Rexi and Talon

By Onyx Tao

© 2014

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21. 'Zackton Silvercane'

Zackton brought the last song to a close with a low, almost inaudible vibrato, and bowed into the applause. He neither looked at nor looked away from General Murdoth and his little gang of scowlers - either the suggestion that the General give him a chance took, or it didn't. If it didn't, there would be other opportunities. He'd intended to suggest to the Paraduchess that he would make a marvelous guest on future occasions - but there was simply no need. Not only was she impressed with his singing - although, in all honesty, he was simply that good - but she was apparently attracted to him as well.

Not all women were; most were repulsed by his appearance. But sometimes it would draw rather than repulse for whatever reason, and the Paraduchess was clearly wanting him as a bedroom conquest. Zackton rather hoped he could avoid it.

He made polite replies to other guests - many of whom, he noted with a moderate interest, were entirely sincere in their congratulations and appreciation. Most, even. Several were jealous and bitter - he'd have to deal with them carefully. Two didn't see what the fuss was about, but didn't want to admit it. Interesting, that.

The Paraduchess was making horrible cooing sounds, as if she'd discovered him personally. That ... it might just be easier to fuck her and get it over with, and engineer a mutually respectful breakup. The Maestro was feeling ignored and belittled. Can't have that. Zackton made a deep bow, and presented the Maestro to his audience, and joined the applause. Better. Zackton worked his way through the crowd.

Interesting. The General was still there; Zackton hadn't been sure he would be. The magic he'd used was ... subtle, very subtle. As a fair and reasonable man, give the singer a chance to prove himself worthy of friendship. And it was best used subtly. It was a potent effect, and most often, its power was squandered in absurd requests or forcing its victims into outlandish actions. He could as easily have suggested that the General fuck a dog in public. And again, the magic would work or not, but ... once it wore off, as such magic did, the General would have been furiously aware that someone had tampered with his choices.

Zackton preferred a much, much gentler touch. Suggest something that he'd be willing to do - or something that, phrased the way it was phrased, would twine with his own self-image. Who didn't see himself as fair and reasonable? And didn't those suggest that he should make an unbiased judgment? And if General Murdoth couldn't quite bring himself to like Zackton, well, another suggestion, or two, or three, could nudge him, ever so gently, to that conclusion. That, Zackton had found, was the real power of suggestion. The suggestion would fade, but conclusions and decisions and actions taken on it ... those remained. If the suggestion was subtle and gentle and light, then its fading would be equally subtle and gentle and light.

The General might well continue to hate orcs.

But he would also continue to like Zackton, as an exception. The General and his friends weren't the only obstacles - but at the moment, they were the largest. Concerted effort from the General's circles could get Zackton quietly excluded from the social circles he needed to be in. If he could get the General to help him ...

Now, that would be worth doing.

He smiled as he continued the greetings. The panoply of colors and decorations was more than a little confusing, though. Clearly, colors were chosen for as much political reasons as decorative value - and Zackton was certain that he'd need assistance sorting them out. Perhaps Talon will know. Or Crandolous. Although the relative and comparative meanings of pearls versus emeralds versus sapphires ... could be tricky. Rubies, such as the Paraduchess sported at her ears and fingers, were simply accommodation to the diabolic regime; in a sense, they said only that the wearer wanted to associate with the Asmodeans. But other gems might just be gems. Colors might reflect loyalties or appearances ... and he didn't know any of the associations, Zackton thought glumly.

And here I thought I was so prepared. Can't think of everything. Rexi might - no, he'd have to know what colors mean. Yes. Which meant that Zackton would simply have to make a mental note of the colors, and figure it all out later. Easy enough. Although he'd have to avoid committing himself or making promises until he better understood the dynamics ... or rather, until he understood where everyone stood in relation to those dynamics. He already knew what Houses were in play, and how, but ... he'd neglected to find out how to tell who was associated with which faction.

Oops.

He'd had other things to worry about, of course, but Zackton wasn't the sort to make excuses to himself - or even care, really, other than to note the mistake, and correct it. The one thing he'd been most worried about - being blacklisted by General Mordoth or one of his coterie - was his true goal tonight. The General's influence had to be neutralized, one way or another. He'd considered simply removing the General, but then the six or seven other lords would simply close ranks, and it wasn't clear which - if any - of them would take precedence. The most likely case was that they'd fight among themselves for precedence, but while they were doing that, they'd all be leaping all over themselves to be as _in_tolerant and aggressive as possible to support their leadership claims within the group. That was not the outcome Zack wanted to trigger.

Bringing Talon had been every bit as successful as he'd hoped. The half-elf was getting looks from at least a third of the attendees, and those looks varied from lust to simple curiousity as they looked from Talon to him, and wondered just what their relationship was. Probably, Zackton thought wryly_, imagining that it's much more like I wish it were._ Still, Talon looked in good condition - he wasn't cowering away from the others the way the girl next to him was, so clearly Zackton couldn't be that much of a brutal monster_._

Can't I, though. That was almost enough to make his break character and laugh. That's right, he thought. Come closer to the nice, tame monster. I don't bite.

