"Arabian Nights"
Part 91
by Mel
When Viggo didn't show for his first appointment Jared frowned. With the Caliph's birthday celebrations over with Viggo wasn't nearly as busy as what he had been, but he still had the general running of the kingdom to worry about. With the strengthened bonds between some of the cities and surrounding kingdoms Jared had noticed a distinct rise in the workload.
The appointment with the finance minister was rather important, it involved the use of funds for some of Viggo's projects, like the school for the street children. These things were important to the Prince, Jared knew he'd been looking forward to this meeting as it was time to start the proper planning phases for his radical ideas.
"Orlando, have you seen the Prince?"
He was sitting beneath the tree with Elijah's head rested on a pillow in his lap. There was a collection of children's books around them. Elijah had been trying to teach Orlando how to read and it seemed they had progressed to the use of actual books now.
"He had a meeting this morning, didn't he?"
"Which he is late for." Jared scowled, the Prince wasn't often tardy at all.
"I haven't seen him all day," Elijah sat up.
"He didn't come to bed last night, but I thought he must have been with Sean."
"Sean was with me all night, he even said he'd let the Prince sleep in this morning."
Jared took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to panic anyone. "When was the last time someone saw the Prince?"
"Yesterday at Lunch," Orlando said promptly. "He said he had a lot to prepare for todays meeting and asked if I'd be able to look after myself."
"He left soon after lunch yesterday," Billy said as he and Dom came into the garden, carrying a tray of food and drink each.
All five Kittens looked at each other.
"He couldn't have just disappeared," Elijah said logically. "Someone must know where he went."
"Is Viggo here?" Sean called from just outside the doorway, "Liv needs him to sign off on a few things- What's happened?"
"No one's seen the Prince since yesterday," Orlando stood, the words wavering a little towards the end.
Jared rubbed his hands against his vest, they were sweating a little. He walked aimlessly as Sean began to quiz the other boys. He walked through the bedroom, nothing was missing from it, if Viggo had disappeared he'd taken only the clothes on his back.
On the desk in his office was a dagger sitting upright in the wood. It drew Jared's attention up front, Viggo wasn't neat with his things, but he wouldn't purposely destroy the desk. Plucking the letter from beneath the blade made Jared's eyes widen. For a moment he couldn't believe what he was reading then before he could think he was crying out in alarm.
"Sean!"
---
It was just like Viggo to do this to him. Dom scowled to himself. The whole group was in an uproar and seemed incapable of conscious thought in this state. It was ridiculous. They were all grown men faced with a minor disaster and they acted like a bunch of children.
Dom knew he probably wasn't being fair, but they were all being quite useless. Elijah and Jared were at a loss, doing the only thing they could, supporting Sean and Karl. However, Karl had started shouting at his guards, quite predictably, and leaving Sean trying to get useful information out of them. Neither had any form of information gathering skills to speak of.
Billy had wandered off, he said there was something he wanted to double check. Dom hadn't asked, he knew it would give Billy cause to question him on what he was about to do.
Orli, well, hadn't quiet reacted how Dom expected him to. He had expected tears and shouts and frustration. Instead Orli sat with his back pressed against the tree.
"I'm waiting for him to come home."
So Dom was going to bring him home.
Sitting in the chair Dom looked over the letter. It had to be personally written. Letters of treasoness matters couldn't be left to underlings, they were too much of a hinderence. They could spook too quick and a trail of dead bodies were no good whe trying to kill royalty. Dom would bet his head that this was the same group that sent him to kill Viggo and had a mage strong enough to make him sick from afar.
Though it certainly didn't bode well in Viggo's favour, it meant that they were getting desperate and sloppy. Dom pulled a fresh sheet of paper from beneath the piles on Viggo's desk, he really needed a maid in here, and an ink well before he began copying the letter.
---
"Ishtar, my sweet!"
The slightly balding and completely overweight old man lifted his head from his pages. Dom plastered his sweetest smile on his face. Ishtar was completely disgusting. He wasn't diseased and he kept clean and smelt quiet nice. He just liked his food a little much Dom's taste. But as royal scribe and bookkeeper for the Caliph he was a good friend to keep.
"Dominic my boy." The man smiled, his desert accent thick. He'd told Dom boastful stories of his youth with the bandits, some of which had turned out to be surprisingly true. He still retrained the accent from his youth though Dom got the impression most of it was put on. "What brings you down to my lair?"
"I'm such a klutz," He held up a letter practically dripping with ink. "You know the hand writing of every nobleman everywhere, I was hoping you could help me out?"
Ishtar couldn't quiet hide the greedy look in his eyes as he took the letter from Dom's hands. Ishtar loved a juicy bit of gossip and he didn't get to read the Prince's mail very often. The second letter, forged by Dom, had taken him time. Ishtar's eyes were too good and if Dom had done a bad job he'd pick up the forgery up front. Everything seemed in order though as Ishtar scanned the page.
"So rude, questioning the use of the Prince's own funds for the school. He's giving those poor children a better chance at life then we had, isn't he Dominic?"
Dom was glad for Ishtar's liking of the Prince and being able play on his sympathetic side. He was a good man and this Lord would have more to worry about if someone didn't see fit to kill him. Ishtar would sow discontent amongst the staff and servants that would quickly spread to the rest of Aqaba. Making use of such an effective rumour mill had its uses.
"It certainly is," Dom preened the man's feathers for him. "I just need a name, so the Prince can send an adequate response when he returns."
It's Lord Walken, the Caliph's cousin," Ishtar handed the letter back. "I would know that writing and flowering speech anywhere. He's a nasty piece of work, your Lord should get that young Jared to send the reply, he has a nice way of writing."
"A nasty piece of work?" Dom pulled up a chair. He'd hoped Ishtar had some stories for him. "How? He must have done some dastardly things to upset your gentle soul."
The flattery and chance to gossip did it's job and Ishtar
lent forward, speaking in hushed tones, told Dom everything he knew of Lord
Christopher Walken.
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