A Matter of Oaths (27 page)

If he waited for them to do it, he thought angrily. How
would Julur react if Braniya delivered a self-killed corpse? Although, he
realized as he thought about it further, there was nothing in the stateroom
with which killing himself would be easy or certain. He recoiled from the
grotesque self-mutilations that were his only choices if he wished to commit
suicide. And from the idea of giving in when there was still time left to
fight.

What did Julur want him for? Gods, it made no sense, that
the Old Emperor had broken his Oath to the Guild for Rafe’s sake. If the truth
were ever discovered, the Guild could withdraw its Oath to Julur and their
services from his Empire. The chaos that would follow could topple Julur, which
was the real reason that the Emperors kept their Oaths. Even if the danger of
division within the Guild made it likely now that Julur would escape the full
consequences of his action, ten years ago when he had Rafe kidnapped he would
have had no such reassurance.

Somewhere in the missing memories between the F’sair warship
and waking as Rafell the Oath-breaker, a memory of Julur must be lurking. Of
Julur, of Braniya’s predecessor, of interrogation, of the process of
identity-wipe… No wonder he shrank from remembering that part, Rafe thought
ruefully.

Braniya had aroused no memories, or nothing specific, only the
odd certainty that she reminded him of somebody. He was probably thinking of
her dead predecessor, he decided sourly. Would meeting Julur trigger anything
fresh? A memory that gave the reason behind this inexplicable tangle? Joshim
had said that meeting somebody who figured in the missing memories could cause
them to return.

There was something that could be deduced from Julur’s
interest in him, he thought darkly, and that was that the New Emperor must have
a corresponding interest. Yuellin had been an aristo in the New Empire and the
head of a family; surely he must have met the New Emperor at some point in his
life. As a child, he had been presented for the Emperor’s acknowledgement as
the Buhklir heir. He strained to remember, but it was too long ago or too
unmemorable to the infant he had been; all he could recall was being dressed
with great precision by his nurse, and the stern back of his uncle preceding
him up an endless aisle. When he tried to remember another occasion he had been
at court, he failed.

Was that the pattern of the residual identity-wipe, he
thought excitedly. Did it cover the periods when he had visited the New
Imperial Palace? If Yuellin’s lover had been at court, Julur would have taken
extra trouble to erase those memories, to expunge everything to do with the
Emperor Ayvar.

His excitement faded as he realized that knowing the pattern
of the missing memories was no help in recovering them. There were a thousand
explanations he could invent for the pattern, and Joshim had warned him that
true memories were easily concealed by an overactive imagination. Rafe wished
miserably that Joshim was with him, to comfort him, to drive away the fear that
Braniya had sown so effectively. Still, if he could not have that comfort, he
could have the satisfaction of applying Joshim’s Aruranist techniques to
consolidate the memories he had and to chip away at the barriers remained.
Havedir
could not reach the Old Imperial
Palace in less than ten days, not when Julur’s paranoiac security stopped ships
from jumping into his defensive sphere. By the time Julur tried to steal his
identity again, Rafe swore he would have reclaimed it fully. And when he knew
what had happened to him in the Old Emperor’s hands last time, he would be
better prepared to change things this time. As long as he knew who he was, he
still had a chance.

Facial pattern HA-72541 matched on
entry at Main shuttleport. Subject identifies self as Guild Webmaster Joshim,
accompanied by Guild Commander Rallya. Webber status verified by bio-probe. Routine
surveillance continues.

 
“We’re being
followed,” Joshim said without warning. “Tall, dark haired woman, yellow-brown
skin, deep brown tunic. At the top of the steps now.”

Rallya squinted in the bright sunshine, looking along the
trackcar platform for the woman that he described and cursing the milling crowd
of tourists blocking her view. Everything on New Imperial was hidden behind a
crowd of tourists, or else — like the New Emperor — swaddled in layers of
equally impenetrable bureaucracy. But at least the bureaucracy could be
bypassed, or would be when Rallya had her way. The only good thing that could be
said for the tourists was that they allowed her and Joshim to move anonymously
around the city. And if Joshim was right, they were not even doing that
effectively.

