Warlords Of Gaikon rb-18

by Джеффри Лорд

  Eventually the job was done as well as it could be done. They sat in their tiny back room one evening, drinking the first jug of saga they had allowed themselves in weeks. A small charcoal stove burned in one corner, filling the air with pungent gray smoke and driving some of the chill out of the air. The year was wearing on. They would do well to strike soon.

  «We can't wait much longer, Blade,» said Lady Musura. «I know of a certainty that the Hongshu keeps spies within the quarter. Sooner or later it will be known in the palace that we have learned what we have learned. Then a trap will be laid for us, or for anyone else coming through. Assassins may even enter the quarter, striking us down when we think we are safe.»

  «I know,» said Blade. It was one of the classic problems in espionage. Ideally you should move as soon as possible after learning what you need, before the enemy learns that you have penetrated his secrets. But there are always practical problems.

  «Two people aren't going to be enough, unless Lord Geron's guards are all too drunk to keep any sort of watch. Even if we could overcome the guards, we might not be able to keep Lord Geron from escaping. It would be a gesture, nothing more. I don't want to waste what we've learned on a gesture.»

  «No more I,» said Lady Musura. «But where in the name of Kunkoi can we find-?» She broke off, and her eyes widened. «You think we should send word to the other dabuni?»

  Blade nodded. «I think we would owe it to them even if we did not need their help. Do you doubt that Yezjaro and Doifuzan have plans for avenging Lord Tsekuin's death on Lord Geron?»

  «None. But will they trust us or follow our lead or even listen to us?»

  «I wish I could be sure. But I think Yezjaro will at least listen to me until I have told him everything.»

  «Possibly. But where is Yezjaro?»

  «We will have to find him.»

  «That may take time, Blade. We may not have any more time.»

  «I know. But have we any other choice?»

  Chapter 19

  At first, it looked like finding Yezjaro would be like finding a single fish in the ocean. But Blade knew that the young instructor was too fond of wine, warmth, and women to drift away to some mountain warlord's castle. If he was still alive, he was likely to be close enough to Deyun so that they would hear of him sooner rather than later. But how much time did they have?

  The waiting became an ordeal. Blade knew that patience was essential in this game. But he also knew that if he spent much more time sitting in the cramped back room, he might take out his bad temper on Lady Musura.

  So he took to drifting through the taverns by day as well as by night. Within a week, he had drifted straight into what he was looking for.

  Two dabuni wandered into a tavern where Blade was sitting over saga and biscuits, ordered their own wine, and began to talk.

  «Poor stupid Kuras,» said one. «He wouldn't believe the 'Flying Bird Cut' could do all that Yezjaro said it could.»

  «No great blame there,» said the other. «Why should anyone take it on faith?»

  «He shouldn't, I agree. But to insult Yezjaro to his face was the act of a fool.»

  «Well, he paid for it. And not as heavily as he deserved, either. Yezjaro used a wooden sword, so Kuras will live even if he won't walk again.»

  Blade rose and went over to the two dabuni. «Excuse me, Honorable Dabuni, but are you speaking of Yezjaro, master of the 'Flying Bird Cut'?»

  One of the dabuni glared at Blade and started to answer him contemptuously, then noticed Blade's size and the two swords in his sash. His face straightened itself out and he replied more coolly, «Yes, I am. He stays now at our lord's house, near the city. What would you want with him?»

  «I would have you take a message to him,» said Blade. «If he will come to this tavern tomorrow night at the tenth hour, the man whom he would need ten minutes to defeat would speak with him.»

  «Is there such a man?» said the first dabuno, with a harsh laugh. «I cannot imagine it.»

  «Whether there is or not, I do not know,» said Blade politely. «But a man whom Yezjaro once described as such would like to speak to him.»

  «Must Yezjaro come alone?» said the second dabuno. His eyes were fixed on Blade, hard and skeptical.

  «That is as the Honorable Instructor wishes,» said Blade. It would be far better if Yezjaro did come alone. But mentioning that to these two men would probably make them suspect treachery. In any case, Yezjaro would be certain to recognize the message. There had been no one else within earshot the day he praised Blade's swordsmanship with those words.

