The White Wolf's Son (28 page)

“But the inn’s on this side,” I said.

“It will be quicker if we take this bridge, cross through the old factory quarter, and then cross again. A shortcut.”

“How could you get lost in your own city, Lord Renyard?” We were both becoming nervous.

“I thought I recognized landmarks, streets. I was wrong. I do apologize, dear mademoiselle. Sometimes I wish I were a mere
fox and used my nose a little better.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Snobbery. I used to think such means uncivilized. I think I’m a little wiser now. Too late, you might say.”

He was right about the shortcut. We were hardly in the industrial part of the city for a few minutes before he spotted another
bridge. Below it and to the left and right along the embankment, presumably for the factory workers, was some sort of recreation
park, with a menagerie and sideshows. I love fairs and carnivals, though I find it hard to enjoy old-fashioned circuses. There
were even a few mechanical rides. A big Ferris wheel but no roller coasters, and some really funky steam-operated bumper cars
made in the form of wild animals. A sinister-looking helter-skelter stood beside an oddly fashioned merry-go-round, whose
riding beasts were totally fantastic and like nothing I’d ever seen. We had to traverse the park to reach the bridge. I didn’t
complain. I knew I couldn’t ask to take some rides, but it was hard to pass them
all
by. The Ferris wheel overlooked the river and turned slowly to the music of a distant steam organ. It reminded me of the
London Wheel, which I’d already ridden several times. If we were here for a while, I’d definitely ask someone to take me.
But it wasn’t fair to ask Lord Renyard, who clearly found it very distasteful.

More and more people came into the park, cackling and grinning and laughing themselves silly. Evidently they came to enjoy
themselves after work. Dressed in their best finery, they looked as strange to me in those odd clothes as I did to them. The
park’s lights had come on. The gas jets spread a warm, yellow aura.

Suddenly I thought I saw Monsieur Zodiac disappearing into one of the sideshows. I remembered he had
worked in the theater in England. Maybe he hadn’t left Mirenburg, after all. Maybe he had been waiting for me.

With a quick word to a startled Lord Renyard, I broke free of his protective paw and ran into the booth. Pushing past the
grubby white flap, I found myself in the gloom of the tent’s interior.

I saw someone ahead of me. Someone with long white hair who could be Monsieur Zodiac, though he seemed too short as I got
closer.

I called out, “Monsieur Zodiac, is that you?”

The figure looked up, as if he heard me. Then he was gone again. But there was a strangeness about his stance which alarmed
me. Was it the blind boy? I became suddenly frightened, and when I heard Lord Renyard calling my name I went outside again
and found him. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was worry that kindly beast. He was greatly relieved to see me and
begged me not to do that again, especially in the dark park. I told him what I’d seen.

“Could Monsieur Zodiac only have pretended to have left, to confuse Klosterheim and Gaynor, maybe?”

Lord Renyard fingered his long muzzle. “I did not think he was in this realm. He traveled on, across the moonbeam roads. I
thought his business was… elsewhere. Yet Fate could have sent him here as readily as we were sent. But would he not have sought
us out by now?”

“Only if he knew we were here. Maybe he didn’t want to be spotted.”

“We are not close acquaintances, my dear girl. I know of him, of course. But our meeting was only brief and underground.”

“He would have known me if he’d seen me. He’s looking for me.”

“But you are rather small, mademoiselle, if I may say so.”

“Well, you’re not likely to blend in with the crowd,” I pointed out. “He’d surely have remembered you.”

It was now completely dark. Flares and lamps were burning orange-yellow against the night. Lord Renyard grew agitated, his
long whiskers quivering.

“We must hurry,” he said. It was hard for him to tug me. “We must rejoin the others.” He led me back through the thick press
of the evening. There was a peculiar vibrancy to the busy crowd as we made our way to The Nun and Turtle. Lord Renyard sensed
it, too. He had noted how, in wartime, people were inclined to make the most of their leisure. He might even call it a kind
of madness, a lust for life and its pleasures because they could be taken away forever at any moment. The atmosphere actually
made me slightly uncomfortable. I was glad to get into the warmth and relative peace of the Nun, where old Herr Morhaim busily
took orders for supper, apologizing in his thick Turkish accent that his menu was limited somewhat by the exigencies of war.

