However, she had been careful to stay close to her niece. The sultan had been eyeing his wife with blatantly lustful glances, which Inosolan had been ignoring while cheerfully dragging Kadolan around the Opal Palace as if determined to view every one of its sculptures and innumerable points of interest in a few brief hours. Meanwhile the day had been drawing relentlessly to its close. Kadolan could hardly chaperon a married woman in her bedchamber.
Since Master Rap had gone off with the imperor, there had been no word of him. His sorcery had cured the sultan’s curse, but it had left the Krasnegar situation unresolved. She had not been too surprised, therefore, when the regent had summoned them to the meeting with the wardens. That was not the sort of summons she enjoyed, but it had at least offered the possibility of some answers to some of the problems. Trying very hard to hold fast to her faith in the Gods, Kadolan had accompanied Inosolan and Azak to the Rotunda.
The start had been inauspicious — the regent in command, and no sign of the imperor. But then Emshandar had appeared, apparently in good health, and Rap still with him, like a court sorcerer. She had begun to think that her prayers might yet be answered.
Down again … With no warning. Rap had used very obvious sorcery to reveal the regent’s questionable tactics and displace him from the throne. Kadolan had watched in rising apprehension, while Inosolan’s fingernails dug into her hand. The boy was ignorant, of course; he had probably received no schooling at all, but she had come to know him a little during their journey from Arakkaran, and she knew he was well informed about the occult. How, therefore, could he possibly expect the wardens to allow such open use of sorcery around the Opal Throne itself?
But for a heart-stopping moment, it had seemed that the faun’s temerity had escaped notice. Visibly exhausted but yet jubilant, Emshandar had been about to end the meeting and send them all off to bed — that being one of the problems that had not been solved.
And then the wardens had come.
Disappointing … the Four were definitely not what Kadolan had expected. Warlock Lith’rian looked barely old enough to shave — although she had a vague idea that perhaps elves didn’t — and Warlock Zinixo still resembled an escaped quarry worker. Witch Bright Water was young and about as close to beautiful as a goblin could ever be. Warlock Olybino was the handsome young soldier Inosolan had described. None of them looked old, or especially benevolent.
Fair enough, appearances were unimportant. It was the way the Four behaved that really upset Kadolan. True, they granted Master Rap a trial. They did not follow normal courtroom procedure, for the judges called themselves as witnesses, but she supposed that was reasonable enough when the judges were omniscient. She could not disagree with the testimony, because she had witnessed the events herself. But thereafter justice seemed to go sadly awry. The dispassionate, disinterested guardians of her childhood lessons dissolved like mist.
The verdict was quite obviously skewed by political self-interest. Of course an elf and a dwarf could proverbially never be on the same side of anything, but Bright Water’s vote for acquittal seemed to have no logical explanation at all, unless it involved Master Rap dying horribly at the hands of the young goblin the witch had embraced so shamelessly.
And the old imperor! Emshandar had always been spoken of as a man of honor. He had been a good imperor, ruling as a man of peace although he had soldiered well in his youth. A man of law and justice. The elf had been very cruel in forcing him to cast the deciding vote and put his heart before his head.
Of course Kadolan had wanted Master Rap acquitted, and she had joined in the applause with everyone else, probably much more sincerely than most of the spectators. Yet somehow she had felt a wrongness, and almost a feeling of guilt. She felt like an accomplice to something shameful. Perhaps it was to be expected of so turbulent a day that the best news it could produce would be so flawed.
Inosolan had no such scruples. With a yell of delight she released Kadolan’s hand and pulled loose from Azak’s arm — for the sultan was being quite shamelessly attentive to her, like a love-sick boy — and went tearing over to embrace Master Rap. Kadolan was left standing between a gold candelabrum on one side and an almost equally tall sultan on the other, and she was not sure which was putting out more heat. She thought for a moment he was going to pursue his errant wife and drag her away bodily, but he restrained himself when he saw Master Rap evade the hug.
