any real certainty about one's intentions.

His bluntness, so close to dropping off the cliff's edge and into crass rudeness, set a nettle under her bottom. She tried not to allow its prickling discomfort, opting for the veneer of civil severity. Truly, she had let so much slip while Solana had been present. The woman had wormed her way into Sarita's security while Sarita had been focused upon the safety of her family. It had been Solana who had interacted most regularly with the lesser staff. Solana who had given her endless reports and lectures about how unsuitable half the staff was. What was embarrassing wasn't that the event had happened, but that Sarita had set herself up for it to happen by allowing one person to become so indispensable. Yet, allowing someone to pick off members of the Ducques family was, also, unacceptable. She could only imagine what Eluira would say when she heard about it.

She still had the last of Solana's reports, as well as the appropriate family background on each of her employees. That would not be enough, of course. Discreet questions would need to be asked. It things went well, Diego would soon be on his way down into the heat of the far south, across the sea, which left her fewer servants to rely upon – she would not send him alone. She had her mage, at the least, and apologies and measures to account for that bit of reversal. She smiled politely at Diego. "You will have the keys and a list within an hour's time to accompany the names of the guards on duty."

It was time, in turn, for her to keep proper tabs on her staff and their families. She had gotten complacent. Worse, she had gotten sloppy.

Wordlessly, she used her key and opened the east hall. Without acknowledging Diego, she strode down to the door that had been stripped of wards. She looked back down the hall. "This is the room, if you care to inspect it. If not, I shall see you in the morning, Senor."

Her smile turned grim. She would have to use a servant who could be easily cleared of the crime, though that would, at this hour, take a good deal more of intuition than actual knowledge. Still, she was Morveres' keeper. Being seen walking about so late at night, not to mention giving something to one of her male guests, was even more dangerous a risk than placing her trust in a single servant. She could not afford to run about like a panicked child.

"Rest soundly, Dona Sarita. Sleep is the oil which helps keep rust from one's mind, and we will all need you at your sharpest when the dawn cockeral crows. Have the list for me when I see you in the morning. My work is not yet done for the night, and having some lackey interrupting me with a list at this time of night will prove detrimental." Diego did, of course, perform a cursory inspection of the room. But he knew it would be fruitless. The assassin felt no disappointment when the room revealed only that it was a records room. It would take one intimately familiar with its contents and the filing system to be able to discern if the records had been tampered with or moved in any fashion.

It was not yet bedtime for Diego, though he did visit his room briefly. Hidden within the false bottom of his travel pack was a small kit containing the equipment the assassin needed for several poisonous and herbal concoctions. Diego would need a dose of his special tonic, a secret recipe carefully blending several normal herbs and some toxics into an infused tisane guaranteeing him wakefulness for the coming day. It would need an hour or two to settle, which was perfect for the second part of his task. If Sarita wasn't going to start gathering gossip straight away, Diego was not fool enough to let a moment more be wasted. Besides, he maintained a reputation of rakish, eccentric, and inappropriate behaviour for a damned good reason.

A leisurely stroll brought Diego to the kitchen where Domingo and his staff were still busy cleaning and preparing some of the ingredients for the next day's courses. If there was one critical piece of knowledge for a spy, it was that the kitchen staff and the cleaning staff formed the tower and wheel of any estate's rumour mill. The kitchen of a large estate in particular was rarely empty of staff, which usually formed a day and night shift. Diego had prepared the guise of 'tipsy nobleman' carefully: he washed wine around his mouth to taint his breath and dabbed some like cologne on his neck; his collar was loosened and askew, and his hair slightly ruffled. When Diego rapped sharply on the door frame, his face wore a genial and slightly vague expression, as if his focus was partially elsewhere. Diego knew it had worked when Domingo's slightly slumped shoulders and momentary glance away to hide what was likely a rolling of exasperated eyes. No cook liked drunken nobles cluttering their kitchen.

