Emperor and Clown (23 page)

Char
took two more blows in silence, then he began to cry out. Azak growled
wordlessly.

“Ready
to talk?” asked the tribune.

“You
will regret this!”

“Carry
on, Centurion. Don’t be so squeamish.”

“Look!”
the ineffectual little civilian said.

Inos
looked. The man was still standing by the window, and must have been staring
out of it for the same reason she had been keeping her eyes closed.

“A
carriage with armorial bearings has just driven in, Tribune. And its outriders
are Praetorian Hussars.”

“God
of Torment!” the tribune said.

It
still wasn’t quite settled. The hussar who exchanged salutes with the tribune
was several ranks lower, but he was young and glamorous and supremely satisfied
with himself and the status that came with his plumed helmet. He was very tall
and almost chinless, but any man who could win his way into the Praetorians had
great influence to start with, and just being a Praetorian gave him much
more--he was almost certainly a future lictor, at least. There was very little
fight left in the tribune.

But
the passenger in the coach was no senator, merely a portly, well-dressed lady
who looked aston ishingly like a younger version of Aunt Kade. Swathed in warm,
soft furs, she directed a cold, hard stare at the rain-soaked waif standing in
the mud beside the carriage, surrounded by troops.

“You
know this woman, ma’am?” the tribune asked glumly.

“No.”

He
brightened. “No?”

“She
wrote to my father, claiming to be related to us, but neither of us has ever
met her. Moreover, the person she claims to be has been reported on unim
peachable authority to be dead.”

The
tribune beamed.

The
chinless young hussar frowned silently. He had obviously decided that he
approved of Inos, despite her disgustingly bedraggled condition. “Can you prove
who you are, miss?”

Azak
burned in silence in the background.

“I
am Inosolan of Krasnegar, and this must be Lady Eigaze.”

In
the coach, the dumpy lady lowered her eyebrows skeptically. “My name is hardly
a secret.”

“Kade
has told me much about you.”

“For
example?”

“You
spent a summer at Kinvale, and won the heart of a young hussar by the name of
... Ionfer, I think.”

“My
husband is Praetor Ionfeu. You will have to do better than that.”

“Well,
she also mentioned a certain spinet recital where the spinet would not stay in
tune, possibly because of a hedgehog crawling around its insides. And a covered
soup tureen, which, when the footman lifted the lid in front of Ekka-”

“Inosolan!”
the woman shrilled. “Whatever happened to your face, child!” She came stumbling
down the steps in the rain and threw her arms around Inos.

“May
the Gods be with you next time, Tribune,” the brash young hussar remarked in a
pleased voice.

Kade
habitually made pretense of being scatterbrained. Her former protege, Lady
Eigaze, carried imitation to the point of parody; she maundered and sniggered
and prattled. But she was a senator’s daughter and had a will of her own when
she chose to show it. One glimpse of the battered and bleeding Char was enough
to slide the velvet hand into the iron glove. Her flabby form seemed to stiffen
into muscle, and she glanced up meaningfully at her bold escort.

“Tiffy,
darling?” she murmured dangerously. “Do something?”

He
beamed at the tribune. “Sir,” he said ...

Then
the full weight of the Imperial establishment came crashing down on that
unfortunate officer. He found himself requisitioning a coach and rushing off in
person with his victim to the finest military hospital in Hub, with Varrun
along as a witness, and under strict orders to report in person to the Lady
Eigaze before the sun set, lest his career be permanently blighted.

The
lady was tough. When Inos presented a gigantic barbarian as her husband, Sultan
Azak of Arakkaran, Eigaze smiled without a blink and offered her fingers to be
kissed. Azak excused himself on the grounds that he was too travel-soiled to
touch her.

And
when Inos protested that she also was unfit even to enter the senator’s grand
coach with its fine poplin upholstery, Eigaze again snapped her fingers to
bring forth a miracle. The Number One Post Inn produced hot tubs and soft
towels and clean raiment. Inos felt her head swim at the sudden release of
tension. The ensuing meal was the finest she had eaten in weeks, and yet all
she could register was the unending stream of babbling nonsense proceeding from
her distant cousin, and the expression of astonishment and reluctant respect on
Azak’s shiny-clean, fresh-shaven features.

