Chapter Seventeen
Before nightfall Wen Chang, Kasimir, and Komi had made their way wearily back to the inn. Kasimir’s wound—an ugly bruise, and minor laceration—was throbbing, and at his direction his companions helped him wash it, then took salves from his medical kit and applied them. Wen Chang needed no directions to apply a professional-looking bandage. Kasimir was still functional, doing as well as could be expected.
Meanwhile Komi had retreated below to look after his men, and the Magistrate had ordered food brought to the upper room. While he and Kasimir were eating they conversed.
“I cannot believe that I had Stonecutter in my hand and lost it.” Kasimir was loud with growing anger.
Wen Chang did not reply.
“It was you yourself who took it from me. You who passed it on to someone else.”
Still no answer.
“Magistrate, I saw you wrap a fake Sword in a bundle. Then you gave the package to me. But later the Sword in the bundle was genuine. I saw it, in your hands, hack to bits a wall of solid stone. I heard the sound of its magic as it did so. The Sword I was carrying was genuine, and I am sure you knew it.”
Wen Chang appeared to be meditating.
“I know you are the real Wen Chang, and I cannot believe that the real Wen Chang is a criminal.”
At last the narrow gaze turned back to Kasimir. “Thank you.” The words sounded sincere, and curiously subdued.
“Then, am I going mad? Or is it not your objective, after all, to get the Sword and return it to its rightful owner?”
“That is my objective,” said the Magistrate stiffly, for the first time sounding offended. “I have undertaken it as sincerely as any commitment in my life.”
“Then—” Kasimir made a helpless gesture. “Then I am at a loss. If I am to be of any further use to you, I must know what is going on. Was the seeming appearance of the real Sword some result of magic? But no, you do not like to use magic, do you?”
“Magic is not the tool I prefer. Kasimir, if you cannot see what is going on, now is not the time for me to tell you. For your own good, if my efforts should fail.”
“Then tell me this at least. Are there magic powers, a curse, arrayed against us? The Sword comes almost into my hands, again and again, and then it flies away—generally into the hands of that woman.”
“There is no curse upon us that I know of. We face no overwhelming magic.” Wen Chang drank tea from a mug and put it down. “I have heard that the Sword Coinspinner moves itself about freely, refusing to be bound by any merely human attempts at confinement, whether by means of solid walls or of spells. I have not heard that about Stonecutter, or any of the other Swords.”
“Then what is the explanation? All I can see clearly is that Stonecutter’s gone again,” Kasimir declared, in what sounded more like an indictment of Fate than a lament. “You wrapped an imitation in a bundle here; and when I unwrapped the same bundle there, the Sword inside was genuine. I can imagine no nonmagical explanation for that.”
Unless, of course, Kasimir’s thought went on, you substituted the real Sword for the imitation by some sleight of hand. You could have done that easily enough. I wasn’t really watching. But that means you had the real Sword here, and didn’t…
No, Kasimir told himself firmly. That would make no sense at all. The Magistrate himself was trustworthy, if anyone was. He, Kasimir, had committed himself to that.
Unless…
“If it was true that we were faced by some overwhelming magic,” said Wen Chang, as if he were calmly unaware of all that might be going through Kasimir’s mind, “impossible for us to understand or overcome, then there would not be much point in worrying. However that may be, I am going to get some sleep while I have the chance, and I suggest you do the same.”
Kasimir was on the verge of pointing out that more than half of the Magistrate’s twenty-four-hour grace period had now elapsed, but he decided that would be useless, and took himself back to his couch. The salves were working, and his wound pained him hardly at all. He dozed off hoping that enlightenment might come in dreams.
But this time there were no dreams. It seemed to Kasimir that he had barely closed his eyes, when he was awakened by a remote pounding, as of mailed fists or heavy weapon-hilts upon some lower portal of the inn. Groaning and cursing his way back to full wakefulness, he rubbed his eyes. By the time the sound of boots ascending the stairs became plain, Kasimir was sitting up and groping for his boots.