“She’s out of sight now,” Joshim said. “She’ll pick us up
again down on the street.”

“Are you sure she’s following us?” Rallya asked sceptically.

“Certain,” Joshim insisted. “She was outside the hotel when
we left. She didn’t get onto that trackcar until she was sure we were taking
it. She waited until we got off before she did. And she watches everyone around
her all the time. With the notable exception of us. Every time she looks at us,
her eyes skid past as if we were greased.”

Rallya grunted less doubtfully. Even distracted with worry
about Rafe, Joshim could be trusted to notice a detail like that, and to
interpret it correctly. But, if they were being followed, who had arranged it? Nobody
should have been able to guess where
Bhattya
had gone after Central. Nobody should have been able to locate them so quickly
on New Imperial, unless they had been spotted at the shuttleport when they
arrived. And if that was the case, the place was more thoroughly riddled with
Julur’s agents than Rallya had expected. They were right to be avoiding the
official channels for contacting Ayvar, the channels that would have carried
their request to every interested ear in the Palace. Safer — and quicker — to
find somebody to help cut through the bureaucracy and get them a secret
audience with the New Emperor. Yuellin’s lover or his cousin, once either had
been identified. If one of them could be trusted — and if the presence of the
woman following them had not changed everything.

What instructions had Julur’s agents been given about
Bhattya
, and when? Braniya must have
sent a warning to watch for
Bhattya
before she left Central; the woman deserved credit for covering all the
options, Rallya admitted grudgingly. The important question was whether she had
issued instructions only to watch and report, or orders to prevent them from
making contact with Ayvar.

“Is she alone?” she asked Joshim as they took the steps down
to street level themselves.

“I’ve not seen anyone else.”

“Hmm.” If Joshim said she was alone, she
was
alone. Which suggested that she only
held a watching brief; that Braniya had not guessed their intention when she
issued her orders. So, they were in no immediate danger. And if they could
dislodge the spy or distract her, maybe they could still accomplish what they
came to do.

When they reached the street, the woman was examining the
fruit in a street vendor’s booth a few paces away. As they passed, she glanced
up to watch them in the mirror behind the display of fruit. A few moments to
let them get a safe distance ahead and she would be in place behind them again,
Rallya judged. Did she know she had been spotted? If she was wearing an audiohancer,
she must know, but in the crowd of tourists an audiohancer would be a
liability. Even if she did know and had called for help, it would not arrive in
time to forestall what Rallya planned.

“Let’s get something to drink,” she said, leading Joshim
into the nearby eating-house which occupied the ground floor of one of the
massive creamstone buildings that formed the heart of the city. Inside, she
chose a booth screened by the greenery that New Imperial’s citizens miserably
failed to keep in its proper place, out of doors: let the woman read their lips
through that!

Joshim gave their order to the table attendant and sat back,
glancing significantly at the choice of exits. The woman entered and took a
booth that would allow her to see when they left but not close enough to draw
their attention. She did not know she had been spotted, Rallya decided with
satisfaction, or was not sure of it.

The drinks arrived, refreshing in the morning heat. Rallya
waited for the attendant to withdraw, then said, “We leave here one at a time
in different directions. She’ll have to choose one of us to follow. Whoever it
is takes her on a fool’s errand.” She scowled, reckoning that as Commander, she
would be the one condemned to a wasted day. But Joshim knew more of Yuellin’s
history, would be more competent than she was to do the research that needed to
be done. And with Rafe’s life at stake, she could rely on him to be wary about
whom he approached for help. “The other goes on with our original plan. We meet
up again this evening at the hotel.” And be careful; no need to add that.

“If one of us goes missing?” Joshim asked bluntly.

“Scrap the plan and go for the direct approach,” Rallya told
him. “Make as much noise about it as possible. We’ll have lost the advantage of
secrecy anyway.” If one of them went missing, it would be because the watcher’s
role had changed; neither of them was a match for a professional assassin. She
was glad that she had left Vidar behind with
Bhattya
rather than bring him along to be yet another target. She
snorted angrily. If she was starting to congratulate herself on obvious
decisions like that, it was past time that they were moving.

