He paused at the hedge that disguised the lower entrance, then edged his way around it and stepped across the rocks leading to the winding path. The sky was clear, the night warm. He glanced up at the windows and terrace of the Great Hall far above. There were still people there but they would be leaving soon.
As indeed would he.
Tomorrow he would see Matze Chai and reveal his plans. The Chiatze would be horrified, he knew. The thought lifted him briefly. Matze Chai was one of the few people Waylander both trusted and liked. The merchant had arrived just before the Gathering. Waylander had sent Omri to show Matze Chai the suite of rooms assigned to him, and to convey Waylander's apologies for not being present to greet him. Omri had returned looking flustered and annoyed.
'Were the rooms to his liking?' Waylander had asked.
'He indicated they would suffice,' answered Omri. 'He then had one of his servants move around the suite wearing a white glove, which he used to see if there was any dust upon the shelves.'
Waylander laughed aloud. 'That is Matze Chai,' he said.
'I did not find it amusing, sir. In fact, it was extremely annoying. Other servants stripped the satin sheets from the bed examining it for bugs, while still more appeared with cloths and began cleaning and perfuming the bedroom. All the while your friend sat upon the balcony, saying nothing to me, but relaying his instructions through the captain of his guard. You told me that Matze Chai speaks our language perfectly, and yet he did not say a word to me. Most discourteous. I wish you had been there, sir. Perhaps he would have acted in a more civilized manner.'
'You dislike him?' asked Waylander.
'I do, sir.'
'Trust me, Omri, once you get to know him you will detest him.'
'What is it, may I ask, that you like about him?'
'A question I ask myself constantly,' answered Waylander, with a smile.
'I do not doubt it, sir, but – if you don't mind me saying – that is no answer.'
'A full answer would only confuse you more, my friend. So let me say this. There is only one fact that I know for certain about Matze Chai. His name is not Matze Chai. He is an invention. My guess is that Matze was low born, and clawed his way up from the lowest levels of Chiatze society, reinventing himself at every stage.'
'You mean he is a fraud?'
'No, far from it. Matze is like a living work of art. He has transformed something he perceived as base into a flawless Chiatze noble. I doubt he even allows himself to remember his origins.'
Waylander walked on through the moonlight, angling towards his own quarters. He paused at the edge of the cliff and stared out at the dark sea. The moon was reflected there, broken and shimmering upon the gentle waves. He stood in silence as a sea breeze blew gently across his face, and wished that he had been as successful as Matze in reinventing himself.
He gazed at the two moons, the high perfect light in the sky, and the fragmented twin upon the waves. As he did so he recalled the words of the seer: 'When you close your eyes and think of your son, what do you see?'
'I look down upon his dead face. He is lying on the meadow and there are spring flowers around his head.'
'You will not know happiness until you look up into his face,' the old man had told him.
The words had been meaningless then, and were meaningless now. The boy was dead, murdered, and buried. Waylander would never be able to look up into his face. Unless the seer had been talking about picturing him in some spiritual paradise high above the stars. Waylander took a deep breath, then moved on along the cliff path.
Ahead were a series of terraces, covered by flowers and screened by scented bushes. Waylander slowed, then stopped. 'Come out, boy,' he said wearily.
The young blond noble rose from behind a bush. In his hand was a golden-hilted shortsword – a light ceremonial blade, worn at official functions. 'Did you learn nothing from your brother's death?' asked Waylander.
'You killed him?'
'Aye, I killed him,' said Waylander coldly. 'I crushed his throat and he choked to death on the floor. As he died he pissed himself. That is what happens. That is the reality. He is gone – and for what?'
'For honour,' said the young man. 'He died for the honour of the family.'
'Where are your wits?' snapped Waylander. 'I loaned your uncle money, and when he could not repay I loaned him more. I did this because he made me promises – promises he failed to keep. Whose is the dishonour? Now your brother is dead. And all so that fat Vanis can avoid financial ruin. A man of his stupidity faced ruin anyway.' Waylander stepped in close to the young man. 'I do not want to have to kill you, boy. The last time we met you talked of your engagement to a young woman you adored. You spoke of love and a small estate by the coast. Think on it. If you walk away now I will take this matter no further. If you do not you will certainly die, for I offer no second chances to my enemies.'
