Chapter 31
The Mission
Cindarina stood, eyes lowered, in the doorway of the chamber. It was an antechamber to the throne room that Balanoptera had taken over for his own use. She looked over the floor and foundations as she was kept waiting. She recognized the style of stone, and bits of mosaic decoration from the Triton ruins. Re-used here. She even thought she could see some resemblance in the architecture of the fallen edifice of her people. With her new training, Cindarina speculated that her people had been forced to build this for their new masters. Certainly it was old, as was most of the palace. She couldn't think of any part that had been built in her lifetime. Quite the opposite. Parts that had fallen had been let fall and declared, by Atlantica, to stand testimony to the surpassing strength of the sea to all works of mortals.
The raucous laughter of Balanoptera and his friends echoed over the room. She was quite sure he was aware of her waiting. After all, he had summoned her. She was not actively listening to what they were saying, but she sensed they had moved on from talking about whatever boastful thing they had been to making crude comments about her. Instead she paid them no heed and contemplated her imagined history of the place and what changes the future might bring.
Eventually the delegation left, swaggering past her. Stopping briefly to make some uncouth suggestions that she did not deign to notice. Instead she moved on in to where Balanoptera sprawled, still chuckling and basking in his self-importance.
“Good evening,” she said.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “It is always a good evening with me!” He preened at his own witticism. She smiled politely but gave no endorsement of his assertion. She always tried to walk a fine line between what was politic and what left her with some dignity. She did not wish to provoke him, but if she fawned over him, she would be no better than the sycophants he surrounded himself with.
“So...” he said into the gap. “I hear you've been having a lot of fun with the humans on the mud pile?”
As with much of the court, he had never shown any interest in the nearby Triton ruins. It was only with the coming of the surface dwellers that any attention was shown them. And, as his contempt for all things of the surface was well known, his disinterest had turned to disdain. She shrugged. “You can learn much about someone by what they are interested in,” she said. “And it is never a bad thing to know as much as you can about someone who might be an adversary.” She trusted the double application of the statement would go above his head.
“Yes,” he said, repeating it slowly to himself. “That is exactly what I was thinking!” He nodded to himself, as he processed that into his own idea. Once he had completed the assimilation he was convinced it had been his idea from the start. “I was just telling my friends the same thing.”
“Are we then to expect that you and they will be joining our classes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was really the last thing she imagined would happen. He had no temperament for learning and Charonia could not even make him sit still for the lessons on his own history that the Sea King had commanded him to learn.
“Better than that,” he said, grinning. “Not many people know this. But I think you can be trusted.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I'm just on the verge of convincing my father that as they have sent their people here, we should demand to send some of our people there!”
In fact, many people already knew this. He had already bragged of being sent on an espionage mission by Waterbearer herself to many of his wide circle of flunkies. Those of Cindarina's friends who courted his favor told her of it, his chamber maid told her of it, and those who waited upon his table told her of it. Nevertheless it was never a good thing to make the son of Atlantica feel stupid so she merely said “Is that so?” Less amusing though than asking if he was planning on being sent as a foster child to the surface.
He nodded and winked. “I'm just not all that sure they are civilized enough to understand the notion of reciprocal hospitality,” he said. His own self esteem was firmly rooted in denigrating others.
She nodded. “Their ways are strange to us.” Sufficiently strange that it was irrelevant to compare their societies with such loaded terms as 'civilization'.
“But you,” he said. “You know them better than most.” He smiled slyly.
“I suppose I might,” she admitted. After all, she had taken the most time to talk to them, to ask them questions, to learn of their ways. Winter first, and then all he brought here. At first it was just mere politeness, but as she understood more, she understood how little she understood.
“And that teacher of theirs,” he struggled, looking for her name. “Anemone?”
“Penelope,” said Cindarina. The syllables were unusual and dissonant, but not unreasonably so.
“See!” he said triumphantly. “You do know them best! Her. Dad said she mentioned you specifically.”
She lowered her eyes. Penelope did often praise her. But she wasn't always sure it was for her insights, for her interest or mistakenly interpreting local knowledge for true understanding. “She has said I am more attentive then her own pupils.”
“Of course!” said Balanoptera. “The least of us is bound to be better than the best of them.”
Cindarina said nothing. She pondered the level of obliviousness that could deliver an insult while intending to deliver a compliment.
“So you are the perfect one!” Balanoptera concluded.
“Perfect for what?” she asked. She knew what he was working up to, based on what everyone had said. But he hadn't specifically said it yet. It wouldn't do to reveal she knew more of his plans than he thought.
He looked momentarily confused. “Perfect for asking her, of course.” He then shook his head. “Let me spell it out. You need to talk to her and get her to agree to take me and my friends back to her home.”
“You and your friends?” she asked. It seemed implausible that they would take him and others who had never even attended a single class and them only. But she wasn't sure he realized it. “Do you think anyone else should go?”
“Well, you too. And whoever else in the class you think would allay suspicion,” he said.
Since she already knew reciprocal hospitality was already far from his mind, she did not question what suspicion might be raised. “If I also suggested that Winter went, it would probably make it easier,” she proffered. “He is always eager to see his mother.”
Balanoptera's eyes narrowed. “Seeing his mother?” He thought on it, and then smiled a cruel smile. “Yes. Yes. I think I would very much like for him to see his mother when I see his mother.”
For the first time, Cindarina felt a little alarmed. This seemed to be something outside of what he had bragged of to others. Either he did have the capacity to be discrete about some things, or else it was something he had thought of on his own. She steadied herself and focused. “You will then arrange with His Majesty permission for him to come with us, as it is outside the normal foster visit?”
“What, oh? My father will refuse me nothing,” said Balanoptera, still musing on his private fantasies.
“Do you have a precise date that you were thinking of for this?” she asked. That precision had also not been in what was overheard.
He started out of his reverie. “Yes. We need to be there in six days’ time. That is very important. Everything hinges on that.” He looked at her intently. “Very important. Too late would be too late.”
“Six days’ time,” she smiled. Looks like something had been hammered into him. If so, then it was important to she who sent him on this task. “I will talk to them. I will get them to agree. I do not see how your plan can fail.”
Balanoptera cackled. He looked her up and down, and then his eyes lingered on her. “You know,” he said. “If you do well, I'll be highly appreciative. Highly.”
Cindarina shuddered. Balanoptera's unwanted advances were quite the whispered talk of the younger girls of the court. “The son of Atlantica is kind. You
don't need to do anything for me. My duty will be reward enough.”
He shrugged and went back to amusing himself at his table. She took that as a dismissal and slipped away.