And Maikej stalked off with his tail lashing, and several of his attaches close behind. His police escort hung back a moment, looking to Reswen. He sighed, and waved them after the ambassador.
Krruth came up quietly behind him, “A night down in the quiet rooms in the cellar might do him good,” he said.
Reswen shook his head. “A temptation.”
“Interfering with police work,” Thailh suggested as he came to stand with them. “Breach of the peace.”
“Being a pain in the tail,” Reswen said. “No, that’s not actionable yet, alas. Is there anything at all to show for all this but the cord?”
“A pawprint. But no way to tell whether it’s anything significant. “
“Take a cast of it,” Reswen said. “Look carefully for another, too. I’m for home.”
They looked at him in something like shock. “Not back to dinner?”
Reswen looked at them wryly. “Maybe there’s something to what Maikej was saying after all. Who was tailing us?”
Krruth and Thailh both looked innocently at one another, then at Reswen.
Reswen laughed at them. “Oh, come now. I know there were bets on when I would bite her neck, and how, and where. How anyone in the constabulary would have bet on it happening in Haven, I don’t know, but you can tell them they’ve lost their money. I like the beds there, but not that much. You two get back to work now, do what you can here, and then early to bed. That’s what I’m doing, for tomorrow is going to be a horrible day.”
They saluted him as he walked off. Reswen twitched his ears back.
“Tomorrow night?” he heard Krruth say softly as the two of them turned back to the strangled body and the crawling constables. “The play, and then—”
“You’re on,” said Thailh.
Reswen smiled sourly and went home.
But Reswen was surprised to find himself wrong about the next day. He went into the office expecting an angry summons from the Arpekh, but there was no runner waiting for him, and nothing of the sort happened all day. Reswen became mildly unsettled.
He turned instead toward other concerns as the day trailed towards its end, sending off a message to Laas asking for another date. Then he sent for the young constable Shilai. “It’s almost a day now since we locked our friend from the marketplace in the root cellar,” he said. “Any revelations?”
Shilai shook his head. “Nothing yet, sir. He’s doing a pretty fair imitation of a groundroot himself.”
Reswen leaned his head on one paw. “Someone must have threatened him with something that still seems worse than being starved to death by the police,” he mused. “Shilai, how long has it been since you did any undercover work?”
The young constable practically trembled with excitement. “Sir, I’ve had the training, but no one ever asked me to do any.”
“That may be to your advantage,” Reswen said, “since no one will know you.... Do this for me. My compliments to your section commander, and tell him that I’m relieving you of your usual duties for a few days. I want you to do some small-selling in the market, with a pushcart or a tray, starting tomorrow. You might go into scents, possibly. There are enough apothecaries and others working out of home who come to the market on a sporadic basis, and you shouldn’t have any trouble passing for such. Check with the quartermaster; he has to order these things every now and then, and can put you onto a discreet source. Once you have what you need, get busy selling, and move around the market, and listen. I want to hear anything about the riot that you hear. Report to me once daily, but don’t come here to do it. The intelligence officer downstairs will tell you how to set up a drop or a meeting with one of the other undercover people.”
“Yes, sir!” .
“You trained with Krruth,” Reswen said. “I don’t want you to drop a word you hear, understand? I want to know everything you can pick up. Can you do that?”
“Sir,” Shilai said, earnest, “try me.”
“I will. And if you mess this up, you’re going in the root cellar to keep the other vegetables company.” Shilai grinned a little. “Now get out of here.”
The youngster got, and Reswen had to smile a little at the sight of him, full of the excitement of dressing up and doing something mysterious and important. “Runner, please,” he said to the open door, which Shilai had left ajar in his hurry.
A runner poked his head in. “Go find Investigator Thailh for me, if you’d be so kind,” Reswen said, “and tell him I want to see him as soon as he’s free.”
“Yes, sir,” said the runner, and no sooner was he gone than another one put his head in.
“Well, what message?” Reswen said.
“Sir, the lady Laas wasn’t there, and the mrem I spoke to said she was out and wouldn’t be back till late tonight. Should I take back some other message and leave it for her?”
And read it on the way, more than likely, Reswen thought, wry. “Don’t bother,” he said, and started going through the paperwork on his desk. It was turning into a shocking pile. “No, wait,” he added then. “Go over to Underhouse and tell Krruth that I would like his report on the movements of the Easterners over the past couple of days. I also want to know what’s going on over at the Lloahairi Embassy.”
The runner nodded and was gone. Reswen sat there, staring at the papers and tablets, but not really seeing them. He was seeing the golden eyes across the table from him, and hearing that soft voice say, a little angrily, Has it occurred to you that perhaps I would like not to— He folded his paws together, put his head on them. Not to what? And then later , You didn’t have to do what you did, I wasn’t ‘working’ on you— It certainly implied that, as Reswen had thought, the talent was controllable; it wasn’t just a matter of whomever a charismatic looked at, simply falling in love with her. There was intent, and lack of it would tum the enchantment off. But the words also seemed to imply that Laas might possibly wish that she was rid of the talent. Why, though? Reswen thought. He had seen enough people who would have killed for power, had killed for power, sometimes very mediocre kinds compared to this. Wanting to give up such an incredible advantage over people hardly made sense—
He fingered the charm Lorin had given him. He had nothing but Lorin’s word, and incidentally Laas’s, that it was working. Certainly he was not head over heels with her, not doting, the way other mrem had been with Deshahl. But he couldn’t shake that memory of her with folded arms, that first night, and the calm voice: Subtlety was never her style.... Was it Lass’s? Was he being used after all?
