“Um?” Emmis had been lost in his own thoughts, and had to think a moment to realize what the Ashthasan was asking him. “Oh. No, I don’t think so.”
“He was from Ethshar.”
“Yes, but I don’t think he came back here.” If she didn’t know about the Calling, or thought it was reversible, he didn’t see any reason to explain it to her. It wasn’t any great secret in Ethshar, and if the news had never reached Ashthasa — well, in that case they clearly didn’t have any warlocks there, so she didn’t need to know.
But Emmis now had an idea what Lar’s secret mission might be. If the Empire of Vond had been created by a warlock, and that warlock was gone, maybe the ambassador was here looking for a new warlock. There were certainly plenty of them in the city, and any who had reached the nightmare threshold, the point when the Calling had started to trouble their dreams but had not yet affected them when they were awake, would probably be very interested in a trip to the southern edge of the World.
What did the empire need a warlock for, really?
Annis had apparently followed a similar line of reasoning, because at that point in his thoughts she said, “Do you think the Vondishman might be looking for another warlock?”
“I don’t know,” Emmis said. “He might be. Is there some important magic that they need done?”
Annis turned up both palms. “Who knows?” she said. “The Imperial Council does not exactly send bulletins to all its neighbors.”
One of the Lumethans asked her a question in Trader’s Tongue before Emmis could think of anything more to say. Annis replied, giving Emmis time to mull over his theory.
If the empire had sent Lar to fetch them a new warlock because Vond had been Called, they presumably had some use for a warlock. Their first, Vond himself, had apparently used his magic to conquer the seventeen kingdoms that now made up the empire named for him.
So did this mean they wanted a new warlock so they could expand the empire further? That was probably what Annis and the Lumethans would think; they were already worried about a new wave of Vondish conquest.
Emmis thought that if he were going to embark on a career of magical conquest, he wouldn’t use a warlock. Yes, the Calling meant that eventually he would go away and you would have the empire to yourself, but what happened if the Calling got to him in the middle of a battle? Your magical support might suddenly fly away on you, which would probably not do anything to increase your chances of living a long and happy life as emperor.
Witches weren’t powerful enough to be conquerors, and generally had fairly strict rules about what they would and wouldn’t do, in any case. Theurgists couldn’t do anything the gods considered evil, and while the gods’ standards sometimes seemed arbitrary, conquering other countries would almost certainly involve violating them. Demonologists — well, demonologists were scary. You couldn’t trust demonologists, or the demons they more or less controlled. A demonologist might decide that he’d make a better emperor without you, or one of the demons might decide you looked tasty. Scientists and herbalists and ritual dancers and all the other minor schools of magic — well, people considered them “minor” for a reason.
No, if Emmis were going to take up conquest, he would hire wizards. Wizards didn’t have to argue with gods or demons, they had all the magical power one could want, but the Wizards’ Guild wouldn’t let them be rulers themselves, so you didn’t need to worry about being deposed by your magicians. And if they got out of hand in some lesser way and the Guild wouldn’t intervene, you could cut off the supply of the ingredients they needed for their spells — a wizard without his bottles of dragon’s blood and boxes of mummified toads wasn’t any more of a threat than a witch.
Of course, the Guild might not allow them to take the job in the first place.
Emmis glanced around the room to see if there were any wizards around; he didn’t seriously intend to ask about Guild rules, but he was just wondering...
And there was Lar in the door, heading for the stairs. The hat was unmistakable.
Emmis got to his feet so quickly he almost knocked over his chair. “Time to go,” he said. “My money?”
Annis pushed over the remaining coins, and Emmis snatched them up before hurrying after his employer.
“Your excellency!” he called, shoving the coins into his purse.
Lar turned at the foot of the stairs. “Oh, there you are!” he said.
“I’ve been waiting here for some time,” Emmis said.
“Oh? I went out to see the city. I went to the market, and to the docks to see the ships. I’m sorry if you were worried.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Emmis said. “Just eager to get on with things. I found you a house to rent, over near Arena Street.”
Lar smiled, and started up the stairs. “Good,” he said over his shoulder. “And a meeting with the overlord?”
“Well, that’s a little more difficult,” Emmis said, following Lar up the stairs. “I have to go back tomorrow and talk to the guard at the palace again.”
Lar glanced back at him, and Emmis quickly added, “But I’m sure we’ll manage something.”
“I am the representative of an empire,” Lar said. “I know it isn’t much of an empire compared with the Hegemony of Ethshar, but still, it would be reasonable for the overlord to see me.”
“I know, I know!” Emmis said. “And he will, I’m sure. It just may take a while to arrange.”
“But you have a house?”
“Yes. We can move you in this afternoon, if you want, though of course you’ll have to pay a month’s rent first.”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t hire a wagon for your things because I thought you might want to see it first,” Emmis added. “I mean, you weren’t very specific in your instructions, so you may not find it suitable.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be reasonable,” Lar said.
“I’d be happier if you looked it over before bringing everything.”
“If you want.” They had reached the top floor, and the ambassador was reaching for the key on his belt.
