“My dear, dear young lady,” the High Priest said, droplets of spittle forming at the sides of his mouth with the strength of his sincerity. “We can do better than that. We will use her in the dedication ceremony, two days hence. Several significant delegates will be sent forth. I am sure the recent conversation we had with Her Majesty may bring some bearing on her decision of what gesture is needed to provide her with more appropriate offspring—”
Rupert again forgot his diplomatic training in the face of his moral outrage. “See here, Your Brilliance. If you have any notion of indiscriminately disposing of a member of my staff and an innocent infant in your vile rites of human sacrifice—”
“My dear young man, what utter nonsense! Indiscriminate? Vile rites? Wherever did you get such an idea?”
“Is it not true then?” Rupert asked hopefully, the heat and color draining a bit from his face.
“Certainly not.”
“I am so pleased to hear it. Of course, I felt all along that it was rubbish to suppose that one of the world’s greatest exporters of magic practiced human sacrifice.…”
“Now that part is true,” His Brilliance admitted as if modestly acknowledging a compliment. “How could it be otherwise? All greatness among men is the result of human sacrifice of one sort or the other. For one to gain, another must be deprived. Its only natural or, as in the case of the Great Polyhued, supernatural. But I can assure you that there is nothing vile or indiscriminate about our rites. They are exceedingly tasteful and have a wealth of socially significant factors surrounding them and are celebrated most discriminatingly at specific times of the year.”
“Ah,” Rupert said. “And what times are those?”
“Oh, there are a great many. I’ll be happy to see that you are provided with a calendar to memorize. All that need concern you at time time is the one taking place just before sundown tomorrow. Right now the preparations are being made for the ceremony later tonight at which we will arrange for the appropriate conditions. I wish I could invite you to witness it, but that really would spoil the surprise.”
“Naturally, we can’t have the surprise spoiled,” Rupert said, barely keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. “Tell me, who else do you intend to kill this time?”
“Kill? We kill no one. We send our delegates living into the mouth of the god, who regurgitates them as magical entities, empowered to serve in a far more fascinating and useful fashion than they did formerly. You understand that unlike many of the more primitive peoples who pathetically ape our worship, we do not generally sacrifice our best contributing members: beautiful virgins, good-looking heroes, those sorts of people. Only in extraordinary circumstances, and extenuating ones at that, does an unusually able and attractive individual go to the god. No, we send those who are in some way unable in their present form to make their greatest contribution: thieves, you see, dissidents, unfit spouses, children of the wrong sex—”
“You mean daughters,” Carole said from the doorway, through which she preceded her keeper, her entrance sudden and dramatic amid the chiming of crystal beads. Effluvia and Alireza, stopped their wrangling long enough to glare in unison at the outside interruption.
“Of course,” His Brilliance replied, beckoning the two newcomers in without missing a beat. “What else would I mean? Though you understand, not only the children, but all of the delegates are marked by the god for his transformation by their very unsuitability to move among the rest of our people. As for the transformation itself, the god in his glory manifests that. We priests are merely donors of the delegates, and are personally responsible for nothing save donating, and collecting the resulting product, and seeing that it is properly packaged and utilized. Other than that, we serve only to distribute the credits due from the sacrifice to the proper sources and thereby increase the gross national magical byproduct.”
“Hmm,” Carole said. “I wonder if my great-grandmother who enhanced her magic by eating children looked at it that way.”
“That’s something else entirely!” the lay brother beside her said, making a determined effort to tower menacingly above her.
Effluvia spoke up, her tail rising behind her more ominously than ever. “Was there some reason for this impertinent interruption? I had the impression the underlings had been secured already, Your Brilliance.”
“I found her in the god’s room,” the burly lay brother explained to the High Priest. “And that after I saw Brother Bullcow lock her in her room as sure as I see her standing here now.”
“I needed to have a private word with His Highness,” Carole explained with smiling patience, quite enjoying the discomfiture of the others.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Alireza said, linking her arm in Rupert’s. “His Highness is vital to this discussion.”
