H - 136: Cracks in the Walls (Patreon)

After that first days-long session with all the bandits, Kaln had been glad to delegate Storyteller duties to Pheneraxa…and also had asked the Commander to quietly monitor her progress for signs of stress, keenly aware of how prying into the innermost truths of others could wear upon the mind. So far, though, she had seemed fine; Pheneraxa was ecstatic to operate one of her mother’s magical masterworks, and also hadn’t been subjected to an unbroken succession of hundreds of particularly fraught cases.

The chamber in which they’d set up the Storyteller was one of the enigmatic side galleries with which the vault complex was riddled, a half-round room of Timestone rather like an amphitheater but with a level floor. Inset panels of Timeglass provided illumination, and some ventilation came through segments of quietly ticking Timesteel gears which the dragons had long ago ascertained (and the Phantom Legion more recently verified) did nothing but tick, serving no physical purpose that could be discerned. It also featured an original Timesteel door, which was great for security, especially after the addition of a silencing enchantment. Timekeeper materials did not take enchantments, but one could be laid across the empty space directly behind it.

And so Kaln, suppressing his twinges of guilt, stood with Izayaroa and Emeralaphine in their smaller forms, Clarent himself, Commander Sharamin, and the two ghost guards posted in the chamber, with Pheneraxa in her larger form sprawled in a protective semicircle around the Storyteller itself while it showed them a tale of the events which had brought Clarent here.

“Fascinating,” the spymaster said as soon as it had gone dark, seeming intrigued and delighted and in no way discomfited by the abrogation of his privacy. “I rather expected a more thorough display of my life, based on reports, but that focused almost exclusively on recent conversations with her Majesty.”

“The device is good at editing,” Pheneraxa said smugly. “It arranges its displays to show what is relevant to the trustworthiness of the subject. In this case, it evidently suffices to reveal that you came here in good faith.”

“Can you make it show more specific details?” Clarent asked.

“Certainly,” said Emeralaphine. “It is a simple matter of asking it more specific questions.”

“Fantastic! I would strongly recommend, my lord and ladies, that you have it extract a more thorough biography before making any hiring decisions. Forgive my presumption; it’s just that with such a ready source of information it would be a criminal lapse not to take the fullest advantage.”

Kaln met Izayaroa’s eyes for a moment, neither of them missing that Clarent was increasing his credibility here by encouraging them to investigate him more closely.

In truth, what the Storyteller had already shown them sufficed for the question at hand. It had been interesting—and more than a little awkward—to observe Queen Henrietta in conversation with someone she knew well and trusted, as opposed to the far more controlled face she had put on in Kaln’s presence. They had clearly seen her regret at the political necessity of dismissing Clarent, and her fear of the consequences. She had reacted with reflexive displeasure at his stated intent of applying for a job from Kaln, though over the ensuing discussion Clarent had smoothly persuaded her that, given the inextricable entanglement of Boisverd’s and Dragonvale’s interests, ensuring Kaln’s success might be the only good he could still do for her kingdom.

“Having seen this,” Clarent continued, “I wonder if it would be possible to trick the device by staging an apparently sincere conversation such as we just observed before being subjected to it.”

“Certainly not,” Emeralaphine said disdainfully.

“Actually, we got the first person trying that just four days ago,” Pheneraxa added. “He was good, too—apparently he never stated aloud to anyone or even wrote down his plan before planting the false scenes with acquaintances. The Storyteller constructed a whole pastiche of events from his life showing off his favored tactics of deception, using them to frame his intended setups in such a way as to make it clear they were lies.”

“That’ll be the bardic influences,” Izayaroa murmured. “It is a critical mistake among rulers to try to forcibly silence criticism. Artists and storytellers evolve from nuisances to threats if you force them to get creative.”

“Bardic,” Clarent repeated, frowning. “As in… I could almost interpret that to mean this thing is invoking multiple gods to weave its productions. Unlikely as that seems, I do know enough magical theory to understand that if it were an artificial intelligence it would already be insane and plotting its creators’ undoing, and that you of course would know that too well to trust it.”

