In the Palace of the Khans (33 page)

“That's ridiculous!”

“Of course it is. It is clearly a first shot in a campaign to break off negotiations with us over the Vamar dam so that the contract can be taken over by some probably criminal organisation which will have been behind the assassination of the President in the first place.”

“That's disgusting! Those men are dead, Dad, and all the bastards can think about …”

“I'm afraid the world's like that, Niggles. All we can do is try to see they don't get away with it. Anything you can tell me may be useful.”

“Oh … Well, we'd gone up on the hillside so we could use a special bit of kit—don't tell anyone this part—so that we could get a secure line. Then these helicopters showed up …”

He found it difficult to explain coherently. He was actually shuddering with a of sick, helpless fury that men had died horribly, here on the naked hillside, and someone sitting at a desk in Dara Dahn (or Moscow, or Naples, or whatever) had simply jumped at the chance of using those deaths to help them in a multi-million dollar scam.

“Well, that's a start,” said his father. “Any witnesses?”

“Oh, hundreds. They were watching from the walls … Hold it. I bet somebody videoed it. We could download that and e-mail it to you.”

“Now, that would be really useful. I await results eagerly. Meanwhile I'd better put what you've told me through to London. I won't say anything about what you were doing on the hill. If you come up with a video of the accident it shouldn't be necessary.

“Now, your call to your mother. I want it on the open line in order to reinforce the idea that you are in Kyrgyzstan. You escaped with the Khanazhana and friends of hers arranged for you to be sent on to Kyrgyzstan for your own safety. You saw the President assassinated in front of your eyes and your escape and journey north were also harrowing experiences …”

“He wasn't the only one.”

“Good god! You mean …? No, tell me later. The point is, Niggles, that you aren't in any state to talk to journalists or anyone else. Meanwhile wherever you are you're going to have to do your best not to be recognised … Niggles …?”

“Uh …”

There had been a moment, just that one instant when his father had seemed to understand … He pulled himself together.

“Sorry, Dad. It was something you said. It's all right. I've had my hair dyed, and I've got sunglasses and Dirzhani clothes to wear.”

“Good for you. Right, so you give me five minutes to explain to your mother what's up, and then you call her on the open line and tell you're in safe hands and fundamentally OK, only a bit shaken by everything you've been through, and no wonder, from what you tell me. You can ham it up a bit if you like, and I'll tell her that you seem to be in much better nick than you're going to make out for the benefit of listening ears. Think you can manage that, Niggles?”

“I suppose so. When can I talk to her for real? It's not like I can just pick up the phone, Dad. We've got to get all the kit together and come up here and set it up.”

“Not tonight, I'm afraid, Niggles. I need to keep this line open. Tomorrow, same time?”

“Thanks, Dad. See you.”

“Good luck, Niggles. You're being remarkably useful. Doesn't sound as there's much point telling you to keep out of trouble.”

“Doing my best, honestly. See you, Dad.”

“Think I got most of that,” said Mizhael as soon as he'd signed off. “Should be able to find a video of the crash—see about it soon as we're back. Gather you've got a call to make on an open line.”

“Dad wants me to try and make it look as if I'm in Kyrgyzstan.”

“Sound notion. See if you can hint so's the Khanazhana—just enough to keep 'em guessing. What was that your dad told you right at the start? Ridiculous, you called it. Then disgusting.”

Nigel explained, and he laughed.

“Not much you can't do with a fancy mobile these days,” he said. “But bringing down helicopters … Pentagon's probably working on it. Right. Make your call and we'll get out of here.”

Nigel's mother answered at the first ring.

“Nigel?”

There was a faint echo on the sound of her voice.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Oh, darling! You know you're all over the papers back home. They keep calling up asking me for photos. Helen says you're on TV too.”

“That's crazy!”

“Of course it is, but you know what they're like. There's probably not much else happening this time of year. What I want to know is are you all right?”

