“It seems the calculation was subtle, indeed,” said Rurik.
“We note that Abrogastes was willing to take the risk,” said Julian, drily.
“With the life of another,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Brave Abrogastes,” said Titus Gelinus.
“Had he miscalculated, nothing of importance would be lost,” said Rurik, “only the life of a loathsome filch. It is easy to be brave in risking the loss of a penny, not so easy in risking the loss of a darin.”
“But what,” said Otto, “was the point of the calculation in the first place. What had Abrogastes in mind?”
“I do not know,” said Iaachus. “He did not say.”
“I suspect,” said Otto, “he had more data on hand than we, in his calculation of the odds, say, the likely interval between ingestion and death, and the availability and effectiveness of the antidote. I suspect that the poison was identified and its properties were investigated. Thus, we may suppose that he was very sure that Urta would survive. The question then is why? Why did he wish for Urta to survive and escape?”
“We do not know,” said Iaachus.
“But it is easy to speculate,” said Otto. “Had the assassination of Abrogastes taken place, conspirators might have proceeded in patient leisure. There would be time for Ingeld to assume the high seat of the Drisriaks, consolidate his power, and, his rule established, align the tribes of the Alemanni, and their allies, for, if needed, a many-pointed and massive attack on Telnaria. In the meantime, Sidonicus, and his minor ministrants, from the pulpits of a hundred temples, do their work, priming a gullible faithful for rising in the streets. They denounce an Otung on the imperial throne. They note with joy the supposed offspring of Princess Viviana, and thus the availability of a plausible heir to the throne. They note, as well, Ingeld, supposed father of the child, Ingeld, mighty amongst the feared Aatii, yet ready to save the empire, the throne, and senate, who will, when in power, decree their faith as the official faith of the empire. All that is necessary then is to remove the hated Otung from the throne. Then there will be love, peace, and harmony; then will wine flow, flowers bloom, ribbons and banners flutter, maidens dance and sing, and perfume be poured in the streets.”
“But Ingeld is not on the high seat of the Drisriaks,” said Rurik.
“Precisely,” said Otto. “And Abrogastes is inimical to the policies of the exarch.”
“An uprising then must be local to Telnar,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“But nonetheless formidable,” said Otto. “Consider thousands, wild in the streets, enflamed, armed with torches, clubs, knives, tools, and stones, burning and looting, calling for blood, in the name of Floon and Karch, abetted by dissident guards, malcontented troops, and foreign infiltrators, Drisriaks sworn to Ingeld.”
“I fear we are lost,” said Iaachus.
“We will attempt to draw aid from Tangara,” said Otto.
“Surely not,” said Julian. “Recall the Heruls.”
“I have a plan,” said Otto.
“I doubt there is time for any such intervention,” said Rurik, “even discounting its attendant hazards, the swarmings of Heruls.”
“I fear you are right,” said Otto. “We shall see.”
“But why should Abrogastes have spared the spy and would-be assassin, Urta?” asked Tuvo Ausonius. “Why should he permit him to escape?”
“I think,” said Otto, “to bring matters to a head, to alarm the exarch, and thus prematurely hasten his plans. Urta will inform the exarch that Abrogastes lives, and may well suspect his collusion with Ingeld. The wrath of a king is not a light thing. Presumably then, to avoid his own jeopardy, Sidonicus must act expeditiously, to seize power in Telnar, and thus in the empire. As a private person, even as an exarch, he is in mortal peril, by assassins or otherwise; I am sure he does not covet the role of a martyr; he would be more than content to leave that for others; if, on the other hand, he has the protection of Ingeld, as regent in Telnar, the regent backed by the resources and might of the empire, Abrogastes would be wise to stay his hand, to sheath his sword and wait.”
“It seems then that Abrogastes, in releasing the Otung, Urta, is impatient, that he chooses to force matters, that he is eager for matters to be resolved,” said Titus Gelinus.
“I think so,” said Otto.
“And we are warned, that we be prepared,” said Iaachus.
“There may be little time,” said Rurik.
“Ingeld may even now be in Telnar,” said Iaachus.
“It is quite possible,” said Rurik.
“Abrogastes plans well,” said Otto. “If the coup is resisted, the exarch is foiled. If it succeeds, we are done, and the throne is clear for the regency of his son, Ingeld, however unreliable and treacherous.”
“But,” said Iaachus, “we were warned.”
“Which suggests to me,” said Otto, “that Abrogastes has not forgotten the events which took place in the fourth basement of the house of Dardanis.”
“In either case, it seems Abrogastes wins,” said Julian.
“One enemy is pitted against another,” said Rurik.
“He is clever,” said Iaachus.
“He is called the Far-Grasper,” said Otto.
Chapter Sixty-One
The blond-haired, blue-eyed slave touched, softly, gently, the collar locked on her neck. Then, delicately, she touched the Slave Rose, burned into her left thigh. Most masters are right-handed.
