The Hidden City (35 page)

‘And if I don't?'

Milanis shrugged. ‘His Majesty will abrogate the alliance and make a full report of what you people have been doing – and what you're planning to do – to the Tamul Ambassador.'

‘I see that the old saw about the stupidity of trusting an Arjuni still holds true.'

‘Just do as you're told, Parok,' Milanis snapped. ‘Don't bore me with all these tedious protests and racial slurs. Don't make any blunders here, old boy. His Majesty's report to the ambassador has already been written. All he requires is an excuse to send it across town.'

A servant entered with a flagon and a tray of wineglasses, and Ulath took advantage of the open door to slip from the room. It was going to take a while to round up Tynian and Bhlokw, and then they were going to have to compose a fairly extensive message to Aphrael.

After he had slipped out of the house, however, Sir Ulath very briefly indulged himself. He leapt high into the air with a triumphant bellow, smacking his hands together with glee. Then he composed himself and went looking for his friends.

The black-armored Sir Heldin returned to rejoin Patriarch Bergsten at the head of the column.

‘Any luck?' Bergsten asked him.

Heldin shook his head. ‘Sir Tynian was very thorough,' he rumbled in his deep basso. ‘He winnowed through the ranks of the Pandion Order like a man panning for gold. I think he took just about everybody who can even
pronounce
the Styric language.'

‘You
know the spells.'

‘Yes, but Aphrael can't hear me. My voice is pitched too low for her ears.'

‘That raises some very interesting theological points,' Bergsten mused.

‘Could we ponder them some other time, your Grace? Right now we have to get word of what happened in Zemoch to Sparhawk and Vanion. The war could be over by the time Ambassador Fontan's messengers reach them.'

‘Talk with the other orders, Heldin,' Bergsten suggested.

‘I don't think it would work, your Grace. Each order works through the personal God of the Styric who taught them the secrets. We have to get word to Aphrael.
She's
the one who's perched on Sparhawk's shoulder.'

‘Heldin, you spent too much time practicing with your weapons during your novitiate. Theology
does
have a purpose, you know.'

‘Yes, your Grace,' Heldin sighed, rolling his eyes upward and bracing himself for a sermon.

‘Don't do that,' Bergsten told him. ‘I'm not talking about
Elene
theology. I'm talking about the misguided beliefs of the Styrics. How many Styric Gods are there?'

‘A thousand, your Grace,' Heldin replied promptly. ‘Sephrenia always made some issue of that.'

‘Do these thousand Younger Gods exist independently of each other?'

‘As I understand it, they're all related – sort of like a family.'

‘Amazing. You
did
listen when Sephrenia was talking to you. You Pandions all worship Aphrael, right?'

‘ “Worship” might be too strong a term, your Grace.'

‘I've heard stories about Aphrael, Heldin,' Bergsten smiled. ‘She has a private agenda. She's trying to steal the whole of human-kind. Now then, I'm a member of the Genidian Order.' He paused. ‘I was,' he corrected himself. ‘We make our appeals to Hanka; the Cyrinics work through Romalic; and the Alciones deal with Setras. Do you imagine that in their misty heaven somewhere above the clouds these Styric Gods might now and then talk with each other?'

‘Please don't beat me over the head, Bergsten. I overlooked something, that's all. I'm not stupid.'

‘Never said you were, old boy.' Bergsten smiled. ‘You just needed spiritual guidance, that's all. That's the purpose of our Holy Mother. Come to
me
with your spiritual problems, my son. I will gently guide you – and if guidance doesn't work, I'll take my axe and drive you.'

‘I see that your Grace adheres to the notion of the Church Muscular,' Heldin said sourly.

‘That's
my
spiritual problem, my son, not yours. Now go find an Alcione. Legend has it that Aphrael and Setras are particularly close. I think we can count on Setras to pass things along to his thieving little cousin.'

‘Your Grace!'
Heldin protested.

‘The Church has had her eye on Aphrael for centuries, Heldin. We know all about your precious little Child Goddess and her tricks. Don't let her kiss you, my friend. If you do, she'll pinch your soul while you're not looking.'

