Emperor and Clown (5 page)

Cursing
fluently, Gathmor dropped the lantern, swung his pack down to the ground, and
began fumbling with the ties-there was a sword inside. But he knew he’d been
seen, and one man couldn’t hold off an army. He was a fist-and-boots man,
anyhow-he’d never used a sword in his life. He stopped, gasping for breath,
knowing it was useless. A prowler near the palace at this time of the morning,
running away ... he was a dead man! Sweat trickled icily down his ribs.

The
horses never broke stride. A dozen cantered by his patch of darkness, then a
coach, rumbling and bouncing, and a solitary giant of a man on a black stallion,
and finally another twenty or so horsemen, riding on inky shadows in the
moonlight.

And
they were gone. Their clamor died away down the hill, and the silence. of the
night returned, broken only by his own hard breathing.

Gathmor
jumped as another man dropped nimbly at his side, Thinal coming down from
above, having scaled a sheer wall in his inimitable style.

“Funny
time of day to be going for an outing,” the thief remarked in a puzzled tone.

Jalon
scowled at him. Of all the five he knew Thinal least. The kid’d been busy,
these last two days, but he did his work alone. Gathmor had caught glimpses of
him, but they’d exchanged few words. Slight and foxy, the young imp was also
nondescript and unmemorable.

“Come
on, then,” he snapped. “I need my stuff.” Common porter! Snarling, Gathmor set
to work on the pack. Then he paused. “What’s the old man’s plan, exactly?”

“Kadolan,”
Thinal said, stripping o$ Andor’s fancy robes. “Darad saw her on a balcony. He
doesn’t think, of course.”

“So
I gathered. Why her?”

“Hurry!
Because no one can possibly get close enough to Inos to have a private chat,
right? No man, anyway. You know how djinns guard their women.” Stripped bare
now, he pushed Gathmor’s hands away and the bundle yielded swiftly to his
thieving fingers. “But I may be able to get to her aunt-she won’t be so well
guarded.”

“And
then what?”

Thinal
began emptying the pack, tipping out all the miscellaneous garments and
equipment the team had collected for their nefarious exploits. He found the
shorts he wanted and pulled them on, dancing round on one foot at a time, then
he went hunting for his shoes. Burglars disliked floppy robes.

“Then
Jalon.”

“Jalon?”
Gathmor didn’t think he was usually so stupid. The occult gang was deliberately
trying to confuse him. Sagorn was a schemer and Thinal a sharpie. He was only
an honest sailor.

Thinal
pulled the sword from the pack and hung it on his back. It was a fine dwarvish
blade, but the hilt was so distinctive that it might as well have had Stolen
from the Palace of Arakkaran written all over it. Once inside the grounds, he
could call Darad to use it anytime there was need of violence. He peered up at
Gathmor. “Then ... then we’ll improvise. Got a better plan?”

“No,”
the sailor admitted angrily. “But you have. Out with it!”

“Inos
tells Jalon her word. As adepts, we rescue Rap ... Don’t wait around. This may
take all day, or even longer. Look for us. . .” He paused, thinking. “The North
Star Saloon, dawn and dusk and noon? If none of us shows in two days we’re
dead. All right?”

“Why
Jalon? And shouldn’t you find a shadier stretch of wall to climb?”

“Not
at this time of night. No one around.” Gathmor opened his mouth to argue, but
it was too late. Leaving the sailor standing in the scattered mess of clothing,
the kid sprinted across the empty street and seemed to flow straight up the
wall on the far side. In moments he had vanished over the top.

Gathmor
waited for sounds of discovery, and there were none.

He
sighed and bent to stuff all the clothes back in the sack.

Then
he straightened. Wait a minute!

Rap
was dying-chained to the floor, all his bones broken, his tongue burned out,
gangrene . . . Even if Darad or Thinal had become adepts, they wouldn’t be
sorcerers. They might rescue Rap, but they couldn’t cure those awful injuries!

But
did Inosolan know that Rap had been broken like that? If she thought he was
just locked up in a cell, then she might very well believe the gang’s story and
hand over her word of power-and it wouldn’t do Rap a damned bit of good!

The
stillness of the night was shattered by an explosion of jotunn curses.

Of
course they’d duped him! They would dupe the girl! And Rap would still die.

