Chares didn’t realize it but he was telling me more than he intended, as he had since arriving at our palace. So Modin was, or at any rate fancied himself, a power behind the throne?
Modin, or that there was someone like Modin, didn’t surprise me. King Domas, Gayyath’s father, had been all too typical of a grand monarch. Too many great kings have an equally great failing — they are unable to realize their mortality and hence unable to ensure a proper succession. Thus it was, I’d learned over the years, with his eldest son. I’d only met the Prince once or twice and sensed King Domas was deliberately keeping him away from the throne or from learning just how to rule. I don’t know why Domas felt as he did, whether Gayyath had somehow offended, or simply by his presence reminded Domas that one day he himself would face the Dark Seeker.
I myself was having problems with Cligus at the time, so; frankly, was wary of judging a man and his son. I avoided thinking of the difficulty, other than feeling some concern for the people of Vacaan and how they would be ruled after Domas’ death. I wondered if perhaps Domas, in his last years, understood his error and had realized Gayyath would need some sort of eminence to rule wisely and well. I doubted that, since I would have heard of Modin before now if that were true. But I chanced asking.
“Lord Modin,” Chares answered briefly, “was chief of a remote province until about six or seven years ago. His wisdom and abilities brought him to King Gayyath’s attentions and our King was well pleased when he found Lord Modin was a wizard of the first order who was also drawn to ruling.”
I thought of another being from another remote province I’d faced recently and then forced my mind into another channel. But the thought that came was no more comforting as I noted the dots of red and black that were the Warders moving through the throngs of nobility and their attendees outside the palace.
Red and black... add one color, gold, and those were the house colors of Prince Raveline, Janos’ corrupter, the monster I’d slain atop the black mountain beyond Irayas.
* * * *
I noted something else new as we neared the main palace building, a looming five story building set apart from the main complex. It was also of gold, elaborately filigreed with what looked like ivory. I remarked on it to Chares.
“No,” he said. “You would not have seen that before. It’s new and is King Gayyath’s seraglio.”
I kept my face bland, showing no surprise. Whatever King Domas did for private pleasures had never been known to me — his personal affairs were kept well concealed from outsiders and even from members of his court.
Chares drew a few steps ahead of us and I looked at Janela, who was staring at the building. Now that we were closer I could tell that the filigree was not decorative, but served to conceal bars.
“No doubt guarded by eunuchs as well,” she murmured. “Castrate a man and prison a woman... royal power at its finest.”
* * * *
What I considered the greatest single marvel of Irayas was inside the three-tiered audience chamber. On the bottom level were the commoners and the level which was previously most crowded. Now it was nearly empty. Chares led us up steps to the second level, more populous with nobility, and then to the third level, held for wizards and the highest court officials. Above this stretched the great golden throne of the King.
But what took everyone’s eye filled most of the depression on this third level, a huge simulacrum of Vacaan itself. Everything was there, from the cities to the farms to the river to the Black Mountain behind the city. I knew if you examined the model closely you could find boats, animals, even birds. This was not a conceit or work of art, but a powerful tool that was used to govern, observe and control the realm.
What was done to the simulacrum by sorcery would also be brought to the lands beyond, whether flood, rain, or the finest growing weather. The simulacrum could reward and punish from afar and was, I thought, the greatest work of magic I’d ever seen.
Usually it was an area of calm, with the wizards who controlled the model moving unhurriedly around it, their spells firmly in place. Not so this day. It appeared to me as if the spells were slipping, or had been improperly cast, because certain areas of the kingdom would suddenly shimmer and be hard to make out, as if seen through a heat wave, or else would vanish entirely and reveal the intricately-carved flooring underneath. Different sections were turning slightly without regard to the others and the perspective would change, as it might if the simulacrum were on a turntable.