* * *

 
“And here is the
Great Throne Room,” the guide announced, gesturing dramatically through a
enormous pair of double-height doors. “Here, the Emperor meets his subjects in
ceremonies going back to the dawn of the Empire. Masked, upon his Great Throne…”

Joshim tuned out the commentary as he followed the rest of
the tour party through the doors, a few paces behind his faithful shadow. He
wondered sourly if she was enjoying herself on the fool’s errand that Rallya
had called for, and also, angrily, why she had chosen to follow
him
. It was hard enough to know that
there was little he could do to help Rafe; it was unbearable to be prevented
from doing even that little.

Rallya would have reached the Imperial Archives by now,
might even have discovered the names they needed to know, be on her way to ask
for help from one of them. Rafe’s cousin probably. She would be the easiest to
find; New Imperial was the Buhklir homeworld and the Buhklir estate was on the
edge of the city. If Rallya had listened when she was told that Rafe had been
confident that his cousin could be trusted, they could have gone straight there
without wasting any time. Or one of them could, he reminded himself bitterly.

He glared round the cavernous room, remembering the role
that he was playing. Walls clad in fine mosaics and studded with precious
stones, a floor tiled with clouded crystal, and at the far end of the room, a
simple wooden throne raised on a dais and another pair of double-height doors. Beside
the dais, a pair of impassive guards stood, dressed in a ceremonial black and
silver livery and armed with far from ceremonial flash-swords. Two more guards
stood in front of the doors behind the dais, the four of them the only sign of
security Joshim had seen during the tour. Were they there to reinforce the
dignity of the throne, or were they guarding something else? The doors, of
course. The New Emperor would not enter his Throne Room through the public
halls; the doors behind the throne must lead to the inner palace.

Joshim crossed the floor to the foot of the dais. A pair of
children were standing there, daring each other to climb the steps to the
throne, apparently ignored by the guards. That would change as soon as one of
them plucked up courage, Joshim thought. He grinned as he watched the girl push
the boy — her brother, by the look of them — onto the first step. The nearest
guard moved, as if to warn them away, then looked at Joshim and, to his intense
interest, hesitated as if doubting his approval. Why should his presence and
apparent indulgence influence her?

“Come away from there!” the children’s escort called and
they went back to him guiltily. Joshim gave the guards another experimental
grin and was rewarded by a visible stiffening of their backs. They thought that
they recognized him, he realized excitedly. Who did they think he was? And more
importantly, where did they think he was allowed to go?

The guide was shepherding his charges out of the Throne
Room, promising them the delights of the Crown Jewels. Joshim’s shadow would
leave without a glance behind her, too cautious to betray herself by overt
interest and quite reasonably convinced that there was no way he could escape
her inside the palace. But if he could get through those double doors…
Although, what would he do if he could? Well, there was a way of finding out. And
the gods knew he had been praying for a chance to do something; they would not
offer it again if he refused it now.

He lingered until he was the last in the room, then walked
casually around the dais, jerked his head at the doors and raised his eyebrows
in what he hoped was an obvious gesture, not wanting to speak because his voice
might betray him. The guards at the door saluted smartly. One of them spoke a
word into the voice-lock, pressed his palm onto the contact pad; his companion
pulled the door open. Joshim nodded his thanks and walked through. The door
closed silently behind him.

To his relief, the wide corridor immediately in front of him
was empty. On either side of him, stairways led up; above him, the lowered
ceiling suggested a viewing gallery looking out over the Throne Room. He paused
to think. How far would his luck take him? Just entering the palace should
bring him quickly to the attention of a higher level of authority than he and
Rallya could have reached through the normal channels. Should he settle for
that, or should he try to reach the New Emperor? He laughed at his own
presumption. He could hardly wander unchallenged around the palace until he
found the man; his impersonation might have fooled the guards, but it would not
survive a sterner test.