If the damned Star Lords had been listening in and had come to impose some discipline, I was in for a nasty confrontation. Then I let out a sigh of relief.
The friendly familiar features of Deb-Lu-Quienyin appeared as his image solidified from the haze.
“Lahal, Dray. Again this plane is awkward. My apologies.”
“Lahal, Deb-Lu. All is well?”
“As May Be Expected. I have news of the Skantiklar.”
“Ah!”
“This Na-Si-Fantong would appear to have vast ambitions.”
“He certainly scares those he meets.”
“Yes, I was fortunate enough to have half an eye on your escapade with this poor Naghan fellow they slid down the chute. Unpleasant.”
He put up a hand to straighten his ever-toppling turban. Light glowed on him from a different angle from my small lamp. He went on: “The facts are easily established and quite simple. It is the interpretation that will present the puzzle. A long time ago, accounts vary, a great Wizard of Walfarg died. You now grasp the distinctions between a Wizard of Loh and a true Wizard of Walfarg, Jak?”
“Um, I trust so — although — still, no matter. Go on.”
“His power was truly great. There was an object — some say a bracelet, others a necklace, others a plastron, containing nine gems. Each gem looked like a ruby and was identical. With these nine jewels came the source of unimaginable power.” Here Deb-Lu stopped with one of his dry chuckles. “Well, Jak, unimaginable to most non-sorcerers, I suppose.”
“I see. So Na-Si-Fantong intends to collect all nine and set up as a master mage.”
“The power is very great, in sooth, very great.”
I realized I had been deceived by his manner. When he called me Jak, as he more often did in remembrance of our adventures together, he was relaxed and easy going. His struggle through the planes to reach me here and my obvious pleasure in seeing him had caused him to revert to Jak. But he was deadly serious. He mentioned power and he meant power. This Skantiklar was no apprentice sorcerer’s plaything.
His figure began to waver. I could see the wall through him.
I said: “Fantong has left Makilorn and given up the attempt to take the gem here. I do not know where he has gone.”
“I shall seek him and apprize you. I fear I must take my leave.”
Without a remberee he vanished.
Some force I didn’t understand and over which, it appeared, Deb-Lu had only partial control, must be interfering with his jaunts through the planes.
As for the story of the Skantiklar, interesting though that might be, it had no bearing on my nefarious dealings to come. The notion of an article of power being broken up and scattered and of some great wizard seeking all the parts, and joining them, and so making himself a master mage, whilst not new still retained a certain charm. As Deb-Lu had said, that was not the puzzle. The puzzle was just what Fantong wanted the power for. Still, at the sound of his name, I got that itch over the ‘Si’.
I stretched out and lay down and woke up to find Llodi shaking my shoulder. “Breakfast and Wr. Caspar is ready to go.”
So there was no need to ask if Llodi had been successful.
Chandro turned up late for the first breakfast, having had his religious observances to attend to. Mevancy kept smiling and looking brilliant yet she was clearly ill at ease. Llodi, who joined us, took things in his phlegmatic way. Kuong couldn’t sit still. Only Caspar appeared unconcerned, eating and drinking comfortably.
Somehow or other he and Mevancy got onto talking over the weapons an assassin might use. Caspar showed her the dagger he carried concealed in a scabbard under his robes. “This is a peaker. See, it has grooves for poison. Deadly in the right hands.” He resheathed the narrow blade. “Folk sometimes call me Caspar the Peaker.”
“Caspar the Peaker,” she said. She hadn’t liked that dagger. “Yes, it has a ring.”
Making sure I downed a handsome breakfast — there is something unwholesome about going into action on an empty stomach — I found myself idly wondering how Mevancy was reacting to her cabbage not only having an idea but actually persuading her amongst the others to go along with the plan. If there was going to be any silly nonsense about who was in command, I’d let them get on with squabbling. I didn’t want to have to come the heavy hand. But, by Krun, if I had to I would.
The way we agreed to work it was thusly: Llodi would act as assistant to Caspar, carrying his painting equipment. Kuong and Mevancy would wait for my return from my audience of the queen — and a pretty yarn I was going to have to spin Leone — with the body. Then we would go in and rendezvous with Caspar. It sounded simple; it would not be, inevitably.