“I'm OK.… I suppose. I mean people are looking after me, only they don't want me to say where I am. I'm not sick or anything, except I got a bash on my shoulder, but it's stopped hurting, almost. But I've had the hell of a time, Mum. I don't want to talk about it. I don't like being scared, running and hiding, seeing people getting beaten up, killed …”

There wasn't any need to fake it. His voice started to shake. It was difficult to stay in control, to remember the listening ears …

He shook himself and gathered his wits.

“I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't mean to …”

“No, darling. I'm glad you told me. It's important not to bottle that sort of thing up. You've had a hideous time. Let's hope it's over. You really think you're safe where you are now?”

“Safe as can be. They're good guys. One of them was at Balliol.”

(Hell! He shouldn't have said that. Listening-ears might be able to work it out.)

“Good lord! Have you told your father?”

“Not yet. Have you been to Sodalka, Mum?”

“I was saving it up to go with you. I'd love to see it.”

“I thought it was really cool. Like Dahn must've been when it was just the old city—like a dragon was going to show up any minute. You've got to get Dad to take you there.”

Apart from that first outburst it all sounded fake to Nigel's ears, as if they were rehearsing for a play when they'd only just learnt their lines. They managed to chat for a bit about the birds at Forghal, but it was a relief to finish.

At breakfast Mizhael said, “Afraid I'll be tied up mostly today. People to talk to. In Dirzhani mostly. Khanazhana the same. No point your tagging along. Best thing you can do is get on with the map of the palace. Lily-Jo's made you some large-scale outlines of the palace to work on. She's raring to go. Anything you want from Dr. G.?”

“Could you ask him for a list of Old Script numbers?”

“There should be a book in library. I'll come and see what I can find.”

Drearily he settled to work. His heart wasn't in it, but at least it was something to stop him thinking about the dead men on the hillside, and how many more dead people there were going to be before this stupid adventure was over, with men like Adzhar Taerzha and Colonel Sesslizh running Dirzhan, and the domes of Sodalka shattered and smoke drifting up from the ruins.

And Taeela made to marry some bastard who was calling himself Khan.

He transferred what he'd worked out yesterday onto one of Lily-Jo's enlarged outlines and pencilled in the stone-counts in Arabic numbers. It was slow work. That done, he guessed how many stones it would take to cross the Hare Room and the passage beyond, doubled it for the opposite wing and added that to the number of stones in the long passage. That gave him the full width of the palace, measured in stones. They were about fifty centimetres wide, but there was no point in converting them. Stones would be fine as a basic measure.

His imagination started to reconstruct the passages as he worked, breathing the chill, unused air with its faint odour of old stonework, seeing Taeela and Fohdrahko moving silently away through the darkness silhouetted against the glow of their torch, with the eerie shadows of long-dead eunuchs watching them pass. Soon he was absorbed by the task for its own sake. The table was in shadow again when Mizhael came to collect him for lunch.

“Yes,” said Lily-Jo. “It's got to be a lot simpler than it looked. Secret passages are like that. If they wandered all over the place the people using the rooms and corridors wouldn't be able to move about, because there'd always be a secret passage in the way. What is this?”

“That's one of the symbols I haven't worked out. I think those lines might be rungs.”

“Yes, with a crawl-space between them, to get over a corridor or something. And look. This bit here.”

She traced a line along with the tip of her knife.

“When we've straightened it out and opened it up it'll be just one long passage with a few short branches that don't go anywhere. And they're all on one side. These are spy-holes, you say? They're all on that side too. And here's a crawl-space, but no rungs. That will be to get under a window on the other side. You can do that because outside walls are thicker in a building like the palace. And another. And … Look. All the way along. And no corners. So what you've got here is a passage running all along one side of a building. Windows on your left and rooms on your right. A narrow building, or the side-branches would be longer … How many entrances? One, two, three, four, five. Three entrances close together this end, and one in the middle and one at the end. But—how many?—nine spy-holes. So three small rooms and two long ones. Where can we fit that in …?”

