Inconveniencing— Inconveniencing in what fashion, exactly? And what do you mean 'only a little to do with me?' I am ignoring the matter of hired help until you answer in a proper fashion.
[Among other reasons, but mostly that it might do Val some good to restrict himself to one subject now and again.]
[This time the strain is because he is kicking the drapes into a pile, one thud of boot against heavy fabric at a time, while Garce mills around with the tasseled edge of the window dressing in her mouth, contentedly munching.]
Because I am not meant to be rolling up carpets! I have other work to attend to! Yet here I am, doing this. And I will here mention that I do not like to be held hostage in this way, where you will refuse to continue a conversation until I have answered some question. I will answer in my own time and in my own fashion. It is only a little to do with you by way of your connection to me. Hardly a thing at all.
But how have your relations conspired to inconvenience you, monsieur? That way you mentioned it made it sound as if it is a rather active and current form of—of inconvenience, and not merely a matter of your being disinherited however long ago. If this business has anything to do with me presently, even if only by association, my solicitor will wish to know about it.
[Yes, she is still ignoring the matter upon which they will not speak until her curiosity has been satisfied. Thank you for noticing. But also:]
You are holding me hostage, do not deny it--but in the spirit of the season, I shall endeavor to forgive you. And my solicitor is aware of this campaign and if there were any real substance to it, then he would haev the situation quite in hand--so if I were you, I should not trouble your man, as there would be little point to doing so--but if you insist upon knowing, Garce came to Kirkwall bearing papers claiming herself to be a gift of Madame Maxence Begnoche.
[Here, the pause is somewhat more significant as Wysteria, through a series of sluggish late night calculations, begins to connect the dots and so assemble an outline of the slight.]
A person of little consequence. Hardly worth talking of. She has often amused herself in this way, gifting a thing that she thinks its recipient will not like. Well! We shall not allow this. Garce will prosper and live on in happiness, and so will we.
Do you really think this carpet will fetch any coin?
[A studious person of interest such as, say, Wysteria's solicitor who has been working with hopeless diligence on the issue of dissolving a previously established nuptial agreement (having been no direction to not do so) might pause here helplessly over Val's chosen phrasing—struck by a momentary dual joy of being relief of a long shouldered burden and the abject misery of a considerable number of hours wasted.
But Wysteria's solicitor isn't on the line and she shares in no such pause herself.]
Spite seems like a very poor reason to keep an animal, Valentine.
[Obviously she is the expert on the morality of animal husbandry in this conversation. It has nothing to do with the impulse to eat Val's definitely-a-cousin's goat on account of the same motivation.] As for the rug, I doubt it's worth very much but it may be worth something.
But any inquiries of sale—of the rug or anything else in the house—would have to pass through your solicitor. Or, I suppose, made to look like articles of your uncle's estate rather than of this one. He, your legal advisor, will recall the specificity surrounding the property and all items associated with it. I won't bore you with the details. But if enough bits and bobs were to be successfully liquidated, I imagine it would be possible to consider hiring someone on... Or if the money came from somewhere else, of course.
[Almost absently,] Perhaps we might change her name to Dépit.
[And then the muffled thud of the toe of Val's boot kicking against the rug to begin its rolling.]
I think that my uncle was a great collector of rugs, now that you've said it. A great collector indeed. And it would make sense to have stored those rugs within the rooms of this great house--for where would I have them kept otherwise? My apartments in Val Royeaux are far too full of my own possessions, and my room within the Gallows far too small, and my workshop not at all suited. No, they could only have been stored here. This is very logical.
[Yes, he's, very good. How happy that Val has acquired a property fit for storing his uncle's more sizable belongings. And who would really care about the provenance of a few dust old carpets? Surely no one. Not enough to bother to track down shipping manifests or the original inventory of either house or—]
I have been giving some thought to the machine which came through the a rift which Miss Greene and I brought back to Kirkwall in the summer. Oh, I may have neglected to tell you about it. It was directly prior to the invasion and just before the Vinsomer was finished, and so it must have slipped my mind. Remind me and I'll show it to you. But in any case, I have some drawings based on some of its parts and I think it might be very charmingly and simply reproduced. I suppose I might sell the design if it could be made to work.
'Miss Green'. Does that make you Miss Blonde? Who are these people, really. You are possessed of a never-ending list of them. I cannot imagine how you make the space of mind to recall them so readily, or the space of heart to care for them at all.
[Machines, though. Much more interesting. He stops thumping at the carpet so vigorously, so that he might pay more closer attention.]
I shall be reminding you. What is it that this machine is meant to do?
Is it? Much improved upon the horse? A difficult thing to imagine, considering the vast superiority of horses to many other creatures--and things, in general.
Oh well, no. Not at all. I suspect the machine must be from a place without horses.