“All the marks have been removed from my gherimcal.”
[4]
Chandro’s voice quavered. He was most unhappy at all this. Mevancy attempted to reassure him; but he shook that lean face, unhappy.
“A small quantity of wine, I think, even at this hour,” said Caspar.
They each had a thimbleful; I didn’t bother. I stared at Caspar.
“I do not envy you your task, dom. But I must ask again. Are you fully instructed in what is necessary? You are aware of the situation here in Makilorn, I know. But, in such a secret matter as the Kaopan?”
“They gave me full instructions.”
My val! I said to myself. What a difference in treatment! Could this incredible disparity simply be the result of my own intransigence? Surely, I’d slanged the Gdoinye and the Star Lords enough times, always believing them to be aloof from petty human emotions. Still and all — had I held them in awe, as Pompino and Mevancy and the other kregoinyi did, what might have been the result? We had aims in common. We ought, then, to work together. Since the last great defeat of the Shanks at Yumakrell, capital of Yumapan in Pandahem, little had been heard of them. Knowing them as I did I had no illusions they had sailed away to their own mysterious lands over the curve of the world. They bided their time to strike again. And the Star Lords had sent Mevancy and me, and now Caspar, to Tsungfaril.
I swallowed down. “Caspar — what did the Everoinye say of the Shanks?”
Clearly his mind had not followed the train of thought of mine. He was still wrapped up in the unpleasant business of mutilating the fresh corpse of a young girl. “Shanks?” he said, not looking up.
“You know, Shanks, Shants, Shtarkins, Schnooprins. By Vox, dom, you must have heard of them!”
His head snapped up. “Naturally — by Vox!” He made the oath significant.
I forced myself to pick up a biscuit from the dish. It was a Sweet Ordum, octagonal and nice. I chewed. Then: “Well?”
“They are also known as Schturgins and they come from Schan, the grouping of continents and islands on the other side of Kregen from Paz.”
My astonishment was at once quelled. Of course, the Star Lords would tell their favorite assassin far more than their most disregarded kregoinye. I went doggedly on: “Is there more known of them after Yumakrell?”
“There were more than that one band operating.” He looked at me as surprised I knew so little if I was a kregoinye. Mevancy, listening intently, had the sense to keep silent. “Another evil lot of Fish Heads are still attempting to subdue Mehzta.”
“I am glad to know they have not yet succeeded.”
“Yes, well, how long that can go on for, Opaz alone knows.”
“Yumakrell?”
“The Leem-Lovers retreated in great disorder. Luckily for them some of their airboats were still operational. With those and their ships — weird but wonderful craft — they made good their escape.”
All that had happened after the Witch of Loh, Csitra, had given her life in misguided love. Loriman the Hunter had gone in pursuit of the Shanks — well, he could be trusted never to give up a hunt.
“Did the Everoinye tell you where the Shanks had gone?”
He looked oddly at me again, and shook his head. “I begin to wonder if you are a true kregoinye or not! By t
he Blade of Kurin, Drajak! What is going on?”
“I don’t understand you.”
He made a little gesture with open palms as of resignation to a fool.
“Why d’ye think we’re all down here in this Opaz-benighted place?”
“Because the damned Star Lords sent us, that’s why, confound it!”
By the putrescent glistening eyeball and pendulous dripping nose of Makki Grodno! This fine fellow who knew it all had better spit out what he knew, and damn quick, by Zair!
He heaved up a sigh. “If they didn’t tell you there must be a reason. I can’t tell you if they don’t permit.”
If I’d been wearing a hat I’d have torn it off, thrown it on the floor and jumped up and down on it. By the tangled and nit-infested locks of the Divine Lady of Belschutz! What a carry-on!
Kuong and Chandro over at the other end of the room looked across at the sound of our raised voices. Llodi walked in half hidden by the easel and cases of paints and brushes. He called out: “All ready!”
Lowering my voice I said: “Look, dom. We’re all in this together. I’d like to know why I’m risking my neck. I mean, know particularly.”