The problems were not being left untreated — there must’ve been twenty or more sweating magicians, flanked by their acolytes, chanting spells, waving wands or censers. Braziers set along the way let their fragrant smoke waft upward and there were mystical symbols hastily chalked around the simulacrum.
The chief wizard, or the official in charge at any rate, was a slender, handsome man not much older than Janela and an inch or two shorter than I am. He reminded me greatly of a fox and I do not mean this disparagingly, but rather that his sharp face, clean-shaven unlike most in the court, was alert and his eyes darted constantly around, missing nothing. He moved foxlike as well, quickly, with agility, darting from sorcerer to sorcerer and snapping orders. He was frowning, obviously trying to hold back anger.
The man wore a blue silk tunic and pants and had a bright red sash around his waist that also stretched up over one shoulder. He was the only one in that building wearing red, other than the Wardens, and so I knew him instantly.
“That will be Lord Modin,” I guessed.
“It is he,” Chares said, and his voice held great respect.
We were drawing near the throne and I turned my attention to the man who sat, or rather lolled on it. I blinked. King Gayyath had... grown since I’d seen him last. His father, Domas, had been large and bearlike and so too was Gayyath. But where Domas bulked large, dominating by his very presence, Gayyath sprawled, his belly bulging the loose robes he wore, his jowls hanging to either side of his face. His dark hair was cut very short, either for convenience or to encourage it to return quickly to hide his growing baldness. He looked less like a king than like a fabled gourmand at rest.
Where his father had worn or more frequently toyed with a simple gold band for his diadem, Gayyath had an elaborately worked crown with jewels and other stones on it. After hearing of his seraglio I’d half expected him to be surrounded with members of his harem, but he hadn’t, at least not yet, let himself slip to that level of display.
I’d expected Chares to announce us but was surprised when the King’s voice boomed:
“Lord Amalric Antero of Orissa and Lady Lycus of Vacaan, who now prefers to be known as Lady Janela Kether Greycloak, you may approach us.”
Once more I was surprised — either King Gayyath was a ruler who paid more attention to detail than I’d imagined, or else someone believed our arrival was of importance and we should be honored, or, at any rate, set out from the crowd.
His voice was a wonder, a deep, booming sonorous tone that a herald, an Evocator, a magistrate or a general would have spent years of servitude to learn. As we later learned, when he spoke everyone would marvel at what he said — until they tried to find some meaning of which there was most often none.
Janela bowed and I stood erect as King Domas had told me to behave, long years ago.
“I welcome you to Vacaan,” Gayyath went on, “may your stay here be fruitful and pleasant and the granting of your every wish within our powers.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a bustle and Lord Modin was beside the throne. His face showed the anger it had a few minutes ago, then he forcibly blanked it and smoothed a courtly smile.
Gayyath nodded to him. “This is Lord Modin, gentle folk. My good friend and most trusted advisor.”
Modin bowed slightly. “I thank you, your Highness. I too am delighted to meet our travelers.”
We exchanged bows. His eyes swept me, then held on Janela. These at least bore no resemblance to a hedgerow creature, but sent out the strong, burning bla
ck stare of a master Evocator. You were intended to do his bidding, his eyes said, without question or hesitation and he knew your every secret.
Then he said, “The King and I wish to express our sorrow for the loss of your factor who was also, I understand, your friend.”
“Yes, yes,” Gayyath said. “That merchant fellow. I think I remember meeting him, didn’t I?”
Now I had the answer — Gayyath was merely well rehearsed. I wondered why Lord Modin had wanted him to be so courteous, as if our appearance was important.
“You did,” Modin said to the King, “but you hadn’t seen him for some time and you’d expressed your regrets not long before he met his unhappy fate.”
“Of course, of course,” Gayyath rumbled. “So how goes Orissa? Well, I hope and I also hope you haven’t brought any problems to us that you want us to solve. Have our own muddles and troubles, as you can see.” He waved vaguely at the simulacrum.
“No, your majesty. All we want is a favor.”