  «Anything will be as the master wishes,» said the first dabuno. «Including your death, if this is a trap.»

  Blade bowed politely. He was still bowing politely as he backed out of the tavern, and he did not straighten up with a sigh of relief until he was out in the street. At least he had found his fish. That was a good beginning.

  Yezjaro appeared at the tavern at the appointed time the next evening. He came alone, as Blade had expected. The instructor might wonder who was asking for him, in spite of the message. But he was too proud and too self-confident to admit that there was any situation in which he might need help.

  That was not good sense. But there was a gallantry in it that Blade could not help admiring. Home dimension offered too few opportunities for it these days. The gallant were too often the first to die, the last to be recognized, and the ones most frequently laughed at.

  Yezjaro stalked into the tavern like a tiger on the prowl, light-footed and with one hand close to his sword hilt. He was thinner than he had been a few months ago, and there were dark circles under the deep-set eyes that searched the room from ceiling beams to floor mats. But his robe was as expensive and elegant as ever, his sandals were new, his scabbard polished until its blackness shimmered like metal.

  His eyes swung across the tables, reached Blade-and stopped. He blinked twice, and Blade saw his free hand clench tightly into a fist. Those few signs were enough for Blade. He knew he had been recognized.

  Blade threw a glance at the door and rose. Yezjaro nodded, turned, and preceded Blade out of the tavern. They stayed well apart as they moved down the noisy Street of the Pink Ape, until they reached a small alley behind a warehouse.

  There they stood and faced each other, shielded from prying eyes and ears. Yezjaro spoke first.

  «What words do you have for me, Blade? Have you found the Hongshu's service so uncongenial so soon?»

  «I have never been in the Hongshu's service, Yezjaro,» said Blade. His voice was cool but not hostile. If Yezjaro wanted to play a few games in order to reassure himself, so be it. «And this you should know well enough to have no need of asking me foolish questions.»

  «Are they foolish questions, Blade? Certainly your former comrades in the service of Lord Tsekuin have seen and heard little of you these past few months. You could have sprouted wings and a green tail for all we knew.»

  «Indeed?» said Blade. «I thought my departure from among you was your wish, not mine. I saw written on every face the clear message: 'Go away, Blade. The Hongshu has tempted you and we fear you must yield sooner or later.' Well, I have not yielded. I think I am farther along in my plans to avenge our foully betrayed lord than you people are in yours.»

  Yezjaro's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he rested his right hand with elaborate casualness on his sword hilt. «You think there are plans afoot among those who served Lord Tsekuin?»

  «My friend, I don't think so. I know it. If not, why keep me so much in the dark about what you dabuni were going to do? If you were all going to go off and set up cucumber farms in the Wishru Mountains, then Kunkoi knows you had no need to keep it a secret! In fact, you would have done well to tell everything to one you suspected might carry tales to the Hongshu. But you said nothing. You obviously feared the kind of tales I might bear.»

  Yezjaro seemed to be fighting to control his face. When he had won the struggle, he crossed his arms on his chest and frowned at B
lade.

  «Have you told the Hongshu anything of what you think of us?»

  Blade was tempted to smile sarcastically. But he decided it would be better to feign anger, or at least indignation. His voice hardened. «I have already said once that I do not serve the Hongshu. What my eyes see and my ears hear stops with me. It does not go onward to the Hongshu or any who serve him. This makes twice that you have accused me of lacking the honor of a dabuno who once served Lord Tsekuin. I will not answer your next accusation with words.» He shifted his own right hand to the hilt of his sword.

  A long silence fell down between the two men like a stone wall. Blade was tempted to step back, but knew Yezjaro might take that as preparation for an attack. He was also tempted to say something to prod Yezjaro into an answer, but decided against it. The instructor was no fool. As long as he could salvage his pride, he would find no trouble in reaching the correct decision.

  Finally the silence was broken. «So, Blade,» said Yezjaro. «What are your plans for a blow at the Hongshu's pet wolf?»

