Almorante regarded her with a flat serpent gaze. ‘You do not deceive me, my lady. For some reason, you want the Crown for yourself.’ He glanced at Maycarpe. ‘Darris, if you are involved in this, I strongly recommend you re-examine your position. Whoever conceals the Crown from me commits treason and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the penalty for that.’
‘Do you want this crown for Gastern?’ Maycarpe asked. ‘Is that why you’re here? Or do you come as your mother’s creature?’
‘Silence. Treason is treason. That’s all you need to know.’ Almorante turned and grabbed hold of Sinaclara’s arm, twisting it severely. She winced and cried out. ‘Lady, tell me where the artefact is. Now. I assure you that obstinacy will not reward you. Eventually, you will break. Why not save yourself the torture?’
‘Dragons take you!’ Sinaclara cried. ‘I do not have the crown. I cannot give it to you.’
Almorante twisted her arm a little more. Sinaclara released a sobbing moan. ‘You know where it is. Tell me its location.’
‘I don’t know. That is the truth.’
Almorante flung Sinaclara away from him. She crashed into a tall dresser and then slid to the floor. The prince glared at Maycarpe for a moment, during which time the governor’s heart nearly ceased beating. Then Almorante clearly came to a decision. He gestured to one of his men and then to Nana, who had run to administer to Sinaclara. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded as the man tore the Jessapurian away from Sinaclara’s arms.
‘I am an employee of the Lady of Bree,’ Nana said.
Almorante glanced down at Sinaclara. Blood ran down her face, where she’d hit her forehead on the dresser. He looked back to Nana. ‘Kill her,’ he said.
Sinaclara screamed, ‘No!’ and leapt wildly to her feet. Soldiers’ hands reached to restrain her. Maycarpe could only look in horrified disbelief as two Magravandians took hold of Nana. They forced back her head, while one of their comrades, with chilling, wordless precision, drew a blade across the woman’s throat. It happened so quickly. There was not a spray of blood, but a gush of it, like a waterfall or a flash flood. The soldiers released her. Uttering a hideous gurgling sound, and desperately trying to hold her opened flesh together with blood slick hands, Nana staggered off furniture and then sank to the floor. She lay on the carpet, moving feebly, in a widening pool of gore.
The sound of Sinaclara’s stricken weeping seemed to come from very far away. Maycarpe had seen – and done – terrible things in his time, but he could barely believe what had happened. Only minutes before, he had been dining with this woman, delighting in her vibrant beauty and wondering whether, at some point during the ladies’ visit, he might seduce her. Now, all that had been Nana, her hopes, her thoughts, her feelings, had vanished. She was a lifeless corpse, empty meat. It was inconceivable.
Almorante stepped up to Maycarpe and looked directly into his eyes. ‘If you think anything of the sorceress of Bree,’ he said, ‘you will reveal what you know to me. I am quite prepared to kill her. You too, if necessary. I know you value your own life, Darris. You are a survivor. What is this Crown to you? Is it worth lives, especially your own?’
Maycarpe swallowed painfully, tasted bile. ‘Strangely enough, it is,’ he said. ‘Do your worst, your highness. Kill me. The knowledge of the Crown’s whereabouts will go with me to my grave. Sinaclara knows nothing. I deliberately hid it without telling her where it lies. What she does not know cannot harm her.’
‘But her pain, perhaps, can harm you.’
Maycarpe shook his head. ‘She, like me, is willing to die to protect the Crown. You can torture her to death before my eyes. I will not speak. We are both disciplined adepts of the inner arts. Should we wish to, we can vacate our bodies at will. You cannot threaten us with torture, nor death, for we know that life is an illusion, and that we would go on to greater things.’
‘As you will,’ said Almorante. ‘It is a great shame, because I admire you greatly, Darris. The world will be impoverished by your loss.’ He gestured to one of his men who took a step towards Maycarpe, unsheathing his dagger.
‘No!’ Sinaclara cried. ‘No more killing. The Crown lies in the safe in Lord Maycarpe’s dressing room.’
