the audacity of imagination

Nick stares out the window of the heavily-armored car as it crawls slowly up the lane, drumming his fingers absently against the doorframe.

There was a time when he wouldn't even have noticed the weight of the armor, the presence of the bodyguard in the front seat and the equally-beweaponed driver, or any of the myriad levels of security that surround him; it's all just part of being Nicholas John Andrew Sayre, favored nephew of the Most Honorable Edward Sayre, Chief Minister of Ancelstierre.

Now it just feels suffocating, the more so since he's shut in this car on the way to Dorrance Hall instead of north to the Wall, where he dearly wishes to go.

"Uncle--"

Beside him in the backseat of the car, Edward Sayre shuts the book he's been reading with a sharp 'snap.'

"I suppose you've been patient enough," he says, dryly. "You've made it almost the whole trip without a single question. Dare I hope you've figured it out yet?"

Nick gives him a suspicious look, and his uncle chuckles.

"Think about it, Nicholas. Am I in the habit of attending house parties given by men like Alastor Dorrance out in the back of beyond?"

"Well, no, but--"

"More importantly, have I ever taken you or any other of my nephews or nieces to such an event before?"

"Definitely not," Nick agrees, with a slight shudder.

"Then put that scientific mind of yours to work, young man, and consider just why it might be that you are sitting here with me now."

Nick stares at him, paying very little heed as the car slows to pass the gate and the several guards surrounding it, all of whom do a thorough job of checking the security not only on the Sayre car, but on the police motorcyclists in front and behind them, as well as the four trucks carrying the fully-armed military company that's escorting their motorcade.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Very good," his uncle approves. "You're quite right; there is something you can help me with, and under the circumstances, if you do, I might be persuaded to not only grant you the pass over the Wall that you so desire, but to provide you the transport to get there and back again."

Even as Nick's face lights up with hope, Edward Sayre raises his hand.

"First things first. Have you ever wondered what Dorrance actually does, other than annoy polite society by parading his eccentricities every quarter like clockwork in the middle of Corvere?"

"No," Nick admits, honestly. "The scenes he causes always seemed quite enough reason to avoid him."

"All for show," his uncle tells him, and Nick's jaw drops.

"Bloody-- but why?"

"Alastor Dorrance is the head of Department Thirteen. Dorrance Hall is where the Department has its main research facility."

"I thought Department Thirteen was all stories for the cinema," Nick protests. "Tales for the conspiracy-lovers, made up to give them something to point and talk about. Do you mean to say it's not?"

"Officially, there's no such thing," Edward replies. "But the truth is that yes, it's very real. Every government has need of its spies, Nicholas, and Department Thirteen manages ours quite well. Their files are extremely extensive, almost as much as their interests. But there's one area Dorrance hasn't yet managed to penetrate, and in which he has great interest."

He looks at his nephew. "The Old Kingdom."

Nick bolts upright in his seat. "You can't expect me to spy on my friends!"

Edward Sayre sighs. "Nicholas. Calm yourself. I've not asked you to do any such thing. But the fact of the matter is that your experiences have given you a unique perspective and a good deal of information of the sort that Dorrance is desperate to learn more about, and it's quite possible that he might discover something useful from talking to you. Just spend the weekend, answer his questions, and you shall have your Perimeter pass on Monday morning -- if you're still determined to go."

"You may depend upon that, Uncle," Nick informs him, crisply. He settles into his seat, considering it, as the car pulls the rest of the way up the drive.

"All I have to do is answer questions?"

"That, and a bit of misdirection. Appear at the dinner parties, and so forth. All very routine, really."

"Then it's a deal," Nick agrees, and shakes his uncle's hand. "Who knows, a bit of boring routine might even be refreshing."




[ooc: adapted from Nicholas Sayre and the Creature in the Case, chapter 1.]