Empire of the East Trilogy

by Fred Saberhagen

  Having seen Catherine back to the foot of the stair, Rolf returned to the room where Chup and Loford waited. There he passed on to them the information that the girl had given. Now in the dust of the floor they could sketch the layout of the rooms in both Charmian’s and the Constable’s apartments, and the usual position of the jewel-box in the former. There were other matters to be thought about as well, what soldiers and servants were likely to be where, and how doors were fastened and windows barred. There were a few more questions to be asked of Catherine next time Rolf met with her.

  “And one more thing,” Chup added. “Do you really mean to bring the girl away with us?”

  “We will bring her back to the patrol,” said Rolf after a moment. “After that it will be up to Mewick.”

  Chup nodded slowly. “But if we do not get her clean away, we cannot leave her able to answer questions.”

  Loford was standing by gloomily, with nothing to say for the moment. Rolf hesitated, but only briefly. “Agreed,” he murmured with a nod.

  After a moment Chup went on: “Speaking of ladies likely to be thought superfluous, there is the matter of my bride.” He fell silent for a little while, staring moodily out the window. Somehow it did not seem to him prohibitively strange to still call Charmian his bride. “I find I do not care if we leave her alive or dead.”

  The others made no response to that. He felt he could not leave it at that. “Well, I know this is war and not a personal matter... I just mean that I will kill her if it seems the best move to make, though I feel no urge to do so.”

  Still the others remained silent. He himself wondered why he was going on like this about her. Was he making the point that she meant nothing to him one way or the other, or only raising doubts about it?

  He had no doubt that she hated him now, that horrible things would happen to him if he ever fell into her power. Well, she was like that. For a time he had hated her, too. Now she was no more important than some poisonous insect, to be avoided or, if the opportunity came, squashed flat.

  Rolf and Loford were looking off into space in separate directions, doubtless waiting to make sure that Chup had finished what was for him a lengthy speech.

  Loford said at last: “I am glad that your feelings are not involved here.” And Rolf: “We will not go out of our way to kill her, then, if she is not at hand when we take the jewel. Of course, if she should get a look at us, it will be better if we do not leave her able to answer questions.”

  “Of course,” said Chup at once. But still he frowned. It was odd. He could picture himself killing Charmian, or almost anyone else. But he could not picture in his mind how she would look when she was dead. Yes, it was odd.

  They went back to refining. From all that Catherine had told them, three expertly violent men with the advantage of surprise should be able to get into Charmian’s apartment, dispose of the immediate resistance, and get the gem into their hands. When it came to getting away, though, difficulties multiplied.

  Chup wished aloud: “If only this girl Catherine could steal the gem for us, bring it out to us.”

  Loford shook his head. “From what Rolf tells us, there’s not a chance of her getting into the treasure box. Charmian’s not one to be at all careless with her valuables.”

  They talked it over, assuming themselves inside the apartment, the jewel in their possession. Now there were poundings on the single door, demands to know what was going on inside.

  Chup: “Maybe no one will notice a few screams and a little commotion. That kind of thing’s no novelty in my Lady’s rooms.”

  “But suppose they do?”

  “Then... I wonder if the Constable truly dotes on her? I wonder if she could serve us as a hostage?”

  That idea and others were debated. The discussion went on far into the night, when it was set aside for rest. The three men took turns at watching throughout the remainder of the night.

  Shortly before dawn, Loford strolled outside as if to stretch some stiffness from his limbs. There, as pre-arranged with Mewick, he spelled out the essentials of the plan they had decided on, using gestures natural to a man who had waked up with some aching joints. They meant to be coming out from the rooftop tomorrow night, with the gem in their possession. He hoped that his gestures were being watched by one of the great birds, circling on hushed wings well above the walls. If they were lucky, a bird or two had been able to join Mewick’s patrol tonight.