There was a brief silence. Maycarpe was astounded by Sinaclara’s outburst, mainly because he had not told her where he’d hidden the Crown. He stared at Almorante, and could almost see the workings of the prince’s mind. He watched him toy with the decision to kill the governor anyway. He could see, as if those thoughts were his own, how Almorante remembered the past, all the memorable evenings he’d spent in Maycarpe’s company. They had acted as if they were great friends. Almorante had not lied when he’d said he admired the governor. Maycarpe knew this fact saved his life.
Eventually, Almorante said. ‘The woman has sense. You should value it. Take us to the crown, Darris. Let us end this unpleasantness.’
Almorante took only two of his men with him as they escorted Lord Maycarpe up to his dressing-room. Out in the hallway, there was a reek of blood. Maycarpe glanced up the corridor and saw huddled shapes on the floor. He paused. ‘What have you done?’ His voice sounded high and plaintive in his own ears.
Almorante shoved him on. ‘Do not look, Darris. I regret what has had to be done. I regret your involvement in treasonous schemes. I take no pride in the events of this night.’
‘These are your people,’ Maycarpe said, stalling and pointing back with a shaking hand at the bodies on the floor. ‘They know nothing of treason. This is murder.’
Almorante took his arm firmly. ‘The few have to be sacrificed for the good of many. My presence here must remain unknown. Those whose fate led them to duties elsewhere this night may praise their fortune in the morning.’
Later, Maycarpe would barely remember the short journey to the dressing room. The only image that stayed with him was the moment when he handed the Crown of Silence to Almorante. It was still concealed in its wrappings, which the prince peeled away. A weird greenish light emanated from the coral spines, rendering Almorante’s face demonic, filling it with hungry longing. Then, he sniffed and abruptly flicked the coverings back into place.
‘Do you intend to wear this crown?’ Maycarpe said.
Almorante gave him a hard glance. ‘It belongs to the Malagashes,’ he replied. ‘That’s all you need to know.’
‘What do you intend to do with me, Mante?’ Maycarpe asked. ‘I cannot imagine you will simply leave me here with a fond farewell.’
‘You are correct,’ Almorante said. ‘Both you and your sorceress friend will return with me to Magrast. You know many interesting things, which we are eager to learn. If you behave well and co-operate, your life will be easier and – need I say – longer.’
‘There are those in Magrast who will not look kindly upon your actions.’
Almorante smiled in a hard, feral way. ‘And they will not learn of your presence there.’ He gestured to his men. ‘Fetch the woman. We leave for the docks at once.’
Maycarpe and Sinaclara were shackled in a cramped cabin upon a Magravandian galleon bound for Magrast. Sinaclara would accept no physical comfort. She appeared numb from shock, her hands still covered in Nana’s blood. Maycarpe guessed she had tried to help her friend while he’d taken Almorante to the dressing room. It had been obvious there was nothing that could be done.
‘You should not have stopped Almorante killing me,’ Maycarpe said to her. ‘I was prepared to die for what I believe.’
Sinaclara sighed heavily and made a clear effort to rouse herself from her daze. ‘He would have found the Crown anyway,’ she said in a slurred voice and rubbed her face with her stained fingers. ‘The world cannot lose you, not yet. There is work to do and for that you need this incarnation, this mind, this body, as do I. I received an intimation of this in the temple of Munt. But I could not speak of it.’
‘You should have done,’ Maycarpe said. ‘We could have been prepared.’
Sinaclara
closed her eyes. ‘I know,’ she whispered.
‘I, at least, should have foreseen this. I thought my plans were so carefully constructed, but there is always a random component. Always.’
Sinaclara pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Maycarpe imagined that in her mind she was seeing Nana’s death repeated, over and over. ‘Azcaranoth told me what would happen, that someone would die. But he also told me I must prevent a second death, which is what I did.’ She shook her head, her eyes still tightly shut. ‘But I have broken my oath to him, as he said I would.’
‘How?’ Maycarpe asked gently.
‘I vowed to keep the Crown from enemy hands, to give my own life to guard it.’
‘But Azcaranoth advised you what to do.’
Sinaclara opened her eyes and fixed him with a blood-shot stare. ‘I know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Nana was my rock, my closest friend. I should never have let her travel with me. She could now be in Jessapur with her people, safe and well.’