As I spoke I think I began to gather in enough details to fill in the picture. I could see all the little pieces fitting together.
Slowly, I said: “Tell me, Caspar, is it not true that after we beat the Fish Heads at Yumakrell they fled southwards and passed between Loh and Havilfar, and rounding southern Loh landed somewhere along the west coast?” I studied him, and added quickly: “Or, they fled northwards past the Hoboling Islands and rounded Erthyrdrin and sailed south in the Cyphren Sea and, again, landed on the west coast of Loh.”
Kuong called across: “All set?”
“Ready,” replied Mevancy. Then, in a fierce whisper: “Whichever way the Leem Lovers went, they’re on the west coast of Loh. They’re in Tarankar!”
“Well, of course,” said Caspar, moving off to pick up his scrip. “And they’ll be in Tsungfaril soon if we don’t get a queen and college who will stand up to them. Wenda!”
[5]
So out we trooped about our nefarious business, not just to save Leone and put Queen Kirsty on the throne but to start the process of saving all Tsungfaril and surrounding parts of Loh from the marauding and merciless Shanks.
Chapter twenty
The smells off the river wafted rich and pungent even this early in the day. Slaves would be sweating their insides out all over the city, hauling and lifting, cleaning and scrubbing. The ever-present tang of dust in the air slicked a gritty film on tongue and lips. All in all, as we walked on to Queen Leone’s palace, an average day in Makilorn.
So this was all about the Shanks! Well, I suppose I ought to have known that, to have realized earlier that the Star Lords would not abandon the crusade we had struck up together to halt and throw back the reivers from over the curve of the world.
As for this fancy Caspar Del Vanian, Caspar the Peaker — the name Peaker made me imagine that he ought to run a chain of restaurants — his intrusion into the schemes was welcome and meant that the Star Lords were bringing in the heavy weapons. I’d known for a long time that I was their boy they threw in when other folk fouled up — as in the fire where I’d met Mevancy.
Mevancy at the moment was garbed in a long man’s robe, a burnous-like garment, and was at the back end of the gherimcal. Kuong carried the front end. He was clad in simple clothes, with nothing of the lord about him. I walked at the side, one hand steadying the chair. In the chair sat the corpse.
Much as we were all acting as a group of automata, appearing just to go on straight ahead without reflection, in reality each one of us remained supremely aware of what we were doing. Our own desires, our own fears, had to be put aside. If Shang-Li-Po could not be erased from the problem, then the queen must be changed to one who would boldly front the Shanks. As far as I was aware, and I had had extensive experience of the Fish Heads, there was absolutely no question of parleying with them. They did not talk to the inhabitants of Paz. They slew them. Sometimes they took a few slaves to ease their daily burdens. I often felt the poor unfortunates taken as slaves would wish they had been killed first.
Being a cautious old leem-hunter I was well aware that I could not altogether trust Caspar. Like all the other servants of the Star Lords I had met, he stood in mortal fear and awe of them. And, rightfully so, I supposed. He’d agreed to go along with the plan. I knew without the shadow of a doubt that he’d plunge his poisoned peaker into Leone if that became necessary in his view.
The closed ochre curtains of the carrying chair concealed the occupant. I must admit as we trudged along that I felt profoundly thankful that Llodi with Chandro’s influence had found a dead young girl easily enough. I didn’t stop to wonder what I’d have done had no corpse been available and the conspirators taken up a living girl. I know what the Dray Prescot of seasons ago would have done, and been banished to Earth for his pains.
Luz and Walig shone down refulgently this early and twinned shadows lay sharp edged in ruby and jade. There was no wind. I tasted the dust in the air and hardly noticed the smell of the few flowers allowed to grow in the square before the palace. Kuong led around the kyro to a rear entrance.
The guard here was a Fristle. The cat-man looked bored out of his skull and his scimitar, the Fristles’ racial weapon, remained scabbarded.
