I have a task for you.
Ah, great one, you honor me beyond my worth—
Yes, I do. Be silent and listen. You have the stone and water I commanded you to seek.
Yes, great one.
The time has come to turn them to our advantage. Call out your colleague and tell him to begin preparations for the spell itself. In the meantime, we will use the “bones and blood” to produce some results which will aid what you must do. Here she instructed the pet at large in what had to be done, and it agreed fulsomely with everything she suggested. That was just as well; certainly it suspected what she would do if it had dared to disagree.
Have you all the other ingredients you will need for the spell? she said.
Yes, great one, everything is prepared.
Then see to it. I will be watching you ... and it will be the worse for you if anything is done improperly. Death will be the first and least of the things that will happen. Do you understand?
It blubbered on the floor of its dream. That was most satisfactory. This one had few fears except of its own death, or of an unnatural one ... and she loved to inflame that. The pet little knew what she had planned for it some day ... and there was no point in its finding out just yet; that would jeopardize its effectiveness.
Go, then, and do my will. Remember that I see and know your every thought.
It blubbered more, and she withdrew, her tongue flickering in amusement at its tiny horror of her. Well, it was the best the creature could do. It would never achieve the great fear, the complex and terrible terror that one of her kind could have of another that was stronger or greater than itself. That was another thing that set her people apart from these slightly-more-than-beasts. She smiled slightly as she lay down again in the webwork, glancing about it.
Was this web drawing tighter? It looked as if it was.
No, surely. I am growing, that is all.
She settled down in the golden silence to watch the flickering fire of her power run along the tendrils of the plan ... about to come to fruition at last.
•
He swung into the office the next morning rather early, having made his good-byes around dawn, knowing that work would be piled up, and it would be as well if he was there to start handling it before too many questions were asked. In the aftermath, it turned out to be just as well; for at least he was there when Mraal came rushing into the office, at a most unusual hour for an Arpakh, and cranky to boot. Behind him came Krruth, looking most disturbed.
“Your useless policemrem,” Mraal shouted. “What’s the point of them if even they can’t defend themselves against what’s going on in this city? What are you doing, Reswen? How are we supposed to guarantee protection to the embassies and this city’s guests if even the police can’t take care of themselves—”
“Lord Arpakh,” Reswen said, restraining his temper with some difficulty. Being shouted at, especially in front of his staff, had never been one of his favorite things. Mraal fell silent, looking at him with surprise. “Please start at the beginning of what you have to tell me, rather than in the middle.”
“Don’t you get smart with me, my mrem,” Mraal said with heat. “If you had better control of your folk, we wouldn’t have these problems—”
Reswen controlled himself again, then turned to Krruth. “Two of our plainclothes people were very badly beaten early this morning,” Krruth said. “They were dumped down the road from the Lloahairi Embassy.”
“I see,” Reswen said, Damn them. Damn the Lloahairi! How am I going to get at those people to see what they’re up to with that wretched Easterner? “Lord Arpakh,” Reswen said, “it is entirely possible that if you had not ordered me off the investigation of Ambassador Shalav’s murder, and had not ordered me to withdraw the normal surveillance of the Lloahairi, this would not have happened. They alone of all the embassies in the city have chosen to protest against the surveillance that everyone understands goes on when another country has an embassy in a city not allied to them. And now, as a result, their people have their spies out among our own, and we have none to keep an eye on what they are doing.” He carefully neglected to mention Thabe and the others posing as servants inside the Lloahairi Embassy at the moment, without the Arpekh’s knowledge.