“By the way,” Emmis said, glancing back down the stairs, “I thought you might want to know — there are some other foreigners here asking about you.”
Lar stopped, key in hand, and turned to look at Emmis. He cocked his head to one side, and his hat tipped, looking as if it was about to fall off.
“Are there?”
“Yes,” Emmis said. “I talked to them while I was waiting for you.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“That you are the Vondish ambassador, and you hired me to find you a house to rent.”
“You said nothing of warlocks?”
“What is there to say? You haven’t told me why you want to meet warlocks.”
“These foreigners — do you know where they are from?”
“Lumeth of the Towers and Ashthasa, they told me.”
“Ah. G’dye zas.” He turned his attention back to the door, sliding the key into the lock. A moment later he had it open and had stepped inside; he gestured for Emmis to follow him.
Emmis obeyed.
The ambassador looked up at him, then leaned back out the door, looked both ways, and closed it, gently but firmly. He tossed his hat on the bed, then turned back to Emmis.
“How much,” he asked, “are they paying you to spy on me?”
Chapter Five
Emmis didn’t bother pretending to be shocked. “A fair price,” he said. “Do you really need to know exactly?”
“If I am to match it, yes.”
“Why would you need to match it? You already hired me, and you’re paying me far more than they are.”
“You did not tell me about them to start the bidding?”
“No. I told you because it’s your business, and I work for you.”
Lar cocked his head to one side. “Then you won’t... I don’t know the words. Dargas ya timir?”
“You’re my employer,�
� Emmis said. “I’m working for you. I’m also letting them pay me for talking to them, because you didn’t tell me not to, and nothing you’ve told me seemed to be a secret. If there is something you want me to keep secret — well, you can always just not tell me, or we can agree on a price at the time. Some secrets I wouldn’t charge for; others, well, I hope you have plenty of silver. If you’re planning to assassinate the overlord, and you’re fool enough to tell me, I don’t think you could carry enough silver to keep me quiet. If you don’t want me to tell them what you ate for breakfast, well, I’ll throw that in for free.”
“And what if I want to know what they said?”
“Oh, I think that’s included in my salary.”
“Ah. Then tell me.”
Emmis did, as best he could recall.
Lar listened intently, then asked, “She thought Vond might be here, in Ethshar?”
“So it would seem.”
Lar did not immediately reply, but Emmis saw his expression and said, “Yes, I know that’s impossible. I’ve heard about the Calling.”
“Do you think the Lumethans really didn’t understand Ethsharitic?”
Emmis turned up a hand. “I never caught them out, but maybe they’re just good at hiding it. Does it matter?”
“Probably not.” Lar sighed. “What I would really like to do is to simply go and tell them the truth. The regent and the Imperial Council do not want to expand the empire any further, and my business here has nothing to do with Lumeth or Ashthasa.”
“Why not tell them?”
“Because they wouldn’t believe me. After all, if we were planning to conquer them, wouldn’t we say we weren’t?”
Emmis had never given the matter any thought, but now that Lar pointed it out, it was obvious. “Oh,” he said.
“You could tell them,” Lar said thoughtfully.
“Why would they believe me?”
“You’re their paid informant, aren’t you? They want to believe you.” Then he shook his head. “But you’re right, they wouldn’t. Not completely.”
For a moment the two men stood silently; then Lar turned up a palm. “Well, we’ll let that go for now. You may sell them any information they want, for now — I don’t think you know anything I want to keep secret. If that changes, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, you found me a house?”
“Yes. It’s just off Arena Street, between the Palace and the Wizards’ Quarter.”
“How far is that from here?”
“Ah... two miles, perhaps?”
“You know, I’m really not inclined to walk that far and back to inspect it. You found it reasonable?”
“Well... yes, I suppose. But I would really...”
“I trust you. We will need transportation for my belongings.”
“Yes,” Emmis said, hesitantly. He would have preferred that Lar not trust him quite that much, as he hadn’t really even looked inside the house. But he could hardly argue that Lar needed to have less faith in him when he had just confessed to selling information to his employer’s enemies — or if not actual enemies, at least people who had no reason to wish him well. “If you’re sure you don’t want to look at it first...”
“I’m sure.”
The next half-hour was spent making plans, and after that Emmis trotted up to Warehouse Street to hire a wagon, a team of oxen, and a driver. Lar had suggested hiring a flying carpet or some other magic, but Emmis had quoted a few prices that convinced him otherwise.
Of course, Emmis had made those prices up; he had no idea what a magician would charge, but he knew what teamsters charged for the use of a wagon, and he knew that nobody in Ethshar would ever hire a magician instead of a teamster for this sort of hauling. Lar might not have any great interest in keeping his presence a secret, and might be eager to meet magicians, but Emmis couldn’t believe he would want to make himself a laughingstock and a target for swindlers. Paying a wizard or warlock to move a few trunks would label him a rich idiot, and rich idiots inevitably attracted people eager to make them a little less rich.