“Along the side of the courtyard?” said Nigel. “Look, here. It would have to be this side if that's an outside wall. There's a sort of balcony running the whole way round on the inside.”

“You've seen it,” said Lily-Jo. “Did you see any doors?”

“Yes, I think so. And windows. All the way along.”

“Barracks?” said Mizhael. “Guards got to sleep somewhere. Two rooms for the men and three for the officers. That's the sort of thing we're looking for. Nigel's made a great start, but it's only a start. Not much use our attack party knowing their way round the passages if they're lost soon as they're out of them. So first you get them drawn in as a skeleton, and then you work out how the rooms fit in round them. Right up your street, darling.”

“Rahdan'll know about the barracks and stuff,” said Nigel. “And Taeela will know how a lot of the other rooms go.”

“Right. I'll try and lay that on for tomorrow morning. Thing is, it's becoming a bit urgent. That mutiny at Dorvadu your dad told you about, that wasn't the only one. Some of the Varaki units are beginning to show up back home, fodder for the hot-heads. It'll only take a skirmish or two for the Colonels to send the bombers up. We can't afford to hang about, and none of the guys I want to recruit is going to commit himself without a working plan of the palace.

“Other thing is, we've got to have a target date, Nick. A day we know if the bastards are going to be there, in the palace. They've told us they're keeping Urvdahn Idzhak and the rest of our people in Dara Dahn to sign their draft constitution soon as it's ready. They'll want to make a big show of it, in the Great Hall, in front of the cameras, show the world what good boys they're being. That's our best chance. They'll ask your dad to come along?”

“I expect so.”

“OK. I've got hold of two videos of the crash for him. We can e-mail the files off from the ridge tonight, and you can tell him they're on the way, and while you're at it you can see if he knows anything about the date.”

“I suppose so.”

“You don't like it?”

“If there's going to be fighting … Mum and Dad will be there …”

“Last-minute diplomatic illness, maybe?”

“It'll look as if he knew.”

“See what you mean. Tricky. Have to think about it.”

“I'd like to call them anyway.”

“What would you like to do this afternoon?” said Lily-Jo.

“Go back to the library, I suppose.”

“You can't do that all day. You'll go mad. I've got to look for a birthday present for Mike to give one of his sisters. Why don't you come with me? Doglu loves shopping. There might be something you'd like to buy. Ear-rings for your mother? There's several stalls with fun stuff.”

“Oh, OK. You'll have to help me choose.”

Nigel was reaching for a small amber brooch when someone standing beside him reached out towards the same tray, but instead of picking anything up touched him firmly on the wrist with three fingers and withdrew. He snatched his hand back, thinking he must have done something wrong, but the man had already turned away.

A few minutes later it happened again, this time a brief firm touch on the side of his neck, just behind the ear. He spun round. It was a woman, but again he wasn't quick enough to see her face. Three or four other people were standing there watching him. He smiled and held out his arm.

“Anyone else want a go?” he said.

They stared at him blankly and looked away.

“What on earth was that about?” he said.

“No idea,” said Lily-Jo. “I'll ask Darzha.”

She'd hardly got three words out when Darzha cut her short with a warning frown and a shake of the head.

“Some sort of superstition, I guess,” said Lily-Jo. “Better pretend not to notice if it happens again.”

It did, three times. Lily-Jo was on the look-out now.

“They don't mind me watching,” she said. “It's you who mustn't see who they are. They pick their moment, and turn away as soon as they've touched you. It's always three fingers laid together like this. One girl had a couple of friends watching. It was like it was a bit of a joke, only it mattered.”

In the end Nigel chose a matching brooch and ear-rings, dark brown stones with glints of red deep inside them, like embers. The stall-holder was all smiles, but refused to let him pay for them, and when Nigel tried to insist Darzha dragged him away.

Mizhael laughed when they asked him about it.

“Seems they've decided you're the Khanazhana's baizhan,” he said.