Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution (2 page)

"You're a fine one to talk, Setne! You came running here at the first hint of something you hope will be demanding of your talents."

"There is a grand convocation of kheri-hebu which brought me here," Inhetep responded, lowering his eyes slightly so that Harphosh couldn't read them.

The prince-hatia was not so easily thrown off track. "Weeks from now! You could have stayed in your retreat and 'enjoyed' idleness, but instead you came to Innu as quickly as you could. That tells me a lot of how
you
regard retirement, Magister."

"So I am called to assist you in your bid to remain as governor of this district?" Inhetep jibed, for he was determined not to allow Harphosh to discover the real reason he had come to the city. Rachelle's absence made staying in the villa unpalatable. His growing reliance on her was a weakness not to be discovered, let alone discussed.

"Nonsense. All of that was merely small talk, Inhetep. There is a bearing on the matter, though, in what we've just talked about."

"And what might that be, Harphosh?"

"What do you know about the kingdom of Khaziria?"

"Kaganate." Inhetep murmured the correction without realizing it, as he rapidly searched his mental files on the subject of Khazars and Khaziria. "Hmm ... A wild horde of Turic nomads who tried to push westwards, were eventually beaten back, and then formed a minor empire some nine centuries ago, perhaps? Their petty commercialism actually saved them, because they were valuable to certain interests of one or another factions of the Pangrecian Concantonation as well as the Imperial Russ."

"And now?"

Inhetep was puzzled. "A backwater marking the boundary between /Eropa and Azir on the northern shore of the Mare Ostrum, even though the kagan still manages some trade and tariff—"

"Politically, Setne!" the prince admonished.

"Aligned, but not too closely, with the West, what else? Trading pacts with Russ, Sinope, and Slovia—Hyrkania, too, to the east. I said not too closely tied to ^Eropan states because the kagan fears that his lands will be made into the battleground. There is no close ally. The kagan supports Hyrkania as a lever against Turkistan— having an ongoing quasi-war with that state, naturally."

There was a nod from Harphosh. He seemed satisfied. "Have you heard anything about them recently? Are their shamans doing something which is detectable?"

"Khaziria? With Olmar as kagan? Nobody goes there that isn't a grubbing merchant or trader, and their clerics are renowned for nothing save their ineptitude."

"I have come across something which might interest you, Magister," the prince said slowly. "By chance, I happened to come across a registry of foreign students enrolled in universities here in my nome—then I decided to check all records for the whole of /Egypt. Do you know what I discovered?"

"Not unless you allow me to read your mind."

"There are thirty-six Khazars attending our schools. All are studying some form of heka practice, mostly dweomercraeft and priestcraeft. Five attend colleges here in Innu and On."

Inhetep sat up. "Odd! Who would have supposed that those barbarians would have such a penchant for magicks' finer arts?"

"Evidently, Olmar has long-ranging ambitions, but I wouldn't be overly concerned, old fellow. Twelve years of study, then another eight or so years of practical application and personal research before one of them might prove a factor in concerns of magick—statecraft, diplomacy, or warfare too, for that matter." The governor seemed unconcerned. "There is at this moment one of these very men about to move from study to a more advanced stage, Magister."

"Really! How so?"

Prince Harphosh nodded vigorously. "At your grand convocation, Setne. There is a Khazar who has completed the courses required in your school, the University of Innu. You will be voting as to his becoming a kheri-heb."

The priest-wizard did not bother to tell Harphosh that the tests made the vote mere acknowledgement of an already proven status. "That bears some looking into, Governor. Still, I don't think I'll uncover anything beyond the obvious. Kagan Olmar has quietly managed to institute a plan to reinforce the power of his state. That it has only come to our attention now is indicative of a heretofore unrecognized ability in the sovereign ruler of Khaziria. You must report this to the Utchatu. Intelligence will have to keep a closer watch on Olmar henceforth, but that should please them."

"How so?"

"What better excuse for
a
bigger budget, more operatives?"

Both men chuckled then. "Do see what you can learn, Setne. Better to pass it through me, though, unless you want to rejoin the Merit-f. . . ."