He looked into the young man's eyes, and saw the fear there, and also the pride. 'I do love Sanja,' said the noble. 'But the estate I spoke of belongs – belonged – to my uncle. Without it I have nothing to offer her.'
'Then I shall give it to you as a wedding gift,' said Waylander softly, knowing even as he spoke that it was to no avail.
Anger shone in the noble's eyes. 'I am of House Kilraith!' he snapped. 'I do not need your pity, peasant!' He leapt forward, the sword slashing through the air. Waylander moved in to meet him, throwing up his left arm to block the blow at the noble's wrist, and curling his right hand up and behind the sword arm, clamping to it and dragging it back. The noble screamed, the sword dropping from his fingers as his arm snapped. Waylander pushed him away and swept up the fallen blade. The young man fell heavily and rolled to his knees. As he started to rise he felt the cold iron point of the blade against his throat. 'Don't kill me,' he begged.
A great sadness descended on Waylander as he looked into the frightened blue eyes. He took a deep breath. 'Too late,' he said. The blade plunged home, slashing through the jugular. Blood gouted from the severed vein and the noble fell back, his legs kicking out. Waylander let fall the sword and, turning his back, walked the last few steps to his quarters.
Another man was waiting there, sitting quietly, cross-legged upon the ground. He wore a pale grey, chequered robe, and a long Chiatze blade, scabbarded, was resting in his lap. He was a small man, round-shouldered, his face thin. He looked up as Waylander approached. 'You are a hard man,' he said.
'So they say,' replied Waylander coldly. 'What do you want?'
The Chiatze rose, pushing his scabbarded sword into the black sash at his waist. 'Matze Chai will be returning to his home soon. It is my desire to stay in Kydor. He said you might have need of a Rajnee. I see now that you do not.'
'Why do you wish to stay?' asked Waylander. 'Is there not employment enough within Chiatze lands?'
'There is a mystery I must solve,' the Rajnee told him.
Waylander shrugged. 'You are welcome here as long as you wish to stay,' he said. 'If you arrived with Matze Chai you will already have been given lodging. But I can offer no work for a swordsman.'
'That is most kind, Grey Man.' The Rajnee sighed. 'I must, however, inform you that I am carrying a … a burden.'
At that moment, from the path behind them, came a cry of shock and surprise. Waylander turned. A stocky, bearded Chiatze ran into view carrying a long, curved sword. He was wearing a roughly made garment fashioned from wolfskin. 'There's a body!' he said, his voice shrill. 'On the path. Had his throat cut!' He peered around at the surrounding vegetation. 'There are assassins,' he added. 'They could be anywhere. We should get inside. Call the guards!'
'This,' said the Rajnee, 'is Yu Yu Liang, the burden of which I spoke.'
'We fought demons together,' said Yu Yu.
Waylander glanced at the Rajnee. 'Demons?'
The man nodded. 'That is part of the mystery.'
'Come inside,' said Waylander, moving past the man and opening the door to his quarters.
Moments
later they were seated by the fire, the room bathed in the glow of lanterns and firelight. Yu Yu Liang sat on a rug, while the other two men occupied the only chairs in the room. 'The man who owns palace should give you better rooms,' Yu Yu told Waylander. 'I walk through palace. Much silver and gold, and velvet and silk. Probably he is rich bastard, and mean with money?'
'This man is the owner of the palace,' said the Rajnee in Chiatze.
Yu Yu glanced around the bare walls and grinned. 'And I am the emperor of the world.'
'You mentioned demons,' said Waylander. Briefly, and with no hint of melodrama, the Rajnee told him of the attack, the coming of the mist, and the strange creatures who walked within its depths. Waylander listened intently.
'The arm! Tell him about the arm!' said Yu Yu.
'I cut a limb from one of the creatures. The skin was pale, white grey. When sunlight touched it the flesh began to burn. Within a few heartbeats it had vanished entirely.'
