by Allan Cole
Raveline led me through the Great Hall, where relicts and battle flags from his dynasty's reign hung below the shadow-buried gambrel roof, into a smaller chamber. In the center of the room was a table. On it were half a dozen covered golden dishes. There were only two places laid, and each of the utensils and plates had been turned or cut from a different-colored block of jade, from red to translucent to various greens to white. To one side was another table, this one laden with a dizzying assortment of bottles and decanters, containing the liquors of many lands.
Prince Raveline asked me what I cared to drink, and I suggested I would be most content with whatever he chose, although I warned him I would most likely offend by not showing proper appreciation by draining my glass. "For it is a custom of my people, especially with me, who has a weak head, to avoid the grape until business has been concluded. Since you said outside you had some matters of import to discuss, I would be deeply shamed if I woke tomorrow and found all the wisdom I'd spouted had been filtered through dregs. After I have heard your ideas, and determined how best we Orissans can implement them, well, then we can pour it down by the hogshead if Your Highness wishes." Raveline smiled, poured two glasses, but said nothing; neither acknowledging my flattery nor reprimanding me for it.
We sat down and, without preamble, he began:" You know of course that your journeys toward our lands were watched, from the first day you were first wrecked on the Pepper Coast until we provided rescue on the wharves at Gomalalee."
I kept a bland countenance and answered that we had been told of the Far Kingdoms' interest, but not that it had reached back to my Finding. "A question, my lord. You used the words Pepper Coast. I thought the people of Vacaan had but the smallest interest in what lies beyond their own borders?"
"Mostly correct," Raveline said. "But there are exceptions. I am one such, which will be a topic of conversation in a few moments. But holding to the subject at hand first: you were not only watched, but you were tested at times. For instance, in Gomalalee."
"Of course, if we had failed to respond as you deemed fit..." I said, and let my sentence trail off.
"Then, you would hardly have been worthy of being the ones who did achieve Vacaan." I felt anger flash, remembering dead men, injured men, sick men, and desperate men facing death from thirst or sorcery, but repressed it. I did, however, allow a touch of sarcasm to color my next sentence as to how pleased we were to have been found worthy.
"Now to return to the earlier matter," Raveline said. "I am sure you're aware that, at present, the interest the Kingdoms of Vacaan have in your western lands is minor, and shall probably extend no more than allowing some of our knowledge or goods to be exchanged, at a point beyond our borders, for whatever crafts, artifacts or perhaps people of pleasure we might find amusing."
I felt a slight thrill: despite his use of words meant to diminish my hopes, this was a clue from the king's brother, himself, that my efforts might meet with success - and smiled approvingly. Needless to say, I set aside any reaction to the proposal I might be interested in pimping for the Far Kingdoms.
"You look pleased," Raveline observed. "I, myself, think such a boon would be a paltry return for how much you and your companions, especially Sir Greycloak, have endured over the years. So what we will discuss, after we eat, is how much closer a relationship between the Lands of the West and these Kingdoms might be, should circumstances... alter."
With that, he lifted one of the dish covers and began to serve our meal. I do not remember what viands we consumed, other than they were perfection - each bite sending a different explosion through the senses. What impressed me was the manner of serving. At no time did a servitor appear, but whenever Raveline lifted the cover from a dish a different course would be exposed. I heard no sound of pistons or hydraulic mechanisms from below, so I presumed the platter change was done magickally.
Similarly, our plates were always kept fresh and clean. I would eat all I desired of a particular dish, look away or laugh at a bit of Raveline's wit, and somehow sensing my satiety, the plate would be clean and bare. I wondered if Raveline preferred to dine in this manner at all times, with never a smiling servant or maid to be seen nor a beaming cook to compliment and reward. It seemed sterile, but I thought it would prevent anything discussed over a meal from becoming fodder for the city's gossips.
