An internal creature prodded Vigil and drew his attention to where the seneschal still crouched on the floor, motionless, evidently awaiting some order or signal.
The valet said, “They got a number of legal tricks they can pull to prevent you from sitting down. One of them is letting that guy there not open the door. Point your finger at him, say or sign the words, I grant you leave, your shift is over.”
The seneschal stood up, looking surprised. He said, “Milord, this is not proper! I refuse to take my leave time! I hereby lodge a formal protest with the Officer of the Watch.”
The valet said, “Tell him to shut his yam-eating scrofulous trap. Since his shift is over, he does not have access to the circuits to lodge a potato, much less lodge a protest. Tell him to stuff a pipe up his fundament and blow smoke out of his bunghole for an hour and a half, until the next watch change.”
The seneschal snarled at the valet, “But I can raise a point of order at any time and call the Officer of the Watch at any time! You are legally required to stand by until he arrives! And since he is in yonder chamber, now lawfully allowed to depart it, aha! You also must abide here with me until the next watch change! That is ninety minutes by the Sacerdotal reckoning of time! Doors! You are my witness!”
Vigil gave the mudra to open the doors, but they refused the command. A lantern to the left of the door turned from blue to red, and the architrave displayed a mudra which indicated the need to stand by until the Officer of the Watch arrived.
The valet sighed. “Okay, you guys think you can choke me with laws and rut your dangles up with me. Hellfire and pestulation! I am a goddamn pus-licking, low-down, snake-tongued, crook-brained lawyer, and I’ll stuff the law books down your craw one jot and tittle at a time, you rut with me!” He turned angrily to Vigil. “Now they got my dander up, and that’s never fun for no one but me! Draw the damn pistol I just gave you, and shoot it at the floor.”
Vigil did so. The glass weapon was magnetic, so there was no noise of discharge, but the report of the shot ripping through the sound barrier, and the crack of the marble floor, shocked the hearing.
Bells, whistles, and flutes began shrieking and ringing, along with the sound of the sackbut and timbrel, cornet, cymbals, psaltery, dulcimer. The lanterns flared with colors of rose, cyan, scarlet, and gold, and many voices spoke in languages long forgotten.
A nearby door, but not the locked door leading into the Chamber, now swung open. A trio of guards in brass and black armor and air-helms of silver, plumes of poison-detection feathers spreading from their crests, came into the room at a quick march, pacification wands at the ready. They must have just that moment been woken from slumber, no doubt stacked in a closet against the hour when they were needed, because the one in the front was still white in the face, the chemicals of long-term hibernation not yet faded from his cells. He had also not yet closed his face mask, so the valet only skinned a few knuckles when he punched the man in the face and knocked him to the ground.
The other two watchmen grabbed the valet roughly by either arm and flourished their wands. From the wand tip issued a mudra indicating peace, and the valet’s arms and legs jerked in odd response, as the ability to make violent motions was removed from his nervous system.
The valet, his arms pinned, said quickly, “Say the words, Weapons fired, officer down. Then say the words, Emergency condition declared.”
The officer jumped to his feet. “I am not down!”
But it was too late. Vigil had spoken the words, and the lanterns had changed color to orange.
The seneschal said in panic, “Stop that man from talking! He is a lawyer!” And a watchman waved his wand in the face of the valet, but the valet was wearing the air mask Vigil had discarded, which was the mask of a Lord of the Stability, whose words could not be overridden.
The watchman was shocked when the valet spoke again, “Establish rank!”
Vigil knew this part of the regulations. He kicked his boot heels together, and without unsheathing the sword, he made it emit a signal of white noise on the weapon frequency.
The seneschal and the watch officer turned in outraged astonishment. But they both knew the meaning of the posture Vigil assumed, and the radio-pulse of the sword: I am ranking officer and take command.
The seneschal composed his face and returned a salute of submission. At your orders, sir. And, after a long pause, the watch officer did also.
The valet said, “Relieve the watch officer of command. Take his wand and tap me on both shoulders with it.”
Vigil understood this as well. The ranking officer had authority to appoint the watch during emergencies in the name of the master of the ship. In order for the real Officer of the Watch to overrule him, the doors to the Chamber would have to be opened. Vigil waved at the two watchmen holding the valet back, and, when they did not respond, he indicated them to stumble backward with a mudra of authority.
Vigil struck the valet on the shoulder. “Do you solemnly swear and remember to discharge the duties and—”
“Pox, yes,” snapped the valet. He plucked the peace wand out of Vigil’s surprised hand, extended it, and struck the seneschal near the ankle of his tall and unsteady shoes with the wand butt, triggering some mudra whose shape Vigil did not recognize. The seneschal fell down on the marble floor.
Vigil played the scene back in his memory, but he was unable to get a fix on the position of the wand, so he could not tell whether the seneschal fell because of the mudra discharge or because of the blow to his foot. Another possibility was that the mudra had been set to release the valet from the imposition on his nervous system and allow him to complete a violent motion of striking the seneschal in the foot.
The valet, now the chief watch officer, said, “I place you under arrest for being drunk and disorderly while on post! For thinking impure thoughts on steamboat landings, and for mopery with intent to creep!”
The seneschal on the floor looked up, swatting at the eager hat which kept trying to jump back on top of his head. “I am not drunk! Nor do I mope! I call upon the doors to witness! I fell due to the criminal assault and battery of that lunatic!”
A voice from the door spoke in an ancient language, which Vigil understood. “Falling to the deck while on duty is an unusual behavior and forms sufficient cause to suspect intoxication.”
Vigil understood. The position and motion of the wand had not been recorded into the environment memory. The doors had not seen the cause of the fall. Whether this weapon-blindness was a legal courtesy extended to bailiffs, or was a product of the mudra the wand had issued, or was a Fox-trick the valet had accomplished, Vigil did not know.
The ancient voice continued, “Both parties are under arrest, pending investigation, as no disorder during emergency condition, radiation leak, or hull breach is permitted.”
His ex-valet, who was now his Chief Officer of the Watch, must have understood the ancient language as well, for he said to Vigil, “Commute my sentence to time served and order the record expunged, so that I can serve in public office. Appoint me bailiff. Say these words to dropsy drunkboat there: You are relieved of rank and duty and confined to quarters pending further investigation.”
Vigil did all these things, speaking clearly and loudly so that both animate and inanimate creatures could hear him. This time, he unclipped his scabbard, and stuck the sword, scabbard and all, through the tall man’s belt.
The seneschal climbed to his feet, trembling with outrage. “You would not dare! I will countersue! My cousins are men of ancient and established lineage! Besides—the appointment as watch officer was unlawful, as the forms of the words were not completed! And his so-called term would have ended when he was placed under arrest, since he serves at the pleasure of the ranking officer during good behavior! Ha!”