A few moments after that, Lieutenant Komi, also freshly awakened, was at the door of the upper suite. “A robbery attempt is reported at the Blue Temple,” the officer informed Kasimir tersely. “It seems certain that the Sword of Siege was used.”
Kasimir groaned. “An attempt, you say? Was it successful?”
“It doesn’t sound like it to me. But the messengers didn’t really tell me one way or the other.” Komi glanced down the narrow stairs. “Naturally, you and the Magistrate are needed at the Blue Temple at once. The Hetman commands it personally.”
“Of course. All right, we’ll go. Give us one minute. And get your men up and ready for action. We’re probably going to need them again, though for what I don’t know.”
“They’ll be ready before you are.”
Wen Chang was sleeping as peacefully as an infant when Kasimir intruded upon the inner chamber to bring him the news. But he woke up with a minimum of fuss, and gave no indication of surprise at this latest development.
Everything was soon in readiness. The trip on riding-beasts through the evening streets was uneventful. This time the Hetman had sent a larger escort, and the level of their courtesy was noticeably less.
When they came in sight of the Blue Temple, Kasimir beheld a swarm of people, many of them bearing torches or lanterns, gathered at one corner of the fortress like edifice. The High Priest Theodore himself was present, to grab Wen Chang by the sleeve as soon as he had dismounted, and attempt to hustle him forward like a common criminal.
But somehow the hustling was not to be accomplished in that fashion. Wen Chang remained standing where he was, erect and dignified, while the priest stumbled, slightly off balance, as he moved away, and had to recover his own dignity as best he could.
A confused babble of accusing voices rose. Kasimir, now that he could get a good look at the corner of the massive wall, had to admit that it certainly did look as if the Sword had been used on it. Carvings had been made in the stone blocks, deep and narrow cuts that must have required a very sharp, tough tool. And there on the pavement below the cutting were the expected fragments of stone.
Kasimir picked up one of these fragments and held it close to someone’s torch. There was no mistaking those smoothly striated markings—yes, the Sword of Siege had really been here, and had been used against this wall.
“It looks,” said Kasimir, “as if Natalia’s gang isn’t going to be easily discouraged.”
The Blue Temple priests, as they were not slow in explaining, had an extra reason to be upset. They had been spending time and effort, and presumably even money, in an effort to have their walls rendered proof by opposing magic against the powers of Stonecutter. All this had now proven to have been time and effort—and money—wasted.
Komi said: “The thieves must have been frightened off by a patrol or something, before they could dig in very far.”
Wen Chang nodded soberly. “But I wonder how far they fled when they were frightened off?”
“What do you mean?” the Director of Security demanded of him sharply.
“Has it occurred to anyone here that the same band of thieves, armed with the same Sword, might even now be at work beneath our feet? Tunneling out of reach and sight of ordinary patrols, or other defensive measures. Intent upon creating their own entrances to the treasure vaults below?”
This was of course said in full hearing of the High Priest and other Blue Temple officials. They immediately dropped their angry attempt at confrontation with the Magistrate, and bega
n to cast about in search of some way of meeting this new threat. One man immediately went down on all fours to put his ear to the pavement. In a moment almost a dozen people, including the Magistrate himself, were doing the same thing.
Kasimir also gave that tactic a try. But he gave it up in a matter of moments, unable to convince himself that he was really able to hear anything that way.
Others were having more success. One of the relatively minor temple officials was certain that he could detect the sounds of steady digging. Presently two or three others were in agreement with him.
Wen Chang stood up, shaking his head, and said that he could give no firm opinion. His senses were growing old, he said, and were no longer to be absolutely depended upon.
There was some minor excitement as Prince al-Farabi, accompanied by a couple of mounted retainers, came galloping up. He had come, the Prince said, as soon as he had heard the news of the attempted robbery.
