"To me that seems somewhat severe," I said.
"Tricks!" said Marcus.
"I suppose you now respect them the less," I said.
"Charlatanry!" he murmured. "Trickery! Fraud!"
"I think that I myself," I said, "apparently responding to this sort of thing rather differently from yourself, admire them the more as I understand how ingenious and wonderful they are, as tricks. I think I should be awed by them, but would not find so much to admire in them, if I thought they were merely the manifestations of unusual powers, as, for example, the capacity to turn folks into turtles or something."
"Perhaps," he said.
"Certainly," I said.
"I would not wish to be a turtle," he said.
"So let us trust," I said, "that folks do not abound who can wreak such wonders."
"True," he said.
"Similarly," I said, "if there were such a thing as "real magic" in your sense, whatever that might be, the world would presumably be much different than it is."
"There might be a great many more turtles," he said.
"Quite possibly," I said.
I did not doubt, of course, from what I knew of them, that the science of Priest-Kings was such that many unusual effects could be achieved. And, indeed, I did not doubt but what many such were well within the scope of the several sciences of the Kurii, as well. But these effects, of course, were rationally explicable, at least to those with the pertinent techniques and knowledge at their disposal, effects which were the fruits of unusual sciences and technologies. I did not think that Marcus needed to know about such things. How inexplicable and marvelous to a savage might appear a match, a handful of beads, a mirror, a stick of candy, a tennis ball.
"The slave was not in Anango!" he cried.
"No," I said. "I would not think so."
"But she said so, or let it be thought so!" he said. "She is thus a lying slave, and should be punished. Let her be whipped to the bone!"
"Oh, come now," I said. "She is playing her part in the show, in the entertainment. She is enjoying herself, along with everyone else. And she is a slave. What do you expect her to say? To tell the truth, and spoil the show, or perhaps have her master flogged? Do you not think such ill-thought-out intrepidity would swiftly bring her luscious hide into contact with the supple switch?"
"Yes," he said. "It is the master who is to blame."
"I do hope you get on with him," I said.
"What?" he cried.
"Yes," I said, "and, indeed, I would even recommend that you be nice to him."
"Why?" asked Marcus.
"Because," I said, "it is he who is going to obtain for you the Home Stone of Ar's Station."
18
Our Wallets are in Order
"Here we are," I said.
"What place is this?" asked Marcus.
We had been walking about for some time after the show, even past the time of curfew the constraints of which, because of our affixed armbands, as auxiliary guardsmen, we had not the least difficulty in circumventing. Challenged, we challenged back. Questioned, we questioned. And if our challenges and questions were satisfactorily met, we would proceed further, first volunteering, of course, in deference to alternative authority, our own names and missions in turn. If notes were to be later compared at some headquarters, as I did not expect they would be, some officers might have been astonished to learn how many sets of auxiliary guardsmen and diverse missions had been afoot that night.
"This is the insula," I said, "in which resides the great Renato and his troupe."
"The magician?" said Marcus.
"Yes," I said. I had made inquiries into this matter prior to leaving the theater, Marcus waiting outside for me, pondering the wonders he was convinced he had beheld within.
"I would not keep the stripped, lashed Ubara of a captured city chained in a kennel such as this," he said.
"Surely you would do so," I said.
"Well, perhaps," he admitted.
Some believe such women should be prepared quickly for the collar and others that the matter may be drawn out, teasingly, until even she, trying to deny it to herself all the while, realizes what her eventual lot is to be.
"Not all folk in the theater and such live as well as they might," I said.
"It seems they cannot make gold pieces appear from thin air," said Marcus.
"Not without a gold piece to start with," I said.
"Getting one to start with is undoubtedly the real trick," he said.
"Precisely," I said. "Let us go in."
I shoved back the heavy door. It hung on its top hinge. It had not been barred. I gathered that not every one who lived within, interestingly, was necessarily expected back before curfew. On the other hand, perhaps the proprietor, or his manager, was merely lax in matters of security. The interior, the hall and foot of the stairs, was lit by the light of a tiny tharlarion-oil lamp.
"Whew!" said Marcus.
At the foot of the stairs, as is common in insulae, there was a great wastes pot, into which the smaller wastes pots of the many tiny apartments in the building are emptied. These large pots are then carried off in wagons to the carnaria, where their contents are emptied. This work is usually done by male slaves under the supervision of a free man. When the wastes pot is picked up, a clean one is left in its place. The emptied pot is later cleaned and used again, returned to one insula or another. There is sewerage in Ar, and sewers, but on the whole these service the more affluent areas of the city. The insulae are, on the whole, tenements.
"This is a sty," said Marcus.
"Do not insult the caste of peasants," I said. "It is the ox on which the Home Stone rests." Thurnock, one of my best friends, was of that caste.
Not everyone is as careful as they might be in hitting the great pot. Lazier folks, or perhaps folks interested in testing their skill, sometimes try to do it from a higher landing. According to the ordinances the pots are supposed to be kept covered, but this ordinance is too often honored in the breach. Children sometimes use the stairs to relieve themselves. This is occasionally done, I gather, as a game, the winner being decided by the greatest number of stairs soiled.