She sat, her back against the wall, in a small, barred room, on a scarlet carpet. She was naked, as slaves are often kept.
She heard someone at the door.
Two men entered. She did not know them. She had never seen them before. She knelt, for she knew that slaves commonly knelt in the presence of free persons.
“Palms of hands on floor, head down, to the floor,” said one of the men.
She immediately assumed that position. She knew that slaves obeyed, and might be punished, terribly, if they did not do so. She knew that slaves might be so punished, even if they were slow to obey, or showed the slightest indication of, or suggestion of, unwillingness.
The men walked about her, looking at her. Then they returned, to stand before her.
“Kneel up, palms on thighs, back straight,” said one of the men.
She complied.
“Again, more gracefully,” said one of the men.
She assumed her former position, head to the floor, and then knelt up, again.
“Good,” said the man.
She knew that slaves were to be graceful.
“How do you feel?” asked one of the men.
“There is a collar on my neck,” she said.
“You are a slave,” said the man.
“I am branded,” she said.
“You are a slave,” he said.
“I am naked,” she said.
“You are a slave,” he said.
“Am I a slave?” she asked.
“Yes, you are a slave,” said the man. “How do you feel?”
“Well,” she said, “—Master.” She knew that slaves called free men ‘Master’ and free women ‘Mistress’.
“Do you know where you are?” asked one of the men.
“No, Master,” she responded.
“But you do know you are a slave,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You may speak,” he said. “And be grateful that you are permitted to speak,” he said.
“A slave is grateful, to be permitted to speak,” she said.
Then she looked, wonderingly, at the two men.
“I do not know you,” she said. “And I am confused. Things circle about, and are unclear. I know nothing of my origins, or owners. I do not recall my embonding or my sales. I do not recall my marking, nor my collaring. How strange that a girl
would not recall her branding, when the iron first seared her skin, marking her as a slave, or when the collar was first snapped about her neck, so momentous a moment. I remember little, or nothing. It is as though much of my memory was wiped away.”
“The drug is effective,” said one of the men to the other.
“I have seen it so, in hundreds of cases,” said the other.
“I do not even know my name,” she said.
“You have no name,” said one of the men, “save as it pleases Masters to put a name on you.”
“You have been called ‘Yana’,” said the other man. “That will do.”
“What is your name?” asked the first man.
“‘Yana’,” she said.
“We will tell you a little about yourself, Yana,” said the second man. “Keep it in mind. Remember it. You were taken in a town war on Safa Major, and sold to an itinerant slaver, from a town victory camp. You need not know the towns. Slaves need know little, other than that they are slaves. You were taken to Carleton, on Inez II, where you were exhibited, where the first sales plaque was hung about your neck. Following that you had five Masters, on three worlds.”
“I remember nothing of this,” she said.
“Nor need you,” he said.
“Your body is shapely,” said the other man. “It is a good body for a slave.”
“I am pleased, if Masters are pleased,” she said.
“It looks well in a collar,” he said.
“A slave is pleased, if Masters are pleased,” she said.
“You know the duties of a slave, do you not?” asked one of the men.
“A slave is to be pleasing to her Master,” she said, “—in all ways.”
“You understand that—“in all ways”?” asked the second man.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you know what this is?” asked one of the men, holding forth a coiled, dread implement.
“A slave whip,” she said.
“And you are a slave, are you not?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do you wish to feel it?” he asked.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Be pleasing,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“In all ways,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Instantly, and unquestioningly,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You are Yana, only Yana,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Do not forget it,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“What do you think we can get for her?” asked the first man.
“Fifteen, perhaps seventeen, or eighteen, darins,” said the second man.
“Chain her, and put her with the others,” said the first man.
“On all fours, and follow me, Yana,” said the second man.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The longboat grated gently on the sand.
Rowers leapt over the side and, wading, drew the boat on the beach.
“This is a desolate place,” said Corelius.
Rurik took his hand from the tiller and climbed overboard, wading ashore. “It is a secret, barren place,” he said, “little more than a skerry, some rocks and sand, a small island, a day from the delta, north, apart from familiar sea lanes, a good place to transact private business.”
“The thousand darins of gold are here?” asked Corelius, uneasily. He was in the bow of the longboat.
“There, waiting,” said Rurik, pointing.
“I see,” said Corelius. “The tiny shack.”
“The gold is inside,” said Rurik.
“I should have asked for more,” said Corelius. “The information I sold may save the empire, save it to be as it has been; it may keep the Otung on the throne; it may prevent the throne from falling into the hands of the Aatii; it may defeat various heinous plots of unsuspected conspirators.”