He, at least, continued to address Wen Chang with great respect. “What are we to do, Magistrate?”
The investigator stroked his beard. He said, “If it is possible to pin down the direction of these underground sounds more precisely, starting a countermine might be one useful tactic.”
Several people took up the suggestion at once. The numbers of low-ranking workers present had been growing steadily, as first one official and then another took it upon himself to order some further mobilization; and now a call went up for digging implements.
Meanwhile the party of dignitaries, some of them keeping an eye on the two investigators as if afraid they might try to escape, adjourned by more or less common consent to inside the temple. There they descended in a body into one of the deeper treasure vaults, and here again there was much listening, with ears now applied to walls.
More lights were called for, and soon supplied, so that even the darker corners of the many underground rooms could be illuminated. More guards were called for too, though it seemed to Kasimir that the place was inconveniently crowded with armed men already.
By this time someone—Kasimir was certain only that it was neither himself nor Wen Chang—had suggested that the robbers’ new plan might not be to dig a tunnel at all, but rather to undermine an entire section of the building, so that walls, roof, and everything would collapse suddenly, in a cloud of dust and a pile of rubble. In this disaster and the ensuing confusion, the suggestion was, there would be little to prevent the brigands’ bursting up from underground like so many moles, and looting to their hearts’ content.
Theodore was trying simultaneously to counter this and other perceived threats. He had another problem, in that his vaults were crowded with authorities and aides from several organizations and of all ranks, from a head of state on down; and each authority, wanting to make his presence known, had something to say. Already a swarm of laborers armed with picks and shovels were—presumably on someone’s orders—descending into the lower vaults to begin the task of opening the floors there and getting the countermining under way. Some other leader, driven into a frenzy by this invasion of the sacred precincts, was trying to organize a force of clerks and junior priests to move some of the musty piles of wealth elsewhere. Still others were trying to delay this tactic, until they could come to an agreement on where the treasure would be safest.
In the midst of all this turmoil, Mistress Hedmark and one of her aides appeared. They had come down from their quarters near the gem room to see what was going on; terrible rumors had reached them up there, and there had been nothing to do but see for themselves.
The suspicion crossed Kasimir’s mind that Mistress Hedmark might now actually have the Sword in her possession, and that she and the Blue Temple had worked all this wall-carving, and the rumors of tunnels, as a distraction to keep suspicion from themselves. Somehow the situation had that kind of feeling to it. But Kasimir had not a shred of evidence, and he kept his wild theories to himself for the present.
Meanwhile Wen Chang, as might have been expected, was maintaining his calm amid all this confusion. The flurry of accusation against him and his partners had died down now; but when, as still happened now and then, someone blamed him to his face for being responsible, he answered mildly if at all.
As the hours of the night dragged by, nothing at all seemed certain to Kasimir any longer, except that the robbers had not yet managed to cut their way into the temple. Beyond that he had more or less given up trying to keep track of the theories and fears regarding where the blow was likely to fall, and the various efforts to forestall it. Instead he sought out a quiet corner where a pile of empty treasure sacks offered a reasonably soft couch. Relaxing, his back against a wall, the young physician entered a period of intense thought. Or tried to do so; the effort was made no easier by all the noise and activity around him.
When he saw Wen Chang moving quietly toward an exit, he followed. Outside the temple the air was much cooler and easier to breathe. Others, seeing Wen Chang and Kasimir go out, followed suspiciously.
But the Magistrate gave no sign of trying to get away. He looked at the moon, full and near setting now, and breathed of the damp air, and stretched his arms.
Kasimir sat down again, and before he knew it he was drifting into sleep…
Something, perhaps it was revelation, came to Kasimir in a dream. And suddenly he understood much that had been hidden from him. He awoke with a start, having the impression that someone had been shaking him. No one had, unless it were possibly his own Muse.
What a damned fool he had been.