“That’s all anyone seems to want,” Gayyath went on. “And then those damned favors turn into a small estate and then a bigger estate and some land for the family and perhaps some gold and oh yes could you add in a company or perhaps a regiment of soldiers...” He let his voice trail off into what I swear were echoes.
“Actually,” Janela said, “what we need is even less than a favor than a simple permission.”
Gayyath’s eyes held on her and I was reminded he might have appeared a vaporing indulgent but he still sat the throne of the most powerful kingdom in the known world and there had been no successful attempts at usurption.
“You may ask.”
“We wish permission,” Janela said boldly, “To sail east.”
“Why? There’s nothing but ocean. The gods don’t favor such expeditions. My own father once talked of such an event that’d happened... hells, I disremember, but it must have been before his father’s father’s father’s time. Came to some sort of bad end or else just disappeared. Besides Lady, as one from Vacaan you know nothing good comes from looking east. Never has, never shall.”
I decided to intervene. “Your majesty, we wish you to indulge a foreigner, myself, and Lady Greycloak. As you can see I am drawing on in years and have a deadly fear of dying of boredom in my own bed.”
“Not I,” Gayyath said. “I hope to pass on in that very place, but not of boredom.” He snickered lasciviously.
“I am not a king,” I went on, “but a merchant and a traveler and one who’s happiest when he’s gazing on sights he’s never seen before.”
“Can’t understand that,” Gayyath went on. “Likely to be a swamp as anything else. And if the savages who live there aren’t trying to carve your liver for breakfast they’re in some sort of dream that they’re as civilized as we are. But I suppose it takes all kinds.”
He turned his attention to Modin. “Don’t your wizards have something to say about that? About going east, I mean? Isn’t that forbidden by some gods or other?”
“I know of no such ban for outsiders,” Modin said. “Of course, there is one for our citizens, your Highness. You recollect that is why we maintain a coastal patrol. But for foreigners, which I must say includes Lady Greycloak since she’s renounced her birthright, there has been none written into our laws or practiced as part of our customs.”
“Don’t like it,” Gayyath went on. “There’s nothing but evil to be found to the east. Everybody knows that.”
That was the reaction we’d been expecting and had brought many arguments to try to change Gayyath’s mind. We’d even considered, if our plea was rejected, to chance going on anyway and risk the distant wrath of Vacaan’s sorcerers once they learned of our deceit. The mild interest and lack of concern from Modin was unexpected and I wondered greatly.
Gayyath suddenly yawned. “Not that it matters,” he said. “Like you said, foreigners do things like that. You deal with it, Lord Modin.”
“Thank you, your Highness. I know you have more pressing matters,” Modin said.
“Yes, yes.” Gayyath said, then smiled at Janela. “Whatever the decision is, Lady, I hope to see you again at court. You are most beautiful and beauty is something I vastly admire.”
We bowed, made excuses, said of course we wouldn’t leave without bidding farewell to the King and no doubt would be honored in his presence once more and were escorted to a lower level. I’d expected to be taken to a privy chamber by Lord Modin, at which time the issue would be thoroughly gone into. Instead he drew us aside to a railing.
“East, eh?” he mused. “Would there be any other motive, beyond the purest curiosity, you might wish to tell me that might’ve embarrassed you in front of the King?”
“None...” I let the pause grow artfully. “Except perhaps, one. I may be old but I am still a merchant. If we encounter anything that might be of commercial interest to Orissa...”
“...Then you must return here to Irayas and discuss the matter with a chamberlain to see if it’s proper to open trade and if such commerce is in Vacaan’s best interests,” Modin finished.
“Of course.”
Then came the last surprise — I’d expected him to dismiss us and say he’d given his answer later. Instead:
“As I told the King I know of no reason you can’t be permitted to undertake your voyage, although I do consider it most foolhardy. You are forbidden to take any citizen of our kingdom with you and any supplies you require must be paid for in gold, not taken in credit. As the King said, no one returns from the east and I wish to ensure there shall be no outstanding debt to sully the great name of the Anteros. Also, I request you sail within a fortnight.”
