by Martin Ash
‘Be quick,’ shouted Feikermun, his eyes upon the bowl, then the woman, then the bowl. ‘Give it to Feikermun!’
The slave had her eyes closed. She was beginning to shiver. Her blood had almost filled the bowl. Feikermun watched her feverishly, the tip of his tongue poised quivering on his lower lip.
‘Now!’ he declared. The bowl was whisked away and passed up to him. He brought it to his lips and tipped it back, arching his spine and drinking deeply as the young woman’s wound was bound and she, almost fainting, was carried away.
Feikermun closed his eyes. He let fall the empty bowl. ‘Aah, the blood. The Source.’ He let out a long, ecstatic sigh. ‘Soon ... Soon, the power. Almost... Almost..’
His eyes half-opened and he drew his thick forearm across his mouth, wiping the blood from his lips and whiskers. He lowered his gaze until it settled drunkenly on me, his head swaying. ‘Not now,’ he slurred. ‘We will talk later. Now is time for indulgence.’
He turned, stepping down off the table, and staggered away. The dishevelled steward who had guided me to the hall came forward and spoke in my ear. ‘You are to remain in the palace. Your chamber has been prepared. I shall show you the way as soon as you are ready.’
‘I am ready now,’ I said.
The steward had been about to withdraw. He seemed surprised. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite.’ I believed, and hoped, that for the time being at least I was forgotten. Feikermun stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of the floor, observing the antics all around him.
‘What next?’ he called as I rose from my seat. He swung around and his gaze passed over me, and for a moment my heart fell. I believed he was about to call upon me, even demand my participation. But something else had claimed his attention. ‘Ah yes!’ he roared. ‘The hogs and asses! Bring on the hogs and asses!’
As I left through the entrance by which I had come a portal was opened at the other end of the hall and a dozen or so squealing pigs and a quartet of donkeys were herded in. They were driven towards the mass of naked bodies in the middle of the hall. My last sight was of Feikermun bounding across the floor, scattering a pair of grey langurs and howling like a demented banshee as he hurled himself among the animals.
Nine
‘Yo.’
‘I am here, Master.’
‘I must be brief. I require you to carry a message to the Zan-Chassin.’
‘I am ready, Master.’
‘Alert the Chariness. Tell her I have made contact. The situation is unpredictable. I have reason to believe the subject is on the verge of power, but I do not know what form. My opinion is that he is out of control. There is conflict in the city; I have not been able to determine its extent or full nature. I seek information on two men. The eel-trader, Wirm of Guling Mire, who is a close ally of Feikermun. And a man called Vecco, who was Wirm’s guest. I am looking for connections. Have you got all that?’
‘I have.’
‘Then go, now, with all speed.’
‘I am gone, Master.’
*
It was a calculated risk. I gambled that I would not be under close surveillance so early on. Feikermun’s distractions would surely prevent his thinking clearly about anything other than his immediate gratification. I took it as given that I would be watched, but to scan for magic was another matter. And, as the Chariness had pointed out, a summoning of an entity does not leave the same residual aura as the casting of a rapture. As long as I was brief - and I had been - I had good hopes of remaining undetected.
I had been housed in a single-roomed apartment on the second level of Feikermun’s palace. Somewhere below me the orgy continued. From time to time I heard the sounds of carousing, shouts and cries, the braying of asses, squawks of birds, squeals of pigs, the mad music of the five drunken musicians, and Feikermun’s demented roars. It had been hours now. There had been a lull for a time, and I had thought the revels must all be over; but a short while later they had resumed. Now it was dark outside. From my window I could see, across the sprawling town, the glows of the fires I had spied earlier from the hill road. There appeared to be three currently ablaze, quite close together, about half a mile northeast of the palace. From time to time, when the din from below diminished sufficiently, I heard distant shouts carried on the light breeze, as of numbers of men in conflict.
I had been brought food and had eaten alone. I did not know where Jaktem and Ilian were. The steward who had escorted me to my chamber had advised me not to leave until summoned. I decided to take him at his word so, having dismissed Yo, I prepared for sleep, there being little else to do.
It was about midnight, I would guess, that I was woken by a moving light in my room and the realization that I was no longer alone. A hand-held lamp glowed; I made out the form of a human figure moving towards my bed. Beyond, I saw a second figure bulking in the open door, silhouetted against the dim yellowish light of the passage outside. The shape of the head suggested a helmet, and I took him to be a soldier.
I reached silently for my dagger in its sheath beneath my pillow. The figure with the lamp moved closer to my bed, then halted.
‘Sir, are you awake?’
‘Jaktem?’
‘No, sir, it is I.’
The lamp lifted slightly to illuminate an unfamiliar face.
‘Who? Who are you?’
‘I, sir, who brought you here.’
