The Return of Kavin (25 page)

Hugon drove through a twisting tunnel-like archway, and out into a broad square; ahead, the gates of what was certainly a drover’s inn, from the smell, opened on the square. He turned the cart that way, and heard Thuramon chuckle behind him.

“Much we’ve got to laugh about, wizard,” Hugon said. “That lizard fingered guard took all we had, did he not?”

“Of course not,” Thuramon said. “Even such gold as he thought he received was no more than an illusion, as he’ll find when he seeks it in his pouch.” Thuramon chuckled again, balefully. “But he went farther and took the leather sack, thinking there was more within. There is, but not gold.
No, not gold.”

Hugon steered the cart into the innyard and drew rein. He looked back, puzzled.

“I don’t understand the mazes you like so well, Thuramon,” he said. “If you’ve power to fool the man’s eye, why not give him as much as he wished, and have done?”

“It was necessary that he follow the path of his greed,” Thuramon said. “And in the matter of the sack… I work under a Law, master Hugon. It is a Law of Balances… and it forbids me to act as I sometimes desire. That man deserved what he has received, but he had first to seize his doom with his own hand, of his own will.”

“Balances?”
Hugon shrugged. “I can’t say I understand… and what doom, except for a notable shortage in his pocket?”

“I told you,” Thuramon said, with that unpleasant chuckle. “He will put his fingers into that sack, in search of gold. And he will find a small, very angry, scorpion.”

Hugon shuddered. “I see,” he said.

“This inn looks as though it might welcome customers,” Kavin said, swinging down off the cart. “Thuramon, I would prefer that you paid the innkeeper in true coin, if you will.”

“I always pay in true coin,” Thuramon said. “The scorpion was as true as any other coin, for value received.”

The palace of the late lord Barazan, now the property of his beautiful widow, was a great white pile of towers and domes behind a wall that encircled the whole noble quarter. There was a marble stairway that ran down into the lake from the
palace,
and in the lake beyond, the King’s House rose hugely on its island.

The message was delivered to the lady Gwynna, as she sat in her bath, a great shell of bronze in which water steamed. She had lolled in the hot water, sleepily; she had not found her bed till dawn, because the Emperor had caused a great celebration of nothing in particular, a feast that had gone on and on. She suspected that he had some twisted reason for the almost constant feasting that was going on, but she could not guess what.

The maid had gone in search of fresh towels while Gwynna lay luxuriating. She had few servants left; they were vanishing all over the city, it seemed, from every house.

Fraak sailed in, through the high window, and circled, to come to a landing on the bronze end of the tub; he stared down at her with his big yellow eyes, and uttered an appreciative cry.

“You!”
Gwynna said. Fraak chortled.

“You are pretty!” he said, and blew a smoke ring.

Gwynna already knew that. Fraak’s golden-eyed stare made her a trifle nervous, though; it was necessary to remind
herself
that he was a dragonet, not a man.

“Where’s Hugon?” she asked. “Is he here in the city?
The others, too?”

“He’s here,” Fraak sang. “He told me to say so, he did. I think you’re almost as pretty as the other lady.”

“What other lady?” Gwynna snapped. “Oh, never mind. And must you eye me so, you lecherous lizard?”

“I am NOT a lizard,” Fraak told her, sounding hurt. “Hugon and the others wait, at the great inn by the North Gate. They say that you may come after sunset.”

“Tell them I’ll be there,” Gwynna said. “Now go, quickly, or my maid will come back and think you’re some giant insect, perhaps.” She waved him off. “Go, shoo!”

The innyard was fairly crowded, as were the market squares beyond. But not as crowded as it had been in the time before the city lay under the lengthening shadows of siege. Still, a few farmers came with their produce, a few bold traders still brought goods; but only a handful, compared to the swarms that once came to the Imperial City. There were too many soldiers in the crowds, and not nearly enough folk with fat purses; and such coin as circulated was the dull metal of the new kind.

Torches flared, lighting various booths and flickering over the faces of people who came and went about the huge innyard, and in the market square outside it. In one place, a pair of acrobats skipped and tumbled on a rope; in another, a tent was up, and a fattish dancer revolved in front of it, while the proprietor spoke loudly of the unspeakable delights within. Other booths sold various and curious goods; everything from the brown and gummy candy that caused a delightful unconsciousness, called hashazz, to the weird erotic toys that seemed to please the yokels so much.