"Good evening all! I have come to offer my compliments to the kitchen, both for dinner and for the bowl of peach armour with which I staved off Dona Guiomar's sharp tongue. Every spoonful was both affirmation of your cooking and a moment of blessed silence. I thank you for it." Diego knew all this would be reported to Sarita as well. Domingo took his responsibilities to the estate seriously. "But would you believe it? Apparently they've all been so busy that all but I have retired to bed early." Diego stepped away from the door frame with a slight weave to his step before he caught himself and held himself upright with all the dignity of someone who was actually drunk. "Which means that I am bereft of an audience for the latest scandals out of Belleza." Domingo did not look too pleased that Diego planned on lingering in his kitchen, but Diego could see that half the kitchen had perked their ears up the moment he let the phrase 'scandals' escape his lips. It was like offering sweets to children.

Diego started rambling on for a bit about some of the rumours out of Belleza, to get the discussion going and slowly build the right atmosphere. A couple of gentle nudges here, and suggestive questions there, and Diego had turned the conversation to Moruan scandals. Diego covered the latest gaffs by Guiomar's son Ignacio, and within half an hour Diego was delighting in some of inconsequential gossips of the Morveres estate. "...no, really? But I tell you, that is nowhere near as scandalous as when I accidentally walked into the cleaner's room in the Guiate household and found them, shall we say, mid affection? I will not describe it, for modesty's sake, but their inventiveness in the space provided made even I blush." At least two of the staff had vivid imaginations, if the faint hint of actual blushed gave any indication "Honestly though, I swear my dear cousins surround themselves with the most restrained people. Kissing in corners is not gossip, m'dears. You know how I find myself a good scandal? Worried people. After all, a man can't gossip without something to gossip about. But finding gossip is tricky unless you know the tricks!" Diego winked at Ines, who was cleaning pots quietly with a smile.

Domingo, for his part, spent his time giving orders to his staff to ensure their chatter didn't affect their work. The poor man was also trying to remember everything Diego was saying. It would prove a difficult task, because the assassin was deliberately overloading the cook's memory with verbosity and tales of astounding scandal from external estates - Diego knew the cook would not spend near as much time remembering what his own staff were saying in return. Diego wondered how Sarita would take some of his merry and raunchy fictions when delivered from the unimaginative mouth of Domingo.

But the conversation had, as Diego had hoped, turned to a discussion of 'who looked the most worried' on the Morveres estate, alongside some juicier gossip. Sarita featured, of course, as did Guiomar, though the staff were circumspect with their verbal assessments of the Donas while the cook and Diego were present. They were not so concerned about their fellow staff though, who were apparently considered fair game. "...you want worried? Garcia has been worried ever since I lied to him and told him I had missed this month's cycle. That will teach him to spend time with the tavern doxies, no?" With each new tale the kitchen staff became more relaxed in the atmosphere of work and casual gossip, and an hour later Diego had a couple of strong possibilities to share with Sarita.

The kitchen girls knew that one guard, Sancho, had recently borrowed money from other guards though having never shown sign of gambling or whoring. A cleaning girl, Mencia, had apparently grown somewhat withdrawn over the past month and had been very boring to work with - nobody knew why. When the gossip turned back to the mundane, Diego did not need to feign a tired yawn when granting Domingo a reprieve from his presence. Saying his goodnights and goodbyes, Diego made a good-natured request that someone knew to rouse him at dawn "...lest Dona Sarita flay the hide from my flesh for gossiping so much I missed breakfast. I like my hide intact, so please!" Domingo promised he would make the arrangements with the morning cleaners.

Diego left the kitchen with only a few hours remaining before dawn. The assassin knew that with a couple hours of sleep, a wakeup call and his tonic, he would be fine for the following day. So long as he got a proper night of rest the following evening, he'd suffer few ill effects. And to think, some people spent their lives shuffling paperwork and sleeping away half their lives. Diego hoped to one day perfect his tonic so that he could waste less time sleeping. Sleeping seemed so pointless, despite his earlier advice to Sarita, when that time would be much better spent on anything else at all. Still, it wasn't perfect yet, so Diego would get his rest.