For all that, we ate very well. We had another audience scheduled with Prince Yaroslaf the next day. We hoped he would allow
us to remain in the city and pursue our own quest. We were a little afraid he might decide to enlist us for the war effort.

I had a lot on my mind and was surprised I slept soundly and peacefully. Once again my friends had thrown a great invisible
shield around me. Lord Renyard came to his bed at some point. He didn’t wake me in the process. Then, in the early part of
the morning, I had some alarming dreams which did wake me. I’d seen the white-haired man again, only this time he wasn’t a
man
but the youth who looked so much like my great-grandfather, and he smiled, beckoning me towards him. I wasn’t frightened by
the boy, but I was suddenly filled with a sense of dread—a sense that he was in great danger and that only I could save him.
Then I felt both Lord Renyard and Oona standing nearby.

The dream faded. It was dawn. I could see Lord Renyard fast asleep, his long legs sticking off his bed at an angle. Observing
him more closely, I realized he was sleeping perfectly comfortably, like a large dog. He had drawn the quilt over him for
the sake of propriety. His clothes were all neatly folded or hung on hangers near him, and his dandy pole lay alongside the
bed. Very occasionally he snored and his whiskers twitched. Affection for him welled up in me to see him there, so vulnerable
and peaceful.

Though the fox’s presence was reassuring, I could not go back to sleep.

I saw that someone had left a set of clean clothes for me. This was luxury. I got out of bed and went along the passage to
the bathroom to use it first. I pulled the cord which would bring up a maid with some hot water, and though the water was
cool by the time it arrived, I had a delicious and uninterrupted bath. I got into my fresh clothes and went down to breakfast
on my own. I knew we had to be ready to meet the protector at his palace, and I felt an obscure pride in not having to be
hassled along, as usually happened at home when we were going out early for some reason.

I had the satisfaction of seeing the look of surprise on Oona’s face when she came down. She laughed. “I was giving you a
few more minutes. I thought you were still in bed. Did you sleep well?”

“Mostly,” I said.

Our carriages arrived while we were still eating. We tried to hurry, straightened ourselves as best we could and got into
the waiting four-wheelers, which set off at a clip over the cobbled streets, threatening to bounce the life out of us.

It was the kind of grey, drizzling morning for which I’d always had a perverse taste. I enjoyed the ride through streets now
packed with vendors and soldiers. The soldiers had the grim, staring look you saw on the news where they showed people who
had been fighting too long in places like the Middle East. Quite a lot wore the masks and goggles of airmen, while others
carried huge, thick-hafted, platinum-tipped flame lances on their armored shoulders. A few wore the baroque animal armor identified
with the clans and societies of Granbretan. It felt very odd for your own country to be the enemy; it was hard to get my head
around the idea. I’m not saying Britain always behaved herself properly, and I knew a fair bit about empire, but these people
seemed to have come up with the ideas and methods of Adolf Hitler combined with the imperial instincts of Cecil Rhodes.

I shared a carriage with Lord Renyard, Prince Lobkowitz and Lieutenant Fromental. Oona followed with some of her Kakatanawa,
who, of course, hadn’t been able to fit into one carriage. My companions weren’t very talkative this morning. They explained
the normal protocol for visiting Mirenburg’s royal leader at an audience rather than at a meal. It was quite different, they
said, to how one would behave, for instance, in the presence of the perhaps now drowned Sebastocrater.

“Possibly more formal,” said Prince Lobkowitz. “New states set high store by such things, as do new statesmen.”
He had already approved of my dress, which was very nice, given that I hadn’t even shopped for it. In the carriage I worked
on the hairdo Oona had tried to give me on the run. I thought I looked pretty good, all in all. Not that I usually cared.

The carriages moved up a wide avenue to what Oona called the Krasnya Palace, although the drivers called it something else.
It was much fancier than the Mirenburg I’d left. The palace had a French rather than a classical style and reminded me of
Versailles.