“Who,” asked Rurik, “could possibly have guessed that the secret enemies of the state would be the great and blessed exarch himself, humble ministrant of the rites of Floon; or Ingeld, the very son of Abrogastes, betraying his father’s wishes; or Timon Safarius Rhodius, the seemingly loyal and patriotic primarius of the senate?”
“I should have asked for more,” said Corelius, climbing over the side of the long boat, stepping onto the sand. The sand was soft and his sandals sunk into the sand, and a bit of water, washing ashore, beside the boat, entered the footprints, and then sunk away, disappearing in the sand.
“Accept the thanks of a grateful empire,” said Rurik.
Corelius advanced, climbing the beach, reaching the dry, hot sand. “I but did my duty,” he said. “The gold is in the shack?”
“Yes,” said Rurik.
“This is a strange place to store waiting gold,” said Corelius.
“Not at all,” said Rurik. “It is a safe place, a secure place. Would you rather have had the gold delivered to you in the plaza before the imperial palace or on the steps of the senate, or in an alley in the Varl district?”
“You must understand,” said Corelius, “that I must count the gold.”
“It is there,” said Rurik, “certified, under the imperial seal, but do as you wish.”
“Accompany me,” said Corelius.
“Very well,” said Rurik.
Corelius, followed by Rurik, climbed toward the shack.
“You already received a gold darin, did you not, some days ago?” asked Rurik.
“That was a mere token of good faith, to seal a bargain,” said Corelius. “It is not to be counted as part of the agreed-upon sum.”
“I see,” said Rurik.
“In devising these arrangements, so decreed the Otung,” said Corelius.
“The emperor,” said Rurik.
“If you wish,” said Corelius, trudging ahead, hastening his steps.
“The emperor is generous,” said Rurik.
“It should be a thousand darins,” said Corelius, suddenly stopping, not looking back.
“It is,” said Rurik.
Corelius then resumed his climb to the shack.
In a few moments, a little short of breath, he thrust open the door of the small shack. It was loose on its hinges. There was some light in the shack, from a small window. Motes of dust were discernible in the shaft of light, falling through the window. In the shack, on the wooden floor, were a chair and table, and on the table was a simple, sturdy box. It was of dark wood; it was closed; it was secured with a padlock; and a key lay on the table, beside the box, to its right. Corelius, sweating, thrust the key into the padlock, and, fumbling, turned the key, sprung the bolt, put aside the padlock, and opened the box. In it were four sacks, each tied with cords, their junctures bearing the imperial seal, impressed on a scrap of parchment.
Rurik stood in the doorway of the shack. “Each sack contains two hundred and fifty darins of gold,” he said.
Corelius pulled at the opened box, which scraped on the table, bringing it closer to him. “It is heavy,” he said.
“A thousand darins of gold is heavy,” said Rurik, behind him.
Feverishly, trembling, Corelius broke the seals, and tore open the sacks. “Gold!” he cried. Grunting, he lifted one sack, it was not easy, and poured its contents on the plain table, in a lengthy shower of bright metal.
“I must count it,” he said, and he began to separate the coins, sorting them into piles of ten coins each.
It took several minutes for Corelius to assure himself that the sack contained two hundred and fifty darins of gold. Indeed, he inspected each coin. Then, when he had twenty-five piles of ten coins each, he replaced them in the sack an
d knotted its cord. He then proceeded to the second sack, and determined its contents similarly, counting the coins carefully, and then returning them to their sack, which he then tied shut. This procedure was repeated with the third and fourth sack. He then lifted the four sacks, one by one, with some difficulty, as they were heavy, as had been noted, put them in the box, closed the box, secured the box with the padlock, and placed the key in his wallet.
He then turned about and noted that Rurik was no longer standing behind him, waiting in the doorway.
He shrieked with terror, and fled from the shack, running to the beach, which was empty. He screamed, and waded out, into the water, to his waist. The horizon was clear. There was no sign of the longboat.
Chapter Sixty-Three
“You have a suitable child?” asked Sidonicus.
“Yes,” said Ingeld. “It is on Tenguthaxichai at present, but it, or another, can be produced when needed.”
“Excellent,” said Sidonicus. “And the Princess Viviana?”
“Died in childbirth,” said Ingeld.
“Of course,” said Sidonicus.
“The empire mourns,” said Fulvius.
“He is here?” asked Ingeld, looking toward the back of the private audience chamber, where, standing in the shadows, rather behind Timon Safarius Rhodius, and two guards, there was a small figure.
Sidonicus motioned that the small figure might approach.
“I believe you know our friend, Urta,” said Sidonicus.
“We have met,” said Ingeld.
“I feared you were serious, great prince,” said Urta, “when, on Tenguthaxichai, you feigned to favor my execution.”
“Oh?” said Ingeld.
“You were a superb actor,” said Urta.
“I was not acting,” said Ingeld. “I feigned nothing. The work was bungled, and you knew too much. Your continued existence did much imperil a momentous clandestine enterprise.”
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