But
when those formalities where over, when Inos and Azak had been installed on the
green poplin up holstery and space found on the back for Jarkim between the
footmen-then Lady Eigaze settled down to some ladylike chatter that concealed
more serious purpose. The Praetorian Hussars cleared a path through the
traffic, the carriage rumbled smoothly along, and Inos made a desperate effort
to pull her soaring wits back to earth. She was euphoric with a newfound sense
of freedom and escape; Azak must be feeling even more trapped than before. She
could tell that he was reviving all his dark suspicions of her motives. Now,
even more, it was Inos who held the cards, and he did not trust her not to
betray him.

“It
is, obviously, a very long and unlikely story, my lady-”

“Eigaze,
dear.”

“Eigaze.
It might be easier if you just told me how much you know first, and then I can
add the rest.”

“Inos,
dear, now I think I know almost nothing. The first thing we heard was that
there was trouble in northwest Julgistro last spring, with goblins raiding.
Father came back from the Senate one night absolutely livid! And then we heard
that your father had died. That much is true?”

“Yes,”
Inos agreed, that much was true.

Eigaze
muttered condolences. “And that you and Kade had gone off back to Krasnegar
with a military escort. Then the escort was ambushed on its return, and there
were terrible stories of atrocities. The Senate . . . You can imagine! Goblins!
Worse than gnomes, even! The Impire has never, ever, had trouble with goblins
before. Of course Father and I were concerned, and we wrote to Ekka. And then
came word that you and your aunt were dead!”

“Who,”
Inos asked. intently, “said so?”

“The
imperor, dear. It was in his report to the Senate. Of course he’d told Father
earlier, being a relative of sorts-usual courtesy. He told him he got it from
Warlock Olybino.”

“Aha!”
Inos said, and exchanged glances with Azak. Suddenly things began to seem much
clearer. Olybino had failed to purchase Inos from Rasha-or steal her, perhaps,
if he had tried that also. So he had just made the problem disappear by
reporting that she had died. Who would question the word of a warlock? So then,
when Inos had turned up in Ullacarn, she could no longer be of any use to him,
and he had just sent her back to Rasha. Aha indeed!

“And
what did the imperor decide to do about Krasnegar?” Inos asked, before her
hostess could fire another round of questions. The carriage was racing along a
wide avenue lined with glorious buildings, and Inos knew vaguely that she
wanted to gape at them like a tourist, but she also knew that this was not the
time to indulge in sight-seeing.

Eigaze
frowned. “I think that was after his Majesty’s health began to fail. Consul
Ythbane ... he’s regent now, of course ... he proposed that since the direct
line had died out-for Kadolan would have been next in line to you, of course-Angilki
had the best claim. But Krasnegar didn’t seem worth a war with Nordland, and
the Zark campaign was already scheduled, and the dwarves were starting to get
difficult, not to mention goblins. By that time we had received a reply from
Ekka, and Father was able to report that the duke would have no interest in
becoming a real ruler. So the compromise was that Angilki would have the
nominal title, and rule though a viceroy chosen by the thanes. The Nordland
ambassador agreed, and a memorandum was initialed.”

Lady
Eigaze’s wits were no dimmer than Kade’s, obviously.

“Very
convenient!” Inos muttered. “Except for the citizens of Krasnegar.”

“They’re
not the imperor’s responsibility, dear, unless you wish to declare that you
hold the kingdom in fief from him?”

“Certainly
not!” Inos said hurriedly. “Well, obviously the warlock was lying.”

Lady
Eigaze seemed to pale slightly, and coughed. “Even warlocks may make mistakes,
dear, sometimes, I suppose. And Kade, you say, is safe and sound, back in ...
er...”

“Arakkaran,”
said Azak.

“Thank
you.” She eyed this inexplicable savage with obvious bewilderment and then
chose a safer subject. “This is all quite extraordinary! Angilki knew nothing
of this at all !”

Inos
felt a quiver of premonition. “Angilki?”

“Oh
. . . of course you won’t know! He’s here in Hub, dear! He showed up two nights
ago in a terrible state.”

“Angilki?
The duke is here?”

“Why,
yes, dear. The regent summoned him when-but you can’t know that, either, I
suppose.” Lady Eigaze was starting to look worried. She reached in a locker and
produced a box of chocolates. “He has a broken ankle. Angilki, I mean. He had a
dreadful journey, poor man. And he’s not a duke, now, he’s King of ... Oh,
dear!”