“You have allowed the Arpekh to be browbeaten into this stance, out of a desire for the Lloahairi’s goodwill while you renegotiate all your precious trade treaties, but no good will come of it, nor is coming of it, as we see already. Those people outside were doing the Lloahairi no harm: they were on security duty to make sure nothing such as happened to Shalav happened again without our knowing about it. And you come complaining to me about the effect this assault has among the embassies? Who do you think did it, my lord? The Lloahairi are telling you loudly of their contempt for you, even while they extort new settlements from you ten times better than any present circumstances deserve, even while they wait to see whether they can extort yet better ones from you over this ugly little matter, which I have no doubt they engineered themselves. Oh yes, my lord,” Reswen said, seeing the unnerved look replace the look of anger in Mraal’s face, “I know about the negotiations, and how they have been proceeding. The chief of the H’satei would be rather a poor mrem about his work if he didn’t; knowing such things as make this city safe are my responsibility. So don’t come laying the blame for these poor mrems’ beatings at my door, master Mraal, or theirs either. You and your spineless brethren are at fault, and you are welcome to tell those poor mrems’ families as much, not that you will. And if you want my resignation,” Reswen said, getting into the heat of things and actively enjoying the storm and confusion of rage and unease and other emotions chasing themselves over Mraal’s face, “you may have it on the spot, for I’m tired of trying to keep this city out of the worst danger it’s been in in a century, while lapcats and dilettantes and sit-by-the-fire milk-lappers tell me how to do my job and then prevent my doing it!”
Mraal stared at Reswen, speechless, for several breaths, and then turned and went out in a furious rush, slamming Reswen’s door behind him. “Well,” Reswen said, “that’s that, Krruth; I’m either in a great deal of trouble, not that that’s unusual, or else I’m not Chief of H’satei any more. Either way, you had better tell me your news in a hurry. I can see it’s no better than Mraal’s.”
“Thabe,” Krruth said. “We found her down in the ricketies, with her paws cut off and her tongue torn out.”
Reswen had to sit right down on his desk at that. Little gingery Thabe with her merry ways? Sweet-voiced Thabe of the wicked dirty jokes, and the wit that could leave a whole room rolling and gasping, helpless with laughter? “Ah, no,” he said. “Oh, Krruth, that’s cruel.”
Knuth nodded, expressionless. He had trained Thabe himself, had worked with her often. “I would imagine they found her ‘meddling,’ ” he said. “Careful creature that she is, even in that plight she apparently took herself straight off to the ricketies after they dumped her, to try to make it look unrelated. We traced her blood trail, but she had purposely defaced it from the spot where they dumped her.
“How is she? Where is she?”
“She lives,” Krruth said, “and she’s hanging on. More than that the physician can’t say. She’s down in the infirmary.”
“I’ll go there,” Reswen said, and swung down off the desk; but as he did, Krruth put a paw to his forearm and stopped him. “What, then?”
“She’s resting at the moment. They’ve got her full of snoreweed, and if she should wake up enough to notice you, she’d be in great distress that she couldn’t report. Let her be, Reswen. I think you have other concerns.”
“I have indeed. Sit down, Krruth,” he said. “This may take a while.” And for the next hour or so he filled Krruth in on the things that Laas had told him, and that he had discovered, over the past day or so. Krruth nodded and listened and committed it all to memory, looking mor
e and more disturbed as the account continued. When it was done, Krruth sighed—a pained sound; he preferred his world orderly, but it never obliged him. “So,” he said, “what are you going to do, sir?”
“Get back our stone and water, somehow,” Reswen said, “before the rite involved has a chance to take place. This is complicated by the fact that we know nothing about where it now is, though Hiriv was given it. I know it was taken to Haven originally, but the odds that it’s still there now strike me as very low. Nevertheless, I want all our people to look for it. If they find it, it’s to vanish. They are not to wait, not to try to make other arrangements. They are to risk discovery if necessary. Nothing is as important as getting that stone and water back.”
“Very well, sir.”
“What’s the status of our other people in the embassy?”
“Lying very low.”
“Keep them so. But one way or another I want someone in there tonight who can snoop around a bit; there’s that party, you remember. It’s impossible to keep proper security during a party, and I mean to take advantage of that. Meanwhile, what have you found out about the source of the Big Spender’s money? Our friend Choikea, I mean.”
“Several fat letters of credit,” Krruth said, smiling slightly, “from one of the merchant banking houses in Cithiv.”