There was only one way to find out, but he couldn’t do it tonight....
Later the runner came in with the report from Krruth. It was quite specific, quite dry. Reswen ran down it quickly, seeing nothing particularly surprising about any of it. The various priests had been touring the town, seeing the temples; they had been to the market and the shops several times now, buying such things as tourists might buy ... wools, local delicacies, and so forth. They had also been shopping pretty aggressively for local meat and produce, and wines, since they had started holding receptions for the local merchantry, to make connections with the wholesalers and show off their wares. The chief merchant Rirhath, had been heavily involved for a couple of days now with setting up these receptions and researching whom to invite, and had hardly left Haven except to go confer with the herald Tehenn about the town’s notables and their businesses. Tehenn, with his usual courtesy, had let the constabulary know that he was being given handsome presents for this service, but that he had not been asked by the Easterner to do anything out of the ordinary. Krruth noted as well, in an aside, that there were no indications that Tehenn had been bribed by any of the town merchants to give them an unfair advantage with the Easterners. “That is,” he said, “they have tried to bribe him, but he has refused.”
Meanwhile the lady Kirshaet had been attempting to amuse herself by attending th
e theater, the public sessions of the Arpekh, and doing other culturally oriented things, “possibly,” Krruth noted, “to annoy her husband, who detests everything about being here except the business.”
She had found the theater substandard and the state of art and entertainment in the city “provincial.” Nevertheless she continued going out, in an attempt to find something worthy of her attentions, and made enemies wherever she went. This morning she had attempted to have a jeweler flogged in the marketplace for not displaying clearly marked prices on his wares. Easterners, Reswen thought in annoyance; it was a problem with them that they expected flat rates on everything sold retail, and were ignorant of the finer points of bargaining. The report indicated money spent in the market, among other things, and Reswen noted that they were being marvelously overcharged for almost everything because they did not think to question the prices. He shrugged his tail. If they won’t take the time to find out the customs of a place they want to trade with, they’re going to have to find out the hard way....
But Kirshaet was hardly his major concern, nor her children, who had been continuing their effort to wreck the rooms given them. Reswen was much tempted to bill their parents for the torn tapestries and the damage to the plumbing, which they had gone to great pains to stop up. But thoughts of the Arpekh’s comments restrained him. Deshahl, now— She had been out and about today: lunch with Bachua, a merchant in the wool trade. Laas, meanwhile, had been discreetly followed to the corn-factors’ guildhall, and after that, to lunch with about twelve of them. “The merchants seem uncommonly taken with both these ladies,” Krruth’s report commented dryly, “as indeed is almost every other male mrem in the area; and the lady Deshahl in particular....” She’s my cover, the laughing voice insisted. But what Reswen found himself paying more attention to was the laughter....
I must find out who she’s reporting to, somehow, Reswen thought, and turned to the next report.
It was sparse. Since the Lloahairi ambassador had formally requested that the police withdraw their presence from around the embassy, that was what they had seemed to do, but Reswen had had no intention of leaving the matter there. The street-sweepers on the Old Wall Road had been replaced by plainclothed policemrem, and a servant who had fallen ill was replaced with a scullerymrem who was one of Reswen’s best undercover operatives. Though, Reswen thought, Thabe is probably going to want overtime for having to scrub pots. Well, she’ll get it. I need to know what’s going on in there. So far his agents had nothing significant to tell, and he was not surprised. Not even Reswen’s best people could produce results instantly. What did disturb him was that there had been no answer to the note he had sent to the Lloahairi first thing that morning, requesting interviews with the embassy staff regarding Shalav’s actions in the hours before her death. What’s the matter with Maikej? One minute he’s howling for blood, the next minute, nothing—
One of the runners Reswen had sent out poked his head in Reswen’s office door. “Sir,” he said, “Investigator Thailh is with one of the Lords Arpekh at the moment. He sent to say he doesn’t know when they’ll be done.”
Reswen’s ears went forward. What are they doing consulting my people directly, instead of through me? “Which lord is it?”
“Mraal, sir.”
“All right. Thank you.” The runner went off, leaving Reswen feeling uneasy indeed, but there was nothing else he could do today, not without some agreement from the Lloahairi or some word from the Arpekh. Oh, well, he thought, getting up to go home, things will straighten themselves out tomorrow—
He found out otherwise.
The messenger came for him, not at the office the next morning, but at his house, when he was barely off his couch, still grooming himself, and had put no more down him as yet than a beaker of hot herbmix. “The Lords Arpekh summon you, sir,” the runner said, and stood there politely but pointedly waiting at the door.