There were a dozen wobbly ox-carts this time, all heavily laden with beer barrels, and Senga had recruited several dozen of Narstil's shabby outlaws to assist him in guarding and dispensing his product. Kalten had rather smoothly insinuated Caalador and Bevier into the company.

‘I still think you're making a mistake, Senga,' Kalten told his good-natured employer as their rickety cart jolted along the rough jungle path toward Natayos. ‘You've got a complete lock on the market. Why lower your prices?'

‘Because I'll make more money if I do.'

That doesn't make sense.'

‘Look, Col,' Senga explained patiently, ‘when I came here before, I only had one cart-load of beer. I could get any price I asked, because my beer was so scarce.'

‘I guess that makes sense.'

‘I've got an almost unlimited supply now, though, so I'm making my profit on volume instead of price.'

‘That's what doesn't make sense.'

‘Let me put it this way. Which would you rather do – steal ten crowns from one man or a penny from each of ten thousand men?'

Kalten did some quick counting on his fingers. ‘Oh,'
he said. ‘Now I see what you're driving at. Very shrewd, Senga.'

Senga puffed himself up a little. ‘It never hurts to think long-range, Col. My real concern is the fact that it's not really all that hard to make beer. If some clever fellow's got a recipe, he could set up his own brewery right here. I don't want to get involved in a price war just when things are starting to go well for me.'

They had left Narstil's camp at daybreak, and so it was mid-morning when they reached Natayos. They passed unchallenged through the gates, rumbled by the house with barred windows, and set up shop again in the same square as before. As Senga's closest associate, Kalten had been promoted to the position of Chief of Security. The reputation for unpleasantness he had established early on in Narstil's camp ensured that none of the outlaws would question his orders, and the presence of Bevier, patch-eyed, lochaber-armed, and obviously homicidal, added to his authority.

‘We ain't likely t' accomplish too much here, Col,' Caalador muttered to Kalten as the two of them stood guard near one of the busy beer-carts. ‘Ol' Senga's so worried ‘bout some feller slippin' by ‘thout payin' that me'n you is tied down tighter'n a couple o' dawgs on short leashes.'

‘Wait until later, Ezek,' Kalten advised. ‘We'll be able to move around a little more freely after everybody gets drunk.'

Bevier slouched over to join them, his short-handled lochaber in his fist. People automatically got out of his way for some reason. ‘I just had a thought,' he said.

‘You want to kill somebody?' Kalten suggested.

‘Be serious, Col. Why don't you take your friend Senga aside and suggest that he set up a permanent establishment here in Natayos? It's the logical thing to do, and it'd give the three of us an excuse to stay here.
If we cleaned out one of these ruined buildings and opened a tavern, we could stay here and run it. It makes more sense than selling beer off the tail-gate of an ox-cart.'

‘He's got hisself a point there, Col,' Caalador said. ‘Ol' Shallag here, he
looks
like he drinks blood for breakfast, but his head's still a-workin' in back o' that there eye-patch.'

Kalten thought about it. ‘It
would
set us up right here in Natayos, wouldn't it? We'd be able to keep an eye on things.' He looked around. ‘Senga's a little worried that somebody here might start his own brewery,' he said for the benefit of nearby soldiers. ‘If the three of us are right here, we could probably persuade anybody who does that to take up another hobby. I'll go talk with Senga and see what he thinks of the notion.'

He found his good-natured friend sitting at a makeshift table behind one of the ox-carts. The outlaw was counting money with an almost dreamy expression on his face. ‘Oh, this is just
fine,
Col,' he almost crooned.

‘They're only pennies.'

‘I know, but there are so
many
of them.'

‘Shallag came up with an idea.'

‘He wants to thin out the crowd by hacking the head off every third man in line?'

‘Shallag's not really
that
bad.'

‘Oh, really? Every man in camp has nightmares about him.'

‘He hasn't killed a single man since he came to Arjuna.'

‘He's saving up. He's just biding his time until he can gather up a few thousand of us all together and kill all of us at once.'

‘Do you want to listen to his idea, or haven't you finished making bad jokes yet?'