"Not on your life, Harphosh! Believe it or not, I am enjoying my freedom and leisure."

"That's why you're roaming all over /Erth as an independent consultant, I suppose."

"Merely a sideline to travel and study the foreign lands and people, my dear Governor. Besides, someone has to keep the truly sinister elements of our world in check."

That concluded the meeting, and Inhetep wound up sitting at a sidewalk table at Ra's Chariot, merely passing time. Three weeks! Why had he taken lodging in the Fashionable district near to the governor's palace? Because of the erroneous assumption about what Harphosh would need of him. Khazar students, indeed! The prince was growing far too suspicious in his declining years. Although the matter was noteworthy as a measure of Kagan Olmar's ambition, it was clearly no complex plot. The students were not smuggled in on false papers. No, they were openly in /Egypt, and the fact that there were lower-class members of the group simply showed that the state was sponsoring the effort. These were undoubtedly the cadre with which the ruler of the Eastern kingdom hoped to train a whole corps of able full practitioners of both priestly and magicka. In his position, Inhetep thought he would have done that long ago. I'll make a point of talking with the would-be kheri-heb, however, the tall man noted mentally. I'm not quite ready to train outsiders in our most arcane and potent arts. Damned liberals will push for it, and
that's
why I wasn't informed of this whole business sooner! They meant to have a foreigner admitted to show that /Egypt, Innu University, and the kheri-hebu were modern and progressive. "We'll see about that!" the magister murmured aloud as he began to walk more swiftly despite the still oppressive heat.

He had taken a suite of rooms at the Golden Nylle. As its name suggested, the inn was on the bank of the river. It was very posh and attracted the trade of those on business with the government of the sepat, for it was only a long block from the offices of the district's government and the palace of Governor Prince Harphosh. Golden was appropriate too, in that the inn charged more for a night's stay than many men earned in a month. The magister didn't mind that so much as its location. He wanted now to be near the university district, the main avenues of Innu's activity. The Golden Nylle was as far from that as any place he might have found in the city, and now he had a long walk ahead of him. Perhaps he might have hired a sedan chair or even a chariolet, but such a conveyance seemed distasteful to him unless time demanded speedy travel. Instead, Inhetep went west and angled south. There were shortcuts he knew, and by taking the narrow, winding and angling streets and alleys of the old section of Innu, and passing through the dilapidated waterfront of the commercial quarter, he knew he could shorten his walk by a mile.

It was blazingly hot as Inhetep neared the river, and as he decided to move to a more centrally located hostel next morning, the tall wizard-priest ducked his head and entered a dirty but cool tavern. A mug of small beer was better than nothing, and his throat was parched again, despite having quaffed tea but a half hour previously. He ordered a drink, and was about to toss it down and leave as quickly as he entered, when he spotted a man across the room. Inhetep slouched nervously so as to conceal his presence in the saloon.

AN ASSASSIN'S TRAIL

The docks of Innu were home to many sorts of men. Egyptians of rough sort prevailed, but shoulder to shoulder with them could be found pale Libbosians, swarthy Nubians, lank Keshites, wild-haired /Etheopeans, taciturn desert warriors of Meroe, and all manner of other races. Some were bargemen and river sailors, other laborers and dock hands, while the remainder were escorts and guards. Most were dishonest. Many were thieves, bandits, and worse. The magister's size and piercing glance were usually sufficient to enable him to go anywhere without fear. On those few occasions where appearance alone hadn't sufficed, AErth had become a ruffian or two shorter, whether due to weapon or word of power. This was an altogether different matter, for Inhetep's gaze had discovered someone far more dangerous than a lurking mugger or street tough.

