Emperor and Clown (25 page)

Inos
shivered. “The wardens?”

The
senator shrugged. “Perhaps. To use sorcery within Emine’s Rotunda, so close to
the throne ... that would be either an act of the Four, or of a total madman.”

“Kalkor?
You are saying that Kalkor is a sorcerer?”

“I
am saying nothing. It is only rumor. But Angilki was probably about to withdraw
from the contest, and Kalkor seems to want the battle. That man is either quite
mad to come to Hub, or else he has a means of escape that the regent has not
counted on.” Epoxague smiled grimly as he rose from his chair. “Or both?”

The
lamps burned late that night in the Epoxague mansion. Inos had not been
introduced to all the people present. Some were undoubtedly relatives, others
must be political cronies and advisors. At least one was a marquis, but
nobility was of much less weight in Hub than in the rest of the Impire. What
counted in the capital was influence, and a senator had plenty of that.
Epoxague held several hereditary titles, but he did not bother to use them, and
he dominated all the others present. They sat in rows and listened in silence.
A few were women, and Eigaze was there, near her father.

Surprisingly,
so also was the chinless young tentpole they all addressed as Tiffy, who had
turned out to be Eigaze’s eldest son. Out of uniform he seemed even younger and
cheekier, and at dinner he had attempted to flirt with Inos in flagrant
defiance of Azak’s murderous glares-conscious of her ravaged face, she had been
grateful for his efforts. Like the rest of the company, he now listened in
deferential silence.

The
senator sat in front, occasionally sipping at well-watered wine. Inos and Azak
had been placed on a sofa facing this formidable audience, and Inos talked.

She
told the whole story, in as much detail as, she could recall. She even told
things that Azak had never heard-about the magic casement, and Rap, and the
prophecies. She told of the curse, which he had forbidden her to mention. She
did not mention her own word of power, which she was beginning to think was a
myth. On only one point did she fudge the truth, and then she thought she saw
the senator raise his eyebrows a fraction, as if he could hear the difference,
like one off-key string in an orchestra. Rap, she said, had died of his wounds.
To brand Azak as a murderer would be betrayal, and she had sworn to be faithful
to him.

Azak
was still and silent as a marble statue. He was seeing the enemy in its lair,
some of the most powerful people in the Impire, and she knew it must be a
climactic experience for him. Whether he was impressed or disgusted she could
not tell, but Azak understood the ways of power, and he must be noting and
learning. A wise man knows his enemy.

The
room was large and opulent. Crystal mirrors and fine porcelain gleamed amid
fine furniture, and yet there was a patina of age on everything; the rugs were
starting to show wear and the ceiling friezes were yellowed above the sconces.
This was not the sparkling-new decor of Kinvale nor yet the sunlit splendor of
Arakkaran; this was old wealth, sure of itself, long established and deeply
rooted in the governance of the greatest state in Pandemia.

Finally
she came to the end, her throat sore with talking. She took a long drink. The
candles had burned low. Her scabbed face throbbed, and she feared that the
paint had started to flake off it, in which case she must look like a gargoyle.
Perhaps in time she would learn to live with disfigurement.

It
would not be easy, though.

“I
think I have only one question,” the senator said. “When exactly did your
father die? On what day did this sorceress abduct you?”

“I’m
not sure,” Inos said. “We had been traveling the taiga for weeks, and I’d lost
track of time. Azak When did I arrive in Arakkaran?”

“The
day after the Festival of Truth. I believe you honor the same day, your
Eminence.”

Epoxague
nodded. “Any other queries?” he asked. Although he did not turn, the question
was obviously addressed to the audience at his back.

Silence.

At
last Tiffy spoke up. He was by far the youngest, and his intervention was
therefore so unlikely that he must have been rehearsed beforehand. “How closely
is her Majesty related to us, Grandfather?”

Tension
reared-silent and invisible, and yet so palpable that Inos thought the candles
flickered. Epoxague stroked his mustache.. And then he said, “Not close as his
Grace of Kinvale-but close enough.” It was acceptance. Despite the danger she
brought, the quiet little man was saying he would not throw her out in the
street, and he had made the decision on behalf of the whole clan. That showed
real power, she thought. A faint shimmer ran through the audience, a sifting of
feet, a drawing of breath, as the minds worked over the problem.