  The remainder of the night passed uneventfully, and so did the greater portion of the following day. Late in the afternoon Catherine made what would be, if things went well, her final trip down to the well. This time Rolf did not meet her, but watched from the concealment of his room as she gave the unobtrusive signal meaning that nothing had arisen to require a change in plans or a final consultation. As expected, the Constable’s party showed no signs of leaving. They had been on the road for many days, and men and beasts alike were doubtless ready for a day of rest.

  Night fell, and in their little ground-floor room three merchants became Western warriors once more, removing extra weapons and equipment from their packs to be distributed about their persons, then covered with long travelers’ cloaks. Then there was nothing to do but hold final vigil at the window.

  Time dragged. Chup was just beginning to ask: “Are you sure that she will come—” when there she came, Catherine emerging from the dark mouth of the stair opposite, making her way across the ill-lit courtyard. She too had put on a long cloak, but her feet were still bare. Rolf hoped she was carrying at least a pair of sandals for the trip; there was no way to be sure when they would meet Mewick and the others and be able to ride.

  The plan called for her to come to them openly, as if she had been sent to the three merchants with a message.

  “Gentlemen, you are asked to come,” she said in a low voice when she had reached their open door.

  “Asked?” Rolf echoed. He was not sure for the moment whether Catherine was only playing her role, or whether Abner or Charmian actually wanted to see the “merchants” about something.

  “It is I who ask you,” she said with feeling, looking from one of them to the other. The hood of her cloak was thrown back, and her brown hair was looser than it had been. Her eye looked a little puffier, if anything, than yesterday.

  “We are ready for some bargaining, “said Rolf, and stepped forward to the doorway and took her gently by the elbow, both to reassure her and to keep her from turning thoughtlessly and starting back at once—the three merchants must take a little time to ask a question or two, gather their sample wares, see to their own appearance, before calling on such an eminent lady. Catherine’s arm had a, lifeless submissiveness in Rolf’s grip; it was a feeling that he had met before, on touching slaves, slaves who had had reason to take him for an Eastern master. It came to Rolf that in a sense this girl had now become his slave, his property, and there was a twinge of forbidden pleasure in the thought.

  The proper moments for delay soon passed, and the four of them set out across the courtyard, the three men unhurriedly walking ahead.

  “I could learn nothing more that will be helpful,” the girl whispered to Rolf, from her position close behind him.

  “All right.” He tried to sound calm and reassuring. “Do what I say, without hesitating. We will bring you out.”

  A moment more and they were ascending the stairs of the building in which Charmian and the Constable were lodged. As they passed the open doorway of a second-floor apartment, through which several junior officers of the East could be seen gaming around a table, Loford said, as though continuing a conversation: “...we can procure what your Lady wants, if we have it not in the goods we carry with us. We stand ready at any hour of the day or night to serve so illustrious...” He let his voice fade to a meaningless mumble as they passed the door and started up the next-to-final flight of stairs. The uppermost flight, and the doors and landing at its top, were still invisible. As they turned the corner and started up the final flight th
e expected sentry at the top came into view, looking down coldly at them.

  “Right up to the top, your honors, please,” said Catherine clearly from just behind Rolf, and could not keep the strain out of her voice. Behind the sentry were the two doors she had described to Rolf; the right one would lead to the Constable’s quarters, the left to the Lady Charmian’s. From behind the right door male voices could be heard, in low and serious talk, too muffled for words to be distinguishable.

  The sentry was Rolf’s to cope with, for Chup’s greater effectiveness with the sword might be needed to meet the unexpected at one door or the other, and Loford might be needed just as suddenly for magical action and was too clumsy in any case to be trusted with a knifing.

  On the topmost landing the men stood awkwardly, for it was not large, and the cold-eyed guard refused to give much ground. He was not truly suspicious yet. Catherine slid among the men to Charmian’s door, to tap and call softly. It seemed Charmian did not like even her maids to take her by surprise. Rolf stood rigidly waiting until he heard the bar lifted inside the door, then saw the door open a crack to frame the eye of another servant girl inside; he turned then, with unhurried smoothness that was practised but still not easy, not for him, brought a long dagger from under his cloak without any unnecessary flourishes, and pushed it up firmly beneath the sentry’s breastbone.