Gradually the blear of sleep passed from my eyes and brain and I recognized the sallow features of Feikermun’s steward. ‘What do you want?’
‘You are summoned into The Excellency’s presence.’
‘What, now? It is the middle of the night.’
‘That is so.’
I sat up on the edge of my bed. ‘He expects me now, not in the morning?’
‘That is correct, sir.’
I ran my hands over my face. ‘Give me a moment to wash and dress.’
‘I shall wait outside, sir. I would advise a degree of haste. The Excellency does not expect to be kept waiting.’
Moments later I was ushered into apartments on the palace’s third level. Feikermun of Selph awaited me in the company of two cronies and Wirm. The Excellency lounged upon a plushly upholstered couch, his short powerful legs up, one laid loosely along the couch, the other crooked, the knee resting against the couch back. He was garbed in a slack-fitting open-fronted robe of rich purple silk, loosely sashed at the waist. It had fallen open enough to reveal him to be naked beneath, and still painted, though the pigments had smudged and smeared. He appeared to have made some attempt to clean his face, but the result was simply a ghastly blotch of random colour which accentuated his unhuman appearance.
Wirm reclined upon the floor before a blazing hearth on a rug of pure white bearskin, his thin, pale fingers tracing the rim of a golden wine goblet. Another man sat upon a carved wooden chair nearby. He was a short, bulbous fellow of middle age, with a shining dome that was completely shorn of hair. I believed I had seen him earlier at the orgy, administering torment to a man and woman confined on frames.
The other stranger was tall and sinewy, aged perhaps twenty-five, with long brown hair and flamboyant though somewhat unkempt moustaches. He wore a dented leather breastplate and had a sword buckled at his waist. His face was pitted with the scars of pox, and a dark leather patch covered one eye. There was a sense of brooding energy about him and his mouth held a cruel twist. He looked every bit the brigand leader or mercenary captain.
Upon rugs to one side three of Feikermun’s naked slave girls lay sleeping in postures of arousing abandon.
‘Cormer of Chol!’ Feikermun bellowed, and raised a muscular arm to wave me in. ‘Come! Be seated! Join the illustrious Feikermun and his comrades! Drink!’
I bowed, and approached. A naked servant boy ran forward to take up a gold pitcher and pour amber wine into a goblet. I took the goblet and seated myself cross-legged in the place Feikermun indicated, on a stuffed, tasselled velvet pouffe a little way before him.
Wirm was to one side, the bald torturer to the other; the one-eyed fighter was standing next to Feikermun’s couch.
I observed Feikermun, and was again aware of the vague, disturbing aura of uncertain magic that he emanated.
‘You are comfortable here? Everything is to your liking?’ he enquired.
‘Very much so, my lord. Thank you.’
‘Good. You are Feikermun’s guest. Feikermun intends that all who sojourn here are treated in proper and fitting manner.’
‘You are most gracious. There - ahem! - is one small matter, if I might mention it.’
‘Yes?’
‘I came here with two companions. I have seen nothing of them since our arrival. I was wondering what has become of them.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Feikermun. ‘They’ve been executed.’
I was struck dumb. Feikermun stared at me without expression.
‘But… But… Why? They’ve committed no crime.’
‘Wrong question! Wrong question!’ Feikermun yelled. ‘And how do you know what crime they have or have not committed? Do you spend every moment of your waking and sleeping life beside them? If so, Master Cormer of Chol, you must be guilty also! Is that not so?’
He glared at me fiercely. I was aghast, could think of no response other than to say again, ‘Why? What did they do?’
‘I have said already, that is the wrong question! Why? Why? Do not ask Feikermun why! Instead, ask: why not? Why not?’
His cheeks puffed out, his eyes popped almost out of his head, his shoulders shook and he was convulsed with a great bellow of laughter. Beside me Wirm sniggered. The bald fellow rocked noiselessly. The fighter stood tall and impassive, observing me darkly with his single eye.
Feikermun beat the back of his couch and clutched his shuddering belly. He rolled back and kicked his feet in the air in helpless mirth, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. I remained silent, completely bewildered. I had entered a place of utter derangement.
At length Feikermun’s fit began to ebb. He raised himself on one elbow and leaned towards me, but no sooner had he focused upon my face than he broke up again. I waited unhappily, my heart in my mouth, as he gave vent to shrieks and bawls of helpless laughter.
‘Put to death,’ wheezed Feikermun when he had regained sufficient control of himself. He wiped the tears from his eyes, further smudging the madness of colours upon his face. ‘Sent packing!’
I at last found my voice and said, my mouth suddenly dry, ‘So there was no reason?’
‘Irked by the look of the bastards. Didn’t like the reek of their sweat or the colour of their piss. Didn’t like the cut of their jib.’
Again I was lost for words. I could only keep my fury suppressed as the instinct for self-preservation took over.