But certain principles that are evident in its design could be borrowed and made smaller and lighter and into something very practical for use in places where horses are not. Think of all the narrow little streets in Kirkwall only meant for walking in.
But if one had neither, it would be very convenient to have an able substitute. And I believe most horses finds navigating stairs rather difficult, but one might carry this little contraption from one level of Kirkwall to the next without much trouble and so continue happily on.
Orlesian horses do not find stairs difficult. The very good ones. Yet I do see the point--
[The point, never your point, unless he was very absent-minded indeed--but even this small capitulation suggests a certain something.]
--there would be a certain convenience. To say nothing of the novelty. I had decided already that I should like to see these drawings, but now I shall insist.
They will be entirely positive. I can tell already. [His opinions. She has determined that should be true, because assessment less than glowing would—
Not depress her. That's absurd. Only she is has been very useless for a great number of weeks and it would be pleasant to be not that, and so she has already decided on the outcome.]
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[Among other reasons, but mostly that it might do Val some good to restrict himself to one subject now and again.]
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[This time the strain is because he is kicking the drapes into a pile, one thud of boot against heavy fabric at a time, while Garce mills around with the tasseled edge of the window dressing in her mouth, contentedly munching.]
Because I am not meant to be rolling up carpets! I have other work to attend to! Yet here I am, doing this. And I will here mention that I do not like to be held hostage in this way, where you will refuse to continue a conversation until I have answered some question. I will answer in my own time and in my own fashion. It is only a little to do with you by way of your connection to me. Hardly a thing at all.
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[Yes, she is still ignoring the matter upon which they will not speak until her curiosity has been satisfied. Thank you for noticing. But also:]
I am not holding you hostage.
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[He makes a retching noise immediately after.]
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Who?
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de Foncé.
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A cousin, perhaps?
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A person of little consequence. Hardly worth talking of. She has often amused herself in this way, gifting a thing that she thinks its recipient will not like. Well! We shall not allow this. Garce will prosper and live on in happiness, and so will we.
Do you really think this carpet will fetch any coin?
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But Wysteria's solicitor isn't on the line and she shares in no such pause herself.]
Spite seems like a very poor reason to keep an animal, Valentine.
[Obviously she is the expert on the morality of animal husbandry in this conversation. It has nothing to do with the impulse to eat Val's definitely-a-cousin's goat on account of the same motivation.] As for the rug, I doubt it's worth very much but it may be worth something.
But any inquiries of sale—of the rug or anything else in the house—would have to pass through your solicitor. Or, I suppose, made to look like articles of your uncle's estate rather than of this one. He, your legal advisor, will recall the specificity surrounding the property and all items associated with it. I won't bore you with the details. But if enough bits and bobs were to be successfully liquidated, I imagine it would be possible to consider hiring someone on... Or if the money came from somewhere else, of course.
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[And then the muffled thud of the toe of Val's boot kicking against the rug to begin its rolling.]
I think that my uncle was a great collector of rugs, now that you've said it. A great collector indeed. And it would make sense to have stored those rugs within the rooms of this great house--for where would I have them kept otherwise? My apartments in Val Royeaux are far too full of my own possessions, and my room within the Gallows far too small, and my workshop not at all suited. No, they could only have been stored here. This is very logical.
[Thump, thump.]
Where else would the money be coming from?
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I have been giving some thought to the machine which came through the a rift which Miss Greene and I brought back to Kirkwall in the summer. Oh, I may have neglected to tell you about it. It was directly prior to the invasion and just before the Vinsomer was finished, and so it must have slipped my mind. Remind me and I'll show it to you. But in any case, I have some drawings based on some of its parts and I think it might be very charmingly and simply reproduced. I suppose I might sell the design if it could be made to work.
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[Machines, though. Much more interesting. He stops thumping at the carpet so vigorously, so that he might pay more closer attention.]
I shall be reminding you. What is it that this machine is meant to do?
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[No, nevermind.]
It's for riding on. The machine is.
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But certain principles that are evident in its design could be borrowed and made smaller and lighter and into something very practical for use in places where horses are not. Think of all the narrow little streets in Kirkwall only meant for walking in.
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[A place without horses? No, he will not think on that too long. How sad.]
Of course one might ride a horse in those streets just as well. If one had a very good horse, and the courage.
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[The point, never your point, unless he was very absent-minded indeed--but even this small capitulation suggests a certain something.]
--there would be a certain convenience. To say nothing of the novelty. I had decided already that I should like to see these drawings, but now I shall insist.
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[He should be pleased; she is only taking a page out of his own book with all this faux offense.]
What will you give me in exchange?
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Not depress her. That's absurd. Only she is has been very useless for a great number of weeks and it would be pleasant to be not that, and so she has already decided on the outcome.]
What else?
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What do you mean, 'what else'? That is more than enough. Do you intend upon holding me hostage again, mademoiselle?
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