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“It suits you,” Valin said. He happily eyed Yandro’s silver earring newly adorned with a small amethyst.
Yandro’s face warmed a bit but he smiled with pleasure. His legitimization by royal decree had moved him a notch higher in society and permitted him to bear the emblematic stone of a commoner of high position in a government ministry. Only his bastardy had disallowed him the privilege despite being aide to Ylandre’s foremost diplomat.
“It isn’t a birthright though,” he demurred.
Valin scoffed. “Nay, you earned it by dint of hard work and and more wits than any two highborn Deira have between them,” he shot back. “I rather think that counts for more.”
Yandro’s blush deepened as evidenced by the greater heat in his cheeks. He gestured to the sheets of parchment Valin had brought with him.
“So what do we have here?”
“These are the most promising. The others are either inexperienced in the field or have committed errors that indicate habitual carelessness or a failure to recognize the seriousness of a situation. I warrant Lord Jareth would prefer not to deal with staff members so raw or obtuse.”
Yandro motioned to Valin to take one of the seats in front of his desk. Setting his cup of milk tea to one side, he leaned forward in his chair to pore over the documents arrayed on the desktop.
“He wouldn’t,” Yandro agreed. “Especially since he’s being given the more sensitive assignments these days.”
Valin smiled with satisfaction. “I thought so. Which is why we took great care in screening all the applicants. But for one who comes... highly recommended, I believe these Deira will meet his standards.”
Yandro lifted his eyebrows at Valin’s doubtful pause before he cited the one applicant’s suitability. That suggested the Deir had the strong backing of someone high up in the Ministry whether he was capable or not.
He meticulously read every document detailing the various candidates’ qualifications to join the Hadrana staff.
A recent round of rotations, promotions, and dismissals of various personnel in the corps had left almost all the diplomatic staffs shorthanded. Valin and his deputy had spent the better part of the past fortnight screening applicants for the newly opened positions. Now it was up to Yandro to approve the Deira they had listed as acceptable.
One had been posted abroad thrice for varying lengths of time. This one Yandro was inclined to accept without reservations since he would come on board with some experience in foreign cultures and laws. Two others had served in various capacities at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and as such their skills would mostly be administrative or clerical. The Deir Valin had singled out however was fairly new—barely two months in his current position as secretary to the Deputy Minister. Why had he been recommended to join Jareth’s staff?
Yandro frowned as he read the Deir’s educational and professional history.
Gawyn Caerzon was barely a year out of university yet he had gained a fairly coveted position so quickly. Usually, new graduates started out as clerical workers or assistant archivists unless they’d been brilliant students with glowing referrals from their instructors. But there was nothing outstanding in this Deir’s academic records. And he was no highborn blueblood either to warrant such consideration.
“He’s related to the Minister through his birthing father,” Valin softly informed him. “In fact, it was his ama who applied for the position on Caerzon’s behalf.”
Yandro glanced at him a little chagrined. Was he that easy to read? Or perhaps Valin had simply come to know him quite well. He dropped his gaze to the document again. A quick perusal of Caerzon’s family background confirmed Valin’s assertion.
He shook his head. He had no liking or patience for indulgent parents or their indulged progeny. It was hard enough working alongside skilled people while ensuring their individual ambitions did not obstruct peaceful and cooperative relations. Someone who expected to have his way by dint of his connections was not desirable, especially if he sowed divisiveness and resentment among his fellows. Yandro hoped this was not going to be case with Caerzon.
He sighed and laid down the sheaf of documents. “We don’t have much choice with this one, do we?” he sardonically remarked.
Valin nodded, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “He wasn’t so much recommended as foisted on us,” he murmured.
“Succinctly put.” Yandro grimaced. “I pray he’ll turn out more talented than his records indicate thus far.”
“Unlikely,” Valin muttered. “He was never trained or tested.”
“Indeed. Does he think being cousin to the Minister excuses him from working as hard as the others?”
“He’s the Minister’s nephew,” Valin said with a grin. “And apparently, yes.”
Yandro snorted. “I don’t give a damn if he’s the Minister’s favorite love child. He’ll undergo training and testing with the rest of them if I have to personally oversee every session. I won’t have some lackadaisical ingénue undermining the efficiency of our staff.”
Valin nodded in approval. “Agreed.”
