The Complete Ivory

by Doris Egan

  When Ran and I went downstairs, we found Eliana being clutched by the old lady, who was lying propped against a set of red cushions, looking about a hundred years old. The two security guards were standing dripping by the bar. And Jusik was in an argument with the steersman about turning this damned boat around, now! so they could return home at once. A typical Ivoran of the great families, nothing was more important than returning to safe, familiar territory in times of stress. I could see Eliana agreed with him. The steersman kept trying to explain that the canal wasn't wide enough here to turn in.

  Finally Jusik bowed to physical law and announced to his guests that it would be another hour before they would come around to the pier again. Please make yourselves as comfortable as possible, etc.

  I found myself drifting over toward the bar and thought maybe a drink wouldn't be a bad idea. I'd never even spoken to Kade, he meant nothing to me, but it was impossible to avoid the shock of his death in the faces of the people he had known. And in conjunction with whatever Ran and I had experienced upstairs, it threw me off balance.

  The bartender had wandered away, so I poured myself a pink ringer and offered one to Ran. He shook his head. The security guard who'd argued with Kade and then dived for him in the canal sat down heavily on a bench next to the bar, creating a puddle of water beneath it. He pulled off his wet jacket and dropped it in a ball at his feet. He glanced over toward the old woman, where Eliana sat rubbing her hands, and his face was as drawn and pale as hers.

  No wonder. This wasn't going to look any too good on his record. Coalis had already taken the other place on the bench; he was staring at nothing, in a state of shock. I had the rare experience of seeing a professed na' telleth completely and obviously at a loss.

  I suddenly grasped that, whatever his relationship with Kade had been, the Poraths no longer had an heir and a spare. Coalis was now first son of the House. He must have realized by now that he could forget about being a monk.

  It was funny, but I could empathize a lot more quickly with the destruction of a dream, selfish though that may be, than with any sorrow over Kade, whom I'd only known as an irritant. I poured a new ringer into a large glass, walked over to Coalis, and held it out.

  "Medicinal purposes," I said. "It won't do any harm."

  He accepted it and started drinking. Poor kid. He'd lost that self-possession that made him seem ageless last night, and looked like what he was: A boy in his late teens, who'd just taken a major blow.

  I realized that the still-wet guard next to him was shivering. "I'm sorry," I said belatedly. "I can get you one, too. And they ought to have brought you some towels." Typical insular House reaction, to take care of themselves and forget everybody else.

  "Thanks," he said. He wiped his nose with his arm in a distracted sort of way.

  I turned to go, when a voice said to Coalis, in pure provincial argot, "Tough break, kid."

  A voice I knew very well. A voice that could not possibly be here. I turned back, shocked, to see the Imperial Minister for Provincial Affairs holding out a towel to the shivering guard. "You look like you could use this." Then he smiled at me. "Hello, Theodora."

  A height between medium and tall; dark hair shot with premature gray, the calm certainty in his face of a very heavy falling rock. He wasn't wearing his glasses. Stereth Tar'krim, one of the few outlaw leaders to ever successfully get out of the Northwest Sector and into the Imperial power structure… and the only one who kept his old name.

  I became aware that my mouth was open, and I closed it. "What are you doing here? Where were you? I didn't see you with the guests before." Not the most polite, or even most coherent greeting, but it was out before I could think about it.

  "I was downstairs, chatting with friends." There's a kind of phoniness, when Stereth uses words like chatting, that he enjoys and likes his listeners to enjoy.

  Coalis looked up dully. "You two know each other?"

  I might have asked the same thing. What was Stereth doing on an intimate conversational basis with the younger son of Porath? Or rather, the first son, now. I looked at him speculatively.

  He said, "I suppose this means Ran's aboard, too. I should have come upstairs earlier. Where is he?"

  "Right here." Ran appeared behind him, looking, I am glad to say, nowhere near as shocked as I felt.

  Stereth turned happily. "Sokol." he said. Quietly, thank the gods.

  Ran's eyes went wide, and he took Stereth by the arm and pulled him behind the bar. I followed. In a fierce whisper he said, "Do not call me Sokol."

  "Your past is nothing to be ashamed of."

