The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  "I wouldn't call the idle rich of Razimir who come to your gaming tables 'the highest in the land'," scoffed Idressin. "But then one wouldn't expect a vulgar guttersnipe to know any better."

  Such was the contemptuous cruelty that the tutor put into his words, that the Empress gasped as if struck and Tariska instinctively moved as if to go to her side, but stopped immediately at a warning glance from Idressin. The older woman was beside herself and almost incoherent as she released a torrent of words.

  "Yes, the highest in the land. The Emperor, you fool, the Emperor. His agents have been to see me several times. They've asked me to open another Glasshouse in Karkor, grander by far than this, maybe even in the Enclave itself, and they're going to make me a Lady of the Empire. A Lady. Not a guttersnipe." Her voice cracked, as she began to cry, open-eyed, staring at Idressin. "You had it all and you threw it away. You threw it away. And I can't. Oh gods, I hate you. I hate you."

  "I see," said the tutor drily. "And are they under the impression that you own the Glasshouse? Or are they aware of my part in this enterprise?"

  "They know all about me. Everything. I don't know how they found out, but they say it doesn't matter, it's what I am now that counts. And they know a lot about you too. That you call yourself A'Delzir, that you travel all over the world, that you're coming back about this time. The last month they’ve been asking more and more questions about you and they wanted me to tell them as soon as you arrived in Razimir."

  The Empress was gradually recovering her composure as she continued, "Maybe the Emperor's frightened of what you might do. Who’d be mad enough to walk away from rank and privileges for no reason? He probably thinks you've been plotting against him all this time and now you're coming back to seize the throne. Some chance," she added with a touch of her former spirit. "He doesn't realise what a spent husk of a man you've become."

  The tempest of her rage was over. Yet the Empress had not reverted to the strong self-contained lady they had observed earlier. With a soft voice, moist eyes and a rather distracted almost ruminative air, this was a much more vulnerable person.

  "So it wasn’t quite true when you said everyone thinks I’m dead," the tutor commented quietly. “Do they know I'm back?”

  "Not yet, but they will do soon. I told them when the Tinker's message came and they've had a man here every day since then."

  "What do they ask about in particular?"

  "You, of course. They wanted to know everything about your past. And now they're really pressing for up-to-date news. Are you disguised? And so on. They've also been asking a lot of questions about who's with you and who you meet: anything I can give them, descriptions, background information, things like that."

  "Is that why you set out to get Tariska seduced? Background information for the Imperial agents?"

  A slow blush spread up the Empress' cheeks. She hesitated for a long moment with lowered eyes, then looked directly at Tariska.

  "I'm sorry, my dear. I seem to have been a little blind these last few months." Then turning from the white-faced girl, she replied to Idressin, "Yes. I had her drugged first, but she's very strong and stubborn and wouldn't say anything at all, even when she was completely under. So I tried another tack. I gave her a daily dose of Jessiter to lower her inhibitions and told Orriment to seduce her. She was so lonely here that it was easy for him to gain her friendship. But that didn’t work out either. I wasn't expecting you till Winterturn, A’Delzir, but you arrived too early."

  "Just as well. Not only for Tariska. For you too, Henba."

  Their eyes held, as she asked, "What will you do now?"

  "About you? And the Imperial agents?" When she nodded, the tutor continued, "Nothing at all. The situation suits me well. They know where I am, so they're happy, and I’ll make myself visible to make sure they stay happy. I had hoped not to be recognized on this trip, but if I’m being watched, I might as well stay out in the open. Hide-and-seek's a very tiring game when it's unnecessary. And as for you, why would I want to replace the unique person who has used her extraordinary talents to make this place famous throughout the Empire? In fact I ought to think up some token of my appreciation, but first we have a missing friend to find."

  After a moment’s silence the Empress spoke, the words scarcely audible. "Can I help?"

  "I think better not. But I would be obliged if you tell the Emperor's men only the barest facts about us. Nothing about our talks today and nothing about anyone being missing. If they hear of the search, tell them a child was lost from the servants' quarters."

  "You still trust me?" Her voice was low, her head down.

  "Indeed I do. With my life."

  Raising her head, she gave him a tremulous smile. "You fool", she said softly, then turned, straightened her shoulders and swept forcefully out of the room.

  There was something like a collective sigh from Berin and Tariska, who felt as though they had been holding their breath throughout.

  "Well, my friends," the tutor said lightly. "Now we have to find Caldar. He's not in the Glasshouse, that's certain. So tomorrow we'll look in the city,"

  "Why not tonight?" asked Berin.

  "We're all tired, and it will be a long hard day tomorrow." Then glancing at the determined look on Berin's face, he added, "I’ve sent people out all over this part of the city tonight, people who know it much better than you. If they’re unsuccessful, we’ll really have to use our wits tomorrow. You need to be rested."

  "Idressin." This time the query came tentatively from Rasscu. "That Hamna amulet that Caldar wears. You said it may have helped you when you were tracing him down the Lake to Suntoren. Why not now?"

  "I've already tried. Caldar's not giving out any kind of signal that I can read, through the amulet or any other way. Now, bed."

