The Oreans

Chapter 14

Chapter 14
Guests and Dealings

"Sir Ivan, Master says you be in his office."

Divan put down the document he was perusing and turned to the stocky man behind him. "Why?"

"I don' know, sir. Maybe he's thought over..." Fulton advanced towards him glumly. "You're not changin' your mind, sir, ain't you? You're leavin'?"

Placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder, Divan glanced at the open door. "You alone know why I'm here, Fulton."

"You're tryin' to catch the boss of course."

"He's innocent. I am certain of that now."

"But-" Fulton's face screwed up in thought. "But that man told us he's his friend."

"Maybe it was a ploy to get the authorities off his track."

"A what to get what?"

"Never mind." Divan checked the timepiece on his bedside table. "It's almost dinnertime. Are you sure he wants me to meet him in his office?"

"Positive, sir."

"I'm going then."

Fulton followed him out of his room and closed it for him. Divan thanked him and headed for the door at the end of the passage that was simply adorned by a silvery plaque bearing the name of the baron of Ambian.

It had nearly been two months since he came here, forgoing his personal pursuit to spy on a suspected enemy of the commander, following Fulton and Gord's lead. Yet his investigation was not taking him anywhere. Gord had long vanished; Divan thought the full blast of his master's wrath had fallen on him. Fulton himself had proved to be innocent, having been involved in the affair under Gord's influence and because of a certain amount of ignorance.

Still, it was with his help Divan had been able to secure a job as the baron's personal secretary, a fruitless endeavor since Lord Trevor's connection with the affair could not be established at all. For one, the baron did not even know Lord Melvil personally to have a probable motive. Divan found out that his association was limited to his province. The barony was under the jurisdiction of the Duke de Lys, but the correspondence between them was as stiff as the rod Lord Trevor always walked around with. He even had few friends among the men of his rank, which Divan understood must be due to his humble beginnings as the son of a handmaid who had belatedly learned of his status as the sole heir of a fairly large estate. The baron was less likely to be involved in, much less the man behind the commander's ambush. Whatever Gord had told Fulton must be a bunch of lies.

As he turned the knob, Divan heaved a sigh. He supposed he was still in luck to have deceived Trevor so far. For some reason, Fulton had given him his allegiance and miraculously had kept from blundering about his secret. So for the baron, Divan was still the brainy spineless type he purported to be.

The baron himself seemed not to be the sort who could hold himself up in a fight, Divan thought, as he always had, when his eyes befell the middle-aged man writing behind the desk. Lord Trevor had the pinched appearance of one who had just got out of his sickbed. Though not yet fifty, his hair was already thinning and graying and his face lined. He wore big-rimmed spectacles and outmoded and oversized clothing. His cane was leaning against the table, ready to serve him when he got up as his skinny legs could barely take his weight at all.

"You asked for me, sir?" Divan said as the baron had not yet seemed to notice his presence.

Lord Trevor went on writing, not even acknowledging Divan's words.

"Sir?"

"You're resigning," the baron said baldly but without looking up.

"I am sorry, sir."