‘Sorry. Go ahead.'

‘He thinks we ought to clean out one of these empty ruins and set up a permanent tavern.'

‘You mean like a real business? With a counter and tables and chairs and all that?'

‘Why not? Now that your brewer's working full time, you've got access to a steady supply, and this is where your customers are. If you set up shop here, you can sell beer all day every day instead of just coming here once a week. Then your customers would come to you in manageable numbers instead of by the regiment.'

‘I never thought of it,' Senga admitted. I just thought I'd make a quick profit and then run for the border. I could set up a real tavern here, Col – a real, honest-to-God legitimate business. I wouldn't have to steal any more.'

‘I've seen your price-list, Senga. Don't worry. You're still stealing.'

Senga ignored him. ‘Maybe I could call it “Senga's Palace”,' he said in a dreamy tone of voice. He frowned. ‘No,' he decided. ‘That's a little too flashy for a beer-tavern. I think I'll just call it “Senga's”. That'd definitely be a more lasting memorial than just a grave marker with the date when I got hung carved on it.' Then he shook his head and sighed. ‘No, Col,' he said regretfully. ‘It wouldn't work. If I took you and my other guards out of here, Scarpa's soldiers would just march in and drink up all my beer without paying.'

‘Why take us out, then? We can stay right here and make sure they pay.'

‘I'm not sure Narstil would like it if we didn't go back to camp at night.'

‘Senga,' Kalten said gently, ‘do you really need Narstil any more? You're an honest businessman now. You shouldn't be associating with bandits.'

Senga laughed. ‘You're coming at me a little too fast,
Col. Give me some time to adjust my thinking,' Then he suddenly swore.

‘What's wrong?'

‘It's a beautiful idea, Col, but it won't work.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I'll need Scarpa's permission to set up shop here, and I'm not going to go anywhere near him to ask for it.'

‘I don't think you'll have to, my friend. I went rummaging around through those heaps of trash in Narstil's camp yesterday, and guess what I found?'

‘What?'

‘A very fancy, silver-mounted cask of Arcian red. It's even equipped with a silver spigot. The fellow who stole it didn't know how much it was worth – he's a beer man. I got it off him for half a crown. I'll sell it to you, and you can make a present of it to that Krager fellow. Why don't we let him persuade Scarpa to give you permission to go into business here?'

‘Col, you're a genius! What'll you take for that cask of Arcian red?'

‘Oh – five crowns, I guess.'

‘Five crowns?
Ten times what you paid for it? That's robbery!'

‘You ought to know, Senga. You're my friend, but business is business, after all.'

They found the bleary-eyed Krager sitting on a broken wall watching the crowd of thirsty soldiers in the square without much interest. He held a tankard in one hand, and he drank from it occasionally with obvious distaste.

‘Ah, there you are, Master Krager,' Senga said jovially. ‘Why don't you dump out that slop and try a sup of this?' He patted the ornate wine cask he was carrying under one arm.

‘More local swill?' Krager asked.

‘Try it and see what you think,' Senga suggested.

Krager emptied his wine out on the ground and held out his pewter tankard. Senga turned the handle of the silver spigot and dribbled about a half a cupful of Arcian red into it.

Krager squinted into his mug and sniffed at it suspiciously. Then his eyes rolled up ecstatically. ‘Oh, dearie, dearie me!' he breathed in a reverent tone of voice. He took a small sip and actually seemed to quiver with delight.

‘I thought you might like it,' Senga said. ‘Now that I've got your attention, I've got a business proposition for you. I'd like to set up a permanent tavern here in Natayos, but I'll need permission to do that. I'd take it as a real favor if you could see your way clear to put in a good word for me with Lord Scarpa. I'd be very grateful to you if you can get his approval.'

‘How
grateful?' Krager asked quickly.

‘Probably about
this
grateful.' Senga patted the silver-mounted cask again. Tell Lord Scarpa that I won't cause any problems. I'll pick one of these empty buildings a little way off from his main camp and clean it out and fix the roof my very own self. I'll provide my own security and make sure that none of his soldiers gets
too
drunk.'