  **

  "You're so clever, Hoppy, and you work so hard. I don't think this Theyn person's got any idea how difficult your job is."

  Blonde head nestling under his chin, Geyda continued to restore the Resident's confidence in every way she knew. Stet Hopple sighed contentedly as his self-importance slowly reasserted itself under her flattery. ‘My little Geyda’, as he possessively called her, had only come into his life a few weeks ago, but she was already indispensable to him. This secret apartment he kept for her on Pirate's Hill was worth every lendar, the only place he could get right away from his work and his wife. He'd taken a risk this time coming here without a disguise, but he'd needed Geyda's kind of therapy badly tonight and he'd be gone before dawn.

  He hadn't told her about the meeting which had so disturbed him. There wasn't much she didn't know about him, but not this, not yet. He didn't like to admit, even to himself, how afraid he had been.

  It was not long since Theyn had told him he had placed an independent agent in Razimir. He had been offended at first. After all he was head of all clandestine operations in the city and it galled him to have someone unknown operating in his private fief. All he'd been given was a code name, Kestrel. His discreet efforts to find out more for himself had evoked instant retaliation. A message had come through next day on Theyn's infernal 'Network' that Hopple was to make no attempt to establish the new agent's identity: quite the contrary in fact, if he did come by this information even by accident, his own life would be forfeit.

  The savagery of the threat had brought him up short. And along with it came the realisation that this unknown operative must also have access to the Network to have called in this immediate response. He would have to assume henceforth that he himself might be under surveillance from someone close to Theyn: no one below the rank of Resident even knew the Network existed. His carefree days were over.

  Razimir had been a plum posting, even in Special Forces. The liveliest, most beautiful city in the Empire was doubly blessed by being home to a charming people who took their pleasures easily and often. In fact compared to the dull peasantry of Dendria and the haughty officialdom of Belugor, the whole of Malefor was a delight and Razimir was its je
wel. Hopple even felt some sympathy with those who wanted to make this the capital of the Empire, although such a move would inevitably spoil much of what made it special. Anyway his job was to catch the people who were promoting such ideas, not to agree with them. So far the activists of the Free Malefor Party had totally eluded him.

  If he was honest with himself, even his one success had been an accident. A nit-picking Tax inspector had queried the status of the absentee owner of the Glasshouse and had turned up the name A'Delzir. A little while later an equally fastidious clerk had matched that name to a possible sighting of Fordosk of Attegor and had passed on a routine note to the Special Forces in Razimir, where yet another clerk had noted that the gentleman’s file contained the contradictory information that he was probably dead and that he had probably been sighted in various places since his demise.

  The files on the Six Families were high priority these days, so Hopple had decided to follow up this unlikely lead himself. At the very least he would have a superb meal on expenses and at best he might be able to set up a deal for information - the upper floors of the Glasshouse must contain enough secrets to provide him with a very wealthy retirement. The meal was all he had expected. The surprise came afterwards, when he found that the very tough lady who ran the establishment was actually quite willing to talk. A hint that she herself might come under investigation as the accomplice of a known troublemaker had produced no more than an amused smile; but as soon as he switched to a more friendly approach, she had begun to respond at once. A few easy lies and meaningless promises were all that were required to lead her on and all of a sudden he had a first-class informant. Not yet the rich seam of material he was officially seeking, but maybe something even better.

  No hint of a connection between Fordosk and the FMP had yet come his way, but if it did he was well placed to take the credit. Meanwhile he had played down the whole thing in his reports, waiting avidly for the day when he could finally persuade the lady to pass on to him the information she gleaned from her upper floors. His mouth positively watered at the prospect of knowing the murky secrets of Razimir's elite.

  Things had been going along nice and steady until this autumn: since then it had become a real switchback ride up and down, mostly down.

  First of all a message had come through by pigeon from the Resident in For Dendak, Ollex Fabarrin, an uncouth man whose rudeness he detested; Hopple was required to send half of his whole Razimir force north to assist Governor Sephrim in some crazy search. Annoyed by the blunt 'required', he had been about to ignore the message when a direct order to the same effect had arrived from Theyn over the Network.

  Then no sooner had he scraped together every man he could spare and sent them north than he was told to bring them all back again. Apparently the search had been for Fordosk and his party, and as Hopple could have told them, Fordosk was headed for Razimir. In fact he had already supplied the key information over a year ago, as he was happy to remind them.

  He had been very pleased with himself. He had provided the solution to a problem which Theyn was obviously treating as important, and the main action was going to take place in his own territory. Judging from the despatches he had received they didn’t even have a decent description of Fordosk and that too he would soon be able to supply. His informant in the Glasshouse, a source which he implied was entirely the result of his own perceptiveness and diligence, was turning into a goldmine.

  His triumph had been shortlived. His men had still been on their way back from the pointless exercise in the north, when he was informed that this independent agent had already been foisted on him. No explanations, no courtesies, just the blunt fact. And that had been followed by the swift curtailment of his attempts to probe the agent's identity.