“Inosolan!” Azak bellowed, and Inos slunk back to him like a beaten dog.
Kadolan cringed. She was certain that Inos was going to refuse to share a room with her husband that night. There was going to be a most frightful scene. Azak was probably capable of using force, and even Imperial law was on his side there. Gods knew what Zarkian law would have to say on the matter. Why, oh, why had Master Rap been so pigheadedly honorable?
Frightful scene or not, surely the trial had ended and everyone could leave? Her feet and ankles were complaining bitterly that every day must end at last, even a day like this one. She peered around at the company — the wardens on their thrones, the haggard old imperor, gentlemen in red or white togas, or uniform, ladies in their white chitons. They all looked exhausted. What were they all waiting for?
Then she saw that everyone was studying either Rap or the warlock of the west. Both of them, in fact — they seemed to be glaring very hard at each other.
What was the wayward faun up to now? Cheeking a warlock?
If the God of Love Themselves had not decreed it, Kadolan would never have seen this boy as a suitable partner for Inos. He seemed to do the wrong thing so often. It wasn’t that he was headstrong — the Powers knew that Inosolan needed no tutoring or assistance in that direction! No, Master Rap so often seemed to act deliberately, and for the best possible reasons, and then commit the worst possible blunder. Disaster followed him like a black dog.
The staring match continued. That was the sort of silly game very small boys played, not young men. Not sorcerers, surely?
Then why did everyone seem to be holding their breath?
Abruptly the dwarf lurched down from his throne and reeled across the floor toward Rap. The warlock seemed to be drunk, or ill, and Master Rap remained paralyzed, the audience still spellbound. Kadolan glanced at Inos, and she obviously did not understand what was happening either. But this was no childish matter, clearly,
About two paces from Rap, the dwarf halted and raised great killer hands, as if about to attack him. But then he just stood for a moment, swaying on his feet, and suddenly the game seemed to be over. Both contestants started from the trance; both breathing heavily. Rap wiped an arm across his forehead. What had all that been about?
Then the elf explained. “Hail to our new warlock of the west!” he sang.
Inosolan Jumped. So did Kade, despite her sore feet. Warlock?
Apparently not. Rap shouted out that he was no warlock. Now everyone seemed completely confused, even the wardens. Rap and Zinixo were back watching each other, but Rap at least was trying to make friends. He smiled. He held out a hand.
Then West accepted the handshake, vigorously. And not just a handshake — an abrazo as well? How disconcerting! She knew that in some times and places it was permissible for men to embrace one another, but she had thought that it was an elvish custom, not a dwarvish one.
Kadolan relaxed with a sigh of relief. Well, perhaps now the show was over and they could all go off to bed, please?
No — suddenly the day made another of its mad plunges into disaster.
Warlock Zinixo vanished, totally. Master Rap staggered back, clutching his head. The other three wardens all leaped to their feet, and Warlock Lith’rian clapped his hands over his ears.
That gesture …
Rap had done that just after Rasha had made him tell her a word of power, as if he had heard something mundanes could not.
Not a kiss. A whisper!
Rap spun around, looking at the imperor — who had fallen back in his seat, aghast — and then at the
other three wardens in turn. And finally he turned to stare across at Inos, as if in farewell. His face was a mask of despair, and his eyes were already glowing with a pearly gray light.
It was a judgment — a judgment on the perverted judgment! The Gods had spoken!
Kadolan heard herself cry out. The Rotunda swayed and the rushing sound of rain was suddenly impossibly loud … Inosolan caught her, and Azak helped, and they lowered her to a sitting position on the floor, but then she resisted, refusing to lie down despite the spinning howl in her head.
Rap screamed.
So did several other people. His clothes were smoldering, smoking … fire trickled out from his collar. And suddenly he was engulfed in searing white flame.
