by S. E. Smith
“Looks true to me!” said Paolo.
“That will get you that girl!” Sara snapped the tin shell over it for safekeeping and handed the bowl to Jerad, who reverently put it in his rucksack. “I wonder? Yes!” The coins in her purse had turned to gold. “We can buy tickets to the King’s Feast in the Winter Palace and you can approach the King with the Grail to ask for his daughter’s hand!”
Jerad nodded as eagerly as if his neck were rubber.
And that, she thought triumphantly, would put her that much closer to the unicorn. She could let Kev in on her plan. He might help her. Except—as far as she could tell, he was as scrupulous an academic as any at Avend University. He might think her plan was unethical. No doubt it was questionable in light of the university honor code. Aunt Lana, who didn’t think much of the code, might not have considered that a problem. But Sara was not Aunt Lana.
“First we’d best freshen up,” Paolo said. “You Crusaders have dirt and dried blood on you—and you, Sara, might neaten your hair.”
The nearest cluster of individual refreshers looked unpromisingly like ancient outhouses. But inside, the facilities were nice and modern. And there were comm nodes, as Sara found when her pod trilled an urgent message. Once again it was from Lana.
Sara-finest, forget what I asked you to look for. Don’t even say the G-word today!
With exasperation, Sara thought how it was much too late for that.
Associate ONLY with university people you can TRUST!
This was as excited a message as Sara had ever gotten from Aunt Lana, and inexplicable as well.
Just enjoy the rest of your time at the Fair!
Sara retorted, “I intend to!”
Five
One Grail Too Many
When she rejoined them, Sara had her hood down and her hair in a long braid. Kev drank in the sight of her. Long dark hair, bright intelligent eyes, curvy figure, expressive face—everything about her added up to the most attractive kind of woman in Kev’s eyes. Jerad could have—in as many senses of have as proved feasible—his Faxen Princess. Kev wanted Sara. He wondered how to impress her or help her with something, anything, now that they’d found their Grails.
The four of them started toward the Royal Gate to buy tickets for the feast at the Winter Palace plus transportation there via the Magic Mirror—actually a translator door, as the Palace was high on the mountain. In a quiet alley behind a row of shops, a door opened in what had looked like a blank back wall. A monitor in his soft black hat with a white feather stepped out. “Timeout. All four of you. Step this way, please.”
“Dust off!” Sara snapped.
Remembering the avalanche and guessing that the monitors might be reserving timeouts for serious issues, Kev put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down. Let’s see what it’s about.”
He actually got a Wendisan bow from the monitor, who ushered them into a small conference room. “Shandy?” Glasses with tawny liquid, foamy at the top, rested on a side table.
“Since we’re in a back room in the Fool Reversed, and theirs is excellent, I believe I will,” said Paolo. Sara crossed her arms, scowling. Jerad sampled a glass of shandy with a furrowed brow. Kev decided he’d better take the lead. “Did we do something wrong?”
“Not in the least,” said the monitor. He was a slender, dark-haired, soft-voiced, golden-skinned—in other words very representative—Wendisan. “Your group has distinguished itself with resourcefulness and success today.”
Paolo ran a finger through the condensation on the side of his glass and smiled. “Team Grail.”
“Yes. You’ve done better than any others today. The Grails are what were anciently called Easter eggs, you know.”
Paolo nodded. “Attractive treats secreted somewhere for the pleasure of finding them.”
“Exactly so. But it has not gone according to our plan. Something else was planted in the Fair under the cover of our Grails. It’s not meant for any ordinary fairgoer to find. It’s meant for someone else. Someone of criminal intent.”
The monitor paused to let that sink in. They all stared at him.
“Your team has proved itself the most able of Grail-seekers—”
Kev interrupted him. “And you want us to find it for you?”
“Well, flutter that!” Sara said. “If you monitors would rather hide and not get your hands dirty doing anything and if the reputation of your Fair is too precious for you to admit to the police there’s a problem, don’t put it on us!”
