Wizard of the winds tott-1

by Allan Cole

  Safar smiled. I suppose it has, he said.

  But the smile hid gnawing worry. His vision had carried him to the gates of Zanzair, but no farther.

  And now all he could think was… What happens next?

  PART FIVE

  ZANZAIR

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  FIVE THIEF OF HEARTS

  She was a rare woman. She had beauty, she had wealth, she had power.

  She was also a woman of mystery, which in the time of the Demon Moon made her the rarest of women among men.

  Her crestthe sign of the House of Fatinahwas a silver dagger and there was much talk of how it had come to be.

  Some said it had been the crest of her late, unlamented husband, Lord Fatinah, a merchant among merchants so smitten by his young wife he'd left her his fortune. The Lady Fatinah, it was said, hastened her husband's departure from this world with his own dagger, which was made of silver. That the woman wore rich gowns all of mourning black and bearing the silver dagger crest added credence to this story.

  Others speculated she'd once been the favorite courtesan of a king, perhaps even Protarus himself. In this version she'd come up the loser in a harem war and was driven out, but with many chests of gold and rare stones to speed her departure. Some said she'd slain her rival with a silver dagger, but the death caused such a scandal she was banished from the harem. Once again the tale of the aging Lord Fatinah came into play. Rumor mongers said the marriage was arranged to sidestep the scandal. They also said Lord Fatinah died before the marriage was consummated. Again, the dying nobleman had been so enamored of his beauteous wife that he'd bequeathed her all his worldly goods.

  The curious throngs of Zanzair, with nearly as many humans as demons among them, babbled those tales and others when she passed by in her carriage, with the silver daggers emblazoned on each door.

  The Lady Fatinah had demon outriders to push the throngs back and a human driver to hurry the matched black team of horses along. A burly demon guard sat next to the driver, sweeping the crowd with his ever watchful eyes.

  Inside, Lady Fatinah's representative to Zanzair gushed on about all the arrangements he'd made in anticipation of her visit.

  "You will see with your own eyes, My Lady, the man said, that you chose wisely when you picked Abubensu to tend to your business in Zanzair."

  He gestured out the window. They were traveling through the bazaar, an exotic scene of demons and humans haggling with stall keepers, or munching strange delights from the food carts; of families strolling along, purchases in hand, trailing human children and demon kits in their wake.

  "Zanzair is surely the most marvelous city in the whole history of Esmir, Abubensu said. Since our beloved king, Iraj Protarus, made it the center of his empire seven years ago, beings of every variety have flocked here, hoping against hope they can clutch the king's cloak and fly away with him to prosperity."

  He raised a cautioning finger. But Zanzair is also a most dangerous place, My Lady, he said. Some who came were honest business folk, like myself. But many were thieves, both of the common and noble-born variety.

  "And the intrigue! He shuddered. I can tell you stories about the intrigue and disgraceful goings on at the Royal Court that would set your teeth on edge."

  "I'm sure you can, Lady Fatinah said smoothly. And I'd be delighted to listen to your delicious tales at another time. But I hope you understand I have other things on my mind just now. Such as the living arrangements."

  Abubensu beamed. What a genteel and soft-worded employer he had. Quite unlike a woman who'd supposedly killed her husband. And so beautiful! Abubensu had never been this close to such a woman. She filled her expensive black gown quite pleasingly. Her lips were full, dark eyes sparkling with what he dared dream was promise.

  "You'll love the house I've found for you, My Lady, he said. It sits on a hill, quite by itself. The night view of Zanzair is simply overwhelming. Especially the view of Protarus palace. It's solid gold, you know, and when all the lights are turned on and the fountains are at play, why you would think it was the heavenly palace of a god."

  "The view sounds most pleasant, Lady Fatinah said, wiping the chin of her childa boy whose age was just past suckling and just short of speech. His name was Palimak, the Walarian word for promise.

  "But to be frank, she continued, it's more important to me that it have a good nursery."

  "Remodeled to your exact specifications, My Lady, Abubensu said. The grandest nursery ever created. No expense was spared."