Inosolan released Kade’s arm, and a second time she raced across the floor of the Rotunda to Rap. “Tell me!” she yelled as she went. “Share them! Dilute them!”
Impetuous as ever, she threw her arms around him and was enveloped in fire also. Her dress vanished in one flash. For a moment the pair of them were visible, two bodies locked in terrible embrace, blazing together, filling the Rotunda with light so noontime-brilliant that the candles seemed extinguished.
Spectators raised hands to shield their eyes from the glare; the floor was striped black with their shadows and the shadows of the candelabra. The seats and distant walls sprang into view; the great stone ribs of the ceiling shone overhead, with every crystal pane reflecting back the incandescent lovers’ pyre through a gathering haze of white smoke.
Consumed, the bodies vanished, and the fire, also, and the Rotunda was plunged into Stygian dark.
Sacred flame:
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
Are all but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Coleridge, Love
TEN
Bold lover
1
The midnight sky was dusted with a myriad of bright stars. Slowly they grew brighter and larger, becoming candleflames and crystal droplets on the candelabra. A dull, faint light returned as eyes adjusted, although a greenish afterimage of the immolation still ached on the retinas. Shapes of gentlemen in togas materialized in the gloom, and two ladies came hurrying to Kadolan’s assistance.
“No, please!” she protested. “… standing a little too long. Quite all right … If you’ll just help me up …”
Marshal Ithy himself was at her side then, bringing the chair vacated by Princess Uomaya, and willing hands helped her into it. She felt a fool.
The Rotunda seemed very dark, still. The warlocks had vanished. The imperor was slumped on the Opal Throne, elbows on knees, face in hands. Dismay and fear ruled the court.
Gone? Inosolan gone? Rap gone?
Kadolan’s mind could not comprehend the tragedy. Surely the Gods could not be so cruel?
Voices began to rise as people demanded explanations. Azak’s harsh tones broke in, explaining what had happened.
Plop! Heads turned. Sudden silence.
Inosolan was back.
She was standing exactly where she had been when she vanished, before the throne. The golden hair that had scorched away in flames was restored to its former glory; her sheer chiton hung again in soft folds, clinging daringly to her figure. Kadolan had watched that garment sear away to nothing, and the sandals, also.
Not a burn, not a scar …
Inosolan smiled vaguely and said, “Hello?”
The imperor looked up, incredulous. Others just stared.
Azak recovered first. He moved forward a few paces and then halted, peering at the apparition from a safe distance. “Inos?”
She blinked over at him as if still bewildered, her smile a trifle unfocused. “Who else?”
“What happened there?” he demanded.
“Where? Oh, there! Well, it’s a little hard to explain …” She pondered for a moment. “Very hard to explain, actually.”
“Where is Rap?” the imperor asked harshly.
Inosolan turned and looked at him wonderingly. “Rap? Oh, Rap. Yes, he’ll be along in a moment, Sire. Had some business to attend to, he said.”
Kadolan tried to rise, and someone laid a hand on her shoulder to restrain her. “Inos!” she cried. “Are you all right?”
Inosolan turned more, until she had gone all the way around. “Aunt? There you are. Yes. Yes, I’m fine. A little dazed, maybe.”
“Will you please tell us what happened?” the imperor asked behind her.
This time she merely twisted her head to look at him. “It isn’t easy to describe, your Majesty. Not easy at all. Maybe Rap can tell you, when he gets here. I don’t think I can. But I’m all right. And he’s all right.”
Then Azak lurched into motion. He strode over to Inos and grabbed her shoulder. “What is the meaning of this?” he roared.
Inos blinked again and peered up at him. “Meaning of what?” she asked, her voice a little firmer.
“How dare you disappear with that man like that?”
“Take your hands off me!”
“Slut!” The sultan gripped her other shoulder also and shook her. The spectators gasped and bristled.
The imperor straightened. “Sultan!”
But Azak did not seem to hear. He released Inos. “Whore!” He swung a hand at her face.
