by Andre Norton
So equipped she went below to find Kryn already at the courtyard gate, impatience plain to read in his face and body.
CHAPTER 18
Nosh found it difficult to match step with her companion. He strode along as if on some errand which he wanted quickly done. They did not head along the way Danus had taken when he had made her familiar with the marketplace but rather into a narrow side street.
There were passersby here but none with personal guards or the colorful outer robes which marked a substantial merchant. She noticed almost at once that Kryn’s eyes were never still, that he kept watch while they moved forward as he might had he been on a scout from the refuge. Nor did he talk.
They wound a way which bewildered Nosh and which she believed that she could not retrace by herself. The houses grew smaller, far less imposing than those near the heart of the city, and the few shops which fronted on the street had second-rate merchandise as far as a fleeting glance could tell her.
But…
Her hand moved under her cloak to cup over the hidden crystals. No, she was not mistaken. Just as before she had been drawn to the skeleton and its treasure, so now she met another such reaching out.
“There is one following—” Kryn spoke sharply enough to gain her full attention for the moment. He had paused and was looking back in the direction from which they had come. “We may seem easy taking for some ambitious one of these creepers they talk of—”
Nosh glanced around but could see no one except an old woman bent nearly double under a bundle of firewood and beyond her a man, plainly deep in drink, lurching along.
“Who—?” she asked, unable to see any harm in either and pushed by the need of her quest.
Kryn frowned. “He is gone now… small—perhaps only a boy—such can run spy errands.”
“Spy errands—” she was echoing when he grasped her arm.
“Let us get on with this before we draw more attention,” he snapped.
Kryn turned abruptly into the side alley, where their boots slipped on nauseating slime and there were piles of debris to be skirted. So they came to face the deserted, ruinous fore of the shrine.
Within the bag the crystals flared but that was hidden by the folds of the cloak. At Nosh’s right ear sounded the sharp chitter of the zark that had ridden motionless and without voice until now. Its scaled body pressed against her cheek as its head shot forward.
Within… did what she seek lie within? She was upon the one-step platform, working the bag of crystals out of hiding. Their heat was building; what she sought must be very near. But—not inside… Up—up—not forward.
She jerked at the cloak’s cowl and looked up. There—from the mouth of that grotesque mask there was a glimmer which could not be mistaken. But how to reach it…
“What is it?”
Kryn had stepped a little to one side and now was eyeing her with something close to suspicion.
“What I seek… it lies within the mouth of that!” She gestured to the mask.
As if to make sure that he understood that gleam above strengthened. Surely he could see it, and, by his frown, he did. But how could she reach it?
It depended on how firmly it was set within that hold, and the containing factors must be strong that it had remained so carefully hidden for so long. It might have been even plastered within—though she doubted that because of the brightness it displayed now.
She glanced back along the cluttered alley. At first sight she could see nothing which could serve as a ladder. If she could find a pole, prod into that mouth to judge how hard set it was…
She felt the scrape of scales against her chin as the zark’s head went into the open, turned up as if it knew just what she would do here. Kryn turned swiftly and went back down the alley—he would have nothing to do with a thing of power—that she knew. But she was not going to leave this place until what rested in that mask’s mouth found its way into her hand.
However, she had mistaken what Kryn would do; he came tramping back, holding a splintered-end length of pole.
As he joined her the zark freed itself entirely and leaped for the pillar supporting the pediment which held the mask, showing the same speed for climbing as it did in its racing leaps. It clung with one forefoot and both back as, with the other forelimb, it poked into the mouth of the head.
Then it turned its head and looked down to Nosh, its chitter loud and demanding.
“Call it away!” Kryn ordered. “Let’s see if what you seek can be loosed by prodding….”
Nosh raised her hand and waved at the zark, one part of her thoughts astounded by the creature’s actions. It was proceeding as if it knew exactly what was needed. She had never put Tarm or Wasin to any such test— perhaps the zarks were far more than her species rated them.
Now she sounded the imperative chitter to attract the lizard’s full attention and then waved again. To her joy it edged sideways from its hold, but still clung, as Kryn raised the pole and with the shattered tip explored the crevice of the mouth.
He was exerting strength now. And the pole bent a little. Then he gave the butt he held a blow of his right fist. The pole curved, broke. But the zark was already back at its first place, groping within. And then there was a gem-bright flash, seeming, for a moment, to illuminate the whole of that dismal alley, while on her breast the other Fingers answered with a heightening heat.
The zark held it so for only a moment, then it gave a cry as if in pain and let its find fall. It was Kryn who moved with a fighter’s speed and caught the trophy out of the air before it could touch the pavement. He held it for a moment, looking at it with an odd expression and then held it out to Nosh.
“Power again. You garner it in but how will you use it?”
“I do not know,” she said truthfully. “It is my task to find and guard. For your aid I am truly grateful, the more so as you turn yourself from such things.”
“Such things,” he snapped with a trace of anger, “are not for men—or women. To hold such power would tempt anyone to use it for gain—and against it there is very little defense. How WILL you use it, Dreamer, reader of stones?”