But there seemed to be little of any real value for sale, Hugon noticed. No cloth, and not much food; only one baker’s booth was open, and that held little of any value. Even the girls who plied their trade about the square, he noticed, were hardly as appetizing as he would have expected, in the great city. And there seemed to be an air of gloom, unexplained, because no one seemed to know much of how the wars went. There were a dozen tales, all different; the rebels had surrendered en masse, they had all taken ship for the west, or they had all been slain by a mighty attack of the Imperial forces. These tales were dispensed by many, usually persons with excellent and apparent reason for their inventions.

Some of the other tales seemed more likely, to Hugon. The rebel forces held a number of points south of the city, that was certain; and now, likely enough, large bodies of the rebels would be moving around, in a wide circle, to ultimately cut all the ways out. Now that there was no Imperial fleet, even the sea would be closed. The thought did not please Hugon greatly.

In the cart, the four had consulted together earlier, just as the night’s torches began to be lighted.

“I went to the shop in the street of weavers,” Hugon said, scowling, as he fiddled with a lute string. “The woman, Elanak… she was not there. Nor the boy, either.” He controlled his voice with difficulty. “That foul lump of toad’s excrement, the Emperor. He makes war on women and
children,
it seems, as a regular preference.”

“Where are they?” Kavin asked.

“In a prison, toward the sea wall,” Hugon said.
“If they live.
That harbor fortress is said to be a hellish place, where none live long; and daily, a few are brought forth for execution, as a few more are added.” He looked up, with a black glitter in his eye.
“Old men, women, and babies, most of them; any who may be denounced, for any reason.”

There was a grim silence in the darkened cart.

“Well,” Thuramon said, at last, “Fazakk’s woman is dead, or as good as dead, then. I wish we could have done his will in this, but we’ve other work that must be done swiftly…”

“No,” Hugon said, and Thuramon glanced at him, surprised.

“Our word was to help the woman flee the city, you’ll recall,” Hugon said, in a low, hard voice. “I do not know that she is
dead,
or the child either. Fazakk did his part of a bargain; I will do mine.”

“Listen, Hugon,” Thuramon began, “we must hasten,
I
tell you. Unless we lay hands upon the Egg of Fire within a few more days, the Gate will be complete, and Ess will be free to come forth.” In the shadows, Thuramon’s eyes glowed. “Then… such black evils as you cannot imagine will come with him. He has many servants, in many worlds, fools like this Emperor… but not all of them human fools. First, the Gate will vomit out those legions of his, and they will spread across this world, to make it theirs… and his. Then worse will come, till no man lives in the world any longer… and he will go through that Gate to yet other worlds.”

“I gave my word…” Hugon said, stubbornly. He shrugged. “Look you; I’ve heard other things about this city today. I think those gates may close at any moment. Rebel horsemen have been seen on the road north of the wall. Then we will be penned here, like rabbits in a hutch, plucked forth for dinner when the rebels choose. They may break in swiftly, at that, and all our problems solved at once.” He grinned in the shadows. “Suppose they do… why, their first troopers will push toward that imperial Treasure at once, as any man of sense would do. Break in, and see that jewel, too large for any one man. A blow or two with an axe edge, and it’s fair divided, and no more use at all to anyone.” Hugon chuckled. “Well, then, you’d be locked forevermore within this world, as you told us, Thuramon. Is it so bad a world as that, that you cannot make the best of it? And we have great need of wise men here, too.”

Hugan looked at Thuramon, who shook his head gloomily, and then at Kavin.

“But to destroy the Egg… whether we or another do so…” Hugon said, again, “Would that not accomplish all our ends, except yours, Thuramon… and absolve you of promises to Gwynna, as well?”

“To destroy that Egg?”
Thuramon shook his head again. “No. Fool, that crystal contains a power locked within it that would burn the whole world to a smoking cinder, release it thus. Nor would this world’s doom affect Ess; he has other ways, in time, to gain his freedom. Unless I lock him in forever…”

“So, I am wrong once more,” Hugon said with a shrug. “But I have my given word to think of.
And this tool-sack, Dragon gift.
Am I not thief-in-charge, official opener of locks, and the rest? And prisons have locks, I imagine.”