"Ho there," said an unpleasant voice, from the top of the landing. We looked up into a pool of floating light, from a lifted lantern.
"Tal," I said.
"He is not here," said the fellow.
"Who?" I asked.
"Anyone," said the fellow.
"There is no one here?" I asked.
"Precisely," he said.
"We should like to rent a room," I said.
"No rooms," said he. "We are filled."
"I can be up the stairs in an instant," said Marcus, "and open him like a bag of suls."
"Whom are you looking for?" asked the fellow, who perhaps had excellent hearing.
"Renato the Great," I said.
"The villain, the fat urt, the rogue, the rascal?" asked the fellow.
"Yes," I said. "He."
"He is not here," he said.
I supposed the fellow was fond of him, and was concerned to protect him. On the other hand, perhaps he had not yet collected the week's lodging. That, in itself, might be a good trick.
"Do not be dismayed by our armbands," I said. "We do not come on the business of guardsmen."
"You are creditors then," he said, "or defrauded bumpkins intent upon the perpetration of dire vengeance."
"No," I said. "We are friends."
The pool of light above us seemed to shake with laughter.
I drew my blade and put it to the bowl of the lamp, on its small shelf in the hall. With a tiny movement I could tip it to the floor.
"Be careful there," said the fellow. His concern was not without reason. Such accidents, usually occurring in the rooms, often resulted in the destruction of an insula. Many folks who lived regularly in insulae had had the experience of hastily departing from their building in the middle of the night. There was also the danger that such fires could spread. Sometimes
entire blocks, and even districts, are wiped out by such fires.
"Summon him," I said.
"It is not my building," said the fellow. "It belongs to Appanius!"
"Ah, yes!" I said.
"You know the name?" asked Marcus.
"Yes," I said. "Do you not remember? He is the owner of Milo, the handsome fellow, the actor who played the part of Lurius of Jad in the pageant, and is an agriculturalist, an impresario, and slaver. That explains, probably, his interest in this establishment, and his catering to a certain clientele." I looked up at the pool of light. "It is that Appanius, is it not?" I asked.
"Yes," said the fellow, "and a powerful man."
I lowered the blade. I had no wish to do anything which Appanius might find disagreeable, such as burn down one of his buildings. He was undoubtedly a splendid fellow, and, in any case, I might later wish to do business with him. I sheathed my sword.
"Appanius is not one to be lightly trifled with!" said the fellow, seemingly somewhat emboldened by the retreat of my blade.
Marcus' blade half left its sheath. "And what of heavily trifling with him?" he asked. "Or trifling with him moderately?" Marcus was still not well disposed toward most fellows from Ar, and did not seem prepared to make an exception in favor of the fellow on the landing. I pushed Marcus' blade back down in its sheath.
"This," I said, indicating a cord and bar to one side, "is undoubtedly the alarm bar, to be rung in the case of emergency or fire."
"Yes?" said the voice from the pool of light.
"I am pleased to see it," I said. "This will quite possibly save me burning down the building."
"Why do you wish to see Renato?" asked the fellow, nervously. I think he did not relish the thought of being on the landing if the occupants of the building should suddenly, in their hundreds, begin to stream forth in vigorous, or even panic-stricken, haste, down the stairs.
"That is our business," I said.
"You are not going to lead him off in chains, are you?" he asked. "He owes two weeks' rent."
I surmised that more than an occasional lodging fee had in such a manner escaped the agent of Appanius.
"No," I said.
"Hah!" he suddenly cried.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"It is the same trick!" he said. "I see it now! The same trick!"
"What trick?" I asked.
"The rogue last year pretended to have himself arrested and led away, but it turned out to be by members of his own troupe, and thus they all escaped without paying the rent!"
"And you took him back in?" I asked.
"Who else would give such a rogue lodging but Appanius?" said the man. "But he made him pay double, and for the time before, too!"
"Interesting," I said. "But we wish to see him on business, now."
"We can force the doors, one after the other," said Marcus.
"There are at least a hundred rooms here," I said. "Perhaps more."
"Which is his room?" asked Marcus. "And we shall rout him out ourselves."
"I would have to consult the records," said the fellow. "He may not even be rooming here."
"But surely you have one or more of his slaves chained somewhere as a surety," I said.
The fellow made a tiny, angry noise above us.
I saw I had guessed right. The only slave of the ponderous fellow I had seen in the show had been the one he was now calling Litsia. I expected he had one or more elsewhere. For example, I had not seen a certain blonde about whom he often used in his dramatic farces, in various roles, such as that of the Golden Courtesan. She, and perhaps one or two others, I did not know, were in this very building, or elsewhere, chained or caged, as a surety for the lodging fees. If he wished to use one of them in some farce, or such, he would perhaps take that one, and leave another, say, Litsia, as he now called her, with the agent, or his men. Such women, being properties, may be used as sureties, to be taken over by the creditors of their former masters in the case of default. They are usually then sold, the proceeds from their sales, minus various fees, being used to satisfy, in so far as this is practical, the claims of the former master's creditors. There are many variations on this sort of thing. For example, it is not unknown for one fellow, desiring the slave of another, to advance his fellow money, perhaps for gambling, in the hope that he may not be able to pay it back, in which case the creditor, in accord with the contractual arrangements, may claim the slave. Also, of course, it is not unusual, in serious cases, for a debtor's properties to be seized and auctioned, that his debts may be satisfied. These properties include, of course, his livestock, if any, which category includes slaves. Daughters, too, in some cities, are subject to such seizure and sale. Also, a female debtor, in many cities, is subject to judicial enslavement, she then coming rightlessly and categorically, identically with any other slave, into the ownership of the creditor.