Rupert’s chin jutted and his eyes flashed for a moment, as he firmly and with very deliberate patience disentangled himself. “Surely you can spare me a moment to consult with my staff,” he said.
The High Priest intervened. “A moment only, Your Highness. There is much you need to understand, much to learn, and much to settle among us before your introduction to our people, and precious little time. That must take up all of tomorrow. You must be well rested so that you thoroughly comprehend what you are told. I can spare only a moment more in clarifying this situation for Mademoiselle Mukbar and then I must hasten to perform my offices at tonight’s ceremony. The only thing of interest your staff member can possibly add to this discussion is an explanation of how she came to be here. All guest quarters are locked automatically. Is this in some way connected with her magic power?”
“You might say that,” Rupert replied quickly.
“Indeed I might. I just did as a matter of fact. Please do me the favor of elucidating. Outside magic is always of great interest. One learns even from the humblest of sources.”
“Ah, yes. Well, you see, my cousin just happens to be a very special sort of witch. She is a great sorceress of doors. They find her powers irresistible.”
“Remarkable,” the High Priest said. “Just how does this power work?”
“Goodness knows,” Rupert said, smiling innocently. When the High Priest began tapping his nails on the arm of his crystal throne, the Prince added quickly and in what he hoped was an erudite and knowledgeable tone, “You see, magical power is, for the Argonian witch, frequently a matter of ancestral inheritance. My cousin was related to a wood nymph on her father’s side. The wood in the doors still recognizes her as a relative. Because of that bond it refuses to bind her in other, more customary manners, or to cooperate with others who would do so.”
“My, that is remarkable,” Alireza said, fanning her eyelashes up at him. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that particular type of power explained so well before.”
Brother Bullcow rushed in before Rupert succumbed to the temptation to make the explanation yet more interesting. The brother’s spindly legs pumped beneath his gold-colored, diaper-like temple garment. His lofty forehead was dotted with sweat. “Your Brilliance, your indulgence please, but I must interrupt. A messenger has just arrived from the palace. The Queen says—”
“Not in public, you fool,” His Brilliance snapped. “Gentle ladies, Your Highness, I fear we must delay this discussion until later. Brother Erng, please see that Lady Carole is placed behind her friendly door once more, only this time please add a lay brother to keep the door from being so easily swayed by her charms. Mademoiselle Mukbar, it grieves me to leave you but—”
“I do understand.”
“Effluvia, my dear, if you would linger for a moment. Remember, Your Highness, your instruction begins early.”
Rupert gave him a curt nod and followed Carole and Brother Erng, who closed the door on Carole and posted the guard before Rupert was able to learn what had caused her to seek him out. Behind the door to his own pleasant quarters, he paced for a moment, worrying a thumbnail and staring distractedly at the fountain. Presently he heard a feint cr
eaking. Something in the fountain stared shyly back.
He circled the fountain slowly. Just as slowly she stepped out, still staring, taking him in with eyelids still half lowered, long hair, not the yellow-blonde shade common in Gorequartz but a pale caramel strung with gold shadowing her face. He gave her his hand to guide her around the fountain. She amazed him by falling to her knees, hair sweeping over her head as she pressed face and arms to the floor.
“My dear lady,” he said, kneeling beside her, “are you ill?”
“No, Precious Polyhued. I come in worship and supplication. I bespoke your handmaiden and pray you will be merciful and grant my plea.”
“Yes, and what was that?” Rupert asked. “My-er-hand-maiden was unavoidably detained before she could discuss this with me.”
“My Lord, I ask that you spare my little Princess, my baby. Take me instead if you must, but spare her. She is so small and helpless and she is not truly the daughter of the Queen.”
“Sweet lady, no project could be dearer to my heart. But how can I do so?”
