Emperor and Clown (21 page)

It
was likely only a moment, but when Azak spoke again his voice jarred loudly, as
if she had already slid over the lip of sleep.

“You
are right,” he said, “and I am wrong. I apologize.”

Amazing-historicall
“Mm? Well, don’t be surprised if it happens again some time.” Sleep ... “This
senator? Would he truly be willing to help, or would he turn us over to the
imperor’s torturers?”

“Don’t
know if he has any torturers,” Inos mumbled. “Not officially. Of course
Epoxague will help. I’m a relative, sort of.”

“I
am not!”

“Yes,
you are. They’ll be thrilled to discover they have a sultan in the family. The
nobility always stand by one another. Unless they actually catch you plotting
treason, yes, they’ll help.”

“Then
tomorrow you will send a letter and set up a rendezvous.”

“Yes,
dear. Tomorrow. Now may I sleep?”

Several
ways:

As
many several ways meet in one town; As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea;
As many lines close in the dial’s centre;

So
many a thousand actions, once afoot, End in one purpose ...

Shakespeare,
Henry V

Trysting Day

At
a hostelry on the outskirts of Hub, Andor had just sold the great coach. It had
served its purpose well, but it showed the wear and tear of that service-two of
the fancy lamps had fallen off, and a steadily growing crack in one of the
springs had been worrying Rap for the past few days. He had mentioned it to
Andor, so he could draw it to the buyer’s attention, but Andor hadn’t.

Now
Andor had rented a town carriage, a smaller but even more opulent contraption,
suitable for a lady of rank. “Really ought to have the Krasnegarian arms
emblazoned on the doors,” he remarked cheerfully. His broad hat and stylish
cloak glistened brightly, although the rest of the busy yard seemed drear under
a steady drizzle and a lowering dank sky.

It
was still barely noon. Gathmor was up on the carriage roof, fastening wet rope
over the luggage with expert sailor knots. Rap was making friends with the two
grays he had selected. Foggy and Smoky, he had named them, and they were
content with that.

Princess
Kadolan was fretting under an umbrella. She looked bedraggled, her hair lank in
the wet air. “I am still not sure that I agree with Sagorn’s plan,” she said.

Andor
smiled and opened his mouth, but she stepped quickly over to Rap. “We should
have consulted with you,” she said. “Doctor Sagorn and I had a long talk again,
this morning-about our best course of action.”

They
had been arguing the point for days, and Rap had rarely bothered to listen. He
was in Hub, and premonition was making his skin crawl. It lay on his heart like
lead. “Ma’am?”

“I
have many friends here, although most of them I have not seen in years. Senator
Epoxague, for example, is a third cousin of mine and a person of some standing
in the court! But Doctor Sagorn feels that we should go to his house, and ...
ah ... lay low for a few days.” She paused, and added wistfully, “I dislike
being furtive, I suppose.”

Rap
could see that she was just impatient to find Inos. He pondered for a moment.
He dared not call on his foresight for aid-that terrible white agony would be
upon him instantly. Instead, he weighed premonitions, and neither course felt
any less ominous than the other. He discovered that he was curious to see
Sagorn’s dwelling. Andor’s, also, of course. How did the five manage to keep
their great secret when they stayed a long time in one place, where they might
become known?

But
his occult talents were of little help, and that meant he must use his native
wits. He did not think they were likely to be of great assistance.

“I
am inclined to trust the old man’s judgment, ma’am,” he said uncomfortably. “After
all, you can reveal your presence at any time, but you can’t vanish again once
you have done so.”

Failing
to find an ally, the princess bit her lip. “I suppose that’s true.” She nodded
a gracious surrender to Andor and headed for the carriage step, where Gathmor
was waiting to hand her in. She paused and looked him over with approval. “You
are a very skilled footman, Captain! I hardly ever notice you now, and that is
the mark of quality service.”

Gathmor
stood stiffly at attention, a seemingly model retainer in shiny livery. “Sailors
can turn their hand to anything, ma’am,” he said, “even if they hate it!”

Princess
Kadolan recoiled, then disappeared into her new carriage without another word.

