Artagel's not as subtle as he wishes to be in getting information, but he shows insight enough to succeed in calming Lebbick down.In [i]A Man Rides Through[/i] Chapter 34 was wrote:Artagel nodded. After a moment, he went on, "Speaking of the Congery--"
Lebbick interrupted him balefully. "Were we?"
Artagel frowned. "Were we what?"
"Speaking of the Congery. Or were you just prying?"
"I was prying." Artagel grinned. "And I'm going to keep prying until you say three sentences in a row that make sense. If you don't pull yourself together, you will rot.
"Speaking of the Congery, what're they doing about poor Master Quillon?"
Castellan Lebbick studied his visitor as if at last he had begun to wonder why Artagel was here. "Nothing," he articulated. "As far as I can tell, the only thing they do all day is sit around wiping each other's bums. By which I mean to say, of course"--he began to sound like he was quoting scornfully--"that they are dedicating all their efforts night and day toward discovering how Gilbur and Geraden and that woman are able to use flat glass without going mad.
"That blind lump Barsonage has suddenly"--Lebbick's tone was savage--"figured out King Joyse is right. He's gone all virtuous and noble about it. Mirrors don't create their own Images. The places they show are real. So we don't have the right to take anything that can tell the difference out of them. Which is a dogshit way of saying they aren't going to help defend us. They refuse to touch the only things that might do us some good."
The Castellan barked humorlessly. "It's actually funny. They discovered purity just when King Joyse gave it up. The only real reason we haven't been overrun already is, Kragen can't use his catapults. Whenever he tries, Havelock destroys them with some kind of smoke-bird from one of his mirrors."
Artagel began to hope that he was on the right track. Castellan Lebbick seemed to be recovering his self-command. Maybe it was time to risk--
Artagel is a natural at empathizing. If it weren't for his own independent streak, he would have already been made a leader, and a good one.Because he was the sort of man who took chances, Artagel said conversationally, "That's better. You're doing much better. Any minute now, you're going to be your old self again. There's just one thing I still want to know.
"Castellan"--he took a deep breath--"what in the name of sanity is the connection between Saddith and Nyle? Why does the fact that she showed up in your bed prove Geraden didn't kill him?"
For a long moment, the Castellan glowered as if he meant to explode. A muscle in his cheek twitched. His gaze burned red, drawing the darkness of the room around him; his expression was full of doom.
Like a man chewing iron pellets, he said, "Not Saddith and Nyle. Saddith and Eremis. She's his whore."
Artagel waited.
"He did that to me." Without warning, Lebbick's eyes began to spill tears. They ran down into his dirty beard, leaving streaks through the grime on his cheeks. "I was already so close to the edge. That woman was trying to tell me the truth, and I didn't know how to believe her. And he did that to me. He sent his whore to give me the last push. Because I'm the only one King Joyse has left. Even though he doesn't trust me.
"Master fornicating Eremis," the Castellan said through his loss, "wouldn't have sent his whore to my bed if everything that woman said about him wasn't true. He was trying to distract me."
With difficulty, Artagel resisted the temptation to whistle through his teeth. This time, he found the Castellan's reasoning comprehensible. He had always appreciated Saddith's frank lust; but at the moment he wasn't thinking about her. He was thinking that her appearance in Lebbick's bed was the worst thing Eremis could have done to the Castellan.
It was almost as if Eremis and King Joyse were conspiring together to destroy him.
Gruffly, Artagel said, "That makes sense." Words seemed to stick in his throat; he had to force them out. "What did Terisa actually tell you about out hero, Eremis?"
The Castellan scrubbed his face with his hands, grinding his tears into the dirt. "The same thing you did." On the cot beside him, he found a rank piece of rag and used it to blow his nose. "They must have switched the bodies. If Underwell really wanted Nyle dead, he could have made it happen without the stupid risk of all that bloodshed. But if Geraden was innocent, Underwell must have discovered right away that Nyle wasn't hurt. So Underwell had to be killed. To protect Eremis.
"Nyle is probably still alive. Unless Eremis doesn't need him anymore.