“Shandie!
Shandie! Oh, my poor baby! Shandie!” The voice came from a long way away, a
very long way. It sounded much louder than it could possibly be, because that
was Aunt Oro’s voice, and she had a very soft voice, always, and she never
shouted.

He
was lying facedown. Because.

He
was asleep, really. The room was dark, the bed soft. Sleep.

“Shandie!”

He
smiled. He was glad she had come, and hoped she would see his smile in the dark
and know he was glad, but he was much too much asleep to say anything. The
world was all very woozy, and if he tried to wake up then he would feel his
sore butt, and he didn’t want that.

“Shandie!
Speak to me!”

He
mumbled, tried to say he would see her tomorrow. Didn’t think it came out
right, because his mouth was all woozy, too. Moms had given him the medicine.
To take the pain away.

More
than usual medicine, ‘cos it had been a very big beating. He’d been a very bad
boy. He couldn’t remember just how, but he had. Ythbane had been very, very
disappointed in him.

Sleep
. . .

“And
what are you doing in my bedroom?”

That
was Moms this time. She was shouting. Oh, dear, Moms was angry.

“I’m
visiting my nephew! And what is a nine-yearold doing still sleeping in his
mother’s bedroom, may I ask?”

That
was Aunt Oro again, but it didn’t sound like Aunt Oro, who was sweet and cuddly
and never, never shouted. ‘Cept she was shouting now.

So
was Moms. “He’s my son and I’ll decide where he sleeps. And I’ll thank you-”

“What’s
the matter with him? What have you doped him with?” - “Just a mild sedat-”

“Mild?
He’s dead to the world! Laudanum? It must be laudanum! You give your own son
laudanum?”

“Mind
your own business!”

“This
is my business!”

He
was starting to cry. He could feel tears. He didn’t like all this shouting, and
he wanted to sit up and tell them to stop shouting over him, but he couldn’t
even lift his head, ‘cause it weighed ever so much and was so woozy. Dark.
Woozy. Sleepy.

“It
is not your business!”

“Yes
it is! He’s my nephew, and heir to the throne. And who did this?”

Ouch!

“See?”
Aunt Oro, shouting louder. “This sheet is stuck to him. Caked blood! No
bandages, even?”

“Too
swollen. Just compresses.”

“Who
did it?”

“He
was disciplined.”

“Disciplined?
You call this discipline? I call it flogging.”

“He
disgraced himself today.”

Yes.
Now Shandie remembered. He hadn’t just fidgeted. He’d fallen down and
interrupted the ceremony and shamed himself before the full court. Of course he’d
had to be beaten for that.

“He
fainted! I saw. Grown men faint when they have to stand too long. Shut up and
listen to me, Uomaya! Hear me out. I saw. He fainted like a soldier on parade.”

“They
get punished-”

“He’s
only a child! He shouldn’t even have been there. Certainly not made to stand
all that time! Of course he fainted!”

“And
I will see my child reared as I choose. I repeat, it is none of your business .
. .”

“And
I say it is . . .”

The
voices came and went; louder, softer. Like waves on Cenmere. Rock me to sleep
...

“This
book? What sort of book is this for a boy of his age? Encyclopedia Hubbana? Is
that all he gets to read?”

He
did love Aunt Oro, but did wish she would go away now, stop shouting, let him’n’Moms
go to sleep. The voices faded ... then came back loud again.

“There’ll
have to be a regency declared, won’t-”

“Oh,
so that’s what brings you back to Hub? Think that you can get yourself made
regent, do you-”

“Who
else? You, I suppose? Daughter of a common soldier? Gods! Who else? Not that
slug Ythbane? Eeech! The rumors are he dyes his hair. Does he?”

“How
the Evil should I know?”

“How
indeed?”

Moms
screamed then, so loud that Shandie almost wakened. The fires of Ythbane’s
switch burned hot again; he heard himself groan.

“Quiet!”
Aunt Oro said. “You’ll waken the boy. Now listen to me, Uomaya! I don’t care
who shares that fine bed of yours. I don’t care if he does have a blue tint to
him. But I won’t let either one of you be regent, nor both together. Shandie’s
a minor; I’m next in line. You’ve been trying to cut me out. Gods know I don’t
want the job, but I’ve got a duty. What’s wrong with Father, anyway? Is that
your doing, too? What are you doping him with?”