She was taken aback. “How can you? But… ah, I see. This is a test, isn’t it? You’re testing my faith. But I do believe in you, which you must understand, even though you may see into my heart and know that I find your priests abominably cruel, your image forbidding. Your person, on the other hand, is all I could wish for in a god.” She gazed wonderingly into his eyes as she said this, and he found he was stroking her cheek and brushing back her hair as she spoke. “You are so warm, and I know you are kind—you are the god. You have only to spare her, do you not?”
He stopped stroking and looked at the floor.
“Well, do you not? Oh, no, was I wrong? Is your gentle countenance a jest more cruel than the fists of your priests?”
“Believe me, I’m not jesting,” he replied, looking up quickly and gaining courage from her desperation, her very helplessness. “I want to help the child but to do so I must thwart those very evil priests you so bravely denounce in your adorably valiant way.”
She sighed and smiled slightly, the suspicion abating from her expression. “But could you not deny them the rainbows they seek tonight, and thereby thwart them?”
“It isn’t that easy,” he said. He wanted badly to tell her that he wasn’t a god, but doubted she would believe him. Besides, it was as the god she wanted his help for Bronwyn’s child. “You see, in this incarnation, a lot of my powers have been hidden from me. My cousin, the one you call my handmaiden, knows a great deal. She’s sort of a minor goddess herself.” He was rather proud of that. Why should he bear the burden of deification alone after all? And Carole was better equipped to play the part than he. “Give me a chance to talk to her.”
“When?”
“I’m afraid it can’t be until tomorrow. She’s locked in her room again and this time with a guard.”
“But that is no problem for you, Grand Prismatic!”
“Isn’t it?” he asked.
“No, for you have shown me the way to help you. You need only use the secret passage and guide her through it.”
“Now why didn’t I think of that? So I have. And the guards will probably be distracted anyway, what with the ceremony and the hoopla at the palace Brother Bullcow came rushing into the audience chamber about.”
“At the palace?” she asked suddenly, springing to her feet. “There is trouble at the palace? What sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know. The Queen wanted to send a message to the priest about something—”
“Oh, no. I should not have stayed so long. They will discover I am gone and have left my child alone. Oh, please, grant my wish. Deliver my child.”
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you deliver the child to me? Then my handmaiden and I can take you both somewhere safe. To tell you the truth, that is why I’ve come among your people this time.”
“Truly?” Her voice was so faint he thought she would drop to the floor before he could help her back into the passage.
“Truly. But you must help us. We can’t have you bringing the baby here. Where is a safe place?’
“Until tomorrow night, the safest place in all Gorequartz is that most sacred to you, most taboo to all others. Your image in the harbor.”
“Wonderful. You fetch the baby. I’ll fetch Carole and we’ll meet there and—I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t even know your name.”
“Jushia,” she said.
“Oh, yes. Jushia, of course. It would be,” he said, remembering belatedly that he was supposed to be omnipotent. “Jushia, don’t worry.”
“Oh, no, my lord. With you on my side, never. To do so would be heresy.”
“There’s my girl,” he beamed, and patted her hip as she fled ahead of him into the passage.
He had one foot on the threshold when there was the slightest of taps on his door; a scraping as someone pushed it open. He shut the secret door on his sleeve and was still trying to extricate it when Alireza Mukbar slithered into the room.
“Rupert, darling. I’m here. Sorry I’m late but it took me a little time to bribe the wretched guards. I told them their god would be ever so disappointed, but the fellows haven’t a jot of romance in their souls. Come to me, my lo… just what is it that you’re doing there?”
“Washing a spot from my coat,” he said, splashing a little in the fountain while still furtively tugging to loose the sleeve without tearing it.
“With you still in it? Silly boy. Men are such babies. What do you think servants are for?” She undulated toward him and as he turned to shield the door from her view, his sleeve, or most of it, pulled free.
“Ah, that’s better,” he said, tucking the telltale arm behind his back. “Now then, what can I do for you?”
“What can you do for me? Darling, don’t be ridiculous. When you know you’ve been dying to see me. Rupert, you have been dying to see me, haven’t you? Surely you can’t be taking that hideous skunk creature seriously?”