The admission Chandro had signed and sealed got us in without the slightest hindrance. Quickly we passed through a gaggle of slaves carrying water jars. We pushed on deeper into the rear quarters of the palace until we reached as far as it was sensible to venture. I knew the layout here and without any fuss, seizing the opportunity when the corridor was empty, we passed through a secret door into a cobwebby passage parallel to the main corridor. Here the gherimcal was set down.
Kuong licked his lips. “I can only wish you good fortune, Drajak. May the beneficent Tsung-Tan smile on you.”
Mevancy said: “Cabbage! May Gahamond have you in his keeping — and, by Spurl! Take care!”
What she didn’t say, because Kuong listened, was something like: “And don’t make a mess of it for the sweet sake of the Everoinye!”
Making sure the corridor was clear I slid out of the secret panel and set off for the queen’s quarters.
By this time, according to the plan’s calculations, Caspar should be setting up the easel and organizing his paints and brushes, making a show. He’d do a preliminary sketch first. Llodi would stand in attendance.
The guard slapped their strangdjas in a cross before the silver-bound doors. I said: “Pass word to the queen. Tell her Drajak the Sudden craves audience on the matter we discussed. She will see me immediately.”
I put on the harsh domineering manner so unpleasantly easy to me.
They jumped.
All too soon one came panting back, calling: “Pass Drajak the Sudden through! Bratch!” Then he added: “The queen took fire at his name!”
Well, poor soul, I was duping her. I’d have to apologize most abjectly afterwards — if we were all still alive. As for Dray Prescot apologizing, well, in this case that was no marvel, by Zair.
With a couple of Khibils as escort I stomped through the elaborate passageways and ante-rooms until a door of ivory was flung open and I was ushered into a smallish room where a skylight admitted an opaline radiance.
The easel was set up. The boxes of paints were thrown open. Caspar looked up. Llodi was standing in a corner, motionless. Leone, dressed in a simple shift-like white garment, sat on a plain chair. To one side stood a wicker frame draped with a gown smothered in an emperor’s fortune in gems. This was all to plan.
At each side of the gemmed gown stood a Khibil guard, alert, ready to protect the gems. At each side of Leone stood two more, equally alert, ready to protect the queen. This was not in the plan.
By the Black Chunkrah! I said to myself. We couldn’t plan our way out of an earthenware pot!
Ergo — the plan must c
hange.
“Drajak!” exclaimed Leone, her color high, her breast heaving, her eyes bright, her breath short — all the Clishdrin descriptives applying to a poor girl in her infatuated condition. “I am glad to see you—” About then she realized she had an audience. “Leave me!” she commanded, waving one slender hand at the guards.
At the sharpness of the command Llodi jumped forward and slammed down the lid of the nearest paintbox, all set to clear out. The guards did not move. Caspar remained at the easel, his bright eyes watching, calculating.
The room was smallish. That meant in a palace it was four or five times the size of an ordinary mortal’s dining room. From the shadows of the far end emerged the columnar figure and granite features of Shang-Li-Po. The redness of his robes blazed in the room. His chain of office coruscated about his neck. Here was a man who knew full well the power he wielded and who intended to maintain and increase that power no matter who might be crushed underfoot on the way. The granite lips barely moved.
“It would not be wise, queen, to dismiss the guards.”
His gaze rested unflinchingly upon me. He knew who I was all right! By that, I do not mean he knew I was Dray Prescot. In me he saw an adversary employed by his enemies.
Leone’s face flushed even more deeply. Her head lifted. “San Ranal,” she said, her voice husky, and I had to remind myself that Shang-Li-Po was San Ranal the Kaour. “This man is a friend — and, soon, to be more than just a friend!”
“That may be so, queen. Also, many a wight has aspired and found his ambitions among the stranks of the river.”
You couldn’t say fairer than that, by Krun!
She half-turned to the dikaster, flustered, not quite sure how to react. She was held, too, by her nature of obedience. I fancy Kirsty in similar circumstances would have told Shang-Li-Po where he could go.
I said: “Please forgive me, Leone. I had not realized you were so engaged. Allow me to leave you — for now.”
She bit her lip, then: “And you will return? As you promise?”
“Oh, yes, Leone, I shall return.”
Scorpio Assassin Page 17