Daneel didn't know what he had been expecting from the teleportation matrix, but when the sound of at least five people chatting reached his ears first before his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings, he knew that he was in trouble.
Of course, the hope had been that he would be taken right to the beggar king, but now, this seemed stupid as no one would set up such a direct access way to someone so important. There would be one last checkpoint, at least, and apparently, that was where he was headed.
Information about this place had been scarce, as of course, not many people had gotten the chance to get till where he was. There wasn't even a need to do so if they wanted to meet their beloved king; every week, the man went out, himself, heavily guarded by hundreds of soldiers to meet his people and find out their worries.
"Michael? Weren't you assigned to squadron six, currently sweeping through the south-eastern island? What are you doing here?"
A gruff voice entered his ears right as vision returned to him. He was in a small room with crystal sconces on one side and a single door on the other. The carpet was soft, and the walls were painted a light cream…but Daneel's eyes were fixed on the five soldiers standing at attention in front of the door, with four of them already half drawing out the swords at their waists to take care of their unexpected guest.
Daneel felt slight panic hit him, but he controlled it quickly and kept his face neutral. Holding up the paper he had shown before, he said, "A message from the captain to the king, for his eyes alone. He asked me to deliver it himself. This could be called a time of war, I suppose."
He said the last part in case the guards didn't remember the protocol, but soon, he saw that this was a mistake.
Four of the guards did relax, but the one who had spoken, who seemed to be the leader of all five, pursed his lips and said, "We know our duties, brat. I didn't think you had built such a backbone after leaving your mother's breasts just a few months ago. Well, go on, then. The king must not be kept waiting."
All of them were wearing the same head to toe, seamless silvery armor that had been worn by the guards that the beggar king had brought along to Graiton. Daneel noticed this now that the danger was oast, and as soon as he did so, he recalled vividly what had happened then and felt the anticipation that had already come to life within his mind grow even more.
Hints of it seemed to show on his face as he walked towards the door, though, as the captain stopped him right before he left. In a voice that sent his heart racing, he asked, "How is your mother, by the way? Has she gotten over your da', yet?"
The exact thing that he had hoped would not happen had come to be. He knew that he was soon going to sweat, so he asked the system to control those glands while he thought about what he should do.
He had seen such scenes in movies back on earth, and the most unexpected answer was usually the right one. He wasn't really taken with the idea of hinging such an important decision on the ideas of filmmakers from his home planet, so…turning to the cheat that had helped him so much so far, he asked, "System? Cross-reference micro-expression analysis with data of people asking questions whose answers are supposed to be common knowledge. If no match is found, check with the data of those where the questions asked are trick ones."
For once, he wished that he could use the technique that had saved his life many times on Angaria. Because he couldn't slow down time to think, though, the silence that stretched on was getting more and more uncomfortable, and it seemed that any second, the captain would give in to his suspicions and order him to be arrested.
He had hoped that with its upgraded capabilities, the system would give him an answer in a second, but the data he asked for was too obscure. Hence, he saw that he had to take a decision with whatever knowledge he had, so as he went through its message…a flash of insight suddenly struck him, and he turned and said, "No way. She never stops missing that madman…and you know as well as I do that she still drinks herself silly now and then, when she remembers him."
For a pregnant moment, they looked at each other, the captain's grey eyes drawn down. Daneel had taken a gamble based on four data points that he, himself, had managed to connect to choose the answer with the highest probability…but still, he was unsure about whether he was right.
Suddenly, like sunshine peeking out of the clouds after a storm, a smile broke out on the man's face, and Daneel almost heaved a sigh of relief. With a nod, the captain gestured towards the door and said, "How can she? My father still talks about how he was such a daring desperado. Well? Go on then. Quickly! The captain's words shouldn't be kept waiting!"
Daneel felt like cursing at him that he was the reason behind the delay, but keeping his mouth shut, he obeyed and left with a nod.
Hope. The man had hoped that Daneel was who he looked like. This meant that he had some sort of connection with Daneel, and it seemed to be a close one. Of course, one might be able to gather this from what the man had said, too, but because he had seen the hope, he was confident about the fact that the man cared for him.
In the few days that he had been here, he had learned at least a bit about the culture and customs of the land. Here, everyone loved wine, and many times, men and women competed in drinking, too.
The point that had made him decide that it was not very probable that the captain was talking about a father who was still present was that the fact that he cared for him meant that he might just be a father figure. And finally, the final thing that had made him decide to give the answer was that there was no way that the mother could be dead, as if that were so, he wouldn't have talked about her in the way that he had before asking the question.
In the narrow corridor beyond the door that was empty, he patted himself on his back. He had saved himself with his own quick thinking, and that was definitely to be applauded.
The corridor ended at another wooden door that let to a large library, filled with hundreds of books. The bookcases that reached the ceiling made Daneel lust after the knowledge they contained, but on the other end of the room was the place he had come for.
The entire thing was made of metal, with a large, single door set in the middle. It was closed, right now, with the only indication of it even present there being a handle that was also made of metal.
It was the vault, meant to protect the valuables of the beggar king and even himself, in periods of strife.
There was supposed to be a guard here, too, but it looked like they might have been sent somewhere else. The library wasn't very small, and from where he was, Daneel couldn't see it all. The bookcases made corridors, and in front of him, only the main one stretched out, leading straight to the door of the vault.
Breathing in deeply, he checked the time with the system and saw that he didn't have much left. Even though he really, really wanted to flip through all the books and then handle the king…it would be too risky, so with a grimace, he headed to the door.
Reaching it, he raised one hand to knock at a place that was indicated by a slight depression, but just as he was about to do so…a voice appeared from his right, and he felt his body freeze, pressure pressing in from all sides, as if he had suddenly been held by an invisible giant.
"Oh? What is this? Rebels in the streets, and a master assassin gunning for the self-proclaimed beggar king, himself? The assassin is even using an elven charm! Oh, they are very skilled in magic, yes, but their charms can easily be detected…so tell me who you are, and I might give you an easy death. If it weren't for the business agreement we have with the one beyond that door, I would let you get on with it just to enjoy the fallout… But I'm afraid that would cause problems for me. So…spit it out!"
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