"Beg pardon, my lord, I..."
Aeswiren stopped him with a hand and a craggy smile. "I want you to get your men into arms and readiness for action, understood? We have to stop this, and stop it now!"
Culchep and the others clattered off. The swarm of Red Tops in the distance was heading their way.
"Come," said Aeswiren, and he hurried back up the passage, toward the southern end of the palace. The men would put up a fight, he was sure, but the Red Tops would overwhelm them in the end. The Old One would have mobilized several battalions for the job, just in case.
They entered the sinostile, crossed the gallery above the indoor gardens, and ran down a staircase that lead to a secret door.
On the landing above the hidden door, they found Bayrid and Chebble, high-ranking members of the Fierce Fists, accompanied by a pair of puzzled-looking guards.
"Your Majesty," said Bayrid, bowing low. The others bowed deeply.
"My lord, you have been hurt. Come, let us escort you to a place of safety."
Chebble stepped forward, his hand moving back toward the hilt of his sword.
Despite his wounds, Aeswiren didn't hesitate, nor did Klek. Their swords flashed first, and they drove forward, spitted Bayrid and Chebble, and dropped them to the cold stone floor.
The guards stared at the Emperor, perplexed by this unimaginable violence.
"These men were traitors," said Aeswiren. "There has been an attempt on the Emperor's life. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord." The men went down on one knee.
"Are you loyal to your Emperor?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Then, come with me and be prepared to sell your lives dearly. Bring those torches from the torchere."
There was a sharp twinge from the wound along his rib cage. The blood had crusted and matted his shirt to his skin, and when he lifted his shoulder it pulled the wound apart painfully. Damn! He'd almost paid with his life back there. He cursed himself. How could he have been so blind?
They went down another floor and lit one of the torches. The walls were of brick and mortar, a passage led off to the right, another to the left. Aeswiren stepped across to the far wall and counted the layers of bricks up from the stone-flagged floor. At the ninth brick he felt along until his fingers ran across a sharp line in the surface. He pressed hard and felt something resist, then slowly give way. With a loud click a section of the wall, from the ninth brick down, swung open. A dark passage, smelling of damp, was revealed at the bottom of the wall.
To enter, one had to wriggle under on one's back. Once inside, there was room to stand up in a passage that one could easily reach across with one arm. They lit another torch that highlighted brick walls dwindling to nothingness in the distant murk.
Aeswiren led the way, moving as quickly as he could manage, though it cost him. He prayed his ribs weren't broken. The passage would take them into the city. But getting out of the city would not be so easy. Shasht's defensive walls, which only enclosed the central part of the sprawling metropolis, were tight. Aeswiren had bricked up three secret adits himself.
After a few minutes walking down the damp passageway, they came to a heavy brick grating. They pushed on the inside of the disk, and after an initial effort they were able to swing the grating open and step outside. They found themselves in a marble-lined trench that ran behind the great fountain of Pelas in the plaza of Norgeeben.
They peered out from behind the fountain. The city seemed quiet, but watchful. Hidden in a crack behind the bulk of the fountain they were safely out of view, but once they crossed the street they would risk detection.
They had no choice. They slipped across, torches doused, hurrying for the safety of the shadows on the far side. No cry of alarm came. The Red Tops were elsewhere for that moment.
They hurried down the street. A few faces looked out from behind shuttered windows. The word was out that Red Tops were in the palace. The Emperor had fallen. Few folk were brave enough to be out on the streets. To be taken by the Red Tops now would guarantee a quick trip to the altar of the Great God.
By happenstance they took the right fork at Nebo's Column and found themselves on Harbor Street. But Red Tops were patrolling and spotted them.
Now they had to run for it, since about five or six Red Tops were heading their way at a brisk trot.
"Hurry," snarled Aeswiren, legging it painfully back to the circle of Nebo's Column. They ran on, taking a smaller street past humble warehouses and factories. Red Tops came from behind. They took another turn, and slipped through a narrow alley into an old part of the city that was a warren of small streets and yellow brick houses.
