"I lay still, my mind racing. The overmaster! He had ordered the guards killed, there was no doubt of it. Of the launch itself, well, words can never do justice to it. I rigged up straps to hold myself in place and lay in cushioned by the air-stone crystal bags. I could feel water gently rocking the Moonbird. The vessel was light, and certainly light enough to float. I knew that the water was rising, floating the Moonbird into the base of a column of aetheric energies that extended fifty miles above the mountain and into the sky.
"I felt the shudder of the most massive concentration of etheric energies in all our world's history through six inches of ceramic wall. Etheric energies surged through the copper coils embedded in the Moonbird's structure, easing the vessel out of the water. More copper coils encountered more etheric energies. Within the space of three beats of a heart belonging to someone in a fairly agitated state, our craft was drawn out of the water and flung up the shaft at an acceleration in excess of twelve times the ground force on our world.
"A mighty weight pressed me down into the bags of airstone, and there was a terrible rumble and shuddering. Then I blacked out, and I remember no more until I awoke to no sound, shuddering, or weight at all.
"Of the flight through the void, there is little to say. I hung in my tethers for most of the time, floating, completely without weight. The crew slept at the same time, and it was then that I floated out of my hiding place to steal food and drink from the stores. I wrapped my wastes with care and packed them down among the airstone bags. As long as the air was not foul, I knew the crew would not check my refuge.
"I knew that the Moonbird was to encounter the third moonworld, yours, at the end of the journey. It was to fly down to the surface on etheric wings cast by the commander. The Moonbird would not land gently, but the shock was not expected to kill the crew. They would then unscrew the hatch, emerge, and begin their studies of your world. They were to urge your overmasters to build enormous mirrors, that could flash messages between our two worlds. It was to be the most grand, glorious scholarly exchange of learning in all of time.
"I overheard the rogue crewmen speaking, however, and what I heard shocked me. They were not on a mission to spread Lupanian knowledge and study Verral, they were setting out to conquer it. You see, the ether about Gigant, the lordworld, is strongest at your world's path around it. We of Lupan have lived our lives developing control over a much smaller background of ether. Now here, on Verral, we have vastly better powers of command over your ether.
"Lupan's orbit is in an area of lesser etheric energies, and thus we Lupanians have to be better at its control, storage, and focusing. You have always had more than you know what to do with, and have not had to bother. Our glasswalkers can gather together vast energies, then use them via the heat weapon casting. Our healers are also able to bleed off energies into patients to hold them back from the edge of death while transforming their bodies into the image of whatever is healthy. I did this for you, and I am doing this for the woman Lavenci—but that is another matter.
"The landing was worse than the launching. There was some etheric cushioning, and the craft was designed to lose speed by skimming through the soil for a distance, but it was rough. Once down, I remained in hiding. The crew were not expecting there to be anyone else aboard, so I watched and waited for a chance to escape. When I saw them preoccupied with that attack by your cavalry, I ran in the opposite direction. You know the rest."
>: >:
After we had finished speaking, I stood up stretched, then walked aft to where the morris men were sitting. I took their leader aside.
"I don't believe we have exchanged names," I said.
"Jael. Jael Jinger."
"I am Inspector Danolarian Scryverin." "Oh! Surely not the Scryverin who played the sun down on Alpindrak?"
"Why yes," I replied, surprised yet again at how far the story of what I had done had traveled.
"Oh grand! Truly grand. Where are your pipes, then?"
"Wrapped in waxcloth, in my pack."
"Later, like before docking, might we try a tune? Got my flute here."
"I shall look forward to it."
"I'm the dancing master here. Like, we have two pairs to dance and one pair to play music, but my son's just joined as a dancer, so I'm taking a break to play music while he practices his steps." With that he elbowed me in the ribs.
'The girls go for the dancers more than the musicians, you know." I was only too aware of that, after a certain dance in Gatrov.
"Aye, but the musicians get free drinks," I managed.
"That's why I do both!" he chuckled, elbowing me again.
"Look, could you, well, handle the barge while I conduct some ... difficult business. Discipline, and all that. A constable."