"Shall I tell him that two guardsmen are asking after him?" asked the fellow.
"No, just say, 'two friends'," I said.
"I am not his friend," said Marcus.
"One friend," I called.
"I see," said the fellow from above, carefully. "There are two fellows calling for him, who do not wish him to know they are guardsmen, one of whom is his friend, and one of whom is not, and both of whom are armed, and seem ready to unsheath their weapons at a moment's notice, if not earlier."
"I am sure he is here," I said. "So do not return and tell us he is not in."
"Shall I go up with him?" asked Marcus.
"No, no!" said the fellow above, quickly.
"You realize," said Marcus, "that the fellow may elude us, over the roofs, or climb out on a ledge, and fall to his death, or lower himself by means of a rope to the alley from the room?"
"Or disappear into thin air?" I asked.
"Possibly," grumbled Marcus, who had not yet, I fear, been persuaded to an attitude of skepticism in such matters.
"I have it," I said. Then I called up to the fellow on the landing. "Tell him," I said, "that the world's worst actor desires to speak with him."
"That seems a strange request," said the fellow with the lantern.
"Not so strange as you might think," I said.
"Very well," he said. He then turned about and began to climb the flights of stairs upward, toward the least desirable, hottest, most dangerous levels of the insula. We watched the flickering light of the lantern making its way irregularly up the walls on either side of the staircase, and then, eventually, saw it fade and disappear.
"He whom you seek is now doubtless making his exit," said Marcus.
An urt hurried down the stairs and darted along the side of the wall and through a crack in the wall.
Marcus swiftly drew his sword.
"No," I said, staying his hand. "That is not he."
"Are you sure?" asked Marcus.
"Pretty sure," I said.
"Perhaps we should wait out back," said Marcus, "to close off his retreat."
"It is dark out there," I said.
In a moment, however, we heard the stairs shaking and creaking, from flights above, and then, in a bit, expeditiously, presumably orienting himself expertly by the walls at the sides of the stairs, down came the bulk of the large fellow, his paunch swaying, his robes flying behind him.
"He moves with great rapidity," said Marcus. "Perhaps he can see in the dark?"
"No," I said.
"Perhaps he is part sleen," he said.
"Some have claimed more than a part," I said.
Marcus whistled softly, to himself.
"He knows the stairs," I said, somewhat irritably. "So, too, would you, if you lived here."
Then the great bulk was on the floor of the hall, rushing toward me. Without a moment's hesitation it seized me in a great embrace.
Then we joyfully held one another at arm's length.
"How did you know it was me?" I asked.
"It could be no other!" he cried, delightedly.
"Who is this?" he a
sked, regarding Marcus.
"My friend, Marcus," I said, "of Ar's Station."
"The state of knaves, traitors, and cowards?" inquired the ponderous fellow.
I restrained Marcus.
"I am pleased to meet you!" said the ponderous fellow, extending his hand.
"Beware," I said to Marcus, "or he will have your wallet!"
"Here is yours," said the fellow, handing mine back to me.
"That was very neatly done," I said. I was genuinely impressed. "Is there anything left in it?"
"Almost everything," said the fellow.
Gingerly, standing back, Marcus extended his hand.
The ponderous fellow seized it and shook it vigorously. It was Marcus' sword hand. I trusted it would not be injured. We might have need of it.
"How did you know where to find me?" asked the ponderous fellow.
"Inquiries, and a couple of silver tarsks, at the theater," I said.
"It is good to know one has friends," he said.
"Do you do your wonders by magic or trickery?" asked Marcus.
"Most often by trickery," said the fellow, "but sometimes, I admit, when I am tired, or do not wish to take the time and trouble required for tricks, by magic."
"See!" said Marcus to me, triumphantly.
"Really, Marcus," I said.
"It is as I told you!" he insisted.
"If you would like a demonstration," said the large fellow, solicitously, "I could consider turning you into a draft tharlarion."
Marcus turned white.
"Only temporarily, of course," the fellow assured him.
Marcus took another step back.
"Do not fear," I said to Marcus. "There is not enough room in the hall for a draft tharlarion."
"You are as practical as ever!" said the large fellow, delightedly. Then he turned to Marcus. "When a wagon would be stuck in the mud, it was always he who would first discover it! When there wasn't enough to eat, it would be he who would be the first to notice!"
I did have a good appetite, of course.
"I do not wish to be turned into a draft tharlarion," said Marcus.
"Not even temporarily?" I urged.
"No!" said Marcus.
"Have no fear," said the fellow. "I could not do that if I wished."
"But you said—" said Marcus.
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