“And I say it is …”
The voices came and went; louder, softer. Like waves on Cenmere. Rock me to sleep …
“This book? What sort of book is this for a boy of his age? Encyclopedia Hubbana? Is that all he gets to read?”
He did love Aunt Oro, but did wish she would go away now, stop shouting, let him’n’Moms go to sleep. The voices faded … then came back loud again.
“There’ll have to be a regency declared, won’t —”
“Oh, so that’s what brings you back to Hub? Think that you can get yourself made regent, do you —”
“Who else? You, I suppose? Daughter of a common soldier? Gods! Who else? Not that slug Ythbane? Eeech! The rumors are he dyes his hair. Does he?”
“How the Evil should I know?”
“How indeed?”
Moms screamed then, so loud that Shandie almost wakened. The fires of Ythbane’s switch burned hot again; he heard himself groan.
“Quiet!” Aunt Oro said. “You’ll waken the boy. Now listen to me, Uomaya! I don’t care who shares that fine bed of yours. I don’t care if he does have a blue tint to him. But I won’t let either one of you be regent, nor both together. Shandie’s a minor; I’m next in line. You’ve been trying to cut me out. Gods know I don’t want the job, but I’ve got a duty. What’s wrong with Father, anyway? Is that your doing, too? What are you doping him with?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! He’s old —”
“He wasn’t old a few months ago! Not like that. I heard the rumors, so I came back and —”
“Well, it’s none of my doing. And it isn’t poison, because we’ve changed his attendants several times, so it’s just some sort of old-age sickness. And it can’t be sorcery, not on him.”
“What do the wardens say?”
Please! Shandie thought. Oh, please go away and let me sleep, please. When you wake me, then it hurts.
“Wardens?” Moms laughed. “You think I talk to witches and warlocks? They must know, but they haven’t spoken.”
Aunt Oro groaned. “And of course they won’t do anything.”
“They can’t do anything. That’s the Protocol, dearie. Family’s exempt. No magic cures for us.”
The voices sank lower. Shandie sank away into dark wooziness again … and was roused by another voice.
“Your Imperial Highness! An unexpected honor!”
The consul!
Angry. Oh, dear.
Shandie discovered he was weeping again, into the sheet. He hadn’t been bad again, had he? No more, please, no more!
“Consul Ythbane! Are you responsible for this torture?”
“That is not your affair, Highness.”
“Yes it is! Why wasn’t I informed of my father’s illness?”
“We didn’t think you’d be interested. You bury yourself out in the country all the time, breeding horses. The council saw no point in worrying you.”
“And you’re trying to ram through a regency for yourself, aren’t you? You and Uomaya? Don’t think I haven’t heard.”
Shandie had never heard Aunt Oro be angry like this before.
“Heard what?”
“That you’re lovers.”
“Watch your tongue, woman!”
Aunt Oro gasped. “You dare threaten me? It is you who must beware. Why else would you be in the princess’s quarters in the middle of the night? You’ve been waiting until the old man’s completely incapable, and then you’re planning to marry her and —”
“And the opposition has summoned you. I expected this, of course.” Ythbane’s voice was getting deeper, which was a bad sign, but quieter, which was nicer. “Well, let me give you a warning, Princess Orosea. Your dear husband — how is his clock collection?”
“Fine … I mean, what on earth has Lee’s clock collection got to do with anything?”
“They’re dwarvish, aren’t they? Most of them? He trades with dwarves. Dwarves make the best clocks.”
“So?”
Aunt Oro had stopped shouting. Nicer.
“The Dark River border is alight again. Open war may have begun already. Trading with Dwanishian agents will be taken as evidence of treason.”
Mumble.
“But I do! Lots of witnesses. Documents. So here are my terms, Highness! You leave Hub by morning, or a Bill of Attainder will be laid before the Assembly at noon.”
Mumble. Weeping? Who was weeping?
Moms laughing. Good.
“I shall also have some documents for you to sign before you depart. Within the hour.”
Mumbles.
Soft mumbles.
Whispers. Quiet. Dark. Sleep …
Naught availeth:
Say not the struggle naught availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been, things remain.
Clough, Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth
TWO
Darkling way
1
“Who’s there?”
Kadolan twisted her head as far round as she could — which wasn’t very far these days. She overbalanced and grabbed at the bed for support. She had been praying.
Again a faint sound on the balcony, a flicker of movement in the moonlight … A burglar? In the palace of Arakkaran, with its innumerable guards? Inos had mentioned intruders —
“Princess? Highness? My pardon if I frightened you.”
Her leaping heart took wing altogether, and she gasped with the pain of it.
“Doctor Sagorn?”
“It is I,” said the soft, dry voice. “I fear my entry was unorthodox.”
Kadolan thought of how high that balcony was, and remembered a ruby brooch, and understood. The thief … whatever his name was … Sagorn gave her no time to catch her breath.
“My garb is not very seemly, ma’am,” he said. “Perhaps I may scout for a robe of some sort? I apologize for waking you so suddenly.”
She did not sleep on the floor, but in an embarrassing situation like this, a true gentleman would always imply he had seen much less than he had. “How extremely kind of you to come, Doctor. Please do go into that room there, and I shall be with you in a moment.”