And
the senator now looked to Azak. “My house is honored to have such a guest, your
Majesty.”

Azak
released a very long sigh and seemed to sink lower in the sofa. “The honor is
entirely mine, your Eminence.”

Inos
glanced sideways at him. He was a very astonished djinn.

“Your
position is difficult,” Epoxague said. “Both your positions) The King and Queen
of Arakkaran and Krasnegar? I have heard of far-flung realms, but never one so
far-flung as that.”

The
audience smiled uneasily. He had identified the ultimate impossibility: Azak
and Inos could not rule both kingdoms. One or the other must be dispossessed.

“Boji,”
the senator said, without turning, “how long since the Right of Appeal was
invoked?”

“Last
dynasty,” a grizzled, heavyset man grunted. “Hundred years or more.”

“Tomorrow,”
the senator told Azak, “I must present you to the regent. Until that is done,
you are in some danger-and my own position is ambivalent.” Azak nodded. “I
appreciate that.”

“And
the best excuse for your presence in Hub is an Appeal to the Four.”

The
sultan squirmed-Inos had never seen him so discomfited. “I had hoped that a
private approach to one of the wardens-”

Epoxague
shook his head. Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Which one? Obviously
Olybino is unthinkable. He is not only the power behind the legions, he is
already involved in this affair somehow. Bright Water is ... unpredictable; and
she also must be involved, for East certainly tried to protect the troops on
that disastrous retreat from Krasnegar, and he was blocked. Only the witch of
the north could have done that, up there. What she wants, I do not know. Maybe
she worries only about Krasnegar, and not Arakkaran. Lith’rian, also, has been
meddling in your realm, and I cannot guess what his interest is, except that
warlocks sometimes play games with us mundane mortals. And elves do not think
like other people,” he added sourly.

Inos
was enthralled. Here, at last, was a man who knew something about the shadowy
wardens and their secret ways. Some of what he was saying she had heard before,
but for months she had wanted to hear it from someone who could speak with
authority.

“West?”
Azak muttered when the senator did not continue.

The
caution became more marked. “Ah! We know very little about Warlock Zinixo. He
is no older than Tiffy here, and new to his office. So far he has been very
inconspicuous. When he succeeded, he refused the traditional address of welcome
from the Senate. He did not appear at the regent’s confirmation.”

After
a pause for thought, Epoxague added, “All dwarves tend to be distrustful; he
seems to have that caginess to an unusual degree. There is no doubt that South
hates him. Elves cannot abide dwarves, and vice versa. When Zinixo struck down
Ag-an, then Lith’rian and Olybino together tried to blast him on the spot.”
Someone coughed warningly.

The
little man did not turn. “I have that on the highest authority,” he said
calmly.

That
was news to some of his audience, at least. Bland faces registered surprise.
Lips pursed and glances flickered. The little man ignored them.

“So
West has good reasons to fear the others. Bright Water may be his ally-at
times, but who would rely on such an ally?”

“Besides,’.”
he concluded, “you have a very beautiful young wife, your Majesty. I recommend
that you do not ask favors of Warlock Zinixo.”

Azak
flushed and scowled at Inos.

Epoxague
glanced over his shoulder, as if to include the other listeners. “Can anyone
fault my logic? I can’t see a private appeal working at all. Anyone disagree?”
No one disagreed.

Azak
scowled. “Why should an appeal to the Four be any better, then? My case is
hopeless!”

Was
he only concerned by the thought of his curse being discussed in public, or did
he fear that the wardens might give Krasnegar precedence over Arakkaran and
order him off there to be husband to the queen? Inos could not ignore a tiny
shoot of hope sprouting in her heart. She was stuck with Azak until death, and
she would make the best of him; but Azak in Krasnegar would be a sight easier
to live with than Azak in Arakkaran.