Domingo was as good as his word, and Diego was roused at dawn by a cautious knocking. The assassin called out "I am awake! Pass on my thanks to Senor Domingo" then forced his mind to actual wakefulness. A moment later, Diego was seated on the edge of his bed blinking the sleep from his eyes. The assassin ran one hand over his face and stirred his tonic with the other. It was a bitter liquid barely made drinkable by using wine for the infusion. The rush of it past his palate and down his throat were as good as a splash of cold water on his face. Within half an hour Diego had washed, dressed, and let a stroll in the brisk morning air freshen him while his tonic began to work its wonders properly. When the bell for breakfast rang, it was an energetic and focused Diego who answered its call to the dining room.

Sarita did not reply. She nodded, and waited for him to finish and leave her wing before she went about her own tasks. There were records to look through. Indeed, she lit all of the lamps within the room after Diego had been set free to do his work, and she thought about what information would be most delicious for others to get their pretty fingers in. They had known it was there. Sarita considered the accounts that were as good as public knowledge, the dealings she had and the reports she received. She had no idea, of course, what the thief had been after. Everything in the room was fairly recent, though she did sit down to make a list of the things unimportant or harmless enough to not be likely.

Diego had not wanted his list during the night, which left her some time to sweep the records. While this room was not so full as any of the archives, it still disturbed Sarita greatly that they had known which room. What was more, there had been no tampering with any of the other doors. It was this one. That raised more questions for her, such as how much time the magethief had procured for himself; even should the person have slipped in while the guards were what – changing? Distracted? She frowned and made a mental note to see if there had been any small incidents the day previous that would have accounted for her men and women so haphazardly inviting dereliction of duty. Assuming, of course, it was not one of the guards who was the traitor.

The thought, as usual, was a stab to the gut. She set her jaw and continued scanning the reports she knew should be there. If the magethief only went to this room because there was not enough to lead a false trail, what did that mean? For starters, it could mean only the room itself was known, but not the exact location. It was not a pleasant sensation, this direct cut into her most private sanctuary. It was as if someone had torn away her garments and left her scandalously exposed. It was uncomfortable, and shameful.

It was also daunting. She had set a candle to measure the passage of time, and three hours past when she had started saw her reluctantly leaving off what she was doing. She had a list of which records she'd gone through, as well as which she wanted her own mage to look over. Thus far, everything had been accounted for. Still, she was not perturbed yet; there was several hours more to look for and this time she knew she'd have to look through it herself. Costanca would simply have to forgive her her rudeness, however, for she could not allow word to get out that something pressing had turned out. Costanca would need to carry on her whining out of sight – the rumors that Costanca had found herself in some sort of scandal, again, had been deliberately seeded so as to prevent more interesting gossip. The staff was well used to Sarita digging up ways to help her sister – so that the more pressing matter did not leak.

Sarita certainly did not expect to spend all of her nights on this one matter. Important as it was, there were other responsibilities to attend to at night. Daily reports. Field reports. Memorization of circumstances, of names and positions of new players, of who was pregnant, who had died, who had given birth. Memorization of these things had never come easy to Sarita. She had to work at it. She had to study that which had been her birthright, and then ever-so-carefully lay out her plans and movements. She grimaced as she finished putting the room back the way she had found it, wondering if perhaps she should have waited for the mage to arrive. There was simply too much up in the air at the moment for her to trust in that day coming, and with Solana's situation at stake . . .

She blew out the lamps and took the candle with her down the hall and into another room. Within the room was a door leading to a smaller room; Solana's meticulously kept records of Sarita's staff. Her private staff was her immediate concern, and it was easy enough to separate those records. It was nice that most of those individuals came from solid backgrounds with families that were wise enough to scatter their holdings so that no one of their own trade accounts could cripple them. Compared to what Sarita knew, almost all of those were still safe. She put them aside.

What she was left with were a few of those files, and six others. Eleven files in total of her private staff: people who were allowed into her suite of rooms. Some of them were even allowed into the West and East Halls. Even if they were always supervised, a clever person would take note of what went into those rooms. After all, even records rooms needed to be cleaned every so often. The records themselves sometimes needed to be checked for rot, though that duty had fallen to four people: her Majordomo, herself, Solana and one of the Majordomo's chief aides. Sarita made a note of that, wondering with a sick stomach if her Majordomo had gotten sloppy. Or the aide. Had one of them perhaps become tired with the task, and recruited additional help without her knowledge?