I do not recall what subjects we chatted about, but they had nothing to do with anything bearing on trade, Orissa, nor even our presence in Raveline's Kingdoms. Most of his talk concerned various court intrigues, the details stopping just short of being salacious. We also talked of the arts and music of Vacaan. As he spoke, I realized he knew of my love for Omerye, and that he was telling me, most subtly, she should now be considered as much a hostage to fortune as Janos, myself, or any of my men. Do not think I became angry, or even felt threatened - Raveline merely ensured I was aware there was now one more factor in the equation for me.
When we finished he led me into another room. There were couches arranged about the room, and when I sank into one of them, it welcomed me as softly as a lover's arms. Another drink table was next to us and both Prince Raveline and I sipped a fruit liqueur. The couches were in a semi-circle around a tall, highly-polished mirror that hung from a stand as if it were a gong. I knew the glass was sorcerous, and wondered what Raveline intended to show me. Before sitting, he touched the surface of the mirror, and it sprang to life. I was looking at a small party of men walking beside a river. I was observing my own Finding as we marched through the fertile, abandoned valley above the Pepper Coast. The perspective must have been from one of The Watchers.
"You were not jesting about having observed my entire career," I managed.
And Raveline replied: "Each time you've entered our lands, or those lands bordering them, our Watchers have been there. I will confess, however, that your recent expedition was mounted in a most clever manner. You were not seen - although seeing is not the correct word - until you had crossed the pass beyond Wehumwa and entered the frontiers of Gomalalee."
He motioned, and a new image swam up on the mirror. Now I was looking at Orissa, as if seen from an invisible tower a thousand feet tall, in the center of the city. A great wave of homesickness swept across me, doubly strong as I realized the image before me was Orissa at this very moment. It would have been just before dawn, I observed, but there were still lights showing. I could make out the Street of the Gods, the Citadel of the Magistrates, and the Palace of the Evocators. I tried to locate my own home, without showing such interest to the Prince.
"As I said, I take more interest in the West than most of my people," Raveline said. "Which is one reason, after a certain period of what I shall politely call skepticism about you and Janos Greycloak and your intentions, I became your most fervent supporter. I have realized Vacaan must look in new directions in the future... beginning with Orissa and Lycanth."
"What form," I asked carefully, "do you think Vacaan's interest should take?"
Raveline sipped at his drink. "I am not sure I care, nor am I sure I am able, to answer your question in the fullest detail. Suffice it to repeat that, if certain imbalances within the Court were corrected, in a short time there would be a much closer relationship with Orissa." His expression hardened, as did his tone. "This is an opportunity I shall not allow Vacaan to miss. We must, and shall, seize the moment. That is why I requested your company this evening. I propose to throw the full weight of my power behind a plan to open the doors to the West." His voice became calm once more. "When this is accomplished, I shall require representation - personal representation - in your lands. I offer such a position to you, Lord Antero."
"As a merchant?" I asked. "I was told you have nothing but scorn for the mechanics of business."
"I would not express my feelings for those who predicate their lives around profit that impolitely, although I personally have always preferred another sort of coinage. But the answer is no. Your trade is secondary to your title, your obvious vision and the
respect you are given in Orissa. I want a man whom I can trust, a man who will sit in the highest councils in your... Palace of Magistrates. You would speak with my voice in Orissa and, it is not inconceivable, Lycanth as well."
I could not allow Raveline to read my expression, so I stood, and paced away from him. It was obvious to me what the Prince thought Vacaan's interest ultimately would grow to become - conquest. I would never preside over the destruction of my homeland, least of all as some wizard's toady. As quickly as the thought struck, I forced it away, not sure if the spells swirling around me could include mind reading. Now knowing Raveline's intent, I had to choose my thoughts, words and actions with exactitude. Not just because it appeared I was one step from opening the gateway to the Far Kingdoms, but also because rejecting Raveline's offer out of hand might mean I would find out just where the disappeared ones went.
I sought and found a ploy, and turned back to the Prince. "I am honored," I said. "But, frankly, my ambitions have never been quite that lofty, assuming I understand your offer... and I think I do."