“Shaky,
but not quite hopeless, perhaps,” Epoxague said. “Put them all together, as the
Council of Four, and they may remember their responsibilities. They have a duty
to suppress political use of sorcery. They will wish to uphold the Protocol,
for it also guards them from one another. So they may well agree to cure your
curse, heal your wife, and spirit you back to your realm. It would be an easy
demonstration of their powers. Ashlo, what do you think?”

“It
is possible, your Eminence,” said the one who Inos thought was a marquis. “The
best bet under the circumstances, I should say. Collectively they often cancel
out one another’s petty schemes.”

The
heavy man addressed as Boji cleared his throat. “The regent will have a vote if
they split.”

Epoxague
and some of the others chuckled, sharing some political thought they preferred
to leave unspoken. The senator turned his bright eyes on Inos.

“You
also must be presented, and as soon as possible. You realize that you are in
extreme danger, even here, now?”

“Er
... no !” Inos said, shocked. She had been feeling more relaxed than she had in
months, euphoric almost.

Epoxague
smiled grimly. “A warlock reported you were dead. If you appear in public, he
will be shown up as either a liar or a fool.”

She
nodded dumbly, deeply shaken. She should have seen that!

“So
we must make you appear in public, and as soon as possible! Can you think of
any way in which Kalkor can have learned of the vision you saw in the casement?”

“No,
your Eminence.”

“Mmm.
But I think he must have.” The little man rubbed his chin. “Something he said
today ... He did not expect that duel to be fought against a troll, nor against
Angilki. Perhaps Bright Water told him. He is one of hers, you know-a jotunn raider.
She has always had a goblin fascination with death and suffering. You are
certain that the Rap man is dead?” His eyes were sharp as rapiers.

Inos
looked to Azak. Let him answer this one!

“I
saw him the night we left, Eminence. Gangrene had set in. It was incredible
that he was still alive at all. I am sure he could not have survived another
day.”

At
least he had not been hypocritical enough to express regret, but the senator
was studying him closely.

He
must be able to guess how Azak had felt toward the man who had disrupted his
wedding.

And
now he was frowning. “Well, you must be presented at court, Inos. Tomorrow.”

The
Boji man coughed. “I hope you’ll warn himsend a note to let the regent know
what you’re going to spring on him.”

“I
daren’t!” Obviously worried now, Epoxague uncrossed his legs and crossed them
the other way. “If East finds out that Inosolan is in Hub, then she will not be
in Hub, and Gods know where she may be, alive or dead. Ashlo, you’ll see
Ythbane before any of us. Could you drop him a warning that I’m going to dump a
load of garden grower on him, but without being specific? At least he’ll know
to have a smile handy.”

The
marquis muttered his compliance, not looking very happy at the prospect. Again
Inos felt impressed by the senator’s power.

He
sighed. “Olybino’s not the only one who’s going to be embarrassed. Ythbane will
have to withdraw recognition of our unfortunate cousin as King of Krasnegar. Of
course Kalkor will then withdraw his challenge to Angilki and that is good,
with this scent of sorcery in the air ... except that Kalkor . . .”

His
frown twinkled into a smile. “How fast can you run, Inos? I wonder what it
costs to hire Mord? Cousin Azak, in the interests of economy, would you
consider taking on the thane as your wife’s champion?”

He
wielded humor with a sharp edge. It isolated Azak as the stranger, the
barbarian warrior in a room full of urbane politicos-and it raised again the
ultimate impossibility of uniting two kingdoms at the opposite ends of the
world; it asked Azak to decide between them.

The
barbarian was subtle enough to see all that. He clenched his jaw, and the room
waited.

Inos
knew what was coming. It was inevitableand it was also horribly logical and
reasonable. Who could choose the barren arctic rock over the jewel on the
Spring Sea?

“I
think my wife must relinquish her claim.” Everyone looked to Inos. Abdication?
That would solve the regent’s problem and might therefore save Epoxague himself
considerable trouble. Abdication was implicit in her marriage to Azak. She had
promised her father-but then she had promised Azak later, and the God of
Wedlock, also. And she did not know if her kingdom would accept her, or if
Nordland ever would, or even how much kingdom the imps had left for her.

And
yet that tiny sprout of hope had not withered yet. This was certainly her last
chance to see Krasnegar again, and she was not going to throw it away until she
must.