Mont shifted irritably and said, “So it’s not unique. Who cares if it’s not unique? It doesn’t have to be unique to be bad.”
“Well put,” Shaa said. “There are few situations these days that are truly unique, if indeed there ever were. What gives any situation its individual character are the personalities involved and the nature of one’s own personal stake. Thus it is that we come to the matter at hand, in which the major issue is your personal stake. Yes?”
“I guess so. It’s gotta be my stake, I’m the only one left. They’re my family. I can’t just let them rot.” Jurtan mumbled something else beneath his breath.
“What was that?” Shaa said. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that last bit.”
Mont’s voice wasn’t much louder the second time. “... I said I wish I was more of the rescuing type.”
“Is there a rescuing type?” Shaa mused. “You may not be that type, yet, whatever it is, but you do have the makings of another, more useful type.”
“What’s that?”
“The intelligent type. Which is to say that you’re apparently smart enough to know when to get help.”
“Yeah, but, I don’t know. I feel like I should have been doing it myself, instead of going out and -”
“There’s nothing dishonorable about bringing in a consultant,” Shaa said. “You tend to behave rationally, at least some of the time, and you made the rational decision. Shall we go on?”
Mont looked at Shaa, stared at him for a moment, then looked away. His head bobbed once in a uncertain nod.
Yet a nod it had been. “Your father, you said, was one of the first to be picked up, along with the rest of Kaar’s immediate family and other potential claimants to this middle-weight throne, the members of the Cabinet, and similar assorted threats. Your father is a grain merchant who’s doing rather well for himself; suffice it to say that is not the reason he’s in the dungeon. The reason he’s in the clink is that he was a military advisor to the former Venerance.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“The sort of advisor who specializes in pulling one out of nasty scrapes, hmm?” Shaa said. “By the strength of his own sword, if need be? That kind of relationship with someone like an ex-Venerance would certainly make him dangerous now. On the other hand, if Kaar could make your father go over to him, that would be something of a public relations coup, now wouldn’t it?”
“My father hates Kaar.”
“Yes, but what about torture?”
Mont gave a small snort. “You don’t know my father. He likes torture, says it builds character.”
“I suspected as much, but that’s not quite what I had in mind. Not torture of himself, no, but what about other members of your immediate family? Siblings, perhaps?”
“…I’ve got a sister.”
“Ah, how nice. Do you get along?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
“I too have a sister. Unfortunately our relationship has certain issues.”
“Uh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“As am I. But the point most pertinent to your situation has been made; that is, there are others available whose suffering could be used in principle to sway your father’s loyalty. Even, one may venture to say, you could be used as a pawn.”
“My father might not mind seeing me tortured. But anyway, they’d have to catch me first.”
“Yes indeed,” Shaa said, filing the predicate away for future exploration. “Hence the scene this afternoon. Or was the Guard after you because you’d stolen an apple? So. You’d like to spring your family from the hoosegow before the Guard gets you, too. That is not an insignificant task.”
“Are you saying you can’t do it? I thought you were just - “
“Keep your composure. When I say something seriously objectionable, you’ll know. The task is not insignificant, true, but it doesn’t seem insurmountable either. These old dungeons usually have some tricky way of getting in.”
Jurtan Mont looked down past their dangling feet and the vast slab of the warehouse wall toward the rolling black surface of the River Oolvaan, slapping the pilings under the wharf far below. “I guess I’m going to have to trust you,” he said.
Eventually, Shaa said to himself, he may stop saying that and actually start to do it. After a moment for contemplation, Shaa spoke. “Leaving aside your own personal stake in the matter for a moment, let us move on to the question of the relevant personalities. Specifically, to the issue of Kaar himself.
“As you so aptly pointed out, the whole city knows Kaar. That’s part of the problem. He’s the kind of person you’d spit at when you see pass in the street, right before you run for your life so he won’t slash you to death with his whip.”
Mont spat over the side of the building. “Kaar’s a drunk, a gambler, a -”
“A most thoroughly reprehensible creature indeed,” Shaa said, “especially given that he now seems to be in charge.” Under other circumstances. Shaa thought to himself, perhaps not that bad of a fellow, except for what sounded like a bit of a cruel streak. Still - “Given the suspicious background, and the fact that Kaar would be rather low on any candidate list of rulers likely to prove competent, I suspect there’s more to this than merely Kaar himself.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Mont said. “There’s some things about all of this that don’t make sense.”
“So perhaps I will venture certain educated guesses. If Kaar is the wonderful spirit and all-around great guy you describe, from where does his backing originate? After all, he not only managed to pull off the initial coup, he’s also been able to make it stick, at least so far. There’s more to that than just locking people up.”
“What about all the extra Guard? They must cost real money.”
“Ah,” Shaa said, “yes indeed. That is a point of great significance. This vast body of troops, marching as one indivisible body to the tune of Kaar the Magnificent.”
“Kaar the Magnificent? What are you talking about now?”
“Only a small exaggeration at this stage, a bit of advertising hyperbole, but teapot tyrants have a tendency to move into the grandiloquent regions with remarkable alacrity. He’ll be calling himself Magnificent or Transcendent or some such inside of a month, if he’s still around.”
“He’d better not be around. I pray the gods will not permit such a terrible -”
Shaa raised an eyebrow and glowered at Mont. “The gods,” he said, “are another subject entirely. Suffice it to say that the current crop of gods does not deserve your prayers and are unlikely to be of any present use whatever.”
Mont dropped his jaw and looked scandalized. “But - but if we pray hard enough, maybe we could get a blessing, maybe even get a god to help us.”
“The gods are a mixed blessing at best,” Shaa said, “especially the little ones who muck around with people. Although they rather like creatures like Kaar. Simple, pliable, vicious, not too smart - Kaar couldn’t have been a better tool if a god had designed him from scratch. Indeed, the last thing we want is some god noticing the situation and deciding it could further their latest plan. Please retract your prayer, and hope the gods are busy at the moment. That’s much safer all around. Now, about the Guard.”
Mont closed his mouth but the expression of moral distress remained on his face. “The Guard. Right. Yes?”
“Yes. There are many more troops around than one would expect for a city of this size. They have not been raised by levy, yet their faces are not familiar. Correct?”
“I, uh, I don’t know. I don’t spend much time on the streets. I didn’t spend time on the streets,” he corrected quickly.
Shaa sent a sardonic smile out over the river. “Right. The faces are not familiar; ergo Kaar has been importing foreign help for some time. Now what is suspicious about that?”