“Well,
that’s settled, I suppose,” Andor said, a gleam of amusement on his
too-handsome face. His raiment would have cost a factor’s clerk in Krasnegar
about three lifetimes’ wages.

Rap
gave Foggy a final pat while he looked the rig over once more with farsight.

Andor
paused at the carriage step. “The driving will be tricky, my man. I’d best give
you directions.” Rap’s nerves were too taut for jesting. “Just say right or
left when you want me to turn. You needn’t shout, either.”

Andor
flinched. “You can hear what we say inside?”

“When
I want to., Right or left out the gate?” Rap hauled himself up on the perch without
waiting for the answer.

“Left!”
Andor whispered crossly, and went to join the princess.

Hub
was huge. Andor had told him so, long ago, but Rap had never envisioned so many
leagues of busy streets and ostentatious architecture, and it all grew grander
and grander and busier and busier as he drove steadily into the heart of the
capital. Row after row of tenements for the poor gave way gradually to
respectable homes, and then to the great houses of the nobles beside parks, to
monuments and grandiose public buildings and temples ... above all, temples.
Dozens of temples.

Even
in the gloomy drizzle, Hub was overpowering. He could not imagine how glorious
it would be in sunshine.

Inside
the carriage, Kade was as excited as a child, and Andor smugly acted as tour
guide: pointing out, naming, explaining. “The temples are why this is called
the City of the Gods, ma’am. Every single God has a temple of Their own. ‘Tis
said the Imperial secretariat just keeps building them, so that whenever a new
God is added to the list, there is a temple ready waiting to be dedicated.”

“Fancy!
Well, I must visit some. And since it must have been the God of Love who
appeared to Inos, I should perhaps start with Theirs.”

“Er
... I advise against it! A lot of dubious characters hang out around that one.”

Rap
had little time to eavesdrop on the passengers or admire the city or brood
about his future. Despite himself, he was being forced to exercise some of his
powers, and he had no idea how mundane drivers could survive unscathed in such
tumultuous traffic. Carriages wheeled everywhere, all driven by maniacs, while
the rest of the population seemed to be holding footraces and watersports on
the same streets in fruitless efforts to stay dry. He thought he would much
rather drive over the causeway to Krasnegar at high tide in a gale. He survived
only because he had absolute control over his horses, and over all the other
horses, as well-his passing provoked much wellphrased cursing.

It
was a danger, of course. Some sorcerer might detect him, some warden’s votary
out hunting for recruits, but he thought that very unlikely. He had learned how
to use his talents now without shaking the ambience much, and he had just
become aware of another safeguard, here in Hub-there was a background shimmer
of sorcery and magic going on all the time. To track down a whisper of animal
mastery amid all that occult hubbub would be almost impossible.

He
caught a fleeting view of the golden turrets of East’s palace, and a much
briefer glimpse of the Opal Palace beyond, and then Andor’s instructions led
him south, away from the center.

Dark
was falling by the time he heard the welcome news that the hostelry ahead was
his destination. He pulled into the yard and stopped, and for a moment just sat
limply in the sudden peace, wiping his eyes and feeling as if he’d been
wrestling white bears underwater. Whatever dread fate his foresight had seen in
Hub . . . could it be any worse than the traffic?

A
groom was holding cheekstraps, Andor counting out gold, Gathmor yelling
instructions at the boys swarming over the baggage, and a quartet of trolls was
shambling forward.

Rap
jumped down and went to thank Smoky and Foggy. Normally he would have insisted
on rubbing them down himself, but a quick scan of the stables showed him they
would be well boarded-and Andor was sending him glances.

“We’ve
only a bowshot to go,” he was saying. “We don’t need porters, do we?” The
travelers had amassed an amazing amount of baggage, and that morning he had
insisted that it all be crammed into just two trunks.

So
Rap exchanged shrugs with Gathmor and said he thought they could manage. Then
he beat the sailor to the larger box and hoisted it onto his shoulder with no
help from the scowling trolls.

Wielding
the princess’s umbrella for her with his usual aplomb, Andor led the way out of
the yard, across the street, into a lane too narrow for a carriage, down a
short flight of stairs, turned left at an intersection, and into a shadowy
court.