"Those who reach, grasp," he said. "Someone in Orissa will fulfill this function for me. Why should it not be you?" So Raveline's plans were far advanced, and my co-option would not be the scheme's linchpin.
"Someone?," I suggested. "Why not my friend, Janos Greycloak?"
"I have several reasons. The first and least important is I doubt your people would accept a halfbreed as even their de facto ruler. I shall add that sort of foolish intransigence can be dealt with. You have passed several times through a great wasteland on your journeys. That land, as I am sure Janos' divinations have told you, was once green and storied. But its people stood against Vacaan. That was aeons gone, in the days of the Old Ones, or so the legend says. But to this day there is nothing but barren ground and sharp flints, and thus it shall serve as an example to others until time itself comes to an end!"
Raveline lowered his voice. "The second reason is because Sir Greycloak has ambitions and plans of his own, ambitions that fit most comfortably with my own desires. Greycloak has impressed me immensely. He wishes to learn all... to know everything that has been thought since the earth itself hatched sorcery. Where else can he learn such wisdom, but here in Irayas? I propose to enter him into my household service, given, of course, your willingness to release him from whatever oaths he swore to you. As he progresses... as he learns... he will not only win honors far beyond those Orissa has grudged him, but I plan to give him real power; power only just less than what I myself wield. I have heard my brother the King refer to me as his Hellhound. Such is the role I propose for Janos, soon to be Baron Greycloak. He shall be my Hellhound!"
I drained my glass, began to refill it, then deliberately looked about the bottles until I found a brandy decanter. I wished to appear as if I might be sealing a potential bargain. I poured my glass half-full, and turned back to Raveline.
"This is all most new, Your Highness. I assume you do not require an answer this moment."
"I had hoped for one," Raveline said, and a scowl touched his face.
"Forgive me, but I cannot give it, Your Grace. I have spent long years striving to reach your Kingdoms, all of which was spent in the company of a partner. I must confer with him. And, I should add, that Janos owes me no oaths nor fealty beyond those of friendship and a once-common goal."
Raveline started to say something, then bethought himself, and painted on an agreeable smile. "Ah. Yes. I forget that in the West the lines of authority are not as clearly delineated as they are here. A man may be considered a subordinate, but his opinion and rights given as much weight as if he were an equal. Very well. Consider our conversation. Discuss it with Sir Greycloak thoroughly. Of course, I would prefer this meeting to be considered sub rosa for everyone but Janos."
"Of course, Your Highness, " I said. Raveline refilled my brandy glass, and poured one of his own; he raised it in a toast. "There is a peasant proverb, which predates our taming of the Serpent River: `The wise man, caught in a spring flood, allows himself to be swept downstream to new riches. The fool struggles and is drowned.' To the wise."
After that there was little else to be said and I made my excuses, saying I was so excited by the ideas presented by Prince Raveline I wished to discuss them this very night with my friend... if he was yet awake.
This amused the Prince. "He does not sleep, Lord Antero. I shall order my servants to take you directly to his palace."
The coach was waiting and as it drew away, I looked back. Lord Raveline was still standing outside the entrance. In spite of the distance, in spite of the night, I felt as if his eyes still burned at me. I leaned back against my seat, trying to puzzle out a plan. But I wasted invaluable moments by cursing myself, Janos, and every Orissan from Ecco to the peasants of Cheapside; and especially the bazaar tale tellers and nurses who had prattled their stories to me as a child. None of us, not one, had ever considered the not unlikely possibility a nation as magnificent and powerful as the Far Kingdoms might not be over flowing with the milk of kindness; waiting only for one Orissan to dance up, so they could bless us with the knowledge that would allow us to return to the Golden Days, when each man was a king and his rulers the gods.
I even allowed myself a moment of self-pity, wishing I had never met Janos Greycloak and that my Finding had consisted of one long orgy of whoring and drinking through the lands of the West. But then I would never have met Deoce. Nor Omerye. Let alone the other things that had stretched me much beyond the callow youth I had been to whatever I was now. For better or worse, I preferred what was to what might have been. That was enough wasted time. My paw was firmly stuck in the honey jar, and I had best consider how to get it out.