"Oh lordworld! Discipline of one of your own constables?"
"Yes. Watch the drama unfold, Jael, look upon it as a free show by a troupe of strolling players."
I walked the length of the barge, then sat down at the bow, wondering how to raise a particularly sensitive and delicate matter. If I am wrong? Just say I might be wrong. There is scope for great damage here. Azorian and Lavenci were sitting about ten feet away, their hands joined in his healing enchantment. Pelmore and Riellen were sitting opposite them. Wallas came sauntering down the deck of the barge, with Solonor marching beside him. The gnome had his tiny spear at his shoulder. Wallas hopped onto my lap. Solonor stood leaning on his spear.
"Wallas, do you recall me giving Riellen a letter to post at Mallow Landing, two months ago?" I asked in the softest of voices.
"Indeed sir. I remember saying at the time that it was the thickest letter I had ever seen."
"It was not entered in the postal register there. I checked, just before the fifth cylinder landed on top of the tavern."
Wallas thought about this for a while.
"Sir, I happened to be sitting behind Azorian yesterday, when Riellen and Lavenci came to the bow for some privacy. They had a very interesting talk about you. Nobody noticed me, but that's both the blessing and curse of being a cat."
"Indeed? What did they say?"
"Sir ... permission to speak in a much louder voice, and ask you some leading questions?" "Permission granted."
Wallas jumped off my lap, sprayed over the edge of the barge, stretched, then returned to my lap.
"So, back to Alberin again, city of expensive delights, exorbitantly priced wonders, and a quick and messy death for anyone with a large purse and a trusting nature," he said in a strident voice.
"Until the Lupanians arrive, anyway," I added as I leaned back against the bowlamp pole.
"I'm for those city gnomes and their taverns," said Solonor.
"Gnomes have taverns?" exclaimed Wallas.
"Aye, and establishments of pleasure," said Solonor earnestly. "Heard all about 'em from a cousin who used to hunt rats on the barges. Loose morals, they have."
"And what about you, Wallas?" I asked, scratching him behind the ears. "Still sticking to that nonsense that you never lay a paw upon female cats?"
"My spirit has pure morals and the most lofty of ideals, Inspector, but the flesh of lady cats is warm, soft, and covered in silky fur," Wallas conceded.
"So what's your pleasure, sir? A pint, a pie, and a poke?"
"You have such a charming turn of phrase, Wallas." i "But what will your pleasure be, sir?"
"Not sure. I feel... oddly different. You know, I am relaxed now, yet I have no headache. I do believe that Azorian accidentally cured my predilection to headaches when he repaired the damage of the poison. It will be such a pleasant change to have a night off without the prospect of a headache once I began to relax. It's been so long, I've almost forgotten how to court a girl."
"Do what everyone else does. Hire one." 1 "Wallas, in three years, have you ever known me to do that?" I asked, speaking a little more slowly and clearly. I noticed Lavenci's head snap around.
"Well, no," Wallas replied. "Have you, Riellen?" Riellen hunched over s
lightly, then shook her head almost imperceptibly. There was a sharp hiss of breath being sucked between Lavenci's teeth.
"Have you ever paid, sir?"
"Yes, once I did pay. It was Madame Jilli's in Palion. That was to celebrate surviving a rather nasty little battle, and I was alone in Palion for the first time. I hired a girl, took her out to dinner, walked her back to Madame Jilli's, kissed her goodnight, and returned to my hostelry." Wallas gave me a particularly intense feline stare.
"Did you not forget to do something rather important and pleasant?"
"I was pretending to be welcomed back from battle by my adoring sweetheart, Wallas."
"For goodness' sake, Inspector!" exclaimed Wallas. "Are you trying to tell me that an adoring sweetheart would not have raised her skirts for you?"
"You don't understand chivalrous courtship and true romance, Wallas."
"From the sound of it, I'd not want to, either. Well, what about getting drunk for a change? I've never seen you do that, either."
"What? For three years past I've had enough problems with migraines without wanting hangovers as well. Nobody knows that as well as you and Riellen."