“Don’t
be ridiculous! He’s old--”

“He
wasn’t old a few months ago! Not like that. I heard the rumors, so I came back
and--”

“Well,
it’s none of my doing. And it isn’t poison, because we’ve changed his
attendants several times, so it’s just some sort of old-age sickness. And it
can’t be sorcery, not on him.”

“What
do the wardens say?”

Please!
Shandie thought. Oh, please go away and let me sleep, please. When you wake me,
then it hurts. “Wardens?” Moms laughed. “You think I talk to witches and
warlocks? They must know, but they haven’t spoken.”

Aunt
Oro groaned. “And of course they won’t do anything.”

“They
can’t do anything. That’s the Protocol, dearie. Family’s exempt. No magic cures
for us.” The voices sank lower. Shandie sank away into dark wooziness again . .
. and was roused by another voice. “Your Imperial Highness! An unexpected
honor!” The consul! . Angry. Oh, dear.

Shandie
discovered he was weeping again, into the sheet. He hadn’t been bad again, had
he? No more, please, no more!

“Consul
Ythbane! Are you responsible for this torture?”

“That
is not your affair, Highness.”

“Yes
it is! Why wasn’t I informed of my father’s illness?”

“We
didn’t think you’d be interested. You bury yoursdlf out in the country all the
time, breeding horses. The council saw no point in worrying you.”

“And
you’re trying to ram through a regency for yourself, aren’t you? You and
Uomaya? Don’t think I haven’t heard.”

Shandie
had never heard Aunt Oro be angry like this before. .

“Heard
what?”

“That
you’re lovers.”

“Watch
your tongue, woman!”

Aunt
Oro gasped. “You dare threaten me? It is you who must beware. Why else would
you be in the princess’s quarters in the middle of the night? You’ve been
waiting until the old man’s completely incapable, and then you’re planning to
marry her and-”

“And
the opposition has summoned you. I expected this, of course.” Ythbane’s voice
was getting deeper, which was a bad sign, but quieter, which was nicer. “Well,
let me give you a warning, Princess Orosea. Your dear husband-how is his clock
collection?”

“Fine
... I mean, what on earth has Lee’s clock collection got to do with anythin ?”

“They’re
dwarvish, aren’t they Most of them? He trades with dwarves. Dwarves make the
best clocks.”

“So?”

Aunt
Oro had stopped shouting. Nicer.

“The
Dark River border is alight again. Open war may have begun already. Trading
with Dwanishian agents will be taken as evidence of treason.” Mumble.

“But
I do! Lots of witnesses. Documents. So here are my terms, Highness! You leave
Hub by morning, or a Bill of Attainder will be laid before the Assembly at
noon.” Mumble. Weeping? Who was weeping? Moms laughing. Good.

“I
shall also have some documents for you to sign before you depart. Within the
hour.”

Mumbles.
Soft mumbles. Whispers. Quiet. Dark. Sleep ...

Naught
availeth:

Say
not the struggle naught availeth,

The
labour and the wounds are vain,

The
enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And
as things have been, things remain.

Clough,
Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth

Darkling Way

“Who’s
there?”

Kadolan
twisted her head as far round as she could-which wasn’t very far these days.
She overbalanced and grabbed at the bed for support. She had been praying.

Again
a faint sound on the balcony, a flicker of movement in the moonlight . . . A
burglar? In the palace of Arakkaran, with its innumerable guards? Inos had mentioned
intruders--

“Princess?
Highness? My pardon if I frightened you.”

Her
leaping heart took wing altogether, and she gasped with the pain of it.

“Doctor
Sagorn?”

“It
is I,” said the soft, dry voice. “I fear my entry was unorthodox.”

Kadolan
thought of how high that balcony was, and remembered a ruby brooch, and
understood. The thief ... whatever his name was ... Sagorn gave her no time to
catch her breath.

“My
garb is not very seemly, ma’am,” he said. “Perhaps I may scout for a robe of
some sort? I apologize for waking you so suddenly.”

She
did not sleep on the floor, but in an embarrassing situation like this, a true
gentleman would always imply he had seen much less than he had. “How extremely
kind of you to come, Doctor. Please do go into that room there, and I shall be
with you in a moment.”

He
murmured, and she heard a shuffling, cautious tread. Then she levered herself
up from her knees and fumbled to find her housecoat. She allowed a few moments
for her unconventional visitor to make himself decent, and for her heart to
finish its slow descent from the heights, and for a quick adjustment of her
nightcap over her curlers.