“You might be surprised what I am capable of,” Emeralaphine said pleasantly.

“I surely would be, good lady,” Clarent replied with a gallant bow. “In any case, if you have now had it in operation long enough that people are trying to devise countermeasures, I am assuredly not the only one to have intuited that much. As your use of the device has involved showings its functions to hostile actors and then sending them back where they came from…there will be no putting that cat back in the bag.”

“And what other course would you suggest?” Kaln demanded. “We can hardly silence everyone who is allowed to see it.”

“No indeed, my lord,” Clarent agreed smoothly. “I believe your strategy is the correct one. You have little need to remind the Evervales that Dragonvale is to be feared; it would cost you everything you are trying to build if you made yourself seem cruel and unreasonable. I would suggest some enhancements, however. Out of curiosity, could this device be…modified further?”

He turned back to position Emeralaphine and Pheneraxa right in his field of view.

“Modified to do what, exactly?” Pheneraxa asked testily.

“Oh, I would hesitate even to make a suggestion in that vein,” Clarent said with a self-effacing little smile. “I have my own area of special interest, you see, and I fear that magic beyond the widely known basic theory is over my head. To the particular end of staying ahead of those who will already be hard at work trying to figure out how to counter the Storyteller, if it can be modified at all, that would be progress.”

“Ah,” Emeralaphine said, her expression clearing. “Of course. It is immediately many times more difficult to analyze a moving target.”

“Just so, my lady,” Clarent agreed. “Since so many have already seen it, it is no longer possible to conceal its existence; the game now becomes a footrace in which you must stay ahead of those developing countermeasures, or even their own version.”

“Countermeasures are…possible,” Emeralaphine mused, gazing at the crystal-tipped obelisks and spell-engraved disc that comprised the Storyteller’s surprisingly humble physical form. “I’m not sure at first thought how even I would achieve such a thing…though I’m sure I could come up with something given time and motivation. No one else is going to reproduce it, however.”

“It is surely beyond doubt that you are a peerless mage, my lady,” Clarent began, but the dragon waved a white claw at him impatiently.

“It’s not a question of who’s the best mage—that entire framing misunderstands the complexity and nature of magic. I do not consider myself even in the running for most powerful magic user alive, even to the limited extent that power can be thus quantified. What I am is the preeminent magical generalist. There is no other mage at or near my level who has not heavily specialized into their own particular interest, whereas I remain a specialist in versatility. That is why the Storyteller is not about to be duplicated; there is no other single practitioner able to use the necessary variety of magical specialties at the necessary level. It would take a consortium of wizards and priests which is very unlikely to be assembled because, even aside from the fact that such people instinctively don’t get along, it’s unlikely to occur to anyone that such a relevant diversity of skillsets would do the job.”

“You can get away with a lot just by being a big enough deal to have your own sobriquet,” Pheneraxa said sweetly. “A lot of people will just shrug and say, ‘oh well, it’s the White Wind, what can you do?’”

Emeralaphine arched en eyebrow at her, at which her daughter just smiled.

“Speaking, then, purely on principle as it stands in my field of specialty,” Clarent said smoothly, “for purposes of staying ahead of counter-actors and imitators alike, it would be ideal of the Storyteller remained a work in progress, not only continuing to adjust and expand its capabilities, but to be seen doing so in a manner which generates conflicting reports among witnesses. The absolute gold standard would be if it also acquired a constantly rotating set of additional cosmetic features—not actually functional, but appearing to any magically skilled observers as if they must be.”

“Now that…is an intriguing idea,” Emeralaphine said, a slow smile curling up her lips. “And you claim to be uneducated in the arcane arts? I could almost suspect you of dissembling, spymaster.”

“I merely raise ideas in the hypothetical,” Clarent demurred. “I take it as given that one does not issue instructions to the White Wind.”

“There is one who may,” she replied with a warm glance at Kaln, “but for everyone else, you assume correctly. One can, however, entice the White Wind to work on something by dangling an intriguing challenge in front of her nose, and I don’t believe for an instant that an educated man such as yourself would enter this lair without knowing that much and more simply from historical accounts.”