We left the carriages and ascended the wide steps up to the front doors, which were guarded on both sides by women in very
bulky armor, with flame lances held at the slant. Next we were greeted by an elaborately dressed majordomo with a magnificent
black beard shot with grey, who asked us to follow him through the marble corridors, past freshly painted walls. The entire
place had been elaborately redecorated from top to bottom. It smelled of paint throughout. The predominant color was now vivid
green. Most vivid of all were the curtains, drawn back from the long windows, but the trim on the wood was a pretty violent
green, too.

Door after door opened, was entered, then closed behind us until we stood in a small throne room filled with people. Sitting
on the white alabaster throne itself was the nice-looking gentleman who had entertained us to lunch the day before. He had
the same straightforward, almost naive manner, and we got the impression again of an honest man of action. He had been elected
to his position of protector, but apparently the right was his by blood. He rose from his throne and came down the steps to
greet us, standing on the lowest step while the majordomo introduced us one by one. He had the most trouble with
getting his tongue around the Kakatanawa names and in the end resorted to letting them introduce themselves, which they did
with all the grace and style of born diplomats.

“Good morning to you, honored visitors,” he said. “We are especially glad to greet gentlemen from far Amarahk, who do not
disappoint us, for our legends say the Amarahki were great warriors and handsome people.” He spoke in a low, respectful tone.

It was an odd understanding of America, but I rather liked it. I realized there had been a time, and possibly was still a
time somewhere in the multiverse, when Native Americans governed their own country. He seemed to have the idea that we were
all from America, and nobody told him otherwise. He might as well think we were from there as from anywhere. In this “brane”
or “realm” of the multiverse America had not been colonized by Europeans except in certain isolated places.

“Any friends of the great Lord Elric, of course, are friends of ours. You already know this, and I am again glad to welcome
you here.” He had climbed a few stairs and now sat down again. “He alone is responsible for what was begun here.”

“It is a shame he left no forwarding address,” said Lieutenant Fromental rather sardonically, without insulting the young
protector.

“I agree,” said Prince Yaroslaf. “But he had already done so much for us, I could ask him no more. It seemed clear to me that
he did not wish to tell us where he went, save to find the ‘moonbeam roads’ he spoke about.”

The conversation lost me after that, but the others seemed to be getting something out of it. In the end I gave up listening
and decided to enjoy myself as best I could.
About the only interesting bit was when we were shown a display of captured armor and weapons from Granbretan. It really was
weird stuff, especially the mantis armor of King Huon’s guard, which looked as if a whole lot of giant insects had been wiped
out. At some point refreshments were brought in, and I had the best glass of lemonade I’d ever tasted. Yet I still couldn’t
help thinking of the white-skinned boy I’d seen. I really wanted to get back to the fairgrounds and find him. I wondered if,
later on, I could persuade Lord Renyard to help me.

Meanwhile I continued to find Prince Yaroslaf’s formal court rather funny. In their padded clothes they were like a hall full
of Renaissance Michelin Men. I knew it was wrong to laugh, but it was hard to keep from giggling sometimes. These people were
fighting for life and freedom against a terrible evil, and all I could do was laugh! I decided I must be shallow. And this
made me even more amused. The guiltier I felt, the more I wanted to giggle. In the end I asked a footman where to find the
bathroom. This turned out to be a sort of inverted pyramid in the floor. At least I didn’t really need it. Once inside, I
almost exploded with laughter, giggling myself silly.

The door had a kind of grille in it so that people inside could see if someone was waiting outside, without anyone being able
to see in. After about ten minutes I was all right. I put my eye to the grille and watched the people coming and going along
the passage. No one needed the toilet, so I relaxed and collected myself. The next time I looked through the grille, however,
I got a shock.

Passing the door, as bold as brass, was Herr Klosterheim! So the man in the cowl
had
been Gaynor! I was totally astonished and almost fell backwards. When I peered out through the grille again he had, of course,
gone.

For a while I was too terrified to leave. Yet I knew I had to warn my friends. Was Klosterheim in league with Prince Yaroslaf?
I had no way of knowing. And now I felt sick with anxiety.