I glanced out as we passed those two huge stone guardians that bordered Raveline's immediate grounds. I pulled my head back into the carriage with a shudder. It was quite dark, and I was certainly overwrought. But I swear I saw the heads of those two monstrous furies turn and look down at me.
* * *
Raveline's prediction that Janos was still awake was born out as the gondola tied up to the floating dock that led up to his water-girded mansion and I saw lights blazing within the manse. Two of the footmen were escorting me up the steps toward the mansions deck when I noted something unusual: tied to a piling, half-hidden in the blackness was a small boat. I might not have noted it, but every sense was now a-tingle for treachery or danger. I heard the sound of soft crying. I ordered one of the footmen to hold his torch high so I could see more. In the craft was a bundle of rags; then the rags moved and I saw that they clothed a woman. She was the first poorly-dressed person I had seen in Irayas. The footman was about to challenge her, but I tapped his shoulder and shook my head. We had no time to waste, and she was oblivious of our presence.
We went up the stairs and across the deck to the mansion's entrance. The second footman touched a small brass plate, and I could hear the resounding of a huge gong. He rang twice more before a door set within the main gate swung open, and four guards appeared, flanking the mansion's castelan. It was Gatra, the maker of Janos's many excuses that he was unavailable to meet.
"Lord Antero," he said. "My apologies for the delay, but there must have been an error. We were not anticipating the pleasure of your presence."
"I am not expected," I said. "I must speak to your master immediately, on a matter of the greatest import."
Gatra hesitated. "Sir Greycloak retired to his studies earlier, with the expressed desire he not be disturbed. But... since it is you, My Lord... excuse me for a moment." The door closed and the castelan was gone for long minutes. The portal reopened and he bowed me in. "Again, my apologies for making you wait," he said smoothly. "You are, as always, most welcome. Sir Greycloak is in the tower."
I dismissed Raveline's footmen and followed the man inside. Then I bethought myself. "Gatra, there is a small fishing skiff tied below, with a woman aboard who is crying as if she has just lost everything. Is this of concern to you or to this house
?"
The castelan's his face showed a flash of anger as he snapped, "She made a fair bargain. And the woman came to us in the first place." Curiosity overcame my preoccupation with greater matters, and I lifted an eyebrow for details. "A few days ago, we sought to augment our staff, even considering applications from country folk. Since the proper training takes much time, we required such prospective servants to be less than ten years of age, and of course, unsoiled by the world. One of them was that woman's daughter. She was here but a day before she stole something and managed to escape from the mansion into the city. I have no idea why the woman chooses to lament her spawn here. It isn't as if she cannot breed more. After I take you to Sir Greycloak I'll have her driven away."
I wondered at Gatra's knowledge of every detail of this enormous household, down to the honesty of the lowliest scullery-maid-to-be, but said nothing. As he turned to lead me onward, I noticed that he had a ribbon sewn to his tunic's lapel. It was red, gold and black. Gatra led me through the mansion's winding corridors toward into the central courtyard. I wrinkled my nose, smelling something untoward.
Gatra saw me. "This has been a night full of the unusual," he said, so smooth I knew he lied. "Not an hour ago we had a kitchen fire, when some lamb fat being reduced for a marinade blazed up, and it took a bucket brigade, and even a spell of Sir Greycloak before the fire was out... and I fear its reek still permeates the mansion."
The stench grew less noticeable as we came into the courtyard. In the center of the courtyard was the tower Janos had chosen for his private apartments and study.
"If you would go on up, milord," Gatra said. "Sir Greycloak said you should not be escorted into his presence, since he is just finishing his night's work, and any presence beyond yours might destroy his concentration. He will be in the uppermost chamber." I thanked him and went up the stairs that climbed along the inside of the tower wall. As I opened the door that led into the observatory, I heard a deep bass humming, a sound yet not a sound that resonated through my body and the stones around me.