“Not for ill.” Her own irritation brought that statement swiftly to her lips. “Lyr is not of the dark.” She paused for a moment and then added, “Lord Kryn, you hold such in abhorrence, but the hour will come when you may reach out your hand, even as you did to catch this thing of Lyr’s, to draw to you something greater and more dangerous even than your sword, mighty though you hold that to be.”
His frown grew darker but he did not answer her. Nosh turned to call the zark, who leaped easily for her shoulder and worked its way quickly into hiding in her hood.
The day had been overcast and here in this alley there was a shadowing close to dusk. There was beginning a fine drizzle of rain, which slicked the pavement even more so that they went at a slower pace, making sure of their footing as they took each step.
They had not quite reached the street beyond when Nosh gave a half-choked cry and wilted to the slimed stone. Kryn’s hand fitted to his sword hilt but he did not have time to draw it. The blast of strange, choking particles in the air brought him as quickly down and helpless. Nor could he understand what or who had attacked. And as he went into mind darkness he still struggled to loose his weapon.
Nosh first became aware of a faint noise her mind sluggishly connected with the zark. She breathed, choked again, and then that stinging in her nostrils was gone, instead she was drawing into laboring lungs air which had fresh, clean scent. She tried to move and found out that her own cloak had been used to enwrap her past any chance of freedom. But she could open her eyes.
The zark was patting her face with both forefeet, its chittering clearly a sound of concern—fear. When her eyes met its small ones it braced itself back on its tail as one might sit on a stool, its forefeet fluttering as if it endeavored to convey some message.
She realized that she was not in the open. What or whoever had brought her down had
not left her in that alley. Kryn! Was he also trussed nearby, a fellow prisoner?
Nosh looked beyond the zark’s head. There was a wall there, and draped across it strips of shining cloth, woven loosely back and forth. When she stared straight up she found herself regarding a ceiling across which were massive beams. Now she looked to the right. Another wall, but on this was a picture painted in glaring colors—weirdly shaped flowers—if those blobs were intended to be flowers.
Wherever she now was it was not the establishment of Master Danus—the little she could see being wholly alien to the conventional fittings of that house. Nosh tried to lift her head and found that the folds of the cape tightened across her throat warningly.
The Fingers! Her hands were too tightly bound for her to reach for them but at her thought there had been a warming. So those had not been taken from her. But why was she prey to any in Kasgar?
“Ah, you have joined us again, Lady.” The voice was soft, gentle, and, Nosh instantly felt, deadly. She looked straight up at the man standing over her.
He wore a long-sleeved robe of deep purple, confined at the waist with a girdle set with stones, finely cut to glitter at his every movement. He had a narrow face, framed in a bush of hair which was near to the color of flames. Eyebrows of the same shade jutted out over eyes of a green as brilliant as a sea stone. His nose was long and a little crooked as if it had been broken in the past and not carefully mended. His mouth was curved in what might be a smile, until you saw what was mirrored in those eyes.
Now he stooped a little and reached down, his hand, with its bone thin fingers, closing on the mass of her cloak. And with no appearance of exertion he lifted her up, transferring her swiftly to a chair, but making no move to free her. The zark chittered and streaked up from the floor to its half-hidden perch on her shoulder.
She could see much of the room now. The furniture was very plain, lacking all the carvings which graced those in Danus’s home, and it appeared to be made of a material like a well-burnished metal, dull red in color. While the floor was patched with squares of fur— wakwolf hides, she thought.
“You have questions, of course.” He had seated himself in another chair facing her. “Always there are questions.” One of his hands made a small fluttering motion as if he were waving the unwanted from his path. “You are at liberty to ask them. I shall, of course, answer what is necessary and that is very little.”
“Who are you?” She found her tongue. This man was unlike any she had ever met. Was he a mage—he had about him such an air of consequence and power that she could come to believe even that.
“Who am I? Now that is indeed a question. You see, I am different things to different people. To you I intend to be an employer.”
“And how will I serve you?” She kept her voice level, feeling that she must show no weakness to this man.
“As you have served others, my Lady, with those very useful hands of yours. Part of my desires are gems—I have a trained eye to shift true from false. However, I understand your gift goes even farther—you can read the past—or even projections of the present with your talent. I have many eyes and ears within Kasgar. I am very well served, as you shall discover. And some of your feats have been reported to me.”
He leaned back in his chair and put the fingertips of both hands together, regarding her over them with that subtle, unpleasant smile.
“A man in my particular position has enemies—they stick as fleas to a beggar, if you will excuse such a coarse comparison. Some of these have particular twists of thought; they are not to be dismissed too lightly. Thus I need a guard—you!” That last word came out with the force of a blow.
“And if I do not choose this service?” Nosh asked evenly. She felt the stir of fear as if she were reaching for one of the evil-splotched gems.