  "I hope it isn't too grand, Lady, the nurse broke in. She was a small woman, round and with a deep grandmotherly bosom. Large spaces can be frightening to a child."

  "There's a separate room for you right next to the young master's, Scani, Abubensu hastened to tell the nurse. It's quite comfortable and you'll have no trouble keeping your eye on him."

  Scani looked doubtful and started to speak, but Lady Fatinah silenced her with a warning look. The nurse took Palimak from Lady Fatinah's arms and fussed and cooed over him, making furiously whispered promises that no matter where he slept, Scani would always be nearby.

  Abubensu went on. Your neighbors, he said, are all of wealth and breeding like yourself, My Lady. Their homes are close enough to give comfort, but distant enough to ensure privacy."

  "I mentioned in my letter, Lady Fatinah said, that I'd like to host a banquet as soon as possible to introduce myself to Zanzarian society."

  "It has been done, My Lady! Abubensu said with a pleased smile. As a matter of fact I've taken the liberty of arranging an affair two nights from now. Invitations have been sent to a favored fewall beings of quality, mind you. And your staff, which I picked myself, is at this moment readying the banquet."

  "There was one person in particular I asked you to invite, Lady Fatinah said. Was that done?"

  Abubensu bobbed his head. Yes, My Lady. Lord Timura has been invited."

  "And has he accepted?"

  He hesitated. Alas, My Lady, not as yet."

  "But you expect him to? Lady Fatinah pressed.

  The little man shrugged. I can't promise, My Lady, he said. After all, he is the Grand Wazier, second only to King Protarus in importance."

  Abubensu attempted a bit of gossip to steer conversation away from disappointment. They were childhood friends, you know, he said. They even call each other by their first namesSafar and Irajwhen in private."

  He leaned closer, voice conspiratorial. Although it is said that Lord Timura is not in such good grace with His Majesty these days. He has enemies who whisper ill things in the king's ear."

  A dramatic shrug. Who knows if these things are true, My Lady, he said. Perhaps it is best after all if Lord Timura fails to attend. Why bring his political troubles to your esteemed doorstep?"

  Lady Fatinah's eyes narrowed. I want him at the banquet, she said, and there was no mistaking her firmness in the matter.

  Abubensu struggled with his answer, clearly at a loss. I will try, My Lady, he said, but I can't swear that it's possible."

  Lady Fatinah smiled, saying, I have every faith in you, Abubensu."

  She handed him a silk purse filled with coin. Favor who you want with those, she said. Abubensu hefted the purse, brows rising as he noted the weight. And you may keep whatever is left over for yourself.

  "But make certain Lord Timura is there."

  She turned to look out the window.

  They'd come to a wide square and when she looked north she could see the blossoming trees that edged the Royal Gardens.

  Beyond were the spires of the Grand Palace, glittering eerily under the ever-present Demon Moon.

  Nerisa wondered if Safar would remember her after all these years.

  ****

  "In the end, King Protarus said, it all reduces itself to money."

  He snorted in disgust, an action much noted by the members of the assembled Royal Court. His snort would frame their discussions, dreams and nightmares for many days to come. Policy would be set becau
se of that snort. Alliances threatened, reformed, or shattered. Thousands of miles away, men both small and large would tremble when news arrived of the king's sharply expelled breath.

  "Every time I need to do something, Protarus said, I'm told the cost is too dear. And when Isimple plainsman that I amsuggest the solution is to get more money, why I'm told there's no more to be had!"

  The king's glare flowed down the several-leveled courtroom. First it took in Safar, his Grand Wazier and second in command, next the platform where King Lukawhose formal title was Prince of Zanzairsat with Lord Fari and other important demons. Below were the Protarus generals and top aides, a mixed lot that included demons and a few of his remaining rough plainsmen. Keeping himself slightly apart from this group was Kalasariz, who daily measured the distance and height between him and Safar. Beyond was the main floor of the courtroom, a vast area of hierarchical flatness where some courtiers were known to wear boosted up bootheels so they could stand taller and imagine they held greater favor with the king.