There was a door at the back of the long bar room, and from it came a negro whose stature and fine features proclaimed him as a Dahlikil tribesman. Such warriors as he were the chief reason that the kingdom of Axxum remained independent from /Etheope, /Egypt, and Adal. Axxum was an adherent to the Babylonian gods in a sea of those recognizing the deities of ./Egypt. The land was also a haven for brutal tribesmen whose status was reckoned by the number of men they had slain. Inhetep recognized this individual as more than simply one of the savage warriors of that distant land, however. This particular Dahlikil was named Ya-keem. He was the most deadly assassin the wizard-priest had ever known. He and Inhetep had met twice, and in one of those confrontations the magister had barely escaped with his life. Inhetep was sitting near the wall in the front comer of the dive, and as soon as he spotted Yakeem he moved so as to seem smaller, shorter, and concealed himself in the dimness there. Now, what would bring so high-paid and elite a professional murderer to this seamy little tavern? Inhetep wondered as he watched the tall assassin.

He did not stare directly, of course, for true killers of this sort had both magickal devices and a sixth sense to give warning of such observation, something akin to Setae's own ability. Inhetep had looked away immediately upon recognizing Yakeem, blanked his upper mind, and only watched the sharp-featured Dahlikil from the corner of his eye. It was a trick of detecting motion and position. By watching only the feet, it was possible not to alert a professional such as the ebon-skinned killer. Inhetep attuned his ears to the sound of Yakeem's footfalls and listened for Ms voice. The words weren't distinct, but the man said something brief to a broad-shouldered fellow, then moved down the bar and left. As soon as the assassin had gone, Inhetep placed a pair of bronze dinars on the stained wood of his table, examining the man to whom he was sure Yakeem had spoken in passing. He was a Scythian or Median; the magister couldn't tell which at that distance. There was no time to move nearer and listen to hear his speech, either. As the priest-wizard arose from his chair, he staggered a little, made a show of draining the last dregs from his clay pot, and then lurched out. The broad-shouldered confederate of Yakeem hardly glanced at Inhetep as he left, thinking Mm merely a tipsy clerk or merchant from one of the nearby factories or warehouses.

It was twilight, and there was near gloom in the narrow streets, bet Inhetep didn't need mag-ick to locate the direction Yakeem had taken. Towards the east, the way was fairly straight, and in the time between the lanky assassin's departure from the tavern and Ms own, the priest-wizard knew that Yakeem could not have traversed the length of it. Unless the Dahlikil had entered another of the shabby buildings around the place, Inhetep reasoned, the man was headed west, following the corkscrew street towards the commercial docks. Without seeming to hurry, Inhetep moved with long strides in the direction of the river. Once out of sight of the tavern's entrance, he broke into a rapid lope. After about half a minute, Inhetep then stopped still and listened.

No sound came from behind, but ahead he heard a confusion of noise. There was some busy street ahead, perhaps a little market as well. He would have to risk being seen, or else the assassin might lose himself in the crowd. Walking again with long strides, Inhetep rounded a nearby dogleg and found himself in a broader way with a scattering of little stalls and carts lining its walls. Torches were being lit here and there against the gathering darkness. Witchlight globes and other magickal illumination devices glowed more brightly as night descended. The ruddy flare of the brands and pale washes of greenish or violet-hued foxfires enspelled by amateur local practitioners gave the scene an air between that of a gaily colored festival and some nightmare glimpse of hell.

"Poppy wine, Aisthentes?" quarried a Levantine from his doorway.

"Come here to Amrahet's stall! Every amulet and talisman I have is guaranteed potent. No need to fear the sting of scorpions, the pox! Am-rahet has charms against all ills!" sang a vendor as the tall wizard-priest moved rapidly past the man.

To the left, Inhetep saw booths selling food. Skewers of meat and vegetables toasted over lit-tie charcoal braziers, pots of soup and stew simmered, and whole fowls roasted on spits. The odor was actually enticing, each aroma combining somehow to make the mouth water, and a dozen voices cajoled passersby to eat. Yakeem wasn't to be seen there, so the magister scanned the street to the left: more peddlars, shops, and a gathering of folk emerging into the cooler evening after being inside during the hot afternoon, but the Dahlikil wasn't there either. Directly ahead was a narrow lane, a street of joy, as was evident from the wall glyphs and signs clearly visible in the light of fiery cresset or multi-hued witchlight. More money was spent here; the magicka! illuminations were skillfully cast so that sultry purples, hot reds, lilacs, pinks, and oranges lured the sensual into the erotic byway.