“What
else don’t I know?” Inos demanded. “Have a chocolate? No? Your Majesty?”

Azak
declined. “Please just call me Azak,” he added, “as we are all family now.”

“Gods
bless my soul!” Eigaze muttered, and ate three chocolates in quick succession
without taking her eyes off him. Djinn relatives would not be welcome news in
Hub at the moment.

“Why
did the regent summon Angilki?” Inos asked determinedly.

“Because
of Kalkor, dear. He’s a Nordland thane-”

“I
know of Kalkor. He is another distant relation, extremely distant.” Inos
remembered the vision in the magic casement and grimaced. “In fact, I saw him
once. The more distant the better with that one! What of Kalkor?”

“He
is-Oh, Holy Balance!” Eigaze took another chocolate, and her eyes grew very
wide. “Darling, I may have made a serious error!”

“What
error?” Only years of dealing with Kade kept Inos from grabbing the woman by
her fat throat and shaking her.

“Well,
your letter arrived this morning, after Father had left for the palace. I didn’t
really believe that it was genuine, of course, so I didn’t send word to him. I nearly
didn’t come at all. I had to cancel a dress fitting. Oh, dear!”

Azak
was scowling. Inos could feel her heart pounding.

“What
about Kalkor, Eigaze?”

Two
more chocolates. . . “He is in Hub also! That’s what today’s court is all
about! He requested a safe conduct, and of course the regent granted it,
because he’ll never manage to escape again afterward, and he arrived a couple
of days ago, and that’s what today’s business is-Krasnegar! When Angilki
arrived at our house, Father sent word to the palace right away, and they came
and dragged the poor man out of bed in the middle of the night and hustled him
off . . .”

“Krasnegar?
Today?” Inos cried, feeling Azak’s eyes burning into her. “Should we go and--”

“Oh,
it’s too late now, dear! They’ll have started, and even I couldn’t get you in,
or even get word to Father now.”

“But
what does Kalkor want? Recognition of his claim?”

“Sure
you don’t want a chocolate? Nobody knows! The belief is that he’s totally
insane and wants to fight Angilki for the throne.”

“Fight
Angilki!” Inos remembered the deadly, muscled warrior she had seen in the
casement and the overweight, ineffectual duke. She started to laugh. The idea
of those two locked in battle was absurd.

“That’s
the only theory anyone’s come up with, darling!” Eigaze wailed softly and
popped the final chocolate in her mouth. “The jotnar have some ancient savage
ceremony to solve such disputes among themselves. They call it a Reckoning,
Father says.”

“A
fight with axes!” Inos sobered suddenly. The casement had prophesied a duel
with axes. But obviously, somewhere, the course of events had gone awry. Now it
was not she whom Kalkor was challenging, but Angilki.

And
Rap, who had been destined to be her champion, was dead.

Azak
was smiling.

Moms
had cut down Shandie’s medicine. She’d also found the spare bottle he’d hidden
under the dresser. He was starting to feel scratchy-twitchy already, and the
ceremony had barely started. Perspiration was running down his face, and it was
awesomely hard not to shiver. He tried to concentrate on what was going on, to
take his mind off his medicine.

The
King of Krasnegar had a cast on his foot, and he was fat. Managing a toga and a
crutch at the same time must be pukey difficult, but he looked as if he’d have
enough trouble managing either one by itself. Shandie didn’t think much of the
King of Krasnegar.

Shandie
didn’t approve of imps being kings, anyway. Imps owed their loyalty to the
imperor. Maybe dwarves or anthropophagi or people like that could have kings-he
hadn’t decided-but not imps. Still, this king was really only a duke, and he’d
just done homage for Kinvale to the regent, so that there wouldn’t be any
misunderstandings, and he’d looked very funny when two heralds had to help him
kneel down with his cast and his toga and his crutch.

He’d
had to read his speech, too! Disgusting!’ And he’d mumbled it so badly that no
one had heard him. If that was the King of Krasnegar, then Krasnegar had very
low standards. The fat man didn’t know a thing about court behavior. He’d been
given Consul Humaise as a sort of keeper, to stay close and whisper
instructions.