The General's glances, though, were directed as much at the human girl next to Talon as Talon himself. Interesting. Zackton inserted a few comments into the conversation, turned it gently towards pets and whether or not they should be brought to a salon; would they appreciate it, could they benefit; what does it say about their Masters ... and got back a confused babble of opinions, much as he'd expected. Apparently the girl's name was Thesta, and she belonged - interesting, interesting - to General Mordoth. And that there were only five pets here today, and three of the others were ... upstairs.

He'd have to ask Crandolous later to untangle that euphemism. It could be anything from being punished somehow to serving their owner to serving those their owner brought upstairs as well. For now, he just nodded, and deflected the occasional questions about Talon and why he'd brought him.

I brought him so you could react to him, Zackton didn't tell the tall women who was practically salivating over the half-elf. You and all the others - apparently Coryntyn society was either more approving of same-sex attraction than it had been, or perhaps it was just another passe debauchment. Certainly a good number of men were appraising Talon just as the women were - and some of them were turning that same sense of is he available on Zackton himself.

Which ... did and didn't surprise him. He'd expected that somebody would find him so, and the Paraduchess' immediate reaction was within his expectations, and even as she did slick herself, her flirting was entirely within reasonable limits. She'd probably finger herself tonight thinking of him - but she wouldn't actually invite him to her bed. Again, a reaction within his anticipation, although he hadn't thought the Paraduchess in particular would be that way.

Some of the looks he was getting from the other guests, however, were nowhere near as restrained as the Paraduchess' sly innuendo. Some of the questions he was responding to were ... lacking restraint, or suggestive far beyond what mere flirting would be. He'd already turned down two women who - from their initial approach - had wanted to drag him to that euphemistic upstairs, now. That was ... much more than he'd expected. Even in lands where half-orcs were ... less unusual, say, he hadn't had aristocrats publicly suggesting sex. Perhaps it was the entire unexpectedness, the unusual, the exotic, that titillated them. Somehow he didn't think that the entire upper class of Coryntyn was harboring a secret orc fetish.

The two men watching him hadn't yet approached. One was General Mordoth, the other a youngish, well-built man in basic black, trimmed with light blue. The rapier at his side was ... not there merely for show, although it was a showy weapon. Zackton smiled, continued smiling, took a glass filled with softly bubbling wine from one of the slips, and pretended to sip from it as he examined the crowd more closely.

A lot of magic. It was always difficult to narrow it down ... he sipped some more, concentrating and refining the odd tickling sense that meant magic to him ... her necklace ... his bracelet ... the Paraduchess' rings ... the General's sword, belt, and scabbard ... an amulet at his neck ... the young man's sword and cloak ... someone's silver-chased boots ... a pouch that tingled with something inside it ... a walking stick that was also a potent wand ... two attendees whose clothing and mien were almost completely illusory disguise ... a quiet woman whose very flesh was enchanted ... an earring on one of the musicians ... something on Maestro Crandolous' arms ...

Zackton ignored the remainder and focused back on the immediate conversation as he drained the glass, and handed it off to yet another slip.Interesting that weapons would be openly carried here. Although ... he glanced again. No. The rapier was part of the outfit, and the General's sword part of his uniform. A rapier, maybe, but it was unlikely he could get away with carrying the swords he favored. Unfortunate. But then again, he was more than sufficiently threatening even without those blades, and he was hardly defenseless.

The gauntlet locked on his left hand stirred at that thought, but he sent it soothing thoughts, and it quieted back down. That would be ... more than inconvenient, having a heavy gauntlet just materialize on his hand. How long had it been since he'd fed the thing? Right after they left Katapesh, on that screaming man who wouldn't settle down in the hold ... was it getting hungry again? He hadn't called on it, hadn't used its power, and until he did that it was content to stay ... sleepy, he supposed. Or at least it had in the past. Still, that had been the better part of a month ago, and whatever it was, it hadn't come with any explanations, much less guarantees. Zackton made a mental note to feed it again. Soon.

When the General finally walked up, and Zackton smiled at him without any particular recognition in the expression. "Mighty fine voice, Master Silvercane."

"Thank you," Zackton acknowledged, in exactly the same tones he'd used for everyone else. "I'm so pleased to be in Coryntyn."

"Really? I'd ... why is that?"

"One of my favorite composers was from Coryntyn - Lirus Macalallan," Zackton said smoothly. "Although he's more famous as Chorale Master Zedro Fathirre." The half-orc tossed his hand up. "It hardly matters. He might be famous in Westcrown - but he composed here in Coryntyn. He opened a number of his works here, you know."

"I do know," said the General. "I don't know that I'd call him my favorite composer, but he's very, very good, I'll give you that."

Zackton paused. That was ... too challenging to ignore. "I don't know, it seems to me that once a composer with a particular amount of talent acquires the skill to make that talent shine - that it is hardly a contest. Fathirre is not Volkazt; Volkazt could never write what Mannenstod did, and none of them could be compared in any real sense to Liepwigg. And yet our repertoire would be much lessened if one of them were subtracted.""