Well, it was not as if the Deir would become a permanent staffer at once. All the applicants would have to undergo probation, which Yandro would supervise until Jareth was assigned another foreign posting. At that point, Yandro would turn over their supervision to Valin. In the meantime, Yandro would have ample opportunity to observe the newcomers and assess their abilities or lack thereof. It would be interesting to see how long Caerzon would last before he finally outstayed his welcome.
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Gawyn Caerzon looked as young as Yandro had expected and behaved much the way a sheltered, indulged youth would. He was also very attractive. With his ivory complexion, rosy cheeks, and thickly lashed hazel eyes in a heart-shaped face framed by gleaming, straight, black hair, he reminded Yandro of the porcelain dolls the Khitairans loved to display in their parlors. They were undeniably lovely and painstakingly crafted, but good for nothing but to pretty up a room.
From the way Gawyn chattered about everything without really going into depth about anything, Yandro pegged him as a decorative piece rather than a functional one.
Despite his misgivings about Gawyn’s abilities, he decided to give the Deir a chance. Besides, as Valin had put it, it was not really their choice. Yandro knew he risked irking his superiors in the Ministry if he gainsaid one of their recommendations. He did not think it worth the potential detrimental effects on his position within the diplomatic corps.
He presented the newcomers to Jareth two days after confirming their inclusion in his staff.
Gathering the four Deira in Jareth’s office that morning and arranging them before the ambassador’s massive desk, he introduced them one by one, giving Jareth a brief history of each Deir. As usual, Jareth was cordial in response with each, but carefully aloof. That is, until Yandro presented Gawyn Caerzon.
He frowned and paused in his recounting of Gawyn’s background. Jareth’s eyes had glazed over, as if he were not seeing anything before him. It was so rare for the ambassador to become unfocused in the middle of a briefing it was cause for worry.
Yandro leaned down slightly so the others would not hear him. “What is wrong, Dyhar?” he softly asked. When Jareth looked at him a little uncomprehendingly, he explained. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Jareth seemed to snap out of his daze. “Nay, I just... He reminded me of someone.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “That is all. Think no more of it.”
He motioned to Yandro to continue. When Yandro was done, Jareth turned his attention to Gawyn.
Expecting him to extend a cursory greeting, Yandro was taken aback when Jareth smilingly said, “I understand you’ve only just left university. How long have you been working in the Ministry?”
Yandro traded a questioning glance with an equally puzzled Valin. Jareth had not exchanged more than the customary how-do-you-dos with the others.
“Almost a year, Your Excellency,” Gawyn replied. When Valin glared at him over the falsehood, color stained his face and he hastily said, “I mean, strictly speaking, two months. But I acted as my uncle’s personal secretary for nine. I consider it part of my work experience.
“The ambassador specifically asked how long you’ve worked in the Ministry,” Yandro reminded him. “Not your employment history in general.”
Gawyn’s flush deepened. “I, uh, misheard. I beg your pardon, Dyhar.”
Inattentive too, Yandro thought. Or quick to deny culpability. Not at all the sort of Deir Jareth deemed suitable for his staff.
A glance at Valin’s expression of mild exasperation confirmed Yandro’s assessment. He waited for the inevitable scolding Jareth meted out when faced with deceit or foolishness.
To their collective amazement, Jareth chuckled and in an almost fond tone said, “Just don’t make it a habit. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of Yandro. Or Valin for that matter.”
“Yes, Dyhar,” Gawyn stammered though not completely from abashment.
Yandro sensed some pleasure mixed in with his embarrassment. Well, when one’s superior did not take you to task for failing to respond appropriately upon meeting him for the first time and was even forgiving as well, one might be led to think one’s self high in favor. Gawyn very obviously believed this was the case.
Yandro frowned.
It was so unlike Jareth to be indulgent of a virtual stranger. Yandro wondered what was so special about Gawyn Caerzon to merit such gentle treatment from a Deir who could be snappish almost to the point of harsh when his exacting standards were not met.
––––––––
Yandro did not normally run short on patience even under the most trying of circumstances. His equanimity under fire often served him well—indeed saved his life or sanity and Jareth’s too on several occasions. But dealing with Gawyn Caerzon was proving the exception to the rule and Yandro wondered if he would end his career in the corps by way of murder. He was tempted to throttle Gawyn several times a day almost every day.
The Deir was prone to emotional outbursts, tended to impulsive action coupled with a minimum of thought, and nursed a somewhat cavalier attitude toward decorum. Worst of all, in Yandro’s opinion, Gawyn thought too highly of his abilities based on his swift ascent in the ranks. He seemed utterly unaware that nepotism rather than personal merit had gained him entry into the Ministry and his subsequent elevations.