Sloppy. She had spent too much time focusing outwards of Morveres, and not enough time attending her staff.

Besides the eleven files she felt had the least secure resources, she picked up another additional three files of people she would suspect of, perhaps, being pulled into records duty. Another sweep through all of the files, and she added four more from the general staff; familiarities Sarita had noted between her private staff and the general that might have lead to some gossip. Which, of course, really meant that she had to go through her general staff to account for any gossip passing all the way down. One could not stop people from talking. One simply had to stay ahead of the knowledge. A lesson learned too late. Sighing, she combed through the general staff and came up with ten more names. It would have to do.

Candle in hand, she finally went to her personal bedchambers. It was not unheard of for her to haunt her suite late at night, or to stay up past the point of propriety, which was the sole reason why her two lady's maids shared a small room just in past the entrance of her suite. At the least, these two were solidly within the safe camp (Solana had seen to that, after going through a countless number of possibilities for the position; Eluira's women had gone with her). They were summoned, and they helped Sarita from her dress, collected the pins from her hair and braided it into a neat queue for sleeping. Not that Sarita intended to sleep just yet. The two young ladies were dismissed, and Sarita turned now to her own private, daily chores.

Senor Diego had spoken of sleep. Yes, Sarita acknowledged, it was important. Too bad she almost never got enough of it. But, luckily for her, she was used to the deficit and knew how to keep herself going without appearing fatigued. Really, it would never do for a Dona of her status to go about looking as if she was so common as to appear tired.

She smiled.

Costanca awoke the next day fresh as a daisy that had been the recipient of a terrible downpour and then had mud spattered all over it. Really, why should she even get out of bed? They had to visit Aunt Eluira, and though she was better than their Great Aunt, it wasn't by an appreciable enough margin for Costanca to look forward to it. Oh, Costanca knew her role well enough. There was a part she had to play, except all she had gotten from it was a sharp reprimand from her dear sister that Costanca owed her after the years Sarita had put into keeping Costanca safe.

How boring.

Still, with many sighs and eyerolls she allowed herself to be woken and pushed and prodded into clothing suitable for the occasion. Her hair was pulled and pinned into a proper shape, and her gown was a shade she never chose for herself. What was it Sarita had said? She must not look gaudy? It was enough to raise a headache, really. Still, she smiled prettily at her lady's maids and found small things to compliment them on; if there was one thing Costanca knew it was never to get on the bad side of one's servants. That was something, at least, she had over Uncle Aluar in their quiet, ongoing war.

She spent a pleasant hour taking tea (handily spiked with cantueso to blend with the already floral taste of the brew, and sweetening it nicely. Costanca adored sweet things) without anyone but her personal lady's maid for company. The two gossiped over trivialities, mostly new things learned in Morveres about several of the young women Costanca typically got into trouble with, as well as talk over the new debutantes who would debut once spring matured and the Season started. It was very diverting, and relaxed her from the tension that had built over the nightmare of the past week.

So she was chipper as they gathered for the morning's breakfast, even going so far as to kiss her sister on the cheek and dip into a curtsey for Guiomar and a small dip for cousin Diego. She almost criticized his choice of clothing, but Sarita's utterly composed and serene demeanor made her decide against it; she knew what that particular blend of expressions meant. She listened in to what they were saying, instead, choosing to play the decoration she was so often assumed to be.

"We will be leaving shortly for a visit to the Dona Eluira, Aunt Guiomar, which means I dearly hope we shall be able to meet on the morrow, at your convenience. Your patience has been ever so greatly appreciated."

Costanca wondered, idly, if Sarita ever got tired of all the ass kissing.

"I believe I am at your disposal, niece," Guiomar replied with such graciousness that Costanca could only look away to hide her snicker. Oh, the old bitch was certain to make Sarita pay in full for having any other concerns besides Guiomar's own overblown ego. It was a quiet wonder no one had managed to off her, yet.