Reswen pounded his desk in angry delight. “Arrest the mrem,” he said, and then immediately added, “No, forget that. Leave him loose. Loose, he can run about his business. He’ll think he hasn’t been detected, and he may lead us to someone else we want. I want proof he’s deeply into this. Have him watched, Krruth; I don’t want him to so much as go to dirt without our knowing when he did it and what he did. And meanwhile, I’ve got to do something about that party.”
Krruth got an alarmed expression on his face. “Sir,” he said, “I know that look. You can’t possibly go yourself. You’re well out of favor with them. Nor even in disguise, sir, begging your pardon. I trained you, but someone else who was trained could see through your best without too much trouble if they knew to expect you. And they would, for certain.”
“You are a pain in the tail, Krruth, and I’m minded to fire you.”
Krruth laughed softly. “Do it quickly,” he said. “But even if worse comes to worst, I guess there must be work out there somewhere for two old toms like us. Private work, maybe, skulking around watching rich mrem’s mistresses in the middle of the night. Or plainclothes, maybe, with one of the private companies. The pay’s not what it used to be, but—”
Reswen laughed too. “Get out of here,” he said. Krruth was just turning to go when someone knocked at the door. “In,” Reswen said, certain it was news of his firing. A constabulary runner came in, handed Reswen a note, and waited.
Reswen opened the note and read it. When he looked up at Krruth again, most of his teeth were showing in an expression very little like a smile. “From Thailh,” he said. “They searched our friend’s house last night while he was at the Games with the Lloahairi. Thailh says, ‘Choikea’s house has had its drapes replaced lately. Old drapes found. Some of the cord is missing.’ ”
Krruth grinned, and began to purr; but it was the purr one hears when a hunter sees prey.
“Now then,” Reswen said. “Bless our good old Thailh, and there’s his case solved. There’s only one problem. Motive.”
“Easy. A hired agent. Hired by the Eastern cities.”
“Yes, but why, Krruth? To have a few paupers and whores killed, and then an ambassador? Certainly the other killings make a good cover for the last one. Or would, if we hadn’t discovered as much about this situation as we have. But why the Easterners?”
Krruth thought for a moment. “To ruin the city’s relations with the Lloahairi?”
“I think it’s a good guess,” Reswen said. “But we can’t go on guesswork at this point. We’re going to need a confession, and we can’t get that for a bit yet, not till our friend Choikea has had a little time to show us some more of his contacts. And anyway, why would the Easterners care about our relations with the Lloahairi one way or the other? And what in the eight hells is this Eastern wizard doing among the Lloahairi?”
They looked at each other for a few moments. Finally Reswen shook his head. “We need to have someone at that party tonight,” he said. “Several someones. That place has got to be thoroughly searched and listened to. Find me a way, Krruth.”
Krruth nodded slowly. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Do it.” ,
Krruth sketched a small salute and headed out.
Another runner knocked, then, and came to hand a folded bit of paper to Reswen. “This just came by a runner from one of the private firms, sir.”
It was a scrap of the cheapest paper there was, the kind of stuff that the public runners companies provided for their customers.
Reswen unfolded it and read, Suspect some attention is being paid to me after yesterday—some questions were asked—so am trying to be circumspect. The objects you were asking about seem not to be at home, but no one is complaining of their being—missing, so assume they are hidden away somewhere safe until needed. Reswen nodded to himself. That helped a little, if it was true; the Haven staff would start searching immediately. As regards the matter we discussed of mrem being requested not to do certain things in return for payment, a great deal of money has apparently changed hands over the past couple of days to this purpose. Wonder whether the demonstration we saw last night could be performed so as not to take effect immediately? On this sentence the firm clear handwriting broke down somewhat, as if the writer were upset or angry. Reswen swallowed, well understanding why she would be. Pay the grain merchants not to bother raising enough crops to have a surplus, then work the spell now, but not for immediate effect; work it in such a way that next year, when the responsible parties would be well out of reach, the crops would fail. All the crops. No grain anywhere, no surplus stored up, famine, a whole city gone to ruin as the food beasts die, too—more than one city, perhaps—
He growled deep in his throat and returned his attention to the note. On other matters, our group has been invited to gathering you were concerned about. Will look into matters for you. There was no signature.