  The sound life made in going out was not loud, and was covered by the whimpering little cry of the surprised servant-girl as Chup pushed in the door she had unlocked, and pushed his way inside, Loford right on his heels. Rolf with his unarmed hand caught his falling victim around the waist, and half-carried, half-dragged the dying man along into the apartment. Catherine, still waiting at the door, pulled it shut and barred it once everyone was inside.

  Chup and Loford were not pausing, but strode on ahead of Rolf across the little dingy room, toward the one door on its farther side, their heavy soft treads shaking the floor slightly, setting muted jinglings sounding amid the feminine trappings hanging in an open portable wardrobe. The maidservant who had opened the door was still cowering on the floor where Chup had shoved her, paralyzed with shock and fright. Rolf let his murdered sentry down, showed the girl the bloody knife, whispered in her ear: “One squeak and we will cut your throat,” and pushed her into the big wardrobe amid the hanging garments, where she fell to the floor in what was almost silence. He flashed a look of reassurance to Catherine, still leaning on the barred door, and turned after Chup and Loford who were entering the other room.

  Some sound, or instinct, must have warned the Lady Charmian. When her husband and the men behind him came through the one door of her little bedchamber, she was standing as if waiting for them. She wore a long, soft lounging garment of some pink satiny stuff; her feet were bare on a soft, thick black rug that must have come to this place with her. The incredible golden cascade of her hair hung well below her waist. Rolf saw her eyes of melting blue, familiar as if he had last seen them only an hour before, go wide as she recognized Chup.

  “Silence gives life,” Chup told her briefly, and went past her to the strongbox, which was just where Catherine had said that it would be, standing on a low, crude chest just below the high window with its heavy bars. Chup flicked the side of the box with his swordpoint, once, hesitantly, felt the muted shock of guardian powers, and drew quickly back. Loford shouldered past him to bend over the box, mumbling. Chup moved to where he could watch Charmian and at the same time look back into the outer room of the apartment, where Catherine still waited with her back against the door. Rolf, standing in the doorway between the rooms, could see and feel the mutual hatred pass between her and Charmian.

  And now Charmian’s eyes, with a different look, reached for Rolf’s eyes, brushed them once, then fell away, very quickly and shyly. No, her eyes said, it was useless to try to beguile him. She had been too cruel to him long ago; and that was sad beyond bearing, because now, looking back, Charmian could see that he was the one man with whom she might have been happy.

  She said it all with that one glance, no matter that it was all impossible nonsense. The falsity of it was irrelevant while she was saying it.

  Loford had turned and was extending a massive hand toward the Lady Charmian. “The key,” he said, in almost courtly tones. The strongbox now looked a little larger, the shape of it was somewhat altered, since the wizard had bent over it.

  “You are but bandits, then,” Charmian said, while her hand made slow searching motions among the pockets of her robe, as if to find a key. “I warned my Lord the Constable to give more thought to such. Now perforce he will admit that I was right.” Rolf understood that she was bargaining for her life, telling them as well as she could in the hearing of the servant in the wardrobe, that they would not be named by her as Western soldiers if they would spare her life.

  She might be able to make almost anything believable. “I would that you were more than bandits,” she went on, speaking now to Chup, with eyes again as well as words. “I dreamt once that a man had come to carry me away, so that from that day on I would never have to serve another man but him. And in that dream—”

  “The key,” Chup grated in an ugly voice. “Or I will spoil your lying face.” Charmian knew him. She seemed to collapse before the threat, shrinking back against the wall.

  “The key is in the bedside table, “she said simply.

  Chup kept his eyes on her until Loford had gone to the chest with the key and come back holding up the dark round thing in its silver filigree. Rolf had never seen anything just like it before, but felt Ardneh’s certainty that it was the right thing. Rolf nodded, then added: “Don’t forget the rest.”