Slight nods from Jerad and Paolo told Kev that they thought something similar and were, like Kev himself, glad Sara had been so blunt.
The monitor said quietly, “Our Fairs are an important interstellar interface for Wendis, not just a vital source of revenue—though that, too—and operated with a great deal of autonomy from the government of Wendis. Many important factions demand autonomy, and secrecy. To sort out this problem with a show of force would unbalance everything—like an aerial mobile, a thing that spins beautifully in delicate balance, but clumsily handled it becomes a useless tangle.
“As to the monitor who learned about one Grail too many, he’s now in the hospital.”
Kev guessed that Elzebet Seller’s job hadn’t gotten any easier in the course of the day.
“He’s neither a fighter nor a schemer, though. He seemingly got into trouble that you people could have schemed or fought your way out of.”
The others looked at Kev expectantly. Somehow he’d become their leader. The responsibility settled on his shoulders like an invisible mantle. Oddly, it didn’t feel uncomfortable, just a bit heavy. “We can’t sift the Fair from one end to the other. Do you have any clue where the extra Grail is?”
“It is in Axledoom.”
“Oh, no!” said Jerad. “We didn’t do too well there.”
Taken aback too, Kev said, “We can’t very well walk into a battleground to ask around about a Grail!”
“The battle is over. Erstwhile combatants are eating supper. Some of them are pairing up, including with people from the opposing side or noncombatants, meaning that you two”—he indicated Kev and Sara—“would look quite natural. Meanwhile, quite a few people are trying to locate possessions they lost today. There’s even a place where lost and stolen items have been collected for their rightful owners to identify.”
Kev instantly and with a sharp flareup of desire visualized his shield. He flexed his empty left hand, bruised knuckles decrying the shield’s loss.
“And that is where we think a Grail too many may have been placed, slipped in amid earlier confusion. The place is managed by someone known as the Fence.”
Paolo raised a finger. “One point. If that name has anything to do with the ancient senses of the word, the Fence will not be a trustworthy person—more like a confederate of thieves—and will demand payment. And another point. This sounds dangerous. I’m not unwilling to court danger and these younger folk may be even more so inclined. But this is Wendis. For such work as you propose, there should be rewards. And not just bright lights and coins changing color.”
To everyone’s surprise, the monitor took off his hat and made a bow. “Win or lose, it will be done.”
Kev studied his friends. Jerad looked conflicted—as well he might: he still wanted to find that girl. Sara’s dark eyes were eager. If she was a woman inclined to shy away from exciting danger, Kev would eat the monitor’s plumed hat. As for himself—he wanted his shield back. And he wanted to find the Grail if Sara did. Wanting didn’t make that, or anything else, simple and safe. “If you monitors know about the Grails we found, how about other interested parties—could they know and would they interfere?”
“Security around here may be leaky as a sieve,” Paolo said shrewdly.
The monitor admitted, “We have no way of knowing how many parties are aware of all this, and to what extent. Certainly the Feuding Dukes are unhappy. After a melee at the Fane, they both went away empty-handed because your team got there first.”
Kev paced, the better to think. “We need some feigning of our own. A way to put interested parties on the wrong trail. Jerad, Paolo, I say you two go to the King’s Feast with the Grail from the Fane. You’re a knight and a suitor for the Princess, with your wise scholar-advisor.”
A smile spread across Paolo’s face. “Ah! Like Merlin to Arthur.”
Jerad saluted Kev.
Kev pointed at the monitor, well aware that pointing was a rude gesture in Wendis. “Put every monitor you can spare on these two to keep them safe.”
“We can do that in the Winter Palace. In Axledoom, we have no such option.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Do you know why it’s called Axledoom?” Paolo asked.
“No axled vehicles,” Jerad said. “There are patches of sand that bog chariots, wagons or cars down. And there are pitfalls activated by heavy weight—or hidden switches—big enough to trap a detachment of fighters.”
“I don’t doubt that, but a place name like that figured into old Europe’s desert wars. It was Akeldama, the Field of Blood. Known as a burial ground and before that a killing field.”