'I have not heard of any such creatures in Kydor,' Waylander told him, 'nor any attacks of the kind you describe. I do recall reading about swords of bright light. I cannot remember the tome, but it is in the North Library. I will search for it tomorrow.' He looked into the Rajnee's dark eyes. 'What is your name, swordsman?'
'I am Kysumu.'
'I have heard of you. You are welcome in my home.'
Kysumu bowed, and said nothing.
'Recently I saw such a mist as you describe,' said Waylander. 'I sensed there was evil in it. We will discuss the mystery further when I have searched my library.'
Kysumu rose. Yu Yu scrambled to his feet beside him. He tugged at Kysumu's robe. 'What about assassins?' he asked.
'The dead man was the assassin,' said Kysumu.
'Oh.'
Kysumu sighed. He bowed again to Waylander. 'I will send your guards to fetch the body.'
Waylander nodded, then walked away from the two men, entering a lantern-lit room at the rear of the building.
Chapter Five
Matze Chai slept without dreams, and awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated. The suite of rooms assigned to him had been decorated with sublime taste, the colours of the walls delightfully matched in pastel shades of pale lime and pink. Works of art by the most famous and sought-after Chiatze artists adorned the walls, and the hand-painted silk curtains filtered the morning light, allowing Matze Chai to appreciate the beauty of the dawn without the harshness of the sun's glare upon his delicate eyes.
The furniture was exquisite, embellished with gold leaf, the bed wide and firm beneath a silken canopy. Even the pot beneath the bed, which Matze had used three times during the night, was embellished with gold. Such elegance almost made the trip worthwhile. Matze Chai rang the golden bell alongside his bed. The door opened and a servant stepped inside, a young man employed by Matze for the last two years. He couldn't remember his name.
The servant offered Matze Chai a goblet of cool water, but he waved it away. The young man left the room and returned with a ceramic bowl filled with warmed, scented water. Matze Chai sat up and the servant pulled back the covers. The old merchant relaxed as the boy helped him remove his night-shirt and hair-cap, allowing his mind to wander as the servant gently sponged and dried his skin. The boy then opened a pot of sweet-smelling cream.
'Not too much,' warned Matze Chai. The servant did not answer, for Matze Chai did not allow conversation so early in the day. Instead he lightly smoothed the cream into the dry skin of Matze Chai's shoulders and arms. After this he pulled loose the long ivory pins in Matze Chai's hair, applied fresh oils, then skilfully combed and brushed the hair, drawing it back into a tight bun at the crown, before slipping the ivory locking pins into place.
A second servant entered, bearing a tray on which sat a small silver tisane pot and a ceramic cup. Setting the tray by the bedside, the second servant moved to a large wardrobe, taking from it a heavy gown of yellow silk, beautifully embroidered with gold and blue songbirds. Matze Chai stood and stretched out his arms. The servant expertly slipped the gown over them, moving to the rear to button the upper portion of the garment, before attaching the lower section to ivory hooks at Matze Chai's waist. Swinging the golden sash around his master's waist, the servant tied it, then stepped back with a bow.
'I shall take my tisane upon the balcony,' said Matze Chai. Instantly the first servant moved to the curtains, drawing them aside. The second gathered up a wide-brimmed hat of artfully fashioned straw.
Matze Chai stepped out on to the balcony and sat down on a curved wooden bench, leaning his back against a large, embroidered cushion. The air was fresh and Matze believed he could detect salt in it. The light, however, was bright and unpleasant, and he gestured to the man holding the hat. He ran forward and placed it on Matze's head, angling it so that his face was in partial shadow, before tying it under his chin.
The stone of the balcony was cold under the merchant's feet. Glancing down, he wiggled his toes. Brief moments later one of the men knelt down and placed fur-lined slippers upon his feet.
Matze Chai sipped his tisane and decided that all was well with the world on this fine day. Waving his hand, he dismissed the servants and sat quietly in the morning sunshine. The breeze was fresh and cool, the sky a clear, cloudless blue.