He murmured, and she heard a shuffling, cautious tread. Then she levered herself up from her knees and fumbled to find her housecoat. She allowed a few moments for her unconventional visitor to make himself decent, and for her heart to finish its slow descent from the heights, and for a quick adjustment of her nightcap over her curlers.
Then she went in. He was a blurred dark shade in a chair, with specter-pale shanks connecting it to the floor. Something that was probably a sheathed sword lay at his feet. She settled herself carefully in a chair opposite.
“Lights may be inadvisable,” she said cautiously.
“Indeed they may! I regret disturbing your sleep like this.”
“I was not sleeping.” She would not mention nightmares of incandescent sorceresses. “I was invoking the God of Love.”
After a thoughtful pause, Sagorn said, “Why Them?”
“Because it must have been They who appeared to Inos. I can’t think why none of us realized. Trust in love, They said.”
He sighed. “How true! And Inosolan did not, did she?”
“She did not realize! We believed that you were all dead — that the imps had killed you.”
“And the faun, also, obviously.”
“Yes. May I offer some refreshment, Doctor? There is usually some fruit and —”
He raised a pale blur of a hand — her night vision had never been good, and now it was terrible. “That is not necessary.”
“So how did you escape from Inisso’s chamber, Doctor? And how on earth did you manage to bring Master Rap here, all the way from Krasnegar in so short a time?”
Sagorn chuckled dryly, an oddly nostalgic sound. “I did not bring him. He brought me.”
Ah! Sudden relief! “Then he is not only a seer, h
e is a sorcerer?”
“Just an adept, ma’am. He knows two words of power.”
“His own … and you told him yours?”
Pause. “Yes, I did.”
“That was extremely generous of you.”
“It seemed advisable at the time,” he murmured, and she wished she could make out his expression.
For a moment neither spoke — there was just so much to say! Kadolan’s head was whirling as she became aware of all the possibilities.
“You are good friends, then, you and Master Rap?”
“Fellow travelers on a strange road. But I have come to appreciate Master Rap. Even for a faun he is … ‘tenacious’ would be the politest term. He is steadfast and honorable. I owe him much.”
Detecting curious undertones, Kadolan waited for more, but apparently there was not to be more.
“So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Doctor?” Formality was always the safer path in emotional moments.
He threw back his head and guffawed. “Kade, you are a wonder! You do recall … but I suppose this is no time for reminiscences.”
“Hardly,” she murmured. “If the guards find you, you may have enough time to write your entire life story.”
“Or no time at all?”
“Exactly.”
How long ago had it been — thirty years? Longer … she happily married in Kinvale, her brother passing through on his travels with his mentor Sagorn. Good times, but long ago, and she would not allow him to promote a passing encounter into a friendship that had never been. Sagorn had been much older than she in those days, and more a tutor than a friend to Holindarn. Keep it formal.
“Well, now,” he said. “The boy is now in jail, I understand.”
“That is true. He is lucky to be alive.”
He chuckled. “Then age must rescue youth. You and I must organize his escape before the sultan changes his mind.”
Had there been an odd timbre to that remark also? Since her eyesight had started failing, Kadolan had come to depend much more on nuances of tone than she ever had in her youth. She felt a twinge of caution, as if some young swain at Kinvale had overstated the value of his estates or boasted of his prospects in the military. Her hunches in such matters were usually reliable. Men trusted words more than women did, as a rule, and hence were less mindful of how they were spoken.
“But of course!” she said eagerly. “How do you propose we go about it, though? The sultan gave orders that he was to be most strictly guarded.”
“Quite! I have seen palaces in my time, but never one so like an armed camp. I do not believe that a rescue is humanly possible … mundanely possible!”
Carefully Kadolan said, “So?”
“It would seem that the God’s caution to Inos referred to the stableboy. Not Andor, certainly. Nor, I suspect, the sultan.”
“Is Master Rap in love with my niece?”
Another of his dry chuckles … “Ha! He has fought his way past warlocks and sorcerers and dragons, out of jails and castles, jungles and pirate ships, through storm and shipwreck to reach her side. And I think in return he would happily serve her as ostler for the rest of his days.”
Kadolan tried to swallow the nasty knot in her throat. Just as she had feared — a stableboy! And a faun! The Gods had strange ideas sometimes. How could she have known?
“Then we must do everything we can for him. Explain your plan, please.”
“I propose that Inosolan make amends for her failure to trust in love.”
That startled her. “Inos? A single word from her to the sultan would —”
“No!” Sagorn said sharply. “A word to me.”
“Oh!” Now Kadolan saw, and her distrust swelled up like a summer thunderhead. Dawn was coming. The sage’s face was a little less of a vague paleness. She could see his eyes now. “Her word of power, you mean, Doctor?”
“Exactly. The sultan took precautions against an adept escaping. He ordered that the prisoner must not be allowed to speak, and must be watched at all times, and so on. He did not consider the possibility of another adept attempting a rescue, and I am confident that an extrication could be effected by an adept. We — my associates and myself, that is — know at present only a single word, and we reduced our power when we shared it with Master Rap … not that we grudge the sacrifice, of course. No regrets! To be truthful, the loss was not as severe as I would have expected. Perhaps our word is known by many people, so sharing it with one more made little difference. But a second word is certainly requisite for the venture I have proposed.”