  «We have found a way into his cage, Lady Musura and I,» began Blade. He quickly sketched out what they had done and were planning to do. Yezjaro listened in frozen silence. Only his widening eyes and quickening breath showed that he was still living.

  «But the two of us cannot strike a blow that will go home,» Blade concluded. «There is no wisdom in throwing away our lives to make a mere gesture. Lord Geron must die. For that we thought it proper to call upon those who were once our comrades in the service of the lord we would all avenge. We trust in your honor, though you have not trusted in ours. We ask that your strength and skill be thrown into the battle beside us. If it can be so, then soon we will have Lord Geron's head to cast before the emperor as a lesson for unruly rulers and their servants.»

  Blade needed to catch his breath after that burst of rhetoric. But he did not take his eyes off Yezjaro, who once again stood silent and motionless. Both fists were clenched now, pale in the darkness.

  Blade decided that it was time for the grand gesture. He reached into the pouch that held the diamond and drew out a tightly folded piece of thin paper.

  «Honorable Instructor,» he said. «At much expense of time and risk of our lives, Lady Musura and I have learned all that we needed to make this. It is a map of the tunnels into the palace, especially to the house of Lord Geron. With it is all other information needed to enter the house and take Lord Geron's head.»

  Blade held out the map. Mechanically Yezjaro's hand rose to take it and close on it. The instructor's eyes met Blade's. Blade continued. «I ask nothing in return for this. Lady Musura and I trust in the honor of those who served Lord Tsekuin, that they will permit us to take our part in the avenging of his death upon Lord Geron.»

  «I understand,» said Yezjaro tonelessly. Blade would have liked to hear more from the instructor. But that seemed hopeless. Yezjaro looked half stunned and totally speechless. They could not afford to spend much more time out here, where unfriendly eyes and ears might pass by.

  «So be it,» said Blade. «This is not a matter I can ask you to decide here on the spot. But when a decision has come forth, let word be sent to the House of the Twelve Lanterns on the Street of the Silver Dragon. From there it will reach us swiftly, and we will know what to do after that.»

  He did not add how much he hoped the dabuni would admit him and Lady Musura to their plans. That would be showing a weakness. Instead, he turned away in silence, leaving the instructor standing in the darkness. But as he turned, Blade could not help wondering why he had become so deeply determined to have Lord Geron's head. That determination went far beyond what he might feel for simply getting rid of a dishonest or tyrannical ruler. Was he beginning to think according to Gaikon's standards of honor?

  Lady Musura was curled up on her sleeping mat in her corner of their dingy little back room by the time Blade returned. The stub of a single candle had almost burned out, leaving a haze of sour-smelling smoke in the room.

  Lady Musura awoke as Blade came in. She sat up and lit a second candle as he dropped his swords to the mats and began undressing in silence. Her eyes seemed to be glowing brightly with an unexpected inner light.

  «Yezjaro came?»

  «He did.»

  «You gave him the copy of the map?»

  «I did.»

  «Did he say anything?»

  «Very little.»

  «Nothing to show what he will decide?»

  «Not a word. I think he appreciates the trust we have shown in his honor. But if this will lead him along the right path! don't know. I don't even know when we will know.»

  «Well, then, there's no need for you to stand there grinding your teeth.» Lady Musura laughed. «Come and sit down beside me, Blade, and tell me tales of your travels. Do you realize how little we really know of each other, considering how much we have done together?»

  Blade dropped his robe to the floor and sat down in his breechclout. Lady Musura lay down again, resting her head on one raised hand. Her eyes, still with the strange light in them, roamed up and down Blade's massive body.

  For weeks now Blade had found it easy to think of Lady Musura as a woman, when he wanted to. But they had been working too hard for him to want to more than once or twice. Tonight-well, for the first time in many weeks matters were out of both their hands.

  Lady Musura's large eyes seemed to penetrate Blade's skin and read his thoughts. One slender arm crept out from tinder the quilt and a long-fingered hand began to trace patterns on Blade's bare thigh. He turned to look down at her. Those lips that he had once thought unappealingly thin creased in a smile. Blade bent down and touched those lips with his own. They flowered open, warm, wet, quivering. Then a small supple tongue crept out and flicked back and forth across Blade's own lips.