  "I'm not ashamed, and don't do it." Ran was morally entitled to give orders on this subject, as it was Stereth's fault that we'd once used aliases to begin with. "What's going on here?" Without waiting for an answer, he added, "Look, I don't want my family name pulled into some new affair of yours."

  "I beg your pardon, old friend, but you'll have to tell me what you're talking about." There was a slight edge of coldness in his voice now.

  "Kade Porath. He was killed by sorcery."

  I said, "He was?"

  "That's interesting," said Stereth. He said it thoughtfully, not with sarcasm. "I was downstairs when it happened, but from what I heard it did sound strange."

  "Are you seriously telling me you had nothing to do with this? You seem to know the new heir pretty well, Stereth. And I know how you like to make alliances."

  He did not appear offended. "I'm seriously telling you I had nothing to do with it. I never lie to my crew, remember."

  "You don't tell them the whole story, either. And anyway, we're not in your crew anymore." He took a deep breath. Stereth was the one person who could sometimes put Ran at a loss. "We were never in your crew."

  This was debatable. We'd spent the previous summer as involuntary guests and co-conspirators in Stereth's outlaw band. Fortunately, the Imperial prosecuters were still unaware of this. The penalty for the use of sorcery as a weapon against the Empire is decapitation for every member of the family. Technically, that would mean every Cor-mallon on the planet, down to the last newborn child. I didn't want to test the law to see if they'd go through with it.

  I said, "So, Stereth—did you buy new eyes from the barbarians?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "You're not wearing your glasses."

  "Ah." The Legend of the Northwest Sector felt vaguely around an inside robe pocket. "I left them in my other robe."

  Ran was giving me this look that said, Must we speak to him socially?

  I went on, "And how's your wife?"

  From his seat by the wall, Coalis was watching us all with great interest.

  "You know Cantry, she never changes. Ah, Theodora, Ran, I believe you've met my secretary."

  I turned and got another in the series of small electric shocks I'd been receiving all day. A member of the old outlaw band I'd never expected to see again—"Clintris?" I said disbelievingly. A stocky woman, born to disapprove, her hair pulled back severely; wearing a set of robes she never could have afforded in the old days, that nevertheless managed to seem unbecoming.

  Clintris… Ran groaned. "Oh, gods, are they all here?"

  I said, "Clintris, how are you?" There was warmth in my voice; we'd actually gotten to the point where we were getting along, by the time our adventure ended. She glowered back. What had I—

  Oh. I'd called her by her road name, that we never used to her face. "Tight-Ass" would be the nearest translation.

  Stereth corrected us. "The lady Nossa Kombriline."

  "Oh, right. Of course." I bowed to her and she inclined her head a fraction of a millimeter. Clintris was not a forgiving sort.

  She turned at once to Stereth. "Sir, I've been talking to the captain." Nobody avoids talking to Clintris if she's set on reaching them. "We'll be at the pier in about forty minutes. You have an early dinner tonight with the undersecretary from the department of power, and I believe in any case we should distance ourselves fro
m… the events of the day."

  "In other words, you'd like me to bundle us both into a closed carriage and go straight home."

  "It's my recommendation."

  Clintris—that is, the lady Nossa—was in her element as a governmental secretary, though her accent was still tinged with the provinces and the scarlet outerrobe she wore looked as though it had been hastily wrapped around a tree stump with a face. I glanced down at my own clothing involuntarily; was that how I looked in Ivoran robes?

  I looked up to find Stereth meeting Ran's eyes. "I'd recommend the same course to you, old friend."

  Ran looked away toward the rows of liquor bottles, as though they were the most interesting objects on the boat. "We're here with some relatives. We'll have to see what they want to do."

  "Oh, yes, the Shikrons. I suppose they may feel the family has some claim on them. What with the engagement, I mean."

  Typical Stereth. But I suppose Coalis had told him.

  Ran said, "Nobody's engaged yet." It came out more firmly, I think, than he meant it to.

  Stereth raised an eyebrow. "And nobody will be, if you have your way. I see. I guess you have more reason than I do to be glad Kade had an urge to go swimming."