Kadolan sat and thought for a while, hoping to hear some more before she explained the problem.
“And if he dies in jail,” Sagorn said, his voice a little harder, “then what we gave away will be returned to us.”
“So you hope to go to Inos —”
“I think Jalon may be the answer here, ma’am. He is a skilled mimic, of course, and quite expert at female impersonation. Zarkian costume could hardly be more suited to the purpose. If you were to invite your niece to your quarters to hear a remarkable female singer, then I doubt that the sultan would object.” He waited for reaction, then added testily, “And after that, you will have to arrange a private interview, of course. That should be possible, I think.”
Kadolan took a deep breath. “Sharing the words is always risky, is it not? You yourself explained that to us. Of course your own integrity is beyond question, Doctor, but if Inosolan shares her word with you, then can you guarantee your associates’ good behavior afterward? Or would she fare like the woman in … Fal Dornin, I think it was?”
He sighed. “She is well guarded here, ma’am.”
That was not much of an answer.
“It is the only possible solution!” he insisted.
The first breath of morning twitched the drapes with a hint of impatience. Time was slipping away.
She cut the knot. “It is impossible. The sultan and sultana are not in residence.”
Sagorn released a long hiss of breath. “When do you anticipate their return?”
“At least two weeks,” she said cautiously. That was true.
Silence. She saw him rub his cheek. The sky was growing brighter beyond the arched windows. Dawn came swiftly here.
“Too late. Doctor?”
“Yes.” There was a note of defeat in that voice, and Kadolan did not like the implications.
“Have you any word of Master Rap’s condition?” she asked.
The lanky form seemed to sink deeper into the chair. “Not good, ma’am. Not good at all.”
Hmm! He had not mentioned that sooner, and she wondered why. It would have added urgency to the request.
Give him a word of power, indeed!
“In any case, would it not have been better strategy for Inos to have passed her word directly to Master Rap? A mage could not be held captive; even Prince Kar said so. And more in keeping with the tenor of the God’s command, too?”
Sagorn uttered a sort of hollow chuckle. “The point would seem to be moot. And just how could the sultana have ever visited that dungeon without the sultan finding out and stopping her?”
There was another answer, though. Kadolan’s prayers had been heard.
“Could you visit that cell, Doctor?”
“Me, ma’am?”
“You and your … invisible companions.”
His pale eyes glittered in the feeble wisps of dawn light. “Why do you ask?”
Aware that she was fencing with a celebrated mind, and must certainly lose the match very shortly, Kadolan said, “You could take a message?”
“Possibly, at the risk of all our lives. What message would be worth it?”
“A very confidential one.”
She did not need dawn to be aware of his suspicion. “I wish you to take me now to see Master Rap,” she said firmly, and was surprised at how firm that was, considering the way her insides were behaving. “We had better go at once, as daylight is not far off.”
>
Sagorn stayed still as a crouching leopard for long seconds. Then he said, “I never could understand how so powerful a sorcerer, a former warlock, could have known but three words.”
It was hopeless. “Doctor?” she said blankly. “We must hurry if —”
“Inisso gave one word to each of his three sons.”
“That is the legend.” She began to rise.
“The words now known by Inosolan and Kalkor and Angilki. But the fourth descended in the female line?”
Hopeless! Kadolan sighed and sat back again.
“Do tell,” he said coldly.
“Yes,” she admitted. “The kings have never known of it. When our mother died, Holindarn was still a bachelor, so she passed it to me. But always it belonged to Krasnegar — so that there would be another available if it were needed, I suppose. When he married Evanaire, then of course I told her.”
“‘Of course,’ you say? Few would!”
The ancient secret was out. Kadolan had laid herself open to murder now. “I don’t think it can be a very powerful word, Doctor. Evanaire was a marvelously popular person, but she had always been a sweet girl. And I am no worker of miracles. Never have been. Just a useless aristocratic parasite.”
“And the finest chaperon and trainer of young ladies in the Impire!” He thumped the arm of the chair, raising a puff of dust. “I should have guessed! The missing fourth word!”
“I never believed in it … but I did feel something when Evanaire died. The very day.”
“Of course you would — your power had increased! And your niece needed your talent!” He was suddenly excited, the scholar slaying a mystery. “And it was not Inos whom Elkarath detected working magic in Thume — it was you! Your occult power at work when your ward was in danger!”
“Gracious!” She had not thought of that. “How did you ever hear about that?”
“The missing fourth word!” he said again … gloatingly?
She hauled herself to her feet. “Missing no longer. I wish to share it with Master Rap.”
Still Sagorn remained in his chair. “How ironic! When the imps were breaking down the door and Inosolan and I were arguing about telling the boy our words to make him a mage — there you were with a fourth word, and could have made him a full sorcerer!” He cocked his head quizzically. “Would you have done so, had he been willing?”
A Man of His Word Page 121