“You have me dead to rights, my lady,” Clarent acknowledged, bowing again. “I never approach anyone without doing my research.”

Once again, Kaln met Izayaroa’s eyes, and she inclined her head fractionally. It was obvious, now, how Clarent had not only arranged his own audition but proceeded to ace it, beginning with his feat of wrangling his way in here by somehow persuading the ancient ghosts on guard duty to just let him in. And since the Storyteller had indicated he was acting in good faith…

“Since you are being generous with your advice, monsieur,” he said quietly, “what in general do you see as Dragonvale’s greatest need, with regard to espionage?”

Clarent turned back to him with a serious expression which made Kaln suspect he had just given the man exactly the opportunity for which he had been waiting.

“The issue, my lord, is that you must build your entire spy apparatus entirely from the ground up, starting from nothing. You have the honor of being the very first Vale state to be in this position. Were Dragonvale a normal country it would already have fallen, but I see no reason to think you should fear that outcome. The true danger is being excluded from the great game while it continues all around you, at your expense. True isolation can only work in pursuit of a strategy like the Dread’s, and always ends up as he ultimately dead. As I surmise that you intend to be a good citizen of the community of nations, you will need to build an intelligence agency capable of contending with theirs.”

He began to pace slowly while he spoke, his movements methodical and controlled.

“Thanks to the Storyteller, Dragonvale for now has proven invulnerable to outside incursion. In your attempts to engage your rivals on their own or neutral ground, that condition is reversed. You have no capacity to act, and thus remain vulnerable to isolation.”

Kaln nodded, having already discussed this with Tiavathyris and Izayaroa. While he had no aspiration to dominate the other Vale states, he could not simply refuse to engage with them; his wives had emphasized the dangers of isolation. Dragonvale needed trade and diplomacy, and for all the physical power it could bring to bear, could still end up a billiard ball in international affairs to be shunted about by more adept maneuverers if they could not find a way to contend with rivals directly—without burning them to the ground.

“And that is what you, as spymaster, could provide,” he said.

“I warn you, my lord,” Clarent said sternly, “that acquiring an expert spymaster is but one step that can expedite the necessary process, but there is no step that will get you there as fast as you need to. Yes, I have the requisite skills, and also quite a few connections—my own, that is, and still accessible to me. Many of the webs of resources I have built up over the last decade belong to the crown of Boisverd and thus remain impossible or too dangerous for me to tap on your behalf. You have other advantages; some progress can be made swiftly in building your intelligence agency by spending some of your hoarded wealth, or applying the fear of dragon attack. Ultimately, however, a spy network is a thing of connections. To create it requires skill, effort, and above all, time. There is simply no escape from the situation: Dragonvale stands at a crippling disadvantage against the other Vale powers in terms of intelligence, and will for years to come. You cannot escape this problem by threatening it, throwing money at it, or hiring experts.”

“Very well, you have made your point,” said Kaln. “I presume you are leading up to the strategy you recommend?”

“Yes, my lord,” Clarent replied with a deep nod, nearly a bow. “I believe that Dragonvale’s only option is diplomacy. You must enter intelligence-sharing treaties with your allies—with Boisverd, Rhivaak, and Shamissar—and accept the reality that with very little to offer them, you will be in the subordinate position and forced to offer steep concessions, as well as being vulnerable to your allies’ influence. Clearly Dragonvale must focus on escaping this situation, but that will, as I said, be a process of years.”

“And naturally,” Izayaroa said softly, “you feel that Boisverd would be the most valuable of these allies.”

“That is indeed the present situation,” Clarent replied, turning a candid gaze upon her, “and one best mitigated by forming additional alliances among other Vale powers. For the moment, however, only Boisverd is positioned to be of much use to you in the great game. Rhivaak’s intelligence agency is internally focused and, to be frank, not able to contend with most Vale states, and Shamissar has few assets in this part of the world because it is heretofore so removed from their own interests. I still very strongly recommend entering intelligence-sharing treaties with these countries, my lord, with an eye to the future. Rhivaak will doubtless be increasing its capabilities over the coming years as the change in Dragonvale’s status brings it into more direct contact with the Vales, and as Shamissar is working on developing economic ties with Boisverd you have the opportunity to increase your standing with the Sovereign by providing him with local intelligence. For now, however, Boisverd alone has the means to introduce you to the Vales as a fellow player, owed respect.”