He heard movement behind him, and the merest touch of irritation disturbed his tranquillity. Liu, the young captain of his guard, moved into sight and bowed deeply. He said nothing, waiting for his master's permission to speak.
'Well?' asked Matze Chai.
'The master of the house requests an audience, Lord. His servant, Omri, suggests that he could attend you presently.'
Matze Chai leant back against his cushion. For all that he was a round-eyed Gajin Waylander's manners were perfect. 'Convey to the servant that I would be honoured to entertain my old friend,' he said.
Liu bowed again, but did not depart immediately. Irritation once more touched Matze Chai, but he did not show it. He looked quizzically at the young soldier.
'One more matter, Lord, that you should be made aware of. There was an attempt on your . . . old friend's life last night. At the ball. Two men with knives attacked him.'
Matze Chai gave the briefest of nods, then waved his hand to dismiss the soldier. Was there ever a time, he wondered, when someone was not attempting to kill Waylander? One would have thought they would have learnt by now. His cup was empty and he looked for a servant to refill it, then remembered he had dismissed them. And his golden bell was all the way across the room by the bedside. He sighed. Then, glancing round to see that he was not observed, filled the cup. Matze Chai smiled. To serve oneself was quite liberating. But not civilized, he chided himself. Even so his good mood was restored and he waited patiently for Waylander to arrive.
A different servant ushered him in, removed the pot of tisane and the empty cup, then departed without a word. Matze Chai rose from his chair and offered a deep bow to his client, who responded in similar fashion before seating himself.
'It is good to see you, my friend,' said Waylander. 'I understand your journey was not without excitement.'
'It was – regrettably – not as dull as one would have liked,' agreed Matze Chai.
Waylander laughed. 'You don't change, Matze Chai,' he said, 'and I cannot tell you what a delight that is.' The smile faded. 'I apologize for asking you to make this journey, but I needed to see you.'
'You are leaving Kydor,' said Matze Chai.
'I am indeed.'
'Where to now? Ventria?'
Waylander shook his head. 'Across the western ocean.'
'The ocean? But why? There is nothing there – save the end of the world. It is where the stars flow into the sea. There is no land, no civilization. And even if there is land it will be barren and empty. Your wealth would be meaningless there.'
'It is meaningless here, Matze Chai.'
The elderly merchant sighed. 'You have never been content to be rich, Dakeyras. This, in some strange way I have yet to fathom, is why yo
u are rich. You care nothing for wealth. What is it, then, that you desire?'
'I wish I could answer that,' said Waylander. 'All I can say is that this life is not for me. I have no taste for it.'
'What is it that you wish me to do?'
'You already manage one sixth of all my ventures, and hold two fifths of my wealth. I shall give you letters to all merchants with whom I have business dealings. These will inform them that, from the time they receive my instructions, you will speak for me. I shall also tell them that if they do not hear from me within five years then all my ventures and capital become yours.'
Matze Chai was aghast at the thought. He struggled to come to terms with what Waylander offered. Already wealthy, Matze Chai would become instantly the richest man in all of Chiatze. What would there be left to strive for?
'I cannot accept this,' he said. 'You must reconsider.'
'You can always give it all away,' said Waylander. 'But whatever you choose I shall sail from this world and not return.'
'Are you truly so unhappy, my old friend?' asked Matze Chai.
'Will you do as I ask?'
Matze Chai sighed again, deeply. 'I will,' he said.
Waylander rose, then smiled. 'I will tell your servants to prepare your second pot of tisane,' he said. 'They really should have brought it by now.'
'I am served by cretins,' admitted Matze Chai, 'but, then, if I did not employ them their stupidity would see them starve in the streets.'
After Waylander had left Matze Chai sat lost in thought. He had long ago ceased to be surprised by his fondness for his Gajin client. When Waylander had first come to him, all those years ago, Matze Chai had been merely curious about the man. That curiosity led him to engage the old seer. Matze had sat upon the silken rug at the centre of the temple's inner sanctum and watched as the elderly priest cast the bones.
'Will this man be a danger to me?'
'Not if you do not betray him.'
Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows ds-9 Page 10