“Oh, I think you will. Have you not been serving Danus in the same general fashion? Too well to suit some members of his household. I have them to thank for your presence here and you need have no thought of any rescue from that quarter. After all, what I am asking of you is a matter of the light—not the dark—I merely want to protect myself and my organization. You will find me a generous employer, I assure you. Ask of me anything within reason and it shall be yours.”
“Let me go!”
His smile grew broader. “I said within reason, Alnosha. That request is not reasonable for me.”
“Kryn—what have you done with Kryn?” She decided to attack on another path.
“Your young guard? Well, he is also under this roof at present, and in not very pleasant quarters. But his situation may depend upon your willingness to do as I wish. Though he interests me—he may yet prove to be a luck stone I can play in my private game.”
Kryn had been drawn into this net because of her. Nosh accepted that and at the present it might be very well to agree to what this man wanted, insuring that both she and Kryn have a chance.
“You want a bond swearing?” she asked. “I cannot do so since I am still bond to Danus.”
He waved a hand. “My needs outweigh those of that little man. You have already served him and he must be content with that. No, Danus will learn nothing save you and one of his outland guards disappeared—for all he knows you have taken the trail back to that raggle-taggle of outlaws at Dast. If necessary, there will be those ready to swear you departed so. What I will within Kasgar becomes at once so. Now—surely you want to be free of body and brought into company as becomes a talented one. Will you serve me?”
“You say,” Nosh observed, “that I have a choice. It seems to me to be a very limited one. Thus I am forced into your path, lord.” She gave him the honorific as certainly his presence suggested that he was of high rank— though she knew very little of the castes of Kasgar.
Now he leaned forward a fraction, his gaze holding hers as if that meeting of eye to eye was another bond he laid upon her.
“Swear,” he said, “on the Hands of Lyr!”
What did this one know of the Hands? At least she had not been plundered of the Fingers since their warmth had been with her through all this interview.
“By the Hands,” she agreed slowly. “But you are no follower of HER.”
“True. There are many different Powers that be, and each man oaths by the one which he believes in. And since it pleased you to seek out Her forgotten and dishonored shrine this day, it would seem that you believe you owe Her obedience. Though surely all power has departed from that place long since.”
The Finger! Then those who had captured them had not seen—surely they must have come too late!
Nosh summoned up all her courage: “By which do you swear, lord? This oath must not stand alone but your word joined to mine.”
He gave a little laugh. “Well put indeed, One of Lyr. Very well. I will oath also that you be well received in this house by your bonding. Also, if you wish it, your guard will not be harmed. After all, he is about a task of his own which interests me greatly.”
“Now…” He stood up and came to her, going around to her back where she could feel a fumbling through her cloak. Those tight swathes which had held her captive loosened and she could move freely.
Her new employer turned to the wall and pulled one of the tags of fabric woven there. In the distance she heard the sound of a bell.
As he returned to his chair he spoke again: “The zark. You bear it free of any caging. It is a thing of poison and if you cannot control it, it must die.”
“I can control it,” Nosh returned quickly. “It will not attack here.”
“Of course, it did not when it awoke,” the man conceded, “and I have a liking for the strange. Maybe that can be put to service also, we shall see.”
The wall behind him opened to form a narrow doorway and a tall woman came into the room. She bowed her head to the man and then looked at Nosh. There was no surprise in her expression; she might have been any gearwoman or maid waiting for orders.
“Sahsan, this is the Lady Alnosha. She i
s to be quartered in the inner rooms.”
The woman said nothing, only beckoned to Nosh, who arose, feeling giddy for a moment so she had to catch at the tall back of her chair to steady herself.
Once more the man’s smile became more pronounced. “I am distressed, Alnosha. The Take-dust often has a lingering effect on those who inhale it. But Sahsan will see that you have the proper drink to allay such minor discomforts.”
Nosh still kept her grip on the chair though that momentary giddiness was now past.
“Since I am to serve in this house, what is the name of the master?”
He nodded. “Yes, I am forgetting the proprieties. I have several names, you see, and which one I use depends upon whom I seek. But you can call me Markus. Ah, you have heard that name before?”
There must have been some small change in her expression which had triggered that question.
“I heard of a Lord Markus who was a collector of gems,” she returned.
“You have heard aright. As Markus I am a collector of gems—as you shall very soon see. But there is time for that. Meanwhile you shall be my guest.”
The woman reached out and laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. She was tall, taller than many of the men Nosh had seen. And she wore leather as might a trusted bodyguard, with a long, sheathed knife at her belt. Her hair had been cropped to a thickish cap and there were blue lines of a pattern crossing her forehead, swelling down over her cheekbones. She must also be a foreigner in Kasgar, Nosh decided.
She yielded to that touch on her shoulder and followed the woman through the door, which slipped shut with a loud click behind her.
They were in a narrow hall running between two walls in which there were no breaks of doors or windows and which ended in a steep flight of stairs. These they climbed past two doored landings, until at the top Sahsan swung to the right and clapped her hand, palm flat, against the wall—a wall in which Nosh could see no line of doorway. But there was one, low so that her guide had to bend head to go through, though Nosh found it of comfortable height.