Somehow Inos dodged the blow, stepping back with extraordinary agility in a swirl of fabric. “How dare you!”
“Dare? You are my wife, and I —” Again he tried to strike her.
The imperor roared an objection, and several of the men in uniform stepped forward. But again the blow had missed, and now Inos shouted back, apparently recovered from her confusion, her face flushed with anger.
“Brute! You odious brute! Hit me, would you? Well, I’ve had quite enough of your tantrums, Azak ak’Azakar.” She spun around to face the imperor. “Sire! You are chief magistrate of the realm, and high priest, also, are you not?”
The old man started, then nodded. “And what of it?” He seemed to have forgotten his weariness for the moment.
“My marriage to this man has never been consummated. I ask that it be annulled.”
Azak howled like a frustrated tiger and reached for her. At the touch of his fingers, Inos slipped away from him and moved nimbly to the base of the dais, as if seeking protection from the imperor. When the sultan tried to follow, a tribune stepped in front of him. He was unarmed, but his uniform made Azak hesitate.
Emshandar snapped, “Silence!” and the players seemed to freeze. “How long since the ceremony, my dear?”
Inos hesitated. “Two months. No! Longer …”
The old man smiled, and although it was doubtless intended as a kindly expression, his smile made Kadolan think of a skull. “One month is adequate. A bridegroom who does not consummate a marriage within one month after the wedding is deemed to be impotent, and the marriage is henceforth null and —”
“Impotent!” Azak bellowed. He tried to move, and the tribune blocked him again. “There is no such law in Arakkaran!”
“It is the law here!” Emshandar said, showing his teeth once more. “You have our permission to withdraw, your Majesty!”
Azak was speechless.
“Good-bye, Azak,” Inos said. Her voice was soft, but there was a smile hovering around her face. “Thank you for what you did to help.”
“You are my wife!”
“No longer.” She walked forward to him and looked up sadly. “It would not have worked. I could never have been happy.”
“You swore —”
“Yes, and I am sorry. I did not know. But I could not have been happy, and I think you would not have been happy, either. You did care that much, I am sure. You would have tried. I’m sure you would have tried. It is better this way.”
The big man clenched his fists, glaring down at her. Then he raised his gaze to the imperor on his throne. “I understood you wished peace between my land and yours?” he said thr
eateningly.
The spectators stiffened, Emshandar flinched. Kade reflected that wars had been started for much less cause than the theft of a monarch’s wife …
Inos put her head on one side and regarded the sultan thoughtfully. “You don’t like sorcery, Azak, do you? I’m an adept now.”
“Adept?” He fell back a step.
“An adept. Rap told me two words of his words. He had too much power, you see? Burns out the mundane vector …” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “Perhaps I haven’t got that quite right! Rap can explain, when he gets here. But he told me two of them, and then everything was all right. I’m an adept now, Azak.”
“Sorcery!” he muttered, as if it were an obscenity.
Inos’s smile became feline. “Of course you might not be too bad as a husband — not now that I have ways to control you if you get out of hand.”
Shaking his head vigorously, Azak backed away another step.
“No? Well, then — good-bye, Azak!”
She moved as if about to kiss him, and again he retreated.
“You may withdraw, your Majesty!” the imperor repeated firmly.
Azak snarled, as if planning a warlike retort.
“I know you loved me,” Inos whispered. “No one doubts that.”
Pause … The company seemed to hold its breath. “Love!” he muttered angrily. “I brought this on myself, you mean?” Then he bowed stiffly to the throne, spun on his heel, and stalked swiftly away, a haughty giant with his pride bleeding. The sound of his boots faded into the darkness. The spectators relaxed.
Inosolan came floating through the copse of candelabra as if dancing, heading for Kadolan, and other people moved nervously out of her path.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Everything’s all right.”
Kadolan rose, and this time a hand assisted her instead of stopping her.
A Man of His Word Page 150