  He smiled. Ran turned a blazing look on him, and I grasped my husband's sleeve. "Shouldn't we find Kylla and Lysander and see what they want to do?"

  I could see him banking the fires. Ran does not approve of losing one's temper in public; he thinks it's common.

  Stereth is one of the only people in the world who can bring him so near to it.

  "If there's anything I can do," said Stereth, as Ran turned away. "And let me know if you need a ride."

  Ran strode off toward the stairwell, making a sound very like a growl.

  We took Kylla and Lysander home in our carriage. They were both very quiet. Ran was sitting beside Lysander, and I held Kylla's hand.

  Ran nudged Lysander and spoke quietly. "Did you know the Minister for Provincial Affairs was on board?"

  Lysander blinked. "Stereth Tar'krim? Was he? I didn't see him."

  "Do you know of any reason the Poraths would be associating with him?"

  "The notorious Rice Thief? Maybe they thought his reputation would add to the party. I don't know, it's the first I heard of it. Why? Is it important?"

  Ran slid the steel shutter open an inch; we were approaching the Shikron villa. He let it down again. "What will this do to the marriage proposal?"

  Lysander sighed. "I doubt if they'll let it go. On the other hand, it was Kade's idea, and he kept pushing it. It'll be easier to kill, now that he's gone."

  "Easier to kill," Ran muttered, to himself. The carriage rolled to a stop and Lysander climbed out. He helped Kylla down, and slid shut the door without a word.

  We rode back to our house in silence. When we reached there, I gave Ran a five-tabal coin to tip the driver and we climbed the two steps to the door.

  Ran said, "Do you think Stereth had anything to do with this?"

  "The gods only know," I said, tiredly. "Let's get some sleep."

  Between Scythian gold cats, murder, and old blackmailing friends, it had been a long night and day. Ran said, "The parcel light's blinking on the security station."

  "Fine. You handle it—gracious sir, First of Cormallon."

  He just looked at me. "You'll be better," he said, "when you've had a nap."

  * * *

  I was better when I'd had a nap. As a matter of fact, I was better when I'd had a full night's sleep with unobstructed breathing. As a collector of tales and an Athenan scholar, I loved to read about knights and princesses and quests, and imagine myself bumming from one perilous castle to the next; but the fact is, physical exhaustion just makes me cranky. It's not very flattering, and really, I do try—I just don't get very far in graciousness until I'm fed and rested.

  I woke up next morning, got some hermitmeat and rice from the larder, cracked open a pellfruit, and padded into the downstairs parlor balancing plates. Ran was sprawled on the divan, staring at the ceiling. I'd downed half the pellfruit while still in the pantry, and therefore looked kindly on him. He was, after all, my dearest friend and the light of my heart. I said, "Last night you said there was a parcel?"

  He turned his head. "Already took care of it. It was just the last three copies of the Capital News. They got sent to Cormallon and Jad sent them on here."

  A pile of nondescript pamphlets lay on the floor. "I see we've got today's, too. Jad must've notified them to change the address."

  The Capital News is not on the Net because it is not a very respectable publication. It has an insert called the "Gossip Gazette," and various highly placed persons try from time to time to halt its publication. But it's just too damned entertaining. Ivorans love to read about stuff like that. I understood that the Emperor got a copy every morning.

  I snagged one of the Newses, opened it on a pillow, sat on another pillow, and started to eat and read. I skipped over the trade articles and went straight to the insert. "Oh, kanz," I said.

  Ran looked up. "What?"

  "Today's date. Listen: 'What branch of the tree of six is offering its youngest blossom to a merchant house? The lovely lady E., still fresh from school, met her potential suitor at a garden party yesterday evening. We understand the gentleman in question already has one bride, but who could refuse such a rose in springtime? And here at Gossip Gazette, we've always heard that a pair beats one of a kind."

  Ran put a hand over his eyes. "They don't actually name the Poraths… what am I saying? Of course everyone will know it's the Poraths."

  "In case they're in any doubt, there's a description of the snowfall at the party. Where do they get this information?"

  "Paid off one of the guests."

  I scanned the other articles for mention of Shikrons or Poraths. "You'd think the guests at a Six Families party would be too wealthy to be tempted by whatever the Gossip Gazette can pay."