Somewhere beyond the tall buildings of the city, the sun had definitely come up.
And, shortly after dawn on this first day of the Festival, another urgent summons arrived for Wen Chang and his associate. This one came directly from the palace, and the face of the messenger who brought it was ashen in the early light. His master the Hetman must indeed be in a rage.
Benjamin of the Steppe had just managed to escape from his cell in the palace. The delegation going to his cell to bring him out for execution had found the chamber empty. A tunnel originating somewhere outside the building had been cut neatly up through the stone floor. There was not the least doubt that the Sword had been used.
The Magistrate, having been apprised of all these facts, turned and repeated them calmly to those who were standing nearest to him—Kasimir, Almagro, and Lieutenant Komi. To Kasimir, Wen Chang’s face now appeared wooden with fatigue. With his new insight, he tried but failed to read something more in it than that.
As for Kasimir himself, he did not trouble to hide his feelings particularly. This struck him as the first piece of good news they had heard in some time. Komi appeared to feel the same way.
Almagro on the other hand was professionally cautious and gloomy.
There was no time now for anything like a private conference. The Hetman had sent a carriage for the people he wanted, and the Magistrate and his three associates piled into it.
As the news brought by the Hetman’s messenger spread among the dignitaries gathered in and around the Blue Temple, it had the effect of bringing their weary efforts against robbery to a halt. Indeed, it required only a moment of detached thought to see that little or nothing useful was being accomplished anyway. Priests and clerks and guards looked at each other blankly in the dawn, seeking answers that were not to be found in the faces of others as weary as themselves.
Some of the more important of these people found the energy to decide to follow the carriage to the palace.
The High Priest himself did not go to the palace. He was handed a message which he read, frowning with thought, then tucked inside his garments.
He announced that he had too much to do here in trying to put his own house in order, the house of Croesus and the other gods and goddesses of wealth.
Inside the carriage, jolting along swiftly on its way to the Hetman’s house, no one had much of anything to say. There were only the sounds of the swift ride.
When their conveyance turned into t
he square before the palace, Kasimir observed the gallows standing empty in the dawn, the new wood of the construction still damp from the recent rains. The carriage was forced now to slow down, because the plaza was so crowded with people. Of course, a mob would have gathered to see the hanging. Kasimir wondered if now some other victim would have to be found to take the place of Benjamin. He could not entirely avoid the thought that he himself might, before the morning was over, find himself being escorted up those new wooden stairs.
Such was the crush of would-be spectators near the empty scaffold that the carriage had to come almost to a halt. Putting his head out a window, Kasimir got the impression that the crowd was in a lighthearted mood, not too much downcast by the lack of an execution. He supposed that news of the dramatic escape, and the accompanying official discomfiture, provided compensation. Also there might have been an undercurrent of support for Benjamin that would cause people to view this outcome as an even happier one.
Now some mounted patrolmen of the Watch were starting to disperse the throng, and presently the carriage was able to move on. Kasimir, bringing his head in from the window, caught Wen Chang gazing at the scaffold, and there appeared in the Magistrate’s eye something of the same faint twinkle Kasimir had noticed when last they passed through this square. This time Kasimir thought he understood, but he said nothing.
The rear gates of the palace opened promptly for the official carriage, and in a few moments its occupants were disembarking within the walls. Very soon thereafter they were all in the main building, being escorted single file up a flight of narrow and very utilitarian stone stairs. The odor of a prison, reminding Kasimir of animal pens and primitive surgery, began to engulf them.
Presently the stairs brought the ascending party to a heavy door, and beyond the door they entered a dark corridor lined with tiny cells. From some of the barred doors the faces of inmates looked out, their expressions variations on madness, fear, and hope.
The four men who had come in the carriage were ushered into one of the cells, already crowded with official bodies. Some already present, who were of lesser ranks, had to vacate the cell before the four newcomers could get in. Voices on all sides demanded that they confront the evidence of their failure.
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