Then
up some stairs. Across another courtyard ... The steady downpour was showing no
signs of waning, and a spiteful wind hustled it along these constricted
passageways. The trunk on Rap’s shoulder grew heavier by the minute. Water was
running into his sleeve and down his collar. Ankle-deep floods swirled garbage along
gutters and paving alike, and periodically managed to soak his feet.

The
next alley was a gap so narrow that pedestrians must walk in single file, and
the two human camels had to watch their elbows and knuckles. Nothing was
straight for more than a few paces, no angles were right; the buildings were a
labyrinth, their height squeezing the darkening sky to narrow slits. More steps
...

“Some
bowshot!” Gathmor grumbled, puffing. “Arrows fly straight.” Rap just wished
that the old lady would walk faster.

“Good
spot for an ambush.”

“Don’t
see anything lurking.” Rap had not been neglecting his farsight, but so far it
was confirming what his eyes said-that this was an area of blighted trades and
decaying residences, but relatively harmless. The buildings were obviously very
old, but that must be normal in Hub.

Gathmor
paused to shift his load to his other shoulder. “Easy for you!” he grumbled.

“Yep!”
Rap said. “Want me to take both?” But he was using honest muscle, not power,
and he was both surprised and pleased to have outlasted the sailor. He shifted
his load over, also, though, and they carried on-across a rubbly empty lot,
through the gloom of a covered wynd, stopping at last before an inconspicuous
door set almost flush with the wall. It was cobbled together from rough planks;
it had no distinguishing marks at all.

“And
here we are!” Andor said cheerfully. “Not exactly a fashionable address, but
certainly not a slum, either. Discreet-”

“Open
that door, or I drop this on your toes!” Gathmor snarled.

“Alit
Well, if you insist. Magic time!”

Andor
placed his lips close to a knothole in the door and whispered something to it.
Rap felt a shimmer as it swung open.

“Goodness!”
the princess said.

“Magic
door! You can buy anything in Hub if you have the money.”

That
was sorcery, not magic, but a large number of such occult gadgets in operation
would explain the steady vibration Rap sensed in the ambience. With sighs of
relief, he and Gathmor entered and thumped their loads to the floor in unison.
The dingy little room was bare except for a shabby rug and a row of pegs
holding a few assorted hats, cloaks, and a couple of lanterns. The only
lighting came from a small transom, grimy and barred, plus a few chinks in the
door; the staircase ahead was inky dark. Andor closed the door carefully, then
fumbled with flint and steel.

“This
is an odd place,” he said. “What my associates and I like most about it is that
it has entrances on three different streets. Thinal and I have been known to
come in a skylight, also.”

Rap’s
farsight was already exploring an astonishingly complex series of rooms and
hallways and staircases, a human-scale ants’ nest carved out of a dozen
adjoining homes by the simple process of stealing away a room here and a room
there. Only by tracing out the pathways through the maze could he determine
which chambers belonged to this residence and which did not. Even the neighbors
might not realize that this labyrinth existed in their midst.

He
easily detected the hand of Sagorn-room after room filled with books, rolled
charts, hermetic apparatus, and piles of bizarre paraphernalia-but he also
noted several walk-in closets completely stuffed with gentleman’s clothing, and
an attic workshop littered with artists’ equipment and parts of musical
instruments. Thinal seemed to be represented only by a small secret cupboard
under a stair tread, half full of gems and gold trinkets-nothing but the best,
of course. Of Darad there was no sign at all, but Darad would have no reason or
desire ever to come to Hub.

The
lantern flickered into life, casting a golden glow on weary faces.

“The
place needs a good cleaning,” Andor admitted. “We hire a servant every ten
years or so, for a few months. We’re overdue. It may not be the style to which
you are accustomed, ma’am, but it does provide a very suitable lair for a group
of men bearing an ancient curse.”

“You
did not design it yourselves?” Rap asked. Andor had turned toward the stair. He
turned back, as if reading something in Rap’s tone. “No. It’s very old. We were
lucky enough to hear of it when it came on the market, and Sagorn purchased the
freehold. Why?”