‘My dear,’ Maycarpe said in a soft voice, ‘if Nana had not been present tonight, it might well be you lying dead in my dining room now. And however terrible it sounds, I am relieved that is not the case.’
Sinaclara sighed heavily. ‘I must accept that what has happened was preordained. I didn’t realise how badly the Malagashes wanted the Crown.’
‘But what will they do with it now?’ Maycarpe mused, daring to put an arm around Sinaclara’s shoulder. She did not pull away. ‘That is the great question. And is there anyone left to stop them?’
It was not unusual for the emperor’s chief vizier and the head of the church to be seen together in public. Quite often, they shared a box at the theatre or the Terpsichareon, neither being family men, and therefore free of an entourage of relatives eager to take advantage of complimentary seats. But Senefex and Mordryn were not at the Magrast Hippodrome to spend a leisurely afternoon studying the horses or placing reckless bets. They had come to talk, away from the palace and the governmental offices. Privacy was essential.
‘A wave is building up,’ murmured Senefex, peering at the course below. ‘It is a great black wave.’
‘We should guard against over-reaction,’ said Mordryn. He took a few spiced nuts from the paper cone in his hand and threw them into his mouth.
‘We have to face facts nonetheless,’ Senefex said. ‘The evidence cannot be ignored.’
The evidence derived from Gastern’s chamber valet, Horgan. He had approached Senefex the previous week and had, in nervous tones, related that all was not well with his master. The emperor had taken to absenting himself from his room at night. Horgan had been woken on a number of occasions to catch glimpses of Gastern leaving his chambers by several of the secret exits, which had been built into the palace for security reasons. At first, the valet had believed the emperor to be sleep-walking and had hurried after him, but when he had placed a hand upon Gastern’s arm, the man had turned on him with a snarl and ordered him to return to his chambers. Horgan spoke of the bad dreams that had come to plague the emperor and asked Senefex’s advice as to how to proceed. Should the royal physicians be called? It might be difficult and invite Gastern’s wrath, because physically there seemed nothing wrong with him. Polite enquiries as to the state of his nerves had provoked nothing but an angry response.
Senefex had done what he could to calm Horgan’s fears. ‘I will speak to his mightiness,’ he had said. ‘But keep a record of any unusual or eccentric behaviour. Report to me personally on a daily basis. Speak to no one else about this matter, upon pain of death. Especially, do not speak to Grand Mage Alguin. Is that clear?’
Horgan had obeyed the vizier’s directives. Meanwhile, Senefex had put plans of his own into operation. He’d had the emperor followed on his nightly jaunts. Gastern, adopting a cursory disguise, wandered the streets of the city. He went from church to church, inspecting the ancient warding hexes that had been carved into the walls and doors, as if to assure himself the city was safe from evil. Sometimes, whores and beggars would accost him, unaware of his identity: his best disguise after all was that no one would expect the emperor himself to be abroad in the city, alone. Gastern worked holy symbols on the air before their faces, which adopted expressions of astonishment or scorn, depending on their character. He spoke prayers aloud and called upon the fire of Madragore to purge the city of sin. Hearing of these events, Senefex suspected Alguin’s influence at work, but the emperor had spent little time with his priestly mentor recently. Horgan reported that on two occasions, Alguin had been turned away from Gastern’s chambers.
Senefex listened to his spies’ reports with an increasing sense of unease. He did not know whose hand was behind it. Gastern’s rapidly deteriorating condition might interfere with his and Mordryn’s own plans.
The archimage, apparently unconcerned, munched his spiced snack and watched the horses careen around the dusty track, their jockeys reaching out to snatch red marker ribbons dangling from posts stationed at regular intervals. ‘Of course, we had anticipated that, in later life, Gastern might become eccentric,’ he said, ‘but this comes too soon. I believed he would be content with building new cathedrals and spreading the word of Our Lord abroad. What you describe suggests a neurosis, and this could be inconvenient. It will fuel arguments against Gastern’s tenure. His eager brothers are waiting in the wings for him to fall. The slightest chink and they’ll be in through the defences like famished wolves.’
‘It has crossed my mind that one of them may be behind this,’ Senefex said. ‘Too many of the Malagashes are proficient with toxins.’