Despite his best efforts to avoid crossing paths with Gawyn, the Deir waylaid him right after the midday meal as he made his way from the annex dining hall to the annex. Yandro stifled a sigh and forced himself to pay attention to the Deir. After a rambling preface which had Yandro impatiently glancing at the hallway timepiece, Gawyn excitedly proposed his solution to the brewing rift between Ylandre and one of its northern neighbors.
Yandro suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as Gawyn insisted on a course of action that could conceivably lead to a declaration of war on Ylandre at worst and a cessation of all communications at best.
“Let me remind you,” he said as neutrally as he could muster. “We are at odds with the Hegemony due to the meddling of folk who didn’t have the brains or tact to keep the peace. Sending a delegation to the Nazcan court without prior permission will be viewed as an act of disrespect toward the Triumvirate. They could accuse us of belligerence and even use that as an excuse to initiate aggression against us. We don’t need another hostile country along our border in addition to Teraz.”
“But why would they perceive it as disrespect?” Gawyn asked. “What is so offensive about sending a delegation to reopen diplomatic relations?”
“Sending one uninvited is what will offend them,” Yandro pointed out. “Disregarding their right to accept or refuse our overtures is unacceptable. It would indicate to them that we don’t recognize their equal sovereignty to Ylandre. It would be deemed terribly insulting.”
“I don’t understand. Why should it?”
“For the same reason our Ardan would take issue with a nonallied nation sending delegates to us without asking first if we would receive them. It simply isn’t done.”
“Here?” Gawyn was obviously skeptical. “Really?”
“Everywhere,” Yandro almost spat, allowing some of his exasperation to show. “Really, Gawyn, did you not read the material Valin gave you? All the policies and prohibitions one can expect were covered.”
Gawyn flushed. “Er, nay. I thought them rather obvious to the point of simplistic. And, well, so long as one has loads of common sense, one ought to manage well enough, don’t you think?”
“Common sense is far from enough to navigate the intricacies of protocol and international relations,” Yandro snapped. “If you don’t want to be responsible for a major conflict breaking out between Ylandre and another country, I suggest you apply yourself to learning them and committing each and every detail to memory.”
Gawyn pouted. “What for?” he muttered. “It isn’t as if I’ll be handling a diplomatic mission anytime soon, will I?”
Yandro bit back the sharp retort that teetered on the tip of his tongue and parted from the Deir as quickly as he could without appearing ungracious.
Saints above! It was taxing to talk to him. Gawyn was proving a real trial—a veritable torture rack. Yandro shook his head. Unfortunately, Gawyn also tended to forget he was a junior staffer who could still be let go if he did not perform up to par. And as far as Yandro was concerned, Gawyn was not performing up to par.
If not for the fortuitous timing of a much-deserved hiatus that kept Jareth in Ylandre for longer than usual, Gawyn’s faults would have come out much sooner. There was nothing like a posting overseas and all the difficulties of lengthy immersion in a foreign culture and exposure to its populace, not to mention coping with the inevitable political shenanigans, to efficiently separate the chaff from the wheat.
Either you managed to adapt and cope with the challenges of such assignments or you stumbled and made enough mistakes to warrant a demand for your resignation and a humbling return to Ylandre.
For this reason, Gawyn had been most fortunate that he’d spent almost all his training in Ylandre. He’d committed a number of blunders Yandro and the others had perforce scrambled to rectify before matters deteriorated further. It would have been worse had those errors occurred abroad where it was possible to affront one’s hosts with the silliest of mistakes.
Yet, here he was four months on and still a part of the staff. Yandro could not understand why but Jareth had insisted on keeping Gawyn on despite his dismal showing.
It was partly due to the almost instant rapport that had sprung up between the two, Yandro grudgingly admitted. For some unfathomable reason, Jareth tended to cosset Gawyn. He often gave him more allowance for his mistakes than he did others, including Yandro when he was still starting out.
Already talk of favoritism was on the rise and there was much speculation whether Jareth was interested in Gawyn beyond his duties as a staffer.
Yandro’s steady stride faltered and he almost halted in the middle of the corridor. He wondered if that was true. And he could not help being disheartened by the thought. Taking a moment to collect himself, he vowed to strengthen his resolve never to let anyone know he had fallen in love with his superior.