“That one has guards as well,” Zamor granted. “But I am with my brother Hugon, here. We were given passage by Fazakk’s wish. We said we would free his woman.”

“I must say so, too,” Kavin said. “We must find a way to do both tasks, then.”

Thuramon grunted sourly. “I am burdened by such henchmen as I wouldn’t wish upon an enemy,” he said. “Very well, then. But we must first speak with that lady, Gwynna, if she comes tonight; she will be our key to the King’s house.” He looked at Zamor. “Now, keep in mind, large one… that belt is as dangerous to you as it is to others. Use it sparingly, if at all.”

“Great Snake, I know that,” Zamor said. “On the one time I did use it, I was weary as a sick cat for hours afterward.” He stood up, his head bent under the low roof, and stretched. “I think I can do without its use, after seeing these weaklings hereabouts.
At least, most of the time.”

One by one, they climbed out, and began their preparations, under Thuramon’s direction. He had mapped each step with care, and nothing was left unconsidered; first, it would be necessary to become known, so that the Emperor’s spies would have a proper explanation of all they saw and heard. Gwynna would bring a new and entertaining group of mountebanks to show on the steps of the palace on the lake… or better still, in the King’s house itself. But they must be real, a troupe that had been seen and known already.

Gwynna came alone, wearing a hooded cloak, through the narrow alleys and streets of the dark city. She came into the square and moved quietly along the stalls, watching to find the four she sought. Then, at a distance, she saw them.

Zamor was standing, high on a platform, above the crowd’s heads; he lounged against a post, grinning with magnificent insolence at the upturned faces. He wore only a loincloth, and his shining black body was painted with strange stripes and slashes of color; in his hair, he wore a gaudy knot of feathers.

Hugon, in front of the platform, was bawling energetically over the shouts of other showmen and peddlers, as he walked to and fro.

“Look
ye,
look ye,” he was roaring. “The Mighty Mangier, Man of Iron, who has defeated every champion in nine kingdoms, offers to meet any brave lad who fancies his brawn, and give odds of ten to one, ten besans to your one, that you’ll not stay on your feet for the fall of the sandglass, here!”

Gwynna, in the shadows, watched as Zamor took a muscular farm lad in hand.
She suspected that he could have snapped the man’s spine in the first moment of their encounter, but he prolonged the bout with a showman’s instinct, to the last grain of sand in the glass. Then he pinned the lad down, with a triumphant shout.

Gwynna came closer, next to Hugon, as he continued to shout his challenge; she turned, enough to let him catch a glimpse of her face, hidden under the hood. He did not pause in his roaring for longer than it might have taken him to draw a deep breath; but in that space, he whispered, “The cart. Go there.”

She saw the painted wagon he had indicated, and went in that direction. As she came to it, a young pair emerged, a man and a girl with dazed, happy expressions, who passed her hand in hand.

Gwynna pushed aside the curtain and saw Thuramon, cowled, sitting over a low table, his hands folded. He looked up and smiled, with a curiously bitter look.

“I have been telling fortunes,” he said, and sighed.
“Lies, of course.
Those two have little joy before them… but I lied, so they are happy, for a little time.” He indicated a stool. “Sit, lady, and let’s lay plans.”

“You took long enough to come,” she said, staring at him. “I wonder if you know how black the future looks at this moment for all of us, soothsayer.”

“I know,” Thuramon said. “But there are things I do not know yet. Listen. We must gain access to the King’s house, in any way we can, and soon, very soon.”

“That might be possible,” she said, putting her chin on her knuckles, and staring down in deep thought. After a while, she nodded. “Yes, it may be… but you wish to steal the Egg of Fire, as you told me, in Koremon. I must tell you… that may not be possible.”

“Possible or not,” Thuramon told her, “
it
is necessary.”

She looked troubled. “I have seen it,” she said. “It is large… no man could take it out. But there’s another point… the jewel lies visible, where the Emperor himself comes, almost daily, to gloat over it. He would go mad… madder than he now is… if it vanished.”