“That’s what it felt like this morning, even if the fighting was make-believe.” On impulse, Kev held his hand out to Sara. “Will you go with me anyway?”
She took his hand. “Yes.”
This seemed like more than a potentially dangerous game. To his astonishment, Kev recalled a phrase in Elzebet’s briefing. Rules of Engagement. The words wrote themselves across the back of his mind in bright letters. Could he be hoping, deep down, that today could start something that wouldn’t stop, something that would last as long as he’d hoped for in his last love affair—forever?
Kev had never surprised himself quite this much.
I didn’t know this about myself, Sara thought. Not even after every relative on Goya and most of their acquaintances here had told her how much she resembled Lana. It turned out that sexual attraction and a possibility of danger was a combination she couldn’t resist any more than Lana could.
Now that she saw it in this light, something attractive about danger had sent her after the unicorn in the first place. She’d set out to bend the honor code, jeopardizing her academic career if she was found out, and risking possible physical injury too, all to investigate a scientific hypothesis. Which right now didn’t seem that important.
Evidently the monitor had his organization behind him. Paolo and Jerad were whisked away to the Magic Mirror. The monitor brought out an Arab robe for Sara. It was warm, rip-proof, equipped with secret pockets, made of shimmering blue material that matched her tunic and pants, and really so nice that Sara would have found it hard to resist the robe alone as an inducement into this adventure.
Kev got a winter cloak. Until and unless he needed it, it packed down to a lightweight square that hardly expanded his rucksack. They both got guidebooks too. “These are the most up-to-date edition that we monitors use. Return to Winter if you’re in trouble,” their Monitor told them. “The Doors are well marked and your Wild Card will work with any of them.”
Finally the monitor gave them something he called a Window Key. “The Fair is riddled with shortcuts. The way they work is semi-random, to take someone from one place to a somehow similar place unpredictably—which could help you make a quick exit from danger. Hold the key and the feel of it will tell you in what direction to look for the Window. The proximity of the Key will unlock the Window. I don’t recommend you try it lightly, especially since a Window only admits one person. But there is this.” He indicated a fingernail-sized groove on the Key. “This a tracer that you can turn on, always a good precaution when using a Window—one never knows where one will end up, and it could be an unsafe place. Just beware, because others can see it too, more than just the person with a finder.” He solemnly gave Sara a plain bronze ring.
Kev looked at Sara with an expression as serious as she’d ever seen on him on campus, but his mind wasn’t on academic problems. The focus of his gaze on her made her breath come more quickly. “Ready?”
Was she ready for love and danger with Kev? “Yes.” She put the finder ring on her middle finger where it was likely to stay secure.
Getting to Axledoom was easy enough. Kev’s Wild Card, Reversed, instantly started them on their way. And finally they were alone together. Sara pulled Kev close with her hands on the sides of his face.
After a long kiss that still wasn’t long enough, he turned his head aside, putting one hand against the wall. “I recognize this progression. It’s the reverse of the route Jerad and I took this morning. We’re almost there. Take this.” He handed her the Wild Card. “If we’re separated, get back to Winter.”
Sara put the Card in a pocket in her sash, next to the control box for her drone motes. And she took two motes out of the control box with her finger, touching Kev’s collar to put them there. “You might need light later.”
“Thank you.” He kissed her finger and that sent a thrill like a soft electric shock through her.
The door of the translator opened onto a barren, rocky slope. It was almost sunset, the sunball a dimming glare in the west end of the spar in the heart of the cylindrical world.
Kev led the way up a slope. Around a big rock, they came to the field they were looking for. The ground was churned up and strewn with sticks and rags. “Looks like some costumes didn’t hold up. Some weapons didn’t either.”
Sara stared at a dark stain on the sand. Somebody had lost a lot of blood here. A cold wind blew across the field, scattering rags, some of which looked stained brown with blood too. She shivered.
Kev pointed to a thick-walled white building, antispinward of where they stood. “Let’s try there. It’s neutral territory called the Monastery. It had a first aid station during the fighting.”