I frankly gaped, as did Janela, in the purest astonishment. Lord Modin let a smile slip over his lips.
“King Gayyath’s father allowed business to take forever,” he said. “We have introduced newer methods. When a decision is obvious there is no reason to not make it immediately.
“So you have our permission. But as the King said, please make sure you attend some of our court events. You’ll find them enjoyable, especially when you’re long days and weeks at sea with nothing around you but water and emptiness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have an escort return you to your quarters.” He bowed and hurried back up toward his disintegrating simulacrum.
Janela and I exchanged wide-eyed looks but said nothing as two Wardens approached and bowed.
It was too easy. First King Gayyath had been properly instructed as to our arrival, then the matter was brought up and quickly taken care of. It was almost as if our request was already known and a decision had been reached before our arrival. This boded not well.
There was something most wrong. We had better move fast.
CHAPTER SIX
THE INVISIBLE NOOSE
There was actually little to be done for our ships to ready them for the expedition. The items consumed on the voyage out were made good and more supplies were high-stacked in any cranny that would hold them. Anything that had broken or badly worn was replaced and a suitable stock of trading goods was laid in, more to perpetrate the tale that we were on a trading mission than anything else.
We were waiting on one thing — for the proper phase of the moon for a certain ceremony, a ceremony that could confirm our belief in the Kingdoms of the Night... or, like all magic, produce nothing but frustration. The proper day was only two weeks distant.
It was as well we’d brought almost everything we needed with us, since Irayas was seething, dangerous and it was as well for foreigners to stay close to safety. We saw this when we ventured out from our island-castle into the commercial areas of the city. I’m not quite sure how to put this — Irayas was still the most magnificent city I’d ever known, where even the lowliest street could be paved in polished porphyry transmuted by one of Vacaan’s sorcerers from humble cobblestones and storefronts decorated lavishly with precious and semi-precious materials.
But now it looked as if the city hadn’t been maintained, a
s if the maintenance workmen no longer took their tasks to heart and were content to let a little rust show, a little grime appear and a cracked window to wait awhile before being replaced.
The people were different as well. They stared more openly and were more likely to comment on anyone wearing expensive dress than before... and weren’t unwilling for their jibes to be overheard.
Quatervals put it best — “It’s as if they’re waitin’, for what I’m not sure, but I don’t want to be around when it gets here.”
We went out in groups, pairs at the least and never alone. Janela, in spite of her protests, was companied by Chons, who seemed to have an entirely different idea about the uses cutlery could be put than most gardeners.
Frequently, however, she slipped out without him and said, innocently, when I chided her that “one can be invisible, two never.”
She was busy on a series of rather mysterious errands and I was reminded of her great grandfather’s routine many years ago when we set out on my Finding. But Janos’ secrecy in Lycanth had been necessary since he was purchasing magical implements in a time when their possession by anyone other than a licensed Evocator was forbidden. But here in Irayas it didn’t seem to matter. Finally, I found out she’d been deluged with invitations from Irayas’ sorcerers.
At first, I thought they were eager to hear about what mysteries she’d learned in her studies and travels but was quickly reminded that magicians here, like other citizens of Vacaan, felt there was nothing but barbarism and ignorance outside the borders. The invitations were primarily out of curiosity and to break the boredom of seeing the same old wizards at the same old gatherings.
Janela fell into the habit of coming by my rooms when she returned from an event, having a final glass of wine or brandy and talking — sometimes about what had happened, sometimes about what we hoped and thought lay ahead and sometimes just... talking. She was, like her grandsire, a good taleteller and better listener. I found myself talking about things I never had before, things that had happened after the events in my book I’d never told anyone other than Omerye or things that’d occurred after her death.
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 13