Mordryn considered these words. ‘The idea is appealing, because it suggests the condition might be reversible, but I do not think poison is responsible. There would be other symptoms, surely? And the staff around Gastern are hand-picked, trustworthy. I hope you don’t think one of them might be less loyal than we think.’
‘I did consider that,’ Senefex replied, ‘and made sure the situation was explored, but all seems in order. If there is a spy among our people, they are extraordinarily adept at concealing themselves. However, there are many methods of administering poison. I don’t think it should be discounted.’
‘Perhaps Gastern should take a holiday with his family,’ Mordryn said, ‘accompanied only by those we know to be trustworthy. Let us see if his condition improves outside Magrast. A trip to the Lakes might be a good idea.’
‘It is indeed,’ Senefex agreed. ‘We should approach the emperor directly and suggest it to him.’
‘If his affliction cannot be cured,’ said Mordryn, ‘then we must consider how to use it to our advantage.’
For some moments, the two men were silent as the race below them came to its climax. The afternoon was dreary so there were few patrons in the circular seats, but those who were present now got to their feet and yelled or else held their heads in their hands in despondency. Only hardened gamblers visited these training races, or men with things to hide.
‘Another thing disquiets me,’ Senefex said, as the hubbub faded away. People were leaving their seats now, and below, trainers threw blankets over the steaming horses, before leading them away. The races were over for the day.
‘And what is that?’ Mordryn enquired.
‘The Dragon Lord has been absent from Magrast for too long. He should return. We need him by us at this time.’
‘When we recalled him,’ Mordryn said, screwing the paper cone, now empty of nuts, into a tight ball, ‘the only response we got was a report from his family that he is engaged upon a search for his missing wife.’
‘I sympathise with his dilemma,’ Senefex said, ‘but he has responsibilities. He should use his own trained men to retrieve his wife, and return to us. I feel we must issue a command to this effect. The Fire Chamber will be in accord over it. Many of the councillors are beginning to fret.’
Mordryn threw the ball of paper into a rubbish bin nearby. ‘No one knows where Palindrak
e is exactly, so he can hardly be ordered back to Magrast.’
Senefex frowned deeply. ‘People will say that this is not like him. He has never shown himself to be a devoted family man before. If anything, rumour suggests he barely shares the princess’s bed. His son and heir is safe in Magrast. The extent of his personal involvement makes no sense. People will begin to wonder whether there is more to this than it appears.’
‘Palindrake knows where his grain is safely stored,’ Mordryn answered. ‘He will not decide independently to change allegiance. We should be more concerned about how Palindrake might easily be kidnapped or disposed of himself out in the wilderness of Cos.’
‘That is a perturbing thought,’ Senefex said, ‘though I have always believed him to be charmed against ordinary danger.’
‘Every man’s luck runs out on him at some time or another,’ Mordryn said. ‘Still, we cannot worry about that now. Palindrake is not here, but has left Captain Lorca in command. We must make proper use of him in the Dragon Lord’s absence. Palindrake’s son is too young to be of use.’
‘Lorca must, of course, accompany the emperor on his holiday.’
‘Naturally. We must take him into our confidence. Palindrake is no fool. In his absence, we will trust whom he trusts. I am sure he will return to Magrast the moment he has concluded his personal business and that this will be soon.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Senefex. ‘But the wind is blowing hard and who knows how the chaff will fall.’
‘I will speak to Gastern this evening,’ Mordryn said. ‘Perhaps you should join me.’
‘I will do that,’ Senefex said.
Ponderously, Mordryn rose to his feet and began to leave the Hippodrome. Then he paused and looked back at Senefex who had remained seated. ‘Find out whether the Grand Queen Mother is aware of her eldest son’s nocturnal peregrinations,’ he said. ‘If there is anyone we should keep a close eye on in Magrast, it is her.’
Tatrini was aware of Gastern’s new habits, and like the archimage and the vizier, wondered about them. Was Gastern simply manifesting his own madness, or was someone else behind it? She could not imagine who that might be, other than herself, and in this instance, her hands were clean. If Gastern had begun the long dark journey into madness, it could only help her cause, but for the time being she must put it from her mind. She had more important and immediate matters to attend to.
The Way of Light Page 31