Now it was a cozy refectory, with warmth coming from orange lights set in the thick walls, erstwhile fighters eating supper at long tables, and more food still cooking on hot grills. Sara’s mouth watered. “Maybe we should eat?”
“Good idea.” Kev bought a meaty kebab. The synthmeat was perfectly rimed with char. Something about taking turns pulling pieces of meat and fruit off the skewer sent Sara’s nerves into a riff of delight.
If danger plus sexual interest plus sensory pleasure had this kind of effect on Aunt Lana, well, that could explain Lana’s love life. But Sara was not Lana; Sara had no interest in someone a lot younger than her, anyone she hardly knew, or someone she knew and didn’t like all that well. To want sex, Sara needed someone close to her own age and intelligence, who she knew and trusted.
Kev Desler had a very strong resemblance to just such a person.
She sternly told herself to look closely at these surroundings. They needed to know what was here and whether the Monitor’s information was wrong. So far, though, what the Monitor had told them seemed accurate. There were a number of couples here, plus an apparent foursome in a dark corner, and the couples included mixed matches of Crusaders and Arabs and either kind of fighter with noncombatants. Sara and Kev fit right in.
After eating the last sweet, sticky piece of pineapple, she licked her fingers. Kev watched with a subtle hunger that didn’t have everything to do with grilled kebobs. Giving himself a slight shake, though, he returned to their business.
He asked around about the Fence. Everyone knew about that. Evidently the Fence’s business was booming. Kev’s informants pointed to stairs that went underground.
The stairs reached a landing and went down another flight. It was cooler here than above, and their footsteps had the hollowness of sounds made in a wide, hard-walled space. Sara pulled Kev into a close embrace. He immediately embraced her back, but she had a different purpose. “This is no root cellar,” she whispered in his ear. “I think this goes down into the Underworld inside of Mount Zaber. Aunt Lana told me lawless elements infest the mountain like worms in an apple. She didn’t mean people bending rules—she meant lawless to the point of criminal.”
“Want to give up the quest?”
Good question. She felt a tense thrill in her midsection. It was Kev’s presence, so close, and potential danger, not much farther away. “No, but I wanted you to know.”
They pulled away from each other, Sara brushing the side of his face with hers. His skin was warm and rough.
The Fence, who was appropriately unkempt and unsavory-looking, turned out to rule a tunnel with holes and ledges in the walls. “I lost some gear today,” Kev told the Fence.
“What was it?”
“My shield. And she’s lost a drinking cup,” Kev added for good measure.
“Look around,” said the Fence.
The Fence might be shady—or an extortionist—but his realm was no disorganized jumble. Everything was grouped by Crusader and Arab fighting units, with the least valuable things placed in front of the Fence on a long row of tables, the more valuable items lined behind the Fence on a short row of tables, and the most valuable things of all placed in holes in the wall behind the tables. The Fence had two burly confederates lounging around but watching everything and everyone with beady eyes. Sara’s heart sank. This was not a place where you could lift an unguarded treasure.
The signage was even more discouraging.
IF IT’S YOURS BRING IT TO THE MANAGEMENT AND IT’LL BE KEPT SECURE FOR 24 HOURS FOR A NOMINAL FEE THEN RELEASED TO YOU IF NOT CREDIBLY CLAIMED BY ANYONE ELSE.
IF IT’S NOT YOURS AND YOU BREAK IT YOU PAY FULL MARKET PRICE.
ATTEMPTED THEFT = YOU END UP IN THE HOSPITAL.
TAKE FIGHTS OUTSIDE!
A long ledge in the tunnel wall was labeled as holding noncombatant, unidentified and ordinary lost and found things. Sara walked slowly along the ledge, scanning the goods with disinterest that she really didn’t have to feign. She was the only customer in this part of the Fence’s tunnel. A disheveled fighter loitered in the Crusader section. When Kev found his shield, the fighter horned in, trying to outbid him for it. Kev objected.