They took lefts and rights at random, and soon lost the Red Tops. Purple in the face, Aeswiren paused for breath, but they could hear the Red Tops bellowing back and forth several streets away. After catching their breath, they moved on quietly, the two guards at front and rear and the Emperor and Klek in the middle.
At the end of a narrow street filled with two-story brick houses, they came out on a plaza in front of the old Mission Hospital. The hospital was set back behind a walled yard and lit up by a series of big oil lamps placed along the front. A few people were gathered outside the gate, ragged beggars primarily. The gate was open and inside were gathered a hundred or more wretches, from lepers to amputees.
The Emperor didn't miss the irony that he was now hiding among the lowest strata of society. Well, he hadn't been born to noble status, and he didn't share the common snobbery of Shasht.
Still, they obviously couldn't hide in the courtyard. They stood out simply because they were well fed, let alone wearing blood-covered armor. So they pushed through to the main door. Four stout young men stood guard with staves, under the direction of an older eunuch.
The sight of these guards and men covered in blood brought the young men to attention. They were ready to repel looters no matter who they were.
Fortunately the old eunuch, Penukles, recognized the Emperor at once. Penukles had heard the rumors. He also knew that Filek Biswas was a favorite of Aeswiren. He motioned for the guards to let the Emperor and his retinue through without further ado. Secrecy was certain to be vital.
A pervasive smell of alcohol and hot water wafted through the hospital's broad corridors. They turned a corner into a large hallway surfaced in white plaster. A group of slaves scrubbed the floor.
Penukles ran ahead of them, opening doors and calling up the stairs.
A young man named Mushuq, the director met them at the next landing.
"Your Majesty, can we assist you? It seems that you are wounded."
"Thank you. Where is Biswas?"
"I think he slept in the laboratory again. I tell him to go home, but he says it's too far and he sleeps on a cot in there."
"That sounds like Biswas. A hard worker, I like that in a man. Bring him to me now."
"Ah, yes, Your Majesty." Director Mushuq bowed low. Penukles and another eunuch were sent scurrying away to fetch Biswas.
Aeswiren and Klek stood there, the two guards facing the door, while Director Mushuq bobbed up and down in embarrassment. He, too, had heard the rumors. He knew he might be endangering his own life by allowing the Emperor to remain here unchallenged. Once a purge began, it could become very widespread.
Aeswiren paid little attention. His side hurt, his legs ached, and he was bone-tired from the aftereffects of the fight with Hesh, the lack of sleep, and the flight through the city.
A cry from the floor above broke the tableau.
"Here I am, Your Majesty." Filek appeared, running down the steps with Penukles behind him.
"Good to see you, Biswas. We have some cuts to be seen to. You know Klek."
Filek nodded to the formidably muscled Klek. He had hardly ever spoken to him before, but he knew of his reputation. Looking back to Aeswiren, he saw that the chain mail hung off the Emperor's torso. There was blood everywhere.
"My lord?"
"Aye, there has been treachery. It'
s failed so far, though."
"Treachery? May all the traitors die a horrible death! Come, we must go to the surgery at once."
Turning to Mushuq, Filek assumed control of the situation. He could see that Mushuq was nervous, obviously calculating his chances of staying off the altar of He Who Eats.
"Director, I will see to the Emperor's wound. I think we should post the guards and tell no one that the Emperor is here."
"No one," said Mushuq.
"Absolutely no one," repeated Filek.
Mushuq's eyes betrayed his panic. He leaned toward Filek. "But what if the priests come?"
"Not very likely. There are only poor people here. But if they come, send them away again. They have no business here."
Mushuq blanched, but bit his lip.
Filek looked up, Klek had noticed the director's ambivalence. Mushuq saw the look in Klek's eye and became even more frightened.
"No one," repeated Mushuq in a whisper.
Filek leaned close. "Remember, the Emperor was beaten three times before he became Emperor. Aeswiren will come back."