Reswen’s fur stood up all over him. No, oh no! He sat down hurriedly at his desk, scribbled a note that said simply, Do not. Under any circumstances, do not. Have to see you. Name your time and place. R. “Take this to the lady Laas at Haven,” he said. “Wait for an answer. If she’s not there, find out where she’s gone, and see that she gets it. No one else is to see the message, you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said the runner, and went off in a rush, probably to let the other runners know on the sly that Old Ginger was in a right lather about this Eastern lady, just as everymrem else was who saw her. There would probably be snickering as his mrem let one another know that Reswen wasn’t as invulnerable and take-it-or-Ieave-it about the shes as he liked to let on.
Reswen smiled a bit, a wry look; better that mild confusion than that they should have any hint whatever of what was really on his mind. Then he sat back in his chair to consider the Lloahairi business in detail, while waiting to see if he was going to be fired.
But he was not fired, and the day dragged by without any word from Laas. The runner had not found her at Haven. No one knew where she was, or perhaps they knew and would not tell. And there was nothing else Reswen could do about the matter but wait, and be afraid that Laas would not do the same....
SHE WAS not prepared to do any such thing.
Laas spent the day walking through Niau. She had taken some care to dress herself as she had seen some of the quietly well-to-do she-mrem dress in the city: kilt and cezhe in subdued colors, the long loose end of the cezhe drawn over head and ears; ostensibly for protection from the sun. That her face was hidden suited her well. She had a knife tucked through her underbelt, a slender wicked bla
cked-steel one that she had picked up at the same place where she had bought Reswen’s present, the knife of rose and gold. Indeed she had tried to find another like his, but the cutler had shaken her head. “We see those only rarely,” she said; “it’s not steel, it’s some other metal that takes that hard edge, and can take color like that. It comes from one craftsmrem up north, and he won’t tell the secret, and he sends, maybe, four a year. You were lucky to find it at all last time, lady. We rarely manage to keep one in stock for more than an eightday. Did your friend like it?”
Laas had smiled and nodded, and taken the little knife, long and straight like a fang; had paid in silver and gold, and thanked the cutler, and gone away. The knife’s cool, sharp presence against her middle comforted her. Not that her talent left her feeling undefended, but it was hard to kill with it, at least swiftly. Not that she had any desire to, of course....
She walked. She walked the marketplace, listening to the brawling noise of the place, the cries and the bustle of mrem buying and selling, intimidating one another in the friendliest fashion, trying to get the better of bargains, as if life depended on it. She walked the Whites, among the high houses and the green trees, where song floated down from the small wind creatures in the branches, sweet, undecipherable, unconcerned with her or anything else, and (as far as she could tell) completely ignored by the passersby, for all its sweetness. That astonished her, but she let it pass, as she was letting everything pass, this morning, letting it all pass over her to be felt. She was the stone at the bottom of the river, silent, seeming cold and still; it seems not to think or act, but in time it knows the water better than anything else.
She walked away from the Whites, into the middleclass quarters, listening to the calmer business and bustle of home life—swill pails being emptied in the street, stoops being energetically brushed clean by small kits wielding oversized bundles of twig, small herd-beasts bleating from tiny backyards as they were milked. She walked down narrow, crazily twisted streets where laundry was hung in elegant swags from the windows of one building to the windows of another across the road, and the housemrem leaned their elbows on the windowsills and gossiped sex and love and frustration through the baking afternoon, across the little gap of air. Strolling sellers went by hawking water to drink, or lumps of soap or wax, or crying pots to sell or to mend; little mrem hardly up to her haunch went running in shrilling, delighted crowds down the streets, playing games with rules that might seem strange, but were rigidly enforced for all that. Old gap-toothed mrem sat on stoops and watched her go by, and made lewd suggestions and praised her looks with affection well flavored of the gutter; others, older still, watched her go by but said nothing, only leaned their backs against cool shady walls or little flights of steps leading up toward ramshackle houses, and their eyes moved and glittered, but nothing else. Laas made no sign, made no answer, only walked.
Exiled: Keeper of the City Page 27