‘And they knew torment,’ Feikermun continued relentlessly. ‘Theirs were deaths they will not quickly forget! Ha-ha!’
He howled uproariously again, pounding his thigh, then ceased suddenly and fixed me with a piercing stare.
‘What do you think you should do about it?’ he asked, and there was no mistaking the challenge in his voice.
I fought again for my tongue, and my voice shook as I spoke. ‘Sir, I can say only, if the deed has truly been done, that I am shocked and appalled. These were good men who had committed no crime, and I would wish to register my outrage.’
‘“If the deed has been done”?’ Feikermun frowned menacingly, his voice rising. ‘Do you question the word of Feikermun?’
It was impossible; the man was wholly insane. I struggled to control my anger. ‘I say only, again, that they were innocent of any crime against you.’
‘I have already asked, how can you know that? Are you intimate with the enemies of Feikermun?’ He leaned towards me. ‘How long have you known these scoundrels?’
I shook my head in exasperation. ‘A short while only, but-‘
‘Then you can know nothing!’
‘Your Excellency, these men were in my employ. They were my responsibility.’
I half-expected that at any moment Feikermun would give the order to end my life, or that he would simply slaughter me himself on the spot, with blade or bare hands. Such was his state that anything was possible. I endeavoured to choose my words and tone carefully, but suspected that my manner or responses would actually have scant bearing on events. Feikermun would murder on a whim, with neither sound reason nor plan.
‘Then you are an irresponsible fellow to allow such misfortune to befall your employees.’ He leaned back and picked a sweetmeat from a tray beside him, stuffed it into his mouth and chomped noisily. He offered one to me. ‘They are quite delicious.’
I declined as graciously as I could. Feikermun tensed slightly and let out a long, loud fart, then grunted in satisfaction. ‘Bondo,’ he said to the bald man, ‘what did become of this man’s two companions?’
‘I have no knowledge, Excellency. I would imagine they were quartered among the servants. Do you wish me to enquire?’
‘Later, not now. Have them moved into a chamber adjacent to our guest. Would that suit you, Master Cormer?’
‘They are not cadavers, then?’
‘Manifestly not. At least, not by Feikermun’s orders. Feikermun sported with you. He enjoyed the jest. Your face ... to use your own words, “an extraordinary spectacle!”.’
Feikermun grinned, swallowed the tidbit, farted again. ‘Now, you spoke earlier of business.’
I took a few moments to calm my thoughts. I was relieved, angry, and still not entirely certain what to believe. Until I saw Jaktem and Ilian before me I would be haunted by the possibility of their deaths. I said, ‘Lord Feikermun, with great respect I would emphasize the personal nature of my proposition. You might prefer that it is not voiced in company, other than the company of those you would trust implicitly.’
Feikermun eyed me fiercely. I sensed that his joviality had passed. He said gruffly, ‘Just speak, man!’
‘Very well. I have at my disposal a quantity of the rare visionary root, sacred to the Nirakupi people, known as gidsha. This root has been acquired from a particular source and has been cultivated and prepared in ways unknown to others. The result is a purer form of gidsha than is normally found. Its potency is significantly increased and its mind-altering properties enhanced.’
Feikermun inclined his head and torso towards me. His eyes were wide and lit with a cupid gleam. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘It is the property of my master in Chol.’
‘Where does he get it?’
‘I regret, Your Excellency, it is not within my scope to answer that.’
‘I could force the answer from you.’
‘No torture known to man or god could draw that information from my tongue, for I do not have it. My master alone has access to the supply, and he does not reveal his secrets to humble servants such as I. He has sent me to you, having an understanding of your interest, with a small sample of the root for you to try. If it is to your liking - and my master believes fully that it will be - then I may establish terms with you whereby it will be made available to you whensoever and in whatever quantities you desire.’
‘Do you have the sample here?’
‘Indeed I do.’ I reached into my bag and brought forth a small quantity of the pale, lightly hirsute root. ‘I would emphasize that it is not ready for ingestion at this moment. A few final preparations are required.’
‘Taking how long?’
'
‘A matter of no more than an hour or two.
‘And are you conversant with the techniques of preparation?’
‘I am.’
Feikermun tugged at his beard, his eyes upon the gidsha. He glanced over at Wirm, then back at me. ‘The potency is increased, you say?’
‘That is so. I am assured that the visionary and ecstatic states it promotes are beyond compare. My master is satisfied that, once you have tasted the experience this root offers, you will never again turn to its paler sister.’
‘And then your master intends to extort money from Feikermun
to maintain the supply?’
‘Not so, Your Excellency. My master seeks only to please you and establish good relations. The sample I have brought is yours without charge. If, as my master believes, you are then keen to obtain more, it shall be at a mutually agreed price, no higher than the price you currently pay, whatever that may be. It is for us to agree, at terms pleasing to yourself.’