Mushuq nodded. He had decided to keep silent about all this, it was the safest policy. Opening your mouth to the priests could send you to the altar. It was far better not to earn their attention in the first place.
Moments later in the surgery, Filek helped Aeswiren remove the mail shirt.
"Thankfully you were wearing this mail, otherwise you would be dead."
"Thankfully, Klek was there. In truth, without him I would be lying on the floor back there. Klek, old friend, you saved your Emperor's life today."
Klek grinned.
"Not for the first time, eh?"
Aeswiren laughed, then gave a hiss as Filek went to work.
"Damn the priests," said Filek as he used tweezers to pull rings of mail out of the wound where they'd been driven in by the blow. Aeswiren gave small grunts every so often during this process.
"Red Tops are running wild in the palace at this very moment."
Filek shivered. He understood what that meant. His comfortable life here was over. Filek gave an inner sigh. Once again his work would be delayed. But, he swore to himself, he would survive. And thank the Gods he had made copies of all the important diagrams. He would take them with him.
"I have to leave the city at once."
Filek nodded. "I know of a way."
"How?"
"We are loading a wagon with the recently deceased patients. They go to the mortuary in the morning."
The first light of day was just beginning to color the sky in the east. A few cocks started to crow in the old quarter.
A drum thundered briefly from the temple, welcoming the gift of another day of life. Filek cleaned the Emperor's wounds and sewed them up as quickly as possible. Aeswiren bit down on the leather during the needle work. Filek was quick and efficient. It was done in less than two minutes, but it was long enough for the Emperor to sweat profusely as he struggled not to scream.
When it was over he looked Filek in the eye, while he sobbed for breath.
"Thank you, my friend. You understand that you no longer have protection from the priests."
"I understand, Your Majesty. I cannot stay here. The first micro-scope has been hidden. The second one is too big to hide and will be destroyed. We are resigned to this, but I have already sent one of my assistants away into hiding. He will know everything that I know. If conditions improve, he may be able to complete the work himself."
Aeswiren nodded. "You have shown foresight, perhaps better than my own." Filek knew not to answer that as he turned to Klek's wounds, which were more numerous, but less serious.
"And your daughter, I warned her to leave the city."
"She did, my lord. I have a message readied for her. It is in code so that if it is intercepted no one will know my real words."
"Biswas, perhaps you should have entered the service of the Hand." Filek smiled and bowed at such a compliment from the Emperor. His thoughts went with young Per, who was heading north at that very moment with Filek's message to Simona.
A eunuch knocked to interrupt. There came a hurried whisper to Filek.
"Red Tops have been in the yard, but no one told them that the Emperor was here. The poor folk love you, my lord."
"I wish they had better reason. Damn..."
Aeswiren thought of all the ideals he had brought with him when he took the throne. Precious little had survived the rough-and-tumble of real political life.
Klek gave a small grunt of pain, then fell silent as Filek sewed a cut on Klek's thigh. Klek was as tough as old leather. Aeswiren wished he was, too. Filek finished the sewing, applied bandages, and then packed away his tools.
"We must put our plan into operation quickly, Your Majesty. There's considerable traffic out of the city at first light. We must be among it."
"You wish to come?"
"If Your Majesty will allow it. I thought I would ride beside the driver. Yourself and Klek would be hidden among the bodies."
Within a few minutes all had been arranged. The Emperor and Klek were buried so deeply under the layers of dead patients, they could scarcely breathe. The two guards remained behind, with orders to return to barracks unobtrusively and await developments. If all went well, they would be handsomely rewarded when Aeswiren returned.
The mortuary wagon started up at the crack of the whip, and pulled by a pair of horses it rolled out of the hospital side gate and into the street. Ten minutes later it was wedged in a solid mass of traffic that slowly inched its way out of the gate past a mixture of guards and Red Tops, who scrutinized every passing vehicle.