“So,” Kaln murmured, “you’re saying…I will need to basically beg Henrietta for the use of her spies.”

“Dragonvale begs no one for anything,” Emeralaphine snorted. “Particularly Henrietta.”

“That is true,” Clarent agreed. “Her Majesty is not in a position to deny you anything you ask; the concern is more that the more you ask from her, the more she will leverage her importance to you to extract concessions. Even this need not be a grave burden, given your relationship, but on general principles it would be wise to diversify your relationships so as not to over-rely on any one source of intelligence.”

Izayaroa nodded once.

Sharamin cleared his spectral throat. “My lord, we have hardly been carelessly tossing people out with no regard when the Storyteller deems them untrustworthy.”

“It’s true,” Pheneraxa added, “the Legionaries have been taking meticulous notes. I appreciate their efforts, it’s left me free to concentrate on dealing with applicants and handling the Storyteller.”

Both ghosts on guard bracketing the door saluted.

“The Storyteller has incidentally revealed a great deal about everyone brought before it,” Sharamin continued. “Between your work judging all the bandits, and the Young Mistress’s less intensive sessions over the last month, we have assembled a detailed map of active players and their capabilities, concentrated chiefly in the region closest to Dragonvale but with data extending to most inhabited parts of what used to be Valereld. I have had analysts at work cross-referencing everything with publicly available information about currently extant and active nations, Houses, and guilds. While Monsieur Clarent is correct in that we have little ability to do anything with this information, we are far from blind. I suspect we know many details which our allies and opponents alike do not.”

“Fine work, Commander!” Kaln praised.

“Very fine work indeed,” Clarent agreed, suddenly on point like a coursing hound. “In fact, that changes the entire equation. Some of that information will have become obsolete already, as the way it was gathered will have tipped off the subjects that you know it and given them time to take countermeasures, but even that is not valueless. Simply knowing what one’s rivals have been up to recently adds important context that can help predict what they will do next. My lord, with this documentation, you can actually approach an intelligence-sharing agreement with Boisverd as an equal rather than a supplicant.”

It really was incredible how good the Phantom Legion were at everything, except apparently fighting an actual war. For Kaln, who had zero interest in doing that, they were the perfect army.

“I thank you for your observations, sir,” he said, “as well as your recommendations. I think I will also take you up on the suggestion of acquiring more thorough background information before making a hiring decision.”

“I advise making that a general policy, my lord,” Clarent agreed, “for any future important hires. That is one area in which this thing compensates decisively for the lack of an established institution to perform background checks. By the way, I assume you are conducting regular sessions with already-cleared personnel to ensure they have remained uncompromised?”

All three dragons glanced at one another, frowning.

“Everybody’s been here for a month or less,” Pheneraxa protested. “And they’ve had no opportunity to be compromised.”

“That makes it the perfect time to establish this policy before something occurs which necessitates it,” Clarent said smoothly. “I would recommend setting up an irregular schedule such that all personnel expect they will be subjected to a Storyteller scan at some point soon, without ever knowing exactly when.”

“That seems…paranoid,” Kaln noted. “I recall someone telling me recently that paranoia puts you at a disadvantage.”

“Sensible precautions are one of the most important means of preventing paranoia,” Clarent said severely. “There is no such thing as an absolute defense, my lord. An adequate defense begins to fail the moment it is presumed to be absolute; the day you stop checking for cracks in the walls, the one that will eventually break them begins to form.”

Emeralaphine and Izayaroa both looked…oddly disgruntled. Kaln had learned to identify the very specific look on an elder dragon’s face that occurred when she recognized good sense but did not appreciate having to be reminded of it.

“Very well then,” he said, “pending that last background check, I suppose the only remaining question is… When can you start?”

Smiling benignly, Clarent bowed to him. “Why, my lord, it would appear that I already have.”