Diego had to admit Guiomar was as tough as the old leather she resembled. It was slightly disappointing not to see her reduced to a shambling hung-over wreckage, but it was worth the effort to know the strength of her willpower. The toxin she had ingested the previous evening would be expressing itself in the most atrocious of migraines. Adding to that curse would be an unsettled stomach and nausea. Still, it seemed the effort of hiding her discomfort stripped her of the motivation to be a complete thorn in people's sides this morning, which was a pleasant reward to Diego's effort.

Breakfast arrived and, as per tradition, was short on quantity but not stinting on quality: a large flat cut of freshly baked bread was seasoned with a dribble of olive oil infused with dried tomato. Spread on that was freshly crushed tomato and some lightly cooked ham. The servants placed the breakfast platters along with the morning beverages then left the nobles to their privacy. Though the breakfast was small, it was so as to leave room for the early afternoon feast known in Eyropa as a 'Corezan Lunch'. The term was synonymous with 'sumptuous feast' and even now the daytime cook and kitchen staff would be busy preparing both the lunch and the mid-morning tapas platters designed to keep hunger at abeyance until lunch was served.

Diego waited until after Guiomar's exchange with Sarita to commence his own assault. He let his voice carry at a volume significantly louder than his habit: it was not a shout, per se, but a carefully projected enthusiasm. "But look on the bright side: though it cannot match the three of you, the sun is out in full glory! It will be a wonderful day for a ride!" A pronounced twitch to the muscles on Guiomar's face were enough to confirm the old she-goat was indeed suffering a special kind of hell from his poison. Diego decided to rub some salt in while he had the chance "It will be so good to see dear cousin Eluira." Diego grinned and added to Costanca "You may get to try the Semerkhet coffee after all, Dona Costanca, as Dona Eluira maintains a supply." A supply gifted by Diego himself, in fact.

The assassin was enjoying himself. If Guiomar was trying to use his previous employer Eluira for political leverage against his current employer Sarita, as Diego suspected from last night's dinner, it would be lovely to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. Especially now it was confirmed Diego was going to see cousin Eluira. Diego and Eluira had a history together reminiscent of a particularly ferocious tango: there was a connection there, and the nature of it had remained well hidden behind a veil of the utmost discretion. While Costanca and Sarita may also be termed his 'cousins', the truth was that if Pascual had been his brother and not his cousin, the assassin would be calling the two younger Donas 'Niece'. Circumstances being what they were, though, at least calling them 'cousin' allowed the assassin to feel a decade or so younger.

Diego continued his enthusiastic assault on Guiomar's headache and confidence "If only we could add cousin Julia into the reunion. Then it would be a truly joyous occasion! Especially when they inevitably take out the Baraja and start laying down the cards. It is hard to take a trick against them in La Mano Conquista." The assassin personally believed that Guiomar's visit to Sarita was largely due to her not having enough leverage over Eluira to justify convincing the retired spymistress to act against cousin Julia. Eluira was not one who appreciated the notion of letting incapable people hold titles, and Ignacio was more incompetent than most.

The question of Solana was one thing, Diego mused: Sarita definitely needed something concrete to convince Eluira to go against the judgement already handed down. But in the ongoing political battle over whether Guiomar's maladjusted offspring Ignacio or Julia's bright young scion Silvestre were granted Beatriz' old estates? That was a different matter entirely, and Guiomar would need to have a deucedly strong hand to get Eluira on side with her scheming. Especially as Diego knew Eluira always held a surprise trump or two. Guiomar would undoubtedly know it too.

All in all, Diego mused as the old woman tried to glare daggers at him - even the exertion of tensing the muscles for a glare likely aggravated the scheming crone's headache - the past fortnight had shown a rather entertaining twist of events. The assassin suspected that Guiomar's visit to Sarita was an act of desperation in order to gain a trump of her own. She'd use Morcillo resources alone if cousin Julia and her canny husband Beltran didn't already have the upper hand. Diego assumed Sarita would be aware of the political terrain involved, but he'd know for sure when they visited Eluira. The assassin wondered idly how many food-tasters cousin Julia had needed to replace or hire healers for recently.