  "Someone explain to me how this can be, Protarus demanded. I am monarch of all Esmir. I number my subjects by the millions. All of whom seem to be going about making money and prospering, while their king lacks the basic means of running the kind of kingdom where they can prosper."

  Protarus shook his head. My problem is that I'm too generous, he said. I made all my friends wealthy. Palaces, lands, money… Money! There's that word again!"

  He looked at Safar. You have money, Lord Timura, he said. Why don't I?"

  "You have only to ask, Majesty, Safar said, and I will give it all back to you."

  Frustrated, Protarus rapped the edge of his throne with bejeweled knuckles. That's not the point, Lord Timura, he said. I'm not that sort of monarch. Once I give a gift, I never ask for its return."

  Leiria, Safar's guard and bedmate, stirred uncomfortably. She'd once been such a gift.

  "The point is this, Protarus continued, you have money and I don't because you have only your own household to keep up."

  Protarus hand swept across the courtroom, taking it all in. I've got a kingdom to maintain. That's my household! And where does my household money go? Not for luxuries, that's for certain.

  "The gods know I'm a man of simple tastes."

  No one dared mention this was a great exaggeration. Protarus had long since shed his soldierly past and reveled in the comforts and pleasures of being King of Kings. He had many palaces, all fully staffed, vast stables of fine mounts of every variety and purpose, huge rooms packed with decorative weapons and armor, bulging storehouses and wine cellars, and immense harems stocked with a continuously refreshed supply of women.

  The king sighed and sagged back in his throne, weary. The seven year reign had been difficult and it showed. Although he was still a man of less then thirty summers, he looked ten years older. His pride, his long golden locks, had thinned and he'd taken to wearing a jeweled skull cap beneath his crown. His beard was streaked with gray strands and his brow was plowed with worry lines.

  "Tell us the problem again, Lord Timura, he said. Lay it out fully so all can see."

  Safar murmured respectful assent and rose. He strode up to Protarus level and motioned to some men-in-waiting to pull aside the immense curtain behind the king's throne.

  The wall was covered with a tremendous bas relief of Esmir. The largest features were the Gods Divide, splitting much of the land from east to west, and the great desert, no longer forbidden, which had once separated human and demons.

  Safar palmed a few pellets, hurled his hand downward in a dramatic gesture and there were several sharp retorts, drawing gasps from the courtincluding Irajand a thin haze of smoke curtained up from floor to ceiling. Behind the haze the bas relief suddenly glowed into being, causing a low chorus of amazement. They were looking at a living map of Esmir, complete with small moving figures, forests waving in the winds and waves beating distant shores.

  Safar made a low bow to Iraj, with a sweeping showman's flourish.

  "Behold your kingdom, Majesty, he announced.

  Fari thought, I wonder how Timura does it? Not the living map… I understand that. Possibly even reproduce it, given a look at his notes. But the explosions and haze are another matter. Where was the magic? I sensed nothing!

  This mystery was only one of several reasons Fari believed Safar must go.

  Iraj's mood lightened. He clapped, saying, Oh, very good, Safar. Very good!"

  This was followed by a small patter of applause from the court. Luka grimly rattled his talons in false appreciation.

  He thought, why all the flourishes and dramatic gestures? You would think this was entertainment instead of the serious business of administration. He's playing up to us, especially to Protarus.

  Luka bitterly resented Safar's influence over Protarus. As Prince of Zanzair, Luka considered himself the second most important potentate in Esmir. He should be advising Protarus, not that commoner Safar Timura.

  "Here are the locations of our most troubled regions, Majesty, Safar said.

  He made another gesture and small flames flickered through the haze. There were at least two score spread out all over the kingdom. The flames were of different sizes, some minor glows where trouble was only starting, to larger spears of fire where things were nearly out of control.

  "So many, Protarus murmured.

  He shot a sharp glare at Kalasariz, saying, You never told me there were so many!"

  "Ah, yes, ah, I can explain, Your Majesty, Kalasariz fumbled. Delayed reports… because of the… ah… difficulties."