“I’ll be right along,” Reswen said irritably.
“Sorry, sir, but I was told to wait and bring you,” said the runner. Reswen growled softly under his breath, threw his good uniform kit on, and went out.
The atmosphere in the Arpekh’s meeting room was unfriendly, to put it mildly. When Reswen came in and saluted, the Lords Arpekh looked at him with an uncomfortable assortment of expressions ranging from resignation to annoyance to embarrassment to outrage and anger. That it was Mraal who looked angriest bothered Reswen; he was usually the most even-tempered of the lot.
“Reswen-vassheh;” he said, too formally for Reswen’s liking, “we have been receiving some complaints about you.”
Reswen restrained himself from saying what he thought of the source, and merely assumed a look of extreme receptivity. “Lord Arpakh, if you will describe the complaints to me, I will do my best to satisfy you regarding the problems involved and what actions are being taken.”
Mraal blinked a little. That was apparently not the reaction he had been expecting. He harrumphed a little, trying to recover his stern and angry mien. “I spent most of yesterday morning,” he said, “with the honorable Maikej, who has replaced the late and much-lamented Shalav as Ambassador to Niau from Lloahai—”
“And is the honorable Maikej ready to assist the constabulary with inquiries about the late Shalav’s death?” said Reswen. “I sent him a note inquiring about that yesterday morning, but received no response.”
“You received no response because he does not desire you to conduct the inquiry,” said Mraal.
Reswen allowed himself an astonished smile. “Lords, whom are you suggesting should conduct it if not the constabulary?”
“Investigator Thailh has been—”
“The investigator is on the constabulary staff,” Reswen said, “unless someone has moved him to the Department of Public Works overnight.”
“Reswen,” said Mraal, and the anger was not being concealed now, “the Lords Arpekh are requesting that you keep well away from this investigation. It is in the hands of the officer to whom you yourself gave it. With the murder of Shalav, it has become a very sensitive matter—”
“Since when have I not been trusted with sensitive material?” Reswen said. “Lords.”
“Since you insulted the new Lloahairi Ambassador, and practically caused a war by yourself with your rudeness—” Aratel said. “There have been changes of extraordinary delicacy in the government of Lloahai, and until we have the matter well in hand, we don’t want some crude young fire-eater making matters any worse—!”
Reswen kept quiet. Kanesh looked up at him sympathetically from across the room, and said, “It seems that the new government has had most of the old one executed—”
“Kanesh, that is a gross misstatement,” Mraal said. “There has been an uprising, a change of personnel among the Council of Lloahai. Unfortunately there was some regrettable violence, and most of the old seats have been—”
“I understand,” Reswen said. “And there have been policy changes. All our treaties with the Lloahairi are going to have to be renegotiated. And since this changeover in the council occurred with, as you say, violence, we may assume that most of the changes are going to be hostile, or at least difficult for us to deal with and unpleasant to accept. Cuts in trade, I would imagine ... less capital moving out of Lloahai into places like, say, Niau. Our intelligence had been hinting for some time that the new coalition moving into power in Lloahai was extremely isolationist. Naturally the new ambassador would welcome the discrediting of your primary source of intelligence. Your primary non-Lloahairi source, I should say.”
There was a silence, during which the Lords looked at one another uneasily. “Your intelligence—gathering has always been superior, Reswen-vassheh,” said Mraal, “but of late, some of your behavior has been very questionable. Calling out the city cohorts twice in one eightday without consulting the council—”
“Of the first time, Lord, we have already spoken, an
d the second time there would have been no need to call them out if the Lords Arpekh had not themselves dismissed the cohorts before it was clear whether they were needed on the walls any longer. Had one of my staff on scouting duty not discovered them coming, the Lloahairi would have arrived unexpected and unannounced, and would have walked up to our walls and found them unmanned.”
“As if it matters,” Aiewi muttered. “Easy enough to send someone to open a gate when you see there are people outside——”
“Lord Aiewi,” Reswen said, very gently, as if to an idiot, “which city would you rather think about invading? One with walls full of soldiers pointing spears and arrows at you, or one where you can walk right up to the gates and knock before anyone notices you want to come in? Our relationship with Lloahai has not always been peaceful. It has been a lot more peaceful since we warred them down, all those years ago, and now we greet them with spears every time they arrive. Spears held at attention, but spears nonetheless. They have been very polite. I cannot help but think that there is a connection.”
Some of the lords pulled long faces at that. Kanesh stared at the floor with one paw to his mouth, hiding a smile, and not well. “In any case,” Mraal said, “the precaution we took with the Easterners turns out to have been unnecessary. They are of peaceful intent and are negotiating treaties with us that are very positive in terms of trade, and we intend to give them everything they ask for, one way or another—”
Reswen was shocked. He had seen the text of the main treaty: one of the “cleaning staff” in Haven had carefully copied for him the draft treaty left in Rirhath’s room. It was another of the things he had wanted to talk to the Arpekh about. But something more immediate was on his mind. “Lord,” he said, “about the stone and water—”
Exiled: Keeper of the City Page 17