"No dalliance, no wine, no gambling," said Wallas, shaking his head. "I suppose you will be off to the library for your usual pastime, reading filthy poetry of the twenty-seventh century."
"And looking at the pictures, thank you Wallas. Allow me my few little vices."
"Any o' them pictures got gnomes doin' it?" asked Solonor hopefully.
"You should come with me, Constable Solonor, and see for yourself. You too, Wallas." "Me sir?"
"Yes. You're an arsehole, Wallas, but you know how to be a friend."
"All part of being a cat, sir."
It was now that I tipped Wallas a wink, for Lavenci had turned away to disengage her hands from Azorian's. Slowly, steadily, like a very powerful and highly dangerous siege engine being wheeled into place, she stood up. She flexed her left hand. From where I was, it looked to be almost healed.
"Inspector, a word with you?" Lavenci said in a voice that was so acidic that it was a wonder her lips did not smoke and blister.
"Certainly, Ladyship, for a rare moment I have all the time in the world," I replied.
"I think that was an oxymoron, sir," said Wallas. I casually took Wallas by the scruff of the neck, then held him out over the water.
"Wallas, do you know what I want you to do?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, shut up and let her ladyship speak," the cat replied patiently. I put him back on the deck. Riellen was sitting hunched over, and seemed to have shrunk. Lavenci, by contrast seemed taller than a Lupanian tripod tower, and no less fearsome. She flexed her newly healed left hand, then stared directly at me.
"Riellen told me that she..." Lavenci paused. Riellen cringed a little more.
"How can I put this delicately? That she procured the services of many lamplight women for the delight of a member of your squad."
"Really?" I asked. "They couldn't have been for Roval. Perhaps they were for Wallas?"
"What would / do with them?" asked Wallas, sitting down and licking a paw in rare embarrassment.
"Don't go fer ladies more than a few inches taller then me-self," said Solonor.
"Well / certainly never saw them," I added. "Did you in fact say that, Constable Riellen?"
To her credit, Riellen managed to rally herself. She sat up straight and puffed out what there was of her chest.
"Her Ladyship must have misheard me," she declared.
"I did not!" barked Lavenci, stamping her foot.
"Well, who is to know, and what harm done?" I said soothingly. "Actually, speaking of doing harm, Pelmore, I do believe I have done you a little injustice," I called to the prisoner, who was still sitting near Riellen.
"How so?" he muttered sourly.
"I did not search everyone else for daemonglare berries yesterday. There might have been someone else trying to poison me. I have many enemies, after all. You might even get company for your hanging."
"Is that meant to cheer me?"
I took the ax from my belt and banged three times on the deck with the butt.
"I declare a field inquiry to be in session," I declared. "Usual rules of conduct apply. Now, everyone forward of the handling beasts turn out your pouches and bags."
All pouches and bags were produced and turned out Nothing suspicious was found, of course.
"Your own pack remains strapped tight," Pelmore observed.
"Obnoxious though you are, you do have a point," I replied. "My pack should be searched, and Riellen's."
Riellen brought the packs over, then began to unbuckle a strap.
"No, Constable Riellen, I'll do the investigating, but thank you anyway. We'll start with my pack. What have we here? Half bag of trail biscuits, compass, code book, official orders, border papers, chip of Lupanian ceramic, farsight, spare florins, almanac, Epic Love Poetry of the Eastern Draken-ridge Mountains, Erotic Alberinese Poetry of the Twenty-Seventh Century—I'll leave that one out for you, Solonor, it's illustrated and I think it has gnomes in it. What else? Tinder-box, writing kit, seventh edition of What Predator is That?, package of dried fish for Wallas, Field Medicares Handbook, field medicar's pack, field medicar's crest plate made out to Danolarian Scryverin, Laws of Greater Alberin for Field Magistrates, one half-empty waterskin, and a set of bagpipes in waxcloth. Better leave those out too, I've been asked for a tune later."
I repacked quickly, with the speed and efficiency of experience. Now it was the turn of Riellen to have a public viewing of her pack's contents on the deck.