"Eremis is busy acting like the hero of Orison because his plans aren't ready. Cadwal isn't ready to attack. That's obvious--Cadwal isn't even here. Or he's waiting for something else to happen. He doesn't want Kragen to get the Congery."
Artagel was right on the edge of asking, So why don't you stop him? Go cut his heart out. Instead of holing up here like a beaten dog? Fortunately, he halted himself in time. As soon as the question occurred to him, he caught a glimpse of how Castellan Lebbick would react to it. They want me to come out so they can jump me. He wants to break me. He doesn't trust me.
Artagel liked to live dangerously, but he wasn't willing to risk pushing Lebbick back into turmoil.
I note that the trust factor with Artagel is so strong, that he has no trouble steering people into areas where he wants information. He has gotten experienced with interviewing people from all the times he's been sent out in the kingdom to solve problems, some of them no doubt mysteries to be solved.
Artagel was very sure that he wanted to oppose or hinder the Master in any way possible. After the murder of Master Quillon, it's about time Terisa and Geraden had another ally actively working for their side in Orison. Artagel's greatest contribution will be alerting Master Barsonage of his suspicions about Eremis, thus enabling Barsonage to conceal the Congery's defensive studies from Eremis. No small thing.He couldn't grasp what King Joyse was doing. But that wasn't his problem: someone else would have to figure it out. Eremis was another matter, however. Artagel was very sure that he wanted to oppose or hinder the Master in any way possible.
Gazing around the room in search of inspiration, he grabbed the first idea that came to him.
"You know, Castellan, if your wife saw this pigsty she'd spit granite."
Artagel was probably the only man in Orison who would have dared mention Lebbick's wife to his face.
By luck or intuition, however, Artagel had found the right approach. Instead of erupting, the Castellan looked chagrined. "I know," he muttered. "I'm going to clean it up. I'll get around to it soon."
The sorrow in his face wrung Artagel's heart. Without premeditation or forethought, he said quietly, "Don't bother. Leave it. I've got an extra room. I've even got an extra bed. Come stay with me."
Castellan Lebbick stared dumbly. His mouth worked as if Artagel had asked him to give up his link to the only thing that held him in one piece.
"She's dead," Artagel said as gently as he could. "It can't be helped. She doesn't need you anymore.
"We're the ones who need you."
Roughly, fighting collapse, the Castellan rasped, "'We'? Who is 'we'?"
"Me," Artagel didn't hesitate. "Geraden. Terisa. Anybody who thinks King Joyse is still worth trying to save, even though he does act like he's got his head stuck up his ass."
Lebbick thought for a long time, gazing away into the gloom around him. He looked like a man lost in memories--lost in love, in old instances of violence; a man who might never find his way back. But then his shoulders sagged, and he sighed.
"All right."
"Good." Artagel sighed as well, let the suspense exhale from him so hard that the release made him shudder. "It's time."
Without suspense or sorrow to keep him tight, however, his muscles went slack, and his limbs turned to rubber. Ruefully, he added, "You can start by helping me get back there. I'm afraid I overdid it coming here."
"Idiot," Lebbick growled. Slowly, he got to his feet. "You're supposed to be resting. I've seen shrubbery with better sense than you've got."
"That's easy." Artagel made a determined effort not to fall out of his chair. "I've seen shrubbery with better sense than any of us.
"Just tell me one thing." He paused to collect his fraying thoughts. "Why Ribuld? I didn't know you had such a good opinion of him."
Almost gently, Castellan Lebbick helped Artagel to his feet. Supporting Artagel with his shoulder, he started toward the door.
"I need somebody I can trust. He likes Geraden. That's all I've got to work with."
Artagel couldn't help himself: he had to ask. "Are you really in that much trouble? Just because of Eremis and Saddith?"
The muscles along Lebbick's jaw knotted. His eyes were full of gloom. "Wait and see."
On the way back to his rooms, Artagel found himself positively aching with the intensity of his desire to see Geraden again. He wanted somebody to tell him what was going on.