When he rode the wagon down Commission Street, Emmis found Lar waiting outside the inn with his luggage and a dozen hirelings he had recruited in the Crooked Candle; loading the wagon took just a few moments with so large a crew helping. The driver, who ordinarily would have considered it part of his job to assist, barely had time to get down from his bench before all the baggage was being shoved over the sides; he decided he would do best to step aside and let the pot-boys, dockworkers, and serving wenches earn their copper bits. He stood back with Emmis, calling advice.
“Push it up to the end!”
“Not on top of that one, you’ll squash it!”
“Here, shove it under the bench.”
When everything was securely stowed and Lar was distributing the promised coins, the teamster climbed back to his place and looked down at Lar and Emmis.
“There’s room for one up here. The other will have to ride in back, on the load.”
Lar looked up from his dwindling handful of money at Emmis, who immediately said, “I’ll ride in back. He’s the boss here.”
“But you’re the one who knows where we’re going,” Lar pointed out.
“Well, yes,” Emmis said, “but I can give directions from the back.”
“Of course you can,” the driver agreed. “Up you go, then, sir, and the young man will ride in back. It’s comfortable enough, sitting on a trunk.”
Lar hesitated. “Will we be able to hire people to unload it when we get there?”
Emmis hesitated, and before he could reply the driver said, “Where are you going?”
“Arena Street,” Lar answered, one foot on the step up to the bench.
“Allston,” Emmis said. “On Through Street, just off Arena.”
“Ah.” The teamster scratched his beard. “Don’t know the neighborhood.”
Lar looked alarmed. “But you can take us there?”
“Oh, of course I can! I just don’t know who you’ll find looking for work there — Allston’s a chancy sort of place, different from one block to the next.”
“A... what?” Lar frowned. “I don’t know that word, ’chancy.’”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emmis said, vaulting up over the side. “We can unload it ourselves, if we need to.”
“Of course we can! Come on up, sir!” The driver reached out a hand.
Lar still did not look happy, but he took the proffered hand and clambered onto the bench.
Once he was securely seated, the teamster shook out the reins and called to the oxen, who began plodding forward. The wagon, which had settled into the street under the weight of its load, jerked free and began rolling up Commission Street.
Emmis watched the city roll by, casting frequent glances at the backs of his employer and the driver. In Shiphaven Market Lar seemed to flinch every few seconds as merchants waved their wares at him, or children scurried in front of the oxen, but there were no collisions or other misfortunes. The Vondishman’s hat wobbled so much he eventually took it off and held it on his lap.
When at last the wagon emerged onto Twixt Street, Lar turned and leaned over the back of the bench. He beckoned to Emmis.
“Yes, sir?” Emmis said, leaning close.
“Was there some reason you hired oxen, rather than horses? This trip will take hours!”
Emmis blinked in surprise. “About an hour, I’d say. Horses? Horses can pull wagons?”
Lar blinked back at him not merely in surprise, but in shock. “Of course they can!”
“They don’t here in Ethshar,” Emmis said.
“I can explain that, sir,” the driver said over his shoulder. “Couldn’t help overhearing.” He tapped at his ear.
Lar turned, listening.
“Horses are more expensive, take more care than an ox,” the teamster said. ““Can’t haul as heavy a load. And they don’t like the crowds and noise.”
“They
’re faster,” Lar said.
“Oh, yes, they are,” the driver agreed. “And that’s part of why they aren’t welcome inside the city walls. A horse can trample and kick and do all manner of damage if it’s upset, it can run away with a cart, where with a team of oxen — well, it doesn’t happen. You saw those kids in the market; if I were driving horses some of them might’ve been stepped on, or started the horses rearing. I’ve heard a few folks use horses for hauling outside the walls, where it’s quieter, but here in the city you won’t see them pulling a serious load. Rich folks ride them, of course, but that’s different, if they get thrown off it’s just their own bones that get broken, not anyone’s cargo, and you don’t have wagon wheels bouncing off the walls on either side of the street. And they use them to pull their fancy carriages, but that’s just for show.”
“But oxen are so slow — what if you’re hauling something a long way?”
“Well, if one’s in as much of a hurry as all that, I suppose you’d hire a magician, not a horse. You’d need a few rounds of gold, though. And really, what is there in Ethshar that you’d need to move as quickly as that? A good team of oxen will get you anywhere in the city between breakfast and supper — no, not supper, lunch. Southgate to the shipyards, Crookwall to the lighthouse, I’d wager there’s not a run that you couldn’t finish in three hours with a good team.”
Lar did not look convinced, but he turned forward again.
They made what Emmis considered good time, up Twixt Street and through Canal Square, where Lar seemed astonished by the sight of the New Canal, though Emmis couldn’t imagine why — surely they had canals in the Small Kingdoms!
The wagon had minor difficulties in negotiating the turn from Upper Canal Street onto Commerce Street, almost running over the flowers around the corner shrine in order to squeeze past a pair of arguing merchants, but otherwise the journey progressed without incident, the oxen plodding on peacefully through the crowds while the driver hummed quietly to himself and Lar stared at the buildings on either side, looking at the signboards and the window displays, hearing the cries of hawkers and the arguing of customers, smelling the hundred smells of the city — most prominently allspice, turmeric, smoke, seawater, and decay.
The Vondish Ambassador loe-10 Page 4