  All he could do was to cling to the positive elements left in the situation. He would still get the credit for making an important arrest. Maybe if it all went smoothly, he'd be in a strong enough position to have this invisible thorn in his side removed. It was an impossible position for a Resident and ridiculous as well: if they didn't want him to know anything about this agent, why tell him in the first place? This very night he had found out why.

  A note handed in at the Residency had summoned him to the beacon on Shakers Hill, alone. The author had cleverly inserted Theyn's own coded Priority signal into the wording and signed it Kestrel, leaving Hopple little choice but to comply. He had however taken two of his handpicked bodyguards along, with instructions to keep out of sight while staying close enough to help if necessary.

  Shakers Hill was a lonely place at night, the city's vast rubbish tips behind it and scrubby heathland in front. There had been enough light from the rising moon for the Resident to see that there was no one there. Or rather no one who wanted to be seen. Well, two can play the same game, he thought, moving quietly into the deep shadow below the unlit beacon. Field operations were many years behind him now, but he hadn't forgotten it all yet. He had been one of the best in those….

  "Stop." The word was a little bubble of sound released right in his ear. His thoughts went blank as his body tensed with shock. He could make out nothing close to him in the shadows, hear nothing but the small night wind pushing through the structure above.

  "Why did you bring others?" The same disembodied sound, so intimate, so close that he started away involuntarily. He was sweating now, scanning the space about him as his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness.

  "Answer me." Soft, yet compelling: the unspoken threat clear enough to make him shiver.

  "For security." And a lot of use they had been so far, he thought savagely. He was afraid and didn't like the feeling. There was a momentary silence.

  "You are intending to arrest Fordosk."

  "Yes. I……" Hopple checked himself. Nervous chatter was for beginners.

  "Take no action unless you hear from me."

  The realisation of what was being said took the Resident's breath away and a rush of anger swept away his fear and his caution with it. Not only was he being spied upon, he was being given orders in his own area of command. Only Theyn himself had the authority to do that to his Residents: even the generals on the Defence Council 'requested their cooperation' when the occasion arose. Worst of all this meddler was about to destroy Hopple's personal coup and the credit which would go with it.

  Surely the fool was overstepping the mark. Well, Hopple was just the man to put him straight, and he'd start by pulling in his helpers. With a few strides he was back in the moonlight, where he stood arms crossed in a prearranged signal.

  "And am I going to be allowed to keep a watch on my target, when he arrives?" He made no attempt to disguise the sarcasm.

  The quiet laugh in his ear made him jump again. Damn the fellow, how did he do that? There was no one within yards of him. "He is already in Razimir. Watch, don't touch."

  Suddenly one of Hopple's men appeared silently at one corner of the beacon, just as the other stepped out from the shadows below it and looked at him questioningly. He began to relax. These men were the best. In a few brief moments they had identified the danger area and searched it.

  "Perhaps agent Kestrel it's time we met. Why don't you show yourself?"

  There was no response. The three of them waited without moving until the bodyguard nearer to the Resident suddenly took a long stride backwards and disappeared into the blackness. A few moments later the man at the corner also stepped inwards and out of sight.

  Ten long minutes later Hopple was wondering whether he had the courage to go and see what was happening. The huge iron structure above him and its stacked timbers creaked in the rising wind: he started at every sound, and he knew that before long his imagination would send him running down the track.

  Another five minutes passed. It had to be now or never. But to approach the dark void ahead of him had in the end proved impossible. He had called his men. He had spoken to the agent he had never seen, questioned, cajoled, bargained, and finally he had walked away unanswer
ed.

  It was a symptom of his turmoil that he had come straight here to Geyda without any of his usual precautions. But it had been worth it. Already he was beginning to feel that he could take a more positive view of things. Perhaps it was time to break another of own rules and talk the situation through with her. There was a lot of common sense inside that pretty little head.

  **

  Aimlessly, his thoughts and emotions a confused whirl, Caldar had walked out through the Glasshouse gardens and crossed to the mainland over the little footbridge by which they had arrived. All night he wandered, slept a little just after dawn in a small park, then resumed his random journey. By some accident that first night he stumbled into the path of neither Razimir's police nor its footpads. Not that he had any money to steal; but the thieves in that fair city would probably have taken even his clothes if they had come upon him.

  Food never crossed his mind. He drank from a fountain in passing without even being aware of it. It rained in mid-morning and soaked him. The sun shone and dried him. He was oblivious to everything outside his own inner turmoil.

  He was completely bewildered by the strength of the emotions which had arisen as if from nowhere and taken him over. He had no blame for Tariska. His problem was to absorb the initial pain of the blow he had received and then to try to come to terms with his turbulent feelings.

  It was morning before the first emotional storm had subsided sufficiently for him to begin such an examination. Looking back he soon realised that something about Tariska had attracted him from that first day at Kirpar's farm. And as he recalled day after day on the entire journey from Suntoren, he saw that he had become increasingly aware of her. It was as if some delicate process of exploration had been taking place the whole time, which left him knowing her little better than before, but which had begun to bind them indissolubly together.