'Two bags of trail biscuits, eleven books, waterskin, change of clothing, sewing kit, compass, writing kit, sheaf of pamphlets, almanac, combination tinderbox and medicar's kit but... no daemonglare berries."
"May I repack, sir?"
"Yes—but what is this book?" I asked, picking up a battered leatherbound volume. "The binding is in the Torean style."
"Oh, an obscure text on Torean representative government experiments at village level."
Until I had heard Riellen's lies while Azorian had been dragging me back from the edge of death, I would not have bothered to look more closely at the book. Now, however, I was not inclined to be trusting. I opened the book and glanced through the pages, which had a very odd texture, and were of quite thick parchment.
"Oi, this woman's got a gnome down her cleavage!" exclaimed Solonor, who had managed to heave open Erotic Al-berinese Poetry of the Twenty-Seventh Century on the deck. "Headfirst, too."
"This is in a Torean scholarly language," I said casually, riffling through Riellen's book. "In fact it's Larmentalian." Over the top of the book I saw Riellen's eyes bulge. "My Larmentalian is a little creaky ... Looks like A Gathering of Herbology, Hedgerow Castings, and. .. hmm, these words are a bit archaic. Looks like Wyfe Knowings, Part the First. Strange, too, that each page has a name instead of a number."
There was a moment of chilly silence in the hot summer air.
"How's he breathin'?" said Solonor, standing on my book of poetry and gazing down at the illustration.
"Perhaps he is being executed," suggested Wallas.
"Bleedin' hell, what a way to go. What's on the next page? Cor, look at that!
He's lickin' her—"
"Constable Solonor! You too, Constable Wallas. Close that book and pay attention, this is meant to be an official hearing."
"Yes sir!" they chorused.
"Now Riellen, please explain about your book."
"It's not the book I thought it was, sir. I was keeping it until I could get it translated."
"But you do read scholarly Larmentalian, Constable?"
"Well, yes, but only slowly."
"Well now, perhaps I can help ... now here's a page that sets me a-worrying. Cocassien, the colorless, tasteless component of the caffin spice. Ah, and how clever! Each page is a packet, with a little sample of the substance within. Yes, there is a powder inside the package. I'd best avoid
that one, it triggers excruciatingly severe migraines in people like me." Lavenci glared intently at Riellen. Riellen had frozen in panic, and was not even blinking.
"What else is within this book?" I said, with a little more sarcasm in my tone. "Here is an interesting little brew... mix ... boil while chanting when Miral is full. .. tears of a virgin, standing naked... administer two strands of hair from the couple ... may be kept in a phial for seven months and one day. No ... release, I think is the word, other than seven years from the death of one partner. To commence allurement glamour and so draw couple together, tie hairs together in a
knot... burn knotted hairs to activate ... continuation beauty ... or does that translate as constancy glamour?"
"I liberated it from, er, a library," said Riellen in a soft, hollow monotone.
"In Gatrov. I had thought to study it, and possibly find a way to lift the glamour on Revolutionary Sister Lavenci."
"It says here Riellen Tallier, Clovesser Academy of Applied Sorceric Arts, and the year is 3041," I pointed out, glancing inside the cover board.
"I, er ..."
I paused to let Riellen complete her reply, but she was beyond replies by now.
"You could easily have secured hairs from Pelmore and Lavenci in the crush of the dance crowd." I continued, hardening my own tone quite suddenly. "A coin slipped to a serving maid, nothing easier. You wove glamours about Pelmore and Lavenci, an allurement glamour to draw them together, then a constancy glamour to bind them fast. That was why Lavenci was suddenly allured to that pig, and why he specifically chose her after winning the tourney dance. You did it because you thought she was paying court to me."
"Sir, no, no!" wailed Riellen with her hands held over her ears.
"Have you anything more specific to say to this hearing than no?" I asked. Riellen fell silent, and did not look up. I heard the hiss of air as Lavenci took a deep breath, held it for a moment, decided not to speak words that would probably have etched glass, then exhaled again.
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