  Iraj gave him a cold nod and turned back to the map.

  "This is the very latest information I have from our temples, Safar said. And for the first time I think we can see just how widespread our problems are."

  Kalasariz seethed anger for being upstaged by the Grand Wazier. The spy master preferred to show the king what he wanted him to know so he could control events. That damnable Timura, with his damnable network of priests, was stabbing him in the back.

  Not for the first time, Kalasariz swore that some day he'd rid himself of Timura.

  "The greatest problem seems to be in Caspan, Majesty, Safar said, pointing at the leaping flames near the edge of the western sea.

  "Yes, yes, Protarus said. That's why the subject of money came up. We need to send troops there and put down the rebellion. But I was informed by my treasurer I didn't have the money to pay for it. The coffers, it seems, are empty."

  His gaze flickered over the map, once again noting the number. Finally he eyes came to rest on Caspan, nearly ringed with fire.

  "Money must be found for Caspan, he said. The question is where to get it."

  "Taxes, Your Majesty, Luka broke in. That's the answer. More taxes must be gathered. As you said, your subjects are enjoying prosperity because of your efforts. They should be willing to pay a fair price for that prosperity."

  "I must disagree, Majesty, Safar said. There is no general prosperity. A few areas, perhaps, but only those untouched by drought and plague. And, I might remind my noble friend, King Luka, these conditions have not only prevailed, but become worse over the past ten years."

  Fari snorted. Hadin, again! he muttered.

  Safar whirled on the old demon. I've shown you the evidence, he said. How can you deny the truth?"

  "I'm not denying anything, Fari said. Certainly there are problems. And possibly they were caused by some magical calamity in Hadin.

  "What I disagree with most strongly is that these problems are necessarily long lasting. There have been calamities before. Droughts come. Droughts go. Plagues come. Plagues go. It's the gods natural cycle. So only the best and most devout will live on to enjoy their well-deserved rewards."

  "I won't quarrel with my esteemed colleague, Majesty, Safar said. You want to hear solutions, not debate.

  "I have one such solution to propose."

  Protarus stirred. Do you now?"

  "I find myself agreeing with King Luk
a, Majesty, Safar said.

  Luka frowned. Where was this going?

  "Taxes are the answer, Majesty, Safar said. Only, don't tax those who already pay. Tax those who don't."

  Kalasariz eyes narrowed. So that's his game, he thought.

  "Tax me, Majesty, Safar said. I not only benefited from your gifts, but I pay no taxes on them."

  Safar pointed to Luka, then Fari, then Kalasariz, and all around the room, pointing at each nobleman in turn.

  "We have all prospered, Majesty, he said. But we pay nothing for it."

  Protarus was interested. I've often commented that generosity is my greatest virtue and flaw, he said. Apparently I've forgiven more taxes than is good for me."

  "Exactly, Majesty, Safar said. I'm sure all of my colleagues would be delighted to share your heavy burden during this emergency."

  "Ah, an emergency tax, Protarus said. Maybe calling it that would wipe off some of the sour looks in this group. He smiled at Luka and Fari. Both forced smiles in return. He went back to Safar"A temporary tax, lasting only through the emergency. That might go down better, politically speaking."

  "I for one do not fear sacrifice, Luka said. But I must point out that the money wouldn't be enough. It would pay for Caspan, perhaps. He pointed at the array of trouble spots on the bas relief. But what of the rest?"

  "King Luka is quite right, Your Majesty, Kalasariz said. And I also join him in my willingness to sacrifice and share your burden.

  "I also question the nature of the emergency."

  He pointed at the bas relief. This is very kind of negativism that is at the root of our problems, Your Majesty!"

  Protarus lifted his head, interested.

  "We are terrorizing your subjects, Majesty, Kalasariz continued, with all this bad news. It feeds rumor that things are worse. It makes rebels out of weak men. It makes good honest subjects lie to your tax gatherers when they come to collect. And hold back vast amounts of money that rightfully belong to you.