  Lady Musura's hands rose to creep around and caress the small of Blade's back. He thrust his own arms down, drawing Lady Musura up against his body. His hands slipped in under the robe she was wearing, caressing the warm, taut skin stretched over the supple muscles. Her gentle curves felt beautiful to Blade's exploring bands.

  His hands crept up from the slim waist to cup the small breasts and feel her nipples harden against his palms. He heard warm breath hissing in his ear. A hand crept from his back around to his stomach, then down into his groin. He became more aware than before of a swollen stiffness down there. Lady Musura's unexpected warmth and softness were drawing their response from him.

  Lady Musura twisted to one side, heaving the quilt off the mat onto the floor. Blade stood for a moment to throw off his breechclout, then knelt beside the woman as she quickly flung away her last garment and lay back. Her finely muscled legs drifted apart as Blade's hand stroked the patch of damp black hair between them. Her hands rose again and clutched at Blade's hair, pulling him down until his lips could circle first one nipple, then the other.

  But Blade's hands kept up their work while his lips did theirs. His hands alone were enough to bring the woman to her first peak. A quick shudder, a quicker twisting of the small neat head on its slender neck, a whimper and moan deep in her throat.

  The sight and sound pushed Blade's own desire even higher. He lifted himself on his hands, held himself there for a moment as Lady Musura shifted under him, then sank down, deep into her. He felt her warmth and wetness take him in, saw her eyes open wide at the feeling of him inside her, heard his own gasp.

  Then he was rising and falling deep within her, and Lady Musura was thrusting her hips up toward him to take him in and in and in. His groin became one hot, glorious, delicious agony, that he knew would explode in the next minute. But the next minute came and went, and the minute after that, and still more minutes, and the writhing bodies on the mat did not break apart, and the explosion did not come.

  When it did come, it came first in Lady Musura. Her fingernails sank deep into Blade's back, so that sharp pain penetrated even through the erotic daze that surrounded him. Her lips curled back from small white teeth,
and all the breath in her body came out in a series of great whooping gasps. Blade felt her pelvic muscles twisting and contracting like bands of steel, and her wet channel tightening wildly around him.

  Then his own explosion came, and for a little while he was unaware of anything around him. A dozen armed men might have entered the room, and he would not have been able to raise a finger-or even an eyebrow.

  But the frenzy passed, and he sank down on top of Lady Musura, still deep within her but supporting his weight on his elbows. Silence returned to the room, silence broken only by deep gasping breaths as they both tried to refill their starved lungs.

  Eventually Blade rolled off the woman and lay down on the mat beside her. Her warm limbs wrapped themselves around him again, but this time she was only making herself comfortable for sleep. The silence in the room deepened.

  Blade and Lady Musura found the lovemaking neither unexpected nor unwelcome. It deepened the bond between them and took away some of the tension of waiting for Yezjaro's reply.

  But the last of the tension did not disappear until that reply came, four days later. It came on a single sheet of paper, tightly folded, sealed with wax, and shoved under the door of their room.

  BLADE AND LADY MUSURA AT THE THIRD NIGHT HOUR OF THIS DAY NEXT WEEK, AT THE MIDDEN OF THE INN OF THE PERFUMED WIND ON THE STREET OF SAYA. WITH YOU WE SHALL BE TWENTY-NINE. VENGEANCE TO OUR LORD. DEATH TO LORD GERON.

  — YEZJARO

  Chapter 20

  The darkness around them was thick and silent. The heavy damp air caught and held a dozen different ghastly stenches from the garbage pit across the alley. Blade's black silk mask concealed his face from prying eyes, but it couldn't keep out the smell.

  No doubt that was why Yezjaro had picked this spot for the rendezvous. No one would voluntarily linger in this reeking alley, not even a Hongshu agent trying to sniff out treason. He would sniff out too many other things and depart in haste.