"I don't hear you discussing any more modern composers," the General said.

"I am afraid my learning was done in a place which, ah, lacked access to the more modern works of the Chelish musical stage," Zackton said. "One of my hopes is to become better acquainted with more, up-to-date, opera. I'm sure the last fifty years or so must have some triumphs, whatever the stuffier Taldans claim." Zackton smiled broadly at the General.

"No doubt," the General said sourly. "Who did you study with in Oppara?"

More dangerous ground, this, since Zackton hadn't studied in Oppara, only suggested it. He disliked lying; simply because there were so many magics to detect an untruth. Still ... "I would say a major Taldan influence was Dame Pathma Ceberra; I spent some time working with her." Technically true, since fifteen minutes was some time, and he really had no Taldan 'influence' at all.

"I've never heard of her."

"Ah. She ... teaches more than performs," Zackton said apologetically. "Many of her students go on to ... eclipse her. She's, how may I say it, a marvelous vocal instructor, but ... her voice is not ..." he paused. "She is a marvelous vocal instructor."

"Rather like our own Lady Matílda, eh?"

"I couldn't say," said Zackton. "I do not know her. I am, as I've said, just arrived in Coryntyn a couple of weeks ago. I'm just setting my own business in order."

"Business?"

"Music, much as I love it, does not pay well," Zackton said. "And I did not inherit wealth." He shrugged. "Thus, business."

"A merchant?"

"More or less. There is a need; I find a way to fill the need," Zackton said. "But ... this is surely not your interest?"

"No," the General said bluntly. "I'm wondering why an orc is interested in opera."

Zackton nodded. "Well, I suppose it depends on what you mean by orc. If you mean an individual descended from a particular humanoid subset ... I would have to say the question doesn't make any sense. If you mean, on the other hand, a sort of mental state - one of, frankly, barbarian savagery exalting strength, violence, and brutality as opposed to one preferring sophistication, the company of others, and the appreciation of things other than warfare - the many comforts and benefits provided by a community of artisans ..." Zackton gave a toothy grin. "I would say it had to be the percussion section in the orchestra."

The General stared for a moment, and then laughed. "That's ... the percussion ... hahahahaha." He smiled, for the first time. "So you like the percussion section?"

Zackton shook his head. "Seriously, General - I am reading your uniform correctly? Yes? - seriously, I was ..." he paused. "I was exposed to operatic training just at the right time, as way to correct my enunciation. It's not easy to speak Taldan with this dentition. My first ... owner, if you will, chose to send me to a vocal instructor rather than to have my tusks pulled."

The General blinked. "Oh? You were a slave?"

"In every sense of the word aside from officially," Zackton said calmly. "But ... clearly, things changed."

The General nodded. "So they have. Well. I have to admit just seeing you brings back some ... unpleasant memories. That business in the north, some years ago?"

"A minor incursion, I heard."

The General snorted. "A minor incursion. The horde nearly reached Egorian!" He looked around, suddenly cautious. "It was worse than ... reported."

"I see," said Zackton. "I hope you won't hold it against me, then."

"No," said the General, as if he was making up his mind. "I won't."

"Thank you," Zackton said with a smile. "That ... that is greatly appreciated." He made a slight, half-bow. "I ..." and he paused. "I do not wish to presume to judge your profession, General, but I made the decision, early in my life, that warfare would not be my calling."

"Not interested? Saw too much of it?"

"No. Too tempting," Zackton said. "I decided I would embrace my human side. I admit that's led me to some strange places."

"Is that where you picked him up?" General Mordoth asked, gesturing at Talon. "Strange places?"

"I found him in Coryntyn, so ... I suppose so," Zackton said.

"Coryntyn is a strange place?"

"When you look like I do, General, all places are strange," Zackton said.

"How long have you been here?"

"Perhaps two weeks," Zackton said. "A little less."

"And you've already got him trained?"

"No," said Zackton. "I wouldn't call him trained. That's why he's still on the leash ... he understands what he has to understand, for that."

"And he obeys you?"

Zackton nodded. "Exceedingly well."

"Quick work."

"Would you care to go upstairs?"

Zackton blinked in surprise. "... General, I've heard that term bruited about several times. I am, as I said, new to Corynton, new to Chelish society, and ... forgive me, but I am not sure what your invitation actually means."

The General laughed again. "I suppose that's ... yes, I can see that. Well, upstairs are simply a number of more or less private rooms, for more or less private conversations. And I was inviting you up for nothing more than a glass of wine - if you drink - and to see what you know of music in Taldor."

"That sounds pleasant," Zackton said. "And I would like to accept your offer. But I did promise the Maestro I would, ah, circulate. Make myself available."

"Then we'll leave the door open," said the General. "That's indicates we'd welcome others to join our conversation."

"You have tempted me ... successfully," Zackton said.

"Oh, we know all about temptation, here in Cheliax these days," the General said.