Filek watched the Red Tops with mounting tension. The driver seemed unconcerned. The Red Tops searched every wagon, even pulled chests down from carriages and forced them open.
The mortuary wagon finally drew abreast of the pack of Red Tops. Filek and the driver kept their heads low while the Red Tops asked who they were and where they were going. Red Tops jumped up onto the wagon and poked among the bodies. Here and there they stabbed down with spear points, to be sure that all were truly dead. One thrust into Aeswiren's calf. Aeswiren was taken by surprise by the sudden pain, and gave a tiny squeak before he cut off his response.
Filek gave a quick cough to cover the sound. The Red Top cursed him loudly and stabbed down again, this time digging into Aeswiren's groin. The squeak was not repeated. The Red Top stabbed down in a couple of other places, but only struck the dead. Finally he gave up and jumped down. Filek released his breath and felt the blood return to his face. He didn't dare move in case he trembled too much.
The wagon was finally passed by the Red Tops. The whip cracked, and they rumbled on through the gate and into Outer Shalba.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Four days later, the Emperor stood in the well of the fishing smack Zuppe as she sailed into the hidden harbor on Rat Island. Eighty miles off the coast from Fishguard, the Noh Islands were mostly uninhabitable crags, home to vast colonies of seabirds. A few tiny fishing hamlets existed on the largest isles, further north. It was a cold day, grey and overcast, with a useful breeze from the west, which the Zuppe rode in before on a single small sail.
Rat Island had no population, but it did have a small patch of level ground, set between two sharp crags. A harbor with a fishing station had long served the cod fishermen who worked the southern banks. The station looked deceptively ramshackle. In fact the interior was in good repair. Aeswiren had bought the island early in his reign. It was a very well-kept secret.
From the window of the station, Nuza watched him step out of the boat. She knew him at once, despite the shabby bulk of homespun he wore. He had a certain bearing that gave him away. It was part of the man, part of some inner force that shone out of him.
Two other men, very different men, climbed out of the boat onto the narrow dock and walked ashore behind the Emperor. One was short and wide shouldered and had a brutal air about him. Nuza had seen him before; he was the Emperor
's bodyguard. The other was the tall doctor, who she knew was Simona's father.
Nuza understood that if Aeswiren had come here himself, it meant he had lost the struggle in the capital. What that might mean for her, as well as for him, she was less sure of. It could mean further flight, more hiding. It could mean an early death. Nuza had sworn to kill herself rather than let herself be taken alive by the priests. But at least the waiting was over. She would soon know the worst.
He came in with a gust of wind, smelling of fish. With obvious relief he shed his grubby outer cloak and the waterproof hat the fishermen had forced on him. Nuza noted the glitter of chain mail under the wool jerkin. On his hip he carried sword and dagger. This was the Aeswiren she had never seen, the man of war.
"Lord Emperor, I am glad to see you alive and well." Nuza bowed. She had spoken in Shashti, which she had begun to understand. She had had to communicate with the guards and the young men who looked after her, as well as the fishing station, and that had increased her vocabulary enormously.
Aeswiren lit up as he realized what she'd said. He took her hand in his. Her heart went out to this rugged monster of a man as his eyes peered into hers. She observed that he had massive bandages under his shirt of mail.
"You are well?" he wanted to know. "They have treated you properly?" His eyes showed a tender concern. Nuza felt a slight flush in her skin. It was almost the look one expected in a lover.
"Oh, yes, my lord. They have been very good to me."
Aeswiren looked on into the room, and his eyes glittered. Two young operatives of the Hand waited there, kneeling, heads bowed.
"Good. You two, see to Klek and the doctor."
He looked back to her.
"By the grace of the Gods, we have been brought together again. I am thankful for that." He pulled her closer, and she reached out and put her hands on his upper arms and kissed him on the cheek.
This was not as strange as it had been the first time. The hairless skin, the heavy beard that was so alien to her were not as repulsive as they'd been. She'd grown used to seeing such things on men.
The Shasht War Page 31