Her delectable lower lip trembled, but Rupert was too distracted to be interested. What if she heard the scraping noises issuing from the walls.
“Alireza, you are an extremely beautiful and desirable woman,” he said in a voice a bit too loud to be intimate.
“Yes, of course,” she said, her eyes widening, startled.
“Well, I think I have been taking advantage of you. No, no, don’t protest so sweetly. I’m very smooth when I want to be. You probably just haven’t caught on yet.”
“Not caught on? Do you think I’m a fool? I knew you would come here. I—”
“Yes, but did you know I’d release those smoky things? Eh? I doubt that occurred to you.”
“Really, Rupert, that was inconsiderate of you. Why, they’ve done three times your weight in gold pieces in damage to the city. Not even the shrewdest of Profit prophets can foresee what will happen if they decide to wreak their vengeance elsewhere. Don’t you care that they might have hurt me? They chased my carpet until I cleared the city walls.”
“One can’t blame them really,” he said. “I would have chased you myself.”
“You’re too gallant,” she said, giving him a look as hot as the desert from which her power base sprang.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I simply can’t blame the bottled things for being angry about being kept slaves.”
“Darling, you’re a bit confused. People are slaves. Magical entities are just there. If they’re a useful commodity, one uses them but—”
“Without their consent?”
“I admit one never thinks to ask them.”
“There, you see. You admit it.”
“Admit what? Why are you trying to tell me how to run my business all of a sudden? I came here to—”
“Shhh,” he said, muffling her face against his chest before shoving her towards the door. “You’ve had a long trip and you’re becoming overwrought. I think we should talk about this later. Goodnight now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She had unlock
ed his door upon entering and as he pushed her out, he fastened the bar that locked it from the inside.
He was allowing himself a sigh of relief that diplomatic training included how to start a fight as well as prevent one. A resounding clamor echoed from within the walls and the passage door popped open again, spilling Carole into the fountain.
She sputtered and dripped as she climbed out onto the carpet while Rupert looked on with a mixture of consternation and wonder. “I knew that opening had to be around here somewhere,” she said, nodding at it in an emphatic and victorious gesture. “But where is that woman? Did she find you?”
“Which woman?” he asked a little plaintively. “You’re the third who’s been here since I left the audience chamber.”
“Poor thing. I mean the baby’s nurse. Or was she among your admirers tonight?”
“Cousin, sarcasm ill befits your role as priestess.”
“Perhaps you’d rather I’d sacrifice people instead?”
“Never mind. In answer to your question, yes, Jushia found me. If you’ll just pop back into that passage before we’re detained again, I’ll tell you all about it as we go.”
* * *
Timoteo the travel logger shivered in his soaked robes and wished his accomplices had thought to leave him a change of clothes. He felt like a fish baking in wet leaves as he huddled in the tiny secret room beneath the footpath separating the moat from the canal. He would have to dry off before he executed his plan or he would leave big muddy footprints all over the palace floors.
He thought weeks had passed instead of only hours since the priests stopped splashing around looking for him and the drawbridge was finally raised. He was glad the entrance had been where his accomplices said it would be, and well marked with the shell-tied ribbon he pulled inside after him. He had always been a bit squeamish about jumping into rivers, though the terror with which he had so thoroughly impressed the Prince and the witch in preparation for this moment had been more or less feigned. They were both, he could be sure, thoroughly convinced that he had drowned, and since they were convinced, the priests would also be convinced. His hiding place would remain a secret, as it had been since it was clandestinely built into the footpath by the ancestors of his friends when their slave labor constructed the path. Its admittedly modest secret was passed from father to son, mother to daughter, and had proved useful for slipping past the guards at either end of the footpath and onto the drawbridge when lowered for heavy traffic. The use of the little room provided his friends with a way to evade inconvenient questions, prevented them from having to construct untruthful excuses for their comings and goings when truthful explanations would assuredly have pleased neither the guards nor Their Majesties.
The Christening Quest Page 15