  They had discussed this point beforehand, too. If they were to be taken for bandits they must not leave a single jewel that they could carry away. Loford went to scoop up other wealth from the box, and stuff his pockets with it. The black jewel, meanwhile, he had tossed to Rolf, who put it into a small empty pouch that waited ready at his belt.

  There came a startling, though quiet, trying of the outer door, followed after a moment by a rattling and wrenching that made it thud against its hinges. An indistinct male voice called out, in what might have been anger or alarm. The absence of the sentry from the stair would certainly awaken Eastern vigilance.

  Chup’s eyes were still riveted on Charmian’s. In a low voice he demanded: “Is that the Constable?”

  She gave a little shiver, an involuntary movement that Rolf thought he had seen her make once before, when men were about to kill each other for her amusement. It seemed a joyous movement. She said: “It is his way; it sounds like him.”

  Rolf stepped quietly back to Catherine and took her by the arm. “Let me get in place behind the door,” he whispered. “Then open it and let him—” He broke off there, for outside at least one more heavy voice had joined the Constable’s, and the tramp of yet other feet was somewhere on the stair.

  Pulling Catherine by the arm, he hurried to the inner room again. There was only the one door, and the windows were narrow and heavily barred. It was well they had made alternate plans. Loford had his sword out and was digging an escape hole in the flimsy ceiling; in a moment Rolf was working at his side. Dried mud fell in his face, and lengths of reed and sapling began to dangle brokenly.

  The noise at the door turned into a determined assault. Chup said something that Rolf could not hear to Charmian. Charmian turned to the door and cried out loudly: “Stop! These men will kill me if you force your way in. Stop, they wish to bargain with you!”

  The banging and chopping ceased. “Bargain?” roared a man’s deep voice. “With what? Who are they, what do they want?”

  “They are bandits,” Charmian cried weakly. Glancing toward her, Rolf saw that she had retreated from Chup’s sword until her head was pressed against the wall, but the sword had advanced until it now poised rock-steady a centimeter from her face. Loss of beauty would be worse than loss of life to her.

  There was a pause outside, as
if of disbelief. “Well, wondrous stupid ones, so it would seem.” More feet now on the stair, a platoon gathering hurriedly; and overhead now, soft footsteps on the roof; it had not taken the Constable long to order his forces. Now he bellowed, with vast authority: “Ho, in there! The trap is shut on you; unbar this door!” Chup forced his erstwhile bride into the big wardrobe where one of her servant-girls was still cowering in silence. What he said to Charmian at parting Rolf could not hear, but she went in with quiet alacrity.

  Loford had ceased prying at the ceiling, and sheathed his sword, but stood still looking upward at the damage while he made the gestures of his magic art. Now he signed to Rolf to cease work also; Rolf did so. But by Loford’s art, the noises they had made when working went right on without a pause, the subdued splintering of light wood, the trickling falls of powdery fragments to the floor were heard, though the hole they had begun in the roof now got no bigger. Now Rolf attacked the floor with his dagger. He labored to pry up a board; Catherine dropped to her knees beside him and wrenched with strong sure hands as soon as he had raised one end enough for her to get a purchase on it. By the art of Loford, who worked on silently above them, the shriek of yielding nails was made to come from overhead.

  The Constable’s voice renewed its demands for entry.

  “Not so fast!” Chup roared back. “What’ll you give us for your woman’s life?” And he thumped with the flat of his sword on the wardrobe, from which the voice of Charmian hastily called out, serving to demonstrate that she was still alive.

  Rolf and Catherine by this time had one floorboard completely up. A quick look down through the gap assured him that the room below was deserted. The soldiers lodged in it would have been called to duty when the alarm broke out.

  The Constable’s overbearing voice called out some threat, and the battering at the door resumed, more violently than before. The renewed noise from the door, with that induced by magic overhead, effectively covered the ripping up of another board.