  "Huh. For all we know, some of them are on the staff."

  I closed the sheet. "This is going to make it difficult for the Poraths to back out, isn't it?"

  Ran sat up suddenly. "It may have been the Poraths who planted that item. They were already going out on a limb to commit themselves, true? Imagine the effect on poor Lysander, picking up this paper in the morning, knowing he'd never be able to argue now that Eliana wasn't publicly compromised. That's if events had gone as planned, I mean. If Kade hadn't died."

  I gave him my attention. "You think that was sorcer-ously caused?"

  "I know it. The entire field of balance changed. And anyway, common sense will tell you that a man who doesn't know how to swim won't suddenly dive off a boat. Not when he's in his right mind."

  In his right mind. I thought back over what I'd studied of the field. Sorcery cannot really affect the mind directly, but it can deceive the mind through physical changes. Giving a person the physical symptoms of fear can convince him he's afraid of something; the symptoms of lust or hunger were likewise easy to stimulate. "A fire spell? Raise his body temperature, convince him he's burning up?"

  "It's how I would do it," said Ran. Then he added, "If I were going to do it publicly, which I never would."

  "I don't know, it seems so unlikely. Wouldn't he just call for help? I mean, diving into the canal! He knew he couldn't swim, odds were good he'd die anyway—"

  "Sweetheart, I see you've had the good fortune never to be near a major fire disaster. People dive off twelve-story buildings with nothing but stone underneath when their rooms catch fire. There's no force more persuasive." I had been in a fire, once, but it had been a small one, and thankfully I'd lost consciousness early on. Ran continued, "Actually, using a fire spell to kill by water is really a charming conceit, sorcerously speaking."

  "And which of the guests do you think did it?"

  It was indeed the question. Ran considered it, as I knew he'd been considering since it happened; then he said, regretfully, "We don't have sufficient data."
<
br />   "We could make wild guesses."

  "So could the Gossip Gazette. Though I doubt that they will, it's too close to real news." He walked over to join me, and I gave him a slice of fruit. "I'll have to make a condolence call this morning on Jusik Porath. It's my duty as the First of Cormallon, and having had the bad luck to be on the scene when it happened, I suppose I can't get out of it."

  "Do I have to go?" I was willing to foist this one off on others if I could; rather the way Ran was somehow never around on major housecleaning days. I suppose it all evened out.

  He shook his head. "If you were close to Grandmother Porath or Eliana, they'd expect you to call on them; but you'd still be under no obligation."

  Ran had shed his outerrobe when he came in. Now he opened his underrobe, stretched his legs out on the carpet, swallowed a piece of fruit, and sighed in pleased physicality.

  "Nice legs, stranger," I said in Standard. "You new in town?"

  He laughed, nearly choking on the fruit. He slid an arm around my waist and said, "A man not married to a barbarian doesn't know what he's missing." He kissed the back of my neck. "Moon of my heart," he said in Ivoran.

  Just then the doorbells jangled. We froze, like two children caught playing doctor in the back garden. I said, "If we wait, they'll go away."

  He pulled his underrobe together. I said, "Ignore it."

  But I knew better than that. The First of Cormallon never ignores doorbells. Or Net messages, or parcel signals, or mail of any kind. There's always a chance it might be something his duty requires of him. He pulled himself to his feet and slipped on a respectable pair of embroidered house slippers.

  I waited for him to come back. Several minutes passed. I heard a heavy tread of feet in the passage; two pairs of feet, by the sound of it. The slippered pair was clearly Ran's, but his footfall was silent by nature—he was warning me that company was on its way. His voice came from the passage, overly loud: "This way, if you don't mind, noble sir; my wife is within."

  I jumped up and kicked the cushions out of the way and ran a hand through my hair and checked to see my robe was done up correctly. It's not always easy to go from being freewheeling Theodora of Pyrene to a respectable Cormal-lon matron. Was there time to grab the plates? I dived for them, heard footsteps just outside the doorway, and straightened up again. Close enough. The noble sir, whoever he was, should have sent word he was coming, and would have to deal with life as it was rather than the more courteous fiction it could be.